#not bringing this years dust and depression into next year

[the-cookie-of-doom]

I want to write. Unfortunately I just spent 2 hours cleaning my Depression Nest so I can have a habitable room again, and now I just wanna nap ;-;

[joonjuul]

choked on smoke. jjk

pairing: exboyf!jk x reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: exboyfriend!jk, softdom!jk, kindasubby!jk, jk is a switch??, bro is yearningggg, lots and lots of angst, reader is slightly depressed, breakup mentions, choking, light mouth play, lots and lots of cigarettes, crying mentioned (non sexual), pet names, slight impreg kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight creampie mentions, more pwp don’t hate me

a/n: this was a lot of fun to write. it’s like all my favorite things in one: desperate jungkook, cigarettes, and angst. reqs open!!

╋━

you still remember how it felt. so close to him yet so far. the way your heart thumped in your chest, your cheeks hot with tears, mind racing, palms sweaty. you remembered it almost like it was yesterday. the way he looked into your eyes deeply, before breaking you in ways you never knew were possible.

“this isn’t working.”

you could still hear him now if you focused really hard. you could still hear his laugh. feel his skin against yours. the way he used to twirl your hair, or circle patterns along your bare back as you laid beside him. you missed him more than anything, and every time you thought about him it only deepened the wound.

it’s been a month now. a month since you last saw him. last touched him. you feel the cold gust of wind rustle against your clothes as you bring the dainty cigarette butt up to your chapped lips, inhaling slowly before feeling the intoxication fill your lungs. even dressed in your warmest clothes, you still couldn’t escape the icy january wind, or the coldness that consumed your insides from sheer loneliness.

you look down at the cigarette in your hands, watching carefully as the ashes fall to the ground, the wind picking up pieces and allowing them to float off, find another spec of air to pollute. but the thought of you being a smoker now is only nauseating. you only started smoking so you could feel closer to him, so you could experience his scent one last time. it wasn’t a habit you picked up by your own means, just another way for him to poison you for the rest of your life.

you flick the half smoked cigarette off your balcony and turn to face the slider door, entering your now slightly chilled apartment.

everything was dark now, it wasn’t something you could fully explain or put into words, but your life was dark, your apartment was dark, everything about you was dark, and you knew he was the reason why.

you daydream as your feet carry you to the kitchen, eyes dancing over the messy sink, the fridge that was practically empty, and the cupboards that were collecting dust before turning back around and slumping down on your couch.

you weren’t sure what to do these days. it always felt like you were waiting for him to come home, but he never did. you could easily kick your feet up and watch a movie, do something to distract yourself, but you never did. you simply wallowed in the pain and memories of your last moments together, wishing you could’ve done something differently.

your mind drifts as you hear the subtle patter of rain begin outside.

at least it wasn’t snow.

how could he give up on you so easily? after all those years? it was never something you could fully comprehend. how one day he looked at you with his eyes full of love, and the next like you never existed to him, like he never loved you at all. you sometimes entertained the idea that he had found someone knew, something to make you hate him, make him easier to forget instead of having to live with the fact that he simply didn’t love you anymore, but it never worked. he was the most loyal man you knew, even during your hardships. it wouldn’t be fair to him to paint him as the bad guy when in reality, neither of you did anything wrong.

you’re quickly brought back to reality at the sound of a knock at your apartment door. it was almost strange, you never had visitors, in fact you didn’t really have any friends either. it could very well be your mom checking in again, but it was late, and she never liked to walk in the city at night.

before you can finish the thought, you’re in front of the door, your hand on the doorknob as you turn it slightly, the chill of the hallway gently caressing your face as your eyes fall on a very tall, very wet man standing before you.

not just any man.

“jungkook?”

his eyes are bloodshot, his face cold, and his clothes dripping with remnants of the weather outside.

“can i come in?”

his voice felt like your very first cigarette, the way you inhaled it perfectly the day he left you, the way the poison immediately swept through your bloodstream and straight to your head, leaving you dizzy and desperate for more.

you’re unable to garner a response, only able to stand beside your door, allowing him space to brush past you and into your once bright and welcoming home. but somehow, he doesn’t notice how your apartment has changed, and he doesn’t notice how you’ve changed either. how much weight you’ve lost, how you’ve cut your hair at least 3 times, how your undereyes are littered with bags instead of freckles.

you shut the door behind you as you watched him nervously pace throughout your kitchen, eyes dashing between you and the floor. his lips were pouty, like they always were after he cried. why was he here?

“jungkook, what’s going on?”

he stops in his tracks, turning quickly to face you, but never stepping closer, almost as if you’re too fragile for him to be near.

“i fucked up, y/n.”

silence fills the space between you, only the gentle, distant sound of raindrops filling your ears. you want to answer, you want to scream, you want to fall to your knees and beg for him back, but you don’t. instead you stand still, watching him intently as his eyes narrow in on you.

“i fucked up, bad.”

he takes a step closer, watching your reaction carefully, examining your body language. he looks desperate, like his life is filled with anguish, like he’s as broken as you are.

“i quit smoking.” he mutters under his breath. “i knew how much you hated it, so i quit.”

silence.

“i started smoking.”

his gaze shifts at your response, his brows furrowed together in a way that makes your knees weak, a way that makes your body crawl with need.

“why?”

he steps closer again. you watch as his hands go down instinctively to your waist, but stop before he’s able to make contact.

“because they reminded me of you.”

your eyes meet perfectly, dancing between each other as you feel the air between you thicken. the distant rain now turning into something of white noise as your mind zones in on one thing; him. you can see the hurt on his face, but you’re sure he can see the hurt on yours as well.

“why did you leave me?”

it comes out barely over a whisper, and you’re not sure why you said it, but it was a question that had been repeating in your mind for weeks. you thought you knew the answer, but seeing him here in front of you now, you weren’t so sure.

“you really don’t know do you?”

you shake your head no.

“you’re like a flame, y/n.”

he takes another step forward, his hand falling to the side of your face as he cups your skin gently, his touch igniting something within you.

“so beautiful, so warm, but always burning. i’m covered in scars from holding you to close.”

his words cut deep, but for some reason you still can’t understand. he was your world, your love, you never would’ve done anything to hurt him.

“i never asked you to break yourself for me. i just wanted you to stay.” your voice is hushed, breaking the barriers between you as you feel your chest get heavier, like you’re smoking him now, like he’s been the real poison all along.

“you pushed me away long before i left.” he continues to lean in towards you, his touch on your face only deepening the crimson on your cheek.

“you’re the one who gave up.” your voice is raw as you stare up at him, watching as he carefully tucks a hair behind your ear, hie eyes filled with desperation as you now realize how close you are to him.

“do you think i wanted to? you don’t even know how badly i wanted to stay, or how much i still do.” his stare intensifies as his gaze shifts down to your lips. his hand against your cheek is tender, but his face screams urgency as you both linger in the silence for a minute, your breaths mingling as you each wait for the other to respond, or to come closer.

“i still do.” jungkook mutters before tightening his grip on your face gently, pulling you towards him as he engulfs your lips in his. the kiss starts slow, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters. but soon the hunger strikes, mouths turning desperate as the weight of everything left unsaid pours out into each touch, each movement. before you know it your hands are tangled in his hair, your back pressed against the wall as he feverishly moves down your body, his lips finding every patch of skin he missed so deeply while you were gone.

“i never stopped wanting you.” he mutters in between kisses as he dives into the crook of your neck, peppering you with tiny bruises and marks, imprinting you in any way he can.

your movements are in sync, like everything you felt the last few months was mimicked within him, like he was struggling just as much as you were.

his hands quickly find the hem of your pants, pulling them down with intensity as his hands push your hips further into the wall. his strong arms holding you in place as he begins to rut against you, every moment he spent missing you now rolled into a tight coil within his stomach. every bone in his body yearned for you, for your touch, your scent, and he was painfully overwhelmed, his hard on probing you with every needy grind of his hips.

you moan out carelessly, his name seeping from your lips as your hands pull and tug his damp hair, finger nails falling to his back and scratching gently as his shirt, almost instinctually.

“need you.” he whimpers, swiftly picking you up and carrying you across the room, effortlessly tossing you on the couch before he falls on top of you, his crotch zeroing in on yours as his movements build in intensity.

“you made it so damn hard to forget you.” his voice shakes as he leans down into your ear, each word coming out in a desperate gasp as he tangles himself between your legs. your hands quickly fall to the hem of his pants as you tug gently, silently signaling for him to take them off, to which he obliges, removing his shirt as well in the process.

it was like seeing him for the first time, bare in front of you, sweat glistening on his forehead, cheeks flushed. it was more than you could’ve ever asked for, it was worth every cigarette, every tear, every lonely night.

you feel his fingers fall to your panties, pushing them to the side gently as he inspects your cunt feverishly.

“so wet and warm, just how i remembered it.” his breaths are shallow and quick as he strokes your folds gently before carefully aligning his cock at your entrance. his gaze shifts from your bodies up to your face, carefully examining your features, awaiting for your confirmation, but you’re only able to respond by bucking your hips forward with a gentle whine.

you watch as his features soften, the corners of his lips turning up into a gentle smile, a smile of familiarity as he places gentle, reassuring strokes on your thighs, and leaning down to whisper sweet nothings to you as he engulfs your mouth into another hot kiss, pushing his hips up with ease as he stretches you out.

the sting is long and rough, worse than you remembered, and it’s obvious that he’s affected by your tightness, his face falling into the crook of your neck as he whimpers, falling victim to your cunt’s subtle praise.

“god you make me crazy, i just can’t resist you.” his voice is filled with desperation as he bottoms out inside of you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he struggles to hold himself in place, allowing you the time to adjust.

you moan out at the feeling of his tip nudging against your g-spot, he always fit inside of you so perfectly, but you knew how needy he became when he wasn’t able to move immediately after entering you. one of the subtle sides to his unspoken submission for you.

“please. please let me move.” he begs, each word coming out in a desperate gasp as his hips gentle twitch and flick against you, his body filled with an overwhelming heat.

“go ahead, baby.”

at the sound of your words he immediately falls on a quick but gentle pace. his hips rolling into you perfectly as he watches your face contort with pleasure and desire. he was completely at your mercy, he had never been so desperate to see you cum, the way your face lights up and your eyes roll back into your head. it’s all he’s been able to think about since the day he left, and he wanted nothing more than to bring you to the edge over and over again, until your body has had enough.

“fuck i missed you so much.” he groans out, his body melting into yours completely as he sets on a steady pace, the head of his cock perfectly brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. you can’t control the way your hands lose their place, bouncing from his perfect hair, to leaving crescent shaped marks on his back, to his ink scattered arms.

you’re a moaning mess, his every move perfectly aligning within you, as if your bodies were made for one another. you could feel the intensity in the room shift the moment his eyes laid on yours, staring deep into your soul as he quickly snaps his hips back, your walls constricting at the sudden force, causing a dark chuckle to leave his mouth.

“forgot you liked it rough, baby. forgive me i want to savor this as long as i can. you look so perfect right now.” his voice is dark and raspy as he slows his thrusts, bringing a hand down to slowly circle your clit, the touch sending shivers through your spine as you toss your head back, releasing a guttural moan. he hadn’t touched you in so long, you hadn’t felt him in so long, and the way he was making you feel could only be described as euphoric.

“there you go, baby.” his praises only spur you on more as you bring your hips up to meet his, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity.

“i’m hopeless, baby. hopelessly yours.”

“keep going, that’s a girl.”

“god i’m addicted you.”

“you’re so beautiful, it’s torture.”

every word, every phrase spilling from his mouth go in one ear and out the other. all you can think about is how perfectly his cock slides in and out of you, the sounds of your wetness mixed with the now distant pattering of rain and his quick breaths all you can hear as you feel a coil build in your stomach. you wanted nothing more than to cum on him, to watch his face twist as your walls tighten around him, to moan his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. he was yours, and you were his.

jungkook looks down at you, watching as your eyes clench shut, your lack of response only telling him one thing; you were close.

“sweet girl-“ he mutters, pulling his cock out of you and bringing an arm under your back to quickly flip you over, your stomach consumed with the warmth of the bed as he easily slips back inside, his breath hot against your neck. “i’m desperate to see you cum.” his pace quickens, his voice shaky as he begins to fuck into you faster now, watching closely as your constricting hole tugs him back in with each thrust.

your head is spinning, your body on fire, the feeling only intensifying as he reaches forward, gently tapping his fingers on your mouth as you engulf them fully, tasing the sweetness of your slick mixed with his precum. he curls his fingers, flattening them on your tongue as he draws them over your chin landing on your neck to grip it tightly. a finger on either side of your throat carefully cutting off your breathing as you feel your stomach tighten.

“cum for me pretty girl.“ his words linger in the air as you feel yourself get drawn towards the edge, hurtling over it before you have time to think. your legs shake as you feel a wave of bliss wash over you, your mind going blank as you feel your cunt gush around him.

jungkook watches intently, his thrusts becoming messy as he feels you tighten around him, his cock stalling within you as he relishes in the sensation.

“fuck.”

his hips falter as he tries to fall back to his original pace, fighting against your sealed walls.

you moan out loudly, causing him to quickly remove his hand around your neck and place gentle kisses along your back, his touch soothing any pain that may have occurred.

“shhh, it’s okay baby, i’ve got you.” your body doesn’t even process the overstimulation because you’re stuck on a high. you didn’t care that it burned, that it was practically unbearable, because it was all for him.

he brings a hand up to your hair, gripping it tightly as his thrusts deepen and increase in speed. his high not far behind yours as you silently pray for him to stay inside you, for him to coat your walls and tie you down, make you his forever.

“god you drive me insane. you have me wrapped around your finger, baby.” the head of his cock hits places inside you you never knew were reachable as he becomes frantic behind you, his body hot to the touch.

“gonna fill you up, baby. you’re never leaving me again.”

and just like that, you finally feel like your life is filled with a sense of light again. whether it be from the brightness of his cum leaking from your cunt, or from the lighter as he brings it up to your lips, carefully igniting the cigarette placed between them.

your eyes flick at him next to you, a sheet of sweat covering his body as he pulls the lighter away. you inhale deeply as you feel the smoke fill your lungs, but it doesn’t feel bitter this time, in fact, it’s rather peaceful.

you exhale, watching as the smoke fills the air between you as you bring the cigarette between his lips, watching his eyes shut in bliss as he fills his lungs with the same sensation.

“you’re pretty when you smoke.” he says as he breathes out, admiring the way your chest heaves gently.

“i learned from the best.”

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[slayagami]

𐙚 synopsis: after losing consciousness in a villain attack, you wake up 2 and a half years later in the hospital. the time doesn't feel long to you, so adjusting to the new updates takes you by surprise. like your boyfriend of 2 years, izuku midoriya, apologizing that he found love elsewhere, in your best friend ochaco uraraka. you find refuge and comfort in your old friend todoroki, who visited you everyday you were out. does new love blossom or do you fight for midoriya back?

𐙚 pairing: midoriya x afab!reader x todoroki

𐙚 warnings:: mild violence, cursing, cheating?, love triangle-ish, angst to fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, depression, nonchalant reader but over thinker, reader struggles expressing emotions, characters are 22

𐙚 readers quirk: poison arrow. can appear a bow and produce arrows that are ingested with poison that can temporarily paralyze or slow down the movement of who was shot. effects lasts roughly 20 minutes but depending on the victim, possible to move but will be slowed down. quirk allows the reader to have sharp sight, and can see farther and more clearer than most. reader has to train to shoot arrows more accurately. strength of poison depends on readers emotions. hero name: artemis.

𐙚 a/n: slow writer </3 3.9k words & might include typos, i finished this at 4:45 am lolz. link to join tag list is at the bottom! [next]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° mha m.list ! ┊ love again

you remember sitting in your u.a. classroom in your final year, ochako around your arm while giggles left the slip of her mouth laughing at iida’s antics. his stiff arms flailing around the place as he scolded bakugo yet again, red eyes full of irritation and annoyance.

“something’s about this class will never get old!” you laughed as well, holding onto your bestfriend. she agreed, slowly pulling you to the hallway as the lunch bell rang, waiting outside the door for iida and another.

you remember loving your class. loving your homeroom teacher. loving the lunch meals, loving the thrill of training. but most importantly, you loved the flirtatious glances across the room from bright green eyes, the soft pink hue of his cheeks dusting over his freckles, a nervous smile paired with a wave. you loved eating lunch with him, sitting beside him while your knees touched. you loved visiting his dorm room late at night to play games on his switch. you loved going on dates around the city with your hand holding onto his arm while he guided you through town. you loved graduating with him, jumping into his arms in your cap and down and diploma in hand. you loved the way he asked you to be his girlfriend, bringing a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and a pretty bracelet to your apartment door. you loved how gentle his hands always caressed your body, mumbles of permission being asked against your lips. you loved waking up in the early mornings with his arm over your torso, half naked while drool seeped its way onto your pillows, green hair tousled and scars on his back prominent. the melodic hum when you scratched his scalp, eyes peeking through long eyelashes up at your sleepy face. you loved working under the same agency as him, being sent on missions together and working hard. you loved having parties in your now shared apartment (after a year of dating) and inviting ochako and iida as well as other old classmates.

it was a comfortable life. so warm and loving. maybe that’s why you had this unfair situation happen to you. perhaps being too happy, too perfect, was a sin. but why? why have you been stuck in a void for so long, unable to move or wake up. faint beeping to your right. why did you deserve to be paralyzed for so long, after having everything you wanted. being where you wanted. you lost sense of time, only knowing the inescapable black hole that you seemingly floated aimlessly in. it was dark and cold. so dark that when you finally opened your eyes, even with the lights turned off the room was still too bright. it took you a while to understand where you were. pupils dilating as they adjusted to the low light. you turned your head to the side, eyeing the heart monitor and wires that connected from the machine to your arm, the soft glow illuminating the bed stand. there was a vase of flowers, still fresh, with a small ribbon that wrote ‘mom & dad’ . there was a red button behind the vase above the desk, ‘push for assistance’ and with a slow and sore arm you reached over. almost immediately loud footsteps and hushed yells came from the hallway, the intense flicker of the lights turning on causing you to wince and close your eyes.

“miss y/n! you’re finally up, how are you feeling?” the head nurse walked over with a clipboard, her blue eyes shining excitedly through her glasses. she wrote down on her clipboard while looking at the monitor, pen scratching filling in the silence. now that you had the chance to talk, your throat felt like sandpaper. dry and stiff, so scratchy it made your eyes water. one of the nurses standing around passed a cup to you, pink bendy straw in all its glory.

“what time is it? how long was i asleep?” a nervous glance between the nurses made you uneasy, fully awake now.

“ahem, its currently 3:44am. you were out for almost two and a half years. do you remember anything before you knocked out?”

a throaty laugh mustered its way up, scoff-like. you thought, unbelievable. it had to be some prank. some pro-hero reality show. you scanned the area, looking for possible hidden cameras. but the room was empty. just your heart monitor, IV bag, flowers. you spoke slowly, unsurely.

“i dont. i feel like i woke up a very long nap but im so stiff..” you fixed yourself to sit upright, your lower back tight. with uncertain eyes the head nurse gave an awkward smile, telling another nurse on stand-by to notify your parents. she spoke with a low tone, as if it would ease into her words.

“you were involved with a villain attack two and a half years ago. you fought very bravely one on one with a man who’s quirk went out of control. from what other pro heroes told us, your body had given out due to extreme exhaustion and overuse of your quirk, but your body automatically moved on its own and still fought. we believe the immense stress your brain and body endured is the reason you fell into a coma for so long.”

after the nurse ran your vitals she excused herself, and you spent the rest of your time wracking your brain to try and remember this so-called fight you were in. but you cant recall anything, and to be honest you don’t remember much of anything from before your coma. just the general facts like where you live, your agency, your friends, your boyfriend. but what you did the week before passing out? nothing. you don’t even remember when you had last went to your agency to work, just the general knowledge that you went. it was a strange feeling. almost out of body, like the person you were was you but also wasn’t.

it was 4:00am when your parents walked in the room, teary eyed and elated. your parents’ hair was longer, complimented with a few more noticeable gray hairs. it tugged at your heart not knowing the amount of stress you put them through, engulfing them in a warm hug. you talked for an hour or two, for any updates you should know and if everything the nurse told you was true. a part of you was hoping this was still a stunt. your parents awkwardly gave each other a look while you drank some water, unsure what to say. their hands found place in each other and intertwined their fingers, a thumb from your father rubbing your mother’s hand. it was quiet and still in your room. the clock on the wall ticking faintly in anticipation. you were now propped against your pillows, big eyes waiting for their words. and, almost comically, a knock on the door broke your attention, all three of you turning in curiosity. plush green of hair paired with the emerald eyes you fell in love with two- no, four? years ago. a smile cracked at your lips, your heart skipping at beat at the change of look your boyfriend held. hair that was shorter than before, styled and cut. a tanner complexion, slightly taller in height with new scars on his arms. he seemed more buff too, white tee hugging onto his biceps.

now, your eyes were always more perceptive than most, mainly because of your quirk. maybe thats why finding these differences were so easy for you to see. maybe thats why you noticed his new scars and shorter hair. maybe thats why your eyes trailed to his wrist, a thin gold chain wrapped around. a different bracelet from what you had given him on your one-year anniversary, to match with the old one he bought you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. your smile faded, intuition kicking in. something didn’t seem right. the glare in his eyes wasn’t as bright as before. weren’t excited. his face showed relief, sure, but also uncertainty. uncomfortableness. guilt. but for what?

you spoke softly, unsure. nonchalant. but your eyes held so many emotions. and midoriya knew that. he knew you’d rather be nonchalant when you’re unsure, even if the thoughts in your head are spiraling. he knew everything about you. which is why it was so much harder to speak. to get the words out. his eyes glanced at the machine next to you, the bpm slowly raising. with awkward, stiff steps he walked towards you, stopping at the your side of the bed. his hand held yours, unfittingly. you took note of the uncomfortable look on your parents face. it only made you worry more.

“it’s nice to see you’re finally awake. are you feeling okay? does anything hurt?”

of course, he still cares for you. you can hear it in his voice the hidden feeling of love and affection,

but why hide that?

like its there but he doesn’t want to show it. you can feel the tension in the room, in your neck as you strain to look at him. you told him you were fine, not knowing how to feel. the conversation lingered, all four of you sitting awkwardly in silence. in the background down the hall, faint flip-flop and footsteps made their way in the direction of your room. little gasps of air, brown hair shoving itself through the doorway.

“y/n oh my goodness! i’m so happy to see you’re finally awake!!” ochako squeezed her way to your side, hugging your body with teary eyes. she seemed like the only normal one, the only one expressing her happiness and relief. it was enough to make you feel better yourself, sighing in ease at her side with a light chuckle.

“of course im awake. that would’ve been a lame way to go out.”

she laughed with you, exchanging jokes and a giggle, yet slowly making her way towards midoriya’s side. then your unease came back. the weird gut feeling, the tug at your emotions and brain. you can see the remorse through the green irises. you can feel the thickness in the room. and as much as you wanted to run away from this feeling, you couldn’t. not physically, not emotionally. what in the world happened when you were out? with a quivering voice, midoriya speaks up softly. cautiously. you can practically see his puppy-dog ears folding downwards against his skull. “things changed between us.” you parents escorted themselves out, saying a faint goodbye. midoriya fiddled with his thumb, teeth nipping at his lower lip. you just say and listened. to his rambling, to the way his voice shook and how the back of his food tapped the floor.

“the doctor’s told us many times you weren’t going to make it. that your body would reject the IV fluids and make you ill, or your heart would stop and they’d struggle to start it again. i spent a year in agony, refusing to eat, refusing to work. i never left your side in the hospital. but it make me sick too. i couldn’t sleep, i-… i felt so hopeless knowing there was a huge chance you’d never wake up.” his lip shook with every word like a leaf to a tree, the smallest crack in his voice breaking his sentences.

“and so ochako took care of me. she let me cry, listened to my nonsense, helped with my sleep and motivated me to go to work again…”

“i guess a part of me accepted you weren’t going to wake up, so i allowed myself to grieve and found new love in ochako. she said she the healthiest way for us us if i agreed to be with her even if there was a small chance you woke up and wanted me still. that if you woke up, i’d still choose her.”

you wanted to laugh. now this really had to be a set up. some sick joke. it was unfair. to wake up, and be told by your nurse you've been out for two and a half years. to not even remember you fighting in the first place. to be stuck in a black hole with faint memories of your past. to see your parents age in the slightest ways 'overnight'. to see your boyfriend change physically. to hear your boyfriend say he's in love with your best friend.

to have your best friend betray you.

frankly, you don't know what hurt more. the fact that your own boyfriend, or now ex-boyfriend, the same man who never let you open a single door, pay for a meal, tie your shoes or take them off, order your yourself, walk alone anywhere without him, the man who talked about marriage and kids with you. to just wake up and hear he couldn't "wait" for you. and that he still can't chose you just from a stupid promise.

or your best friend, the one you've known since you were 5, the girl who sat in the rain with you when your parents forgot to pick you up after school, the girl who's seen you cry so hard you threw up after your first boyfriend in middle school, the girl who always chose you over a boy, over anyone. or used to. ochako knows everything about you. she knows you hate super sweet foods because it makes your stomach hurt. she knows you like your coffee on thee slightly more bitter side. she knows you like the fuzzy socks with animal faces. that you attempted to run from home when you were 11 because your parents grounded you, but got lost at the subway station and cried. and especially knows your love for midoriya. ever since you first started being friends, he was all you talked about. she knows how much you talk about him and how he treats you so well, how excited you were when he first held your hand when he walked you home for the first time, or how you cried when you had an argument that almost ended your relationship, how you had a pregnancy scare and couldn't sleep for days. so why? and ochako looked at you with her huge brown eyes, almost hopeful. you can see it, her asking not for forgiveness, but for you to understand where she's coming from. if you can let it go because nobody knew if you would ever wake up. that she should have the right to date him too. that you were too late.

the tips of your fingers grew cold. your face grew even more pale than before, completely losing whatever life you could express. why must the world be so unfair to you? and why couldn't you express the frustrate you felt, the anger, the pain, the betrayal. you had it verbally sorted out in your head, everything you could possibly say to make you feel better by shitting words out, but the lump in your throat refused any noise to slip by. the room was silent, becoming colder each passing second. it was unsettling. the two just stared at you. green eyes filled with guilt, brown eyes with expectance.

you allowed yourself to slump down the hospital bed, trying to calm your beating hard. though the machine just gave it away, beeping at the same pace as you, only increasing as more time passed, the rise of your chest more visible as you kept battling your thoughts.

"i understand it must be hard for you, for your girlfriend to be unconscious for two and a half years and you finding the comfort in our close friend. and i know as heroes we talked about death, and for us to find happiness if we ever lost one another," you could practically see the growing excitement in ochako's eyes, holding onto every syllable that slipped through. was she even ochako anymore? did she even care that you just gained consciousness not even three hour ago? doesn't she not understand that, to you, yesterday you were 20 and today you wake up 22. you ignored her gaze and look dead straight into midoriya's.

"but i didn't die. and i guess it was wrong of me to assume you'd wait in the first place."

you could tell izuku wanted to say something, and you can see the stupid look in his eyes of wanting to be with you, but would rather be a man of his word to ochako instead of you. and ochako? the excited look in her eyes should be illegal. why is she so happy she gets to be with your man? why does she look like she’s accomplished something? did 20 years of friendship mean nothing to her? before she could slip a word out, your assigned nurse came back in with a stack of papers and medications, asking the visitors to leave so she can properly discharge you. her words found no importance in your mind, completely passing through your head as you replayed what just happened, the anxiety kicking in and making the monitor go off again, dangerously high.

but the nurse calmly removed your vital compressor on your arm as well as your IV drip, refusing to ask questions. she stood outside your door and heard everything. but she really didn’t have to. there’s articles everywhere pertaining to your coma and inside scoop magazine’s of midoriya and uraraka’s dating life. you guys weren’t celebrities or anything, but coming from a school like U.A. that documented your every move puts you in the spotlight. you were considered heroes as soon as you got you license anyways.

midoriya was always at the top of his game, having interview after interview, making his name known whether he meant to or not. he became a popular topic for years, and still continues to rise in popularity. and you got your spotlight after being sent to Kyoto with ochako to handle a gang of villains from the LOV in an abandoned building, managing to save three children who got lost in there while fighting off three villains with close ranged attack-based quirks. your quirk is mainly used for medium to long range combat, but you and ochako interned under gunhead and improved your physical combat which stunned citizens and made you a ‘big deal’. you spent 20 minutes using only combat skills and plain arrows to paralyze them, since they always attacked once you pulled your bow out, never giving you an opportunity. you both took a beating, sure, but you both had unwavering confidence and raw strength, causing you to headline for a couple weeks in Kyoto. ever since then, the media has been keeping tabs on both of you, and your relationship.

so obviously everyone freaked once pictures of him holding ochako’s hand went public, a year after your comatose article went viral. he received a lot of hate, especially from his friends. and it was hard for him to be out in public again without being ridiculed. he eventually stopped his hospital visits, the media speculating it was his new girlfriend’s jealousy of her boyfriend visiting his unconscious lover.

“take this medication when your body feels sore, its just some asprin. your limbs shouldn't feel too stiff, our staff helped stretch your body while you were in your coma. this reduced the shock of trying to use them after they were idle for so long. and these pills are supplements to update your body on the natural nutrients it missed throughout the years! come back in two weeks for an MRI to make sure your body is recovering well,” she handed you two bags of pills, and a change of clothes your parents had left before going to work. you took your leave, a stretch of the body with a silent ‘crack’ of your unused bones. it was roughly 8am now, the sky painted in pink and blue’s as the sun rose, rays of sun covering your body in a light hug. you thanked the nurse,

“oh, and before you go!” she chimed, blue eyes sparkling with interest, “i know its not any of my business, but while you were gone the handsome young man with red and white here visited you quite often, you should thank him.”

todoroki? he was a good friend to you, in fact one of your closest friends you shared with midoriya. you sat next to him your second year at u.a. spending time getting to know him as a person. he was always quiet during class, yet you can see how his eyes shone curiously as he eavesdropped on conversations, acting like he didn't care. or how he would engage in the silly activities your classmates did, like fake a protest when the teacher was biased, or twisting the top off a confetti canon as people walked in during your christmas party. most students always thought he was cold, mean and uninterested. you could tell how that affected him too in the long run, your classmates not conversing with him enough or being too scared too. though as the school year went on, more people realized he just wasn't good at expressing so much. and that he was in fact, just really dense. the only one he was ever mean to was his dad, understandably.

and so you spent class throwing pieces of paper on his desk, written in small characters random questions you had about him. when's your birthday? who's your favorite classmate? favorite subject? what manga do you read? it was simple at first. general question to please the curiosity you both held. until the questions turned into late night invitations hang out in his room, playing on his switch at 2am. he was fun to be around, he became sassy and full of snarky remarks as you grew comfortable with each other. his personality seemed much more brighter to you. and you told him a plethora of things, a bunch of tiny secrets you kept to yourself. throughout each time you saw each other, you grew to understand each other more and more.

“i dont know if i like him or if i just think hes cute..” you hummed, face squished on his silk pillows as you laid on your side. he sat on the floor, back questionably straight as he played on his switch. a piece of cookie stuck out of his mouth, “you and ochaco both like midoriya? isnt that.. against girl code, or whatever you told me?” blue and grey orbs flicker across your face through his bangs, a hidden emotion dwelling in the depths. cookie crumbs lingered on the corners of his lip, moving his attention back to the mini screen in his lap. you laughed naively, hand reaching out to wipe his face.

“oh, she doesnt like him! she said she only sees him as a friend,” the softest shades on pink touched the tips of his cheeks, his face heating up unbeknownst to you. nimble fingers stopped fidgeting at the buttons, peeking once more to look at you, though to his dismay your eyes remained elsewhere, distant. “and you? is it true you have a thing for yaoyaorozu?” your eyebrows wiggled, giggling like a child finding out these simple secrets. everyone in 2-a knew yaoyaorozu had the mushy-gushy for your bi-colored friend, it was a topic always brought up during parties when the two sexes were separated in their respective rooms, desperately seeking gossip. todoroki remained silent for a minute, a soft huff puffing out his chest. “yeah, i like her.” sure, he liked her. she was smart, intuitive, intelligent, diligent, a great leader. anyone would like yaoyaorozu. she came from money yet never expressed that she was better than anyone else, she was generous and humble, kind. everyone liked her. but in todoroki’s eyes, you can see he longed for something else

tag list @c0sm1cstqrsx @aliceblossoms @0b1wan @obeythehuman @whippedbyikemen @faimmm @sagejin @gummy-toes @seobstarr

[maddiedott]

It Will Come Back

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GN! Reader

Warnings: Very rushed ending, Logan through various different movies/timelines, gn! reader, fluff and tad bit of angst, sexual implications but not explicit, alcohol consumption (let me know if i missed anything)

Hi! Hope everyone is having a great day! I've been struggling with some Wolverine hyperfixation and Deadpool Wolverine being released on Disney+ like 2 days ago didn't help much. So, I decided I would finally post this fic thats been in my drafts for like a month now? It's heavily inspired by Hozier's 'It Will Come Back', so please enjoy!

Time was always a fickle thing for someone who could never age, who had lived centuries and watch as it affected everyone you loved and yet hasn’t graced you with the same courtesy, a long stretch that dipped into the horizon and melted against the inevitable void. There were times when you yearned for the ice cold grip of death, the blissful eternal sleep that most try to run away from, to prevent. But that was before you had met him, before he whispered life back into your hollow bones.

It was a fleeting encounter, words exchanged in a fraction of a second. You couldn’t recall how long this cat and mouse game played out, but you eagerly waited for the next moment you would see him, even if just for a glimpse. It started out slow, the long pull and stretch of time that came with his absence.

The first time you had met was in 1932, a time where many longed for the cold, dark Earth to envelop them so they wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. The interaction was brief, a swift knock to the shoulder as you passed down the street. He grumbled an apology, his voice rough and with an accent that didn’t quite stick in your head enough to name. There was a hesitation in his step as his gaze met yours, more of intrigue than anything else. He stopped completely as you called out, brows furrowed in annoyance. He turned towards you, apology leaving his lips. He introduced himself as James Howlett. An odd last name. You gave your name in kind with a smile.

He looked exhausted, although there wasn’t anyone in This Depression that wasn’t. So, despite your better judgment, you offered him a place to stay and some lukewarm meals to hold him over until he could find work. You never were much of a cook, even now you struggle to prepare much of anything, but it’s not without lack of trying.The rundown country home had been your home for a little before the dust bowl and the drought begun since you had moved into it, trying to busy your lonely mind with farm work. You had set the loft in the barn on your sparse and dusty property for him, giving him plenty of blankets and cloth that would make for a functional and maybe comfortable bed. He mentioned a brother who you had seen only briefly every now and again entering the barn before leaving a few minutes later, always snarling. And even though your instinct was shouting at you to question it, you never did.

There was always an objection to the kindness you showed him when you would bring meals, to leave him to the land as that’s all he knew- how he sleeps, to not be kind. But each time he only came back. It was routine until you found a small note etched in charcoal with the words ‘I come back’. And just like that he had vanished as if he had never existed, disappearing and leaving a strange ache in your chest.

You couldn’t tell when the next time we met was as the years turned to decades. People like you had gained a name; ‘mutants’ and they were becoming more and more common around the world. As narcissistic as it sounded, you thought you had been the only one, cursed to roam the Earth for eternity while watching everyone grow old and die around you. You hadn’t expected to run into him, not after 3 decades, and you surely did not expect for him to look just as the day that you last saw him, nor to recognize you.

You sat beside him on the barstool, not speaking until a whisper of your name fell from his lips as if he had figured out the answer to all of the prayers he’d whispered in the dead of the night to an unseen God.. A smile graced your face before you could stop it, turning in the seat to give him your undivided attention.

“You shouldn’t smile at me like that, you know better.” He gruffly spoke.

You didn’t realize how easy it would be to miss someone’s voice until you heard his. It was as if his words were a melody and you had been searching for the right tune all your life. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to cure you of any ailments for the day. You continued to show him the kindness he so desperately wanted to refuse. To offer him a hand and a soul, one that he feels less deserving of. This time was shorter than the last.

A few drinks, some chatting, walking, and a stumbling mess of feverish, open-mouthed kisses as we reached your apartment and found your way to the couch, the floor, and then the bed. He had ruined you, that much you knew from the very first press of his lips against yours, from the whisper of your name in the bar just a few blocks away, or perhaps it was the very first time his shoulder hit yours.

Towards the end of your euphoric highs, you had noticed the extension of bones from between his knuckles as they dug into your mattress and utterly destroying it. It led to a pensive conversation that eased as you revealed your own curse, your lack of morality. He showed off his claws, explaining his own hyper senses and regenerative properties. You admired the bone that extended from the divots between his knuckles, fingers ghosting over the claws. The night morphed into day as you both recounted stories, although you could tell his were vague and lacking details, keeping them for the darker parts of his mind away from the light.

You hadn’t realized him to be an army man before that night, but sure enough he was being shipped out that next day. So the reunion was cut painfully short and you had to wish him farewell from the comfort of your apartment’s sheets, tangled and damp with cold sweat from the previous night.

It was the middle of winter the next time. You moved from place to place as to not raise suspicion on why one of the neighbors never aged, stuck in a younger body than that hasn’t changed in the last few years of where you stayed. You could never forget James, he was always a lingering thought, a distant wish to run into him once again. As the seasons transitioned from to another, that wish slowly fizzled out.

It burned brighter one particular night, when there was a strange howling outside your door. There had been wolves hanging around, but they sounded nothing like this. So, with little fear to your well being, you opened the door.

He looked different, scruffier and wild. There was a metal contraption on his head that wired down to two boxes on either side of hips. The machinery and mechanism was complex as if he were some part of someone’s cruel experiment. There was a snarl sound emanating from his throat, sitting on his haunches. But his state of undress in the dead of winter was not what caught your eye but the sharp metallic ‘shik’ as metal drew from the divots where bone once did. A sharp gasp left your lips as he slowly stood to his full height, eyes locked and unwavering. He sniffed the air like an animal before taking a step forward, his instincts fueling his muddled mind, the movement subconscious.

He had found his way back, but at what cost? What had this poor man endured to become this way? This feral?

As he took a step forward you mirrored in a step backwards, crossing the threshold of your home and he simply followed. His wild eyes darted from corner to corner, sniffing once more and then taking a deep inhale. He visibly eased up, although still had the behavior of a cornered animal. You let him into the warmth of your home, let him wander and orient himself with his surroundings despite your conscious telling you not to.

It took multiple hours of gentle coaxing and many more attempts of snapping from him until you managed to get him to sit and settle down enough to remove the headpiece and electroids from his body, having them fall to the floor with a thud onto the carpeted floor. He just stared, even a whisper of his name had his head cocked to the side like an animal in a state of confusion.

There was dried blood under his nails, hair greasy and filled with mud and- you didn’t think you wanted to know what else it contained. Bathing and feeding him was no easy feat, metal meeting flesh and red decorating the floor; but, you eventually got it done and even had him dressed in sweatpants that were a bit too tight and the cuffs raised to his mid calf. It would have been comical if he wasn’t so out of his wits.

The next few weeks were awkward, each time you tried to leave he would grab your arm and tighten his hold in an attempt to get you to stay, but you needed food and he needed clothes that actually fit him. He still didn’t speak, just low huffs and grunts. When he finally did speak, it was low and broken as if he had forgotten how.

“Lo… gan…”

The words confused you. Why was he saying a stranger’s name?

“Is he the one that did this to you?” You ask softly, swiftly sitting beside him on the couch. You received a shake of his head in return and another mutter of the man’s name.

“I don’t understand.”

He ruffled into his pocket until a small clink of metal emerged and he withdrew dog tags with the name ‘Logan Howlett’ engraved. It was his last name, but the first one made no sense. On the opposite side it read ‘The Wolverine’. Was that his army name? You had heard of getting nicknames when in service but had no real idea about it.

“You’re Logan?” You clarify, eyes moving from the metal within his palm to his own eyes, still wild but tamed for now.

You received a nod from that, signifying you were correct in your assumption. That would make sense why he had never acknowledged me when you had called him James. So, from then on you referred to him as Logan.

You try not to think about the time during which you helped bring him back to a state of humanity, finding out his memories were scattered and he held no recognition in his eyes other than finding the smell of your home, of you, familiar. You cared for him, allowed him a place to stay and took him with you until he suggested a RV bed for an old truck. With the stash of cash you had dwindling, not expecting to care for another person, you hastily agreed. From there you traveled. City to city, province to province, finding cage fighting bars for cash while trying to bring peace to Logan’s mind and retrieve the memories lost or stolen from him.

Finding Rogue was a blessing, even more so when Scott and Ororo had rescued you both. You had been given a home and a lead on Logan’s missing memory and a chance for him to be a part of a team. So, when he was given information on a location that might jog his memory and insisted he would go alone, giving you his dog tags as a promise, you held some worry of course, but knew that he will come back.

[nrdmssgs]

Sleep, my brother

Masterlist

Nikto befriends reader at their darkest hour. Angst, hurt/comfort TW: mentions of depressive episodes (no descriptions), swearing AN: I had this idea for a while now and a friend of mine, to whom I wanted to dedicate this one-shot, made an incredibly beautiful, striking and sad songfic with Nikto. So it was my sign to finally get on with it. I won't tag a person, to whom I owe this, because this is quite personal, I'm not sure, they will be happy to see their name here. I love you, I wish it didnt hurt so bad.

Cold wind reaches the old table and steam over two cups of tea shutters and leans to the side. You don't react and keep tracing cracks on the oilcloth with your finger, not caring about grease and dust.

One should have start worrying, when a big figure covered with a strange concoction of gear appeared at the stair hall next to their flat. Or when that figure froze right in front of their flat and reached out for a doorbell. Nobody in their right mind would let him in.

But you did. At this point, you didn't care about an obviously military animal lurking around you. The last bits of self-preservation instincts died long ago, when you made the plan and rented this flat for the New Year's holidays. A man standing at your threshold with a few guns and knives, sleeping in carbines scattered around his gear, wouldn't change anything. Or maybe he could lend you a bullet in a spirit of festive celebrations.

You chuckled to your own thoughts automatically. You got no more smiles left, no more laughs, but this lifeless shadow of a sarcastic reaction was still there with you.

He said, it will take him only fifteen minutes, asked you to wait in the kitchen, wear your headphones, watch anything on your smartphone. As if you were that naive and didn't understand, what a guy with a sniper rifle can seek on a top floor of a nine-story block of flats.

This was a strange evening: once you started bringing your plan to life - everything went weird. First, your rented flat turned out decorated for the New Year celebration. The landlord must have thought, you were planning to celebrate. There was a tiny Christmas tree in the bedroom, a plastic faded garland and even a "Happy 1995!" poster right from the past. Then there was this guy... You knew, your home is turning into a crazy place, but never thought, killers, the guys from 90-s TV will come out this fast.

Even your childhood memories of endless bandit-series couldn't prepare you to this encounter. What one does, when a killer uses their room as a sniping position? Runs? Calls anyone? Writes a funny twitter thread?

You were out of ideas, but more importantly - you were out of fear or any emotions at all. So you found cups and teabags in a kitchen drawer and made some tea. There wasn't much thinking behind it - your plan was far too important to try to do the right thing with this guy.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty, then into fourty-something. You sat with your back facing the kitchen door and watched distant windows turning blue each time one scene of the festive concert changed for another. Everybody was watching the bloody concert today. And in an hour or so your hometown will turn to you, light up a thousand suns of TVs, look at you with myriads of copies of the same face with the darkest holes instead of eyes. "This was a tough year..." will it chant deep in your brain. You won't even need to hear the damned voice to know, exactly, what he tells.

But that won't happen anymore, because this will be the last-

"We are out." A hoarse voice right behind you drags you back to reality. In this time, he spent in the next room, you forgot, that the man speaks so strange. One accent mixes with another, the constant 'we, us' as if there was an army behind him.

"Ok." You don't turn back, just drag an ashtray closer to you and pat your pockets absentmindedly.

Your lighter clicks a few times in an absolute silence. He did just tell you, he's heading out of your place, didn't he? After taking the first smoke drag, you turn back and meet his blizzard gray eyes.

"Waiting for someone?" He points at the second mug. You wish he didn't wear that stupid mask, so that you had a chance to read his face and understand whether he's just confused or grows irritated.

"It's for you. Must have run cold already. Forget it."

The man ignores your last words and squeezes between your chair and the kitchen counter. He unfastens the belts holding his mask and moves it to the side, revealing a black balaclava under it. He takes a mug and looks around while you try to contemplate, what is actually happening.

"We didn't do anything there. Shitty intel. The target didn't come."

"You won't..." You don't know how to ask this, and just tap your hip at the same place where he has a handgun carabiner.

"I am many things, but not a butcher." It's the first time, your guest refers to himself as "I", but you mark this fact just with a tired sigh.

"You're... Disappointed?" The man takes a sip from his mug and catches your palm before you take another drag of your cig.

At first his gaze is cold, irritated, disgusted even. He pulls your cigarette from your fingers, brings it closer to his face, inhales your smoke and returns you the stub.

At first his gaze is cold, irritated, disgusted even. He pulls your cigarette from your fingers, brings it closer to his face, inhales your smoke and returns you the stub. And then his eyes soften and grow worried. As if he realizes something.

"Nobody's coming to celebrate with you?"

"I'm fine with that. Nobody is a way better option than..." You motion towards the window, uncertain if he can even understand, what you meant to say.

For a few minutes, silence wraps your kitchen. Only distant echoes of fireworks and the monotonous humming of the elevator engine muffled by the flat walls accompanies you two. Then he speaks again.

"We are staying with you."

He's not even asking. And that was not a part of your plan.

"No need, I am not celebrating really-"

"What are you doing then?" He cuts you off, completely ignoring your attempts to be polite.

In a desperate attempt to get rid of him, you mumble something about being tired and just planning to go to bed, but it's as if he doesn't hear you. In a few gulps, he finishes his tea, takes his guns and knives off his belt and puts it all on the refrigerator.

"So that you don't worry. We won't do anything stupid," he comments, and you don't bother noting, that the guy is so massive - he can snap your neck with his bare hands, so 'anything stupid' can happen without guns even.

Lastly, he takes the rifle off his shoulder and sets it down in the far corner without looking. A plaintive twang of strings rings in the kitchen, and you instinctively turn towards the sound.

A cheap guitar with a crooked neck - he must have hit it with the butt of his gun, hides in the dark corner. You two don't ask each other, don't share a single word. He just takes it, you light another cigarette and wet your throat with a cold tea. He tries to tune it and start playing. Nothing special, random melodies.

Little by little, you realize, his weird mix of accents must have an origin somewhere around here. Even though, he doesn't sing - you recognize the melodies, he plays. These are the melodies from your childhood. You listen and forget about time. For a short moment, the world narrows to this little kitchen, and feels somehow cozy.

Somehow bearable.

But then he starts playing one particular song, that you vaguely remember, and when you recognize it - the sound cuts your found peace like a razor blade. The man must have noticed your darkened face, because he stops abruptly and looks at you.

"Bad memories?"

"No, I liked this one back when it came out. It's just the guy, who sings it - he went mad." You look past your guest's shoulder, outside, at blue lit windows. "They all are going mad lately."

The man looks in the same direction for a few seconds and then turns back to you.

"Talking to furniture? Listening to the voices in their heads?"

"Talking to butchers," you say that in the most plain voice you can muster, but the lump rolling up your throat is still apparent, "Listening to butchers. Becoming butchers."

You realize that this probably sounds pompous and expect your guest to laugh. But he remains serious. And then something unusual happens: for the first time this evening, he switches to another language: your language.

"Obizhayut tebya tut?"*

Yes. A lot. So fucking much, you don't have any strength left. It hurts so bad, you just wish this all to end. Any way possible. Just make it quick.

But that you can't tell anyone. Not even to some strange man, that a decent person should be afraid of. So you just wave your hand uncertainly and mumble.

"Da kto menya tut obidit..."*

Nobody in his place would hear how much pain hides behind this little lie. But this man hears.

He puts the guitar aside, stands up and touches your shoulder after leveling with your chair.

"You need to sleep. Let's go."

"I need to..." He squeezes your shoulder softly and you grow silent. The turbid, dark-red air outside the window gets colored by bright sheaves of sparks and the cannonade of New Year's fireworks reaches you. Its midnight. And despite everything, you're still here.

Maybe because this whole evening is so surreal, maybe because the last few years felt like a drenching nightmare, but it feels so easy to go sleep on a sofa in a rented flat on a New Years night with this strange man guarding you. He sits in the corner, making sure, you have enough room. His hand runs softly over your shoulder, pets your head, fingers draw little circles between your shoulder blades. You almost fall asleep when he speaks again.

"We liked that song."

"Me too. Liked many things until lately."

"You know what?" He looks down at you, and you notice, there is no coldness left in his eyes. His gaze is still intense, but the blizzard is not roaring there anymore. "Fuck that shithead. It's our song now. We own it. You and... me."

You feel sorry once again that you can't see his whole face, so his expression remains unreadable. But his voice sounds dead serious. So you nod in response.

That night you drift to sleep to the stranger humming a melody from your childhood. He was a threat, a guest, a strange encounter. He was many things, but wasn't a butcher. Because he made sure, the next morning came.

"Obizhayut tebya tut?" - Anyone brings you trouble here?

"Da kto menya tut obidit..." *Nobody would dare/be interested in that.

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader

master list

w/c: 7k

A/N: this chapter is a little bit shorter than the last few but I hope you enjoy it regardless! huge s/o to @blueywrites + @jo-harrington for beta reading and helping me with parts ♥️

tw: 18+ no minors, depression, acts of depression, drinking excessively etc

Granules of brown sugar melt against heaping creamed rolled oats, nestled into the crisp white second hand vitrelle made Corelle brand bowls. The pattern of dainty brown flowers skim around the outer surface, one that Eddie is now rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb. 

He had never noticed them before this very moment. The guitar string callouses skid along the cool surface of the bowl. The familiar feel reminded him of the soft skin on your back as he held you while you slept, strumming along your body to the tired tunes of your breathing.

A song he’d listen to forever if he could. 

Eddie found himself noticing many new things he hadn't noticed before in the early daylight hours of the morning. He didn’t want to stir you, didn’t want to disrupt the beautiful sleepy angel next to him. Wrapping you tighter against him, pressing light kisses to your hairline, he soaked up the warmth of your skin against him. Drinking in your smooth breathing and matching it to his own. 

Fluttering heart beating wildly in his own chest, he can’t believe you are here with him. Last night felt too good to be true. All these months of lonely pining, unsure if you felt the same, only for it to be true that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you.

He was elated, heart overflowing and spewing candy hearts from his eyes and mouth at the weight of your body tucked into him, fitting like a glove against the bend in his arm. 

He was head over heels for you. 

A wave of assurance washed over him when he woke this morning and found you curled in on yourself, the cotton sheets wrapped tight up under your chin, slack lips open and your eyelashes laid sweetly against your cheeks. A breath of relief leaves his muscles— you’re still here. 

The rise and fall of your naked form when he pulled ypu into his side had him breathless upon first opening his eyes this morning. The sunlight basking through peaks in his bedroom curtains and providing enough light for the dust mites to dance their daylight waltz amongst the stuffy air and crowded surfaces in Eddie’s room. 

Cotton sheets dipped into your curves. The smooth skin of your cheek pressed into his own chest. The steady whirring noise of your breathing in and out of your nose with your lips closed delicately.  

Beautiful. Radiant. A thousand other adjectives he could use to describe you but there was only one he wanted to call you: his. 

The toaster erupts with a metallic clunk, bringing him back from his day dreaming and focusing again at the task at hand. 

Grabbing a knife from the silverware drawer, he smears cold butter against the warm toast, the knife scraping gently as the warm crusted pockets flood with butter and sweet grape jelly.

He finds himself daydreaming again. He pictures the corner of your lips coated in jelly, he’d reach forward and brush his finger against it, maybe his lips would kiss the crumbs away. You’d giggle at his stupidity and he’d melt like the butter into this toast at your warm smile. 

You were perfect. Everything he had wanted and more. And years of being friends, then enemies, then roommates and now lovers. He was giddy, stomach filled with snowflake flurries resembling a winter storm. 

He balanced the bowls of oatmeal in large hands, the toast cut in diagonals and stuffed like rabbit ears into the cooked oats. A pep in his step, he practically floated to his room, back to you, snug in his sheets, his pillows. He’s carried by the wings of the butterflies in his stomach. 

A tickle on your cheek has your eyelids fluttering slow, the cool feel of unfamiliar sheets twisted by your chin have you jumping in your skin, but the warm velvet voice in your ear whispering good morning greetings and a peck against your ear tames your heart and softens the goosebumps on your skin. 

The same calloused palms that held you in a protective manner last night now gently stroke the underside of your chin in a lazy pattern. Up the rounds of your cheeks, and circling the plump of your lips. Eddie’s hands are unusually warm against your skin, the heat from the bowls hot on his palms.

The mattress bends beneath his weight as he sits with one leg on the bed and leans on a hip over you. The bourbon colored ends of his curls sweep feather-like against your bare chest, like the white tufty pappus of a dandelion head.

You titter softly when his lips slide down your neck and blow a softened raspberry against your skin. 

“Good morning, baby,” he sighs beneath your ear. The pearls of his teeth graze your neck because he can’t stop smiling. The silk of your hands wrap around his arms, fingers gliding over the carve of his muscles. And your eyes finally flutter open. 

A halo of sunlight breaches his frizzy curls and pull every bit of amber from them, his smile cozy and familiar the warmth seeping through you as his blackened honey eyes drink you in.  

His eyes trail your sleepy features, caressing your skin with each slow drag across your face. Taking in every inch of you he can. 

“Sleep okay?” he purrs gently, planting a rose petal kiss on your lips. 

Last night was perfect, everything you had hoped for and more. 

You didn’t know sex could be so intimate, so passionate.  Feeling how much he cared about you with every kiss, every touch of his molten fingers on your skin. He gave you the love and adoration you had yearned for. And it felt good. 

So, so good. 

Something that delicious should be enjoyed again and again. An indulgence, a finger swiping into the edge of a frosted cake for temptation deemed too strong. But unlike the taste of frosting melting away on your tongue, craving more and wanting another taste, you couldn’t. 

Peering into his eyes, you can see how much he loved you. But the feeling sat sour on your tongue, and burned your belly in a lonely way.

But why? 

You could push through this right?

Didn’t you want this?

Want him?

Heart hammering for Eddie, all green flags and sticky love, kicking feet and giddy heated cheeks, but your brain was screaming another sound, ringing bells of unworthiness loud in your ears. 

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

A quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes implants on your lips. Insecurity is evident among them when the twinkle of love is replaced by dark brooding agony. And if Eddie sees it he is blinded to it. So wrapped up in bubbly love for you he thought you hung the stars. 

The way his brown eyes are gazing at you hurts your heart. Before hot tears can fall down your cheeks you blink rapidly. Wells of salt stinging in your eyes as you swallow them down. 

Answering his question in a hushed almost whisper, you push yourself up on his mattress, clutching the sheet around your chest, suddenly aware of how naked you are. Bare beneath the sheets a once welcomed coziness now feels like shards of glass embedded into your skin. 

Your knees tuck up beneath your chest, in a small attempt to shield yourself more from the man you wanted to love but couldn’t. 

Eddie is all adoring dimples and pinked cheeks. His voice is laced with flowing sweet words of pleasantries. He places a pillow behind your back, so you can be comfy,. 

The act cracking your heart deeper waiting to be split like the thin shell on a peanut m&m. 

“I didn’t ask, but do you like oatmeal?” 

You’ve never known a single smile burrowing into your soul deeper than his does. But it aches and burns. Nose tingling bringing up another wave of tears, you simply nod, you wipe your eyes hastily with the back of your hand as Eddie turns and grabs the bowls. Oblivious to your turmoil. 

He brings the warm bowl of oatmeal to the bed and places it in your hands. Jelly having slid down the toast and snuggling with the brown sugar and oatmeal. Joining you on the bed Eddie sits beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as you sit shoulder to shoulder.   

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

Lead filled arms hold the metal spoon to your lips, a warmth in your mouth that has no taste. For you are not hungry. The beast inside spreading its ferocious wings and sucking any amount of joy from you. 

But he said he loved me. 

He doesn’t. Don’t fool yourself. 

Staring ahead you are trapped in your mind. A hostage to your demons. The sunshine of happiness is replaced with heavy thunderstorm clouds of acidic rain, eating away your insides like maggots on a carcass. 

Eddie is talking between mouthfuls of his breakfast but you don’t hear him. The words unable to make sense against your ears as you stir your spoon around and around the bowl. A hypnotizing motion. 

Unaware of the state you are in, Eddie is floating high on cloud nine. A pinky cheeked cherub shooting arrows of lust below him. He’s giddy and cheerful, a light of beckoning hope next to your brooding steel trapped mind. 

He’s too good for you. 

The voices shout louder in your ears and you fight tears away. 

Just another notch on his belt, silly Tooty. 

Run, before he does. 

“Sweetheart?” your breathing is erratic and complacent. Sweat is trickling down your hairline. Wet beads in the space behind your ears and forming on your upper lip.

Run. 

Choking down the bile of panic cradled in your throat, you croak a smile. “Sorry, what?” 

-

The rest of breakfast is void of noise besides the ominous clinking of spoons against bowls and the gulping slide of oatmeal down Eddie’s throat. Chewing your toast to humor him you still taste nothing, barely registering your teeth are grinding together against themselves until Eddie asks if you’re alright. 

Fine, you lie, easy on your tongue, the forced smile is harder, painful. Settling an unease in your bones that creaks and groans like a worn porch door batting against the frame in a windstorm. 

Pulling hard to untuck the sheet from the one corner of Eddie’s bed that didn’t manage to come undone during the passion of last night, you wrap it around you fully, and scoot down the length of his mattress. The walk of shame gown held tight in your grip. Doubling as a shield of comfort around you, a flannel sheet of armor. 

Not announcing where you are going in fear of breaking, you scamper from the room, quick feet on the carpet and shivering in the cool air on your shoulders. Eddie’s hot desperate eyes burrowing into your back as you lock the bathroom door. 

He’s everywhere in this house, and your mind is suffocating. Lungs punched of any oxygen as you struggle to stand using the knob as a crutch. 

What makes you think you’re deserving of his kindness?

The daunting demonic voice laughs mercilessly in your head, bouncing off the pinked brain matter and echoing lol against the hollow marble of your skull, scribbling along it in permanent marker. 

Unworthy 

Undeserving

Hot tears stream down your cheeks and you shed the cloak of flannel armor, reaching for the silver knob of the shower and turning it to the hottest temperature the small water heater will allow. 

The stream of the scalding water sears your back like steak in a skillet, you welcome the burn with open arms. 

Thinking of Eddie’s doting and how sweet he was to you made your stomach splinter. All he was doing was exactly what you had hoped for, wished for, stayed up long nights aching for. 

But it wasn’t simple. 

You were terrified. Scared shitless of his love for you. But you knew Eddie and you knew he loved big, and cared in ways that most people couldn't fathom. 

Hot water rolls down the front of your shoulders and flows over your softened nipples, mixed with salty tears. 

The tears only stop when there’s a soft knuckled bang on the door. 

His endearing voice is small against the closed door, “hey babe?” 

You don’t answer. Unable to free your mind from the double hell of feeling inadequate and petrifying anxiety of being loved by someone you can’t love back. 

But you do love him. 

You always have in one way or another.. even when you shouldn’t have. You did. 

But the overwhelming feeling of his affection is too much, you don’t know how to feel, or act. Not as if Chad ever made you feel loved. Somehow the feeling of being loved is almost the same crushing feeling of being choked out. 

Because you’re not good enough. 

You don’t deserve him. 

The bathroom door opens and Eddie’s calm voice breaks through the void. Makes its way through the silent sobs that are causing your body to shake violently. 

His shadow is blurred against the shower curtain. Coy hands peel the cream plastic and blue fabric away slightly, opening the threshold to the shower and the steam rolling out, thick in his vision. 

“Tooty?” 

Back to first names. 

Back to the basics. 

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was wrong. And he had spent the last ten minutes walking back and forth along the carpet, wracking his brain. Pulling his hair in frustration when tears stung his eyes and collected like puddles in his lashes.  

Trying to figure out the solution to a problem he didn’t have the equation for. 

No one did. 

This was a fight within yourself, solving for x when Eddie barely passed basic algebra. Nobody could fix this.

Broken goods, sold at a discount and marked down. 

Trash. 

When you don’t answer he says your name a smidge louder. Reaching his fingers out to touch your shoulder and almost breaking on the spot when you coil away from him. 

His touch once so protective and undeniably reassuring in your blood now threatens to make you react with bared teeth and steel eyes. 

But you refrain, pushing yourself further away from him. Deeper into your sorrows of a life of despair, a valley of dread. 

Relentless, Eddie won’t give up easy. His voice is meek and breaking with each cold shoulder of avoidance you offer. 

You’re nothing. 

“Baby,” he pleads, a tear running down his cheek, collecting in the column of his throat. “Talk to me.” 

His cheeks return to normal color, his eyes don’t dance with twinkles, the corners of his mouth turn flat. He's beside himself. 

The voices deepens now, roaring loudly like a river. A familiar tone. One that has terrified you for almost a decade, Chad. 

You think someone could love you like me? Better than me? 

Take it, fucking whore. 

Yeah, cry for me. 

“No.” 

Eddie’s brows turn inward. Concern painting his face. “Tooty?” 

Who would want you? 

You’re nothing. 

A hand on your shoulder makes your spine twinge with icy cold resentment causing you to flinch unexpectedly, shivering away from him. A wounded animal, protecting yourself. 

“I said, no!” 

When you turn to face him you are met with wet eyes, and the saddest expression you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

One that would bury itself in your mind and haunt you at night. More horrifying than a scary movie because it was real, right before your eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t give you time to think before he twists his mouth into a question, “what’s going on? What did I do?” 

This is not a conversation you want to have. You can’t. 

Plain and simple. 

“Leave me alone,” you beg, salt in the skinned wound. You turn the water off and shove past him, your warm wet skin sliding against his dry bare chest. 

Unlovable 

Undeserving Tooty. 

The terry fibers of your robe cocoon you in a hug. And you’re reminded of the memories this fabric holds. The first night Eddie had moved in, and him wearing it with pride. 

The night he defended you against the twins, when you were piss drink and he wrapped you up tightly to cover you up. 

He was a good man. 

And you were a bitch. 

An unlovable shrewd, forcing someone to open up and then cutting them off because you couldn’t handle the thought of someone loving you when you couldn’t love yourself. 

You deserved what Chad did to you. 

Eddie is talking a million miles an hour trying to explain himself as you leave him in the bathroom. His throat aches from swallowing back tears and his heart is breaking. 

Turning in a swift jerk of your head you face him when he begs you to look at him. 

“Please, goddamnit please just talk to me. Help me understand what I did wrong!” 

“There’s nothing to understand Eddie! We fucked! So what? No big deal.” It was the biggest lie you’d told yourself. It was a big deal. It meant everything to you, but you couldn’t do this. 

He’s stunned, mouth hung open and his pink bottom lip starts to quiver. The same lips that kissed you so delicately and made you cum so hard it was like the Fourth of July behind your eyelids. 

Not having any of it, his sadness turns to anger on the drop of a dime, his shaky lip flipped to a snarl, “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you dare turn this around as just some one night stand bullshit.” His eyes search your face for any tell on a sick joke. But he knows you better than that.  

He can’t contain the fueling rage inside of him and he almost shouts in your face. “I know what it meant to you!”

“Really?” you voice in a shaky tone, crossing your arms across your chest in a manner that suggests you couldn’t give a single fuck about his feelings, but barely below the surface you were screaming for help. “If you got all the answers then enlighten me.” 

His voice is softer, gentler. He timidly reaches out to hold your clothed shoulders, the tips of his fingertips grip them softly, thumbs rubbing small circles. Hoping his touch could bring you back to him, bring back the angel from his dreams and coax you out from this hellish nightmare he had fallen into. 

 “Don’t act like this baby, please.” 

Your head hangs in defeat and you’re ready to give up. A sigh escapes you and he lifts your chin with a ringed finger. He licks his lips and he says the three words you couldn’t hear. 

The three small words that confirmed the anxiety in your chest and made your heart crumble. And it kills you. 

It kills you to hear the words come from the man you’ve been yearning for.

It kills you to know you won’t ever be able to say them back to him. Even though you’re dying to.

And it kills you to know you don’t deserve to hear those words from him. 

His fingers feel like talons against your shoulders and you're caught in his grasp. A hawk swooping to catch a field mouse. You can practically feel the blood pouring from your skin by his nails through the robe. The sharpness squeezing your lungs and attacking your mind. 

And like a bullet from a gun, you fire back. With hateful words and a dead tone, fire lit behind your pupils and your caged self inside of them begging to be let out. Begging to be let free and loved by Eddie. Slapping his hands away from you, you pull away from him, your back hitting the wall with a thud, the same wall you leaned on last night when he kissed you for the first time. 

The word is final. And so full of venom it feels like poison on your lips. 

“Don’t.” 

Wounded like an animal he defends himself. His slapped hands are red and stinging as he hangs them limply at his side. He shakes his head and his lips glow with how hard he’s pressing them together. 

“Tell me I don’t mean anything to you,” he yells, hurt and unable to contain his building desperate pleas to win you back, “Go ahead! Use your words Tooty. Tell me last night meant nothing to you.”  

He’s a fiend for your poisoned drug and you are his dealer, giving him what he wants, directly to his vein of choice. The veil of hatred falling in your vision and coating your stone still features. A single tear welled into your eyes. Falling the exact time you tell him words you knew weren’t at all true. 

“It meant nothing to me.” 

He chuckles in a hurt tone trying desperately to hide his own tears, a sick smirk of dismay is displayed on his quivering lips. And he’s fighting like hell to stay standing on two feet. 

“So now what? Huh?” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, hands on his hips and looking towards the popcorn ceiling, desperately blinking tears back, and once they’re hiding again he nods his head forward, one last attempt to have you break with him. To admit you were lying to yourself. 

Crossing his arms he’s trying not to shake with fury and grief. Through gritted teeth he misters up enough courage to ask you something he doesn’t wanna hear the answer to.

“Tell me what you want since you’re so big and brave. Don’t be a coward now sweetheart, tell me what you want.” 

You almost vomit on the spot. But choke it down long enough to spill the last lie from your pretty lips.

The nail in the coffin. The big finale. 

“I want… you to leave.” 

—

JANUARY 

It took three hours and all the boys from Corroded Coffin to help Eddie move his things out. He took a few days off from work to get his affairs in order. Filling out the proper paperwork to change his address back to the light blue trailer in Forest Hills for the time being. 

You weren’t home when it happened. He had made sure of it. 

When you closed your eyes at night you could still hear slam of metal connecting to metal when he slammed his van door and the crunch of ice and snow beneath his van tires as he sped away. 

You didn’t cry anymore when Metallica played on the radio. And nobody but you knew that every glass you had owned had been shattered against the front door when you came home to his empty room. 

A reality that had your eyes swollen for days. 

It took you two weeks to see the envelope on the table. A scrawl of shitty handwriting with your name on it. 

Tucked inside the pristine white envelope was more than twenty $100 bills, fresh from the bank. And a small note: 

“If you need more let me know, 

take care of yourself - Eddie 

That night you wept. Clutching onto the handmade shirt Eddie had given you, the night before the concert. The only thing remnant of him living in the house. Not counting the newer jar of pickles in the fridge, like the last— the lid was missing. 

Hot tears slid out of your eyes faster than a tub draining. A call to Robin is broken with blubbering hysterics and honking noises of your nose being blown into a wadded Kleenex, and in ten minutes time—she manages to drop everything to come and look after you. 

Countless hours slip by of her rubbing your back and even crying along with you, she swore Eddie and you were meant to be. Her words were blankets of comfort on you as she tried her best not to bring him up. 

She had promised both Steve and Eddie to not tell you where he was staying, for your own good. 

And like the kind hearted friend she was, Robin stayed for a few days. Taking off work and cooking meals for you even though you refused to eat. 

On the third day of not eating and refusing to leave your bed, she put a call in to Steve. He was hands on his hips disappointed in you. Lecturing you about how your actions hurt people and how you couldn’t be a brat forever. He threatened to dial the Wheeler’s to have Karen step in. 

But you wouldn’t budge. 

When Nancy had shown up on a Wednesday morning, she immediately went to work. Making a schedule for you to follow, and taking absolutely no bullshit when you told her you were a grown woman and could deal with things on your own. 

When she blacked out Eddie’s name from the calendar, silent tears fell down your cheeks. 

Seeing his name brought you both solace and pain. A reminder that you had done this yourself. That he wasn’t coming back. And it was because of you.

You moved with the motions of each day.

Shower 

Brushing your teeth 

Eating breakfast 

Getting ready for work 

Going to work 

Eating lunch 

Working

Driving home 

Eating supper 

Brush teeth 

Bedtime 

You sat in silence when you weren’t at work. Finding little to no enjoyment in anything anymore. Avoiding everyone’s calls. Staring at the 4 walls in your bedroom like a prison cell. Eddie’s stupid jar of pickles tucked snuggly between your crossed legs, your supper for weeks now. 

The only thing on your mind was him. He stuck with you in everything you did. He was everywhere. You even started drinking orange juice from the jug just like he did.

His laugh. The small giggly one he’d had since boyhood and the deep belly laugh he’d generate when you would roll your eyes at him, all of his teeth showing. 

His smile seemed to stretch across the Milky Way. Wide and pearly, ear to ear. His cheeks prickled with deep dimples. Somehow getting cuter with age. 

The darkest eyes full of mischief and wonderment. You could get lost in the Wonka chocolate river pooling in his eyes. Changing with his emotions like a mood ring, they gave him away.  

—

Corroded Coffin hadn’t played a gig since A Merry Corroded Christmas. Hard to play a show when the lead singer couldn’t pull it together during practices or remember to show up to them. 

Steve had stayed up with Eddie the first few nights, talking him off the edge of a violent end he didn’t see a way out of. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to forget that night. The passion was cosmic. And he knew you felt it too. Whether or not you would admit you were lying to yourself didn’t interest him. 

He was used to rejection. 

Used to feeling like he was nothing. 

What was breaking him was the ghost of you in his arms. Your sleeping body haunted his dreams, made the demons escape from hell and flood his vision. 

When he woke and you weren’t there the pain surfaced tenfold. And no amount of whiskey or Rick’s finest trees would fix it. 

The cycle never ending

He cared about you more than he cared about himself. 

The day you asked him to leave was a blur. He woke up at Gareth’s apartment a day later, no recollection of how he had gotten there. 

Your words etched into his skin like a tattoo. 

I want you to leave.

FEBRUARY

Still Loving You by Scorpions is playing on repeat between Nothing Else Matters by Metallica again in the guest house behind the lavish empty pool of Steve Harrington’s new home on Cornwalis St. 

Thirty some odd days had passed and Eddie Munson was nowhere near the man he used to be. 

Where his skin was once smooth shaven was now replaced by a prickly sparse beard. His once sparkling chocolate eyes were now dull and almost ashen. Dark circles rim his eyes from lack of sleep and poor nutrition, a diet of Marlboros, whiskey and pretzels giving him enough energy to work and come back to the same space he had called home for a few months. 

Throwing himself into working long hours at Boom’s he slept very little at night. When he did close his eyes he’d be jarred awake by a nightmare, one he hasn’t had since he was a kid. And he’d lay awake for hours replaying the same day over and over again in his mind. 

Each time ending the same way.

Shreds of notebook papers cluttered the floor, each littered with blue and black ink, all different but entirely the same subject: you.

Poems, songs, haikus and even a poorly written sonnet he had attempted while drunk at 2 AM sitting in a lounge chair he had drug out from the pool shed to sit along the edge of the frozen pool cover. 

His hair hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Leighanne offered to help comb out the tangles and mats but the burden was too much for him to handle. He denied her kindness, brushing it off with mumbled ‘m fine ’s and don’t worry ‘bout me ’s.

But in reality the thought of another woman’s hands in his hair only made the tears fall harder. 

When Eddie first moved in, Steve and Robin were still in the apartment, and Eddie’s things were moved to a storage unit across town. 

When the lease was up at the end of January, Robin moved into Vicky’s apartment over Surfer Boy Pizza and Steve purchased a house, along with an expensive diamond ring he would be anticipating on giving to an eager Leighanne, holding off until her birthday for the right time to pop the question. 

The Harrington/Buckley apartment was then subleased to Eddie. A sublease that didn’t last more than a week before he was booted out by the landlord for destruction of property when he accidentally started a fire in the kitchen. 

He was only trying to replicate your lasagna. 

Steve graciously invited Eddie to move in. and Eddie kept to himself for the most part. And on nights when sad music was blaring from the small guest house, Steve knew better than to ask if his friend wanted to play cards or kick back with a few beers. 

-T-

January came and went and close to the end of February  Josie told you she was cutting everyone’s hours, the salon would no longer be open on the weekends. The envelope Eddie had left for you was thrown into your night stand and you refused to use any of it. 

No one in town was hiring for another hairdresser so you opted to driving fifteen miles out of town to find another job. 

The job you had gotten was bartending at a rundown shithole bar worse than the Hideout. But the tips were good and your boss was sweet. A pot belly old farmer who only played country classics and served warm beer and peanuts, the shells making curved mountains on the filthy splintered wood floor.

It was refreshing to get out of Hawkins, but most importantly, it was the best chance you had at not running into someone who looked like him. 

Your body started to ache at all times, tender in places that never hurt before. Exhaustion thick on your features 

Months had passed and you hadn’t seen your friends. Nancy would call every now and then and check in. Jonathan and her were seeing a couples therapist for intimacy issues. She said Mike was hinting at proposing soon to El. 

Eddie’s shadow lingered on your skin and you swore you could feel his breath in your ear. Whispering how he loved you.

Some days were better than others, but most days you would get so worked up you would vomit from the pain. Betrayal splayed in your guts. Your mind was working against you.

His teary eyes and hurt expression were all you saw when you closed your eyes. And every night you cried yourself to sleep, cocooned into a pile of too many blankets, dreaming that Eddie was holding you tight against his chest, never leaving…never letting you go. 

MARCH

Eddie worked more than twelve hours a day, acting as two full time mechanics with how hard he was throwing himself into projects. Boom, although grateful for Eddie’s help and go-getter attitude, worried about him. Especially when he noticed the other two knot head mechanics he couldn’t afford to fire, helping themselves into his office flipping through personnel files. 

“Sean told me he makes more money than me! I was just checking to see how much more you think he’s worth! 

Aaron chuckled when Boom tossed him out of the office by his collar. 

A secret motive snug on his Copenhagen smile. The Information he was seeking: found and a reward would be granted for his loyalty to a long time friend.

…

“… alright fine, I guess pineapple is pretty good on pizza.”

“Told ya, Harrington, ” licking his lips, Eddie reached into the cardboard box and grabs another slice, the melting cheese stretching for what seemed like miles,  “I know good pizza.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, taking it easy on his friend who finally is looking like his normal self again after two months of becoming almost unrecognizable. 

The sad music didn’t play anymore. And his fingers didn’t bleed from writing songs about you. 

He was accepting what happened. Still sad, a little depressed but moving forward with his life. 

The date was approaching, Steve knew it and so did Eddie, neither wanted to talk about what he was going to do yet but Steve held his tongue for far too long. 

“so.. that Metallica concert is coming up… you still g—”

Before Steve could finish muttering, Eddie was already finishing his sentence, chewing along with his explanation. His fingers twirl the rings on his other hand. A nervous fit settling in his stomach.

“—already sold ‘em. Gonna drop the money I got for them in her mailbox tonight.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his chair, threading fingers through his coiffed hair. “So that’s it huh?” 

“So what’s it?” Eddie questioned, nonchalantly standing suddenly from the table with a scratch of the chair's legs  against the tiled floor. Throwing his paper plate and napkin away, he stops at the trash can. Doubling back he almost cracks under the scrutiny of Steve’s eyes. 

“Steve, she doesn’t wanna be with me, we’ve been over this. I fucked up, came on too strong.” 

“I’m sorry man,” Steve apologizes, a drag of his large hands down his face. “I really thought she felt the same way—,” he huffs out a breath, “fuck, we all did!”

A shake of Eddie’s curls silences Steve’s words, the whirring noise in his ears, “I’m fine man, really. I’m gonna keep doing what we said we would all those years ago.” 

Walking towards the front door and stomping louder than he should have, Eddie thrusts his arms into his leather jacket, the silk inside cozy along his faded cotton shirt. 

His keys are hanging on the little hook by the door, Steve’s decorator thinking of every detail, he lets the brass teeth dig into his palm. 

“Even if she hates me Steve,” one hand on the silver doorknob, rings clicking against it in his tight grip, he turns his head and looks into pitiful moss colored eyes, as he delivers the only truth he’s ever known, “I still love her.”

Slamming home the driver’s door to the van and turning his key into the ignition, Skid Row’s I Remember You plays gently through the speakers. Eddie hums along and pats his thumbs against the steering wheel. 

It was true he was doing better.

His hair was combed through after using copious amounts of the cheapest conditioner Melvald’s had to offer. And he didn’t need the whiskey anymore to make it through the day. 

He yearned to see your face. 

Even if it was a glare his way or a raised eyebrow at something stupid he had to say, he’d do just about anything to see it. 

Would you be smiling? 

Were you happy without him? 

He hoped you were doing well, and maybe would want to be friends again. 

Turning onto Cherry Lane is pure nostalgia. It had only been a few months but everything looked the same. He felt different and maybe expected everything else to change along with him. 

And there it was. Your house. 

The house he had lived in, learned life skills he should have learned years ago, and most importantly shared the deepest love he’d ever felt with someone in his life.  

The windows were dark, except for a small light in the kitchen, a candle he assumed. The smell of vanilla warmed his nose as he thought of the familiar scent you had kept burning.

The driveway held your car and another he didn’t recognize. By first glance he thought maybe it could be Nancy. But she had just brought her old station wagon into Boom’s last week for a tire rotation. 

The license plates on the fancy BMW were not from Hawkins, housing the wrong number for the county on the Indiana plates. 

His ears heated with jealousy. Throat closing tight trying to hide a choked sob. 

How could you have moved on from him so quickly? The thought of you hooking up with someone while he was practically a dead man walking made him weak in the knees.

A punch to the gut. He had never felt so low in all of his life.

He couldn’t help himself when he jumped out of the van. Foregoing slamming the door. Stomping on cold concrete with shaky legs all the way to the front door. He fumed as he blinked back tears. 

He was prepared to make an ass out of himself. He’d announce himself the same way he had when he opened the door the day he has moved in all those months ago. 

A loud boisterous, HONEY, I’M HOME 

With knuckles raised and his heart hammering in his chest like a bee trapped in a tin can, he was ready to knock. 

Ready to see your shocked face with some faceless guy probably with a better job and stupid suits when Eddie’s wild hair and goofy grin was on the other side of the door. 

But he is stopped short when a muffled shrill scream vibrates off the walls and finds his ears.

see you in volume 12

🐑 (sacrificial for readmore)

[medlilove]

Please click for Full Res!

AVES 'Rook' LAIDIR 28 at start of game. Mage Dagger - Fire/Necromancy later. 5’3”

Born on the edge Dairsmund, the capital city of Rivain. Her father was from an upper middle class merchant family. He was unusual in his business that he would regularly trade and do business with neighbouring Dalish Clans. Though his prices were always higher for them, not that they were aware. 

In his early adult life he had an affair with an Elf from a neighbouring clan. When she became pregnant he convinced her to leave her life behind and be his wife in the city. Swept up in the romance she agreed and left her clan. However, after the dust settled he pushed away and his family pressured him to distance himself from them for the sake of the family business. 

He did, but at the same time would keep her wrapped around his little finger. He would say over and over that it wasn’t the right time and to be patient, using her ignorance of the society they were in to his advantage. He hid her away in their home and she developed a deep depression and loneliness. He convinced her that it was safer for her and the baby to live as a servant, but it was more to protect his own business and reputation. Aves grew up half in the servant's world and half not.

Her mother lived with terrible guilt and regret, believing her clan would never take her back but at the same time, for years she still held out hope that he would bring her into his family for real. This was held up by the fact that he would regularly come to spend time with them and when alone he would shower her in affection, but around others, act like he hardly knew her. 

After six years she succumbed to her depression, Aves found her in their bedroom in the servant quarters. In a rare show of kindness (or obligation) her father formally adopted her into the main family, but made her swear to never speak of her mothers heritage, convincing her that doing so would destroy her fathers business and result in them losing everything. She developed a complex about it mixing it with misunderstanding the shame her mother felt about her life with shame of her own heritage. She never even knew the name of her mothers clan, her mother would never speak about herself.  

Three months after her mother died, her father married a woman Aves had never met. Her father and step mother ended up having 5 more children. She was the black sheep of the family and was shown occasional affection from her father, and was barely acknowledged at all by his wife. Her father looked at her like a burden and her step mother wouldn't look at her at all. 

Her magic came in at 12 during a heated argument, in the form of a circle of spitting fire that shot out like fireworks. Her father had a distant cousin who was a mage who agreed to take her on as a pupil, she went to Ayesleigh to live with him. She learnt the basics, but found him unsettling, after two years she had had enough and ran away. 

She bounced around the next few years living on the beach and meeting fellow vagabonds. Learning magic and life skills informally from wanderers and beatniks. 

She eventually ended up travelling up and down the coast with an acrobatic troupe who would go town to town doing risky and elaborate performances for onlookers. It was run by a hard edged money hungry, yet extremely charismatic man who barely paid them at all, they would often perform for ‘room and board’.  

She met the most extraordinary people being part of that travelling show, eccentric, creative, different. They taught her how to be the best version of herself, kind, empathetic and strong. She performed the high rope with 3 others, all elves, and learnt to control her magic from an old Qunari woman who tended the animals. Aves would take her second name with her when she left. ‘Laidir’. 

Though it wasn’t all fun and games, they were expected to perform twice a day 6 days a week, often travelling at night and rehearsing on the 7th day. Additionally each performer was pressured into getting facial scarification to mark them as members of the company, one mark for every year. She got all her arms and legs tattooed by a dwarf who would perform as a ‘strong man’ who was so heavily tattooed and had such a long beard you could barely see two inches of free skin. 

The show eventually fizzled out and closed down, and most went their separate ways.

One day, she got caught pickpocketing a woman who turned out to be Isabella. Isabella was so impressed that Aves had managed to get so close that she offered her an opportunity to join the Lords of Fortune.

Meme that represents her the best:

[sereinreality]

making a luis lives au and having it lead up to re6 so i just want to write down my ideas so far

- ada saves him without a shadow of a doubt. somehow, someway, she gets him off the island and takes him to a hospital to heal while she spends those next couple of months making plans. when luis is properly healed, she would offer one of two options; either work with her or she’ll leave him some things but they have to keep little to no contact. luis obviously goes for the first choice.

- they definitely bond over the course of time they work together from re5 to re6. i like to think their similar backgrounds, history, and goals bring them closer together. luis would always try to find a reason to throw festivities, he’s very insistent on celebrating ada’s birthday or any holiday.

- luis’s nickname for ada is “mariposa” she rolls her eyes every time he says it but she genuinely loves it

- they do a lot of moving around which means time to kill and lots of stories. luis likes to play a game where he tells a story and ada has to guess wether it actually happened or he just made it up. most of the time he’s lying but argues “you never know! maybe someday it will be true!” it makes ada smile. luis tries to make her smile as often as he can.

- luis didn’t change in terms of making jokes. he figures there’s no point in falling to despair when you’ve been given your last chance so he makes the most of it. it annoyed ada at first, thinking that luis wasn’t taking this seriously but upon closer inspection, she realized he’s grown way more cautious than before. she excused some of the teasing after that but never backed down from some back and forth

- ada and luis are like soulmates in the way that they are two sides of the same coin. where there’s one, you’ll find the other. they are connected by coincidence but they treasure it. more than anything, it’s a deep understanding between them. everything they did to survive, to get out of their respective situations, the choices they made, and the loneliness they felt. luis swears that as long as he lives, ada will never feel alone again. ada says likewise. both of them mean it with their whole heart.

- under NO circumstances can leon learn that luis survived. it’s a depressing truth they both understand that if leon got the smallest hint of luis’s survival that he would begin a manhunt to find him. they have too much work being carried out that cannot be compromised. that doesn’t stop luis from searching for leon’s name in government files or papers, he keeps up to date with anything where he’s involved. what can he say? the knight misses his prince.

- that being said leon does not handle post valdelobos very well. he still has luis’s lab key which he keeps in a box tucked away somewhere. sometimes the smell of smoke brings him back to spain and the mines where he lost someone he’s grown so close to in just a small amount of time. it shouldn’t break him as much as it does but it’s something that stays in the back of his mind. leon feels like he missed something. that there was an opportunity open to him that he failed to see, it could have been something but now he’ll never know. the door shut in his face just when leon realized what was being offered to him.

- once he saw don quixote displayed on a bookstore window with a lovely red cover and bought it immediately. it sits on his shelf collecting dust, leon hasn’t had time to read it or so he says.

- the trio do reunite in re6 but more importantly, luis catches wind of some of the stunts leon had been pulling and their first interaction after years was luis marching up to leon as he backs into a wall. luis is shouting in spanish, probably complaining about leon not prioritizing his own safety, then switching to english so he can yell in a language leon understands. it was here that he catches leon’s face. he’s so much older now, worn out like leather. leon looked exhausted but he also seemed so amazed? confused? whatever it was, he looked softer now and his eyes widen a little. he simply says, “you’re alive?”

[simp2537]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

A/n: Timeskip for like two years later. We get Auntie Nemuri(Midnight)!!! Protective dadzawa😁😁. Series triggers bellow.

Word Count: 1,451 words

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Blood, Horror, Cursing, Child Abuse, Human experiments, Child abandonment, Angst, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Insomnia, etc

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊

Aizawa walked towards the training ground of U.A as Nezu rode along in his scarf. Nezu went on and on about Y/n file but Aizawa didn’t really paid attention. As the pair made it to the grounds they saw Y/n sitting in the ground, eyes shut and mediating. 

Strangely colored mushrooms and flowers flowed all around her. Her hair was tied up in a loose style. Most likely done by Nemuri who watched her while grading some papers.

“Extraordinary isn’t she.” Nezu mumbled softly. The principal watched her with such intrigue. 

“Yeah, she is.” Aizawa answered as Nezu climbed down.

“Her quirk is one of the most versatile quirks I’ve ever seen. She can do some many different things.” Nezu said while hold up Y/n’s file up to Aizawa. Aizawa gently took the file and read it carefully.

Subject 108 

WonderCorps

Subject 108 shows great signs of strength, power and agility. She has withstood many of our expectations and experiments. The only issues that we’ve run in his her determination to protect the other experiments. She’s given five of them names. She won’t let the other doctors near them and uses her abilities to protect them. Her abilities grow stronger as she does. Yesterday I placed her in the glass room with three other experiments and they didn’t stand a chance. She turned them into dust within a few minutes. If she continues to progress like this we will have our Alice in no time. 

~ signed Doctor Glass

Aizawa closed her file from the WonderCorps and watched as Y/n shot up. She was showing Nemuri a colorful flower. Nezu took the file back and tucked it under his arm. 

“Did you find the missing files yet?” Aizawa asked and Nemuri began to bring Y/n over to them. Nezu shook his head.

“No, the five file after Y/n’s are still missing. We’ve checked the whole facility. Most things were burnt up. We took all the evidence and I have all the video tapes in my office.” Nezu said. Y/n looked over at him and shot her body forward. 

“DOOR MOUSE!” Y/n yelled as she ran forward. Right before she was going to crash into Nezu and give him a big hug she stopped. Instead she crashed into Aizawas legs and he was pushed back a little. 

Aizawa hugged onto his daughter as she held a big smile on her face. 

“DAD! DAD! LOOK LOOK!” Y/n shouted while jumping up and down a little. She held out her and and the air in her palms began to warp and glow with all colors of the rainbow. A orange and pink flower with a bright yellow stem appeared. Y/n held it out for Aizawa to take.

Aizawa took the colorful flower with a small smile. He places the flower in his pocket as Y/n made another one for Nezu. 

“Why thank you N/n.” Nezu said as he held onto his flower. 

“You’re welcome Door Mous- I mean Nezu.” Y/n smiled as she corrected herself. Aizawa combed his hand through her daughter hair gently as Nemuri stood next to him. Nemuri sent him a small look and Aizawa nodes his head.

Nezu took Y/n towards the office. Y/n held a big smile as she pounced up and down. 

“Are we going to go for tea?” Y/n asked as her light blue dress pounced up and down. Nezu nodded as he lead her away. Aizawa turned to Nemuri with a confused look.

“What is it Midnight?” Aizawa asked.

Nemuri turned to him with a slight glare.

“Aizawa you know what I’m about to say.” Nemuri said.

“No Midnight, it’s way too soon for that.” Aizawa insisted.

“Aizawa, she needs to interact with kids her age.” Nemuri explained while crossing her arms. Aizawa shook his head with a slight glare. 

“Absolutely not! Midnight she’s not ready for that yet. We’ve only had her for two years, she still loses control and what if something happened?” 

Midnight sighed softly and looked back Aizawa. She kept her arms crossed as she stared at him.

“Aizawa she’s made lots of improvements since we saved her. You need to socialize her with other kids.” Midnight argued.

“Midnight there’s still so much we don’t know about Y/n, about her powers. We still haven’t learned everything. Plus there are still times where she doesn’t show or process her emotions and feeling correctly” Aizawa said.

Midnight groaned in frustration. Aizawa wasn’t listening to what she was saying. She wasn’t asking him to put her in school. She was just asking to have her meet kids her age.

“I’m not saying put her school, I’m saying she needs friends.” Midnight hissed.

Aizawa groaned and rubbbed his eyes. He was too tired for this. Sure he knew eventually Y/n would need friend her age but this was too soon. Yes Y/n had come a long way from that kid in a hospital but they didn’t know what things could set her emotions off.

Maybe Midnight was right. Maybe Y/n did need to meet some kids her own age. Aizawa sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay.”

“O-okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see what I can do.” 

Midnight stared at Aizawa’s back as her began to walk away. Midnight stood frozen for a moment.

“Wait! Aizawa what do you mean okay?” Midnight shrieked from the grounds. 

“I mean I’ll find her a friend.” Aizawa shouted back. 

As her turned his back to her again and rubbed his face. As he walked towards Nezu’s office he thought to himself. How could he give his daughter a friend without endangering another child. As Aizawa opened the door to Nezu’s office Y/n sat drinking her tea softly.

Nezu placed his phone down and picked up his tea cup. Nezu motioned to the empty chair and began to pour some tea for Aizawa. Before Aizawa could add and sugar the sugar pot began to float. The spoon picked up some sugar and placed it into his tea.

Multiple colors surround the tea cup and spoon as Y/n used her quirk to mix in the sugar. Aizawa watched his daughter carefully. She held her tongue out a little and had her eyes closed. 

When the sugar had been mixed in properly Y/n floated the tea cup towards her dad. Aizawa sent her a small smile as he took the tea cup. Y/n smiled brightly as she went back to her own tea.

“How did your conversation with Midnight go?” Nezu questioned as he sipped his tea. Aizawa snuck a quick glance at Y/n and saw she was occupied with floating the tea cups.

“Midnight wants to socialize Y/n with kids her own age.” Aizawa grumbled as he took a small sip. His face turned unpleasant, Y/n had out too much sugar.

“That girls sweet tooth is something else.” Aizawa mumbles softly. 

“Oh yes, Midnight did mention that to me.” Nezu said. Aizawa turned to Nezu with a tired look.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” Aizawa groaned. Nezu sent him a small smile as he looked over at Y/n. Colorful butterflies flew around her and landed in her hair. The butterflies became small clips in her hair. 

Aizawa smiles softly at her as a small mouse appears in her lap. The mouse is dressed in old Victoria clothes. The mouse his a light brown color with pink ears and nose. Y/n talks softly with the Door Mouse. 

Aizawa still doesn’t completely understand how this creatures or as Y/n makes him call the her friends appear. No one really knows where they come from.

“I thought you’d agree, Y/n needs friends that her age and need to socialize.” Nezu replied softly. Aizawa rested his elbows on Nezu’s desk. 

“Who was that you were in the phone with?” Aizawa questions trying to change the subject.

“Endeavor, he was inquiring about Y/n.” Nezu sipped his tea as Y/n handed him a beautifully draw landscape. It was filled with different sized and differently colored mushrooms. A purple checked path on the ground lead to a large green castle.

“What? Why?” Aizawa asked as his head shot up. Endeavor wasn’t really fond of Y/n like the others were. When she was rescued Y/n didn’t seem to like Endeavor.

“He didn’t say, he was just asking about her improvement.” Nezu say as her hung up the landscape next to the many other drawings Y/n had given him. 

Aizawa looked down at Y/n as she drew and talking her her mouse friend. An idea popped into Aizawa’s head.

“Nezu, Endeavor has a son around Y/n’s age right?” Aizawa asked shooting Y/n a small glance.

“I believe so? Why?” 

“I think I just found a friend for Y/n.”

[dreamwatch]

Fave Five Fics

Thank you to @tinytalkingtina for the tag!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

This is so bloody hard, I cannot lie. I'll definitely disagree with myself the moment I press 'post.'

In no particular order:

Seven Deadly Sins - Okay, look, straight out of the gate I'm going to cheat, and I'm really sorry for it, but hear me out... These are seven very short stories, 1313 words or less, and none of them are connected but thematically they just fit each other I think. This was for the Corroded Coffin Fest Halloween event and I took the theme and ran dark and I am so proud of these. Most of them are pretty niche, but I really think of the collection as one and I would never be able to split them. We have everything from soul selling to drunk driving via ghostly apparitions and long meat (not a joke). They've given me a drive to lean more into my horror/dark side, so 2025, look out!

California I'm Coming Home - a 'quick drabble' that grew legs real fast! Eddie makes it big and buys Wayne a nice house in California. I have a tendancy to write fics that span many years even when I'm trying to work to tight word counts, I drop into a moment and out again and on to the next period. This is one of the ones where I think that was most successful. And I just adore Wayne and Eddie together, I love writing for them.

Only the Horses Can Bring Us Back Home - I do wonder sometimes if the tag 'Horse Girl Eddie' did me more harm than good with this. 😂 Post S4, short recovery fic about Eddie going to a therapist and her suggesting equine therapy to him. I don't ride, I know nothing about horses other than they're big and they're cute so I have no idea where this came from. It's one of the first things I wrote and it holds a special place in my heart.

Echoes and Silence, Patience and Grace - Written for Corroded Coffin Fest. Sometimes its the vibe of the fic that carries me, and thats probably why I love this so much. This was one sitting, done and dusted in about an hour, and it all sprung from that first line that came from nowehere. I love a hint of melancholy in a fic. It's minor rockstar Eddie in his forties making his yearly visit back to Hawkins. A lot of reminising because I'm of an age where I do that, so that means my characters do it too.

Disenchanted Lullaby - Again, written for Corroded Coffin Fest. Another one that is all about the vibes; musician Eddie coming home after a short tour. I was reading some articles about how touring musicians often get depressed when they come home, how slipping back into a normal life and routine is so hard. If I could I would probably re-write this a little, but as it stands I'm really proud of it.

Honourable mention:

Know When To Hold 'em - Corroded Coffin fans sing Wayne's favourite song every time he's in the house. And one time he isn't. Angsty and self indulgent because why not?

Oki doki, no pressure tags - but also, I'm invested in your answers! 😂

@hbyrde36 @thisapplepielife @cchapsticck @the-unforgivenn @occasionaloverboy @jo-harrington @vthx @soaringornithopter @devondespresso @scriptorbemi

[airandyeah]

Sweater Weather (Depressed!Gojo X Reader) Pt.5

The spotify playlist is here (Currently playing: Fire on Fire; Sam Smith) (Not adding lyrics to the text so I can write more) Series masterlist My masterlist

The warm breath on your neck brings you back to your senses as you push Gojo away, grabbing your purse in walking fast-paced back to you car. He ran after you, you could hear his shoes as he ran, the splashing of puddles from the days earlier rain. As you continued to walk away you stared at the ground beneath you, the colors and reflections of nearby lights and colors making you come further into your senses. You just kissed... Gojo Satoru. The man you swore to yourself when you were a teenager, that you would never love. The man you swore was a horrible influence and told him to leave you alone. The same man that became your friend and weaseled his way into your heart so many years later. Your steps came to a halt and you turned to look at him. His cheeks dusted pink and his breath slightly labored, the action of coming for you wasn't enough to make *the* Gojo Satoru breathless, but your kisses left him a hot and flustered mess. "What the hell was that Satoru?!", you hiss and he stares into your eyes before lowering his gaze to his feet. "I-I don't know", He admitted, his voice uneven, unsure. "I've never just... Done that before....", he rasped out. In truth, he never cared much for any woman or man who chose to flirt or become close with him so he never had such a sudden compulsion to just... Kiss someone. "You- You're such an idiot Gojo Satoru!", you yell at him now, and he flinches. You step closer to him and grab his face. "Look at me.". You tell him. His blue eyes met yours. Those eyes, those deep, sparkly blues that seemed to hold hopes, wishes, and dreams in them, now hold tears. You blink a few times, wondering if he is really teary eyed, and he is. "Explain what happened back there.", you said, not giving in to the display of tears. "I just... you... you are...".. He stumbles over and searches for words and after a moment of gathering his thoughts, he stares so deep into your eyes you figure he must be looking into your soul. You feel so seen, so exposed just from him staring right back at you. "You're... perfection." He finally speaks and you stare, stunned. "Gojo we can't-", you begin but he cuts you off "When we fight, we fight like lions, but we can love too. Can't we? We are human aren't we? The jujutsu world has already taken so damn much away from us, can't we have each other? Can't we love? Can't we?!", his words come out passionate but frustrated. "I-I don't know..." Your words trail, you weren't ready for... whatever this was from Satoru. "Go home, Satoru.", you tell him, tired and wanting to first get some rest and full sobriety in before even processing what the hell to say or do next. "But I just-", "No, Toru. Go home. We can... talk later. I need time to think. Okay?", you cut him off now and he slumps slightly before nodding. "I can... get another kiss first right?" He looks like a kicked puppy as he asks and you give him a sweet peck before getting into your car. Shit.

Taglist: @kiel-luvsripples , @asahinasstuff

[hanaotaku95]

Hazbin Hotel: Self care edition

So I’ve been obsessing over Hazbin Hotel for a hot minute now and the first thing that really comes to mind for context is self care.

To elaborate, I mean the fact that these characters often have animalistic features as part of their designs. Well, imagine them having to maintain the care of said features?

1) Hooves

To start us off, l want to bring attention to the fact that both Alastor and Charlie have hooves. Yup, both are hidden pretty well, but they are there.

If anyone has ever been around farm animals like cows and horses, you’ll know that hoof care is extremely important for the health of the animals. So why not apply this to Charlie and Alastor.

Imagine them having hoof care kits and Charlie wants to take the opportunity to bond with Alastor more so this is basically like having a nail care day at a salon!

2) Wings

Next are wings and we have three winged characters in the Hotel: Lucifer, Vaggie and Husk. Wing care must be extremely important for them to be able to fly well.

Starting with Lucifer, it’s important to note that the man has Depression and has Dissociative periods where he can’t pay attention for the life of him. So it’s unfortunately easy to imagine that he would often forget to preen his wings.

Well, after moving into the Hotel, I can see Charlie taking this opportunity to strengthen her bond with her dad by doing something that she has always wanted to do. She loves her dad’s wings and ends up helping him preen while they talk about anything and everything.

Next is Vaggie and it would be a similar premise with Charlie wanting to bond more with her girlfriend and reforge their relationship. Yes, she is hurt that Vaggie wasn’t truthful but she still loves her.

Also, apparently, Vaggie and Charlie have been together for around 3 years or so, meaning Vaggie likely hadn’t taken out her wings at all until the battle. So she is way behind on taking care of them. Charlie uses her experience with her father’s wings to assist here and the women can talk.

Finally, Husk and honestly this could be a Huskerdust moment with Angel helping an all too tired Husk preen his wings and make sure they’re healthy and in flying shape.

3) Fur

Both Angel and Husk have fur, which means fur brushing!

Angel looks like he is the king of hair care, maintaining short and soft fur and making sure to remove any mats, knots or shed fur.

Husk has a bit more to get through with his, as he has relatively long fur. Like with his wings, I can see Angel helping Husk brush out his fur and remove any clumps, loose fur and knots. It would be a good Huskerdust moment!

4) Ears

Finally, we have ears and both Husk and Alastor have them.

This is one both boys want to take care of by themselves. Ear care is important for all animals and in people with such large ears, it’s easy for either of them to collect dust and other stuff, meaning wax build up. So in the privacy of their rooms, they dedicate part of their time to cleaning out their ears and maybe even applying ear drops for extra health benefits.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 11: Birthday Blues

Chapter Word Count: 3,708

TW

Depression, Talks of some trauma responses (more rituals than anything), talks of feeling numb, crying, etc. Vague trauma talk This is just sad for a bit lmao.

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Since getting the job with the government, you’ve taken the same week off in the middle of July, the days always surrounding the fifteenth. You’ve always put it in as your vacation time but it never was what everyone called a vacation.

The fifteenth of July was your birthday, it was a date you disliked and haven’t celebrated since you were young. You had no love for turning a year older, you didn’t tell anyone it was your birthday because you didn’t want to bother about it. It was a time where you added another number to your age and moved on with your life, sort of…

It was the day not six years ago you were thrown out on the streets and told to fend for yourself. It was a day that no one around you at that time bothered to care about. There wasn’t anything to celebrate. 

Each day had a specific thing that was done, it became a routine since living on your own. Probably unhealthy if anyone was to know the truth, not that you cared about their opinions. 

The first day you turned off your phone and cleaned your entire apartment top to bottom. It wasn’t just dusting and putting things in their proper places in reality. You woke up early and took everything off your shelves, out of drawers, off the counter, and cleaned everything down. You usually got rid of things that no longer were needed, needed replacing, or clothes that didn’t fit. It was an all day affair and it always helped alleviate some of the unwanted feelings you were having. Feeling clean and refreshed was always a good way to air your home and your thoughts. 

The second and third day was for going out and handling any business needing to be done; paying bills, food shopping, stuff like that. It was a lot of running around, even more when you first left the house to bring all your usable items to a donation center, having to carry a few bags through the subway. You had enough money in your budget to get your nails done, something you didn’t do often but it was your birthday after all… 

The fourth day was your actual birthday. You spent the day making cookies from your childhood and your grandma’s chicken pot pie, a recipe you had ingrained in your head when she taught you as a child. You had taken the recipe before leaving your first home and it’s been in a safe place ever since. No birthday felt the same without it, it was one of the first core memories you had, sitting at the kitchen table with a large single serving of the warm dish that you always burned your mouth on whenever you ate it. 

You ate in silence, phone still off and staring at the walls of your apartment. Most of the lights were off and you were eating in relative darkness, alone. Your limbs felt numb like dead weight at your sides. Each bite of the delicious food had you taking breaths to soothe yourself. Tears were welling up in the corner of your eyes, you choked down one more bite before they were streaming down your cheeks. 

You didn’t make a sound, sobbing soundlessly aside from your shuttered breathing. You’d think that over the years you would stop the same routine to overcome the issues regarding the day. Truthfully you tried last year, but you couldn’t bear not going through the motions. It was a ritual that calmed you once it was over and you could move on with the rest of the year until the next time. It wasn’t a healthy thing to do, you knew that, yet no one could stop you as you sat alone in your apartment. 

The tears didn’t stop when you cleaned the dishes or curled up in bed, falling asleep early from the busy day you had in the kitchen. Emotions were high yet you felt so low. Sleep had consumed you easily.

The last few days were spent sleeping, drinking, and watching whatever show you found entertaining that time. You had made a comfy little nest on your couch with blankets and pillows and let yourself fall asleep and come to as your body pleased. You had to collect yourself before work on Monday and this was the only way you knew best. When you had gone out to the grocery store, you got plenty of frozen food to last your depressive days, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to make anything else. 

On the last day, you turned on your phone and your heart melted. Handful of missed calls and messages came in while it was off, many on the day of your birthday from a variety of numbers.

Seokmin and Soonyoung sent many messages wishing you happy birthday, asking how your vacation was, and that they needed to have a celebration whenever you got back. Minghao, Junhui, and Chan sent their own messages, Chan’s embellished with emojis and gifs. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Mingyu sent a video wishing you a happy birthday with Seokmin and Soonyoung cheering in the background. Jihoon gave a ‘HBD’ and a thumbs up emoji, you couldn’t help but laugh at that one. Joshua gave a simple text along with Seungcheol. Jeonghan sent you a sweet happy birthday message and was in agreement with most of the rest to celebrate when you came back. 

What left you a bit floored was the message from Wonwoo. 

‘ I didn’t tell anyone you weren’t on vacation. They kept asking if I knew where you were staying for your trip and you can’t really hide that you were at home based on your credit card history. Don’t celebrate alone next time. Happy birthday. -WW’

You placed your phone down and trembled, letting a wave of sadness wash over your body. Openly sobbing unlike the few days prior, you pushed your face into a pillow and curled in on yourself. There was a new feeling settling in your chest, it was warm and light but it was nestled in with sadness. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. You felt loved and important. 

You didn’t want those feelings to go away. 

Seokmin was insistent that you come to the house because Soonyoung and Mingyu wanted to show you how to fight. It was the Saturday after your week-long self-pity bender. The Monday back had you bombarded with questions from coworkers and Seokmin pestering you regarding your time away. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a lie, Wonwoo was nice enough to keep it all a secret for now which you greatly appreciated. You had agreed with yourself that you wanted to thank Wonwoo at one point and spend time with people you enjoyed being around. 

Pulling up to the house, Seokmin parked in front for the first time since bringing you here. When you questioned it, he said something about Seungcheol fixing up a car in there and needing the space. Other cars were parked outside, even Jihoon’s signature red Lambo. 

“Let’s get inside, Mingyu and Soonyoung are probably bouncing off the walls waiting for you to show up.” 

“I swear they are like puppies that don’t know personal space.” You laughed. “Soonyoung is constantly texting me and asking what I’m up to and Mingyu asks for all the food I like and if I know certain recipes.” 

“Trust me, Honey, they haven’t changed from that in years.” 

Stepping out of the car, Seokmin hurried to your side. He took your hand and walked you to the front door, a little hop to his step the closer the two of you got. You didn’t think anything of it, he regularly had too much extra energy to burn, always a bundle of energy like Soonyoung and Mingyu. He reached out to open the door and was practically vibrating . You followed behind, ready to call out for Soonyoung and Mingyu when a chorus of yelling was heard and the popping of small handheld confetti cannons followed along. 

“Happy belated birthday!” 

You were stunned, frozen in place at the open doorway, seeing all the little streamers hung up, the balloons littering the living room floor, and the smiles spread on each of their faces as they stared at you. Before you could get a word out, tears were pooling in your eyes and one blink had them running down your face. 

Letting Seokmin’s hand go, you tried to wipe the tears away quickly. Some concern came but you started to laugh, letting out a groan in frustration from the tears unable to stop. A smile spread on your lips and you pulled the closest few into a big hug. Seokmin had held you so tightly and Seungkwan, the other you got ahold of, squeezed the life out of you as well. That same warm, gooey feeling of importance and love spread through your body. 

As a hand rubbed your back to bring some comfort, you pulled back from the two and pouted, struggling to catch your breath but still smiling. The tears wouldn’t stop, a few of them were laughing and pulling you further into the living room to close the door. Mingyu was talking rapidly about the food he made for today, excited for you to try it, and Joshua was boasting about some dessert he bought for after dinner. 

Jeonghan had moved closer, raising his sleeve covered hands and gently wiped away any shed tears, smiling so softly. “Little Mouse…Why are you crying?” 

“I-” You stuttered, letting him hold your face in both hands, “I wasn’t expecting any of this-” Taking a deep breath in, you sniffled, “I haven’t had people to celebrate my birthday with in a really long time.” 

“What?!” Mingyu gasped, nearly pushing Jeonghan out of the way, large eyes wide and sparkling. “Did you not do anything last week on vacation?” 

Shaking your head quickly, you brushed off his concern and Jeonghan’s hands fell to your shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “Well, Mouse, let’s make sure you have a blast today.” He winked. 

It didn’t take long for you to be dragged to and fro. Mingyu was insistent you try his food first, Seungkwan wanted you to show him how to flip someone over your shoulder like you did all that time ago, and Soonyoung really wanted to start drinking already. Seungcheol had made a comment to wait until everyone began to eat before drinking, seemingly knowing how they all really got when the alcohol was flowing. 

Your cheeks were starting to hurt with how much you were smiling. It had been way too long since you were smiling this much for so long. The tears stopped somewhere between the chaos but your eyes were red with a bit of puff to them. 

Wonwoo was aimlessly hanging around the kitchen, listening to any direction Mingyu or Joshua was giving. You were finally able to get a moment of breathing room and stepped towards him, looking around for any prying ears before nudging him with an elbow. He side-eyed you, raising an eyebrow but went back to his work on an appetizer board Mingyu wanted done. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, staring out to the group, seeing them talking and messing around.

He shrugged, adjusting his glasses and cleared his throat. “They’d break down your door if I told them the truth.” 

“Still, thank you, I know you aren’t my biggest fan but I appreciate it.” 

For the first time, you saw a smile crack on his features. Without another word, you moved away and were tucked into Seokmin’s hold when you rejoined the majority of them. He held you to his chest, rocking with you side to side. Everyone seemed on some level of contentment and you were happy.

When the drinking started, it was all over for you. Wonwoo's lips were getting looser and he wasn’t holding anything back. You were curled up on the couch between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, hiding your face in a pillow with one hand while the other held your fourth glass of whiskey on the rocks. If he wasn’t holding a full glass of beer, you’d throw the cushion at him. 

“It was just after Thanksgiving break when the biggest frat house on campus was throwing a party.” You gave a sound of complaint at his words but he never stopped. “I showed up with some buddies later in the night and Mouse was having the time of her life. I heard she won three rounds of beer pong-” 

“Four rounds, don’t discredit me if you are going to make fun of me!” 

“- Four rounds of beer pong and down victory shots, a lot of shots.” 

You laughed at the memory, pulling the pillow to rest it on your lap where Soonyoung rather quickly placed his head. Your fingers carded through his hair, watching him get more comfortable in his lying position. 

“To be fair, I had a lot of water too, but even more alcohol that night.” 

“When I showed up, she was blasted and doing body shots off another girl from a year higher than us.” Wonwoo laughed and you downed your whiskey, holding your glass out to Mingyu to pour you more.  Seokmin gave an ‘ Ohh~’ after hearing what Wonwoo said.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like watching.” You teased but he gave you a deadpanned look, rolling his eyes.

“Then she was spouting off about party games and somehow my friends got me involved with it all. It was boring after that.” 

You clicked your tongue and with another full glass, you smirked, leveling Wonwoo with a look. “Boring? I don’t think that game was boring. If I remember correctly, you enjoyed it.” 

“X to doubt.” He replied coolly and you were spurred on even more. 

“Ah~ Wonwoo…” You shook your head, looking at everyone, each in different levels of intoxication. 

The probably most sober one here was Jihoon, he had one shot then tapped out, not wanting to do too much. Joshua, Minghao, and Junhui were flushed red from the alcohol, but were composed enough to pay attention. Minghao was holding back a laugh at the banter between you and Wonwoo. Soonyoung was two seconds from falling asleep with his head in your lap, a lightweight compared to everyone here.. Seungcheol was comfortable on an armchair, enjoying the same whiskey you were partaking in. Seokmin and the youngest three were tucked in beside one another, half asleep. Mingyu was at the end of the couch you were on, lying his head on the armrest. 

Beside you, Jeonghan was a little pink but not overly so, he had brought a blanket earlier and tossed it over your lap and his own. He had been sitting beside you a majority of the night, teasing or just talking to you, it was nice and you were alright being a little personal heater since he seemed cold, sitting right up against you. 

“What he’s forgetting to mention is when he spun the bottle, it landed on me.” 

Minghao started to laugh as quietly as he could to himself, turning to hide behind Joshua was best he could. Wonwoo again rolled his eyes. 

“And he had to kiss me.” 

The few that were still listening started to rumble with laughter, little comments coming under breath.

“Worst kiss of my life.” Wonwoo gave a minimal fake gag and downed the rest of his beer. 

You leveled him with a stare, eyeing him from head to toe where he sat across from you on the other couch. “Mmm, keep telling yourself that.” 

The rest of the night went by easily. More drinks were shared to the ones who wanted to down more, and sleep found others in whatever position they were in. Soonyoung was dead to the world with his head on the pillow in your lap. Jihoon had disappeared a while ago, saying goodnight to the group and hasn’t been seen since. Minghao had said his goodnights and slipped away down the hall. Junhui and Joshua were knocked out against each other. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan were woken up by Seungcheol and sent off to their rooms for a proper night's rest, each giving a hug to you as they shuffled out of the room. When Wonwoo was ready to knock out he got Mingyu up and helped the larger man to his room. You saw Wonwoo come back and head down to Pandora. 

Seungcheol took his time getting Joshua and Junhui awake, knowing how uncomfortable it could be sleeping like they were, and got them to head to bed. Gently you shook Soonyoung and he was reluctant to get up with the help of Seungcheol who also wished you a goodnight before dragging the younger man down the hall to his room. 

All that was left was you and Jeonghan, sitting comfortably side by side. You were smiling, leaning your head back against the back of the couch, letting the calm of the night take over. The alcohol was helping lull you into the sleepiness you felt. 

“Mouse,” Jeonghan murmured your name, “Can I give you your birthday gift?” 

A gift? He didn’t need to get you anything-

Turning your head to face him, you were confused. He was mirroring your position, head leaning back on the couch but he was admiring you with soft, tired eyes. 

“Before you say that I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” Willing himself to stand up, he draped his side of the blanket over you and shuffled to the TV stand, pulled out one of the drawers and retrieved a rectangle, velvet box. “I wanted to give you something that will go along with the dress to the gala.” 

Sitting back down, Jeonghan placed the box in his lap, running his finger over the soft material of the case. “And before you ask, I didn’t steal it or anything, I bought it with my own money from a jewelry store if you want to see the receipt.” 

You shook your head, sitting up straight and shifting to face him. “No- I wasn’t going to ask that.” It broke your heart that he even thought you’d think that. 

“Here.” He quickly placed it in your lap, keeping his eyes down casted. 

Taking the box in your hands, you peeked up towards Jeonghan who kept his eyes on the jewelry case, waiting for it to be opened. Slowly, you opened the case and your jaw dropped.

Though the lights in the living room were dimmed earlier in the evening, the light reflected beautifully against diamonds and sapphire. The majority of the necklace ‘chain’ was pear-cut diamonds, the top row housing small oval sapphires with single, same cut diamonds between them. The second row was the teardrop shaped diamonds and a larger, oval cut sapphire that would rest against your sternum when worn.

Shaking your head slightly, you were taken back by such a beautiful piece of jewelry. Honestly, you were scared to even touch it with how expensive it probably was. Opening your mouth to speak, all that left you was a dumbfounded sigh.

“Jeonghan,” You were still at a loss for words. “This- This has to be too much. It’s gorgeous but I can’t accept-” 

“Please accept it.” He said it too quickly and sounded almost stubborn. “When I saw it in the store window, I thought it would go perfectly with the dress and you look amazing in dark blues..” Jeonghan trailed off, meeting your eyes. 

“I- It’s perfect, Jeonghan.” You ran your fingers over the shining diamonds, smiling. “But please never tell me how much this is.” 

Jeonghan huffed out a laugh, nodding and brushing some hair from his face. “I’ll store it here for safekeeping until the Gala.” 

A yawn rushed out and you covered your mouth, trying to stop. Jeonghan was following right behind with a yawn of his own, grumbling like a child who didn’t want to sleep. 

“Since neither of us are sober enough to drive, you can stay in my room for the night.” 

Frowning, you shook your head and patted the couch. “I’m fine sleeping here, it’s your bed, Jeonghan.” 

“Nope, already decided, I’ll kick Chan over and sleep on his bed.” 

“That’s rude.” You countered. 

“And he never cares.” 

Jeonghan walked you through the halls further into the house, passing art you’ve never seen and doors you’ve never entered. Really the two main places you’ve been inside the house were Seungcheol’s office and Pandora. He pushed the door open and flicked on the lights and let you walk in first, walking over to his closet with the jewelry box. 

Much like that rest of the house, there were brown and rusty colored accents that gave the room its own charm. His bed had a handful of throw pillows tossed to the side of his mattress and the other side was half made, much like you do with your bed. There was a bookcase with plenty of books, all different thicknesses and some titles you could pick out from your own reading escapades. It was simple but homey, it fit Jeonghan and how he most likely just wanted to relax without much care after a long day. 

He appeared back from his closet with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, handing them off. “These should do, it's better than the same clothes you’ve been wearing all day.” 

Thanking him, you stood at the side of the bed, watching him head to the door and point further down the hall. 

“Chan’s room is two doors down on the left, if you need anything just knock or text me.” 

“I will, thank you again, Jeonghan.”

With the door closed firmly behind him, you changed into the clothing provided and hesitantly crawled into the bed after flicking the lights off. Staring into the dark, you tucked in, smiling at nothing in particular. Today was great, amazing even. The guys were your friends, people you could lean on and it felt nice to have them around you. 

You fell asleep filled with new found peace.

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List to get added!

Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 28

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hello! This chapter is all flashbacks!

Next chapter things start to pick up. I will still be loosely following the plot of Narcos but not the exact timeline for times sake. Would just feel cruel keeping the babies apart for five more chapters! I hope this doesn't hinder anyones reading experience.

Send asks! Enjoy

Summer 1986

There is a heat wave and you find it as a personal punishment.

You stand in the middle of your empty room and feel nothing. You see the wallpaper lifting, small drawings you made when you were a child and you see dust untouched and you feel not much.

You’re in a dress.

One you hate, but you let your mother have some control for one last time. Baby blue with off white stripes, ruffling at your neckline. Blue little heels leaving an indent in your vacuumed rug. You bought that van you passed on your way to work with the black and red for sale sign.

Packed all your belongings and held a tag sale on all your furniture. 

It wasn’t common in your culture what you planned on doing. You family is meant to be by your side forever. You don't leave.

Up and leaving like spoiled Americans, that's the way your mother saw it. She kept her thoughts to herself but you heard her on the phone with her friend.

Ranting in Spanish about your ungrateful ass. That you were given the world, you had a roof, you had a bed, and look what you give in return.

The truth is, if the endless cycle of familial guilt didn’t exist in immigrant households everyone would grow some balls and leave behind those who mistreated you– even if they were family. 

You see your mother and you see someone who wanted to leave parents that never seemed to care for her either. You see her as a young woman determined to build her own life. If they hadn’t died she’d still be in Florida in their basement hoping one day they’ll care to show love to their daughter. The cycle continues. You suppose you’re breaking it, or maybe creating a new one–who’s to say.

You’ll ask your kids when they're in their twenties.

Your mother lived for approval. It’s why she spent hours on the phone with random “friends” who acted as yes men while she described all her flaws and missteps without shame. They will tell her how she is so strong and doesn’t deserve a spoiled brat like you.

An overgrown popular girl. Your mother was.

She scurries to the feet of the Smithfield's to help with their wedding. In an attempt of kindness, she’s never been very good at this, she promises not to be so involved in the wedding considering it– "makes you all depressed.”

You looked at her with a squint but decided to nod, reminding yourself that soon you’ll be gone. You planned on sleeping in the morning of the wedding. To which that idea died when your mother frantically barged into your nearly empty room. 

“The air conditioning in their church is out! We have to move services outside. I have to get it set up.” And then she slams the door and bolts. You shut your eyes tighter and let out a scream that was actually quite liberating for 30 seconds until you were reminded that your step father was still in bed with the baby.

You pretended to be asleep when he banged on your door as a warning. You eventually do doze off and find yourself waking up numb in more ways than one at 1:30 pm. 

You told yourself that you will only attend the ceremony. You knew if you stayed for the reception you might throw down one too many mimosas and end up vomiting on Lorraine and crying for Javier.

So… yeah no.

You dress up, paint your face like a fraud and you can’t cry so there's that scary truth. You were floating, finding yourself nowhere in the middle of your empty room. So that’s when you find yourself giving your room one last look for a little while. In the dress your mom bought. Rugged floor with a mattress splayed in the middle and nothing else but cobwebs and wall drawings. You don’t dwell, you don’t think but your nails are picking at each other and you’re so scared to be alone again. 

You leave and load your new truck stuffed with your entire life and drive to church. 

You think of making the wrong turn at every light, because you could just leave for good now. Save yourself from reality.

Javier and his father spent a few nights the past week having hard conversations. They smashed down cases of beer and Javier attempted to absorb all of the golden stories his father had to offer. 

Ultimately Javier wanted to know what he felt when his mother was pregnant. 

He said to him that he felt this pull towards her, Flaca.

Despite their rocky relationship it was like her hormones and his existed as one and all they could ever think about is how they were going to be having their own little family.

Chucho says that it’s common amongst new fathers to feel guilt when they take any small glance at their partner. Because what a task it is to grow a person inside of you. He says it isn’t the typical feeling you get when someone you know is pregnant. It isn’t just a, let me be nice to her she’s with child. No, Chucho had the urge to worship the ground she walked on, thank her—he said if she was craving pickles at 2 am he’d go out and buy some. He said this pull was biological, there was no explanation for it. 

Javier wonders when he’ll begin to feel that. At all.  

“Can I be honest with you?” Frankie flattens the lapels of his tux in Javier’s poorly decorated room. Javier flicks ash in his tray, he was beyond grateful that the heat wave hadn’t fucked with the power at his dad’s ranch. If it had, the heat might have triggered him at the wrong moment and he’d be running on foot away from the altar.

That’s just the sort of mood he was in.

He was almost looking for an excuse to not get married today, to give him some time so he can find a way out while also still obtaining the right to see his child grow. 

Lorraine slept in his bed all week, Javier slept in the living room most nights. It was two nights ago when he slept in the same bed as her. He had snuck into the room for his new pack of reds he left in his jacket late at night when he heard her crying. They talked about their fears, or he explained his anxieties and guilt and she stayed silent. He dozed off with a small bump below his hand and a promise of being a good father.

He thought it was you next to him and woke up in a cold sweat. 

Today he woke up numb. Chucho had been silent and to himself ever since Lorraine made her place in the home. Chucho was going through his own grief in ways, he was losing his son all over again. He was losing you too and soon he would be completely alone like he was when Javi was in Houston and you were in college. Javier supposes he’s also angry at his irresponsibility. Just a month ago they were knee deep in dirt and Chucho begged him not to hurt you again. 

Javier’s father left the house early to help with setting up the small wedding. Lorraine was at her parents place getting ready with her mother and Javier was here, at home with Frankie.

Javier was stalling a bit, he got the call that Lorraine was already on the road and Javier hadn’t even perfected his tie yet. He shoots a glance at Frankie. “I feel like you’re always honest, even if you’re being a fucking dick.” Javier mutters, pulling his tie over his shoulders. Multitasking, taking a drag with one hand and assembling his tie with the other. Frankie chuckles. 

“When you asked me to be your best man a few days ago I thought about punching you.” He shrugs, swiping his curls out his face and sipping the beer at Javier’s nightstand. Javier frowns because he knows this isn’t just a little joke amongst friends. “And listen, you were dealt some shitty cards, this whole situation is fucked up. Luckily the impending doom of fatherhood has made me soft and I know you probably need me to be your friend right now– and I will but just know it’s really hard.”

Javi looks at the ground, he can't look your brother in the eye. He felt like he did last Thursday when he saw you in 7-11, when you looked at him and pretended he didn’t exist.

He knew it was really over, and he felt like nothing.

“I wanted to marry your sister.”

“I know.” 

Javi looks up at Frankie and find him looking away. They were best friends but their vulnerability never stretched beyond reflecting on their childhood. This was new and they couldn’t look each other in the eye. “Before… all of this. Me and Andrea planned on telling you about us.”

“Hmph.” He clenches his jaw.

“Would you have… been okay with it?”

It's silent again, just the distant white noise of his clunky AC.

“Yeah. I was angry when you first came home and honestly still upset until recently about how you left her. But my priorities shifted so I guess I would have been grossed out but ultimately happy that you know… finally.”

Javi chuckles, “Yeah… finally.” It all could've been so simple. "She would be better off without me. I'm glad she's making this move." Javi mutters.

Frankie doesn't agree but his silence is enough answer. “I don’t like Lorraine very much. But I’m about to be a dad, you're about to be a dad. I feel like this was an opportunity to be a better friend to you. I hope that our kids become best friends so I feel like you know… I gotta be here now to make that happen.”

There was the silver lining in all of this.

 The promise of a family. Even if the family was just Javier and his child. That could be enough, it was enough for his father. Javier grins at Frankie and he grins back. 

“She’s probably waiting at the altar. Let's go.” Javi jokes and adjusts his tie. Frankie gets to his feet and points to the ceiling and looks up with it.  

“Padre ruega por nosotros.”

“Thank god you’re here. They’re running so late. Lorraine is cursing up a storm inside.” 

Genie grabs your arm and pulls you into the makeshift ceremony set up. You’ll give it to your mom, she did a decent job making this look alright. The guests weren’t seated, instead they were gossiping in small groups. It was far too hot to have a wedding outdoors. You scan and realize this wasn’t the modest little wedding that was on the invitation. 

Surprise! We’re getting married at Laredo Baptist on June 21st . 

It was handwritten and left on your counter by your mother last week. You would be surprised that so many people showed up in such short notice but it’s Laredo, and it’s the preacher's daughter getting married to Laredos DEA prodigy. There were so many people from your high school you swear you could faint. 

“Isn’t the ceremony scheduled to start in 3 minutes.” You rushed out of your truck when you saw the time on your stereo. The last thing you wanted to do was walk in late when Javier’s saying his vows or what not. 

Vows.

Why am I here? 

Genie nodded in annoyance, “Sit down on the third row next to my purse. Your mom was in shambles arguing with Chucho inside about Javier’s tardiness. I’m going back to that.”

“Do you want me to come with-“ You don’t know why you asked, it would be mental warfare for you. Your mother rowdy and Lorraine cranky. It’s like your least favorite people in one room, dumb idea. Genie knew it too and just squeezed your shoulder and walked back towards the church. You watch her go with a sigh and make your way to your seat. 

The hair on the nape of your neck sticking to you like glue. You missed the seventies, you missed when the dresses your mother bought you were flowy— not stiff and hot and ruffly. It was a sensory nightmare on top of the fact this whole thing was a nightmare-nightmare.

If anyone knew your situation besides your lovely sister in law, they’d smack you upside the head and force you leave because good. Lord, was this stupid. You wondered every six minutes of today why in the world you were doing this to yourself. It wasn’t as if the situation alone made you forget what it felt like to be happy. 

But there comes that sliver, the tiny line of delusion that has you believing that this is all real.

 That it’s a hoax, that the cameras are rolling and they’ll be revealed soon. So maybe you’re at the wedding in hopes of the camera crew to come out with a surprise before the I do’s. It’s healthier to say that you’re here because watching it happen will officially end a chapter about the thing you once thought was meant to be the premise of the whole book. 

Two rows behind you, you could hear the chatter. 

“I don’t get it. He’s been home for two months without her. Now all of sudden he’s getting married. It’s fishy.”

“Exactly! It seems like a shotgun wedding. Lorraine Smithfield would never get married in a such a disorganized manner if this wasn’t obviously some front.”

“Not to start anything but I swear I saw Javier kiss Andrea outside that party Xavi threw for memorial day.”

“Andrea? Like Frankie Diaz’s little sister?”

“Yes! I heard that they hooked up in high school. I always thought they would bang.”

“Javier hooked up with everyone in high school.”

“Nah. This was different. I think he was dating Lorraine when they did. Super sneaky because Lorri and Andrea were buddies.”

“I don’t think so. I know Andrea, she's shy, she doesn’t peg me as a homewrecker.”

“Eh I guess. I don’t know, regardless it’s too bad for her. I remember she had the craziest crush on him, now she’s watching him get married.”

“Tragic.”

“Speaking of, why is he so late?”

Lorraine didn’t feel like Chuchos beat up truck was an appropriate ride to roll in for their wedding so she left him her car. Frankie loaded into the passenger's seat all fidgety and nervous. Javier still had been on a rare mental high of picturing holding his child for the first time. Frankie really brought it out of him and despite dreading getting married—he saw the slightest glimpse of hope. 

But ultimately he knows at the end of the his short ride will be an altar, and you in the stands. It was his worst nightmare. He knows married life with Lorraine will be unpleasant. Just dating life with her left him a bit scarred. Tantrums and shattered plates. Holding her wrists so she couldn’t claw at him in a fit of anger. He tried to understand her, he really did.

She told him about her parents cheating on each other constantly. The yelling and constant fighting. Mrs. Smithfield was an explosive partner, Lorraine took after her he supposes. 

They were the classic case of town socialites. Pristine and prim and perfect to everyone else. Behind closed doors, toxic and unhealthy. She told him all of it after one of her blow ups over him working later than usual. In hopes to excuse her actions. He listened, still he grew more and more resentful of their relationship with every argument that ended in him consoling him. He found it difficult to empathize with her. You can only be so awful so many times, only a few times could be excused by trauma. 

Javier rolled his tongue on the side of his mouth, clenched his jaw and held the steering wheel tightly as he inched out of the driveway. Driving as slow as he could, he needed more time. Frankie was fidgety, the same way he was two weeks ago when he was getting married. He was rambling the same, Javier tried his best to keep it together. The air on Lorraines car was shit. The suit was thick, and itchy and a bit too big. He didn’t have time to be tailored. 

Didn't have time to be tailored. How fucked was that. 

His eyes had bags and he wasn’t smiling. His chest was tight every second, it loosened at the thought of being a father. He still almost had that. He was close to telling Frankie to shut the fuck up. He was so deep in his own ramblings he hadn’t noticed that Javier purposefully drove in a loop, finding the courage to make the left on main street. 

“You know maybe it isn’t all that bad. You two aren't doing vows, service should be quick.” Frankie drummed his fingers along the dash. Wiping sweat from his brow and settling back into the car seat. 

Javi mumbled in blind agreement. 

“It’ll be nice, me and you with baby carriers. Women love that shit, not that I’m interested but you know for you.”

“I’m literally about to get married.” Javi deadpanned. 

“Well, you know it’s not like traditional. Or maybe it's very traditional, most marriages around here are arranged in a way you know? Like preordained. Half of the married people here are with the only person their parents let them around growing up. Always a family friend, or a high school sweetheart. Not me, I found my wife. She rejected me a few times but you know I found her.” He gleams and Javier can’t imagine feeling the same way he does. Maybe he was familiar, but he isn’t anymore.

Javi shoots him a side glance. “Genevieve was your high school sweetheart though.”           

“I guess. We broke up like ten times though so we both had our fun. We lived before we settled. I’m happy she took me back that last time. I wouldn’t want a family with anyone else.”

How lucky, Javier is tempted to verbalize but he keeps it to himself. “Hm.” Javi circles the street one more time. 

“If you’re going to keep stalling we might as well…” Frankie reaches into his jacket pulling out a zip lock baggie with a perfectly rolled joint. He noticed then, Javier wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or not for being so shameless in his anxiety. Javi chuckles and nods in approval. “Lighter?” 

He shrugged, “Never been in this car, check here.” He leans over, tapping the glove compartment and straightening up. “You think they're going to kill us for being fifteen minutes late.”

Frankie shrugged, tucking his hand on the handle and opening the thing. A yellow lighter and three papers fall out. Two white with black type on it, and one little black square. A sonogram. Javier smiles at the sight, it seems a bit different from the picture Lorraine let him have. The baby seemed smaller, it must have been an earlier appointment. Far before she came back to Laredo. Frankie seems to not care, he was zeroed in on that lighter. “Clean that shit up man.” Frankie chuckles, grabbing the papers. 

He smiles at the sonogram. “Little guy. This shit is crazy. Lorraine Smithfield, June 6th 1986 12 weeks pregnant. Who would have thought?” Frankie chuckles, losing the doctor's note back in the compartment. Oblivious to Javier's silence, he flicks the lighter on. His brows furrow at the stoplight and make the left to take him right back to the house. His chest tight, and jaw tight. Frankie turns his head. “You alright.”

Javier blinks, once, twice. He holds the third time, the tips of his ears hot. Knuckles white. Frankie catches on, and in a panic grabs the paper again. Flipping to the second page, another note, from another appointment. And from Frankies, quiet, You’ve got to be fucking with me, the time was confirmed.

 Javier closes his eyes again, sees your face, feels the blistering heat. 

He turns his car around.

The chatter is unbearable. The people are getting antsy and the sun is getting hotter, somehow. Your dress is itchier, you’ve scratched your thigh about twenty six times. A nervous tick, you dig your heels in the grass. Dirt surfacing at your fidget.

He’s nearly half an hour late now. You’ve listened to your ex classmates gossip for far too long, you’ve been tempted to turn around and make your presence known for minutes now. Mr. Smithfield came out ten minutes ago blaming the wait on a wardrobe malfunction which earned laughs from everyone but you.

You read straight through the lie. 

You were about to reach for your twenty seventh scratch when a cold hand grips your shoulder. You turn your head and flinch at your mothers closeness. “We need you inside. Now.” She doesn’t give you a moment to think. She's taking your hand and making heads turn while she drags you to the front of the church. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark surroundings of the powerless cathedral. It's loud inside, Spanish and English overlapping. Arguing, yelling, crying. 

You drop your mothers hand and stride toward the noise. Afraid, and confused. Your heels tap against the polished floor. And your mother scurries behind you as you turn the corner and find the scene. Chucho cursing in his mother tongue. Lorraine crying, holding her stomach and Genie yelling at Mrs. Smithfield.

You blink, once, twice and wave your hands. “Woah– What's going on?!” You shake your head. Placing your purse on the ground. Lorraine looks up at you and breaks into more tears. Her mascara ran down her blushed cheeks. Her dress poofing beside her on the pew. Her father held her shoulder, with his nose pinched. Your mother is holding your arm. You shake her off. You silence the room with your presence. 

Genie turns to you fully, her cheeks red from anger. “He’s not the father.”

You don't register what she means. You stare blankly at her for a moment. You look at each of the people in the room, and it hits you.

It hits you and you take a step back like it was a physical threat. Your eyes flick to Lorraine and she's looking at you with eyes like an apology.

“I thought– I thought it would fix us– I”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It has your head spinning, it echoes off the walls, felt like it could rattle the stained glass windows. For a moment you're unsure who it came from. You have never heard Chucho raise his voice and it strikes you. It blurs for you. 

“Do not cuss at my daughter. It was what we felt was best for her situation.” Mrs. Smithfield strokes Lorriane's hair and she leans her forehead to her mothers stomach. Chucho shakes his head and removes his hat. He holds it over his chest, with a face of absolute devastation. He takes one look at you and walks away from the scene. 

You swear you hear him rip a sob as he walks away. Torn from head to toe at the pain his son must be feeling. You want to forget the sound of the strongest person in your life crumbling.

But you– you- you're angry. You close your eyes and breathe slowly, shake your mothers grip away. You hear Genie take some steps towards you and you accept her hold. You feel anger burning so bright, the reflection in your sockets burn orange. 

Calmly, you ask, “Could someone please tell me what's going on.” 

Genevieve is angry too, she jumps to it. “She’s been lying– she knew it wasn’t Javi’s he–” She takes a deep breath. “I can't believe I called you a friend.” Genie cuts straight through Lorraine and she racks another chest heaving sob. Genie rolls her eyes and moves to stand in front of you. Blocking a view of Lorraine.

She walks you around the corner and away from the family entirely. It’s just the two of you at the entrance of the church.  “Frankie called me. He found notes from her most recent appointment. The timeline doesn’t add up– Javi– he– He’s so hurt. He’s not coming. Frankie’s on his way, he doesn’t want to be around anyone.”

Your chin quivers and you're embarrassed by it. You do not want to cry in front of her. 

“He shouldn't be alone.” You frown, lip trembling. “He shouldn’t, I have to go– I can't believe this.” You nearly take a step but she grabs you again. 

“No– No. Chucho will go see him. Her parents knew– they were trying to save their image because she doesn’t know the father. And she–she believed this could fix them. She planned on getting back with him before she even knew she was pregnant. She’s only three months along, Andrea… I– I’m sick to my stomach.” Tears form at the corners of her eyes and she holds her own stomach. You hold her this time, rubbing her arms. You weren't sure if you were trying to soothe yourself or her. Maybe the latter.  

“Hey, hey, take it easy for her.” You join her hand on her stomach and she breathes steadier at that. You stay like this for a moment, grounding her while you float. While your heart is filled with pure rage. While you think of how upset he must be, how many irreversible changes you’ve made to your life because of this situation– this hoax– I have to see him. I have to tell him I love him, that I’ll break my lease. I’ll lose all the money I threw away to run away from him. I will be there, tell him it was never his fault. That I will never be angry with him.

“Please…” You whisper, “Please I–” You’re cut off by Lorraines audible sobs and fuck it, you’ve had enough. You let Genie go and she watches your face contort in genuine discontent. You shake your head and you begin to walk away.

“Andrea!” Genie calls for you but strut right back into the nave. Lorraine looks up at you and all you see is self pity. 

You reach down to grab your purse and you tuck it under your arm. You hold your chin up high and there are no tears.

 “You are an evil person. I spent years feeling guilty about my crush on Javier- feeling guilty because you were so kind to me to my face. But really Lorraine, you're just a mean girl. I would never wish anything bad upon you. Living the rest of your life as yourself is enough karma.” Her nostrils flare and she deserves all of this. Being left in tears at the altar. You hope to god that Javier never speaks to her again. That she repeats this day in her head forever. Without closure. You look to her parents who seem to be praying. Eyes closed, holding her shoulders. You take a step forward and slam your hand against the pew. It echoes loudly and they snap from their performance and look at you. “Pray harder, all three of you are going to hell.” 

You turn at their gasps and walk back into the atrium where your mother is sat at the stairs to the basement with a frown. Genie is still in the same spot, rubbing her stomach. You dig in your purse for your car keys. You almost forget that your entire life is packed in that thing right now.

“I’ll call you later. I have to go make sure he’s alright.” You wave to your mother and begin to walk when you hear Genie call your name. 

“He asked not to see you.” It rings around the halls of the church. Echoing, a satisfying sound to no ones ears but Lorraines. Your heart dips low.

“What?” But you aren’t sure you heard correctly. 

Genie looks at her shoes and begins to cry. “I don't know Andrea– he- he said to not let you in the house. He can't– he doesn't want to see you.” Your breathing hitches and your eyes gloss over.

“What do you mean I–”

The church doors open and your body whips around to face your brother.

He had been crying too, he looks at the car keys in your hands and back up at your tear stained face. And he knows.

“You can’t go. He– he doesn’t want to get in the way– not again.”

And fuck it, you're bawling in the middle of your childhood church. “Get in the way of what?”

“He knows you're leaving, he knows you signed the lease. He knows you got a job in New Orleans.”

Shaking your head again you try to walk past your brother but he steps in front of you again. “Frankie–please just move. I– I’m not changing my whole plan– I just need to see him.” You move your way around him and near the door when he calls out once more.

“He knows that isn’t true. He told me. He knows nena. He knows if you see him again you will never leave. He knows you’ll give up all your plans for him. He does not want to see you.”

He's speaking to the back of your head and for a moment you pause. Each word hit like slices. You, an open wound in front of everyone.

Soaking it all in. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. 

You open the church door and step back into the sunlight. Looking at the grass full of people still waiting on a wedding that was never going to happen.

Every step you take, you nearly trip, you quicken your pace once you see your packed car. Your eyes so full of hot tears you can barely stick you key properly. Cussing at yourself between tears until you can figure it out. You're not sure how long you cry in your car but you cry long enough for people to start leaving the wedding.

You lay your head on the wheel for most of it, afraid to be caught by onlookers. Your chest rips in stomach churning sobs. You know he’s right, you know you'll leave it all for him. You were ready to be nothing and no one together. Hold him until he’s had enough, until Colombia. Revert to your original plan of just… you and him and the summer. Just us. And if you did, it would hurt all just the same.

Your head hurts less.

Your eyes dry.

Your dress discarded in the passenger's seat, changed into a t-shirt and shorts.

Milk shake in your cup holder, eyes still puffy.

Chest tight but the sun sets and you think you’ll just cry more when you get there. 

You drive to New Orleans and don't look back.

[yelenasdiary]

ive got an angst request! reader grew up with yelena in the red room and they were inseperable, and ruthless assassin partners and have always been there for each other but after they graduated, yelena went on to become a subjugated widow while the reader was sold by dreykov to hydra to train with bucky to become a winter soldier, and she gets the super soldier serum. years pass and she escapes, becoming an avenger but she eventually goes on the run after the accords and meets back up with yelena and nat during black widow and helps them take down the red room. even more time passes and yelena and reader become girlfriends and even better partners than they were before but then she survives the blip while yelena is dusted and theres a bunch of angst as natasha tries to pull her basically sis in law out of a slump as they both grieve yelena together but when given the chance to bring everyone back, reader ends up being the one to take on thanos in the end and slight of hands the stones off of him and snaps to destroy him and his armies. it ends with nat comforting yelena as they sit at readers grave. ive got a fun idea for part 2 if your interested in reader somehow surviving the whole thing but still having faked her death.

It Was Always The Plan

It Was Always The Plan

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Super Solider! Reader

Summary: After losing your girlfriend to the blip, you struggled to cope. Natasha lends a helping hand while you plan to take down the superhuman who took her away from you. 

Angst | Some Fluff | Slight Language Warning | Grief | Character Death | Depression | 1.3K |

AC: Thank you for sending this & in great background detail!! It’s unknown (well to me anyways) if Alexei and Melina survived the blip so I’ve added a little extra detail, I hope you enjoy this x As for a part 2, I’m not sure if we’ll do one but we’ll see.

Year 1 - 

Natasha placed a mug of hot coco in front of you before she took a seat across from you. It's been a struggle, but she finally managed to get you out of bed, even if it was just to sit at the table and have a hot drink with her. A few months ago, you lost your girlfriend, Yelena, to the blip. At first you didn't think she was turned into tiny pieces of dust, given that she was on a mission at the time, and you just assumed she would contact you when she was safe. But when Natasha tracked down Yelena's last whereabouts, it became clear that the blonde was gone, just like half the population. 

Since Natasha told you what you feared, things have been dark and cold. Life just didn't seem enjoyable. You missed Yelena, deeply. But under the grief, you were angry and wanted nothing more than to destroy the one person who took the best part of you away, Thanos. 

"Is there any plans yet?" you looked up at Natasha, a question you'd ask her once a week and every answer was the same, "No" she replied softly with a light shake of her head. Every no that left her lips made your heart break once more. You tried to be mindful that Natasha was also hurting, losing her sister isn't easy but it was clear that Natasha was dealing with the grief in her own way. 

Every day she'd come by your room and check in on you, encourage you to come to team meetings, go for a walk or just simply come join her downstairs for a hot drink as you are right now. There were times where you allowed yourself to break down into tears while Natasha comforted you, something next to nobody has ever seen from you besides Yelena. 

Year 2 – 

As time went on, things didn't exactly get easier, but you learnt to cope with it in different ways. Natasha was the one who really pulled you out of the darkness of your room and continued to keep an eye on you which in many ways helped you both grow closer in more of a sister-in-law way and you almost felt like Yelena was still here. 

You trained daily in the gym, attended team meetings, went on small missions when needed but in your own free time was when you found yourself trying to find ways to reverse Thanos's  snap. Whenever you came up with something that you thought might be useful it always led to a dead end, and you were back to square one. 

You also continued the work Yelena was doing with Melina before the blip, saving other widows. With the blip, it made it harder to track down some widows as they were also blipped but those who you and Melina could save brought some comfort and you only hoped that when (and if) Yelena would come home, she'd be glad that others were saved during this hard time. 

Year 3 – 

By now, dealing with loosing Yelena and the others was leaving the emptiness within your heart even deeper and for most, life when on. Mission came and went, Widows were still being saved from Dreykov's control even though he was dead, and the world moved on, like human nature. 

Each night you found yourself seeing Yelena in your dreams or remembering good times you had with her. Memories from Red Room to meeting up with her again after years, you could still feel the way she kissed you before she left for a mission and the way you loved having her fall asleep in your arms. She made you feel like the world was in your hands, just the two of you in this world that almost made no sense to either of you. 

You missed the way Yelena would tease you for almost everything, only for you to tease her back. You missed everything about her that eventually you'd fall asleep with tears rolling down your cheeks just wishing she'd walk through that door and apologise for being away for so long. You thought about how she'd tell you that her mission when wrong and she was taken and finally was able to escape or that she was out at sea and couldn't contact you. 

But every scenario you played out in your head made you feel stupid for thinking that Yelena would let you and her family go this long without hearing from her.

Year 4 – 

"You hit training pretty hard today, are you okay?" Natasha asked as you entered the compounds kitchen drenched in sweat. You nodded and smiled softly, "just making sure I'm ready" you replied before grabbing a cold bottle of water. 

"Ready for what?" Natasha questioned. 

"You know, for when we finally find Thanos and bring them home" you explained with confidence which only grew to Natasha's endless worries on you. Each day you showed that you were okay with how things were, that you were finding a way to cope but just like everybody around you, nobody was okay, not truly. 

Everybody was doing something to try and fix things.

----

When you saw Scott rushing to Natasha's office you felt something that felt like it was slipping away, hope. The look on Natasha's face when she came to see you hours later only confirmed what you and everybody else had been hoping for.

"We have a plan" Natasha looked at you with a soft smile, a sparkle of hope in her eyes made you smile, "let's bring her home" you replied. 

The only thing on your mind when it came to fighting the superhuman who took away your true happiness and the rest of your loved ones, was them. Nothing else mattered to you but making sure Thanos would pay and you were determined to make sure he knew that he messed with the wrong team of Avengers. 

You'd been training yourself up for this, taking the gauntlet from the purple enemy knowing exactly what you were going to do next. 

"Time's up big boy" you smirked as Thanos turned around an faced you, his gauntlet on your hand boiled his blood. "You don't understand!" he spat. "No, you don't understand! You took the one person I love more than anything from me! You took my friends and family! There's no forgiveness for that in my books!" You looked him directly into his eyes, raising your hand up slightly. 

"Y/N! NO!" Natasha yelled as she ran towards you, "that wasn't the plan!" she added as you looked to her. 

"This was always the plan, Nat" you smiled softly. "I know you'll take care of her" you added before your eyes looked back at Thanos and snapped your fingers together without a second thought other than knowing Yelena and the others would finally be coming home. 

----

Every single day since Natasha brought her to your grave, Yelena would visit you. She'd bring some of your favorite snacks and just sit with you until she felt okay again. Natasha was never too far, always ready to be a shoulder for her sister to cry on.

"You idiot" Yelena shook her head as she placed a kiss on your gravestone, "you were supposed to be here, waiting. Not like this" she added. 

Most interactions started off like this, first Yelena would show anger and hurt but soon it would change to how much she misses you and talking to you about the things she wants to do to keep your memory alive, letting you know that she'll never let anybody forget who saved the world. Then Natasha would come sit with her before the two of them shared their favorite memories with you. 

It would take some time for Yelena to adjust, like you did. But she knew she had everybody she needed around her, even you and Natasha would be the one to make sure that Yelena would never forget about you, not that she ever would.

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