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jhkfan123 · 5 months

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you're losing me | coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x !fem reader

in which: after a work trip, y/n finds coriolanus with another woman

warnings: angst, conflict, cheating, shouting, panic attack, no happy ending (only read if you want to depressed)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i'm actually not sure where this came from but i am lowkey proud of the writing.

"you say 'i don't understand' and i say 'i know you don't'"

you were so excited to come home early. surprise him. bring home his favorite dinner for him.

you had been gone three days now. it was a trip for all the interns at the job you had been interning at. in fact, you were studying your favorite subject. you were desperately looking forward to actually starting your career with the people you were now working with. but they had let you come home a day early. because today was your birthday, and you wanted to spend it with the love of your life.

with the bag of food in your hand, you opened the door to the penthouse. it was dark out, and there were no lights on, so you flipped one on. he was not in the main room, so you placed the food on the kitchen table and began to search for him. you checked the living room, nothing, so you headed for your bedroom. from under the door, you could see that the lights were off, which had you thinking maybe he wasn't home. nevertheless, you opened the door.

you shouldn't have. you should have stayed on your regular path. you should not have come home early, then you could have lived with him blissfully unaware.

but you did. you opened the door. and you found him, with clemensia dovecote. giving her kisses in places he hadn't given you in a long time. he quickly stopped when he heard the door creak open. the two of them immediately started shuffling around, and you slammed the door. you gazed at the closed door for a moment, realizing what you had just seen. then you ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. you slid down on the door, and began to breath very heavily.

every time you tried to capture your breath, you would lose more air. every time you tried to breath in and out, in and out, in and out, you just choked. you felt warm tears stream down your cheeks, which sent you into another spiral. you ran your hands through your hair and tried to get yourself together.

you had been dating him for three years. three years. three years. and now he throws it all away? since senior year. the two of you had been dating, since before the 10th hunger games. He went away to district 12, and when he came back, he came running back to you.

you never thought this of him. he was protective, and jealous, and seemed to be obsessed with you.

on the bathroom floor, you tried to calm down. you tried the only thing you knew.

five things you can see: the floor, the sink, the toilet, the shower, the candle on the counter.

four things you can touch: the cold floor, the towel hanging low on the rack, your own arm, the drawer near you

three things you can hear: the buzz of the air conditioner, your breath, and shuffling in the hallway. that didn't help

two things you can smell: the lingering scent of the candle from when it had most recently burned, and the scent of your body wash in the shower, even though it was faint

one thing you can taste: the salty tears now running into your mouth.

you could now take slightly deeper breaths. you realized you would have to go out there soon. maybe you would wait two minutes. maybe clemensia would leave.

clemensia. you hadn't even seen her since graduation. you thought he hadn't either. clearly that was wrong.

the two of you had a strange relationship. you were always jealous of her, but for some reason, she was always jealous of you too. anything you would do, she would do better. and anything she would do, you would do better. it was a constant battle to be on top.

you thought you had won. you got the guy, the grades, the job, everything. now you weren't so sure.

you took one final deep breath, attempted to balance and get yourself up. you unlocked the door, and almost opened it. but then a knock was heard from the other side of it. you opened the door and saw coriolanus with his head down. you pushed past him and made your way for the kitchen. he began to walk behind you.

"hey, i-" you heard. you pivoted on your foot and stopped abruptly. he jumped back.

"what the fuck, coryo." was all you could get out. he winced at his nickname. "really! clemensia dovecote!" you felt tears stream down your face again.

"look, it didn't mean anything" he sighed out.

"that's all you can come up with? coryo," he looked like he hurt more each time you said his name "then why would you do it in the first place!" you shouted. you didn't mean to, but it wasn't your decision. it just happened.

"i," he began to stutter. you could tell he was trying to make up excuses.

"please don't make excuses. be an adult." you said. you closed your eyes to get the remaining tears out.

"i don't know." he responded. you sighed with immense disappointment.

"yes you do. yes you do." every time you were stressed, you had a habit of repeating yourself. it was comforting, hearing yourself. "you wouldn't-" you took a deep breath. "you wouldn't have done it if you didn't have a reason." now he took a breath.

"she had been reaching out to me a lot recently. i didn't tell you anything because i didn't think it was anything. then-"

"how long." you asked. he looked up at you as you interrupted him. "how long have you been with her." you desperately wanted to know. "how long have i only been loving half of you. how long have i only been loved by half of you" you asked.

"i swear, i swear it was only tonight." he said. that actually made it worse.

"coryo, it's my birthday." you choked on tears that were now streaming down your face again.

"i, know. i know." he seemed to be kicking himself. he attempted to get closer to you, but you backed up. now the two of you were on opposite sides on the island.

"what did i do." you asked. double the amount of tears were coming down now. "how badly did i screw up that you did this."

"you did nothing, my love. it's my-"

"do not call me that." you cut him off. he nodded in acceptance that he didn't get that right anymore. he didn't get any part of you anymore. you could have swore you say his eyes get teary, now.

"she came on to me." he explained.

"you could have got her off. but you didn't. you kissed her. and you kept kissing her. and you took your shirt off. and that's the image i walked in on. do not put this on her. yes, she shouldn't have done that, but it's your responsibility, coryo. it's your responsibility to tell her no." now a tear did stream down his face as he listened to you. "so i ask you again, what did i do?" you felt yourself getting weak. you were so disheveled and out of it that you hadn't realized how hungry you actually were.

"you didn't do anything." he responded, fairly quickly.

"then why!? why would you ever do this!" you shouted again. snot getting everywhere and your vision become more blurry with each tear.

"it just happened. you didn't do anything. and i'm a horrible person and i know this is a horrible situation and you don't deserve this at all, but please, believe me, when i tell you that i love you." the words stung you like an alcohol wipe on an open wound. the words felt like a stab in your back, like a stab in your heart.

he made his way over to you again. you were to weak to back up. you looked up at him, your vision allowing you to just barely see his silhouette.

"coriolanus, i don't even know if i can believe you anymore." you crumpled this time. the tears all came out at once. you began to sob, and then your legs gave up. you fell to the floor in agony. you felt coriolanus grab you, and you didn't move. you had no energy to. but how could he even allow himself to touch you like this?

he got down onto the floor with you, and held you around your chest while you sobbed. he didn't say anything. he was probably lost in the smoke of his guilt, that had now flooded the entire penthouse.

the warmth of his body would have normally felt comforting, like cuddling in a warm blanket. but not now. you were ice cold. shivering from your hunger, and your tears. not even the heat of his body could melt the quickly freezing heart you had for him.

it felt like hours passed before you finally managed to see your surroundings. when you managed to finally calm yourself down enough to stand, you moved yourself away from coriolanus. then you sat. both of you, at the island.

the two of you were silent. the two of you had nothing left to say. the two of you had nothing left to do. all you could do was do the next right thing. and in your mind, that was to go somewhere. anywhere but here.

"i'm leaving." you got up, took a second to gain your balance, you still hadn't eaten after all, and grabbed your bag.

"it's freezing out. please, stay." he begged. his eyes were also dried out from the tears he shed.

"i walked here, earlier. i can walk back." you replied.

"where will you go?" he asked. you thought. you had moved in with him after graduation. his home was the only one you knew for the last three years of your life.

"i'm going to go stay with a friend. and then, i am going to come back, in a few weeks, and get my stuff. move out." you laid out your plan for him. you saw another tear fall from his face.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"coriolanus, i'll be fine." you began to make your way towards the door. then, you paused. a single tear flowed down. "i will miss you, though. i hope you know that." you said. you refused to turn back. you refused to look at him. if you did, you thought you might go running back to him. if you did, you would never look away again. so you opened the door.

"i'm always going to love you. and i'm always going to be here. for you." he said. your heart begged you to look back, but you couldn't. not after that.

and, even though it slowly broke every part of you. you steadily closed the door behind you.

#jhkfan123 #tomblyth #coriolanussnow #coriolanus snow #hunger games #tom blyth #hungergames #tbosas #snow lands on top #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #im really sorry im not sure where this came from

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hayakawalove · 15 days

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I'd Wait For You

Summary: Everything is perfect between you and Suguru. It could not get any better. The universe has a funny way of doing things though. How do you cope once Suguru gets taken away from you? Will Suguru be able to move onto the afterlife, or will he stay by your side? A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing angst. Haven't done it too much. Please ignore the inaccuracies of the medicine, it won't be perfect. Comments always appreciated!

CW: SFW, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death (not reader), Grief/Mourning, Afterlife, Depression, Medical, Car Accidents, Sad, Fucked up but honestly not too bad

W/C: 6,584

Suguru hadn’t known love until he first met you.

Everything that led up to you was somehow minuscule compared to the emotions that coursed through his veins whenever he saw you. He wasn’t aware of how fast a heart could beat, how his lungs could falter from merely being in the presence of another person. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done to achieve someone like you. We were made for each other, you always told him. In his opinion, he believed he was made for you. Crafted and designed to love you. Not because you needed to have someone like him, but because he needed someone like you. Someone to care for and love.

It was your birthday, and just like he had done every year before this, Suguru was planning on making your dinner. He liked doing it, it made him feel like he was doing something right. It was the least he could do for you, after everything you’ve done for him. He thinks you don’t even know the half of it.

“Shit.” Suguru murmurs under his breath as he searches the freezer. He could have sworn he bought the meat for tonight, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Did you find it yet?” He hears your voice call from the couch.

He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you that no, he hadn’t found it. His lip twitches as he pushes aside all the useless ingredients, looking in places he had already checked three times over.

Suguru is so focused on the fridge in front of him that he doesn’t even hear your feet padding into the kitchen.

Tender hands wrap around him from behind, yanking him from his despair. When he looks over his shoulder he sees you behind him, peeking over with curious eyes.

“I'm sorry baby.” He speaks quietly, turning around to the fridge again.

He shuts the freezer and faces you, taking you into his arms. It’s nice like this, having you pushed up against him. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you.

“What’re you sorry for?” You ask.

You reach your hands up and place a palm on either side of his face. Your mouth drops open as you hold him.

“Suguru, you’re freezing.” You scold. “How long were you looking in there?”

He hadn’t realized how cold he was until your warm fingers pressed into his cheek. He nuzzles against you and allows his lids to flutter closed, indulging in the warmth you provide.

“Only a little bit.” He says. He would rather die than tell you he’s been here for ten minutes.

“No luck though, huh?” You don’t seem sad when you ask this, and Suguru can’t figure out why.

He feels like he ruined your birthday.

“Unfortunately no, but I’m gonna go head down to the store to pick it up. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“I don’t want you to go, though!”

You have an exaggerated frown playing on your lips as you tug his arm.

“Baby, you need food. I promise it’ll be-“

“Why don’t we go out to eat?” You propose.

He’s looking at you with raised brows, watching partly in amusement. It wasn’t an awful idea, but he much rather preferred to cook for you himself. It was like a gift that way, although he bought you plenty of those too. He nearly felt giddy at the idea of how you would react to each present, all hiding in various places around the house. You always told him he didn't have to get you anything, so he had to get creative in his hiding spots.

“What, you hate my cooking?” He jokes, pulling back to straighten your clothes.

At first you would snap at him when he mindlessly groomed you like this, but you had gotten used to it. It was just another avenue for him to show his love, fixing your attire like a mother would.

“Ugh, it’s the worst!” You joke back.

Both of you were well aware of how much you loved his cooking.

“A shame.” He murmurs.

“We never go out, it’s been ages since we’ve gone somewhere nice. Don’t you think it would be fun? That way, you wouldn’t have to slave over the stove for me.”

“But what if I want to slave over the stove for you?”

“There will always be another time.” You squeeze his arm.

You’re right. He can always do it for you for your next birthday.

“If you say so.” Suguru presses his lips against yours.

~~~

It’s a chilly night, the black sky above you providing no heat as you head out of the restaurant. You’re cradling your stomach as if you were 8 months pregnant, while one of your arms is wrapped around his. You’re chattering his ears off, but Suguru doesn’t mind. The night felt perfect, he wasn’t sure how it could get any better.

The two of you are making your way to your parked car, not in a rush. You have all the time in the world. You’re strumming his hand as you talk, only letting go when he pulls your door open for you.

Suguru crosses the car and slides into the driver's seat, not backing out until your seat belt is on. The drive is calming, your windows rolled down to let in the night air as you quietly sing along to the radio.

“Was it a good birthday?” Suguru asks, tossing a look your way before focusing on the road.

“It was perfect.” You promise, your eyes twinkling.

Suguru starts to think about which gift he wants you to open first.

“Hey Suguru?” You ask.

“Yeah?” Suguru looks up from the wheel to see your face.

Your brows are furrowed together as you look forward. Something wasn’t right.

“What is that guy doing?” You speak quietly.

Suguru turns his head forward, his foot on the brake as the car sits at a red light. There’s another car in front of you, driving towards you. He isn’t slowing down for the light, and Suguru can feel his pulse pick up.

“I don’t-“ Suguru starts.

The driver presses on the gas even harder, his car jerking, now hurdling in your direction. Suguru only has half a second to throw his arm across your front, shoulder covering part of your body.

…

Love makes you do crazy things.

Love can make you feel unstoppable.

Love can make you cover your partner in a car accident without a second thought.

The movies never get it right, Suguru thinks. People always talk about the pain, how much it hurts. But Suguru doesn’t feel pain. He doesn’t feel anything. He wishes it was more accurate, that way he could have been prepared.

It was loud, so loud.

Metal on metal, tires screeching. It also smelled. Gas, fire, and burning something. Was it plastic? He had never smelled something so atrocious. Suguru turns his head to locate you and sees you motionless, your beautiful lids fluttered shut. Is that blood? Something’s reflecting on your forehead and he hopes to god it’s not blood.

He attempts to say your name, but nothing comes out. It’s as if his voice box has been completely removed, leaving a gaping hole in his throat. His fingers twitch as he tries to move to help you.

Move, move.

He’s begging his useless body to do something, anything. It’s never cooperated with him, lest of all when he needs it most.

Suguru thinks he hears yelling. Was that a woman? It’s a voice he’s never heard before, and she’s saying something he can’t quite decipher. His head is spinning as he tries to focus on the voice, but it isn't easy. It's all becoming overwhelming, each of his senses being amplified. The sight and sound alone was enough to leave him breathless.

Red lights.

Cops.

No, not cops.

An ambulance.

He hopes it’s an ambulance. You really needed one.

Suguru tries to focus as he strains his ears to listen for your breathing. He could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier, his sheer willpower being the only thing keeping him awake. There’s more tires screeching and the ambulance has arrived, heavy footfalls running to your car.

Good.

Help is here.

It would all be alright.

Everything would be fine.

~~~

When his eyes open, he sees white. He must have been in a hospital, the clinical setting surrounding him. No one was in his room. Not even you. You were in worse shape from what he remembers, so he understands.

He isn’t in as much pain as he would’ve expected from being in a car accident, but he’s glad. Suguru looks down and wiggles his fingers, then his toes. Good. He isn’t missing anything. He knows you would’ve taken care of him if he was missing something, but he would rather soon die than make you do something like that.

Suguru sits up and notices he isn’t attached to any monitors, which is odd. He figures he probably didn’t need them though, so he quickly pushes the thought aside. He might as well look for you since he was able. You could have been really hurt, and he wouldn’t have been able to rest until he learned where you were.

The hospitals halls are a scary place, even for Suguru. He knows many great things happen in hospitals, but there’s also a lot of tragedy too. He tries not to think about all the death as he walks down the halls. There are nurses and doctors pushing past him, paying him no mind. They were busy. He could see it in their droopy eyes as they locate room numbers and run to codings.

He finds the nurses station and speaks up, finding two women sitting at the desks.

“Excuse me?” He says.

Nothing.

Weird.

“Uh, I’m looking for someone.”

Suguru says your name, but neither of them turn to him.

Okay, maybe they were too engrossed in their conversation.

His eyes flick down where he sees a chart, and at the very top of the list was your name. Room A93. That wasn’t too far from here.

He spares them one last glance before turning around to locate your room. His heart flutters (not in the good way) when he gets closer to the door. Could he handle seeing you hooked up to a million monitors? Could he handle seeing other people take care of you? Suguru pushes through it. He needs to see you. He comes to a stop outside your room and hears voices coming from inside, talking to you.

“And where is Suguru?” He picks up on your voice, the sound instantly warming his heart.

“He’s… not in good shape.”

He wasn’t?

He felt great.

Suguru pokes his head around the door and finds a tall woman with tanned skin and long dark hair. She must be the doctor.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

The doctor straightens, tired eyes looking up at you.

“He was intubated, he lost a lot of blood and sustained a head injury. My team had to put him in a medically induced coma. I actually was coming here to talk to you about whether or not he wanted to be on life support.”

What?

“I'm sorry, what are you talking about?” Your body is turned towards her, anticipation leaking from your pores.

“You’re married, aren’t you? I trust that the two of you have gone over it?”

You haven't looked his way, not even once.

“Let me see him.” You’re sitting up, wobbling as your frail body attempts to hold you up.

You don’t see him right now?

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea.” The doctor comments, her voice heavy as if she knows something you don’t.

“Please.”

The doctor softly sighs and dips her head once, acknowledging your desperation. She relents, aiding you in getting up. You can’t do it on the first try, your face wincing in pain as you ease yourself off the bed. The doctor is patient as she helps you, because of course she is.

Suguru follows you to his room, throat dry as he stares at the IV stand in your hands. What was happening?

“Suguru?” His heart shatters at the way your voice cracks.

He turns the door and comes to a halt behind you, looking over your shoulder. He was looking at himself. His motionless body was laying in the hospital bed, looking more helpless than he had ever felt in his whole life.

“What happened?” You ask, your eyes never leaving his bed.

“There was an accident. I was told that he took the brunt of the crash to cover you. He’s not…” The doctor looks anxiously between you and him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

The room is quiet, eerily so as you process the news the doctor gave you. There’s a steady beeping sound coming from behind his body, the only sign of life. By all accounts, he looked dead. Suguru flicks his eyes up and notices a brain monitor attached to him, but the line was flat. How was that possible? Was he in some space between life and death right now?

You rip the IV from your arm and run up to the bed, collapsing beside his body. Suguru can see blood begin to pool from your forearm, dark red trickling down your wrist as you force yourself against his bed.

“Suguru! Wake up!” You’re shaking his body, voice trembling and loud as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

He doesn’t wake up. His useless body doesn’t even flinch.

“You asshole! Wake up!” You’re in hysterics as you shake him, and Suguru feels himself choke on a tear.

“We need to discuss-“ The doctor starts.

“Don’t do this to me! You gotta wake up!”

Suguru is beside you now, standing above your crumbled form. You’ve never looked so small before. Your tears are staining the sheets beside his body as you hold his hand, your other arm clawing at his chest. Suguru can’t tell which hurts more, watching himself or looking at you.

He needs to comfort you.

He needs to make you smile.

But he can’t. He can’t do anything. Suguru is forced to stand by your side as you cry until you lose your voice, until all of your words blur together and no one can understand what you’re saying.

The doctor stays with you the entire time, remaining quiet as you sob. She wanted to comfort you, but she also needed an answer. And the truth of the matter was, Suguru never wanted to be on life support. It was a discussion you had early on in your marriage. He didn't want to be a burden. You respected his decision at the time, never in a million years thinking you would have to uphold his choice.

~~~

It’s raining the day they pull the plug on Suguru. He always did like the rain. It made for perfect nights in with a warm drink and his favorite book. Obviously with you by his side. That’s not what he’s thinking about when he sees the sky the day he dies. All he can think about is how your tears match the droplets, how god must be crying for you. He hated it. You said it was fitting. It was one of the only things you said on that day.

Suguru watches as his body gets whisked away, he told himself he couldn’t watch the embalming process, but when it happens he can’t look away. It felt unreal. His body was cold to the touch, pale as it lay on the metal table. He didn't look real. He watches with curious eyes as they pump him full of fluids in an attempt to immortalize his youth and beauty. He overhears the morticians talking. Not even thirty years old, they mumble. All Suguru can think about is how you weren’t even thirty. The word ‘widow’ was meant for older people whose partners died in natural circumstances, not for someone like yourself. Plump cheeks and a full life ahead of you.

It’s sunny when his funeral is held. He’s glad for that, he dreaded the idea of you waiting out in the cold. You sit in the front with Satoru. Suguru expected you to be a wreck, you were at the hospital after all. But you aren’t. You sit quietly as each person speaks, your chin tucked into your chest. Your eyes are glassy as you listen. You were checked out. He wanted to take a peek into your brain to see what memory you were reliving. Was it the time you both vacationed in the Bahamas? Or was it when you talked for hours about your favorite book? Those were his favorite memories, but he didn't know yours. He never thought to ask before. Now he wouldn’t have the chance to.

You refuse to let anyone help you make it home, I’m fine you said. You weren’t fine. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. All the people surrounding you tried to offer words of comfort, promises to help falling from their lips. You wave them off as you set off down the sidewalk towards your apartment. You hadn’t been in a car since the incident.

The second you close your front door you collapse onto your floor, your knees hitting the ground with a hard thud. You let out the most ear piercing wail. Suguru didn’t know people were capable of making noises like that. He didn’t have a body anymore, but he swore he felt chills creep over his skin.

You keep screaming, and screaming, and screaming. Suguru hears a loud pounding and turns his head to the door. Someone was here. The pounding resumes and he hears his best friend call out, trying to get your attention. You aren’t listening. You don’t care about anything outside these four walls.

Satoru twists the knob hoping by some miracle it would unlock. Unfortunately, you had the foresight to lock the door before falling to pieces. Satoru relents in using the knob and tries bumping the door with his shoulder. It takes him a couple of tries before it splinters open. He's out of breath as he looks down at your figure. Your crumpled figure.

Leave it to Satoru to follow you to ensure you got home safely. Suguru tells himself to repay Satoru, buy him that soda he likes, but then he remembers. He will never be able to repay him for anything again.

He hopes a token of his gratitude is enough.

You don’t register that Satoru is even there until he’s kneeling beside you, holding your body close to his. You thrash a bit, shoving him back but he doesn’t budge. Satoru takes it all, even though it hurts.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” He murmurs quietly to you.

“He's gone! He's gone!” You’re heaving into the air, letting him rock you back and forth.

“I know. I know.”

“He's never coming back, Satoru!”

You breathe in deeply, your chest sore from the meltdown.

“Bring him back! Please, please Satoru!”

Satoru grits his jaw as he holds you tight. It must be hard. Suguru mourns the loss of himself through you. He can feel the pain you’re in, it feels like a forest fire as it claws into him.

You’re scratching at Satoru, as if you could dig your way back to Suguru.

Suguru has never felt so helpless before. How do you help someone when they’re mourning the loss of the love of their life? How do you console them when they will never see them again? How could he make you feel better?

He can’t do anything. He's an outsider in his own home, watching the people who were closest to him.

Satoru grips you as you sob, occasionally rocking your frame back and forth. He doesn’t say anything. There really isn't anything to say. The living room quiets down as your screaming becomes sniffling. Suguru doesn’t know how much time has passed. Satoru refuses to let go until he feels your breathing slow down, your body going limp in his hold.

Satoru never leaves. He just sets you on your bed before making his way to the couch. He looks just as fucked up as you do. Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend in such a bad state before. Eyes that had previously been so bright were now dull, his lips tugged down into a deep frown. Satoru slides onto the couch, his eyes shutting the second he makes contact.

Suguru takes turns watching the two of you sleep. It breaks his heart. Never again will he feel the warmth of your sleeping figure beside him. Never again will he wake up before you to start your breakfast.

Things are awkward between you and Satoru in the morning. Neither of you know how to approach the subject.

Satoru is the first to talk. He always was the talker.

“Good morning.”

Your eyes flick to him, almost as if you were expecting him to stay the night. Satoru looks uncomfortable, which is a first.

“I uh, I'm gonna pick up breakfast. Do you want anything?” He goes on.

A moment passes before you speak. When your voice comes out it's brittle, harsh in a way Suguru has never heard before.

“I'm fine.”

The hours of screaming must have caught up to you.

“Yeah, alright.”

Satoru is scratching the back of his neck, a tell that Suguru learned years ago. He has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it.

“I really think you should eat something.”

“Satoru.”

Satoru steps back as if the tone of your voice wounded him.

“Okay. I’ll back off. I’ll bring back something for you to drink at least.”

Satoru doesn’t ask so you don’t have the chance to deny him. You watch as he exits your apartment, your gaze fixed on your broken door.

Satoru calls repairmen to handle the door while he’s out. It doesn’t take them long at all to fix the damage he dulled out the prior night.

When Satoru comes back he has two drinks and two bags in his hands. He bought something for you to eat in the end. Satoru rings the doorbell and waits for you.

You never come.

He knows you’re home, because where else would you be?

He stands there for thirty minutes before he takes the hint that you don’t want to be seen.

Suguru wishes he could curl up in on himself at the sight of his best friend looking so dejected as he leaves. Satoru was making an effort. Suguru doesn’t blame you though. He never could. If he was in your position, Suguru wouldn’t stop until the whole world around him was burned to the ground, he wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.

Satoru comes back hours later to drop off dinner and notices that the bag of breakfast he left for you is still in the same place. You hadn’t touched it. He leaves dinner for you as well, hoping by some chance that you’ll actually eat something.

~~~

Satoru stands at your door, a bag in his hands as he tries to keep up a smile. Suguru can tell it’s a hard task, he’s always been able to look right through his best friend.

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and Satoru has stopped by every single day.

Satoru says your name again, rocking back on his heels. He’s been here for two hours. Suguru knows because he’s seen him check his phone five times. One of your neighbors comes out and greets Satoru, smiling once he gives her attention. The two had been acquainted because he had visited so often. Satoru didn’t mean to seduce the older woman, but it just came with the territory of being a beautiful man.

“Hey Ms. Nakamoto!”

“Hello sweetie.”

“I brought you something.” Satoru searches the bag he’s holding and produces a wrapped piece of chocolate.

Suguru knows Satoru didn’t bring it for her, but that he couldn't bear the thought of not giving her something.

“You’re so kind, Satoru.” Ms. Nakamoto squeezes Satoru’s shoulder before walking off, popping the chocolate in her mouth.

Satoru watches her leave with a smile plastered on his face. It feels genuine in the same way a waitress's smile is genuine when she’s working.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Satoru calls, resting his shoulder against the door.

You’re standing on the other side of the door, staring into the wood as if you’d be able to see Satoru if you look hard enough.

Suguru doesn’t understand why would don’t want to see Satoru.

He wonders if it’s because Satoru reminds you of him. Suguru would understand, the two have always been inseparable. It was never that way for you, though. You never saw Satoru and thought of Suguru in the past. It was one of the many things he liked about you. He felt like he could be his own person around you. He wonders if the lines are blurred now that he was gone.

“I know you’re there.” Satoru says, leaning against his forearm.

“Why won’t you let me in?” He waits for a moment until you respond.

“I don’t want to.”

“I brought snacks.”

“I don’t care.”

Suguru’s heart breaks. You look like a mess, your hair was piled on top of your head and you were wearing the same clothes you had been wearing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It was one of Suguru’s shirts, the clothing wrapped around your body as if it was a cocoon. You had been wearing it for so long that the smell of his cologne was starting to fade away. You cried for four hours the night you realized.

Neither of you talk or move for that matter, intent on waiting it out to see who would break first. You have something on your mind, Suguru can tell you’re holding back.

“Why did he do it?” You ask, your voice muffled through the door.

You know Suguru as much as Satoru does, but Suguru supposes there’s a sense of relief from the company.

“You know why he did it. He loved you.” Satoru responds, his voice more level than Suguru had ever heard it.

“He wouldn’t have been able to stand himself if he didn’t save you.” Satoru finishes.

You and Satoru both turn around and slide your backs against the door till your butts hit the floor.

You’re separated by a piece of wood, yet it feels like you’re miles away. Even though you felt so far apart, the two of you were the only ones on the planet who understood each other.

“He’s selfish.” You say, and Suguru thinks you mean to have a bite to it, but it comes off much more heartbroken.

“What makes him selfish?”

“He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he let me die, so he’s making me live without him instead. Why didn’t he care that it would hurt me?” You question.

Satoru’s silent as he listens. He’s good at that, although he talks a lot. Suguru is glad you have someone to talk to who listens when you need it.

“I think he did care.” Satoru says, looking at his legs. “He just loved you too much to stop himself.”

“It was my fault, you know.” You start.

“I was the one who suggested going out.”

Satoru is silent as he listens and Suguru feels like he’s been shot. You were blaming yourself? If Suguru could talk to you, he would reassure you that you had nothing to do with what happened.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Satoru says, unsure of how else to comfort you.

Nothing he could say would take the pain away, he was aware of that much.

Suguru is on your side of the door, watching as your lip starts to tremble. You must be sick of being alone. You slowly stand up and reach for the door, opening it much to Satoru’s surprise. He nearly falls back before hopping to his feet, facing you.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, knowing the answer.

~~~

Ever since the night you let Satoru in, you welcome him in. Suguru thinks it's nice, watching the two of you talk. He’s glad you’re opening up to someone. It’s not good to keep it all in, and Suguru couldn’t stand the idea of you shutting down completely.

In the beginning, Satoru would sit on the furthest end of the couch, but over time he slowly inched closer until the two of you were sitting next to each other. It didn't matter what you talked about. It was always different. Usually it was about Suguru.

“He waited until the sun set and it was dark out. I didn't really understand why. Anyway, he got on one knee and when I turned around he had the ring out.”

“It was because of the people I’m sure. Suguru was a private guy.”

You’re picking at a loose thread on the couch, quietly listening to Satoru.

“I helped him pick out the ring, you know. He was so indecisive. There were two options we narrowed it down to, he ended up asking all your friends what they thought you would like more.”

Suguru sees your shoulders shake and he thinks for a second you’re crying, but when you lift your head up he sees a tiny grin on your face.

“He’s ridiculous. Would’ve loved anything he got.”

“I know. He only wanted the best, though.”

Suguru loves to listen to the two of you talk, but he loves the silence you share just as much. Satoru always used to dread silence. Suguru thinks you’re bringing him down to earth. It’s nice. Suguru didn't think it was possible.

“It’s hard. I can't sleep.” You confess to Satoru late at night.

“Why is that?” Satoru asks, but you know he knows the answer.

“It’s impossible without him.”

You aren’t aware, but Suguru is there each time you lay down. Sometimes he’ll lay beside you, but he rarely does. You always get a chill when he tries, so instead he sits across the room, listening to your breathing. He’s always loved the sound, but he finds he appreciates it more so now.

“If you ever need company, I could spend the night on the couch again.”

“Really?”

You’re trying not to sound eager, Suguru can tell. He grins to himself as he watches your face light up.

“I'd just have to bring over spare clothes, but I can.”

People on the outside may think that something was blossoming between you and Satoru, but Suguru knew better. Satoru would never cross that line. At times, Suguru almost wished he would. He wanted you to find happiness again. And truly, who better to give it than Satoru? The two were so alike that Suguru knew you would be happy. But you wouldn’t do that to Satoru. You wouldn’t want him to feel like a placeholder. Suguru doesn’t know how Satoru feels, but he knows how you feel enough to be positive that nothing was starting between you.

Satoru sleeps on your couch that night. Suguru notices it’s the first time you’ve slept through the entire night in weeks. You don’t wake up even once, not even when Suguru slides into bed beside you.

Suguru keeps his eyes on you the whole night, mesmerized by the features on your face. You were so beautiful. He should’ve told you more often.

~~~

It was going okay. Suguru thought you were healing. One night you have a terrible nightmare. He watches you in horror as you thrash and scream, wishing he could reach out to touch you.

“Help! Help!”

Satoru is in your room moments later, holding your body against his. You twitch in his hold, body shaking in fear. Your eyes flutter open and you have to hold onto Satoru for several moments before you understand where you are.

“It was just a dream.” Satoru speaks quietly to you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks once you understand what’s happening. You have a tight grip on Satoru’s arms, as if they could keep you from floating away.

“I was- Suguru, he, we needed,”

“It was just a dream.” Satoru says once more.

It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was the accident. The scenes were flashing in your brain, plaguing you with memories. Suguru wishes it was a dream. The worst was already over, only now you were left trying to pick up the pieces.

Satoru sleeps on your floor each night afterward. Always beside the bed, ready in case you have another nightmare. No matter what, he never leaves.

Each time you had a nightmare, Satoru would reach his hand up and squeeze yours, reminding you that the worst part was over. He pretends not to see the scars your fingernails leave in his skin.

~~~

Suguru watches as you experience life. Finding your first gray hair, he was even there when you bought your first new car. They were all things he should have been experiencing with you, if only he was alive.

If you asked Suguru the day he died if he regretted his decision to cover you in the accident, he would say no in an instant. It was the same now, all these years later.

You never move on from him, not really at least. There were men that passed through your life, but you never marry again.

Suguru wanted you to find love again, but you were always more stubborn than he knew what to do with.

And when the time came for you to pass, he was there too. The hospital room didn't feel the same as his did, yours was much more warm and happy. That was what it was supposed to be like when you lived a full life. All of your loved ones gathered around you, crying as they held you. You don’t cry. You’re ready. You’ve been preparing for it for a while now. You have weathered skin and a full heart. You have smile lines now, and Suguru thinks you’ve never looked more perfect.

Suguru stands by the door, watching as everyone says their goodbyes. He feels tears begin to drip from his eyes. He knows it only means he gets to see you sooner, but he’s mourning your death just as much as he would if he was alive. He wanted you to continue living. You still had so much to experience, Suguru wanted you to have it all.

The last member of your family leaves the room, but you have one visitor left. The doctor smiles at the visitor before pulling the door closed behind the two of you, giving you privacy.

“Thank you, darling.” Satoru says, smiling at her.

The door shuts and Satoru is hobbling over to you, lowering himself down next to your bed. He's in relatively good condition for someone of his age.

“Hello.” He squeezes your hand, if Suguru looks close enough he can still see the crescent shaped marks caused by your nails on his hands.

Scars proving your love of Suguru on another man’s body.

“You’re here.” You speak.

“Of course I’m here.”

The room is silent as Satoru takes in your presence. The air is heavy, partly from sadness, but also from the memories and love everyone had left you with. You had lived a long life.

“Are you excited to see him?” Satoru asks.

You look down and fiddle with your ring, the same ring Suguru had picked out all those years ago.

“I am.”

“When you see him tell him I said hi.” Satoru could say much more than that, maybe even a joke from his childhood, but more than anything he just missed his friend.

“I will, I swear.”

“I can’t believe the two of you are going before me.” Satoru’s messing with you now, Suguru walks closer so he can catch the glint in Satoru’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry, your time is coming.” You chuckle to yourself.

“Is that a threat?” Satoru leans in close to you, the act intimate in a way that only appears between friends that have endured years of life together.

“Maybe. I think I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” You tease.

“I hope you do.” Satoru’s tone is heavier as he speaks, a nugget of honesty leaking through.

“Thank you for being so good to me Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as you were there for me.” Regret is dripping from your words.

“I know you’re dying, but have you gone senile? You helped me as much as I helped you.” Satoru looks at you in disbelief.

It was true. You had helped Satoru. It wasn’t in the same way he helped you, but instead you provided him multiple chances to relive his childhood. That was worth more than anything in the world to Satoru.

Satoru rubs his thumb along your hand. He sits with you through the silence. He's there with you as the doctor comes back in, voice soft as she asks you if you’re ready. You are, you have been for a long time. Satoru holds your hand, he doesn’t leave as the doctor turns off all the technology that’s assisting you in staying alive.

Suguru would stay, but he has a date he can’t miss.

When you die, everything is empty around you. Your old body is inching by, walking aimlessly.

“Sweetheart.” A voice like velvet fills your ears.

You whip around, jaw and eyes wide open as you come face to face with the love of your life.

“Suguru!” You cry.

Suguru’s smile is relaxed on his face as he walks up to you, embracing you once more. He could finally touch you. He had been dreaming of this moment for years.

The second his skin hits yours, it's like a ripple effect. Your skin slowly rejuvenates, your body regressing until it resembles what it looked like the night he died. You were young again.

Suguru holds you for what feels like eternity before you pull away. He tries not to frown, reminding himself that he can touch you again whenever he feels like it now.

“I missed you!” Your lash line is holding on a thin thread, tears welling up, nearly pouring out.

Suguru doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t think he can put into words how much he missed you.

“Oh, and Satoru said-“

“Hi, I know. I heard him.” Suguru reaches a hand up and skims your cheek with his thumb.

He no longer feels cold.

“You heard him? You were there?”

“Of course I was. I always was.”

Suguru chuckles to himself at the expression on your face. It's a shock, for sure. You had no reason to believe he stayed with you. Suguru could have moved on at any point in time, but he wouldn’t. Not without you by his side.

“I love you.” He says it the same way he used to say it, and you finally break down.

Tears stream down your face as you pull him in for a kiss.

“Come on, let’s make up for all the lost time.” Suguru murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arm around yours.

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literaila · 1 year

Text

untrustworthy

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

"are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

warnings: angst, alludes to depression, lost of interest, pushing people away, this is a pining fic because they’re not actually together, angst, fluff at the end, peter sucks but he’s also great?

a/n: i haven’t written anything in weeks and this is so terrible but take it or leave it. i am.

if you've learned anything in the past year, it's that you couldn't trust peter parker.

you couldn't trust him to finish his portion of your shared slideshow for your physics class. and you shouldn't have trusted him to tell you if he couldn't get it done before the due date--sparing you both from the wide-eyed, slightly over-amused gazes of classmates who thought peter's "the end" slide was purely a comedic stroke, and not just laziness, or a miserable attempt to pretend he hadn't cost you thirty percent of your grade.

and even after, you couldn't trust him not to give you a look--his signature look--sending you plummeting towards forgiveness before he'd even gotten the chance to apologize.

you couldn't trust peter parker to pick up a mutual friend's birthday cake or get himself home safely without cracking his glasses, or not to eat all of the cookies that may made for you on his way to your apartment. you wouldn't trust him to wash your dishes or sleep on your couch without burning the entire building down.

it was a dangerous thing, you'd realized, about three months after you'd met him, to try and count on him.

peter parker would borrow a pen from you, flicking his hair your way and smiling that charming smile, and then proceed to give it back to you at your thirty-year reunion. or never.

you'd learned not to expect him to show up for anything on time, ask him to pick anything up for you, or let him do laundry in your apartment.

peter parker was anything but dependable. and if you could give the past version of yourself any advice, it would be not to trust him.

not to let that foolish hope exist before it was crumbled between strong hands like a grocery receipt, never to be seen again.

you wouldn't let that faded, reliable version of peter exist.

you couldn't trust peter parker to do anything or make any promise he would actually keep.

you couldn't even trust him to stay away from you when you wanted space the most; like now.

because as soon as you heard that knock on your door, a bitter part of you was scowling at the intrusion, cursing your friend for bothering to exist or always showing up when you didn't want him to.

and you knew that just like every other thing peter did, he wouldn't take no for an answer. even if you didn't answer the door. even if you threw your phone down into the garbage disposal.

you were pretty sure peter could pick a lock. and also slightly suspicious that he'd had a copy of your key made behind your back.

so when peter walks into your living room, hair dripping from the rain, arms full of grocery bags, you aren't surprised.

you barely even blink at him before returning your attention to your tv, where a couple was viciously debating the cost of crown molding.

his presence is its own curse because you can feel every movement he makes, just like always.

"hey," peter says, smiling evilly. he ignores your ignoring. doesn't even mind the fact that you haven't looked at him. "i brought you some stuff."

he kicks his shoes off--into your living room, of course, mud sticking to your carpet--and heads to the kitchen.

"just some basics," he continues, not bothering to listen to any reply, verbal or not. "bread, eggs, milk. i got you some disgusting orange jello and a couple of those pre-made sandwiches they make at the deli. they're a bit... flat, but they should be okay still."

you turn the volume up.

peter doesn't mind. "there's also some protein bars in there--chocolate--just in case you want something quick," he walks back into the room, holding a glass bottle. "and i saw this banana-flavored soda when i was walking out, for us to try and throw up together."

he shakes the bottle around, smile on his idiotic face, not even bothering to think about the harsh reality of carbonation.

"open that over the sink," you mumble to him, still not meeting his eyes.

you curse your weak willpower for ruining your silent game. and peter, for knowing that he would win eventually.

peter tilts his head, tsking at you. "not even a thank you for your very thoughtful, handsome--" he plops down next to you, moving your legs so that he can tickle your feet. "and genius best friend?"

"thanks, peter."

instead of looking over at the man who was definitely trying to get you to yell at him, you choose to watch the ceiling on the tv crumble over brand-new hardwood.

you frown.

peter runs his hand up your calf, goosebumps riding his wake. "are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

"no, turkey."

"then no."

peter removes his hand. "what's wrong with the bologna?"

"they put rat poison in it."

peter pokes your thigh. "and you've been letting me eat it? you know i love those sandwiches."

you turn even further on your side, wall going up between the two of you, forcing his hand off, mumbling, "wanted to test a theory."

"what theory?"

finally, your eyes meet his--stupid brown, caring, auburn, and hateful eyes. "if rat poison would kill you or not."

peter scoffs.

you let your lip quirk up, irritated at his perfect mouth and thoughtful grocery list, and warm hands climbing up your stomach, and then look away. back to the house infested with termites. if there's anything to hate, it's adoration. the ridiculous attachment you have to him, even now.

"are you calling me a vermin?"

you roll your eyes. "well, you're not dead so..."

and it was all normal. peter sitting this close and trying to mold himself into your skin, the puppy eyes he was trying to give you, and his devious smirk. his teasing and lack of common sense, his stupid jokes, and stupid thoughtfulness, ruining the silent treatment you'd meant to give him. the space you'd been forcing between the two of you.

it was all normal, but you can feel him lurking, waiting for a moment to say something. you can feel him staring at you.

"what?" you say, sharp and rough, after thirty seconds of it being too much. of peter being too close and too quiet.

his presence is a burden on your heart.

peter's hands began to massage your legs, forcing you to let him in closer than you want him to be. "what, what?" he repeats.

your eyes meet his with defenses already prepared. "what are you doing here, peter?"

the words are weapons. one punch to the jaw and a knife shoved into his back.

you're trying to get him off of you, get him out that door and back into the world where he belongs so that you could stay here and rot, just like you want to.

but peter's eyes stay soft, his hands are kind and his intent is obvious. he isn't trying to fight with you.

he blows out a breath. "what're you doing here?"

you both stare at each other for a moment and then you look away, shaking your head. "i live here."

"you know that's not what i mean."

"do i?" you ask, voice sarcastic and mean. and it would be fine--usually. you and peter are mean to each other for sport.

but he wasn't being anything but easy. careful as he stretched your muscles out like he could tell that you hadn't used them in days.

trust peter to break your only rule.

it was silent again; only the sounds of commercials in the background, a woman swearing that aleve changed her life.

peter clears his throat. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"lost my phone."

"and class?"

"i've been sick."

"you missed an exam," he pushes. "you're gonna have to make it up."

"already emailed connaly."

"good." peter swallows, and you can feel his pounding, his questions even when he's not asking them.

you want to push him off of the couch. you want to push him off of you, leave bruises from the fall, and tell him to find someone who can be his friend. who can do this.

you want to be understanding, and as careful as he is. you love him enough to not scream, even if you want to.

"peter, i really just want to be alone, so--"

"when's the last time you ate?"

you sigh, pulling away from him.

but peter has a firm hold on your legs, and even if you tried, you couldn't kick him away.

"when was the last time you showered?"

"i've been sick, peter, it doesn't--"

"left the house?" he prods. "or moved from the couch? when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"

you sit up, looking at him without meeting his eyes. "you should go. i could still be contagious." the words are tense, your face is stone, unmoving, and unwilling to do any of this with him.

peter moves closer to you, his hands lingering just inches away from your marble face. "what's going on?" he asks, so softly that you can barely feel it on your plastered skin.

his concern and care, his stupid face and stupid eyes and--

"i can't do this, peter."

"you need to talk to me," he says, without even processing what you've said. "you need to tell me what's happening because it's been almost two weeks since i've seen you, and this..." he gestures around the room.

a place that used to be your home.

"what happened?"

and if anyone could get it out of you--pull the secrets you have hidden in your chest, ignoring your screams of pain--it would be peter. he would be the person that you talked to.

that is if you wanted to talk at all.

if you wanted to move from his couch and look into his eyes like you had been for months before this. like he was more than a classmate, or friend who had stuck to you. like he was someone who you wanted to care about.

someone with perfect lips and wonderful eyes and an addicting laugh.

someone who you might want to tell more, share more.

the person that you'd been a month ago would've told peter. even unsure if he could keep that secret or stay with you, you would've told him. trusted him that much. more than he deserved.

but the person sitting on your couch staring into those same eyes doesn't want anything.

to move or breathe or have to tell peter that you just don't care anymore.

that whatever you have to tell him is gone, that your words and voice have been ripped from your chest, that this couch, this distance you've been trying to build is the only remedy to fix the hole that remains.

but you don't want to see him. you don't want to tell him anything. you don't want to breathe his air and risk infecting him.

"nothing, peter. i'm fine."

"you look like you've spent the last month in the hospital."

"well, you look like a goddamn swimsuit model, so i guess we're even."

you're watching as his serious face shifts, and you can see it as he fights back a laugh, his eyes just barely flickering.

and you wish that you didn't care. you wish so badly that it didn't matter. you look away, thinking to pretend that none of this exists.

you've had enough nightmares like this lately.

"hey," peter says, one fingertip turning your eyes back to his. and you know it's not a dream, because your imagination can never get those eyes just right. "i'm here to listen. whatever it is. we'll work it out. i just need you to talk to me."

"i told you, there's nothing--"

"and you've got to stop lying to me like i can't tell."

you scowl.

peter's eyebrows lift, a fraction of affection appearing on his face. "c'mon, just tell me. i won't laugh."

you look down, at his hand resting on your thigh, and the hole you've burned into the couch.

you don't want to look at his eyes anymore. you're tired of trying to look away. and not talking to him.

you sigh. "nothing, peter. just..." you blink, but it's not enough to push his regard off of you. to rid yourself of the toxins he's breathed into you.

you were almost immune to them, just a few weeks ago. mithridatism only works if it's consistent.

and his eyes are more dangerous when you haven't seen them.

you freeze. "there's nothing," you repeat, defenses falling, hands going to push him away from your face.

and peter knows what's going to happen before you do. "hey," he says, already soothing. "whatever it is..."

and peter grabs you before you fall. he catches that first tear, and it's his forever. his arms fold around your shoulder, his strong hands keeping your head up.

"there's nothing. it's all gone. everything i want, everything i--"

his hands are tilting your face up to his but you can't look at him. you can't look into his perfect eyes and feel ashamed of yourself anymore.

you're sick and tired of feeling sorry for yourself.

"i can't feel anything, peter. i don't want to do anything but sit here and hope that eventually, this feeling goes away. that it all just..." you shake your head, feeling him invade you.

and then you lean in and let peter hold you up.

you hadn't even realized that you were crying. hadn't realized how far down you'd pushed the words until they were bubbling up.

bile crawling up your throat.

"i'm sorry," you whisper to him, just before he crushes you into a hug, your head buried into his neck. your tears staining his perfect skin. "i'm so sorry."

peter shakes his head against you, holding you even closer.

and you can't breathe with how tight he's holding you, but this sort of breathlessness is welcome. much better than the other kind.

you laugh against him, feeling how sore your body is. how angry you are with yourself.

"i've got you," peter whispers, into your hair, kissing your forehead. "we'll figure it out."

you shake your head but say nothing.

you finally breathe him in, desperate after denying yourself for so long. you don't have to worry about anything as long as peter is right there.

"god," he says, after a few minutes pass. "i'm sorry i didn't come sooner. i thought..."

thought you were okay, you can hear. thought that you needed space, that time was a perfect solution.

"not your fault," you mumble into him.

peter leans back, just so that you'll look up at him. "why didn't you tell me? you know i would've come," he says, "if you'd just called."

"i didn't want--" you swallow, looking away. "i didn't want you to know. or see."

peter scowls. "what did you think would happen? i would leave? or tell you to get over yourself?"

"maybe."

"are you insane?"

"maybe."

peter doesn't even laugh. he makes you look at him again, not knowing how cruel those eyes of his are. "i would've stayed," he tells you, "no matter what. even if you told me that you murdered someone. or run over a squirrel with your bike. i would've been there. i'm going to be there."

his jaw is tense and his eyes are so serious, but you sniffle, shaking your head. "even if i murdered a squirrel?"

"i mean... it would be hard. but i'd do it."

you laugh.

he swallows, shaking his head. "you need to tell me what's going on, okay? instead of ghosting me for two weeks, acting like you died or something."

"i answered a couple of your texts."

peter glares at you.

"okay. i'm sorry."

he shakes his head again, almost smiling, if a little bit sad. "are you okay?"

you fall back into him, suffocating yourself into his shoulder. you don't want to answer that, and hope that peter doesn't push.

for once, he does what you want, wrapping his arm back around you, pulling you in closer.

"okay," he says, and breathes with you.

you sit with him for a few seconds, glad that he's there, and then you ask, "how'd you get in?" voice muffled by his shirt.

"it was unlocked, you idiot."

you frown, looking up at him.

peter laughs.

"no, it wasn't."

his eyes return to normal, deviance stuck in his expression. "i used my key," he answers, innocently.

trust peter to ruin the moment.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

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captainpondlilly · 6 months

Text

Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!

#d20 #dimension 20 #naddpod #bahumia #brian murphy #emily axford #brennan lee mulligan #gilear faeth #siobhan thompson #lou wilson #ally beardsley #dropout #spire #fantasy high #fantasy high freshman year #fantasy high sophomore year #fantasy high junior year

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abookloverlmao · 19 days

Text

When you’re lost in the darkness look for the light—

warning: father-daughter relationship, mention of death, depression, school shooting, swearing, heavy topics, blood, kidnapping, reader is 19 years old or early 20s, family loss, trauma, ANGSTY!

My birthday passed and I miss my dad and love Price so here you have this angsty piece, grab tissues, you have been warned!

🤍

Price is a father- was actually.

Father of 10 year old Ruby who passed during a school shooting, did it take toll on his life? Yes... yes, it did.

Did he get married and have another kid? absolutely not. Always just a one night stand.

Price never thought he would have a kid, hell even handle one ever again after his was gone, his sweet Ruby– until.

A sarcastic and violent fourteen year old holding a sniper gun and hidden away from the world in a cabin a little away from the base that was attacked appeared.

At first like a pain in the ass but as times went by, she became the rest of his uncompleted soul, like the light in his dark life.

From being a smartass to him, to being a soldier under his wing.

And being a soldier under his wing means getting into trouble sometimes and getting yelled at by him, he didn't want to lose the one girl who like his Ruby.

After almost getting shot, she found herself in Price's office listening to his scolds, staying silent and moving the pen across the paper knowing better than to argue back.

“I know I ain't your damn dad, do I need to tell Ghost to always keep an eye on you because you can't take care of your own self?” He sneered causing her to stop and look up, giving him a frown.

oh…

it was always her saying that she knows he’s not her dad sarcastically just for him to retort back a “do you?” but she never thought it will be the other way around.

she stayed silent before opening her mouth to murmur a small “do you?” now that made him freeze.

His gruff demeanor softened a little but then hardened and he scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

“I…” he started, Price's brow furrowed, and he leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples, "Don't get all sentimental on me, kid," he grumbled, his tone gruff.

“I ain't got time for that shit. Just do your job and stay out of trouble, understood? you need to start acting like a grown ass,”

But despite his harsh words, there was a subtle warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between them.

Y/N did nothing but nod and huff sinking back on her chair, “fine.” he glared at her, “understood?” he repeated again causing he to stand up and walk towards the door.

“understood, old man, but if anything ever happens to me then just to let you know I did it like a grown ass. I’m a woman now, ain’t asking for help ever again,”

Price watched her leave, a mixture of frustration and affection swirling within him. He let out a gruff chuckle, shaking his head as he muttered to himself, “Stubborn little shit,”

he knew she liked him too much to stay angry at him, hell he saved her ass too many times and she saved his soul, she always came back to apologize for being stupid but this time she did come to see him before heading out with a boy she met a year ago.

a fling.

Price met him, but didn’t trust him, hell he hated the thought of the girl he raised meet a guy- well at least he watched her grow and become a woman not like his… never mind, Y/N will always remain the sarcastic fourteen year old to him.

his little shit who called him old man.

his light when he’s lost in the darkness.

Y/N knocked, peeking in, “hey… i’m heading out with Alexei to the cinema, just came to let you know,” she said with a small smile walking towards his desk.

Price looked up from his paperwork, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze, “Going out, huh?” he grunted, trying to mask the twinge of unease in his chest.

Y/N nodded, her smile faltering slightly under his scrutinizing gaze, “uh huh, just thought I'd let you know,” she replied, her tone casual.

Price's jaw tightened as he studied her, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, "Be careful," he finally muttered, his voice gruffer than usual.

Y/N's smile widened, genuine gratitude shining in her eyes, the childish twinkle he bought back after horrible shit with her abusive asshole of a family, “I will, cap. Promise.” everyone knew the; don’t promise something you can’t keep, rule.

As she turned to leave, Price couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach. “and kiddo?” he called out, his voice softer now.

She glanced back at him, a question in her eyes.

“Come back in one piece, back to me, alright?” he said, the vulnerability in his voice betraying his tough exterior.

Y/N's smile softened, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features, “always do, old man,” she replied with the brightest grin, she then stopped by the door.

“hey John… look, i’m sorry for being a bitch with you earlier when you’re just trying to look out for me, and you know that I love you right?”

Price's heart skipped a beat at her words, a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to find the right response. "I know, kiddo," he managed to choke out, his voice thick with emotion. "And... I'm sorry too. Just... be safe out there, okay?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I will, John. I promise." never break that rule kids.

With one last glance, she disappeared out the door, leaving Price alone with his thoughts and a gnawing sense of dread that refused to leave him.

But despite his fears, he couldn't shake the feeling of love and pride that swelled within him for the young woman who had become like family to him.

“give me a call once you’re there!” he called back loud enough for her to hear and make her chuckle.

–•–•–🤍–•–•–

first call was right before the movie, Alexei said hello, but now it has been 3 hours with no response from her.

no movie is 3 hours… especially not Romeo and Juliet.. Price searched up the timing of the movie of course, his paranoia ate him alive, but then… it went to 48 hours of no news from her.

he looked everywhere for her, yelling for the cops to search for her and his crew, driving around and hacking her phone just to find it in a car abandoned in an alleyway.

not a sound, not a sight of her, she just… vanished– no way was his Y/N running away, she was happy with him, Price can feel himself losing his sanity minute by minute, cops looked everywhere around, his crew asked, searched, he looked even in the woods under the rain.

until 71 hours later, 2 days and 23 hours later… he got a call from a random number, Price stopped his crews and put his phone on speaker, “hello? kiddo? is that you?” he started but was cut off by ragged breaths, like someone was shot in the lungs or was badly hurt.

“dad?” she started between heavy yet rapid breaths, “Y/N?” Price's heart raced as he listened to her ragged breaths. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

for the first time she called him dad and it wasn’t in a sweet way, it was filled with fear like her life depended on it.

Price's voice shook with worry as he waited for her response, his crew hanging onto every word, “I’m in trouble, Dad,” Y/N gasped, the sound of fear evident in her voice. "I don't know where I am... They took me... I'm scared."

static can be heard in the background like shuffling causing him to wince and push the phone away from his ear.

Price's mind raced, his hands trembling as he clutched the phone. “Y/N, stay calm, baby girl, We'll find you. Tell me, can you see anything around you? Any landmarks?”

Y/N's voice was strained, “I-I don't know... look, Alexei is with the Russian gang, he’s a spy, he has always been- I shouldn’t trust him, hack this phone, and his real name is Dimitri Smirnov, was in jail for 3 years because of “you” apparently, I managed to knock him out but please for the love of god…” she took a deep breath, oh so shaky, it’s like her soul was slipping away by the second, after each inhale.

As her voice trembled through the phone, each word seemed to carry the weight of her suffering.

Her breaths were ragged, shallow gasps punctuated by the sound of her struggling lungs. Pain dripped from her voice like blood from an open wound, seeping into the airwaves with every strained syllable.

well she was bleeding from the side, hell she was bleeding all over in this random ass cabin freezing to death and holding her side for dear’s life at the corner with his phone in hand as Alexei laid unconscious– or should she say Dimitri, hell she couldn’t even move to kill him, the chains did hurt like a bitch.

“I want to go home… cause i’m fucking bleeding out and I don’t know if I’m living, please Price, please… just..”

yeah she’s dying, definitely dying…

her essence fading like a flickering flame in a gust of wind, voice trailing off in the distance same way her essence did…

The static in the background mingled with her gasps, a cacophony of agony and desperation that echoed in Price's ears like a haunting melody.

he won’t forget this- ever, whoever in the heavens listening to him and watching over him seemed to like the sight of his suffering, hell he knows he won’t ever forget those ragged breaths of hers.

it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“come take me home,” her voice cracked with anguish, the weight of her words bearing down on Price like a heavy burden. It was a slow, agonizing descent into darkness, her lifeblood draining away with each passing moment, leaving behind only the hollow echo of her pain.

with that the line cut off, Price barked orders, tracking down her phone, and as soon as Gaz found the location they were off.

a haunting location, a house in the middle of the woods, burning from the inside.

Price froze, but then in a second, he raced towards the back of the house where the fire still hadn't reached the spot, kicking the door with all his force with his men behind he could feel his heart hammering as his eyes moved around in desperate search of her.

as soon as the door opened a sharp whiff of smoke hit his face, causing his eyes to squint and become watery, he coughed a little but that didn't stop him from moving in, calling out her name.

but then Ghost called him from one of the ends of the hallways, "hey cap! You might wanna see this!" he said through his mask causing Price to walk towards the man who pointed at the chains on the ground leading from the kitchen all the way through the fire and to the attic room.

Price's heart sank as he followed the trail of chains, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have happened to her. The flames roared behind him, threatening to engulf the entire house, but he pushed forward, determined to find her.

fine running through fire was a stupid idea but he wasn't burned or caught by the fire surprisingly, instead, he walked down the stairs but Ghost was quick to catch up stopping him from doing anything crazy when the door to the attic room opened.

"get out of my way, lieutenant," an order.

"let me check first," was all Ghost said before the masked soldier reached the entrance to the attic room, it wasn't locked... Simon took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he might discover inside, preparing for the worst.

gun in hand, the other reaching to push the door so slowly so he could sneak in just in case the "killer" might be by the door ready with a gun or a knife or even a brick.

however, the scene before him sent pure fear through his veins, horror gripping him alive, the room was dimly lit by the flickering flames, casting eerie shadows on the walls but the air was heavy with smoke and the acrid smell of burning wood.

and Simon was never one to be easily shaken.

he even forgot to point the gun around just in case of an attack, his eyes landing on the body in the center, empty eyes staring right back at him, barely blinking.

Ghost wanted to throw up, for the first time ever after millions of missions, he wanted to throw up at the sight, not at her... but the state she was in.

On the ground, beaten so badly, covered in blood from head to toe that he couldn't even recognize her features until his eyes landed on the earrings, twinkling, but with drops of blood still.

his breath hitched the more he took her in, the once nice shirt she wore ripped at the sleeves and top, barely warming her up, a hand chained while the other was on her side, ankles on the other hand both were chained keeping her from moving.

a bloody golf bat by her head, the hair she straightened, now curled and damp, spreading around and dirty thanks to the thick pool of blood— a bloody golf bat by her fucking head- the fucker had beat her to death until she was paralyzed with a fucking bat, not only that, but she was either shot or stabbed to the side.

her breathing- oh her breathing was- ragged, her cheek pressed to the ground and eyes staring right at his slowly losing the sparkle of life, slowly, god he couldn't imagine the excruciating pain she was in if her eyes were still open.

tears racing down the side of her face, pushing some of the drops of blood away.

Ghost's heart clenched with a mixture of rage, sorrow, and helplessness, and finally, he knelt down beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her cheek, feeling the warmth of her fading life, blood coating his gloved fingers as soon as he reached for her.

The weight of the situation bore down on him, and he struggled to breathe, his body shielded her face from Price who would probably drive himself to madness if he saw her.

his daughter-

"Stay with me," Ghost whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "We're here now. We'll get you the help you need. Just hold on. Price is here- John's here..."

she tried to open her mouth and whisper something but only her fingers twitched and her lips parted, words turned into nothing but rough breaths.

"Lieutenant?" oh shit- oh no what should he do, Price was calling out for him, what should he fucking do? no response. he just.. stood and took a step back.

Price frowned, eyes moving to his gloved hand, a drop of blood, thick and so red landed on the wood, but when Simon didn't respond to his call only stared at the body.

He moved to the side, but then his breath caught in his throat, eyes widening in disbelief and horror they almost popped out. His mind struggled to make sense of the unimaginable truth before him.

It was his little shit lying there, battered and broken, her fragile form barely recognizable beneath the blood and bruises. The world around him seemed to blur as he fought to comprehend the magnitude of the atrocity committed against his precious girl.

Every fiber of his being screamed out in agony, and he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.

and he moved, running to her side, collapsing on the wood, and reaching for her, taking his sweet Y/N in his arms, he held her against his chest and he swore he could see the way her eyes lit up as soon as she was in his arms.

Price could barely recognize her features, so he reached a shaky hand to brush her hair away from her face and with his sleeve, wiped the blood away carefully without hurting her even if it was painful even holding her, she didn't wince, but just stared, relaxing in his arms, breaths still fast but they slowed down as her fear evaporated like it was never there.

and she opened her mouth, mumbling the tiniest, "Hi old man..." Price almost sobbed at that, tears threatening to spill, yes he was emotional, for fuck's sake, "Hey kiddo... you're fine, just, try to talk to me we'll get you help," he whispered holding her, supporting her head like she was a baby instead of an eighteen-year-old woman.

He reached to push the strands of curls that clung to her bloody face, revealing a glimpse of her delicate smile. It was a bittersweet sight, pain, and fatherly love together.

With a trembling voice, Y/N managed to utter a few more words, her words barely audible, but Price leaned in closer, desperate to catch every syllable.

"come on, captain, scold me, it's better than this look," she whispered between ragged breaths, her voice weakened by the ordeal she had endured, tears streamed down Price's face as he listened to her brave words.

He couldn't fathom the depth of her courage and resilience in the face of such brutality. His grip tightened around her gently, as if trying to transfer his strength to her fragile form.

"I'm not scolding you at all, kiddo, never again," he said, he promised– as if that would make her stand and heal.

it won’t. it certainly won’t.

her vision grew blurry, the body heat slowly vanishing and colder then ice, black spots surrounding her vision, she didn’t know what to say.

"you’re my home, old man…" she whispered feeling her eyes flutter on their own, she wasn’t controlling her body, Price noticed and tried to shake awake talking about how she shouldn’t leave him or whatever, she couldn’t hear a single thing as peace slowly washed over her.

with weak knees she pushed herself using her tiptoed closer so her face in buried in his arm and his scent greets her into a warm embrace.

"no no no no- kid. stay awake," she would’ve laughed, joking about how he gives her orders even when she is on the verge of death.

"you’re my kid… you’re my home," he whispered both to her and to himself, so he doesn’t lose his sanity, to convince himself, he shifted so he will hold her in his arms into the tightest hug while her body is growing limp.

her breathing were ragged and as soon as he shifted and held her head against his shoulder, holding her head, it slowed down… and then stopped.

just stopped.

Price was frozen, heart shattering into so many little pieces, "Y/N? kiddo?" he asked shaking her a bit but as he glanced to the side, her eyes emptily staring up, lifeless, twinkle no longer there, no breathing escaping her mouth or nose, lips parted, head falling back, he knew.

his Y/N was gone, his sweet baby girl, in his arms, her bloody hand holding on his sleeve like it always did loosening and falling limp on her side.

Yet another soldier, yet another daughter vanishing from his arms and his life like a dying light, like a dying star, like dust in the wind.

well that’s life… ups and downs. never make promises you can’t keep kids.

Never

***

I hope you enjoyed it guys!! edit is shit but the story ruined me! please let me know what you think🤍

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descendants-brat · 5 months

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The Villain was Mal: The century long Did I mention debate.

To this day Audrey and Ben are being pitted against each other in the Did I mention scene when neither of them were at fault.

Ben was the direct victim, he was unable to control his actions and did something he wouldn't even had done had he not been drugged and NOBODY out of all the people who knew him for years found this out of character or stood up for him. They didn't pull him aside afterwards to ask what the hell he was doing or if he was okay, knowing he was pretty much completely unprotected from magic and the VK girly is walking around with a spell book.

Audrey was the indirect victim, she was publicly humiliated by her boyfriend and watched people she was friends with cheer him on and the girl he's doing this with is the daughter of your family's enemy. You were visibly destressed and the same thing with Ben, nobody cares, nobody asks. So you do the only thing you can do to try and save face and find another date. She's got her heartbroken, she'd probably feel more humiliated even trying to ask Ben about it and it doesn't help all of her friends are cheering them on. She at this point doesn't even know what was really going on.

Ben ends up in this borderline abusive relationship where he's afraid to say no to his girlfriend/fiance and everyone including his parents holds her opinion of more value than his as king. Whenever he's being abused by magic, which happens in all three movies nobody (D1-D2) Sticks up for him they either don't care or blame him for actions he had no control over.

Audrey is shunned from Auardon and is blamed by her family for failing to secure the king as if they didn't have a genuine relationship and she doesn't have feelings. She falls into a depression and has fallen behind in school and questions her self worth because all of the people who were her friends or looked at her in awe were now asking "What is she doing here?" for showing up to a birthday party that in any other circumstances she would've been invited. How was she not supposed to tie her self worth in dating Ben when people started treating her like a waste of space when she wasn't with him?

In conclusion, after years we need to realize that this situation was neither of their faults, they had been used and manipulated in a plan that was barely undone because nothing was every clarified between the two. The ending of their relationship was forced onto them and consequently the destruction of any friendship they could've had. I don't want to be like "blame it all on Mal" but if we're going back and forth between blaming Ben and Audrey, then yes we need to blame Mal. She created the direct situation for it to happen, benefited from it entirely, lied about what actually happened (saying she spelled Ben for love) and she herself never tried to make amends or actually explain the situation. Mal spelled him taking away his right of action and she clearly wasn't sorry about what happened to Audrey because she insults her right after the did I mention scene when at this point she doesn't know anything about her. She further in my opinions shows a lack of actual remorse when she continues to try and spell Ben later on and when she gives up on magic gaslights him into doing what she wants (she doesn't take no for an answer.) (That's a whole different conversation but okay Mal, Audrey is the shallow one and Evie is better even though everybody knew Evie was only interested in Chad because he was a prince.)

#ben descendants #king benjamin #king ben #ben deserves better #ben and audrey #audrey descendants #disney descendants #descendants #anti mal #anti mal bertha

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johnwickb1tsch · 7 months

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you’re the worst thing (i’m addicted to)

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here...

Part 1.

“Hey, Hels.”

There is no answer, only the warbling of a bird in a distant tree. The day is bright and blue, spring has come again in all her glory. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, that the sun should still shine, and the birds should still sing.

Because she is gone.

It’s been two years, but you still haven’t really wrapped your head around it.

You still have your last text message thread with her in your phone. It’s as though you could just punch a few buttons and still talk to her. Always, she would answer you, no matter what she was doing. Sometimes you want to type in I miss you and hit send, just to see what might happen.

But then, maybe it is appropriate, that today should be such a beautiful day. On this day, forty-two years ago, your sister was born. Roughly ten years later, you followed. As a direct result, your mother died of complications in childbirth.

Your father still blamed you, but Helen never did.

In a way, Helen was your mother, more than the woman who bore you.

It makes it all hurt so much more.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

You look down at the stone, this massive granite behemoth. You find it rather ugly, to be honest, but it will certainly stand the test of time, nuclear war notwithstanding. Loving Wife, reads the epitaph below.

You know it was true.

You know that perhaps John Wick is the only person Helen loved more than you. But the inscription still seems too brief. Short changing her, somehow.

But then, John paid for the stone, so you suppose he got to pick what it said.

You were ensuring her memory lived on in other ways.

“I finally did as you asked,” you tell her. “I’ve used the photos you left me in a painting. We're going to be in a show together. I wish you were here to see it.”

There is a mean part of you that suspects your submission was only accepted because it contained work from the late, great, photographer Helen Morgan-Wick, but you shove that down into the seething pit with all the rest of your fears and doubts. You didn't use them for the attention. You did it to feel close to her, and because she asked you to. One final art project, the note had said. She knew you too well, knew that the only thing that kept you from toeing the line of the abyss was a good artistic obsession.

You knew she’d planned to leave a project for John too. A puppy, she’d said. You’d shared a laugh over it, through tears, the last time you’d been together. You never found out how that had gone. John hadn’t attended a family gathering since Helen passed.

Too painful.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

“I miss you, Hels. I feel so lost without you.”

“Amen.”

The sound of another voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You turn to find him, in one of his signature tailored black suits, looking unfairly scrumptious despite the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't made a sound in his approach. He never did. The man moved like a ghost and looked like a dark dream. You'd always found him insanely attractive.

You'd never done anything about that, of course. But goddamn, you had eyes.

“Hi, John.”

“Hello, y/n.”

You’ve never run into him at the gravesite before, though you have seen the wilted offerings of daisies left by the stone, and you always had assumed they’d come from him. You haven’t seen him since Helen’s funeral. He hasn’t changed much, really, though there is a sharpness to his aspect you’d never noticed when Helen was alive. An edge to his gaze; how can eyes so dark convey so much? Despite yourself, it sends a little thrill down your spine that you absolutely know you should not revel in.

Maybe you haven’t seen him in person after Helen passed, but you’ve gazed at him plenty through Helen’s lens. There had been so many photographs of him in the collection of prints she’d left you. Nothing risqué, but the way he’d looked at her even through the camera had been nothing less than intimate.

There were times, late at night in your studio, when you’d pretended he’d been looking at you that way.

“How…have you been?”

He offers a grim shadow of a smile and a shake of his head that you understand all too well.

“Nice to be with someone you don't have to pretend with.”

“Yeah.”

You both stare down at the grave, meditating on your loss of this woman who touched you both so completely.

“Do you think she can hear us?” you ask, unable to lift your voice above a whisper.

There is a long pause from her widower, the man she left behind.

“Not really.” He lifts his face to the sun, eyes closed, as though maybe he can feel something of her presence. “But you should talk to her anyway. I might be wrong.”

You smile at that.

“Do you ever talk to her?”

“All the time,” he admits with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But then, I might just be losing my mind.”

“Ah well. That makes two of us then.”

You gently lay down the bouquet of Gerber daisies you'd brought for her. Helen’s favorite. If you ever have a garden, you will plant some for her. As it is, you have to buy them from the store. You remember the patch of daisies she’d cultivated in the garden of your childhood home. Their cheerful faces and soft petals. They had been your mother’s favorite too. When you were a girl Helen would sing to you and braid them in your thick hair. You couldn’t know at the time, how precious those perfect days had been.

The wave of sorrow hits you like a freight train, the weight of your loss a crushing force. You start to cry, hiding your face in your hands; you would prefer to do this alone, but you cannot stop it.

You feel an arm about your shoulders. It surprises you—John was never a touchy-feely man, never one for hugs, always preferring a wave or a handshake. Only for Helen, did he ever display any sort of affection. They had always been touching, holding hands or sitting hip to hip on the couch, his strong arm slung protectively around her shoulders. You didn’t want to say you’d been envious of that, but…perhaps you’d wondered, what it might be like, to be so cherished.

When he pulls you against him you only manage some token resistance. “I’ll mess up your suit.” You sound pitiful, even to you.

“I have an excellent dry cleaner.”

His dry wit had always amused you. This time, it breaks you, and you give in. He is solid as an oak, and as it turns out, his chest is an excellent place to cry on. Under the shelter of his chin you wring yourself dry, until it feels like you have nothing left inside you. His large hand rests lightly upon the back of your head, shielding you from the world. He is warm, and his cologne is subtle but heavenly. Sandalwood, maybe, and something spiced. Cardamom, perhaps. A hint of pepper.

You don’t particularly want to move, even though you absolutely should. Yet his hold on you has not loosened, and you tell yourself that maybe John Wick needed a hug just as badly as you did.

“People keep telling me that it gets easier, and I just want to punch them in the face,” you sniffle.

A huff of laughter escapes him. You feel it stir your hair on the top of your head. “Yeah. I get that.”

Finally you pull back, though not as far as you should. You’ve never actually been this close to him before, and you look at each other from a foot away. Sometimes proximity can shatter the illusion of someone’s attractiveness—but not this man. The impossible angle of his cheekbones, the soft scruff of his beard…is it just you, or does the edge in his gaze soften a little, when he looks at you? It makes your legs a little weak, and you kind of hate yourself for it.

It has nothing to do with you, stupid, you tell yourself. Where you and Helen weren’t exactly twins, you did resemble each other strongly. In profile, you’d been mistaken for her in public plenty of times before. If anything, it was probably unnerving for this poor man who missed his wife so much, to hold you, a sorry facsimile, in his arms. Out of pity, most likely.

Helen had been the good sister. The upstanding one, the kind one. You? You can be such a twisted little thing.

“Sorry,” you sigh, noticing the smudge of makeup on his lapel.

He doesn’t even glance down, that intense gaze still fixed upon you. “Don’t be.”

Unbidden heat blooms from your cheeks to your toes, finding yourself the subject of that gaze. You’ve got to go, before you really embarrass yourself.

“I'll leave you alone. It was nice to see you, John.”

You turn to go, hugging yourself against the early spring chill. Why did you have to feel so bereft, without his arms around you? You take a few steps before he calls after you, “Y/n?”

You freeze in your tracks, a thrill jetting down your spine. “Yeah?” you dare, turning to half look over your shoulder.

“I…was thinking about going to Helen’s favorite restaurant tonight. Would you like to join me?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest, as you slowly turn to face him. You should say no. There’s a thousand reasons you should say no. This was your sister’s husband. It doesn’t matter that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and that he’s been kind to you, and that he’s looking at you like he might drown if you say no.

“I would like that,” you answer, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears sounds like the hammering of nails into your own coffin.

Part 2

#john wick x you #john wick #john wick x you fic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #im going to hell #john wick fic #title from a black keys song i fucking love them

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short-black-diamond · 1 year

Note

hey could you do some headcanons plus a little drabble about being bonten!haitani brothers little sister who's in her 3rd year of high-school??

mayhe she drops by to bonten headquarters sometimes when no one is at home and itd be so funny if she was also a raging feminist and talking back to her brothers (and maybe even the other members) if they make any sketchy comments (probably abt the prostitutes in bonten)

Aw Heck yeah I'll do this!

BUT!!! Please keep in mind that I never really watched tokyo revengers, so please bear with me. Anyways I'll try my best!!!

The feminine Haitani Feminist

---

Scenario: You are Rika Haitani, the youngest sister of the Haitani, already in your third and hopeflully last year of high-school. Since you know of your two elder brothers daily activities, you visit them at their meeting with Bonten to scold them for not eating with you.

To say that you were angry was an understatement.

You were fuming at the sight of the dusty and dirty apartment you asked your brothers to clean up before leaving for school, but they never listened. Now, as you were heating up the soup you cooked the day prior to eat with your brothers, you called Ran.

"Hello, my sweet sister-" "Do you have any idea how fucking angry I am right now?! I told you guys to clean our home and you and Rindou just up and left!"

"Okay Rika, let's talk about that a little later-" "No, I'm coming over. I know that you two didn't eat shit the moment I left the house."

And after hanging up on him saying something mid-sentence, you turned off the stove and put the soup in metall containers and locking them securely.

It took you a while to get there but you could already make out the many familiar faces of the girls and women working there, and you greeted them all with a smile, but in your head you frowned.

They were doing a dirty job for even dirtier men.

As you knocked on one of the doors you frequented where your brothers were often in meetings, you opened the door after a silent "come in".

And as you were holding the two containers, you saw your two brothers, your frown deepening and Ran giving you uneasy smiles. Rindou frowned right back at you before looking back and forth between you and his older brother. "Rika, what brings you here?", the middle sibling asked dumbfounded, making you look at him.

It seemed like you didn't even aknowledge the other members' existence, because Mikey was looking at the scene unfolding him with a poker face and even though he might have gotten more depressed over the years, he didn't loose his love for drama, even if it was sibling bickering. It was something he couldn't have anymore. So he always watched with slight fondness and longing instead of interfering.

Haruchiyo Sanzu, Mikey's right hand man as he always dreamt, was looking at you with bewilderment, you interrupted his "king", after all. But seeing the man next to him look at you with something like...fondness? on his face, so Sanzu didn't dare to say anything, fearing that he'd get an angry Mikey like the time he beat up and shaved some Mikey-haters' hairs for Mikey's birthday.

"First off, I told you guys to clean up the apartment before I left for school, and second, you BOTH promised me that you'd eat lunch with me, so why didn't you guys hold your promise?!"

Kakucho was also looking at you, but with slight annoyance. 'Why was this little girl here again? And she just has to be the younger sister of the Haitani brothers, of all people'... Still, he was watching his mouth around Mikey.

"We're sorry Rika, we really didn't want to make you feel forgotten, it's just that-" "You guys were so busy talking about 'Bonten stuff' that you even forget to eat? Tell me, when was the last time you two ate something today?", you unterrupted, looking at your two elder brothers expectingly.

While the two brothers were looking in front of them in shame and you sighing in dissapointment while opening the still hot containers, Takeomi Akashi opened his mouth and letting his inferiority complex speak. "Jeez, letting yourself get belittled by your little sister sure is humiliating, huh? Why don't you tell her to shut her trap so that we can keep going with the meeting, Mikey?", his voice asked, smirking at you smugly while he stroked his ugly beard.

But, you were smiling. "Shutting my trap you say? And who are you to tell me that? Huh?", you asked, your voice bittersweet and your smile too forced. Mikey had a ghost of a smile on his lips, making Sanzu flinch and look at you in amazement.

The pink haired man didn't understand what you did to bring a smile to Mikey's lips, but he sure as hell wouldn't omplain about your sudden visits anymore.

Rindou and Ran were fuming in the meantime. "What did you just say?!", Ran asked, already standing up and Rindou was about to put on some gloves when you snickered and took one container.

"I'm just sayin', she just nags you guys around and brings you food, she might as well become a prostitute like the other women here."

Annndddd, that was the last straw.

As you walked over to him with the containers while staring at him menacingly, takeomi felt slight unease. Why was he feeling so nervous? Were you about to give him something to eat? But there is no spoon-

"AARHRGHRGRH SHIT, Fuck, You FUCKING BITCH!", he screamed as you flung the soup at him, giving him second degree burns, but your glare was ice cold.

There was a long moment off silence, when ignoring the tall man's cry of pain. Sanzu and Kakucho were glad they didn't open their mouths, and Kokonoi was looking at you with wonder in his eyes. Takeomi was at least a whole foot taller and at least ten times stronger than you, and still you had the guts to pour soup on him. You were a brave woman.

Mikey giggled and Sanzu wanted to call the ambulance upon hearing his leader laugh like a child. sanzu also might have gotten scared by your actions, unconsciously touching the scars on the corners of his mouth. Ran laughed his ass off and gasped for air while Rindou stared with an open mouth.

Meanwhile, you were putting the now empty container on the table the men were seated around at, and stepped closer to the guy who was now holding his face. "You know, I don't really like it when people talk about women like that. And do you wanna hear the fucking truth? There wouldn't be no prositutes if no man asked for it. And looking at you, talking about how I could become a prostitute -like the other women here- really makes my blood boil, y'know? Also, aren't you embarrassed for telling that a high-schooler? Let alone the younger sister of your collegues?"

Takeomi had trouble identifying you through the thick liquid threatening to also burn his eyes but when he opened on eye, he was met with a scary grimace of yours with your fist right next to it and in the next moment, he was out cold.

You sighed out before looking at Mikey and bowing in apology. "I'm sorry, Sano Manjiro, for my rude behaviour. I will take my leave now." "Stay. I hadn't had that much fun since I could last remember, Haitani. Please, make yourself comfortable."

And at that, you sat yourself down on Takeomi's stool and he got dragged away by some nameless underlings. Your brothers were giving you and their boss uneasy glances, not sure whether they should do or say something too. The other three conscious men, Kakucho, Kokonoi and Sanzu, were holding respective space from you, also swearing to not step too close to the women working in this facility.

"I'm craving Taiyaki...can someone order food?", Mikey chirped, making you giggle while you took out your phone. "Sure thing! And you two will eat too!", making your elder brothers nod eagerly.

Ran and Rindou didn't know that you could knock somebody like Takeomi out with a single punch, let alone fight.

They'd have to convince whoever was responsible for hiring women for their sinful needs should have a talk with them.

---

HEY HEY HEY!!! I hope that was what you were looking for... I tried to make the characters fit their personalities as well but also not too long, because then it'd would have to be a longer story, and yeah. I also wanted Mikey to have a laugh in a while, poor baby. It was actually fun looking up the Bonten characters to be honest!

I hope I'll get more requests like these!

Read you in the next post!!!

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hadesisqueer · 1 year

Text

Honestly I thought we'd left the “Tai was neglectful” discourse back years ago.

Because yeah, he was. I get him: he was left by his first wife and her second one disappeared and never came back, and that he suddenly saw himself a single father of two, still having to work to support them while he was still grieving, and the only person who could help him probably had to keep his distance most of the time because he was afraid his bad luck would affect them. And I understand that he was incredibly depressed, and that he loves his daughters more than anyone in this world and that eventually he came back from it (we see him spending time with his daughters and reading stories to them in canon content), and Yang did say in volume 5 that her father was always busy with school, so I also assume that the guy worked a lot and that he always made sure Yang and Ruby had their basic necessities covered. But he did neglect Ruby and Yang emotionally for a while, and that did affect Yang. That's it. He's not a bad person, he just wasn't the best father for a while.

It's sort of like Willow. She was a caring mother for her children when their kids were little; Weiss really implied it. And seeing she is able to summon Grimm, I assume she could fight and that she even could have been the one who taught Winter how to do so (and Winter's original outfit seemed to be based off hers in portrait, so I assume they were close). But then Weiss' tenth birthday happened, and everything came crashing down. She became very depressed, and started drinking to numb that pain, becoming an alcoholic. I do feel bad for Willow; I know that she really does love all her children, and that in volume 8 she took a turn, stopped drinking and started repairing her relationship with at least two of her children. I know she's trying to be better now, but that doesn't change the fact that she was neglectful towards her kids as well. She didn't only allow Jacques to still abuse her those years, she also allowed her kids to be abused because she was usually to drunk or depressed to do anything. We saw that the closest thing to a proper mother figure Weiss had growing up was Winter herself, who was only fifteen when her mother shut down and had to take on that role. We've all also seen how Winter turned out, emotionally repressed trying to distance herself as much as she can from her entire family as possible, not just Jacques. And we saw Whitley; how lonely he felt because his sisters got to leave and he's stuck with their abusive father and their alcoholic mother, that he was so young when his mother shut down that he probably doesn't even remember when she was a loving mom, and how he at first could barely even stand being in the same room with Willow or her talking to him because he resented her.

They both made mistakes and that has shaped their kids being the way they are, not only because their mom left or died or because their father is abusive. That doesn't mean I hate them, of course. I love both Willow and Tai, I don't think they're bad people, I want to see their families heal and I wanna see them spend time with their kids, and most of all, I know that they'd give their lives if that meant seeing their kids safe because despite everything, I don't doubt that Tai loves Yang and Ruby and that Willow loves Whitley, Weiss and Winter as well, more than anything in the world. That's all.

#rwby #schnee family #xiao long rose family #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #winter schnee #whitley schnee #schneeblings #taiyang xiao long #willow schnee

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kataloviekuri · 9 months

Text

Puppy | Shanks x Fem! Reader [ Part 2 ] ♡

Warning : English is not my first language !!

a/n : I didn't plan to write part 2 but a few people were asking for it , so here's part 2 !! This part might not be good and I had a hard time writing it but I tried ! (T▼T) Hope you enjoy!!

➱ part 1

" Mama ... Can I play now ? "

Your son asks , a pencil between his lips , looking at you with puppy eyes , silently asking " please mommy " .

You laugh and rub his soft red hair , which is almost touching his shoulder .

" Okay but you have to come back at 5 " You answer and peck his forehead .

" Thanks mommy !! " He grabs the strawhat you made for him and runs out of the house . He wanted to have a strawhat like Luffy's that he winced about it everyday so you made it by yourself and gave him as a present for his 5 years old birthday .

You sigh and lean back against the back of the chair and close your eyes , your hand on your forehead .

You miss Luffy . Thinking about the time when everybody in the village was celebrating when his wanted poster came out and your son couldn't stop talking about how Luffy was so cool and awesome and he's going to be King of The Pirates soon but you told him it's not that easy . He was a big brother for your little son . Your son once told you that he wants to be like Luffy when he grows up .

You can't help but think about your son , how lonely he is since Luffy sailed away . You know he hides it because he doesn't want to make you sad . You always blame yourself for not making him happy .

There were nights when you couldn't sleep , depressed and lonely , but your beautiful son was there for you , you watched him sleep and ran your fingers through his hair , it always made you feel okay .

But still , you're so lonely ...

The only one that kept you going before your son was born was Luffy . And now you live for your son . At nights , you cry yourself to sleep , you were carrying a baby and no one was beside you .

It was all his faults ... you blame him . You hate him , you tried so hard to hate him but you couldn't ...

You love him . You still love him after all this ...

You love him so much , but you're not going to think about him anymore . You'll try not to ...

The small boy slowly walk along the shore , his little feets sinking into the sand , he squints his eyes , looking down at the sand , searching for small seashells . Suddenly the wind blows his hat off . The boy panicks , ready to run and get his hat back .

A person appears in front of him and grab the strawhat , the boy stops as he looks up at the person , his eyes widen as he smiles and runs towards the person .

" Here you go , little guy "

The boy hugs his strawhat close to his chest then put it on his head .

" Why is your hair looks the same as mine , Mister ? "

" Humm .. I don't know " " What's your name ,kid ? "

" Soma .. and you ? "

The man crouch down and smile at him .

" My name's Shanks "

" Come with me !! I want to thank you and my mommy makes the best meals in the world !! You're going to love it " Shanks eyes widen when Soma hold his hand and leads him towards the village .

Finally ... After years Shanks found himself standing on the land of Foosha Village again .

He couldn't wait to meet you ... to see your face again . It won't be easy , he didn't know what you've been doing after he left . Maybe you have someone new ? A boyfriend ? Or worse , what if you were a married woman and carrying someone's child ?He hate to think about it .. he wants you all to himself , but you're more important than anything , so he's happy if you're happy .

It wasn't even an hour when Shanks thought you'd slap him in the face when you see him but here he is ... sitting at the little dinner table with you and your son- No his son , the red hair said it all . He felt his heart dropped when he saw that boy from a far , he thought he was seeing his younger self . And that strawhat ...

God .. he feels bad . He feels so fucking bad for you .

He couldn't even imagine you dealing with all the problems alone . He wants to apologies , get on his knees , taking your hands in his , begging you to slap him , hit him so you feel a little better . But not now , he has to wait . He's ashamed of himself , he left you with nothing , didn't even know that you were carrying his son and now he's just sitting with you and Soma like nothing happened .

You avoid looking at him since he stepped into your house with Soma's hand holding his . Shanks eyes always following you and hoping you would look at him just for a second . But you didn't . You talk to Soma and smile whenever the boy answers the question , your eyes filled with love . You were acting like he doesn't even exist .

The dinner was awkward and uncomfortable for you . You felt a little sad because Soma's full focus was on Shanks . The entire time , Soma didn't even care that he brought a stranger Well , not exactly a stranger in the house . You are washing the dishes and Soma and Shanks are still are in the living room . Not typically a living room since your small house doesn't have a room except for the bathroom .

You look back slightly , to see what they were doing .

Soma is showing Shanks his notebook which is full of sketches . He loves to draw . Your eyes shift from Soma from Shanks , who's already looking at you . You froze and look away immediately .

Fuck ...

It was getting dark , Shanks decided that this is the time to speak to you .

" Alright, little guy . I'm going back now "

Shanks chuckles when Soma pouts , looking a little sad .

" But you'll come back tomorrow right !? We will play together " Soma looks at Shanks with hopes in his eyes . Shanks smiles softly and pat the boy's hat .

" Of course, we can play whenever you want "

" Yayyyy!! "

" It's bedtime , Soma " You speak from near the dinner table , looking down at the boy . You feel Shanks looking at you , but you just keep your eyes on your son.

" Okay , Mommy . I'll get clean up now " Soma

Shanks heart melts at his son's reply , Soma seems to love you as much as he do . His eyes shift from Soma to you .

" When did you return? " Your voice was loud in this little house , it was dark outside and almost too quiet since you live a little far from the village .

" This afternoon " He slowly get up and stands in front of you , you finally look up at him but say nothing .

His hand reach out to touch your cheek but you take a step back . The action clearly hurts him but he keeps his cool .

" Sweetheart- "

" Don't .. " You take a deep breath , looking down at the floor . Shanks keeps quiet , waiting for you to continue .

" You- You can't just come back like nothing happened . I was- Fuck- It was hard Shanks , I was all alone , carrying your child when you're away looking for some exciting adventure !! "

You tried to stay calm but thinking about those day when you struggled all alone makes you feel irritated . You didn't know you were crying until Shanks's thumb wipes them away . You cry even more when he hold you tightly , mummering apologies . " I'm so sorry , sweetheart . I'm really sorry . You can hit me all you like please don't cry " . You put your hand on his arm as he lightly kiss your temple . You pull away as he rest his palm on your cheeks .

" Please leave now , Shanks " You whispers . Shanks gives you a gentle smile . He looks at you before opening the door . " I love you " Then he leaves . You feels the urge to run after him and hug him tightly and say " I love you too " . But you hold yourself back .

" Mommy , are you okay ? " Soma is looking at you with worries in his eyes . You wipe your tears one more time before lifting him up and hugging him tightly . Soma giggles " Mommy , I can't breath ! "

You kiss his forehead before setting him on the bed . He immediately put his head on your chest and throw his leg over you as you lie down next to him .

" Mommy .. I'm sorry " Soma looks at you with sadness in his eyes .

" What ? Why baby ? " You frown .

" I know you told me not to talk to strangers but Shanks is different . I just knows that he's a nice guy when he looked at me and you looked mad during the dinner . I was scared that you'd mad at me . I'm sorry I didn't listen to you Mommy "

You heart melts , he is looking at you with puppy eyes just like his dad ... You smiles brightly and kiss him all over his face as his laugh filled the house .

" I could never be mad at you , honey . Thank you for worrying about me . I love you "

" I love you more " He kiss your cheeks and close his eyes .

When you open your eyes , the sun was already shining brightly . You groan and slowly get up from the bed . You can't even open your eyes fully because they are too sticky and you don't feel like opening it at all but you have work to do . You quickly take a shower ,wear a nice simple gown and kiss Soma's forehead .

" Wake up , Soma .. it's time for school " Well , it's actually not a school . A year ago , a young man moved to the village and requested to teach the kids how to read and write , which all the villagers gladly agreed . It took ten minutes to wake up Soma , you scolded him abit about it and he started looking at you with puppy eyes , he knows it's your weakness. You sighed when he finally gave up and agreed to go .

Your eyes widen as soon as you open the door . Shanks was standing in front of the door , holding a big bouquet . He's staring at you so deeply that it almost make you shy . He steps closer and hand you the bouquet . You don't say anything as you gently took it .

" Thank you ... " You whisper .

" Take a walk with me ? " He asks , looking at you with puppy eyes . You shouldn't be doing this . But you've missed him .. so fucking much . You though you were too tough and could've ignore him but in reality you just fell in love with him again .

" Okay "

Shanks , holds his arm out for you . You timidly slipped your arm through his as you both starts walking .

" I saw Luffy's poster " Shanks is the one who started the conversation . " He's a big guy now . I'm proud of him " He continues .

" Yes , everyone was so happy for him when the poster came out " You replied . Suddenly he stops walking , you look at him wondering why he stops but he's already looking at you .

His fingers touching yours before holding your hand tightly , foreheads almost touching as he took a deep breath before started speaking .

" I miss you sweetheart , so fucking much . I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were pregnant , I didn't even know you were carrying my child- Fuck I'm such an asshole " He closes his eyes for a moment then continues to speak .

" I know it's not easy to forgive me but let me make it up to you .. " He hold your cheeks delicately , gazing into your eyes .

" It's no use , Shanks .. you're going to leave me again " You look down and says nervously , eyes starting to well up .

" Marry me " Your eyes widen , you feel like you can't move all of a sudden . What- What did he just say ? Did you hear it right ?? He chuckles and kiss your forehead . " What- "

" I said marry me , sweetheart " You're looking at him like he's crazy . " Come with me , there're many countries under my flag . I'll keep you and Soma safe " . You sniff , wiping your tears but they just keep falling down . Then Shanks face expression changes as he hold you in his arms tightly ,cooing you like you're a crybaby . After a while , you calm down but still sniffing and breathing heavily , Shanks holds your cheeks and lifts your face .

" So , will you- " You grab his face and kiss him before he could finish the question . He kisses you back , hard . Both of you have missed each other so much , the kiss become sloppy and messy . You pull away , Shanks tries to kiss you again but you push his shoulders slightly . He is breathing so hard , you giggle and kiss his nose .

" So when's the wedding ? "

#one piece #one piece live action #opla shanks x reader #shanks x reader #akagami no shanks

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redwolfxx · 4 months

Text

get him back!

jonggun x reader

inspired by "get him back!" - Olivia Rodrigo

tw: none

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring"

----

I guess I never really did know him. Sure, we dated for a little over three years, but it wasn't like we were going to stay together in the long run.

Sure, I loved him, but it was just a fling.

It wasn't anything serious.

---- "He argued with me about everything He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye"

----

Shit, I mean it was an open relationship.

He could date whoever he wanted, fuck whoever he wanted, you know, free souls.

Sure, I wasn't allowed to even be in the same room as another guy, but that's just how it is. It was a healthy relationship.

I mean yes, we did fight often but doesn't everyone?

'how often did often mean?'

it was just small things.

'and what's this call on...on july 17th, the transcript says an individual, you, called crying, scared?

a vase was accidentally knocked over.

'sure...and the hole in the wall?'

what are you getting at?

'did he ever hurt you?'

can we move on?

---- "But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end Another song, another club, another bar, another dance"

----

But we had fun.

We partied all night long. Sure, I had school the next day, but it was fun.

'did he go to the same school?'

i think he dropped out. like i said, we barely knew each other.

'you dated for over three years.'

We were young.

Back when we could drink all night and still function the next day. He had interesting friends sure.

I remember one guy, he was a blonde. He always had this smile on his face, he was always looking for the next high. He was a good friend.

He would always argue with my boyfriend on occasion. But it was always good fun.

'it says here that they were often seen physically fighting.'

they were teenage boys. of course, they'd fight.

I wonder what happened to him. It's been years.

'prison.'

what for?

'i'm not at liberty to disclose.'

hm.

---- "And when he said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France"

----

He was definitely rich.

'was it his money that-'

no. i loved him.

He wore brands that I would never dream of owning.

'but you eventually would.'

sure.

He bought me gifts ever y now and then. But, I wasn't with him for the money.

I did truly love him.

'it says here you missed school for a week, due to...mono...?'

'was it really mono?'

nah, we just needed a reason to fly to paris fashion week.

'he paid?

yeah. i told him i couldn't afford it, but he said not to worry about anything. so i didn't ask. and like that, we were in paris.

I think we were good together.

---- "So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed"

----

We lasted a while. But, life goes on you know?

We had a good run.

'do you still talk?'

ha.

'so no? if you did love him as much as you say, why'd you end things?'

---- "Til I remember every time he made a pass on my friend Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down"

----

I loved him more than words could express.

But I guess he just didn't feel the same way.

He was always watching my friends.

I actually don't know if I have any memories of him looking only at me when we went out to party.

'so he cheated?'

did i say that?

'it sure sounds like-'

assumptions kill.

---- "I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do"

----

We were on and off.

Sure, he forgot anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, important events, graduation, etc.

But at the end of the day it didn't matter. It was me who he came back to.

'it says here you filed a missing persons report.'

yeah, i guess.

'it says he was gone for a few weeks.'

he forgot to tell me about his work trip overseas.

'he had a job that sent him overseas at the age of eighteen?'

he had to pay the bills somehow.

----

"I wanna get him back I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

I wanna break his heart Then be the one to stitch it up"

----

But sometimes, sometimes? I hated him.

God I just wanted to make him feel like I did.

How could he think it was okay to dance with those girls wearing almost nothing. I mean it's crazy right?

It hurt.

I cried, and I cried, I got angry, and we fought.

But him?

He was always sooo calm. He never thought he did anything wrong. He was trash.

I kept breaking up with him, telling him I was done with him. Done with his games. Done with the pain.

'but you got back together?'

yeah.

'why?'

I wanted him to come crawling back to me. Begging me to be his one and only. I wanted him to feel what I felt when I saw him with other girls.

So I partied at places I knew he would be. I would wear the most revealing outfits I could.

I felt so powerful.

I would attend school, get straight A's. I was an academic star.

'why did you get back together then?'

He always showed up at my door a week or so later. He looked paler than usual. He would come disheveled, smelling like alcohol. He looked tired.

He would ask to talk, and we would.

The next day we would be back together like nothing ever happened.

'how many times did you go through this cycle?'

only a few times.

'how many?'

does it really matter?

---- "Wanna kiss his face With an uppercut"

----

I used to be a world-class fighter too.

He always did have this attraction to fighters.

I used to be a part of the underground fighting ring. I was probably one of the best, if not the best fighter there.

He wasn't too bad himself.

So every now and then we would spar, we would get each other good.

But at the end of the day, we would help each other. Stitch each other back up, clean the cuts, and wipe the blood. Kiss it better.

Sure, we had our lows, but we also had our highs. And our highs used to be pretty damn good.

But we were teenagers then. And we broke up not long after I left for college.

'and you haven't seen or talked to him since?'

no. it's been ten years. he was an ex. sure, i miss him every now and then. but that's probably the nostalgia talking. who doesn't miss their youth every now and then

'and you don't know where he is either?'

like i said. it was like ten years ago. he was an ex boyfriend. i moved on and he probably did too. now, can i go? my ass is starting to hurt and this cold ass interrogation room isn't doing my skin any favors.

'this investigation isn't over.'

sure sure, you know where to find me. if you miss me that much, just call next time. the whole military wasn't necessary.

'fine. but you can't leave this country, and -'

yeah, i get it. i'm leaving now.

'before you go, can i ask one last thing.'

quickly.

'why did you change your name when you were yonger?'

i was young. my car's outside, can i go now?

'alright, ms. park, you can go, thanks for your time. and if you do see him, or hear from him at all-'

i'll be sure to call.

---------------------------------------------

unknown number: out front.

me: be there in a sec ♡

unknown number: did they buy the story?

me: do you doubt my acting skills? how dare you even doubt me.

unknown number: sorry mrs. park i didn't mean to offend you. now come out to the car, we have a plane to catch.

me: thanks mr. darcy ♡

#lookism x reader #lookism gun x reader #x reader #lookism #gun x reader #park jonggun #jonggun x reader

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nikethestatue · 7 months

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When people say that Elain is 'infantalised' by her sisters and that she takes no responsibilities or accountability or that she just latches on to whoever would provide for her...

Really?

Because as far as I remember, Elain was the one who actually went out and decided to build a life for herself with Graysen. She was the one who stepped out socially, integrated herself and Nesta back into their community, and the one who made strides for independence. Not only that, SHE was the one who sought out the most powerful human lord, who had the most soldiers and the most ash trees, and got engaged to his son. She took concrete steps to guarantee that she and Nesta would be protected should and when the war came.

This is not about whataboutalism, but once Feyre ended up in Prythian, what did she do exactly? She stayed in Tamlin's manor and enjoyed her life. She was provided for everything and she was content. Nesta ended up with a whole lot of Tamlin's wealth, and she and their father and Elain all benefitted from it and no one was terribly keen to not take advantage of it. Was Feyre not cared for and coddled and helped by Rhys when she was horribly depressed and when he took her to Night Court? Did everyone not try to help Nesta overcome her depression? Everyone was coddled and cared for, but somehow, it's Elain who is 'infantalised'. Elain didn't have an adoring male to care for her--she didn't have a Rhys, she didn't have a Cassian. She had a broken engagement, and an unwanted mate, and two sisters who were dealing with their own crap and issues, and while they tried their best, Elain was sitting in HoW for 6 weeks after being Made, without anyone helping all that much with anything.

Yes, Elain lives with Feyre right now. So what? Most women did live with their parents or married siblings until they themselves were married. When exactly did women start living independently? The 1960s? Elain does exactly what most women did in her society--she lives with her married sister. Yes, she has room and board, but she also works in the household and the community. If a 500 year old Cassian and presumably Azriel don't have their own places and live in HoW, then why are they not considered 'infantilised' when they depend on Rhys for their wages, their housing, and protection? They work, they get stuff in return. Elain works, she gets stuff in return.

Just because Elain has a generally more positive outlook on life, and she isn't angry like Nesta or self-sacrificing and self-flagellating like Feyre, doesn't mean she is stupid or naïve. She chooses to be calm and friendly and proper. She chose to give Feyre the paints, understanding that a little bit of joy in the face of darkness is sometimes all that is needed. She chose to extend her hand to Nesta again and again and again--she chose to give her gifts for Solstice and her birthday. Stupid, infantile Elain was the one who chose to step up and rammed Truth Teller through the King's throat. Stupid, infantile Elain fought off the naga with her bare feet, and demanded that Azriel save Briar--someone she didn't know and someone who could've caused everyone's deaths. Stupid, infantile Elain was the one who pushed to save the humans and went to beg Lord Nolan for their sanctuary.

If Elain was a silly dog who only cared about comfort and didn't think about anything, she would've already accepted the bond and went off to live with her mate an easy and comfortable life, because Feyre and Rhys would've provided for them.

Truly, the lack of understanding of Elain's character is astonishing. Elain is a survivor. She is the protector. She is the peace keeper. She is not a stupid, infantile Elain, who is 'babied' by others. She is not really babied by anyone. Slowly, but surely, Elain is carving her own path in this new world and new body that she occupies.

#elain archeron #elain #pro elain archeron

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isa-beenme · 10 months

Text

I'm currently writing three things at the same time, but I felt a need to write something sad, something to break my heart and break all of you along, I can't be sad alone, thank you

The plot is basically: every bat boy's mate deal with depression in a different way, or "three different approaches of depression to three different brothers" (I felt so funny when I thought about this one)

So... do we want a part 2?

Trigger Warning: Self-destructive thoughts, depression

Prompt: Prythian saw the way that Rhysand's mate fell into depression but tried her best to get better. They saw the way that Cassian's mate fell into depression and turned it into pure anger and self-destruction. But... what if Azriel's mate simply... doesn't care?

What Was I Made For?

Sometimes I wish I didn't exist.

Not in the sense that I want to die. Far from it. I dread the thought of my own death. If I stop and imagine what happens afterward, I feel on the verge of panicking. Not death. Never death.

However, I like to think about how everything would be so much easier if I simply didn't exist. The number of responsibilities I could just let go of. The countless times I wouldn't have to rush and cry out of despair for feeling so useless would simply diminish. I would be so happy if I didn't exist.

I started thinking about this when I was 14.

It's been 500 years, and I remain the same.

Five hundred whole years where I feel inclined to ask the Mother to not exist.

But I do exist.

And that's what intrigues me.

I don't know who I am, and I just can't find something I like. There's nothing that keeps me here. Really.

That scares me.

A lot.

I mean, I spent my whole life studying in the Day Court, participating in politics, and learning from the High Lord Helion himself. I was supposed to be his successor. But then Lucien came into the scene and I became his spare. Or second in command. Works the same.

My objective was easy enough, everything I knew, I should teach him. And I did. We had fun. I guess. And then his father made a party to invite his "friends" for a celebration. He told me they weren't really his friends. I understood that feeling.

The Inner Circle of the Night Court sat across from us at the table. It didn't take long for the mating bond to snap between me and the Shadowsinger. The celebration became even bigger when he smiled at me.

And I smiled back.

I mean, how couldn't I, right? He seemed gentle and caring and his face was very pleasant to look at.

He courted me. He flirted, sent gifts, and traveled to the Day Court's capital every often to see me. I'm not sure what love means but I'm pretty sure it's something close to what I felt inside of me every time he looked into my eyes and smiled.

And yet, I feel I could not exist and it wouldn't change a thing.

But if I could make him happy maybe I would understand everyone's desire to be alive. I would understand what it is like to fight for your own life with the necessity to live another day.

That's why I accepted the mating bond.

We had a party. A dinner. A house. Vacations. Damn, the tower of gifts we had to open after almost three weeks of pure sex took me a month.

And yet, I feel I could not exist and it wouldn't change a thing.

We moved to Velaris. My role in the Day Court was long forgotten. I mean, I just said I don't care about anything, how could I care about a job I had just because I was good at it?

Being good at something doesn't mean I really need to live for it.

If so, I would be a dancer. Because I'm amazing at it, I have trophies, experience, and talent. But I'm not a dancer.

If so, I would be an actress. Because I'm amazing at it, I participated in hundreds of pieces, and interpreted tons of characters. But I'm not an actress.

If so, I would be a cook. Because I'm amazing at it, I'm the one in charge of making every meal and every cake for people's birthdays. But I'm not a cook.

If so, I would be a warrior. But I'm not a warrior.

If so, I would be a painter. But I'm not a painter.

If so, I would be a singer. But I'm not a singer.

If so, I would be a seamstress. But I'm not a seamstress.

And when I came to Velaris, almost two years ago I became Azriel's mate. And I hate it.

We easily fell into a routine with his Inner Circle. And now, there's no family that makes me want to keep on living. In fact, most of the time I feel even more exhausted when I'm with my family. Or Azriel's family, if I'm being real.

I feel suffocated by an enthusiasm and freedom I can't keep up with. My family isn't bad, not by a long shot, and certainly not up close. They are great. They stand up for the right causes, love to have fun, and are very liberal about any topic.

Except when the topic is me.

I'm the newest but also the oldest among all the female mates. And that kind of put me on a pedestal I never asked for. Something like: "If she did it, you could too, Feyre"; or else: "Even she couldn't do it, Nestha, don't worry about it"; I'm not a unit of measurement, but sometimes it feels like I'm nothing more than that.

Except when I'm with Lucien. He is the exception to the rule of 'I feel suffocated within the family circle'. I'm his favorite friend, obviously, but that's not the reason why we are so good together. He understands me and seems to grasp the feeling of not wanting to exist, even though we've never talked about it. So, he just exists by my side. And that's exactly what I need.

I don't worry about depression.

Or should I?

I am happy. Truly happy.

Not that people with depression aren't happy.

They must be.

I hope they are.

But sometimes I imagine myself going to a healer's office and pouring out everything I feel. But I never know where to start. So, I stop imagining.

I'm usually happy. Very happy. And this happens with my friends. Or anywhere away from my family. Everyone annoys me in some way. Except for Lucien.

Even when I'm alone, I feel extremely happy. Especially when I'm alone. Whenever I'm alone.

I actually hate studying. Which is basically my job.

But if that means staying away from my family, I seriously consider doing volunteer work at the Library during vague hours. Get a full-time job. Anything to keep me away. And contrary to expectations, I don't feel bad about thinking this way. I don't care.

And that scares me even more.

I don't care, and I don't react. Sometimes, I fall into a vast abyss of overwhelming emptiness, unable to separate reality from what's happening in my mind. I don't feel inclined to react with jokes or anything else. I don't care if they argue with me, yell, speak ill of me in the room next door, or debate on how to 'punish' me when I'm three steps away on the sidewalk.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

I've made my friends cry trying to prove a point I believe is right. It doesn't matter.

I've cried in front of friends so they'd accept what I was saying. It doesn't matter.

I also have the terrible habit of always wanting to be right. In everything. It doesn't matter if I'm wrong, it doesn't matter if someone will get hurt. I ALWAYS have to be right.

Sometimes I imagine I'm going too far in this abyss to the point of hurting myself. Or others.

And here's another characteristic of mine. I imagine too much. Most likely, I have three or four books written somewhere in my room. But I don't feel inclined to publish them or continue writing. It was just a phase. Just like everything else.

Just like my mating bond with Azriel. I love him, but… I'm not like the High Lord's or the General's mates. They… live for them.

I mean, Feyre is an amazing person, she's such a sweetheart. But as High Lady? I swear, she's more like a city mayor than anything else, she can barely read a full sentence without getting a headache from too much effort.

And Nestha? What a fearless female. She's amazing! But being the General of the Valkyries? Come on. They can't possibly think that, just because they cut a miserable string, they are actually able to fight as a battalion. Right?

Maybe I'm mean for thinking like that. Maybe I'm stupid. Or hateful. Or fake. Or cruel.

So I never say anything.

I keep imagining them. Every day.

It's fun.

Sometimes I like Azriel more than I like myself.

But I like most people more than I like myself.

Sometimes I hate myself.

Sometimes I like myself.

There's a thin line between my two states of mind.

Sometimes I think it's my fault.

Sometimes I think it's my mate's fault.

I don't feel bad about hating him whenever I feel anger spread through me. He also triggers the emptiness in my chest sometimes. He can be annoying with all his senseless conversations. The way he lives his life annoys me even more. Because he can do everything.

He's Azriel, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, the poor thing, the one who didn't grow up in a good place, the cute one, the funny one, the pretty one, the hot one, the smart one, the-

I don't know.

If I let the anger get me it will soon vanish. Just like every other feeling I ever let myself have.

You know the feeling of losing something you never knew you actually cared about? That's how I feel about my freedom. Not that Azriel took my freedom meaning that he restrains what I do or like I miss my single life (if I'm being honest I was never a lover to no one, Azriel was my second or third). But this bond took it from me.

I used to float around, doing different things every single day, but now I just fall down and down and down into my inner abyss. I could've been a dancer, an actress, a cook, a warrior, a painter, a singer, or a seamstress because I had the freedom to try it. Maybe I don't want to live for it but I want to live with it. Now I'm… his mate.

I used to know I was empty, but I'm not sure now that this bond keeps flooding itself with love and fear and pain and happiness.

I don't know what I was made for.

I don't know how to feel secure. But I wanna try. I don't know how to feel truly happy. But someday I might… Someday I might… try.

When did it all end? All the enjoyment. All the feelings.

It doesn't matter.

None of this matters.

Since I was 14, nothing matters.

And I wouldn't mind just not existing.

But I want to know what I was made for.

That's why I'm leaving.

#spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader

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stuffeddeer · 7 months

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just thought of the most rom-com scenario ever. reader is the new hire for the ADA and immediately off the bat, dazai is dazai. reader just takes it as the typical sense of humor and just laughs it off, thinking he’s not actually interested considering his many various ventures. eventually the two of them are assigned to missions quite often (with atsushi as a third wheel) and the two get along great in terms of humor, personality, work in the field… it boggles atsushi’s mind that the two of them aren’t at least going on ONE date. one night dazai tells him in a drunken stupor over the phone he has feelings for y/n but doesn’t want to ruin what they have. y/n ends up telling atsushi they don’t know what to do if they keep getting missions with dazai because one of these days they may slip up due to him just BEING there. he ends up confiding in both yosano and kunikida about it when the two are out of the office and they both just go “y/n and HIM??? anyone deserves better than THAT” but yosano means it in a more teasing way and kunikida means it in a serious way because. kunikida. thus begins a quest for atsushi; to bring the two together, and it drives him NUTS because the two both don’t think the other likes them. dazai assumes y/n would rather have interest in any other guy and y/n assumes dazai would rather have interest in any other person. this ends up with many funny scenarios such as:

1. atsushi leaving a note on dazai’s desk that reads “i want to talk to you in the hallway at __ time today.” and leaving an identical one on y/n’s desk so they can cross paths outside of working together and possibly start a convo and go somewhere. it backfired and the two just say “weird coincidence. everyone must’ve got this!” and wave bye

2. atsushi trying to subtly tell dazai y/ns favorite flower and he just says “oh, that’s great! are you getting them a birthday present early or something”

3. even kunikida being forced into trying to help by asking dazai if he is interested in hanging out with him and y/n (so he can pretend to end up being sick and it would just be dazai and y/n) and dazai saying “oh, is this some sort of elaborate scheme you’re planning on order to have a date with y/n and so it won’t be awkward with just the two of you? i’ll pretend to be sick when it happens for you!” LIKE GOD DAMM DAZAI STOP BEING INSECURE ITS YOU BOY?!

basically stuff like that goes on so much to the point where when the ADA is out celebrating a successful year of missions at a karaoke bar atsushi just yells out over the mic: “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH THIRD WHEELING HERE!!!!! Y/N AND DAZAI YOU BOTH likeeachother-“ and they’re just. WHAT

(SORRY FOR ALL THE TEXT LMFAO)

anon you literally wrote this for me idek what to say you’re so cool

Atsushi’s eyes widened. “What?! I can’t go on this mission, I have, um… an appointment.” Nailed it. “Dazai can take my place! He’s not doing anything right now.” Normally, Kunikida would have pointed out this obvious lie, but he remained quiet - pretty much everyone in the agency knew what he was up to.

Dazai actually was doing something for the first time in a while, but surely this mission was much more important. The brunet took off with you, headed out on an actually very unimportant mission you definitely could’ve taken care of on your own while Atsushi planned.

The tiger boy was quick to tell you and Dazai upon your return about tonight’s important karaoke celebration! And when you tried to weasel your way out of it, Yosano had practically dragged you down to the place. You were ushered next to Dazai as Atsushi and Yosano chose songs for everyone to sing. They said it was to make sure Dazai didn't pick something depressing or you would try to bail out again - this way, everyone had to go. But also... this way, you and Dazai would be stuck singing a romantic duet.

Of course, the two of you took it horribly wrong (in Atsushi's opinion), you both fully committing to the "joke song" Atsushi selected, wholly pretending in the moment. He'd wanted some romantic moment where you two realized you were destined to be together, but you both are just so stupid—

Atsushi had been up next, and was gripping the microphone tightly. He wasn't one to let his anger take over, but this was just getting ridiculous. As the opening notes played to the song he chose, he shouted out your deepest secret, and Dazai's as well.

You both like each other.

With slack jaws and wide eyes, every agency member stared at Atsushi in shock. He'd turned pink as he realized his mistake, muttering apologies as he placed the mic back down. Tense silence filled the air, the only sound being the scraping of Ranpo's spoon along the ceramic ice cream dish he'd ordered.

After a moment, Yosano started clapping. "Someone had to say it, and we all knew they wouldn't."

The rest of karaoke was horribly awkward for you and Dazai. You'd moved ever so slightly away from each other, completely embarrassed. What if Atsushi had just made up that Dazai likes you back? What if Atsushi had just made up that you like Dazai back? All either of you knew is that he had yelled out your biggest secret, and neither of you were too excited to sing anymore.

The lights had been turned on and everyone was gathering their things. It had been a fun night out, all things considered. Yosano got completely hammered and Ranpo couldn't direct his way home if his life were at stake, so Kunikida and Atsushi led the both of them back to their homes (with Kyouka right on Atsushi's tail). The Tanizaki siblings had left a bit before everyone for whatever their reasons were, so just you and Dazai were left standing outside the karaoke bar, awkwardly gazing out at the quiet city.

"So... tonight was different, huh?" You spoke anxiously, picking at a loose thread on your top.

"I didn't expect Ranpo to be that good a singer," Dazai replies with a polite smile.

You sighed. The last thing you wanted was for things to turn awkward between the two of you. "Listen, Dazai— "

"Do you want to walk home with me?" He cut you off.

You smiled softly, letting out a small chuckle. "Of course."

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shedobewritingalittle · 11 months

Text

Fourth of July

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Bucky visits the cemetery the first since Steve funeral, but he isn’t the only one that’s mourning on the Fourth of July.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: R

Warnings: Grief, self-harm, depression, death, mourning, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Listen, this has been in the works for a year, but I’ve been redoing this whole time. I wrote it listening to “Fourth of July” by Sufjan Stevens. Slight AU because I like to think that Bucky didn’t know that Steve was gonna do that shit.

It was humid in the city, making it feel a lot hotter than it actually was. He had started to sweat under the sweater he had pulled on and he tried his best to ignore the discomfort. The slight breeze made the various red, white, and blue decorations flap in the wind and carried the scent of someone grilling nearby. Hot dogs, he thinks.

As the sun started to set, the smell of gunpowder started to fill the air as the streetlights started to flicker on. Children ran past him as he walked on the sidewalk, sparklers held high in their hands. They giggled and laughed, their families yelling at them to be more careful. The man just keeps on walking, quickly crossing the street as soon as his destination came into the view.

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his cap covered head down as he walks into graveyard, gravel crunching under his feet. He hasn't been here since the funeral and he didn't really want to come today, but he knew he should.

A part of him still wanted to scream at his best friend, wants to ask him what was so special about Peggy Carter that he had to go and upend so many lives. The other part of him just wants to stand there and cry, mourn the loss of his best friend, his brother, the only tie to he had to his old life.

Yet, someone had beat him to it to that second one.

He didn't expect her to be kneeling there in front of the shining marble headstone, her body as still as the statues that dotted the cemetery. She doesn't hear him, or possibly just chooses to ignore that someone else was here to mourn over the same person today. He can see that she's saying something, but even with his super hearing he can't hear it.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, not knowing exactly what to do in this situation. Should he let her be, let her mourn? Should he call Sam and ask her to come sit with her? Raynor hadn't prepared him for this. He was barely getting his own feelings under control, so how was he supposed to help anyone else? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He had only met her a handful of times, with most of them being before a fight. The first time that he had met her, the first time he actually can fully remember meeting her, was after the mess in Berlin, when his arm was caught in a vice because none of them knew if he was still Bucky. She had smiled at him and said in a saccharine sweet voice, “I will not hesitate to put you six feet under if you do that shit again, understood?”. It was after that comment, after Sam and Steve had both look at her almost in shock, that the latter had introduced her as his wife.

Before he knows it, his feet are carrying him towards her, his footsteps almost silent on the grass until a twig snaps and announces his approach. Y/N's back straightens, her body tensing. Bucky's feet don't stop though, not until he is standing right behind her. She keeps her eyes locked on his headstone, tears having left black colored tracks on her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Bucky questions, immediately kicking himself for how stupid his question was. Of course she wasn't fucking alright. The woman was crying at her lover's grave on the man's birthday. You're a fucking idiot, James Buchanan Barnes. He watches as her eyes shut and she tilts her chin upward every so slightly, letting out a shaky breath. In the distance, fireworks go off, shimmering in the sky.

"You don't have to say anything-It's okay." He quickly replies, knowing that he wouldn't want to open up to someone that he hardly knew. Y/N sighs, her eyes fluttering open and she looks back down at the slab of marble. In front of it was dozens and dozens of offerings. Flags, small shields, candles, plastic red, white, and blue flowers, action figures of the man himself-all left by people they didn't know.

"I didn't think anyone was going to be here. I thought that since it was getting dark that everyone was going to be watching the fireworks." She tells him, her eyes scanning over the words on the headstone over and over again, as if the name was going to change, "I guess I was wrong."

"I didn't want him to be alone on his birthday." She cuts through his thoughts with a knife, stopping him in his tracks. Her voice sounds small, almost faraway as she continues, "I didn't want to come, didn't want to be here, but-but, I knew he shouldn't be alone on his birthday. No one should be alone on their birthday."

Red explodes in the sky, bathing them both in scarlet. Another flies past it- a green one this time-and bursts as the other fades, just as Bucky takes a seat beside her. He gives her ample space as he tries to get comfortable on the grass.

"No, no he shouldn't." Bucky echoes as he picks up a small action figure of Steve. The eyes are slightly crooked and the colors of his suit have been discolored by the sun, "Did he ever let you throw him a party? I tried, but the punk never let me. Always told me that we shouldn’t waste money on shit like that."

"A couple of times, but nothing too big. Just something small, no gifts, no frills." She answers, a faint smile appearing on her face, "Always gave me something to do. I've never been patriotic."

A bright white firework exploded in the sky, making it look like a thousand more stars had suddenly burst into existence before flickering out.

"You aren't patriotic but you married him?" He questions, holding the action figure in the air. She her smile grows ever so slightly as she shakes her head, her eyes turning towards the sky. Bright blue illuminates her, turning her cobalt for a few seconds.

"I see the irony in it too, don't worry."

There's a moment of silence between them. He looks away from her, his eyes focusing back on the headstone in front of them. The noise of the city celebrating still sounds then, the whistles of the fireworks flying into the sky, the cheers of happy children.

She had disappeared after the funeral.

No more public engagements, no more paparazzi shots. Sam had said that she hadn't been calling, hadn't talked to him at all since they laid Steve to rest. The lights were always off at the house she used to share with him in Brooklyn, but they knew she was home.

She didn't have anywhere else to go.

Her friends were either dead or spread to the wind. Her team was gone, splintered far beyond repair. She would’ve had her husband, but he had made his choice and now she sleeps in a bed that’s too big for her, in a house that’s too quiet, too empty.

"Do you think-Do you think we are allowed to be mad at him?" Her voice is no louder than a whisper when she decides to speak. Her eyes once more on the slab of marble, looking at it like the man himself was sitting there with them. She continues, her eyes watery, "I don't-I've been trying not to be angry with him, but I can't."

"I think so. He-He kind of screwed us over, didn't he?" Bucky answers, turning his head to look at her once more. Her thumb was twisting her gold wedding band around her finger, trying to calm herself, rating to rein in her emotions.

She was there was Steve came back, hair white and skin wrinkled. She hadn't said anything-No, she just looked at her husband, tears filling her eyes. There was no screaming, no sobbing, no real signs of any outward emotions other than her watery eyes. Steve had tried to talk, tried to explain himself, but she had just walked away. She knew what he did, where he had went. There was no point in arguing with him, with fighting over a choice he had already made so she didn’t. Bucky wonders if she had cried after that, if she had screamed into her pillow after being betrayed by the man she loved.

He didn’t know that an oh so familiar numbness had started to taken a hold her as she had walked away from the situation. She doesn’t remember any of the drive home-she honestly doesn’t understand how she able to drive at all. The next few days were a blur-she didn’t leave the house, hell, she didn’t even leave her bed unless she had to.

It had taken four days for it to finally settle in, for the pain to crack through and force itself through that numbness. There had been a lot of crying, of screaming during that time. Shattered picture frames, broken dishes. She kept to herself, not wanting to take her anger out on anyone as she processed everything.

At the funeral, she didn't say much to anyone. Everyone's condolences were met with a small smile and nod. She had stood in between Sam and Bucky in the front pew. Her back was rigid, her head held high. Her makeup and hair done perfectly-she had been the dutiful wife and now it seemed like she was becoming the perfect little widow. For a second, Bucky had thought she was processing this all well-better than him, at least-until Sam suddenly grabbed her hand in the middle of someone's eulogy. She had been scratching the back of her hands until they were bloody and raw, her pale pink nails discolored by garnet.

Another firework screams its way into the sky, exploding and illuminating them in emerald for a brief moment. She shifts in the grass, drawing her knees into her chest, making her look smaller than she actually is.

"I miss him. I-I don't know if I should, but I miss him. I still love him." She announces, barely loud enough for him to hear, "No matter what he did, I still love him. I-I wish I didn't, I think it might make it all easier."

"I yelled at him, both Sam and I did. He tried to justify it, wanted Sam to convince you to forgive him." Bucky confesses, his eyes still on her. She turns her head to look at him, brows furrowed, “He didn’t understand why you were so angry with him.”

“I talked to him before he-He didn’t want me to be mad at him. He didn’t want to leave with us with in the middle of fight. Didn’t want to leave it like that. He couldn’t stand it when we fought and these past five years-God, it felt like that was all we did. Everything I did wasn’t good enough fir him.” She looks back down at the ground, fingers picking at the grass, “I kept askin’ him ‘Why?’ and he couldn’t give me an answer. He told me that he loved me, but he also loved her. He acted that’s all he needed to say.”

“I know he had a family with her. Had kids, grandkids, the whole shebang. He had told me-He told me that after we fixed everything-after we brought everyone back that we were gonna settle down like we always talked about, that we could start trying and God, I knew it sounded too good to be true.” Emotion is wrapping around her neck like a noose, making her words strained as tears start to roll down her cheeks, “And I wanted it so bad. I wanted a family with him, even though things were shit and he was pushing me away, I still wanted that. I thought-I thought that finally everything was okay and I feel like an idiot for believing it.”

Her words hang in the air above them, above his grave. They weighed heavily on Bucky, forcing his shoulders down. Steve had promised her a family, a quiet life-some semblance of normalcy and had ripped it away for what? For a woman he knew less than a year? Bucky had asked him if he had regret what he did and Steve hadn’t responded. He had just changed the subject, deciding to instead talk about the quality of his hospital food.

“You’re not an idiot. You didn’t-You didn’t know he was going to do this. None of us did.“ Bucky replies, his voice just as quiet as hers had been moments before. She just sits there, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Both of them just looked at the grave in front of them, a dozen different emotions flowing between the two.

The tears on her face have started to dry. In the distance they could hear music playing, people laughing, and celebrating. They continued to sit quietly in the cemetery, the buzzing of cicadas and fireworks turning into white noise.

"Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?

Why do you cry?

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

While it is light

Well, you do enough talk

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Tell me, what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

We're all gonna die"

#bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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