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temis-de-leon · 18 days ago

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Rejecting their Sin - Part 1

Lucifer: Humility

Modest and unassuming attitude, a willingness to serve others.

Main Masterlist

Rejecting their Sin - Masterlist

Summary: He finds you first and doesn't hesitate to comfort you, but there's a bridge of vulnerability he's not willing to cross.

You had been living with them for months by the time he finally realised something was troubling your mind, but it wasn’t the hours spent together what made him feel entitled to the constant knowledge of your mental state. Instead, it was your mischievous disobedience, his brutal death threats and the consequential reconciliation that forced him to finally see you as a trusted friend (and something more; still unestablished).

Lucifer knew what you had for breakfast each day and how you wore your RAD uniform to be more comfortable. He also knew not to reorganize your things, even when you left them in odd places all around the house, how long it took you to shower and what was your favourite dish to cook.

So, trivial details roommates would know about each other.

However, the Avatar of Pride knew much more than that. He had studied, by heart, what path his fingers should follow along the length of your arm to make your hair stand up, and how long he had to kiss you before your knees gave up and surrendered to him. He stayed awake each time you went out with friends just to see you back home safe, and no matter the reason he went out, he always brought back something for you to enjoy.

It wasn’t shared time or learnt habits what made him want to know what made you so melancholic, but the fact that he had worked to gain your trust and gave his in return. Partner or not, you were his, so why weren’t your afflictions as well?

“Tell me who” he whispered against the fresh air of the night. You were sitting beside one of the tombs in the House of Lamentation’s cemetery, the gloomy garden serving as an adequate location for you to cry. “Tell me who and I’ll solve everything”

Thankfully, you weren’t sobbing hard enough yet and he still understood your breathy words, muffled against his chest.

He briefly wondered who was buried underneath before focusing his sole attention on you.

“It was no one; it was me” your voice cracked. He hugged you tighter in response and felt a part of him squirm in anguish when you grasped the fur in his collar and hid even further under his coat. “He said something and I got mad and I… I ignored him for days and he tried to talk, but I kept ignoring him… I came to my senses and tried to say I was sorry, but he won’t accept it. I said I’d do anything, but he just…!”

A distraught gasp escaped you, interrupting your rant, and Lucifer couldn’t do more than protect your trembling figure from the harsh cold of the Devildom night and try to understand what you were saying.

The ground was moist with nocturnal dew and permanent moist from the fog, but he didn’t care at the moment. While he could wash his clothes anytime, consoling you wasn’t something he did often (not because he wasn’t there, but rather because your safety was secured with him and rarely disturbed), so he’d choose giving you warmth and comfort over a clean outfit anytime; as mortifying as getting up afterwards would be.

Did you argue with Belphegor again? To his knowledge, you had patched things up with his brother and carried a cordial friendship with him, but still butted heads from time to time. However, none of your arguments had ever left you cowering, hiding in darkness and fog; much less crying. Not when his brothers were so obsessed with you, to the point of doing anything just to see you smile; even ridiculing themselves or breaking more than a couple of rules and laws.

No… Had Belphie been the cause of your pain, the problem would’ve been solved long before Lucifer came back from the castle.

Besides, something in your words didn’t add to his brother’s behaviour.

Holding a grudge? Sure, he had seen that in first person during that last year. But not accepting your apology? Denying your servitude?

“Who’s ‘he’, MC?” he asked, trying to sound calm and collected.

You needed something stable to hold on to.

“My brother” was the only thing you said before losing your composure once and for all.

Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes in resignation as he let your combined weight rest against the tombstone. His fingers softly untangled your hair, drawing circles on your nape when they reached the soft skin before travelling up and repeating the process.

He knew a thing or two about brothers, and he knew dozens of things about you.

About your brother, though? He was clueless.

But he’d never let you know that.

“I was wrong… I was wrong…” you kept repeating with a quivering voice.

The words sounded unknown to his ears, and soon cold sweat quickly covered his body when he realised an uncomfortable truth: he had no idea how to help you. How to gain someone's forgiveness when never in his life had he admitted an honest mistake? Instead, he'd chose to tease and deflect the conversation when such situations occurred.

“Everything will be alright” he lied through his teeth, stumbling with the rushed sentence and wincing when you chuckled sourly in response.

He knew you.

Lucifer knew he knew you.

However...

“You don’t know that” you murmured in a nasal tone, voice tampered with tears and mucus, almost like you were reading his mind “You don’t know him”

Silence interrupted the night. Several crows observed the awful situation from their places on the dying willow tree, but Lucifer's red eyes were entirely focused on your trembling form, comfortably settled against his body.

Although he liked having you this close, a part of him longed to run away to his room and drink his frustration away.

“Everything will be alright” he repeated.

There was no room for discussion in his tone.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

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autismswagsummit · 10 months ago

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The Bracket has been set!

This year's competitor pool is hot, with 23 returning competitors and 41 new appearances. In Round 1, the matches will be broken up into 4 waves, divided by the quadrants displayed on the bracket. The matches will all be listed below the cut, for everyone's reference.

SIDE A, PART 1

Donatello Hamato (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) v.s L Lawliet (Death Note)

Mary Anta (Cemetery Mary) v.s Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai)

Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia) v.s Branch (Dreamworks Trolls)

Snufkin (Moominvalley) v.s Futaba Sakura (Persona 5)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life) v.s Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes)

Blathers (Animal Crossing) v.s Princess Bubblegum (Adventure Time)

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) v.s Zane (Lego Ninjago)

Tomoko Kuroki (Watamote) v.s Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy 7)

SIDE A, PART 2

Frieren (Sousou no Frieren) v.s Papyrus (Undertale)

Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) v.s Ferb Fletcher (Phineas & Ferb)

Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls) v.s Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Berdly (Deltarune) v.s Gregory House (House M.D)

Data (Star Trek) v.s Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)

Peridot (Steven Universe) v.s Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Sig (Puyo Puyo) v.s Marcy Wu (Amphibia)

Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) v.s Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

SIDE B, PART 1

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece) v.s Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi) v.s Iggy Maxwell (Our Wonderland)

Dendy (OK KO: Let's Be Heroes) v.s Gin Ibushi (Your Turn To Die)

Norma Khan (Dead End: Paranormal Park) v.s Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Starfire (Teen Titans) v.s Luz Noceda (The Owl House)

Siffrin (In Stars And Time) v.s Huey Duck (Ducktales 2017)

Lilo Pelekai (Lilo & Stitch) v.s Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Woo Young Woo (Extraordinary Attorney Woo) v.s Miles "Tails" Prower (Sonic the Hedgehog)

SIDE B, PART 2

Razputin Aquato (Psychonauts) v.s Linhardt von Hevring (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Ranpo Edogawa (Bungou Stray Dogs) v.s Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries) v.s Kieran (Pokemon Scarlet & Violet)

Twyla Boogeyman (Monster High) v.s Marina Ida (Splatoon)

Hiccup Haddock (How To Train Your Dragon) v.s Batman (DC Comics)

Abed Nadir (Community) v.s Red Son (Lego Monkie Kid)

Uzi Doorman (Murder Drones) v.s Bingo Heeler (Bluey)

Gillion Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) v.s Spongebob Squarepants (Spongebob Squarepants)

#autism #polls #autismsummit2024 #tournament

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months ago

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There Was Love Here

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 9

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

warnings: Frank's fragile mental state, heart to heart between friends, swearing, mentions of a cemetery, Frank angst, but I promise it's going to go somewhere positive y'all.

a/n: Thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updates this year! I had some time to write, and then decided to adopt another cat...so... Anyways, his name is Wilbur and he's an angel. I have chapters 10-12 finished as well for this fic, so I'll be posting every few weeks to get those published! As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! Tell me what you want to see next!!!

w/c: 3.6k

Despite his best efforts, sleep was evading him. Rolling his shoulders as he lay against the thin, lumpy mattress, floaters danced across his field of vision as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Any amount of shifting caused the jagged edges of the box springs to further prick at his skin, no doubt leaving small marks in their wake. His right pointer finger tapped aimlessly against his abrasive sheets, his mind flooded with thoughts and yet eerily silent at the same time.

Maybe that was because every new idea flashing across his brain, every synapse that fired, just contributed to the crippling guilt he felt. For growing soft, and allowing himself to want things again. For using you to get what he wanted. And for putting you through hell when he tried to backpedal, to retreat to the safety of loneliness and grief.

A growl rubbed at the inside of his throat, barely loud enough to be audible when it slipped between his lips. It would be so easy to let rage overtake the discomfort he was wading in. To get angry with you, with himself, with every force in the universe that caused the two of you to meet. It would be much less painful to write off your outburst last night as the musings of a drunk, bratty woman and avoid taking any accountability for his hand in your fury.

But every word out of your mouth was honest. And he didn't disagree with most of them.

He'd been the one to send mixed signals. It wasn't deliberate, but it had happened. After you stumbled into his life, he was so charmed by your sweetness and positivity, it didn't occur to him that he was pursuing something more than friendship with you. He’d been swept up in your sparkling current, carried halfway to hell before realizing that he couldn’t see the shore. Suddenly, “platonic” didn’t begin to describe his need to be near you and your beaming smile; the pain guiding his every breath had been abruptly left behind and he’d been too smitten to notice its absence.

And when his mood inevitably turned, the lack of suffering became glaringly obvious. The darkness within him scrabbling for the penance it always sought out, his family’s horrified faces playing on a loop, haunting him. He didn’t deserve comfort, or peace, or love. He was destined to wither away with no company but his own regrets and the mangled corpses of any douchebag he could drag down with him.

Which is why, when you’d surrounded him with your presence rather than allowing him to wallow in his losses, he’d opted for a watery burial.

Maria, Lisa, Frankie, Billy, the countless innocent civilians he’d taken from their families when he’d served…the list of bodies he’d left behind was innumerable. All of them turning to worm food because Frank fucking Castle was too thick to see through the lies he’d been fed by faceless men in tailored suits. Why not add another to that list?

He was a selfish piece of shit. Taking for granted everything you gave so readily and turning on you without cause. As if you were the reason he couldn’t handle when his mind was quiet. Directing his emotions at you in a frenzy instead of growing a pair and sorting out his own shit.

The words you'd used–calling yourself a mistake, a regret–far too vile to ever address you. But those weren't pulled out of your ass. He'd put those thoughts there. He'd implied that he'd made a mistake getting to know you, that he regretted your time together. And in the moment, he'd meant it—just not in the way it had come off.

The mistake was leading you on. Moving too quickly, maybe moving on at all... But you? You were not a mistake. Nor were you a regret. He savored every minute he'd spent with you, it was his own damn fault that he couldn't accept them anymore.

Gripping his hair between trembling fingers, he ripped through the slick, knotted curls with a solicitous grunt. His gaze wandered to the volume of poetry hidden in the stack of books on his nightstand.

Doesn’t everyone want love?

The faded memory of Gluck’s hollowhearted depiction of love bubbled up in his consciousness, piling another heaping of guilt onto his fracturing shoulders. He was no better than Hades. Plucking an innocent girl from the lush meadows she knew, dropping her into a secluded cavern to serve as his plaything. No more than an object to channel his affections until he tired of you, casting you aside like the burnt husk of a match.

He deserved to feel this fucking awful for what he'd done. For hurting you so abruptly, for placing you in harm's way when you were offering him another chance. Not even the god of the dead was that malicious.

Fuck, he needed a fucking drink.

Curtis took a sip of his coffee, savoring it as he swallowed. With a puff of an exhale, a thought abruptly sparked and he lifted his pencil, pressing the graphite tip into the respective squares to write the answer to the Crossword clue. Chuckling softly to himself at the author's obvious mischief, he shook his head. 'Eggbeater' what a dumbass answer for the hint 'whirlybird'.

As if the universe wanted to punish him for solving the puzzle at such a brisk pace, a pounding knock on his front door jolted his heart like an electric current. Blood rushing in his ears, he crept toward the door as quietly as his ancient floorboards allowed. Reaching his front hallway, he opened the rightmost kitchen drawer, palming the gun he stowed there and taking the last few paces to the door.

Leaving the security chain in place, figuring it would at least buy him a second to empty the clip into the intruder before they knocked him to the ground, Curtis cracked the door. Relief flooded his rigid body as he took in his visitor.

“Christ, Frank. You couldn't have called first? I was about to put a bullet in your chest,” He scoffed. Closing the door to undo the remaining lock, he yanked it open to grant the obnoxious man entry.

Rather than striding past him with his usual rageful arrogance, Frank hesitated. The moment was brief, but present enough to set off alarms in the back of Curtis' brain. Nodding tersely, Frank stepped over the threshold, allowing his friend to shut and bolt the door behind him.

The other man’s posture was tight, teeth clenched and eyes bloodshot. His clothes were rumpled and clearly a few days old. His face was pale and wan, exposing his obvious lack of sleep. Perhaps more worrisome, he hadn't even grunted in acknowledgement of Curtis' greeting.

“Where and how bad is it?” Curtis sighed, turning towards his kitchen to rummage for his first aid kit before an arm blocked his path.

“It's not—I ain’t here for a patch job, Curt.” Frank's voice was hoarse, quiet, and wrought with emotion. Meeting the Marine's unwavering gaze, Curtis took a step back.

“Then why the fuck are you turning up on my doorstep at 6am looking like flaming shit, Castle?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Frank's face fell. “Fuck, I dunno, I...I fucked up.”

Barking out a frustrated laugh, Curtis spun away from him, heading back to his seat. “Of course you did. Of fucking course you did. Too good to come to group, but you can ask me for a favor at 6am on a fucking Sunday. That's what I'm here for!” He muttered, collapsing back onto the cushioned chair behind the table.

“I'm sorry, Curt.” Frank grimaced, still standing awkwardly in the hallway. “I didn't—”

“No, you didn't.” Curtis scolded. “I know you've been through some shit, Frank, but you can't just turn your back on everyone to fuck off and go shoot a bunch of people, expecting me to help you clean it all up when it falls apart.”

“That ain't why I'm here.” Frank bristled, clenching his fists tightly.

“No? Then why are you here, Frank?” Curtis asked, irritation still coating his words.

“Because I met someone, ok?” Throwing his hands up, Frank spat out the words, a few decibels below yelling. Eyes widening as he realized what he'd admitted to, he shrunk in on himself with a flippant exhale. “I...I met someone and I don't know what to do.”

Curtis couldn't help but feel bad for the man. From where he stood a few yards away, he looked damn close to a dog that had been kicked and left to rot in the pound. Deciding to table his reprimand for later, he stretched his arm to slide out the neighboring chair.

“Coffee's in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

Frank looked slightly shocked at the change of pace, but nodded dutifully and marched to grab himself a mug before joining Curtis at the dinette. Staring intently into the reflection of the dark liquid, Frank's lips were pressed tightly together. After Curtis cleared his throat pointedly, the hulking man growled.

“What?”

“I don't know, Frank,” Curtis rolled his eyes. “You tell me! How'd an asshole like you manage to charm someone into spending a single minute with you?”

Letting out a small laugh, Frank took a generous gulp of his drink before settling back into his chair. “Beats me.“

Whether it was the strong coffee or the exhaustion eating at his brain, Curtis barely had to pry before Frank was fully immersed in the story of how you'd met. He didn't share too much about you specifically, just general information about your initial interactions and how much time you'd spent together.

“Sounds like a good deal,” Curtis hummed, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes. “How'd you fuck it up?”

Swallowing whatever apprehension he had, Frank grumbled under his breath.

“What was that, soldier?”

“I said I broke it off.”

Understanding dawning on him, Curtis nodded absently, bringing a coffee cup to his lips. “You chased her away, you mean. And now you regret it.”

Something akin to a wince flashed across Frank’s face at the accusation, but he grunted in agreement.

“Fucking hell, Frank.” Curtis laughed humorlessly. “If you liked her so much, why’d you break it off?”

Frank was silent for a moment, his jaw twitching as he contemplated his words. Curtis was familiar enough with the other man’s mannerisms to know he wasn’t avoiding the question, he just needed time to answer. Previous annoyance successfully pushed aside, he was willing to give Frank as much time as he needed. It was honestly groundbreaking that he’d come here at all, rather than continuing to slog through his own misery alone.

“How can I do that to them, Curt?” Hands circling the half empty mug, Frank sounded uncharacteristically small.

“Do what to who, Frank?”

“How can I forget about Maria and the kids?” Frank rasped, taking a sip of his drink before choking out his other question. “How can I leave them behind?”

Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, Curtis scratched at his chin. “Who’s asking you to forget, Frank?”

Growling in apparent frustration, Frank’s brow pinched in distress. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you're implying, that doesn't mean I agree with your self-deprecating bullshit.” Curtis explained, studying Frank as the man stood and began pacing.

Tugging harshly at his hair, each step conveyed Frank's restless energy. “I can't leave them behind. That's not fair. I don't...I don't deserve that.”

“Frank,” Curtis leaned forward onto the table, weight supported on his elbows. “Grief and remembrance are only part of you. Living your life is not the same as tarnishing or abandoning their memory.”

“Then why the fuck does it feel like I'm killing Maria all over again?” Frank asked, his posture haggard and face barely concealing a devastation at the thought of his wife.

“Survivor's guilt is a unique beast,” Curtis reasoned.

“Fuck's sake, man, don't give me that shit again.” Frank protested, looking away from Curtis' earnest stare and glaring towards the door, a single intrusive thought from bolting through it.

“I'm 'giving you this shit again' because you're a dead man walking, Frank.” Curtis scoffed, body tensing to prepare to dive after his friend if he fled. “All you've done since getting home is torture yourself over your losses. You are still alive, Frank. You deserve to live.”

“The fuck I do.” Frank sneered, knuckles flexing beneath his skin as he clenched his fists.

“Frank, you're an asshole, that's true,” Shoving back from the table, Curtis stood, moving as quickly as he could to block Frank's path of escape. “But you're not a bad man. What happened to your family was tragic and unfair, but it is not and has never been your fault.”

Frank opened his mouth to argue, but Curtis pointed a finger at him sternly. “Don't start with your usual crap, Castle. Deep down, you know I'm right. Isn't that why you killed all those shitbags around the city?”

Rolling his shoulders with an irritated huff, Frank settled his weight against the back of Curtis' couch, still not making eye contact.

“It's ok to miss them, Frank. To be upset about your loss. But living with one foot in your own shallow grave won't bring them back. Letting yourself have something good won't change the past. It might make you less miserable to be around, though.” Curtis raised a brow, lips curved into a smirk to indicate that he was joking. Frank snorted, mumbling something about him being a dick.

Stepping into line beside his friend, Curtis patted him on the back. “You’re human, Frank. Humans crave companionship. It's written into your biology. You don't need to beat yourself up every time you look twice at a pretty girl.”

Groaning loudly, Frank dug a fist into his left eye socket to rub at it. “It ain't that easy, Curt.”

“I fucking know that, Frank. There isn't one thing about this life that's easy. But that's a dumbass reason not to try for something decent.”

Exhaling forcefully, Frank's head bobbed in a miniscule nod. “Yah.”

“Yah?” Curtis asked, shocked that he wasn't receiving the typical brick wall of stubbornness he was used to. “Huh, don't think you've ever listened to me before.”

Frank chuckled. “Shut up.”

“So, you think she's good for you?” Curtis asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the first good thing Frank had experienced in a long time.

Blowing out a breath, a blush crawled up Frank's neck, saturating his cheeks with a pink tint. “I know she is.”

“And that scares you.” Curtis stated matter-of-factly.

Initially, Frank's posture went rigid, a scoff clearly brewing in his lungs. But, meeting Curtis' knowing gaze, he deflated and grunted in timid affirmation. “I ain’t…I hurt her, Curt. Bein’ with me, you know damn well it ain’t safe for her.”

“Because of loose ends? Or because of you?” Curtis let his question ruminate despite being pretty sure he knew the answer already.

“Both.” Frank muttered, kneading at his forehead with the heel of his hand.

Curtis pursed his lips, knowing exactly the struggle Frank was facing. After a moment, he shrugged. “Do your best to make it safe.”

“Not sure that’s possible, Curt.” Frank huffed bitterly.

“Relationships are always trade-offs, Frank. That’s just life.” The scowling Marine rolled his eyes, broad arms sliding into a defensive cross over his chest.

“And I’m supposed to be ok that? Force her to accept everythin’ I’ve done and everythin’ she’d have to deal with cause that’s ‘just life’?”

Stifling a frustrated groan, Curtis socked Frank in the shoulder. “I didn’t tell you to force her into anything. If she wants to accept it, let her. And if this is what you want, then you make it good for her. But first, for Christ's sake, apologize for the record-breaking stick up your ass.”

The corners of Frank’s mouth quirked up. “Any suggestions for that last point?”

“Shit man, if you want me to advise you on your life AND your relationship, I'm gonna need something to eat.“ Striding down the hallway and snatching his jacket from the hook on the wall, Curtis jerked his head toward the door. “C'mon, Frank. You're buying.”

Laughing genuinely, Frank shook his head. ”Alright, alright. Gonna bleed me dry over here.“

”I'm sure I wouldn't be the first,“ Curtis remarked. ”Now, how badly did you fuck up with this girl?“

Frank just grimaced, drawing a knowing laugh from Curtis. “Ok, well, hopefully we can do something about it.”

The night was damp, humid. Muggy air circulating between haphazardly mowed grass and the surrounding space, bouncing off of trees and headstones. He strode across the green carpet, through the shadows and straight for the pair of them. Each step dented the ground, the moss and dense soil clinging to the sole of his boot as he lifted it with a slight squelching noise as the suction released.

As he strode further into the cemetery, the scent of petrichor soured; rotting bodies leached into the dirt, the smell of decay seeping through the ground until it reached his nostrils. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he set his jaw–hoping the emotionless exterior would force the chaos within him to quiet down. Dancing through the jags of marble and stone, fireflies illuminated the slight hill, briefly flashing over a name or the dried stalk of a rose before disappearing.

At the base of the incline, two slabs of granite held the line. The left engraved with his name, the right with Maria’s. As he closed in on the sturdy pair, his fist clenched around the burlap cloth in his hand, rustling the mess of stems tied beneath. Kneeling between the two burial sites, Frank draped the peonies over the surface of Maria’s grave, their petals fanning out over the dew-ridden earth.

Sighing roughly, he fiddled with them, spreading out the blossoms, careful not to damage the delicate flowers with his harsh movements. His chest felt tight as he worked, quickly moving on from the bouquet to the few stray weeds trailing away from the carved rock.

“You hate this, don’t ya?” He murmured, a sad smile breaking through his stony expression. “Always on my ass for stayin’ too busy to talk things through. Drove you crazy.”

A hazy memory surfaced, a young Maria yanking a dish out of his hands as he tried to wash it, staring him down while he hung his head guiltily. He huffed out a tight laugh.

“I’m sorry, baby. Never could do right by you.” Tracing beneath the imprints on her headstone, Frank’s throat ached as he fought back the feelings of guilt and shame and despair he’d been battling for days, all of them threatening to spill over at once. “I’m so sorry, Mar.”

His fingers tightened around the marker, gripping it for dear life as his composure wore thin. “It’s been so long and I..I still miss you every day. Every damn day, baby. You’re my everythin’, ya know that?”

Drawing in a breath, he ran a hand through his hair, yanking at the grimy strands as he grappled for control. “Mar, I..I’m tired. I’m so fuckin’ tired and losin’ you..it’s eatin’ me away, baby. But I–”

His voice broke, a cracked syllable breaking off into a snarl as his fear burst forth. “I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t. I’m not– I ain’t strong enough, Mar. I can’t live without ya. Not on my own.”

A breeze ruffled through the trees beyond the cemetery border, whistling lightly as it rounded the headstone and fluttered over the satiny petals of the flowers at his feet. The weight of his existence inexplicably felt unbearable, the tension in his shoulders threatening to snap him in two. Lifting his dirt-streaked hand, his fingers landed on the thin chain hanging around his throat, fiddling with the metal until they landed on the smooth band of a wedding ring. Twisting the sanded gold between the pads of his fingers, he raised his chin, blinking rapidly at the sky to clear the moisture from his vision.

“Forgive me, baby.” Bending forward, he pressed chapped lips to the slab of granite, its chill surface intent on sapping his body heat. Sinking to his knees, his head landed against the polished stone, fingers viciously gripping handfuls of wilted sod as his emotions clobbered him.

Closing his eyes did nothing to quell the turmoil, the recesses of his mind swarming with memories. His two beautiful children, smiling wide as he returned home, their tiny arms too short to wrap completely around him when they hugged. Lisa pressed against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder as he thumbed through the pages of a weathered book. Frankie screeching out a laugh as Frank caught him by the waist during a game of catch, thwarting the boy’s attempt to dart away with the football. Maria grinning at him as he hefted all the grocery bags inside in one trip, shaking her head as she ushered him inside. The three of them piled together beneath an oversized blanket, sleeping through a particularly rough thunderstorm.

Heaving in a breath, he released the ground from his clutches, wiping his palms on his jeans as he tried to get himself under control.

“Please, Mar, please forgive me.”

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @agirlcandream84 @vsplanet @pigeonmama @silas-aeiou @frogbinch @chwlogy @valhallavalkyrie9

#frank castle #my writing #fc #gray skies #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle angst #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction

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hellfirenacht · 6 months ago

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No One Mourns The Wicked

Fic Summary: Years after the upside down, you and Eddie return to Hawkins for a small visit.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, angst, established relationship,

Word Count: 1140

Master List

You liked the sound of the crunching leaves under your feet as you and Eddie walked the graveyard outside of Hawkins. It had been years since the two of you returned, not that you two really had much of a choice in that. After the events of Vecna and the Upside Down, being in Hawkins was... complicated.

The two of you had parked a few streets away and snuck into the cemetery. It technically closed when the sun went down, but you couldn’t come during the day. It was too risky for Eddie to be seen. Even years later, the town still had signs up about Eddie the “satanic cult leader” that destroyed Hawkins. Even with his name cleared, the town still blamed him for the murders.

You swear the town got worse in the past few years.

It was a full moon, fitting for the cool October night. You almost didn’t need the flashlight you were carrying, as the moon illuminated your path down endless rows of headstones. You still kept it on for safety, and because Eddie was busy carrying the blanket and the picnic basket and you didn’t want either of you to fall.

The grave the two of you were looking for was tucked at the end of the cemetery, in a plot by a hill that not many people wandered to. You assumed because no one would want to be buried next to the man who supposedly cursed the town with his dying breath.

There were a few graves you needed to pass by before making it to your final destination. Fred’s grave had been the first one, as he’d been buried next to his grandpa near the front of the cemetery. The two of you had been silent as you laid a lily on his grave. Neither of you had known him well, but his contributions to the school paper had been entertaining at least.

Patrick’s plot was next. Even years later, people were leaving basketballs near his grave. A Hawkin’s Tigers flag was stuck in the ground next to the headstone. Neither of you knew him very well either, which only added to the complicated feelings of tonight.

“I just don’t get it.” Eddie muttered under his breath, and you reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. He squeezed back, tighter, reminding himself that you were there. You set a lily on the grave and then you two kept moving. There wasn’t a lot of time to loiter.

The penultimate grave was the nicest in the graveyard. Fred and Patrick’s seemed like an afterthought compared to Chrissy Cunningham’s. Being the face of tragedy, the town had pulled together and bought her a literal angel statue that looked over the graveyard. Her plot was spotless, and there were already fresh flowers laid at the feet of the angel. You set your lily down, while Eddie stared up at the angel that was too good and pure to even look at him.

Of the three victims of Vecna, Chrissy was the one Eddie struggled with most. How could he not? He had seen her murdered, just as the two had formed the most tentative friendship. The two of you stood under the unblinking gaze of the cold stone for a long while. You could see the ghosts of that night in his eyes, the pain and guilt eating him alive. You took his hand again, and he held onto it like a lifeline for a long while.

Eddie finally tore his gaze away from the statue, and looked at his hands as if they were the reason she was dead, and not the reason why everyone had been able to stop Vecna. He pulled off one of his rings, the cross with the skulls, and set it at the foot of the angel before turning back to you.

The normally chatty Eddie was quiet for the rest of the walk, and stopped when he saw the grave marker of your final destination. He’d seen the headstone twice now, once when the two of you were given the new paperwork, and once the night you two left Hawkins.

It was just as numbing to look at as it was that first time.

Eddie’s grave was the least kept of all of the plots in the cemetery. You were surprised that it was even still there. You’d heard that there had been protests about having his grave in the same cemetery as the others. That thought alone made your chest tight and your eyes sting.

Despite the anger inside of you, Eddie seemed more at ease now that you two were at his grave. He laid out the blanket over where his non-existent body would be buried and took the basket from you as you continued to stare at the headstone.

It was covered in graffiti, damning the man who was allegedly six feet under. Satanic symbols of sharpie and spray paint covered the headstone, and you felt your eyes start to sting with tears.

EDDIE MUNSON BURNS IN HELL.

If that was true, then your heart burned there, too.

“Hey.” His voice pulled you out of your head and you looked down at him. Eddie motioned for you to sit down and you did. Somehow he seemed less bothered by the words than you did. He pulled out the bottle of cheap wine from the basket and you watched as he uncorked it. The sound echoed through the still graveyard, and you froze for a moment, worried that someone would hear.

The night remained silent though, and Eddie took a drink directly from the bottle. No need for glasses or cups when drinking next to your own grave.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the bottle to you. His attention was now back on his grave.

“Where are you?” Eddie asked, leaning back against the headstone, looking over the barren plots around you.

You were right next to him, but felt like a million miles away. That’s not what he was asking though.

“Cremated.” you said simply, taking your own drink from the bottle. “Disappeared. Probably fell into one of the cracks when the earthquake hit. I don’t know. My body was never found.”

Eddie nodded. The two of you didn’t talk much about what you had left behind that night. “You’d think they’d at least give people a place to visit you.”

You leaned against Eddie, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You took another drink from the bottle and looked up at the stars. Despite being shoved in a corner, you think that maybe Eddie had the nicest view of the sky.

“If anyone wanted to visit my resting place, they’d visit you.” you said after a moment. “Because I’ll always be wherever you are.”

Author Notes: This was originally going to be longer but I couldn't be assed with how bad my writers block has been.

Tag List: @wheels-of-despair @ihaventgotaclue-really @crocwork-clockodile @hellfiredarling @cyanfairywren

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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