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krirebr · 6 months ago

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More Than This 6

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, the threat of Linda, explicit language, panic & anxiety, my own rampant abuse of italics, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well. Here we go. Things are coming to a head now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You sat on the closed toilet seat in Ransom’s ensuite, your knees pulled up to your chest, as you watched the seconds on the timer tick by, Linda’s gift bag sitting right beside the under-the-sink cabinet you’d pulled it out of. This time would be different, you told yourself. It wouldn’t be the same result as the last three tests you took. It couldn’t. It couldn’t.

Your phone buzzed and you turned the timer off as you closed your eyes tight. Please please please, you chanted to yourself. After forcing yourself to breathe, you opened your eyes and picked up the test off the counter. Pregnant said the easy-read display. Just like the others. Shit.

This was what you wanted. You knew that. But– But you were stupid. You were so fucking stupid. You were so focused on getting pregnant that you’d forced yourself to forget about what would come when you actually were – a baby. You and Ransom were going to have a baby. You were fully trapped now. Completely fucked. This had cemented the rest of your life, no way out.

And the same for this poor baby you carried inside of you. A childhood just like yours. The same future too. You cradled your stomach even knowing there was barely anything there yet.

You wandered into the hall. You wondered where you would even put a baby as you looked across at the home gym you'd never seen Ransom use. His study. The storage rooms. You tried to imagine a little kid running around in this house. You couldn’t. You couldn’t picture a single moment of your future beyond this day. It terrified you.

The rest of the day passed in a haze before Ransom came home at his usual time. You froze at the sight of him, just staring as he bent down to pat Lola and tell her hello as she yipped excitedly at him. He turned to you and his brow furrowed. Oh god. Could he tell? Could he see it on you? You opened your mouth to tell him. You had to tell him. But no words came out. After gaping at him for who knows how long, while his brow just got more and more furrowed, you asked “Are you hungry?” and moved into the kitchen without waiting for a response. You had no idea how he’d react.

Would he be happy you’d finally fulfilled your purpose? Angry because he’d never wanted a kid to begin with? Or maybe he did want a kid, he just didn’t want one with you? Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you didn’t even factor into this equation. Maybe the kid would be good enough on it’s own. That might be the best outcome you could hope for. That thought terrified you just as much as the others.

You pulled two of the premade meals out of the fridge. You hadn’t tried to make dinner again since your disastrous first attempt. You thought of your kid. Eating the housekeeper’s meals, being taken care of by a nanny, driven around by a chauffeur, while you just faded away into the background.

Ransom calling your name brought you back to the present. He was just on the other side of the kitchen island from you now. “Are you okay?” he asked, and you couldn’t tell if it was concern or annoyance in his tone.

Tell him tell him tell him. You had to. You knew you had to. But. You couldn’t right now. It wasn’t the right time. You’d come up with a plan. The right way to do it. That’s what you needed. You forced a benign smile. “I’m fine,” you said.

Something passed over his features. Frustration, maybe. But what did he have to be frustrated by? You were doing what he wanted. Making yourself as small as possible, doing everything you could not to intrude on his life.

He just stared at you as you plated a meal for him and put it in the microwave. He looked at you as if there was something to decode. The more he stared, the more afraid you became that he’d be able to ferret out your secret. Not yet. Please not yet. It wasn’t the right time. “Actually,” you said, as you took his dinner out of the microwave and replaced it with your own, “I’m not feeling great. I think I’m just going to take this upstairs with me and maybe read until I fall asleep. Don’t bother waking me if I’m sleeping when you come up. Think I just need to sleep off whatever this is.” You were babbling. You knew it. You needed to get out of this room.

“Are you ok?” He asked. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no,” You said, taking your plate out as soon as the microwave beeped, not bothering to check if it was truly done. “I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix, I’m sure. Goodnight.” Then you fled upstairs, not looking back.

You spent the next day trying to pretend like everything was normal. You read one of Harlan’s books, you took Lola for a long walk, you hid from Carol. Everything was fine.

Late in the afternoon, you got a text from Ransom.

How are you feeling?

You stared at it, confused. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. You hadn’t told him. What was– Oh! Last night you’d told him you were sick. Right.

I’m feeling much better. Thank you.

A few minutes later your phone dinged again.

Ok. My parents want to take us to dinner. I’ll be home around 6 and we’ll go right to the restaurant.

You looked at the time. That was less than two hours from now. Less than two hours to get ready for Linda. That– that was not enough time. You tried to push down the panic building in your chest. This was fine. You’d just start getting ready now. It was fine.

You went into Ransom’s bathroom and started doing your makeup. It was fine. Your hand only shook a little.

When that was done, you went into the closet. All you had to do was pick an outfit. You could do that.

But as you rifled through the closet, the panic you’d tried so hard to shove deep down came back. Not only that, it grew. You didn’t know how you were supposed to pick something to wear when you didn’t know what Linda wanted. But if you didn’t get it right, she would look at you and she would say something. And she would hate you even more. But every time you thought you might have found something that would please her, you became overcome with worry over what Richard might think – if it showed too much chest, or too much leg, or too much neck or maybe it highlighted your ass and he would take it as an invitation. It was too much. You sank down to the floor, surrounded by all the clothes you’d pulled off hangers. You were paralyzed. There was no option that wouldn’t get you in trouble, wouldn’t cause problems.

You didn’t even realize Ransom was home until he was in the closet too, standing over you, with an impatient scowl on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why aren’t you ready? We have to go! Linda’s gonna lose her shit if we’re late for the reservation. Get up and get fucking dressed already.”

You looked up at him, at the way he was glaring at you, and suddenly you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. None of it. Not a single thing.

“Then tell me what to wear!” you yelled, and Ransom took a step back, surprised. “Because none of this is going to be good enough! Not for your mom, who hates me. Or your dad who looks at me, and– and– And you! I have no fucking idea what you want. I can’t figure it out! But I’m here. I have to be here. And I have to do what you want, but I don’t know what that is because you won’t tell me! I only know what you don’t want. You don’t want me to cook and you don’t want to fuck me and you don’t want me to work! And I really don’t understand that one because you told me I could but then you sicced your mother on me–”

“Wait, what?” Ransome tried to interrupt. “What did–”

You barely even noticed he’d said anything, too much on a roll now to even think about stopping. “And you don’t want me to leave! You keep me locked up here, stranded and I think I’m starting to lose my mind. I don’t– I don’t have anything to do or anyone to talk to! Steve is too busy for me and that’s probably good because your mom is sure we’re fucking, so I probably shouldn’t talk to him anymore anyway. But I miss him. He’s the only one who cares about me. I’m so alone. And even Lola loves you now. I don’t have anyone or anything! And I know, I know I’m supposed to make you happy. I know that’s what I’m for now, but I don’t know how! You don’t want me. You don’t want me here but you won’t let me leave. And now I’m pregnant! And I’m stuck. This is just my life now, the way it’ll always be and I–”

A hand on your wrist shocked you back into the room, into the present, where Ransom was crouching down in front of you, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?” he breathed.

You froze. Oh god, had you said that? You didn’t really remember. You barely remembered anything you’d just said. It’d all come tumbling out of you without much conscious thought. But as he stared at you, you knew that you must have. You locked eyes with him for what might have been just a moment or an entire age. And then suddenly, this, fucking everything, was too much for you and you bolted.

Up and out of the closet, out of the bedroom, and into the hall. You looked around wildly. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You heard Ransom start to move, so you ducked through the nearest doorway, into his gym, slamming the door and locking it behind you. You paced around the room, wringing your hands. What the fuck had you done? Why had you said all that? You were just so tired. You’d been so tired since that day in Joseph’s office. You just couldn’t muster the energy to keep everything inside anymore.

A knock came at the door and you froze. Ransom called your name gently, but you couldn’t say anything. He called it again, a little louder, but you still kept quiet. The doorknob rattled as he tried to get in. You backed up, still feeling the urge to run but there was nowhere to go. Your back hit the far wall and you slid down it.

“I just–” he started through the door, “you don’t have to talk to me. I just– I just need to know that you’re ok.” It was his tone that surprised you more than his words. He sounded– you weren’t sure how he sounded, honestly. Wrecked, maybe, if that wasn’t so fucking ridiculous. “Can you at least tell me you aren’t having a panic attack? I’m–” You swore you could hear him grinding his teeth. “I’m worried.”

You gaped at the door for a moment, then forced out, “I’m not having a panic attack,” just loud enough to travel through the wood.

“You’re sure? Your breathing’s normal?”

“Yeah,” you said, hunched over by the wall now.

You heard him let out a deep breath. “Ok, good, that’s good. Uh, will you please come out? I’d really like to talk to you.”

You were shaking your head before he finished speaking, your stomach clenching in fear. You couldn’t face him. Not yet. Not ever, a voice inside you whispered. That wouldn’t be possible, you knew. But you’d hold off as long as you possibly could. “No,” you finally said out loud, your voice unsteady.

There was just silence at first. It stretched on. Then, finally, you heard him move away from the door and down the stairs. You took a slow, deep breath. Then another and another. You stood up and started moving again. Around and around the room. You were so relieved he was gone but you were terrified of where he might be going, what he might be doing. How he might feel. How angry was he? And was he just upset about the outburst or was he mad about the baby? He’d never been an enthusiastic participant in the making of it, just doing what he had to. This baby wasn’t his choice, it’d been pushed on him, just like you were pushed on him. Of course he resented you. And he’d resent your child, your family. A whole life he never wanted.

You cradled your stomach as you crumpled down to the floor. This poor baby. Parents who barely spoke, a mother who was only ever sad. Tears slid down your cheeks. History just kept repeating. Over and over again. There’d never been anything you could do to stop it.

Your pathetic spiral was interrupted by a scratching at the door. Then a huff and then whimpers. Lola. You started to get up, move towards the door, but then you stopped. Opening that door felt insurmountable. Like it would destroy any small modicum of safety you currently felt. Like everything outside, everything you were scared of would come crashing in. You couldn’t do it. Even for Lola, you couldn’t do it.

You heard footsteps on the stairs again and you pushed yourself into the wall. You heard him stop in front of the door and then say, so softly you could barely hear it, “Hey, Lola, she just needs some time alone right now. It’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go downstairs.” Then there was more movement – was he picking her up? – and footsteps on the stairs again.

You couldn’t explain why that made you so angry, but– He hated dogs! He’d told you! And now he was comforting Lola? Gently picking her up? Taking her from you? He didn’t make any sense. He’d constantly say one thing then do the opposite. The only consistent thing about him seemed to be that he didn’t want you, didn’t like you, didn’t need you here. Maybe once the baby was born, he’d send you both away. Maybe that’d be a good thing. Maybe that was the best you could hope for.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before there was a soft knock on the door. Ransom’s voice came through. “Can you let Lola in? She’s freaking out. You can stay in there, I just– She needs you.”

You moved towards the door. “I– She can come in, but I don’t want to talk,” you said.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “you’ve made that clear.”

Then there was more shuffling before you heard him walk away. You just stood there until there was a desperate little scratch at the bottom of the door. You unlocked and opened it quickly, just enough to let her in, then closed and locked it behind her. She immediately jumped on you, torn between her excitement at seeing you and her annoyance that she’d been shut out to begin with.

You picked her up. “I’m so sorry baby,” you whispered. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You didn’t know if that was true. You held her close as you went back to pacing. What were you doing? You were being childish, probably. Hiding from your problems. It wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if you weren’t so fucking alone. You got out your phone and without thinking texted Steve

I really hate that you’re so far away.

You stared at it for a few moments but the little checkmark that showed he’d read it never appeared. That was fine. Working still probably. Or at an important dinner or event. He had his own life to lead. You couldn’t expect him to always have time for you.

Another knock on the door. You looked up with a sharp “What?” Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“Are you planning on coming to bed tonight?” he asked through the door.

“No,” you said, voice much more firm than you felt.

“What?! You’re just gonna sleep on the floor between my weights?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“Oh my god,” he grumbled. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

“I’m fine, Ransom,” you growled.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for you to still hear him, before he stomped down the stairs.

You rolled your eyes and checked your phone. Still no response from Steve. It was fine it was fine.

He came back up, his gait significantly slower and uneven, and dropped something in front of the door, which hit the floor with a muted ‘oomph.’ Then he was stomping down the stairs again. You froze, staring at the door, your curiosity warring with your fear. What the fuck was he doing?

He came back up, adding something to his pile with a faint ‘tink.’ “You can’t fucking sleep on the floor,” he growled, then thundered into his room across the hall and slammed the door.

You counted to thirty before you were brave enough to open the door. Stacked just to the side in the hallway was a collection of cushions and blankets, along with your pillow and Lola’s favorite blanket. Carefully placed on top of all that was one of Carol’s dinners with utensils and a bottle of water. You just blinked at it all for a moment, before lugging everything into the room.

You sat down to eat first. You’d been so stressed and anxious you hadn’t even realized you skipped dinne– Oh fucking shit. Dinner. With Ransom’s parents. Well, if Linda hadn’t hated you already, she certainly did now. You wondered what he’d told her. That you were crazy. Ridiculous. A child. Had he told her you were pregnant? If you’d been able to tell her yourself, under better circumstances, would it make her like you more?

You put the plate aside. You weren’t very hungry.

Next was making space for you to sleep. It took you a while. Neither the stationary bike nor the treadmill would budge. You didn’t even try the rowing machine. So it was just moving his weights out of the way, which you did one by one with both hands, trying to shoo Lola out of the way when she insisted on being underfoot. When you were done, you sat down against the wall for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before arranging all the cushions and blankets into something you’d be able to sleep on.

You looked around. He never fucking used this gym. You were sure it’d be covered in dust if Carol didn’t clean it every week. He had all these rooms you’d never seen him enter, let alone use, while you had absolutely nothing. Well. Fuck that. Fuck him.

You pulled out your phone and hurriedly typed out an email to the manager of your storage unit. Your bedroom furniture was just languishing in LA, while all these rooms went unused. Well, you were done with that. You’d done your job. Your goals were accomplished. You were pregnant. There was no reason to share a room with him anymore. He’d be relieved too, you were sure of it.

As you unfolded all the blankets, you also found your comfiest pair of pajamas. You changed into them, knowing it was just a coincidence, that they must have been the first pair he’d found in your drawer, but you still appreciated it. As odd as it felt to appreciate anything from him, especially now.

You sank down onto the cushions. It was early still, but you were exhausted. You hoped that you might sleep, even though you were terrified of what the next day might bring.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #arranged marriage au #more than this #kris wrote something

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maybe-moonchild · 5 months ago

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2004 - 2009

WC: 3.3k

There are a few things that you need to remember.

No because you try to erase them from your memory but because some memories of the past are just as crucial as the future. The little moments that seem so insignificant at the time, are appreciated in the future, and are soul crushing when nothing is the same anymore.

So maybe you try to forget them because thinking about them makes it hard to breathe for a long moment.

But you need to remember them.

They are points in time you should never, ever forget.

°｡⋆˚🕷˚ 🏙 ｡⋆˚☂︎ ˚⋆˚

6/26/2004:

Peter Parker was a Dick.

At least, you thought he was. It was a word you’d heard your dad mutter under his breath during rush hour when someone cut him off. You also knew you weren’t allowed to say it because, when you asked your mom what it meant, she shot your dad a dirty look and told you not to say it.

But if it meant asshole, then yes. Peter Parker was a dick.

You could feel his eyes on the back of your head as you knelt on the pavement. Your new house in Queens was small, brick and without any of your old friends living nearby. You hated Queens. You hated New York. At that moment, you were pretty sure you hated your parents for moving you there.

Chalk covered your fingers, staining them yellow and orange as you tried to fix the sun you’d drawn before lunch. When you’d returned from inside where your mom had forced you to stop drawing on the sidewalk so you could eat half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and six carrots, it had two lines cutting through it. It became clear the boy across the street had skated right over it.

He’d been relatively quiet the past week since you’d moved in. Always riding his skateboard in the street, trying to teach himself little tricks and stumbling before he caught himself from hitting the gravel.

You knew he knew that you were mad because he pretended not to notice the glare you gave him from your side of the street.

Good. He should feel shameful. You’d been working on this all morning since it was the first day all week that lacked overcast skies or sprinkles of rain.

You kept your back to him as you worked, grinding the yellow chalk into the cement harder than necessary to erase the mark he’d made. You were too young to know that chalk drawings weren't all that important in the grand scheme of the universe. To a nine-year-old who was angry at the world for having to move to Queens, leaving your friends and old house behind, it felt like the only thing you could control.

Like it was the only thing you had left.

The sound of a body smacking onto the pavement and the clattering of the skateboard snapped you out of your fuming. Peter pushed himself up onto his hands with a grimace; knees, elbows and palms skinned and embedded with little pebbles.

“Are you okay?” you called out as you stood, rushing over to him where he sat in the middle of the street. Embarrassed from the fall and ruining your chalk, he averted his eyes and winced. It didn’t deter you as you got to your knees on the pavement beside him.

Peter hadn’t meant to ride over your art. Really.! Uncle Ben and Aunt May had only given him the skateboard at the beginning of summer vacation so he was still learning how to ride it. He had been trying to work up the nerve to say hi all week since you moved in. All morning he had tried to do the same thing. So when you went inside, Peter had the idea that maybe he could say something about drawing or your chalk art but… he just hadn’t been able to stop in time.

You frowned and turned away in the hope of hiding his cut-up knees from your view. You quickly leaned forward to grab his arm and he stiffened at the touch, brown eyes wide as he peeked up at you. You were waiting for him to answer.

Sniffling, he managed to nod. The last thing he needed to do was look like a crybaby.

“You’ll need band-aids.” You placed your hands on his legs so you could inspect the cut-up skin exposed by his khaki shorts. The sting was practically nonexistent now when all he could think about was the way your nose scrunched up in thought. “And these need to be cleaned first. My mom is a nurse. We have a first aid kit inside, come on.”

Gone were your concerns about your chalk drawings, replaced with a newfound concern for your neighbor.

Peter let you help him up even if he didn’t actually need it. A part of him wanted to tell you that he was fine. That he’d fallen off his skateboard more times than he could count. He just couldn’t seem to get the words out. Actually, he couldn’t seem to get any words out or shake the dreamy expression off his face.

You were careful as you opted to grab his forearm rather than his hands to not touch the scrapes on his palms. He almost tripped a few times as you dragged him towards your house. There were still a few packed boxes lining the walls from the move but it seemed like your parents were making good progress on moving in.

“I’m really good at putting bandaids on. On myself and other people. I fall a lot. Especially since we moved,” you continued just to fill the quiet to distract him in case he wanted to burst into tears. Sometimes you cried when you fell down and you really didn’t want him to cry.

“I’m not used to the new house yet so I keep tripping or knocking my elbows into the corners of the walls. The bandaid on my elbow is from when I fell down the stairs the other day because I thought there were only twelve steps like in our old house. This one actually has fourteen so I miscounted.”

You patted the counter to signal that he could sit on the edge and he complied, still silent and watching you with awe. The first aid kit was heavy in your hands which made you practically dump it beside him.

The whole situation would be awkward if you let it. The one-sided conversation you were able to hold while he nervously picked at some of the dead skin soothed some of his anxiety. Pink flooded his cheeks when you noticed what he was doing and gently swatted his hands away. They fell to his lap before you stood in front of him.

“Here,” you murmured, taking his hand towards your face so you could see the damage better. You didn’t bother looking away as you flipped on the faucet to warm up the water..

Peter Parker might only be nine years old but at this very moment, he was sure that he was in love. Each touch of your fingertips against his skin made his stomach do summersaults like when he and Harry went to Coney Island two weeks ago. The proximity of your face to his made his cheeks so hot that he was sure you could feel the warmth..

But when you finally looked up at him from under your lashes, Peter didn’t think he was in love.

He knew he was.

It took him a long minute to realize that you had just told him your name. It had to be the prettiest thing he’d ever heard in his life. He mulled the combination of letters over in his brain and desperately wanted to say them outloud over and over again.

“Peter. Peter Parker.” His voice was hoarse but he managed to get the words out.

You smiled.

After a long moment, he smiled back.

From that moment, the two of you couldn’t seem to spend a moment apart.

8/27/2006:

“She did not say that,” Peter snorted from his spot on his bedroom floor. The ugly gray skies and splatter of rain against the glass were enough to keep the two of you indoors for the afternoon. Neither of you were happy about that. Not when summer was going to come to an end in days. Then, you would both start sixth grade.

“Yuh huh.” you shot back defensively. You were draped across his twin-sized bed, hands tucked behind your head and tracing the glow in the dark stars that were peeling off the ceiling. The top of his head was just visible over the edge of the comforter, looking like he had either just woken up or stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Each click of the Rubix cube in his hands filled the lulls of silence.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Swear to god.”

Now it's his turn to make a face, which he knew you saw before you leaned over the bed, just to make sure he could see the pout you were wearing.

“There is no way that Mary Jane, of all people, told you that having your first kiss before middle school is a requirement,” he sighed. Although, it did kinda sound like the exact kind of dramatics she tended to have. Peter wasn’t paying enough attention to you or the topic at hand. This was serious. Not when you were stressing out because what if she had been telling the truth and you were going to show up to middle school and be the laughing stock of all the eighth graders.

“She did.” Sick of fighting for his attention, you plucked the Rubix cube from his hands and yanked it out of his reach when he tried to snatch it back. All you had to do was sit up on your knees and hold the cube above your head to keep it from him.

When you whined his name again, he decided to give in. Climbing up beside you on the bed wasn’t weird. Hanging out in his room or your room had never been weird because you’d been doing it ever since you moved in across the street two years ago.

“Jeez, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender before flopping onto his back beside you. His brown doe eyes were wider than usual when he leaned over; nothing but his face visible in your view. “Okay, fine. So… MJ said that most people had their first kisses by middle school. So what?”

“So what?” You repeated with a comical drop of your jaw. He just shrugged at the dramatics.

“So, we're gonna be the only two sixth graders that haven’t kissed anyone-”

“Oh come on, we are not going to be the only sixth graders that haven’t kissed anyone-”

“How do you know we won’t?”

“Oh, so Ned kissed someone this summer?”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated because… there was a very slim chance that Ned Leeds, bless his heart, had fulfilled his lifelong dream of kissing Katie Douglas. You hung your head in defeat before falling over dramatically on the bed.

“See.” He pushed up on his elbows so he could be the one to lean over you with a ‘told you so’ look. “We won’t be the only ones.”

You didn’t really seem to believe him by the way you scrunched up your nose and looked up at the ceiling. He gave your hair a playful tug and snorted. At least the little smile on his face was enough to calm some of your worries.

Since when did you care about kissing someone? Since when did you care about what Mary Jane said like she didn’t make things up all the time? It seemed silly. The idea that everyone entering middle school was supposed to have kissed someone before the start of the semester. You barely knew what kissing was. Sure, you’d seen it in movies and you’d seen your parents do it. Aside from those glimpses, you really didn’t know what the big deal was anyway.

Maybe now was when you were supposed to start thinking about it like it was a big deal…

“Fine,” you sighed and sat up beside him. The Rubix cube bounced between your hands, “As long as we don’t show up the first day and turn into social pariahs.”

Slowly, he sat up too, studying you carefully as you both settled beside each other. Eventually, your hands stilled, the unsolved Rubix cube finding a spot on the pillows. Peter could see the way you worried about the whole idea in the back of your mind but he didn’t seem to get it either.

Who cared what everyone else thought? Why did anyone else even need to know whether you had kissed anyone anyway? Unlike you, he did understand the idea of kissing someone- at least as much as an eleven-year-old could understand the idea. Even though he had never done it, sometimes he wondered what it would be like to kiss you.

You scratched at a scab on your knee that you’d gotten last week falling off Peter’s skateboard. He was still determined to teach you even when it always ended in skinned extremities. Last summer it had ended in a broken collar bone which he still felt guilty about.

“I just…” you started before letting out a quiet exhale. When you worked up the courage to speak again, your voice was much quieter. “I don’t want to be the only person in the entire grade who’s never done it.”

More like you didn’t want to be the only person left out of something.

His eyes studied your face, bottom lip rolling between his teeth. He took in your slumped shoulders and furrowed brows with a frown of his own. He didn’t like seeing you upset. It didn’t make him feel good.

Giving up on the topic, you tried to gather some optimism even if the rain just made everything feel gloomy. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away and it was clear that the August afternoon storm was going to roll into the evening.

“It’s fine. I’m sure that no one is going to even bring it up-”

You’d barely turned your head in his direction before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It was quick, just a peck before he was already pulling away and sitting back. Your eyes were wide in shock.

He just stared at you tentatively. Now, he thought he’d screwed up. That he should’ve said something first- at least asked because you were staring at him and saying nothing and- oh my god! What if you were mad at him now?

It was only when a bashful smile appeared on your face that he felt like he could actually breathe again.

Both of you were blushing, still trying to make sense of what the big deal was with kissing. All you knew was that it wasn’t that bad. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach was a funny reaction to the whole thing but, hey? What did you know?

“There,” he said slowly, his voice quiet and slow. “Now neither of us will be social pariahs.”

You were lucky to have him.

He was lucky to have you.

Neither of you actually spoke about it. .

4/14/2009:

It was an old root beer bottle that was the decider of fate.

Someone had ripped the label off the best they could but there were still pieces of the blue paper stuck to the glass. It felt scandalous, sitting in the hotel room with a handful of other students in Science Club who had snuck out of their respective rooms. The carpet was kind of gross and you couldn’t stop shifting in your spot to try and keep your legs from falling asleep.

Peters knee pressed against yours. The circle of students gathered for the game sat tightly together as everyone tried to keep quiet enough to not get busted. Ned was on the other side of him, only having joined the team for a very smart, but very popular, Katie Douglas, who sat on the other side of the circle next to the next most popular girl in Science Club, Gwen Stacy.

It was your turn, your cheeks pink from the quiet cheers of your name as you reached for the glass. Peter gave your arm a reassuring nudge and, while you didn’t acknowledge it, you did appreciate it. It wasn’t like there was anyone in this room you really wanted to kiss. You just didn’t want to be left out.

It wasn’t the drive to be popular and cool. It wasn’t even about being on the inside. You just didn’t want to be on the outside if it wasn’t by choice.

Peter had always been comfortable with a sense of invisibility. Being on the outside, right on the cusp of everyone where he was close enough to watch but far enough away that he didn't actually have to be included was his preference. You were always okay with that but you did tend to toe the line more in hopes of crossing between both worlds.

So when you spun the bottle and it landed next to you, all eyes were on you and your best friend of four years.

The two of you had already kissed once. In fact, it was the only kiss either of you had ever had. Your classmates erupted into giggles and hushed cheers, gossiping already beginning that would only spread at school.

You peaked up at Peter but he was already doing the same. Pink tinged his cheeks and ears (yours surely looked the same) and his eyebrows were stuck high on his forehead. But the look he was giving you wasn’t one of embarrassment, it was one to ask you a question.

‘You sure?’

Like he was waiting for confirmation. Maybe deep down he knew that you did want to because declining would be far more embarrassing than kissing him in front of your peers. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t done it before either.

So you shrugged, the corner of your mouth turning up.

Then he shrugged, returning your little smile with one of his own.

And then you both leaned forward and pressed your lips together.

This kiss was longer than the first, three whole seconds of a chaste kiss before pulling back to the sounds of giggling and whispers. Neither of you really seemed to care.

Neither of you ever talked about it again.

°｡⋆˚🕷˚ 🏙 ｡⋆˚☂︎ ˚⋆˚

Now you see.

There are things you do your fucking hardest to try and avoid thinking about. It isn’t like you just deny it out loud; rather you pretend that it doesn’t plague you the way it does as you lay in bed some nights.

It’s worse when it rains.

When you find yourself laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes you find yourself thinking that you can hear him knocking on the glass between the patter against the glass. Each rumble of thunder makes you want to reach for him even though he hasn’t shared a bed with you in years. Cracks of lightning feel like sharp aches in your chest when you wonder if he thinks about you.

Sometimes, if you close your eyes and REALLY focus, you can almost pretend that he’s lying next to you. That the sheets are warm from his body heat and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. That if you were to reach out a hand, you’d be able to touch his skin.

What a fucking joke when there’s nothing there.

#peter parker tasm #peter parker tasm x reader #the amazing spider man #marvel #Peter Parker #Andrew Garfield #TASM #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm peter x reader

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kaiyaki-sano · 2 years ago

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Lend Me Your Voice(band!Eren x fem!reader) pt.3

Basically, Eren is a douchey frontman of the rock band “Titans”. This will be a 4 part slightly angsty mini-series, with a shameless little OC self-insert as Eren’s sister Kai in part 2 and 3 bc I have no self-control when it comes to Levi~ I hope you enjoy it!!

MINORS DNI!!!!

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

DISCLAIMER: THIS PART BEGINS WITH HEAVY HEAVY ANGST WITH A LOT OF TW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TW: Eren is an asshole to reader, very minor character death for backstory purposes, swearing/dirty talk, yandere elements if you squint, and for this part specifically there is physical abuse/domestic violence, blood, choking, sex work, triggering language/actions, PTSD style flashback, basically we learn why Eren is the way he is

“It’s been a long time since Mommy left, I watched three Scooby-Doo movies and she isn’t home yet! She said she’d be home after two of them, where is she??”

A small, scared, newly turned 6 years old Eren thought as he watched the front door like a hawk. Today was his birthday, and his mother had promised she wouldn’t be gone the whole day for it. But six hours later, she was still gone.

He had no idea what was truly going on, all he knew was what his mother said.

The Bad Man had left with her again, the one who was awfully mean to him and his big sister Kai whenever he was around. He hated that man.

Not even the birthday cake his sister made him helped. He knew it would taste bad, all they had to eat was ramen noodles, so he didn’t want to know what she’d used to make the cake. But, so he didn’t make her sad, he blew out the candle when she sang to him and mustered a weak little smile.

“It’ll be okay, Rennie. Mom will be home soon, and if that jerk is with her, I’ll protect you.” Kai promised, ruffling his hair. But truth be told, she was just as scared as he was.

“I hate that guy!! He hit me when I spilled my juice the other day, and it wasn’t even my FAULT!!” He was upset, more upset in such complex ways that a child should never have to experience.

His sister was about to comfort him again when the dilapidated front door finally swung open, revealing their mother and the Bad Man.

Their mother looked distressed, more so than usual, and the asshole next to her looked more enraged than usual. There was something wrong, something bad was going to happen, it was in the air.

“You dumb fucking bitch, I told you, no less than $1200 was to be made before you could call it a night!! DIDN’T I?!” The Bad Man roared in his usual domineering and intimidating tone, slapping their mother hard in the face.

“I-I’m sorry, I just- I promised Eren I’d be home for his birthday! I made $800, I figured that would be enough, please- not in front of the kids, please honey!” Their mother pleaded with him, wiping the blood from her lip as she trembled.

Anxiety and panic tightened his chest, and he squeezed his sister’s hand in raw fear. He wanted to speak, to stand up for himself and his family, but he was frozen, as if his jaw had been wired shut and his limbs were cemented where he sat.

“That little pussy needs to learn how to be a man!! Can’t always be crying for his fuckin’ mommy, the little shit needs to learn! Fuck his birthday, fuck those kids!! I SAID 1200!!!!!” He continued to hit their mother, kicking the front door shut to avoid nosy neighbors intervening again.

All Eren and his sister could do was watch, they were no match for that man, and their mother made them promise to never get involved so they didn’t get hurt too.

But the second he saw his mother fall to the floor from the force of a punch to her jaw, followed by a kick to her ribs, he forgot all about his fear.

“STOP IT!!!! LEAVE MOMMY ALONE!!!!!!!” He screamed as loud as his little lungs would let him, running up to do something, only to be slapped away with full strength by the adult male.

He whimpered when he saw blood on his hand from the split in his cheek, the ring the man wore making direct contact. As any normal child would do, Eren began to cry. It hurt, he was scared, and he had no concept of this situation other than terror.

“You wanna get your ass beat, you little shit?! HUH?!?!” The man screamed in his face, grabbing the child up by the neck.

“NO!! Let him go, take it out on me, please!! Don’t hurt the kids, PLEASE!” Their mother begged, crawling and wincing as she reached her arm out.

The man scoffed with a villainous grin, dropping Eren to the ground, and instead grabbed their mother up by the throat.

“Fine, I think I’ll do that,” he focused his glare back to the terrified and bleeding little boy, something extra sinister in his voice when he spoke next, “he’s gonna learn today that his precious, useless ‘mommy’ won’t always be there to help him. Time to be a man, you little piss-ant.”

That was all the warning he gave, before proceeding to beat their mother to death before Eren and his sister’s very eyes.

When the police showed up and arrested him, paramedics taking their mother’s body away, Eren managed to grab the picture of him and his mom from the last year’s birthday before the police took him and his sister to the station.

Eren was snapped out of his usual flashback by Jean snapping his fingers in front of his face, and he blinked a few times before scowling in his usual facade of couldn’t-be-bothered.

“Fuck you want, Jean?” He snipped, jadeite eyes boring into the bassist’s now mildly fearful ones.

“We’re talking about the new album, thought our literal frontman would want to know the songs he’s gonna be singing.” Jean sassed, before softening just a little, lowering his voice before speaking next, “You okay, man?”

There it was again, that fucking sympathetic look, the one he hated the most. As if he were some helpless god damned woodland animal. He was Eren fucking Yeager, invincible and adored frontman of the most popular rock group in the world. The last thing he needed was sympathy, especially from the likes of that Kentucky Derby-looking bastard Jean.

Truth be told, deep down, Eren just didn’t know how to accept it. To him, all it did was show weakness if he opened up or talked about his issues. He didn’t need that shit. He wasn’t weak.

“Get out of my face and I’ll be just fine. Try a mint, too.”

His tone was devoid of feeling, just like his expression. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair and kicked his boots up onto the table, crossing his ankles as he lit up a cigarette.

“Fuck you, dude. God forbid someone tries to be a friend to you, right?” Jean rolled his eyes, taking his seat next to Connie.

As Levi prattled on about the tracklist, saying they needed at least thirteen, or something stupid like that, Eren zoned out again.

What was y/n up to right now? Were you thinking about him? Would you like the new album? Tch, you were probably thinking about Connie.

“Oi, Caillou,” he called for the man in question once Levi finished talking, blowing smoke from his nose, “still chasin’ after y/n? Or did she finally reject you?”

“Why do you care, asshole?” Connie bit right back, sick of this bullshit, “Wish it was you she was texting right now??”

“Like I give a shit about a groupie’s attention. I have a thousand sluts in my DM’s right now and you have one. You’ll never be me.”

Of course he gave a shit, a lot of shits actually. It drove him fucking insane that he wasn’t the one you were chasing after, and he’d be damned if he lost you to Connie bald-headed Springer.

“Thank god for that.” The drummer gave a dramatic sigh of relief, before flipping Eren off, “Y/n will be here later after the concert, hope that doesn’t get your panties in a fuckin bunch. And I swear to god, if you say anything to her, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Got it??”

The threat only amused the lead singer, and he smirked around the filter of his Marlboro Red.

“Oh yeah? Well, miracles happen every day, don’t they?” His voice was mocking, and he stubbed his smoke out on the table, “Enjoy the taste of my dick when you go down on her. And use three fingers, she loved that shit. Hope she doesn’t accidentally scream my name instead of yours, would be pretty damn funny though.”

With that final quip, he made his way to his room on the bus, slamming and locking the door behind him. He flopped onto the bed, reaching for the flask under the mattress and taking a swig, sighing at the burn of the whiskey in his throat.

Interrupting you and Connie?? Well, that sounded like a mighty fine plan to him.

Whether Eren knew it, or you knew it, you belonged to him. He had you first, and despite the show he put on during your hookup, he was gonna do whatever it took to get your attention back to him.

Watch out, y/n, Hurricane Yeager is heavy on your radar.

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suckmyskinnyballsmia · 9 months ago

Text

TW ⚠️ ed si sh relapse sa abuse cptsd

Rant under cut

(I’m seriously warning you I’m not censoring myself like I usually do, I’m barley censored here ok)

Billy Joel at the end?

I can’t take this anymore

Like I genuinely can’t do this.

It fucjing sucks and I wanna k!ll myself.

It’s like sensory overload from the past couple days/weeks idk… I am hungry, and I don’t wanna be. People make god awful noises when they eat and I wanna scream. I can hear them chewing I can hear them breathing, I can hear them tapping, I can hear them scratching, I can hear them. I wanna klll mysself. And the worst part is I am literally so hungry right now and this is new and it’s scary. Like I guess after being forced to eat 6 times a day for over a month I have hunger cues back now…

(I relapsed and haven’t been eating that much since I was kicked out because fuck that I was kicked out so why recover??? And now they are coming back, it’s confusing )

I just hate my life

I can’t take this pressure

I can’t do it anymore

I don’t wanna go to therapy, I don’t wanna date people, and I definitely don’t want all that pressure of my first full time job.

And it’s night shift too… so like idk if that’s good or bad.

I’m going to actually scream one of these days.

I can’t do this anymore I want to bash my head into a wall

(But then the wall would break so more like cement)

I want to do damage. I can’t hold it in anymore.

I wanna run out in the rain and scream, i wanna go and run away from home without my car.

I wanna just leave

I need to go

The tactical hallucinations are getting worse. I feel him on me. It’s no longer manageable. It’s just too much. It’s crazy. I’m crazy.

I’m just crazy. I feel like if I look I. The mirror there will be bruises on my neck where he choked me. I feel like there is a handprint on my arm from being grabbed… I can’t sit down without feeling hands on my thigh. My outer and inner thigh…

It’s too much

Just too much.

Wait. Ok so Billy Joel. Is on the tv rn?

100th show at Madison Square Garden so they are broadcasting it!

I’m just like ok.

I love that man

Music is life. Music is honestly the only thing in life that works to calm me down.

Have a good night guys

(Disregard me please)

#tw rant #tw ed #tw sh related #tw abuse #cw vent #tw cptsd #ash’s stuff ?#french toast

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kezmaggot · 12 days ago

Note

Lookat how cute he is 😢 I wantto kiss him on the mouth 😢

look ar. at the skrunkly 💖💖💖 he was forced to eat cement when he was. 6

#kennyanswers

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durmom · 4 months ago

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Its Useless

Part 9

Part 8:

Everything cements for Kelly, when Lucifer puts his hands on her. The boys seem hopeful with the device Ketch gave them. Everything is going to plan, until Sam watches Lucifer's essence go down the vent. Cas gets Kelly out of the room, still debating on what you said. Dean however is happy that they got Lucifer, not knowing what Sam saw. When they are put under arrest Dean can feel the blood drain from his face. He is at a loss for words, he feels utterly defeated by you. How could you be on their side and let this happen? In the truck Sam looks to Dean concerned. Sam is confused, specifically about you. It was clear to him that you cared about them, and would never want to hurt them so why, why would you not tell them this?

While Kelly goes to the bathroom Cas is thinking about what you said, was this nephilim a good thing? When Kelly calls him, he speaks without thinking, telling her she needs to get rid of the baby. Now stressed about the situation, he realizes its up to him to find Kelly, and that he does believe the nephilim needs to be taken care of. Cas goes back to the motel, seeing the boys are no longer there, he calls Mary to meet him at the bunker.

Dean is brooding in his cell, when the interrogator comes in all he can think about is how he wants to kill him. He’s an annoyance, disturbing his thoughts. His thoughts about you. His anger is so immense and all he can do is sit in his cell, where no one, but you, knows where it is. At this point he’s thinking about every way to escape.

At the bunker, you await Cas and Mary’s arrival. When they do arrive Mary is pissed when you explain what happened. She’s pissed as Cas for leaving her boys and losing Kelly. Shes pissed at you for letting them walk into it.

“Mary, I can’t explain it all to you but I promise you they are okay. It’s for the greater good.”

“I dont get why they didn’t call me?”

“Mary, you were out.” Cas says.

“Why did you let this happen?” she turns to you.

“Because… it needed to happen. I need you to trust me on this. They will be out. I promise you, just wait for them to call.”

“You promise me?”

“I promise. If not, you can kill me.”

“I will.”

Cas is not satisfied and goes to Crowley, who refuses to help. Mary stays at the bunker, when Alicia calls asking for help you tell her to go.

“Go, It's what they’d want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll run point from here, keep hunting, and working with the Brits. Which by the way will turn on you eventually but keep them close for now.”

“They’ll what?”

“Sorry today’s been a mess. The Brits will turn on hunters but right now we need to keep them close. When the time comes, I’ll call.”

“O-Okay.” Mary rushes out, confused, and clearly annoyed with you. Once alone, you feel the crushing weight of everything.

Over the next weeks Cas keeps trying to hunt down Kelly and Mary continues hunting. You on the other hand spent two weeks in another depressive episode. You’d sleep until one or two before forcing yourself up to eat, check on Mary and Cas, and look for cases for them to work. After two weeks you get angry, why did Amara bring you here? It’s annoying to not be able to talk to the boys. That's when you get an idea. Cas has brought the impala back so you head to the car and rummage through the glove box. Finding one of the back up phones you call Crowley.

“Out so soon?” He asks.

“No, he’s not.”

“And who is this I’m speaking to? Is this Squirrels Nut?”

“Ew, what? No, Crowley, my name is y/n i’ve been working with the boys for six months. I need you to smuggle letters to them.” “And why would I do that?”

“Because I know you have Lucifer, and I wont tell Sam and Dean who will absolutely kill you.” The line goes silent.

“Where should we meet?”

“There's a bar, down the street from the bunker.”

“I know the place.”

“One hour.” You hang up.

Your foot shakes anxiously, every time the door opens you look expecting Crowley, which is dumb, you know he's just going to appear next to you. Which he does.

“Hello y/n”

“Crowley.” you actually smile. You always found him funny, dumb, but funny, and in the end he actually does do some good.

“So, Nut what's in these letters?”

“Ew, Crowley, not your best work.” He furrows his brows at you, “Nevermind, I know you know where they are, I just want you to get these to them. You won't be able to read them, to make sure they actually get to them they both have code words they have to say. I want you to return to me, here, in an hour, and tell me the code word. Also if they have anything to say, tell me.” He opens one of the letters looking it over before folding it back up, “Enochian.”

“Yes, do this and I wont tell the boys about your dumbass plan.”

“Really? For some lousy letters?”

“Yep.” You smile at him before taking a sip of the rum and coke you ordered.

“I guess I’ll be back.”

Crowley meets his inside man who somehow gets the letters to Sam and Dean. They both rush to open them.

Sam,

I know you have a lot of questions and I promise you I will answer as many as I can when you get out. To start, yes I knew this was going to happen. I swear to you it's for the greater good. I’m running things back home. Cas is looking for Kelly, yes he lost her, and your mom is hunting. She's obviously pissed at me, but it’ll be okay. Now I am going to tell you some things that you cannot share with Dean yet. I want to tell him but you know how he is, angry. Kelly’s baby. His name is Jack. He is good, nothing but good, he takes after his mom. Jack needs to be born, he saves the world. That's why I had to keep you in the dark, I couldn't risk it. Again I will answer more questions when you're out. I know you boys have a plan, it's a good plan by the way. I love you Sammy, I’ll see you soon.

P.S code word is Crowley’s a hoe.

Sam knocks on the door to signal he’s done. When the guard comes up he flashes his black eyes to show it's Crowley’s demon.

“Say, I believe her. Code word is Crowley’s a hoe.” Once alone Sam rereads the letter and can’t help but laugh. Only you could make him laugh when he’s absolutely miserable.

Dean,

I know you’re pissed at me, I don’t blame you. There's a reason why I had to let you guys go through this. I am taking care of everything at home. I’m sorry it had to be this way. For your own sanity, the reason I did this was to save the world. It might not make sense now but it will when all is said and done. Trust me when I tell you that everything will be okay. Genuinely Dean, I had to let things go the same way they do in the show for the reason it actually saves us. It saves everyone. I know you told me to leave but I’m not going to. I believe in you boys and will be by your side whether you want me to or not. I still care about you. I love you Dean Winchester.

P.S code word is magical liopleurodons

Dean gets up and knocks on the door, all he says is the code word. Once the demon leaves he turns and punches the wall.

Crowley meets you back at the bar and recites what Sam said, and the codes.

“Sam says he believes you. Dean didn't say anything.”

“The codes?”

“Crowley is a.. Hoe. Magical liopleurodons.”

“Good job!”

“Are we done here?” His shoulders hang low, fists balled into his pockets.

“Not quite, have a drink.” You wave over the bartender and order the fruitiest drink you can, with an umbrella.

“You know Crowley, I actually find you hilarious.”

“That's what i’ve been trying to get these hooligans to see for years!”

“They just can’t give you that satisfaction.”

Once your drinks are finished you part. You would have liked to hang around him a bit longer but he is the King of Hell in this world, and is actually bad. So not the best idea to tell him about you. You decided to have a couple more drinks when a good looking guy comes up to you. He was no Dean, but attractive. You were drunk, and sad so you thought why not. You needed to release some steam and it's been quite a while. Dean is not going to be happy with you when he gets out, so that relationship is dead. Might as well enjoy yourself, Dean was a slut anyways.

The hookup was messy, not wanting to leave with a guy you just met, you decide on the bathroom. He has you up against the stall, since it had been a while and you are drunk, you finish fast, as does he. The feeling is euphoric, minus the fact you kept imagining it was Dean. When all is said and done you say goodbye and go to the car. Suddenly you start crying, full of guilt. This isn't who you are, you’ve never had a one night stand type of thing. Trying to justify it was fucked up but you did need it. The following days though consisted of the same thing, getting drunk and hooking up with a guy at the bar. It was a coping method, more a method of self destruction and self harm. The guilt of the boys being locked in a cell was eating you alive. The sex allowed you to forget about it for a moment, then feel it in full swing. Your daily routine was the same. Sleep until one, eat, check for cases, call Mary, go to the bar and drink, sex, leave to go back to the empty bunker as late as you could. Everynight you found yourself in Dean’s bed, sleeping in one of his shirts. Slowly you were deteriorating. However one morning when you called Mary about a case she told you she needed you to take care of it. It was a small nest of vamps and she knew you could handle it. Reluctantly you agreed. You packed up the impala and headed to Virginia.

The case was easy, you had Sam make you fake IDs a couple months back so you were able to get into the morgue, talk to the sheriff, and interview family and friends of the victims. You worked quickly and wrapped the case up within two days. The nest had five vamps, living in an old barn in the woods. They had kidnapped a sixteen year old girl after killing a forty year old man. You were able to save the girl and kill all the vamps. They were almost too easy to kill but you were fueled by so much rage that it was almost fun.

That night you went back to the motel to shower before going to a bar that was a walk away. Sitting at the bar you stir your drink just staring at the liquid in the glass. Dissociating is the easiest way to get through this period. You sense a guy standing next to you. He orders an old fashioned. Taking a deep breath you take the last of your drink like a shot. You turn your head to look at the man next to you. He’s tall, between the lines of lanky and muscular, and has a boy band type haircut. Looking at his clothes he wears a suit, mismatched socks, and dress shoes. When you look back up you see him looking at you smiling politely.

“Sorry.”

“No you're fine. My name's Spencer.”

“Y/n, I like to just observe people.”

“Me too. What’d you notice about me?”

“You wear mismatched socks but are wearing a suit, so not your normal attire. Clearly dorky, a compliment by the way, a star wars fan and..” looking back down to his socks, “doctor who.”

“Good job.” He smiles at you before taking a sip of his drink and pulling out a stool to join you.

“Thank you. So Spencer, what about me?”

“Honestly I can’t tell much about you but clearly you’re here trying to forget something…” intently he looks into your eyes, “ or someone.”

“Ha! Kinda both.”

“Tell me about it?”

“Hmm, why should I?”

“I’m a stranger? Tell me and I’ll share something with you?”

“Are you also trying to forget someone?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay. Deal.” You adjust in your seat, “I have a friend, Dean. Ever since I met him he’s been so back and forth with me. We are either best buds, laughing, and having a good time or we are screaming at each other. It's been so frustrating until this last case. We are PIs, I knew something about the case that I couldn’t tell him and when he found out he was so mad. I mean I’ve never heard him yell like that. But I couldn’t tell him. It was for the greater good whether he realizes it or not. It just sucks, he’s been so back and forth and now he’s… now he’s not talking to me.” “How long have you known him?”

You chuckle, “I’ve known him awhile but we became friends about six months ago.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah.” you laugh again, “I don't really need advice, I know it’ll blow over but thanks for letting me vent.”

“You’re welcome.” Spencer smiles at you.

“So, tell me your story.” Spencer proceeds to tell you about how he’s in the FBI and he thought his friend died but they covered it up and she just came back. He tells you how angry he is about it because his boss and best friend lied to his face while he was grieving. It was around two in the morning, you had spent hours talking. You had long sobered up and enjoyed Spencer’s company. Spencer offers to walk you back to the motel and you accept the offer. At the motel you exchange numbers saying you’d call. Going to bed that night was easier, for the first time in six weeks you talked to someone genuine, it was nice. The next few days you and Spencer kept texting, sometimes calling. He went all over the country, as did you, but he is mostly in virginia. Every night before bed you text Spencer until you fall asleep. You meet up once for dinner, after you feel like a new person. Like who you were before coming to this world, before nursing school.

The day had finally come, Dean and Sam were dead. Not really, but it was their time to escape. You knew roughly when they’d be escaping so you had Cas and Mary meet you at the bunker and stay with you for a few days. Cas finally gets the call. You all rush to the car to meet them in Colorado. You are shaking as you get closer, excited to see them but nervous about the reactions. Cas and Mary insist on help which meant the Brits. You sit in the car as they talk. Your window is rolled down, they obviously ask about you. Cas and Mary give little explanation. The Brits lead the way down the roads towards the Rockies. Night is passing, Cas tells you and Mary to get some sleep. That was not happening. You both are anxious to see the boys. In the morning you can tell you’re close. In your lap was a change of clothes for the boys. As Cas drove down the road you kept your eyes peeled for Sam and Dean. It was still dark but early in the morning. You see them running out of the woods and yell for Cas to pull over, the Brits drive ahead a bit. Cas and Mary jump out of the car excited to see their family. Knowing Dean is mad at you, you decide to stand by the car. Still able to see the boys but not the first to greet them, you are the one who let them get arrested. Sam and Dean are excited to see their family, the reunion is heartfelt. When Sam pulls away from his mom he starts looking around when he spots you. Sam gives you a big smile and jogs over to you. He gives you a hug, so huge that he actually lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you for your letter!”

“Of course, I needed you to know what was going on! And I knew it had been awhile since you talked to someone.”

“Yeah, it definitely gave me hope.”

“What are you doing here?” The blood rushes from your face, Sam steps aside revealing Dean, who is rightfully pissed.

“I- I have a change of clothes for you.” Is all you can say.

“I thought I told you to leave.” Now Dean is inches away from your face.

“I can’t.”

“After the stunt you just pulled?” He puts his hands on the car, trapping you.

“I swear it’s for a good reason.” Even though he has you trapped and is trying to intimidate you, you hold eye contact and remain calm. However you jump when he hits the car right next to your head.

“Dean!” Sam grabs his brother to pull him off. Dean shrugs Sam’s hands off.

“No Sam! I'm done with her ‘good reason’ bullshit! If she’s on our side why is she not helping?”

“She is. Dean, we don't have time for this, we have to go.”

“Fine.”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #destiel #reader insert #sam and dean #spn #sam winchester #supernatural #the winchester brothers #supernatural y/n

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horsesarecreatures · 2 years ago

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Book review: I Must Betray You by Ruta Sepetys

This book is grim, but I’m glad I read it. It is a very eye-opening look into Romania under the rule of it’s communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu. The main character is a 17 year old boy named Cristian Florescu, who lives with his parents, sister, and grandfather in a one bedroom apartment in Bucharest. One day while he is at school, he is pulled aside by a Securitate agent. The agent somehow knows that he accepted American stamps from the son of his mother’s employer, an American diplomat, which is illegal. The agent blackmails him into becoming an informer on the diplomat family, first by threatening to arrest him, then by threatening to arrest his whole family, and finally by promising him medicine for his grandfather with “leukemia” (is is later discovered that the grandfather was actually poisoned with radiation by the government). Cristian has to decide whether he will fully comply, partially comply, or try to sabotage his missions.

................................................................................................................................

I knew from watching travel shows like Globe Trekker that things were pretty bad in Romania during that time, but the things I read in this book still shocked me. Ceausescu in some senses put Stalin to shame, and the fact that he was critical of other communist leaders made the West turn a blind eye to the atrocities that were happening under his rule. Before Romania became the last country in the soviet bloc to have it’s revolution, some things that became normalized in there included:

- Extreme food restrictions that were more severe than the rations during World War II. People had to stand in lines for hours in the cold after their 12 hour work shifts just to get something like a small piece of bread, or cooking oil. If a person over purchased food, they could be imprisoned for 6 months to 5 years.

- Due to Ceausescu wanting to increase the worker population, he encouraged women to have 10 children. They had to undergo forced, unsanitary monthly gynecological exams at work. If they were pregnant, the state tracked their pregnancy. Birth control and abortions became banned.

- The majority of orphans in the state weren't parentless; they just had parents that couldn't afford them. Most orphans were indoctrinated by the state to become Securitate agents. Others were deemed "deficient” and kept in concentration camp-like conditions.

- It is estimated that about 1 in every 10 people in Romania was an informer at the time. Everyone informed on everyone, and people’s homes were bugged and had hidden cameras in them. It wasn't enough for Ceausescu to isolate the country from the rest of the world; he also had to isolate citizens from each other by creating an atmosphere is mistrust.

- Children of political dissenters were also at risk of being sent to prisons were they were tortured along with adults.

- Citizens went years without ever eating fruit. All of Romania’s “good” agricultural products were exported to pay off the debt Ceausescu plunged the country into with his failed oil investments.

- People never knew when they were going to have electricity. This wasn't just due to energy shortages; it was a strategy of the regime to keep citizens powerless through the unpredictability of their lives. Babies in incubators died at hospitals all the time when the power went out without warning. It was also illegal for temperatures to be heated above 16 degrees in the winter.

- Citizens had to report all contact they had with foreigners. It was illegal to own many items, from foreign currency to sofas to unregistered typewriters.

- Romanians could not leave the country or apply for passports without the risk of being arrested. They also could not choose their own homes, or freely change jobs.

- When Bucharest’s historic buildings were raised and replaced with cement apartment buildings, the dogs that previously lived in the destroyed homes were forced to the streets. As they were starving, they often brutally attacked and killed citizens in packs.

#i must betray you #ruta sepetys #non-fiction #historical fiction #novel #bookblr #book review

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ultimateplaylistmaker · 1 year ago

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*Points to Kokichi* He was born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2, was hit with many rocks as a child, was forced to eat cement when he was 6, and looks like he ated an bees

And yet, thatsstill an iq 2 higher then everyone else around him

#ndrv3 #anon chaos

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zaliasownedthisacc · 4 months ago

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A sketch of eren because why not

He looks like vomit...

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren #aot #lazy background #i love drawing him so much y'all don't understand #he's so ugly i love him #look at him #he was forced to eat cement when he was 6 #attack on titan #snk

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thequietmanno1 · 1 year ago

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TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 94, Replies Part 2

1) “OH WHAT THE FUCK HIS FACE”- Well, not all of it, but enough to say he’s not that ugly a dude after all, underneath all that. Got that Dave Baustra/Dwayne Johnstone look to his features.

2) “Oh jesus man you guys waited a whole day to remove the bodies and start investigating it? poor bastards, were left to rot in the open like that, I knew this society was rotten to the core #Stain was right”- Seeing as nobody actually died in this suppression incident, I’m not really sure what the body outlines are meant to indicate, especially since the only gunfire used in the fight was by Knuckles’ own hand.

3) “And I still want to see how that would’ve looked in an official hero report. “So I recruited a civilian fighting in an illegal ring and a non-licensed pro-hero in training also fighting in the same illegal ring to help me fight a villain. I also tried to pay them with law-enforcement funds but they refused””- I think Knuckles was working with the corrupt parts of the system long before he started working outside of it as a vigilante.

4) “Also completely bending the hero rules as he sees fit to protect elements that by intents and purposes were criminals and should’ve been arrested, but that’s too long so let us keep it at “cautious””- Knuckles sweeping this whole mess under the rug benefitted Him as much as it benefitted Mirko and Rappa, but it benefitted AFO in the end more. 5) “OH THANK THE FUCKING LORD THE BLACK BACKGROUND IS GONE THAT MEANS WE’RE OUT OF THE NIGHTMARE

WHERE IS KOICHI, IS HE STILL UP IN THAT BUILDING? IS HE EATING PROPERLY? TELL ME ABOUT MY BOY FURUHASHI

TELL ME”- No news on the best Boi yet, but the good news is we won’t be dragged into any further flashbacks now… 6) “that super secret ultimate showdown that was so secret that apparently everybody in the police force is aware of for some reason, since a completely unrelated nobody like you is thinking about it

oh my fucking god man”- I’m gonna take a guess that The higher-ups were made aware of the fight by necessity in order to account for All Might’s weakened performance, and those law enforcement who had been experienced in the job for a while were able to find out the particulars through their own investigating around the office, based on “detective instinct’ something was up.. If that’s too much of a stretch, don’t worry, the massive plot hole he just opened got sealed with a bang. 7) “the dots that show that the super-villain from back then is too similar to the ones that showed up at naruhata, and the ones at the sky egg??

HUH?! SOMEONE IS CONNECTING THE DOTS?!

WHAT”-

Furuhashi: Well, we can’t have that! (kills him literally a few panels after he realises) Remember kids, competency kills!

8) “ DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST FOUND THAT AFO WAS BACK YEARS BEFORE EVERYBODY ELSE?!

AND HE DIDN’T TOLD ANYONE?!

WHAT

NO, HE’S GONNA BE KILLED, ISN’T HE? THERE’S NO WAY THAT HE CAN JUST BRUSH THIS UNDER THE RUG, SOMEONE IS GONNA ICE HIM FOR SURE”-Well, it was a bit more of a fiery cover-up than a stone-cold cement shoes ending for him, but yep. Didn’t even make it to the chapter’s end. 9) “ITS HIM

IT’S FUCKING HIM FOR SURE

HES GONNA FUCKING KILL TANUMA”- The Nomura everywhere system strikes again! 10) “SORRY DUDE, BUT YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME

DEATH IS KNOCKING AT THE DOOR RIGHT NOW, AND THEY REALLY WANT TO HAVE A CHAT”- Tanuma’s chat with the reaper was short, but loud.

11) “I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE IT

HE FOUND OUT THE TRUTH JUST FOR McBEE TO SHOW UP AND IMMEDIATELY KILL HIM TO KEEP THE TIMELINE STABLE”-Not the smoothest way to resolve plot inconsistencies, but certainly takes care of all the bumps in the road we’ve have had to deal with should Tanuma have lived. 12) “And out he goes, the say was saved once again thanks to McBee!”- When the Villain is the one saving the plot, you know something’s gone amis. 13) “Oh ho ho, I’m already liking where this is going. McBee is off his shits after that humiliating encounter with koichi, I can only hope this mean we’re about to see something magical happen

Now I’m excited to read what might come next, that’s for sure”- The chains of the past no longer restrain us, now the showdown of the next generation of vigilantes can commence! 14) “Which now, after properly finished and with all the information provided by it I can finally say:

why in the fuck was it even included here

Like, holy shit, I was already questioning how anything that could’ve come up in the flashback could benefit the plot in the present, since Koichi was not even involved in learning about what we saw it was a cop revisiting an old file, and then the chapter ends with McBee killing said cop and erasing all evidence

Net zero information gain for the story. Could’ve added those last five pages to a chapter as footnote and it would’ve been just as effective, perhaps even more effective. Like, no joke, what did we even learned there? And I don’t mean that Hoodie and Mirko fought before or that Rappa and Mirko helped a pro hero before going their separate ways, I mean, what information here was meaningful for understanding the Vigilantes manga itself.”- Given that the ending of the Manga was looming (which wasn’t announced to anybody until a few chapters away) I guess they wanted to show what Knuckles’ past connection to AFO was and how he got on his trail in the first place. That said, I do agree with the pacing issue, it felt like a filler arc that got added to pad out the runtime of an anime in-between adapting ongoing arcs of a manga. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #bnha vigilantes #vigilantes 94

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