#he started take me to church and i immediately started sobbing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedreverie · 1 year

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: husband ! andy barber x wife! female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When your mother dies after suffering from Alzheimer's disease, you struggle to cope with the pain.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. grief, angst, depression, loss of a loved one, andy being a perfect husband ( yes, that's a warning), once again. smut, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, angst with a happy ending, sad/grief sex, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, angst but fluff at the end. Mentions of God, fucking in a church. (oops.), mentions of alcohol.

𝐚/𝐧: This poor man! I always get hella muse for angst fics when it comes to him. One day I'm gonna write the fluffiest romantic fic with him but, today is not that day. lol. This fic is very self-indulgent and the inspo is from personal aspects of my life so I'm excited to share it with you guys.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k +

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

When the storms of life batter me, be the hand that I hold. When I have nothing else left.

She knew this moment was inevitable. From the very beginning, she had seen the signs, and over time, they had only grown more pronounced. Y/N could still hear the echoes of Andy's voice in her mind, offering comforting words. "You did everything you could, babe." But those words couldn't alleviate the ache in her heart or the invisible weight that seemed to press down on her ribcage, slowly suffocating her.

Tears streamed down her face, starting from the inner corners of her eyes and burning as they made their way down her cheeks. She sought solace in the sanctuary of her bed, hiding beneath the plush covers made of Egyptian cotton. Sleep became her refuge, a temporary escape from the harsh reality she was facing. She desperately wanted to believe that this wasn't real, that it wasn't happening. Just when she thought she could catch her breath, the respite was shattered by the memory of the phone call from the care center.

"Andy, stop!" Y/N giggled as he playfully showered her face with kisses, their bodies cozily intertwined on the couch. "Mmm. Only if you give me one more kiss," he teased, a mischievous smirk adorning his face. Their lips were about to meet when her phone rudely interrupted the moment. Glancing at the caller ID, she sighed, recognizing the number from the care center where her mother was currently residing.

In an instant, her demeanor changed. Her shoulders slumped, and the once radiant smile faded away. Taking a deep breath, she felt the soothing touch of her husband's warm hand massaging her back. Andy had witnessed the gradual decline in her mother's health, so a part of him was not entirely surprised. But as he saw her body tense up and tears welling up in her eyes, he didn't need to ask. He already knew.

The words echo in her ears, "I'm sorry to inform you. But your mother passed away last night."

She mouthed a small, tearful thank you, her voice already cracking, before placing her phone down on the coffee table in front of them. Taking a deep breath, she felt her chest tighten with a sense of dread that washed over her. Unable to hold back any longer, she broke down, her hands instinctively covering her face as tears streamed down.

Andy immediately enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close and holding her tightly against him. Resting his head against hers, he provided a comforting presence as she cried into his chest. Her body shook with sobs, and warm tears soaked her face. It all felt unreal. Her mother had passed away, and she hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, too consumed by her life with Andy.

"It's my fault, Andy. I should have visited her. I should have been a better daughter," she wailed, her cries echoing through the room. Andy shook his head, gently pulling her away from his chest to look her in the eyes.

"No, no, no, no, Y/N. No, sweetheart. You are an amazing daughter. You're an amazing person. And I know your mom thought that too," he reassured her, his voice filled with love and understanding.

More tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, no. She died alone and probably scared. I should have been there. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she abruptly stood up, running into the bedroom as more tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Her husband quickly followed her, stepping into their bedroom and finding her leaning against the bedpost. Tears blurred her vision as she spoke, her voice filled with anguish. "I can't do this, Andy. I can't face her. I can't." She sobbed uncontrollably as he slowly approached her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears.

"Yes, you can. And I'll be right there with you. Every step of the way, babe," he reassured her, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead, a promise of unwavering support and love.

The next morning was consumed by the somber task of planning a funeral and making arrangements for her mother's final farewell. Y/N anxiously sat by the phone, waiting for a call back from the funeral director she had spoken to earlier in the day. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, running her hands through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything else seemed to blur together - the funeral planning, the drive to the funeral home, and the day of the funeral itself. Andy noticed the profound change in her demeanor, the quietness and distance that had settled upon her.

He understood the immense pain she was enduring, as they both grappled with their grief. The most difficult part was verifying her mother's body and informing friends and family of the funeral date. While she could notify most of them through social media or text, having to engage in phone conversations with some was almost unbearable. Hearing them share cherished memories only intensified the ache in her heart. She knew it was their way of grieving and bidding farewell, but it did little to alleviate her own anguish.

To make matters worse, her husband had to witness her breakdown multiple times, offering solace as she wept. She was consumed by anger, guilt, and a sense of selfishness. How could she have let her mother down, even in her state of deteriorating mental health? After what felt like an eternity of making calls and notifications online, she finally joined her father and husband, sinking down onto a bench with a heavy sigh. Andy and her dad didn't miss her weariness.

"How are you holding up, angel?" her father asked, gently stroking her hair. Y/N looked up at her husband, finding comfort in his soft, reassuring smile, which she gratefully returned. "Not so great. But, I'm hanging in there, I suppose. How about you, Dad?" She posed the question, her lip caught between her teeth, her worry evident.

He smiled, giving a small shrug. "Oh, I'm alright. We can only move forward, one step at a time. God called your mom, and he had his reasons. It could have been cancer or something far worse. He called her home, and we can't continue to torment ourselves over this. It's not what she would have wanted.”

Her hands paused in mid-air, hovering over the boxes filled with her mother's belongings. The weight of guilt still clung to her, dragging her down into a sea of remorse. Thoughts of what could have been haunted her, tormenting her with images of her mother's final moments, alone in that cold hospice bed. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing the bridge of her nose in an attempt to alleviate the pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Let's go home, honey. All of us," he said, extending his hand to her. Y/N's trembling hand reached out and clasped his, and a wave of relief washed over her. She released a long-held breath, feeling a glimmer of solace in Andy's presence. As her father and husband made their way to the car, she was overcome by an overwhelming sense of guilt. She couldn't help but wonder if there was something, anything, she could have done differently. Was there a chance she could have been there for her mother in her final moments?

Her legs shook beneath her, and goosebumps prickled on her skin as she grappled with the weight of her emotions. Andy's hand enclosed hers, offering a measure of comfort that calmed her nerves, if only slightly. He guided her towards the car, understanding the turmoil that churned within her.

When they arrived at their home, her husband unlocked the door and led Y/N and her father into the warm embrace of their sanctuary. Without hesitation, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it onto the waiting coat rack. But as she glanced around the room, a strong urge to unpack and organize everything overcame her. She felt the need to keep herself busy, to distract herself from the turmoil within her heart.

Andy's concerned gaze met hers, and he gently asked, "What're you doing, sweetie?" His expression reflected his worry, longing to understand her actions.

She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her conflicting emotions. "I... I was going to unpack. I thought it would help me keep my mind off things," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

Andy's concern softened his features, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, offering her support. "I understand that you want to stay busy, but right now, you need to focus on taking care of yourself. Unpacking can wait. Allow yourself time to rest and heal," he advised, his voice filled with love and compassion.

She sighed, feeling torn between her need to distract herself and the necessity of confronting her grief. She knew deep down that Andy was right, that she needed to prioritize her own well-being during this painful time. With a nod, she yielded to his guidance, allowing him to lead her away from the boxes and towards a moment of respite in their home.

Andy's heart ached as he witnessed her anguish, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. He longed to ease her pain, to mend her broken spirit. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his arms encircling her trembling form. He murmured soothingly, his voice a gentle lullaby, as he rocked her back and forth, as if cradling their unborn child. His fingertips traced comforting circles between her shoulder blades, offering solace in his touch.

She bit her bottom lip. She wanted to leave it all there. "I can't believe what a failure of a daughter I am, Andy. A good daughter wouldn't have left her mom's last minutes being some sort of empty hospital room!" Tears started falling from Y/N's cheeks again.

"Oh no, honey, shhhhhh," he whispered softly, trying to calm her sobs. The weight of her words, filled with self-doubt and guilt, struck him deeply. He knew the depths of her heartache, the torment of feeling like she had failed as a daughter. He wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his shirt, his own tears threatening to spill.

"There's always going to be that feeling of guilt in you," Andy spoke gently, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and understanding. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for reassurance and validation. Cupping her face in his hands, he met her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "But I know deep down, she knew how much you loved her. You did what you believed was best, and even if she couldn't express it in those last moments, I know your mom loved you more than words can say.”

His voice quivered slightly, tears welling up in his own eyes, but he remained resolute, keeping their connection unbroken. Her bottom lip found solace between her teeth, a sign that she was trying to hold back her tears. She nodded, finding solace in his words, burying her face back into the nape of his neck.

As she managed to calm herself, her breathing shaky but steady, Andy's tears began to fall silently down his cheeks. Still, he held her tightly in his arms, his love and support unwavering. He brought his lips close to hers, placing a tender kiss upon them, a gesture of comfort and affection.

She pulled away slightly, her eyes searching his face as she cupped his cheek. "Don't you cry too? Please?" she whispered, her thumbs gently wiping away the tears that streaked his cheeks. His lips formed a tight-lipped smile, his hands moving down her arms to envelop her hands with his own.

"Hey, can you excuse us? I want to talk to my wife alone," Andy interjected, a hint of playfulness in his tone. She couldn't help but smile at his words, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood. Her father chuckled softly, understanding the need for privacy. "Nothing dirty, sir. Or raunchy. Promise," Andy added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N's father snickered, his laughter a bittersweet mix of emotions. "Okay, I'll leave you two young kids alone," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. But before he made his exit, she placed her hand on her father's shoulder, her expression filled with gratitude and understanding. "You don't need to keep walking on eggshells around me, Dad," she reassured him, her voice filled with warmth. Her father returned her smile, tears still glistening in his eyes. "I know you've been strong all day. Stronger than any other girl I know. You look exhausted. Please go lie down. Take a break.”

Her father's concern touched her heart, knowing that he worried for her well-being amidst the overwhelming grief. She nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "Okay, Dad." She gave him a sad, tight-lipped smile before making her way up the stairs and into their shared bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of her emotions pressing upon her. She kicked off her shoes, and began to undress, her mind swirling with thoughts and uncertainties. The bottled-up grief threatened to consume her. She wondered if a small nap and a hot bath would provide some respite, or if the lack of sleep and constant nightmares would further exacerbate her pain.

Lost in her thoughts, she was caught off guard when Andy entered the room. He sat beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of her turmoil. His hands gently took hold of hers, his eyes locked onto hers with unwavering love and concern. "How are you feeling, honey?" Andy asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

Her eyebrows raised, and she realized that amidst her own pain, she hadn't taken the time to consider how Andy was coping with their loss. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. "Andy," she began, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity. "How are you holding up?” He froze. He wanted to break down, to cry, scream, yell. But seeing her already vulnerable, the thought of sharing his emotions in that moment. She didn't need to deal with any of his bullshit on top of everything else.

Her voice trembled as she cut Andy off, her desperation evident. "Please tell me," she pleaded, her eyes searching his for answers. "Please, I want to know."

There was a moment of silence, filled with the weight of their shared grief, before Andy found his voice. "This really sucks," he finally spoke, his words heavy with the raw truth of their situation.

Y/N remained quiet, waiting for him to elaborate, to offer some semblance of understanding. "This fucking sucks. And that's okay," he continued, his tone filled with a mix of resignation and acceptance.

She nodded, her expression unwavering, as she processed his words. It wasn't the response she had hoped for, nor was it the answer she had sought. But in that moment, they both realized that there were no right words or perfect explanations for the pain they were experiencing. They were navigating uncharted territory, and all they had was their love for each other to guide them through.

"I'm sorry, Andy," Her voice wavered with a mix of guilt and sorrow. "I've been so consumed by my own depression that I haven't thought to ask how you're feeling during all of this." She sighed, her gaze falling to their entwined hands, seeking solace in their connection.

Andy's eyes softened, filled with understanding and empathy. "Babe, no, don't do that," he reassured her, his voice gentle yet firm. "Don't beat yourself up over how you think you should have felt or acted. Everyone deals with grief and depression in their own ways. Sometimes, our reactions are different, and that's okay." He gently placed his hand over hers, offering comfort and reassurance.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, a mix of sadness and guilt washing over her. She had already shed so many tears in the past weeks, yet they still managed to haunt her, carrying the weight of her emotions. Guilt for missing her mother, for mourning her absence, and guilt for feeling relieved that her mother was no longer suffering in that cold hospice room, alone.

Andy interrupted her self-loathing, his finger gently lifting her chin, redirecting her gaze to meet his. Her glossy eyes locked with his, and he moved his finger from her chin to caress the side of her face, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Remember our vows?" he asked softly, his voice filled with love and conviction.

Tears blurred her vision as her chin trembled, but a bittersweet smile found its way to her lips as she reminisced. "In sickness and in health, for better or worse, 'til death do us part," she whispered, her voice filled with the weight of their commitment.

Andy nodded, pulling her closer into his embrace, seeking solace in their shared strength. "What we have now could be so much worse," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "And the fact that we've managed to make it here, through all that we've faced, just further proves to me that what we have is real. It's forever.”

She chuckled sadly, tears streaming down her face, as she shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes met Andy's once again, a mixture of sorrow and love reflected in her gaze. "You've always been so optimistic," she managed to laugh softly, her voice tinged with sadness. She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "That's one of the things I love about you, Andy.”

He beamed at her, pulling her even closer as they embraced, seeking solace in each other's presence. Andy buried his head in Y/N's neck, giving her a tender squeeze, before whispering, "I love you, so, so much.”

They sat in silence, wrapped in the warmth of their embrace, until she decided it was time to retire to bed. She stood up, pulling the covers back and sliding herself under them. Andy had already changed into more comfortable clothes, lying next to her on his back. The feeling of the soft mattress beneath his body eased some of the tension that had built up within him.

She bit her lower lip, her knees pressed together as she pondered her thoughts. "How do you do it?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on Andy's face as he smiled warmly at her. She inched closer, tracing her fingertip lightly along his bare chest. "

How do you stay so... optimistic all the time?" Her voice remained low as she rested her head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The desire for physical intimacy welled up within her, a craving for connection and solace in his embrace.

"Because of you," he replied simply, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline. His fingers danced lightly up the back of her arm, causing a shiver to run down her spine as she moved her body closer to his. She tilted her head up, her eyes pleading and searching. Andy understood what she yearned for, what she needed. He wanted to ensure she was ready, that they were both in the same place emotionally.

He brought his hand up to stroke the side of her face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear that had escaped her eye. Meeting her gaze, he silently asked for permission. She nodded, her heart filled with longing. Andy shifted his position, hovering over her, propping himself up on his elbow as he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against hers.

"Andy, take away the pain. Please?" she whispered, her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

Andy couldn't deny her request, not at this moment, not when she looked at him with such longing and trust. "Of course," he murmured, his voice filled with love and devotion.

And with that, his lips crushed against hers as she eagerly accepted them. She parted her lips as his tongue slipped inside, their tongues massaging each other, desperate for contact. Andy moved his hand down, sliding her panties off as his lips trailed her neck. Y/N let out a small whimper, Andy's lips pressing kisses to the area right below her ear.

"So beautiful.”

His hand slid down between her legs, his fingertips brushing against her already swollen clit, making her shudder. Her hips bucked slightly at the touch. Andy's thumb began circling her clit as his middle finger teased her entrance. His lips trailed down her throat before returning back to her mouth, capturing them in a passionate kiss. He pushed his finger into her wet pussy, and she moaned into his mouth.

He broke their kiss and pulled his finger out before bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean of Y/N's juices. His tongue danced along her bottom lip and Y/N pulled away, giving Andy room to continue his path. His mouth closed over her left nipple, biting lightly. She moaned louder this time, Andy's hand caressing her breast before his lips moved on, repeating the same movements to her right breast, eliciting a gasp from her.

He sucked gently before releasing her nipple, pulling away as her heart sped. His fingertips brushed against her sides lightly as she watched him. His blue eyes connected with hers, smirking slightly.

She gasped again, his fingers entering her slick channel, her juices dripping onto his fingers. He pressed his mouth against her inner thigh, tasting her for the first time in ages before lapping her clit teasingly with his tongue, his fingers moving deeper. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, Andy's tongue circling her clit, his fingers moving faster, her body arching. He sucked on her clit, sending shock waves through her body as she moaned, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She came hard.

As he pulled his fingers from her entrance, Andy pressed his mouth against hers passionately once again, their tongues massaging against each other again. She moaned when his hardened cock grazed the inside of her thigh, Andy positioning himself at her entrance, her hands gently tangling in his hair. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

As he slid himself inside her, they moaned together, wrapping her arms around his shoulders,and pressing her face against his. He was filling her completely. He kissed her forehead tenderly, then her cheek. His blue eyes were glossy.

"Y/N.." He whispered softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

His mouth returned to hers, passionately and with need, slowly pumping in and out. Andy could hear her panting, his heart pounding harder, their bodies moving together as if they were made for one. He broke their kiss again, moaning slightly. He cupped her face, locking eyes with her again.

"I-Fuck, hun!" He cried out, as he felt the pressure building inside him again, thrusting deeper in slow rhythmic beats. She bit down on her bottom lip, desperately trying to quiet her moans.

"Shh. We have to be quiet, remember?" she whispered, her hand caressing the side of his cheek. Andy groaned softly against her as he continued pumping inside her. "I know. It's just...You feel so good…"

He quickened his pace again, moaning against her neck, his breath hot on her skin as he buried himself to the hilt. She came quickly, moaning Andy's name and her walls contracted around him. He could feel himself exploding and his hot seed fill her cunt.

As they rode out their orgasms together, his lips sought hers, pressing against her forcefully as their bodies stilled and her muscles relaxed. Andy collapsed beside her on his back with a small 'oof,' still catching his breath. She curled herself against his side, resting her head on his chest with a smile, letting the wave of post-orgasmic bliss wash over them.

Andy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, barely conscious as sleep overcame her. Andy pulled her body into his, spooning her. He knew how much she needed this. To feel loved. To know that he was always there for her. And no matter what, no matter what happened or what would happen, he would be.

He sighed, planting a small kiss on her temple before wrapping an arm around her waist. "Sleep, honey. I'm right here, Y/N. Always." Andy whispered reassuringly, a small smile forming on his lips, his arms and body curling into her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next few days became a blur, and as the reception began after the funeral, she wasted no time in seeking solace in alcohol. She had felt like a slave to her emotions for far too long, but not today, not at her mother's funeral. She would drown her pain with drinking, numbing herself to the overwhelming grief.

Secluded in one of the empty rooms of the church, she hid away from the other guests. Her bloodshot eyes widened when she heard the door open, revealing Andy on the other side. Sniffling, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, I know I should be out there," Andy said as he sat down on the pew beside her. "But I wanted to see how you were doing.”

She sniffled again, wiping her cheeks, shaking her head as fresh tears threatened to spill over. She lifted her glass, the red wine inside almost depleted.

"I just can't feel anything right now, Andy," she said, her voice cracking slightly as she took another large gulp from her glass. "I just need something. I need..." She paused, her hand covering her mouth to stifle another sob.

Andy could see the profound sadness and defeat etched on his wife's face. He scooted closer, leaning his forehead against her own, seeking to offer whatever comfort he could.

"Baby," Andy whispered, his voice filled with love and compassion. "I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could alleviate all of your suffering..." He moved his hand to gently cup her face, feeling the wetness of her tears against his warm skin.

"I love you more than anything." His thumb brushed away another stray tear from her cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against hers, allowing the kiss to linger for a moment before pulling away. Her breathing became heavy, and Andy knew that she needed this moment, this shared connection amidst the somberness of the funeral.

She kissed him back harder, tears still stinging her eyes and she swallowed them down before Andy broke their kiss. He pulled his arms around her, holding her tightly in his arms. His heartbeat quickened, his hand moving down to caress her inner thigh, shivering under his touch as he moved his palm under her dress and along her slit, she moaned softly as his finger slid inside her, thrusting slowly.

Andy's fingers gently rubbed her swollen clit as he leaned over Y/N against her inner thigh, causing another moan from her again. "Let me make you feel better. Let me make you forget, even if it's just for a moment," he mumbled against the shell of her ear. She nodded again weakly, Andy continuing his motions as she leaned in close, moaning loudly when he slipped a second finger inside her, moving faster.

He began kissing every inch of her skin as he pressed a third finger inside her slick pussy, bucking her hips up to meet Andy's fingers as they began moving faster again. She moaned loudly again with need when Andy's fingers slid in and out of her as his thumb rubbed small circles against her clit. He licked his lips before bringing them to the shell of her ear, biting it lightly as she let another loud moan escape her again. Andy rubbed harder as she squirmed slightly, her hips rising more.

"Oh god!”

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, causing another shiver before he kissed her hungrily, in an effort to quiet her moans. Andy continued stroking her as he pushed his finger deeper until she exploded around him, covering his fingers with her juices. When he removed his hand, she grabbed his face, crushing her mouth onto his lips before pulling away reluctantly and looking deep into his blue eyes as they sparkled under the sunlight peering through the window.

"Andy I..." she breathed out as more tears came streaming down her face, which she quickly tried to hide. He wiped her cheeks with his fingers lovingly before placing small kisses all over them.

He then pulled away as she lifted the back of her dress to clean herself slightly off before settling back into a comforting cuddle with him. Her face was streaked with tears, but a sense of peace seemed to wash over her. Her hand ran slowly across Andy's chest and neck, her touch gentle and soothing, before she brought her lips against his, kissing him deeply as the rest of the world melted away.

Even after the funeral, the pain seemed relentless, refusing to subside. Most days, Y/N stayed confined to the bedroom or distanced herself from Andy. She found herself pushing him away, a behavior she had vowed never to indulge in. Yet, here she was, sulking in bed, the ache in her heart growing with each passing moment. Initially, she had thought that drowning her sorrows in alcohol would help, but it only made her feel more miserable.

She longed for her mother, and no amount of anything could fill the void left by her absence. Andy's efforts, no matter how earnest, couldn't seem to mend her pain. In some ways, Y/N even resented him for it, for his inability to take away her anguish.

At times, she questioned whether she was deserving of love. After all, Andy had other responsibilities to attend to. But deep down, there wasn't a day when she didn't yearn for his presence, wishing he could help restore a sense of normalcy to her shattered world.

The ache persisted within her chest, but this time, it felt different. Andy would be returning home from work soon, and she couldn't quite grasp how she should feel. Intimacy between them had been absent for weeks, following their recent argument which often culminated in her seeking solace through alcohol-induced sleep.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared off into space, her mind lost in a sea of memories. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought hard to keep them from spilling over. The front door swung open and shut with a loud thud, marking Andy's arrival. His familiar figure emerged through the hallway and into their shared room, freezing momentarily in the doorframe. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, even as he stepped closer.

"Honey... I know you're going through a difficult time, and I understand. I struggle sometimes to provide you with the comfort you need, and it hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Andy began, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/N, I want you to trust me."

Andy paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. She opened her mouth to respond, but Andy pressed on, not wanting to leave any thought unfinished.

"I want you to trust me," he continued earnestly. "I want you to know that everything I have ever done is out of love for you. I have always strived to protect you, provide for you, be there for you, comfort you, listen to you, support you, make love to you, and hold you through all your emotions, whether you're sad, happy, or even scared... even when you're angry. I have done all of that and more, and I will continue to do so."

She blinked back tears, her eyes watering as Andy moved closer, placing his hands gently on her hips. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"I love you so incredibly much," Andy confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "If there was a way to make your pain easier, I would do it without hesitation. I would sacrifice anything because I cannot bear the thought of losing you. It would destroy me from the inside out, and if that were to happen... I think I would go mad, because that's how deeply I love and care for you. I know there have been doubts lately, and it hurts me to see you in such pain. Your pain is my pain, Y/N... I just want my wife back."

She couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and she began crying uncontrollably. The tears streamed down her face, and Andy pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She buried her face into his chest, clinging onto him for support.

Her tears flowed freely as Andy tenderly placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked, and he leaned in, softly pressing his lips against hers, kissing away each tear that ran down her cheeks. His warm breath against her skin provided a comforting solace. They stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes gazing into Andy's once again. For the first time in months, she let go of her tears, feeling a sense of release and acceptance wash over her.

She sniffled, her voice filled with remorse. "I've been a terrible person, a terrible wife. My grief has consumed me to the point where I've been pushing you away since the funeral. It's all still a blur, but I remember the hurtful things I said, and... I do love you, Andy. Even though I haven't been showing it well at all." Her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands as she confessed her shortcomings. "But... I'm still struggling so much with my mom's loss. And I've been taking it out on you... And for that, I'm truly sorry."

She squeezed Andy's hands and brought them to her face, lifting her eyes to meet his gentle gaze as he smiled softly. She wiped away her tears before speaking again. "I'm sorry..."

Her face buried in his chest once more, she continued to sob, the tears flowing freely. Andy ran his hand soothingly over her hair, resting his head atop hers. With each tear that fell, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, placing soft kisses on her cheeks. Y/N continued to cry, her emotions overwhelming her, until she pulled back slightly, resting her cheek against Andy's chest once again. She closed her eyes, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I forgive you," Andy assured her, pulling her face close and leaning down to kiss her forehead softly and slowly. She accepted his forgiveness with grace, allowing more tears to fall as he comforted her.

"I will always forgive you, honey. I will never leave you, no matter what. Even if you tried, it wouldn't be enough to make me go away. Because I love you with all my heart and my whole life. And if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you and making sure you feel as comfortable and loved as possible. Always."

He spoke softly, his voice filled with love and understanding, as he placed her hands against his heart with his own strong hands. He smiled warmly down at her, and she returned the smile, albeit with a hint of sadness.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world," Andy whispered, his words filled with sincerity. She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he responded with a slow and tender kiss of his own. The connection between them felt comforting and reassuring.

She then took Andy's head between her palms, pulling him close against her, and pressed her forehead against his. Andy wrapped his strong arms protectively around her, holding her tightly. In that moment, they found solace and strength in each other's embrace, knowing that their love would help them navigate through the challenges they faced.

divider credit: @.saradika

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfic #chris evans #angst #grief #husband andy barber #andy barber oneshot.#angst with comfort #angst with a happy ending

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bloodfin · 11 months

Text

the ghouls are having karaoke night. what are they singing you may ask?

dew claims his 'favorite' song, cigaro by system of a down, if only so he can jump up and down while screaming "my cock is much bigger than yours" into the mic. his favorite song is actually whatever rain has been singing in the shower all week, but he can't let anyone else know that

phantom immediately knows what to sing. are they drunk? call me maybe. are they sober? call me maybe

swiss puts on aurora's flapper costume from halloween and sings nasty by russ. no, it doesn't make much sense, but he's not wearing underwear so no one really minds. phantom has been on their knees at his feet the whole time, drooling a little bit while they palm themself through their pants

aurora goes next now that swiss has everyone thoroughly aroused, taking the mic to sing odelly's mon démon while making extremely prolonged eye contact with mountain and aether. the whole den smells like soil and ozone, and everyone is two seconds away from combusting

cirrus and cumulus go next, wanting to wail a duet and knock everyone out of their horny minds enough to get through the rest of the pack (it's just two more songs, but swiss went way to early). they grab mics and go to town: HERE I AM --- ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE!!!! It's a capella, and the two take turns between singing the lyrics and the guitar parts

aether and mountain were going to sing rock you like a hurricane, but quickly regroup and settle on my heart will go on. they turn it into a titanic remake, mountain holding aether at the waist while cumulus provides a good breeze for dramatic effect. no one is sure how they hit most of the notes

rain has to go last, everyone knows better or else karaoke night would have definitely ended early. this week he borrowed some of papa's vestments and threw down with take me to church. by the time he was finished everyone was sobbing and somewhere between half to fully naked, in various compromising positions. dew has been trying to get under his robes since he started

#nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #ghost headcanons #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost #aeon ghoul #karaoke night #ghost hc

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place-called-space · 1 year

Text

send me an angel [part i of 'sweetest poison']

word count: 2,601

Before they start their search for office space, Matt insists that they stop at Clinton Church—to pray for luck, of course. He doesn't know how Foggy convinced him to pray for a wife, or why he listened, but the next thing Matt knows, the smell of incense and old wood is overtaken by lilies and nectar, and you walk in.

So many things had changed after Matt lost his sight, but the sickeningly sweet scent of incense remained as stifling as ever. After years of being unable to filter through the cacophony of noise surrounding him, settling into the creaky wooden pews of the church with a deep sigh was a welcome reprieve, the incense dulling his senses just enough to stave off the migraines he so constantly found himself the victim of.

Today was no different except for the presence of Foggy at his side.

"So, how exactly do you pray?" he asks after several minutes of comfortable silence. "You ask for love and success in exchange for the sacrifice of a virgin?"

"We quite like virgins, actually," Matt corrects without skipping a beat. "They're a rare commodity these days, so we try not to sacrifice them anymore."

"Oh, I see. You just take them for yourselves," cajoled Foggy, nudging him with his foot. The wood of the pew creaked as he leaned back, turning slightly to leverage his elbow over the back. "You Catholics are greedy bastards, eh?"

"And I'm the only one that'll ever admit to it," Matt lamented with a sigh. He poked Foggy gently with his elbow. "Can I go back to praying now?"

"Right," Foggy said immediately, shuffling further away. "Take your time."

Matt shook his head, chuckling quietly before dipping again, fingers fiddling with the rosary held in his hands. He was almost done, with only one more decade to go. Sure, that may be another ten Hail Marys and a Glory Be, but despite how often he'd doze while praying as a kid, the repetition had become therapeutic over the years. Combined with the incense, it was easy to be lulled into an almost hypnotic state of calm, aided by the smooth surface of the beads and the occasional popping of the candles-

"You should pray for a wife."

Matt let out a startled laugh, catching the attention of Mrs. Akers, an old widow who'd been ancient back when Jack Murdock's mom would drag him to mass every Sunday. She turned in her pew but said nothing before turning back to the front with a shake of her head, the movement almost fond.

"A wife?" Matt asked Foggy, lowering his voice even though he was still chuckling. "I could ask for world peace, an end to poverty and starvation, or even money for our firm, and you're telling me to pray for a wife?"

"In my defense," Foggy said, the slide of cotton against skin betraying the fact that he'd raised his hands in surrender, "hundreds of thousands of people had to have asked for those other things, and all we hear are sob stories about how they were ignored!" He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know about you, but I don't hear any complaints from the people who've asked for love."

Matt paused for a moment. "No," he said eventually, fiddling with his rosary. "I guess not.”

He shifted in his seat, wincing when his bruised ribs twinged uncomfortably and hiding the expression by bringing his left hand up to adjust his glasses. Foggy wasn't paying attention to him anyway, scraping at a scuff in the floor with the toe of his shoe.

Years of ingrained loyalty to the church had taught him to be grateful for the small blessings and to never ask for anything more. And for years, Matt had obeyed, stomping on any blooming feelings of want or desire for success or affection. Even now, shrouding himself in black and baptizing himself in blood every night, he avoided asking for anything other than guidance for himself or aid for others, muscling through the pain he endured every night, a true soldier of God.

Would it… be wrong of him to ask for something for himself, for once? He'd been taking justice into his own hands for some time now, stopping what the police couldn't out of the goodness of his heart, for the betterment of his community. Did he deserve the comfort a wife would provide, the love she’d shower him with?

Matt's heart is practically beating out of his chest as he shifts his grip on his rosary, running his thumb over the little man on the tiny cross as guilt begins to crawl up his throat like bile. What existence would he damn his wife to? A lonely existence with a husband who only joined her in bed a few hours before they were supposed to wake? A life of struggling to make rent when he devoted himself more to the justice he sought at night than the one found in court? A marriage of resigning herself to always being his second priority?

No. Nobody deserved an existence as miserable as that, even if it would make his own more bearable. No matter what he'd done, no matter what good he always strived for, Matthew Murdock would never deserve such a reprieve.

…But surely, one prayer couldn’t hurt.

“Are you there, Lord? It’s me again,” Matt started, speaking low enough that only Foggy could hear him. “I need someone to be my friend—”

“Wife!” Foggy hissed. “You have to be specific!”

Matt turned his head in Foggy’s direction, amused. “You don’t think I can be friends with my wife?”

“Of course you can,” Foggy acquiesced with a steely note in his voice, “but you’ve already got one best friend, and I’d hate to claim seniority and break up your marriage.”

That last part got a surprised chuckle out of Matt. “Noted,” he said solemnly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Maybe send me an angel. The nicest angel you have.”

He spent the next fifteen seconds trying his hardest to keep his face emotionless as Foggy’s head turned ever so slowly until the full brunt of his incredulous expression was focused solely on the man beside him.

“You,” he started, drawing out the word in his disbelief, “did not just quote Lilo and Stitch.”

“It’s called praying, Foggy.” Matt shook his head in mock disappointment. “I’d have thought you’d seen me do it enough times to recognize it.”

Foggy heaved a sigh. “I have had enough of your smartassery,” he said, getting to his feet. “We should leave in a bit if you wanna meet the realtor on time. First impressions and all that.”

“Right,” Matt says distractedly, his attention pulled by the sound of footsteps entering from one of the hallways that branched off deeper into the church. If memory served, that hallway led to Father Lantom’s private office, but the footsteps leaving that hallway were far too light, far too quick to belong to the aging priest. No, this was someone else.

Well, hello, you.

Your skirt is long and flowy, made of linen and ideal for the warmer weather they've been getting lately. The hem flutters around your ankles when you walk, but as you pause before the candle-filled altar to light a votive, you raise one foot to scratch at your opposite calf, flashing a bit of soft, bare skin.

Matt's fingers give an involuntary twitch. Tease. You like a little attention. That much is clear from the tight shirt you're wearing—form-fitting and the sleeves low enough to wrap around your biceps while leaving your shoulders bare.

Your shoes are clean but well-worn. They smell of grass and soil, gum and sunflower seeds; you'd walked here, but only after taking a detour to soak up some sun in the park, clearly enjoying the weather. Central was too far to be feasible, so it was more likely you'd gone to DeWitt, where the grass was regularly maintained for the baseball season, hence the seeds and gum.

Still, your childhood must've had some form of worship in it because you're wearing a cardigan concealing the exposed skin of your shoulders. The addition is meant to make the entire ensemble more modest, but the slight tinkling of your jewelry calls attention anyway. No loud bracelets that clashed against each other with every move you made, thank God—only a few sets of hoops and studs scattered throughout the cartilage of your ear to pair with the simple necklace you're wearing.

Despite the understated embellishments, Matt sees right through the illusion—they're meant to bring attention to the long line of your throat, to the delicate bones of your clavicle, to the regal set of your shoulders. You want attention, but only the slightest bit. Your efforts to look effortless are not wasted—Foggy's heartbeat stutters when he finally sees you, admonishing words dying in his throat as he drinks the sight of you in, and for the first time in decades, Matt is envious of someone else's ability to simply observe.

The feeling quickly dies, however, because no matter how hard he (or anyone else tries), Foggy's perception is limited to superficial observation, while Matt's is so much more than that.

Matt can fully enjoy your scent, sweeter than the nectar of freshly bloomed flowers. He can bask in the taste of your skin, still sun-kissed and warm from the outside. He can relish in the sound of your blood pumping through your veins, spurred forward by your persevering heart. That closeness—that intimacy—was reserved for him...

...and him only.

The thought sent a rush of pride, warped and wicked, through him, and Matt couldn't help the sharp smile that split his face. Despite being born of humor and sarcasm, his prayer had been answered.

God had sent him an angel.

He must've looked particularly devious because Foggy dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

"She's hot, in case you were wondering," he whispered, resigned and conspiratorial at the same time. "Absolutely smoking. But I'm assuming you knew that already."

"I don't care about that, Foggy," Matt said distractedly, too busy listening to the brush of your hair against your cardigan—it smelled of lilies. "What's she doing?"

“Having a moment of silence, it looks like,” Foggy told him. “Which makes my staring at her even more creepy than before. Thanks, dude. Can we go now?”

“She smells so good,” Matt confessed in a hushed whisper, parting his lips to draw more of your scent onto his tongue. He was swaying slightly on his feet, and he grasped at the pew in front of him in a white-knuckled grip as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him—when had he stood up, anyway? “Are you sure we can’t stay a bit longer?”

Foggy startled a bit. “You can smell her from here?” he asked incredulously, the muscles in his forehead stretching as he raised a dubious eyebrow. When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy blew out a long-suffering sigh. There was the scratch of polyester on cotton as Foggy flicked his arm out, raising the hem of his sleeve enough to peer at the face of his watch. "Almost nine-thirty," he said. "We have to meet with the realtor at ten, so you have some time to try and get through the first half of your pickup lines."

And for the first time in years, Matt… hesitated.

There was a restlessness inside his chest, pushing him to approach you and introduce himself, to flash a smile and hope the dimple Sister Maggie used to compliment so much ignited your curiosity and drew you in. From there, he could go straight into charming you, learning things about you that his senses couldn’t tell him. As the weeks passed, he could bring you to his favorite restaurants, hold your hand, kiss your cheek, taste the skin of your throat as he guided you to his bed, hear what your voice sounded like as you moaned his name-

Okay… maybe not. Maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t say hello. Maybe he'd accidentally bump into you, have you make the first step in the connection he was already looking forward to fostering. It would undoubtedly be less conspicuous that way—much easier to explain away bumping into a woman you wanted to talk to if you were blind. An exchange like that could end one of two ways: the short, apologetic interaction which didn’t lead to anything substantial, or the extended, flirtatious conversation that might pique your interest and excite you enough into wanting more.

And even if you chose the former, that didn’t mean he couldn’t introduce himself properly if he, by chance, came across you again, unattended and conveniently available.

And if he was right and the two of you were meant to meet… well, far be it from him to question God's plan.

Mind made up, Matt sent a distracted smile in Foggy’s general direction. “Just… give me a few minutes, okay?”

Foggy heaved a great sigh, standing from the pew. “I’ll be loitering outside when you’re done. You better not make us late, Murdock!”

Heart hammering in his chest, Matt felt around for the end of the pew, practically crawling out of the aisle in his haste. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair and straighten the creases in his jacket before stepping forward, tapping his cane as he walked.

As he approached you, he could tell the exact moment you noticed him. The tapping of his cane announced his presence, and your hair shifted as your head turned to catch a glimpse of him. There was a small intake of breath as your eyes took him in, a slight tilt in your head betraying how you’d looked him up and down. Trying his best not to shrink under your scrutiny, Matt settled into the spot beside you, fingers searching for the candle the nuns kept lit for him at the bottom left.

You watched him curiously, taking a half step to the side to give him more room. It seemed like you were watching him, silently preventing him from burning himself. And though he was tempted, just for a moment, to let his fingers get singed by a flame he’d strayed too close to, he didn’t, simply picking up the lit candle and lighting another. He set the candle back down, taking a deep breath before bowing his head in prayer.

He probably looked nervous. He certainly felt nervous, a certain clamminess to his palms that hadn’t been there before. This close, it felt as though you were a magnet, drawing him in, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was swaying on his feet again, his body instinctively arching toward you without his express permission. Matt’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out and brush against your skin, but he tightened his grip on his cane, determined to at least give off the impression that he didn’t know you were there.

Your heartbeat was slow and steady in his ears, your breath similar as you, too, ducked your head, your lips moving soundlessly to finish your prayer.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

Again, Matt grew restless. He’d… he’d expected you to say something. An ‘excuse me,’ at least, not just move away silently as though you didn’t want to be perceived. Because Matt knew you. He knew by how you dressed that you liked a bit of attention, each small but elegant accessory bringing attention to you, accentuating your natural beauty. Every part of your outfit was perfectly tailored to draw attention but not keep it. It was as though you were intentionally keeping in the middle of the pack. No, this… this was done deliberately.

Well, two could play at that game.

Letting out a breath, Matt turned abruptly, swinging his cane wide and smacking you in the shin.

part ii: '(don't fear) the reaper' coming soon to a screen near you!

a/n: there it is! honestly, i've been so excited to finally push this out that i accidentally added an entirely new plot point so the next chapter will probably take a bit longer, my bad y'all. in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions about this fic or send any requests!

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #x reader #x reader fic #nmcu fic #nmcu daredevil #daredevil fic #marvel daredevil #no use of y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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themultifandomgal · 6 months

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From 2010- Funeral

2012

Part 24

Trigger warning- religious talk and talk about death.

“Hey” I see Liam and Harry walking into my bedroom wearing all black and a sad smile “the errm… the cars outside” Liam says as I look at myself in my black dress in the mirror

“I don’t think I can do this” I tell them looking down at my feet “I don’t want to do this”

“I know, but you’ll regret it if you don’t. We will all be by your side”

“How have I lost another person I love?” Tears start to spill from my eyes as I turn to face Harry and Liam

“ m’so sorry YN” Harry says opening his arms out and I run into them. Harry strokes my hair while holding me

“Guys we have to go” I hear Zayn say

“We’re coming. Come on” Liam takes my hand and leads me downstairs and out of the house where my dad is waiting with the other boys and Emma. Reluctantly I get into the car that’s following the hearse with Alex’s mum, dad and sister who are all crying. The boys, my dad and Emma will be following us in another car.

The drive to the church is quiet, expect for all of our sobs. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the hearse in front where I can see his coffin. My hand never leaves his mothers. Yes I’ve lost my love, but she’s lost her son all because of a drunk driver who still hasn’t been caught.

Once the car has stopped we slowly get out. I immediately go to my dad, holding on to his arm. I notice many of our old school friends, even James is here with I’m guessing his boyfriend. Not wanting to interact with anyone I follow Alex’s parents into the church and we take our seats

“The grace and peace of God our Father, who raised Jesus from the dead, be always with you” the priest says sprinkling water on the casket

“And you” we all reply

“We gather here today to celebrate the life of Alexander Williams, who has now returned to his home with Our God, The Father. I’d like to read a passage from the Old Testament. Wisdom 3:1-9 The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction.

But they are in peace. For if to others, indeed, they seem punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself.

As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself. In the time of their judgment they shall shine and dart about as sparks through stubble they shall judge nations and rule over peoples, and the LORD shall be their King forever.

Those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love: because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with the elect. The Word of the Lord” tears spill throughout the whole reading. I wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand “I’d like to invite Alex’s partner YN up here to read his eulogy” shakingly I stand up and walk to the front of the church where the priest was

“I wrote and rewrote this so many times. I didn’t know where to start. So I decided to just start with saying that Alex was the kindest human I think I ever knew. I don’t think he ever had a bad bone in his body. We met at high school, I sat next to him in maths which we all know was not my strong suite. Alex helped me when I was struggling. He loved his family and….” I choke up a little while reading. I wipe my tears and take a deep breath “sorry. He loved his family and friends and would have done anything for them. He also cared about others, strangers that he saw on the streets. More often than not he would be giving money to some sort of charity. I will forever be grateful for the time we spent together and hope I could only be half the person he was” I now turn to the coffin “I will always love you Alex, I hope you rest in peace” I kiss my hand and place it on the coffin before going back to my seat.

The priest talks some more, we do a few prayers before finishing up the service with the Lords Prayer.

“Why don’t we go for lunch?”

“Not hungry” I reply to Emma wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa staring at the TV that’s not even on

“Then why don’t we take cookie for a walk?”

“Dad took her earlier” I reply

“Come on YN. It’s been a week since the funeral”

“My boyfriend died, was killed by a possible drunk driver who hasn’t been caught yet so I’m sorry that I’m sad and grieving” Emma sighs at my response

“I know your trying to push me away, your hurting, but I’m staying here. You can yell at me all you like but I’m not going anywhere” I turn away from Emma and stare at the TV again

“I’m sorry” I whisper hating that I shouted at Emma. She’s grieving as well “I just keep thinking that this is a dream, a nightmare that I’ll wake up from”

“I know, I’m so sorry your having to go through this again” Emma pulls me into her side letting my cry “Alex will always be here with you. Why don’t we do something to honour him”

“I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for my mum. Maybe I could get one in honour of Alex as well”

“Love that idea, but before you book a tattoo and get it done maybe we should have a shower and brush our teeth Hmm?” I give Emma a little nudge

“Thank you for being here and not leaving me to deal with this”

“Always”

#6th one direction member #one direction x reader #sixth one direction member #one direction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles imagine

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sailorsenshishitposter · 8 months

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Caesar Zeppeli x Reader

Caesar Zeppeli

You have a thing for blondes, your favorite power puff girl is bubbles and you get too emotionally attached to characters.

First Date:

You hear that Caesar is now recovering in the hospital so you make your way there. You immediately ask him out on a date and he happily agrees (along with the bonus of getting back at Joseph). He takes you to the beach saying something about how a walk in the moonlight is truly romantic. You can't believe how beautiful the sea is. Then you notice something washing up on the shore."What do you think that is Caesar?" The two of you go to investigate. Upon closer examination, it seems like an old, wooden box of sort. Only the top sticks out of the water, the rest of it being too heavy to pull out. You then see something etched in gold. "D-I-O?" You're both confused. "Mama mia, why would God decide to show up here?"

Caesar then knew that he had to perform the best magic trick of his life before his lord and saviour. "I can't walk on water since his son invented that. Wait a minute, I've got it!" He then pulled out a bottle from his pocket. Caesar got his dawn dish soap ready and began creating bubbles. But not just any bubble. He then made Bubble Buddy.A soft "wrrrryyyyy" could be heard. "I think he likes it Caesar! Keep going!"

Before he could react the coffin began to open. Out came what appeared to be some sort of burnt corpse. Before you know what's happening, the creature takes the box and lifts it. Caesar is then crushed to death by it. You begin to sob as whatever the hell that is places the coffin in the water and begins to paddle away from the two of you.

You run over to Caesar and notice that he's still alive somehow. He raises his hand to your cheek. "I'm going to give you something before I go. This is the last of my hamon. Please take it from me..." He then kisses you goodbye. You try to treasure this tender moment only to realise something is in your mouth and you start choking. You manage to spit out a dead pigeon. It seems that Caesar managed to pull one last trick off before he died.

You glared at his smooshed remains while spitting out the last of the feathers. "Omae wa mou shimdieru!" Some time after you left, Joseph happened to pass by. "WHAT? THIS CAN'T BE!

CAAAAAAEEEEEEESSSSSSAAAAARRRR!"He began to sob and punch his fists into the sand. An hour later and he prepares to give his friend a proper burial. After digging out a hole on the beach, he fills it with caesar salad. He then places the mans corpse on top of it.

He gives one final look before filling the hole up. "Rest in pepperoni. You shall remain beneath the bloodstained sand." All that was needed now was a tombstone. Joseph decided to use clackers and knock down a local church. He quickly steals their gigantic cross and places it upon Caesar remains."

I really hope he makes it to Heaven. I mean, how can you be friends with a nazi?"

#jjba x reader #jojo x reader #shitpost #jojos bizarre adventure #caesar zeppeli #caesar zeppeli x reader #jojo part 2 #battle tendency #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #caesar salad

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thescrappyraccoon · 3 months

Text

CW: specific mentions of Christian religious abuse (the rapture, etc.), hell, death and panic attacks

•

When I was a kid, I grew up in a really harsh Christian religious home. My hellfire & brimstone preacher- grandfather pastored the church we attended, and I learned early on that the God of the Bible was vengeful, angry, and just waiting to punish us for our sins. The church was in the Pentecostal vein, so I was also taught that if I died without repenting of those sins, I would go to hell. That became one of my obsession-compulsion loops; I was constantly confessing of anything and everything, just in case I had sinned in a way I didn’t clock.

The summer before 3rd grade my grandfather found some movies and decided the church would host summer movie nights for families. I was required to attend, of course; “I’d the church door is open, we’re going to be there” my parents often said.

The movies my grandfather found were low budget Christian films (of course 🙄) about “The End Times”, AKA the years building up to the return of Christ when he would rapture all believers and take them to Heaven before brutally and horrifically punishing the sinners that remained through something called The Tribulation (the time frame when the Antichrist would assume worldwide power) before sending them all to hell.

Keep in mind, I was EIGHT YEARS OLD. I know I was made to watch all of them, but I only remember one called A Thief in the Night. I vaguely remember the sequences prior to the rapture happening, but bc I VIVIDLY remember what followed: Christians ego hadnt repented before the rapture and were “left behind” were arrested and executed by guillotine; others were trying hide in the woods but were being hunted down before execution. I’m certain that I dissociated through much of those movies. As a little one, they were absolutely terrifying to me, and immediately started having nightmares that lasted well into my 30s.

That fall when school started, I was allowed to walk home for the first time. On one particular sunny Tuesday afternoon, I walked home as usual. Our car was in the driveway, but when I went to open the door, it was locked. I want the doorbell thinking maybe my mom was in her bedroom and forgot to unlock it, but she didn’t come to the door. The back door was locked too, and by the time bc I got back to the driveway, I was having my first panic attack. I was convinced that the rapture had happened, and I had been left behind. I sat on the driveway and leaned against the car, hyperventilating and sobbing.

I’m not sure how long that lasted before I knew had to think of a plan. I decided my best chance of survival was to break the glass on the back door so that I could unlock the door. I would go in, get my toughest clothing and shoes, and fill my backpack with food before running to the woods. I knew there were 100s of acres where my friend lived a few miles away. I knew I wouldn’t make it out alive; I had been left behind, and the only way to get to heaven was to die a martyr. But at least I could try to survive for awhile first.

Soon after, my mother arrived home. On Tuesdays my grandmother and mother went to a nursing home in a neighboring town to conduct church services. They had been kept late for some reason, and while they were normally home long before me, today they had been running late. They could tell I had been crying, and scolded me for being too sensitive.

Fast forward to tonight. I’m laying in bed snacking and watching TV while resting from a busy-for-me day. A helicopter or low flying plane flew over my house, loud enough to rattle the window in my room. A few minutes later, I realized I was still calm.

There were YEARS—from the day on the driveway until my late 30s—when that would have sent me spiraling. I lived in constant fear about the rapture, the Antichrist, persecution of Christians, etc. But tonight, I didn’t react. I noticed it bc it was loud, but nothing else. I smiled to myself and thought “Wow. I’m ok.”

Sometimes when we’re in recovery from complex trauma, it can feel like we’re not making progress. Just earlier today I got so triggered by something related to my ex, and then a part of me was so frustrated that it still bothers me. But the truth is, it’s still fresh. My divorce was only finalized **last week.**

These might seem disconnected but truthfully, I NEEDED that place to fly over so I could see at least some forward momentum. If I can get over that, I can get over this. I’m going to be ok. Someday, a similar thing will happen, a thing that triggers me about my ex, and I’ll realize I’m not reactive. I’m ok. That day isn’t today, but it will be. I will be ok.

Image description: a Caucasian woman lies against 2 blue and 1 turquoise pillow. Her hair is purple, almost chin length on the right side and shaved on the left side. She is wearing a gray t-shirt.

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thegreenleavesofspring · 6 months

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How do you tear yourself away once you created a hole of sin for yourself? I'm trying to stop sinning- especially with what I ship (I won't go into details but it's bad) I want to go back to christ and I don't know what to do

Me personally? Usually several weeks to a month of combination beating myself up and sulking before I break and end up ugly crying on my bathroom floor or under my couch or somewhere else weird while sobbing out prayers. It's not a process I actually recommend, however.

More seriously, though. There are a few things to keep in mind:

He actually really, really wants you to talk to Him again. He wants to restore that broken relationship. He is not standing ready with a rod - those stripes already fell on another back. He is standing ready with a hug and immeasurable love.

No matter how filthy you feel (and I speak here from experience) His blood is sufficient to wash it all gone. Say the word and repent, and it'll be gone. One of Satan's favorite tactics is tricking us into beating ourselves up over something that the very God of the Universe has obliterated from His memory.

(This is a lesson that I'm still learning.)

That part is, once you can screw yourself up to it, easy enough. It's easy enough to repent. It's breaking the habit of the sin that is oh so hard. Not backsliding right back into it all. And I'm sorry, there is no quick and easy fix for that. (I really wish there were.) It's a teeth-gritted drawn out process. I do some of the usual recommendations - a bit of Bible reading every morning, forcefully turning my thoughts into other directions, thinking of what He suffered for our sin - this can make you lose your taste for it, at least right then, very abruptly; to think of yourself pounding in the nails - any sort of distraction to pull one's mind away from the immediate temptation and back to God.

That said, I'm going to be presumptuous and make some guesses and assertions based on you saying the problem is your shipping specifically. And I'm going to guess that maybe you've got some unhealthy relationships with relationships in general, or will. Or maybe not! But maybe look into that.

That aside, it might be useful to look into what, exactly, about the ship or ships draws you in. If it's just straight-up perversion, yeah scrap that for good. If there are other elements, however, deconstruct it and pick out what exactly it is that you like. Is it the characters' personalities? Backgrounds? Chemistry? Something else? If you can take the elements that aren't sinful and apply them elsewhere, you can start realigning your own preferences into something healthier.

That's the thing; all relational and sexual perversion is Satan's twisting of something very, very good - something designed specifically to mirror Christ's relationship with His Church. There's nothing inherently wrong with shipping as long as it's done right, or liking two compatible characters. I've seen a lot of people do genderbenders to make M/M or F/F ships M/F; I've got no personal opinion on that either way.

But ultimately: pray. Pray pray pray pray pray pray pray. You can't do this. Straight up? You can't do it. Not by your own power. You have to want to. You have to be willing to strive to. But you'll never, ever do it alone. You can't. He's got to do His work in you. And you have to ask Him to.

You can't tear out of that hole. The only way to get out of that hole is to just suck it up and go "Hey. God. I really messed up, I messed up so much, and I need You to do something about it." Pride is a big fat horsechoker pill going down (speaking from experience) and it can make a body squirm to go crawling back feeling absolutely filthy (speaking from experience) especially if it's instance 3,257 of the exact same sin you've been trying to kick for years (speaking from experience) but it is, in the end, the only way out. You've gotta ask Him to throw you a rope, and the only way to do that is to start praying. Some denominations have you Confess it to either a priest or a member of a congregation, but ultimately you're going to have to pray about it anyway. (Speaking from experience.) No matter how much your flesh really, really, really doesn't want to.

I know the guilt looks like an impassable brick wall. I promise it's not. It's an illusion. He's got a wrecking ball that can shatter those bricks into nothing and He's waiting for you to ask Him. Doesn't matter how many bricks, how high, how thick. That Blood can wash it all away.

TL/DR: Pray. Especially if you don't feel like you can or should.

I'm praying for you, Anon. ❤

#fandom anon

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starlit-summer-nights · 2 years

Text

No More Pain- Mother! Reader x Son! Butters (fluff)

TW- Infertility, Child Abuse

hey everyone! so this is a little outside of what I usually write. I recently watched South Park again and I realized there is absolutely no fanfiction on a mother reader adopting butters as their son. so here’s a wholesome lil story about you adopting butters and taking him away from his evil parents :)

The cold, hard rain pounded on the hills of the Colorado Soil. The same little peaceful mountain town you always knew.

You recently had moved here from Denver. Denver was only about an hour away so you could still see your family frequently and they were very close by. You recently had gotten married with your husband Lee Johnson. Lee was a wonderful man and treated you like absolute royalty. All you could’ve ever hoped and prayed for.

You had a nice little cottage a little ways from town. It seemed almost too perfect, a little cottage for you and your husband to spend the rest of your days in.

Except, there was a piece missing.

“I’m sorry Mrs.Johnson, it seems that your eggs are.. infertile.” The doctor spoke softly, laying down his clip board.

The doctor had actually been an old friend of Lee’s, they had gone to school together for a while and became close. His name was Dr. Rick Morrison.

You felt everything in your world absolutely shatter. The world had felt like it stopped turning for a moment.

“What.. no! There has to be a mistake!” You protested, immediately going into denial.

The doctor looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do. I know you both were very excited to have children. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to support you both through this.” He looked sad too, and grieved with you.

You thanked him and he hugged you. He was a great man and he always had looked out for you when you needed a check up.

You got in the car and tried to compose yourself. This was not something you easily could recover from.

On the way home, you worried how you were going to break the news to your husband. He was going to be just as, if not more devastated than you are.

You let a few tears slide down your cheek. You were trying so hard to hold it together, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel of you car.

You looked at the picture you had of you and Lee on your wedding day, sitting on the stairs of the local church.

And then to the baby clothes you had bought on sale that your friend was giving away, just in case the miraculous day finally would happen for you too.

You looked up to the sky.

“Why couldn’t it be us?” You questioned, as if asking God why.

You pulled over on the side of the rocky road. There was already one bad thing about today, you didn’t need another to happen.

You let everything out. You screamed, you cried, you hit your dashboard.

You finally had calmed down. You had accepted it. You and Lee would never have a child.

And maybe.. all you needed was eachother after all.

You started the car back up, driving away from the side of the road.

You had entered back into town, a few minutes away from your house.

Just then, you see something that makes your heart lurch.

A small, young boy, huddled next to dumpster.

His head was hung.. almost like he was crying and weeping.

Your flight or fight response set in. What if it was a trap to lure you in? You were a lone woman, after all.

But.. he was so small and frail..

Well.. if you were gonna die, you were gonna die trying to save a child, at least.

You parked your car a little ways back, so you wouldn’t scare him.

You gently closed your car door, making sure that wouldn’t scare him off either.

You finally got to the dumpster, a few feet away from where he was.

He was indeed crying. Sobbing, in fact.

His cries absolutely broke your heart. No little boy should be crying like that.

And then you looked to his body. His body almost seemed lifeless, so emancipated and thin. Like he hadn’t eaten in years.

He looked to be dirty too. His skin was covered in dirt.

You finally mustered up enough courage to speak.

“H-hi there.” You spoke gingerly, not wanting to spook him.

The boy immediately jumped, letting out a scream.

“No, no! I’m not here to hurt you I-I promise!” You defended yourself, throwing your hands up.

He calmed down and looked at you for a minute. He seemed to be.. at ease, almost.

“Who-who are you?” He questioned, curiosity in his voice. He had a light little voice with a touch of a southern drawl.

You stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N Johnson. What’s your name?” You gently smiled, trying to show him it was okay to approach you.

“Uh-uh.. Butters, ma’am. Butters Stotch.” He replied nervously, cautiously taking your hand.

“Nice to meet you Butters,” you smiled at him gently.

“What are you doing out here on a cold rainy night like this?” You sat down in the snow gently next to him.

“My-my parents locked me out of the house. They told me I should never come back. I don’t know what I did.. I was just playing action figures in my room and then my dad came in and slapped me and then my mom told me I was never allowed back in.” He began to cry, the hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

You felt your heart break, a huge pit in your chest. A sweet, precious boy like him should never have to go through something like that.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that,” you spoke softly.

“Would you like a hug? I know that has to be very scary.” You opened your arms out for a hug, you just wanted to comfort him until he stopped crying.

He finally looked up at you. He was a beautiful little boy. Baby blue eyes, light blonde hair, a small, little button nose, long eyelashes, and a few freckles here and there.

His eyes held so much emotion. You could almost feel like in that moment he finally accepted that you were trying to help him.

“S-sure, Miss.Johnson.” He moved closer to you, wrapping his little arms around you.

You made sure to gently hug him back. He was so thin, you were scared to even touch him.

“Hey.. it’s kind of cold out here and wet.. I have a car parked over there with a heater and I have some stuff I could dry you off with, would you like that?” You looked down at him, he had his little head leaned against your shoulder for support.

He looked up at you with pure innocence in his eyes.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind doing that?” He almost seemed shocked that you would do such a thing to take care of him.

“Of course not.” You smiled back at him.

“Come on. It’s over here.” You stood up gently, him not letting go of you.

You carried him to your car, sitting him in the back. He felt so light.

You took all the baby blankets and clothes you had and tried your best to remember how to swaddle. You also had some towels in your car too so once you had swaddled him with the blankets and clothes, you draped as many towels as you could on him.

“That alright, Butters?” You questioned, looking at him.

He snuggled into the warmth.

“It’s very nice. I’m starting to feel warm again.” He replied.

“Good. Hang tight, okay? I’m going to take you to my house. We have lots of food and a place where you can sleep, okay?” You smiled at him again, buckling him up. You also had a booster seat in you car from when you had babysat your cousin’s kids and she wanted you to have it just in case.

“O-Okay Mrs.Johnson.” He replied softly.

You finally saw a little smile spread across his face.

What a truly angelic sight.

You gently kissed his forehead and got in the driver’s seat.

You dialed up your husband and told him what was going on.

He was ready to help too.

You finally got to your cottage. You carried Butters inside and sat him down on the couch.

You ran a hot bath, with your husband monitoring Butters.

You both helped give him a nice, warm bath, which helped him warm up immensely. He finally was clean too.

But, another sight that broke your heart.

There were scars, littered all over his back. Some big and some small.

You spared a sad glance at your husband, almost with a few tears in your eyes. Your husband shared your sympathy, with him wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

Butters was fast asleep on the couch, under a big, warm, fluffy blanket.

You had given him some warm, fuzzy pajama’s your cousin’s son accidentally left over at your house.

He looked like an absolute angel fast asleep.

Poor thing probably hadn’t slept well in a while.

Your husband had already started the fire, which helped him warm up.

“Well, darling, what do we need to do now? He’s fast asleep and the poor thing probably hasn’t slept in ages.” You looked at your husband, who eyed the boy sadly.

“Do you think he’s hungry? He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a while.” He questioned, looking back at you.

“It’s worth a shot. I’ll go wake up him if you could get the food.” You nodded.

“Done and done, sugarplum.” He kissed your forehead before walking off to the fridge.

You softly put your hand on Butters’ shoulder.

“Butters, sugar, wake up for just a minute.” You spoke softly.

He stirred and fluttered his eyes open.

“Are you hungry?” You smiled, looking into those sweet, innocent blue eyes.

“I am a little.. the last time I ate was right before you found me. I found a bag of 2 half eaten donuts. I figured.. that would have been enough to last me for a little while.” He explained, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

Your heart absolutely broke into pieces for a third time. How long had he been doing this?

“Well, we have some food that you can have. What would you like?” You smiled.

“W-well, I like pancakes.. but it’s 12 in the mornin’.” He rubbed his fingers together nervously again.

“Well sweetheart, we’ll make those for you if you want them. My husband here is actually amazing at making pancakes.” You encouraged, you really wanted him to eat.

“O-okay. If that’s okay with you.” He softly said back.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you like tv? While he makes those for you we can watch TV together if you want.” You sat next to him.

“Uh.. sure. I like Terrance and Phillip sometimes and sometimes Little Bunny Foo Foo.. (I’m making it a show lol).”

You remembered looking up that show for your cousins you babysit.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me look that up for you.” You smiled, grabbing the remote.

Yup, exactly as you remembered, channel 444.

“Here you go, Butters.” You smiled, laying down the remote.

“Thanks.. Ma..Ma..” he drifted off back to sleep.

You felt your heart absolutely flutter in delight. You wanted nothing more than to be called Mama. A few tears escaped your eyes.

“You heard that too, right?” You whispered to your husband in the kitchen, who was cooking pancakes in the kitchen.

“I did, baby.” He smiled, serving the pancakes on a plate.

“So what did Rick tell you?” He turned, hugging you from behind.

“Uh.. uh.. yeah.. I was gonna tell you.. before I.. I got back..” you stuttered, afraid of what his reaction was going to be.

“I’m infertile, honey.” You looked up at him, tears threatening to spill again.

He held a shocked expression, but immediately ran to your side and held you.

“I’m here, I’m here baby. We’re going to get through this. I love you.” He repeated, holding you tight.

“I love you too.” You sighed, holding him just as tight.

Butters eventually woke back up and ate, like a wolf that had just caught it’s piece of prey. That poor boy was absolutely starving, but you felt so grateful you could help him eat again.

It was way past his bed time, so you had decided to put him back to sleep on the couch so you could keep an eye on him.

Your husband had gone to bed and asked you to let him know if Butters had any problems. You told him you would keep an eye on him.

Eventually, however, you had fallen asleep, with Butters propped up on your right shoulder.

Morning had come. Butters was reported missing. You wondered how that could work, because his parents had shut him out of his own house.

Eventually, the police had been called to find him. Butters parents had their house investigated and they were questioned thoroughly before being arrested on charges of child neglect, premeditated murder and child abuse.

The next few months, everything began to fall perfectly into place. You and your husband volunteered to foster Butters until he could find a new home. Butters had been eating regularly, had made art for you and your husband to hang on the fridge, and seemed to be getting his personality back.

“Honey, I think it’s time.” Your husband smiled at you, beaming with glee.

You were confused. “Huh?”

“I emailed the foster care place. They said we can come in to sign the adoption papers later today.” He smiled, taking your hands gently.

“R-really? Are you sure? It’s only been about 3 months..” you replied nervously.

“I think we’re more than ready. Look how we’re worked together as a team that night. We’ve waited so long for this and we’re on the brink of it.. do you really want to wait that much longer?” He questioned, care in his voice and his forest green eyes.

You felt determined. That child was going to be yours and your family would finally be complete.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You grinned at your husband.

You had taken Butters with you too the foster care place, walking up to the front desk.

You signed the papers inconspicuously, making sure Butters didn’t see. You wanted this to be a complete surprise to him.

Once you signed the papers, you thanked the lady at the front desk and went out to the car, but not before a cheerful smile and a “congratulations” was said.

You and your husband smiled to yourselves, but a confused Butters looked at you curiously.

Your husband held Butters while you got his little shirt. You had it in your closet just in case you decided to ever adopt a child.

And lucky you, today was that day.

Butters read the shirt.

“Happy.. Gotcha Day..” he read softly.

He immediately began to tear up.

“Are.. are you my parents now?” He questioned, looking up at you and your husband.

You and your husband both grinned ear to ear.

“That’s right. Welcome to the family, Mr. Butters Stotch Johnson.” Lee smiled, kissing the little boy on his forehead.

“Welcome home, my beloved angel.” You walked up to him, kissing his forehead.

From then on, Butters was the answer to your prayer, the angel sent from the heavens. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. ❤️

#south park #southpark butters #butters stotch #mom reader #south park fanfiction #Spotify

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whumpdom · 1 year

Text

Andersen Men

Sicktember Day 3: “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Description: James is sick but Trent needs someone to keep him together.

Trent is 26 James is 25. TW for content; mentions of child abuse, assault, and panic attacks.

The drive back to his apartment is normally one of James’s favorite parts of his day. He turns up the radio and can drown out all the chaos in his mind. Today, however, the drive is proving tedious at best. There’s a deep-seated exhaustion sitting in his bones and the beginning of a headache creeping in. James rolls his muscular shoulders and tries to blink away the fatigue; the day isn’t over yet. Before he can go home and pass out in his bed, he needs to stop by Trent’s place and check up on him. Daisy and Aiden are out of town on some kind of “writing retreat”, and James had promised to check up on the young lawyer.

James pulls up outside of the rundown apartment building that Trent lives in and parks his truck. As he steps out, he winces when the throbbing in his head picks up slightly. He shrugs it off and walks towards the stairs. His father’s voice echoes in his head.

“Andersen men don’t take sick days, son”

The sentiment has held true for the most part, James can’t recall a single time his father missed work or church because of illness ,and James has worked through nearly every sickness and injury unless he couldn’t physically get out of bed. Save for the time he got a concussion during a training exercise, and was ordered to be on bed rest, James has never taken a sick day. He has on multiple occasions boasted about his ‘Immune system of steel’, something that is evidently failing him at the moment.

When James gets to the front door of Trent’s apartment, he pauses to clear his throat, before knocking. He can hear Trent on the other side of the door, pacing and muttering, it’s not a good sign. After a few moments, Trent opens the door and James’s concern immediately increases. His friend looks to be on the verge of a full blown breakdown. His eyes are blown wide and it’s clear he’s been crying. Trent’s lower lip is raw and slightly bloody from when he’s been chewing it. There’s some dried blood on his knuckles and James has no doubt he’ll find a new dent in one of the apartment walls.

“Hey man, what happened?”

James' voice is soft and cautious as he walks into the living room. Trent starts pacing again, looking like a caged animal. His shoulders are shaking and his breathing is bordered on hyperventilating. Trent doesn’t respond to James' question at first. James waits patiently, he knows how easily Trent can be startled when he’s like this. After a few minutes, Trent drops down on the couch and hunches over. He sucks in a shaky breath and then looks up at James with red-rimmed eyes.

“I, h-he was t-there. At the office today, Wilton Blakely.” Trent whispers. The name is unfamiliar to James, but it clearly holds some significance with Trent. “He c-came up to me and t-t-touched me. Kept going on about how great m-my f-father was.”James sits down on the couch a few inches from Trent and places a hand on his friend's knee to help ground him.

Trent chokes back a sob and swallows thickly. His eyes begin to dart around the room. James can sense the impending panic attack and he squeezes Trent’s knee firmly. “Did he hurt you?”James asks carefully. Trent shakes his head and leans into James ever so slightly. He sucks in an unsteady breath before speaking, his voice barely a whisper.

“W-when I was eight, my parents had some dinner party and I spilled some water on him.” Trent flinches suddenly, he can still feel the sting of the first slap and his cheek even after all these years. “I-I-I-I d-didn’t m-mean to, but it d-didn’t matter.”. Trent doesn’t have to finish the rest of the story for James to know what happened. He is well aware of the torment Trent faced at the hand of his ‘parents’ and it makes James feel sick everytime he thinks about it. James instinctively pulls his friend closer and rubs Trent’s back to calm him down.

“I probably deserved it anyway.” Trent says with a hollow laugh.

James shakes his head and hugs Trent. “You didn’t deserve it, any of it. What they did to you was horrible, but they can’t hurt you anymore. Alright?”James states firmly. Trent nods and slumps against James.

“Why don’t you shower and I’ll order some food?” James offers when Trent pulls away. Trent nods and stands up, he still looks rough and James has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

While Trent showers, James orders food. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, which is probably why his head and stomach hurt, and Trent can’t take his meds on an empty stomach. Italian food seems like a safe bet, so James orders some pasta dishes to be delivered and flips through the TV channels until he finds something neutral to watch. He settles on Parks and Recreation, which seems like a safe bet.

The food arrives shortly after Trent emerges from the shower and the two men settle on the couch and eat in relative silence. James isn’t exactly hungry, but he eats anyway hoping it will help his headache go away. Trent picks at his food, absentmindedly watching the show and occasionally cracking a shy smile at the jokes. When Trent has eaten most of his dinner, James heads to the kitchen to grab Trent’s anxiety and insomnia medication along with some aspirin for himself. James hands Trent his pills along with a bottle of water and watches as his friend swallows. Trents eyes are still puffy and far-away but he seems to be doing better. James clears away the food and tries to ignore the overly-full sensation in his belly. He really hadn’t eaten that much, especially considering his normal appetite, but evidently his stomach disagrees.

“T-thank you.” Trent mumbles when James walks back into the living room. James smiles and squeezes his shoulder,”No problem man.”, he replies.

They watch a few more episodes; Trent relaxes more and more as the medication takes effect. James, on the other hand, grows ever more uncomfortable. Dinner is sitting like a rock in his stomach, refusing to digest. Occasionally he can feel the food churning sickly and his belly rumbles quietly, clearly displeased with his choice to eat. Apparently what James felt earlier was not hunger, but rather the beginning of a stomach bug. James places a hand on his midsection and rubs at it discreetly. He can feel a slight bloat to his abdomen along with the queasy ache. Now that his brain isn’t focused on taking care of a panicked Trent, James realizes just how terrible he feels. A wet burp rumbles up his throat and he muffles it in his fist.

Trent doesn’t seem to notice his friend's condition, or if he does he doesn’t mention it. His eyes begin to droop and he slumps further into the couch yawning. The tension has eased from his shoulders and his breathing is calmer. James takes note and grabs the remote to turn the television off.

“I think it’s bedtime, yeah?” James asks, turning to Trent.

The young lawyer nods sleepily and stands up, walking towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. He turns back towards James and looks at him with sad pleading eyes.

“C-can you st-stay?”

James smiles at the request. He knows that Trent is prone to nightmares following a panic attack and he hadn’t planned to leave his friend anyway. Hearing Trent openly request it is definitely progress though.

“Of course, I’ll be right out here if you need me buddy.”

Trent’s shoulders relax even further and he walks into the bathroom.

Once Trent has left the room, James lets out another wet burp. It doesn’t bring him any relief and he presses his hand against his aching belly hoping to coax up another burp. He does, but it brings with it a splash of his dinner, which he quickly swallows back down. His stomach grumbles in response and cramps.

James stands up carefully and goes to the hall closet where he has a stash of spare clothes. It’s not the first time he’s spent the night here and it won’t be the last. He changes into a fresh shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. The waist band digs into his puffy belly and James winces, rubbing tenderly and trying not groan when he bends over to pick up his other clothes. The action of bending over sends up another splash of acid and food into his throat. For a moment James thinks he’s going to puke, but nothing happens and he returns to the couch.

Trent has left a pillow and blanket on the couch for him. James settles onto the couch and curls in on himself. He hugs his bulky arms around his middle and squeezes his eyes shut. With any luck, he’ll be able to fall asleep.

For the better part of an hour, James tries to sleep, with no success. His stomach hurts and keeps making increasingly loud and distressed sounds. His head is throbbing, despite the aspirin, and perhaps worst of all; James is alone with his thoughts. Everytime he shuts his eyes, he can see Drew’s face or the face of someone else he lost. His mind is flooded with the images of everyone he couldn’t save and it only makes him more nauseated. This tends to happen anytime he gets a fever and James hates it.

Trent is sleeping soundly in the next room over and James really doesn’t want to disturb him, but he almost wishes Trent would wake up. At least then he would have something else to focus on.

Another cramp ripples through his middle and James bites back a groan. He can still taste dinner in his mouth along with the bitter saliva that keeps flooding in. James stands up, slightly unsteady, and quietly walks to the bathroom. He grabs his toothbrush that Trent keeps here and attempts to brush his teeth. The action makes him gag and James drops the toothbrush leaning over the sick to retch.

His stomach contracts as he gags but all that he manages is a pathetic dribble of bitter drool. He turns and kneels in front of the toilet, squeezing his eyes shut as the world seems to spin around him. Memories flood his brain and James grips the rim of the toilet until his knuckles are white.

His back arches and he burps, bringing up a gush of puke; quickly followed by another. James pants over the water; the smell and sight of his partially disgusted dinner makes him gag again. James wraps one of his arms around his middle and uses the other to brace himself over the toilet. His belly gurgles under his hand and contracts sending up another wave of vomit.

When he finishes, James flushes the toilet and washes his face and mouth, before returning to couch. He had hoped that Trent would stay asleep during his bout of sickness, but Trent is a light sleeper even when medicated.

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Trent is sitting on a chair by the couch when James enters the living room. There’s a bucket next to the couch and a bottle of water in Trent’s hand. James flops on the couch and burps into his hand. Trent doesn’t comment but he looks worried just the same. James doesn’t usually get sick and Trent isn’t quite sure how to respond. “I would offer you my bed but I know you won’t take it. Just know that it’s yours if you want.” Trent says as James takes a tentative sip of the water.

When the water doesn’t immediately come back up, James takes another tiny sip and sets the bottle down on the coffee table. He settles on the couch and looks up at Trent.

“Thanks man, sorry for waking you up.” James says yawning.

Trent stands up and pats James shoulder awkwardly. “It’s no problem” he replies as he heads back to bed.

James finally manages to fall asleep, his stomach settling somewhat after having purged itself. His dreams are far from peaceful, but James can’t remember a time when they were. When he wakes up he decides that, just this once, an Adersen man is going to take a damn sick day.

I will edit later enjoy some James and Trent whump xx

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #whump #tw: abuse #tw: panic attack #trent walker #james andersen #tw: vomit #sicktember 2023 #submission

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ghostussy · 2 years

Text

Terzo and Copia x (neurodivergent) overstimulated reader

Google translated Italian ahead

(Get your mind out of the gutter weirdos)

Reader has some form of neurodivergency. I have adhd so this will be leaning more towards that but feel free to use your imagination! Also a disclaimer, I know this isn’t usually how people respond to overstimulation in public, but honestly there are some days that I wish I could so yeah :)

/ / /

Mass had just started.

You sat in the back of the church, in the last few rows; there were always less people there, and you found it easier to focus on the sermon. Not today though; you couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you simply couldn’t pay attention. You weren’t sure if it was because you had woken up late, or if maybe it was because you had skipped breakfast, or maybe the lights were a little off. Maybe it was all three.

You suddenly became hyper-aware of all the things happening around you. At the front of the church, Primo was speaking too loudly; the lights were too bright, too many people in the pews were whispering, the building was too cold. You felt a twinge of fear tighten in your chest, threatening to climb into your throat; you tried your best to ignore it. After all, you couldn’t just leave. Well, you supposed you could, but then everyone would watch you go; you couldn’t stand the thought of being the center of attention. Not now.

You watched the clock as the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. You tried to busy yourself by looking around the room; anything to try to change your focus. When that didn’t work, you removed your glasses and plugged your ears, keeping your elbows down to keep from drawing too much attention to you. You looked up at Primo, watching as he continued to speak, though you couldn’t understand a word that he was saying. You noticed Primo glance in your direction a few times, but you didn’t think anything further of it. You didn’t have the energy to do so anyway.

To your surprise, you heard Primo stop the sermon; this caught you off guard since you weren’t even halfway through the service. You managed to hear him say, “I will give you fifteen minutes to ponder my words. During this time, please feel free to use the restroom or chat with each other. I will be back shortly.” He then gave a thoughtful nod and walked off the stage. Immediately the volume in the room increased unbearably, everyone speaking all at once.

Now was your chance. You quickly stood up, weaving through the crowd as you continued covering your ears. You couldn’t pay attention to those around you, clumsily bumping into people as you mumbled apologies in your haste. It’s too loud, you thought; you had to get out of here. You were so close to a meltdown, you could feel it. Tears formed in your eyes; you had to leave. Now.

Finally you made it into the hallway. It was quiet here, and there was no one around. You uncovered your ears and turned a corner, running into somebody at full speed.

“Ah, merda- I’m terribly sorry, dear. Are you alright?” Terzo stood in front of you, looking concerned. “I was just looking for you... Where are your glasses?”

That was the final straw. “Oh no- I-I left them, oh no-” tears were falling now, and you stumbled over your words. You knew you had to go back into the chapel, fight through the crowd and listen to everyone talking over each other. You couldn’t express this verbally, however; all Terzo heard were choked sobs as you blubbered out nonsense.

Now he was twice as concerned as before. Luckily, he recognized your behavior; after all, he had helped Copia through many meltdowns. “Oh, cara,” he spoke gently, then used his hands to cup your face. “Look at me. Take deep breaths- In, and out. In, and out. There we go. Keep breathing. It’s okay.”

You finally were able to begin collecting your thoughts; the deep breaths gave you a second to calm down and figure out what the issue what. However, now you found yourself unable to speak, and unable to tell Terzo what was wrong.

“Oh, bambina- can you tell me what happened to your glasses? Surely you cannot see.”

You flapped your hands a bit, then finally pointed to the doors of the chapel. He seemed to understand.

“Oh! You left them in the pew? That’s alright, I will go fetch them. I understand that it is too loud for your little ears, no? Just wait right here, I will be back.” He ruffled your hair, then disappeared back around the corner. You took this time to sit on the floor against the wall, bringing your knees to your chest. You covered your ears and closed your eyes, trying to drown out the remaining lights and noise. It was all too much, and it hurt immensely. You debated skipping the rest of mass.

It wasn’t long before Terzo returned with your glasses. He crouched down on the floor in front of you, tapping your arm gently. You looked up at him, and he noticed the pain in your eyes. He handed you your glasses, which you held in your hand instead of putting them back on your face. He held a hand out to you and helped you to your feet, then continued holding your free hand so as to lead you somewhere.

You followed him obediently, not saying a word. You couldn’t; you still couldn’t find the words. You fidgeted with his hand still in yours, squirming your fingers and squeezing his hand. He squeezed your hand back reassuringly.

Eventually, he led you to a dark room far away from the chapel. You recognized it as one of the Ministry’s many sensory rooms; Sister Imperator had insisted that they were needed, and for that you were thankful. Along one wall was a small set of storage cubbies holding soundproof headphones, fidget toys, plush animals, and blankets, as well as some other stuff. There was also a single lamp, casting the room in a dark, comfortable glow. Throughout the rest of the room were different seating choices, such as a sensory swing, beanbag chairs, and a giant couch.

Terzo brought you over to the couch, prompting you to take a seat. He took your glasses from your hand and set them on a nearby table. “Alright, tesoro. What can I get for you?”

You struggled to find the words at first, but after a moment, you found yourself able to speak again. “A blanket, please.”

“Would you like a pair of headphones?”

You shook your head no. They felt so big on your head; you preferred to cover your ears if you needed to.

He brought over a soft blanket. It was blue with a starry night sky as a design. “Would you like me to lay with you?” You nodded yes.

You stood, allowing him to lie down on the couch. Then you laid on top of him and curled up he draped the blanket over the two of you. “There we go,” he spoke softly. “All nice and cozy. Are we feeling better now?” You nodded once again, burying your face in his chest. “Good, very good.” He ran his hand along your back.

You found your voice once more. You didn’t have much energy or space to move your hands to stim, but you could stim vocally. “Can I...make noise?” you asked him.

“Certainly.”

You immediately started stimming; you tapped your hand lightly on his chest as you made a series of chirps and clicks with your mouth. After a moment the stims slowed, and you found yourself calming down. You decided to speak.

“Papa? Why did Primo decide to stop the sermon?”

“Ah, well- you see-” he was suddenly interrupted by the door being thrown open. You flinched at the sudden noise, looking up to see a very distraught looking Copia.

“Ah! So sorry- s- sorry to intrude,” he managed. “I will go.”

“Fratello, attendere prego. Vuoi unirti a noi? (*brother, please wait. Do you want to join us?)”

“Ah- I do not- do not wish to intrude.” He wrung his hands, turning to leave.

“You would not intrude. Please, come here. I know it is loud in the halls.” He stood, leaving you on the couch. He walked over to the cubby, grabbing an armful of blankets and tossing them on the floor. He did the same with all the pillows in the room, creating a nest of sorts. “There is not enough space for the three of us on the couch. However, the two of you may join me on the floor if you’d like.” He laid down, patting the empty spaces next to him. You were quick to join him, curling up in the crook of his arm in a tangle of blankets. Copia stood off to the side awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Brother, you do not intrude. Please, lie down. I know your head aches.”

Copia let out a defeated sigh, slowly easing onto the floor. He left a couple of feet of space in between him and his brother, only to be pulled closer by Terzo. He ran his free hand through the tired man’s hair, causing him to sigh. Copia grabbed a blanket, curling up closer to his brother. It wasn’t long before his fingers lost their grip on the blanket, and light snores were leaving his mouth. Obviously the service had taken it’s toll on him as well.

“Terzo?” you asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“You never said why Primo stopped mass.”

“Ah, yes. He took notice of yourself and my brother’s conditions. He sent me to come find you as well.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I never meant to interrupt the service!”

“It’s quite alright. It was clear that Copia was struggling greatly as well. Neither of you can help it.” He ran his other hand through your hair. “It is simply something that happens sometimes.”

You relaxed into his touch. The sharp edges of your meltdown had worn off, now replaced with fatigue. He took notice of the glazed look in your eyes.

“You may sleep, giovane. It is alright. I will be here.”

You raised a fist to rub at your eyes, now stifling a yawn. A sleepy whine left your lips. “I’m not tired, though.”

He chuckled. “Alright, then. Suit yourself.” He continued playing with your hair, humming softly in your ear as he did so. You felt your heartbeat slow and your breaths even out, your eyes half-lidded. You fought it for a few moments, until the sleepy feeling became too great for you to handle. Finally you let yourself drift off, allowing the world to fade gently as you lay contentedly in Terzo’s secure hold.

#papa terzo #Terzo x reader #cardinal copia #copia comfort #autistic copia #drabbles

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ap0wersstories · 6 months

Text

Carmel the Church Slut

*Important Note*

The following story is 100% fiction with zero real world relevance, non-consensual sex/sexual assault or underage sex of any kind is wrong and should never be accepted. If you are considering or have committed such an offence I suggest you get serious psychiatric help.

=============================

On the surface Carmel looked like the perfect 19 year old church going girl, she was gorgeous and radiated this energy of a “good girl” as she was beginning her career as a beauty artist. But behind the scenes she was hooking up with multiple guys, and a lot of them were black. She loved the way their bigger bodies dominated her slight Filipino frame.

It wasn’t known to the congregation until one of the church board leaders saw her out with one of the black guys and saw her plant a kiss on him while her groped her sweet ass. He knew something had to be done. One day a he was called by the church and asked if she could stop by to help them with some things, she of course said yes. When she turned up there were three old white men from the board in the room in the back of the church, “I was told you needed some help here, what can I do?”

“We’re not the ones that need help Carmel, you are.”

Carmel looked back at the men confused, “I don’t understand.”

“David here was witness to your sinful slutty behaviour the other day, and with a black man no less!”

Carmel was shocked by what they were saying and also how blatantly racist they were being. “How dare you! Yet he is who without sin cast the first stone! You all aren’t perfect either!”

The men weren’t interested in hearing this from her, one of them stepped up to her and slapped her hard on the face causing her to double back in pain, two of the men advanced on her while another locked the door. They’d made sure the church was theirs for this time but wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be going anywhere. Carmel was down on her knees still recovering from the strike to the face, one of the men grabbed her hair. “You’re a slut Carmel and it’s time you learned where that gets you, it’s in these situations. Your going to take all our good church cock and you’re probably going to love it because that’s who you are!!”

At that comment they all pulled their pants down to reveal their hard cocks, they varied in size; one was modest, was short but actually quite fat, one was actually bigger than any she’d taken which surprised her. “On your knees like you’re praying to the lord, be ready to take our blessing in your mouth!” Carmel was sobbing now, she couldn’t believe that these men that claimed to be godly men were going to rape her. “P-please, oh god no! Please let me go! I’ll change my ways, please just stop!”

“It’s too late for that, you’re a whore now. Open your whore mouth and don’t you dare bite down!”

Somehow Carmel knew that threat was real, she opened her mouth and accepted the first short but fat cock in her mouth. He needed to squeeze and manipulate it to get it in her but he did and started thrusting himself in and out of her. Carmel sobbed as she took the old man’s penis in her mouth. He suddenly pulled out and the modest cock replaced it immediately, he followed suit using her and then discarding her for the other man. When the final man with the large cock stepped up she renewed her protests, “please it’s too big, I can’t possibly-“ but she wasn’t allowed to finish her sentence, he shoved it roughly into her mouth and thrusted so hard he went past her gag reflex and into her throat. He held it there for special effect just make it worse for her. Finally he pulled out with her coughing and gagging.

They picked her up and put her on a table on her back, the modest sized man was the first to step. He pulled open her dress and ripped off her panties to shreds, rubbing his cock against her pussy he said, “praise Jesus!” as he thrusted into her. He fucked Carmel vigorously as she sobbed at the humiliation of the rape, unfortunately for her she also felt her pussy getting wet. She might not have been enjoying it but her body was starting to betray her, it liked getting treated like a slut. When the other two men stood side by side at her head with one shoving his cock in her mouth and the other using her hand to jerk him she let out a moan of pleasure. The man using her mouth laughed, “see Carmel, you’re a whore. You like men treating you like this!” She couldn’t denying it it was turning her on, despite that she didn’t like she was getting treated like this.

The man fucking her pussy began grunting like an animal, his balls were ready to explode in her. “FUCK YEAH CARMEL, HERE COMES YOUR FIRST LOAD!!!” Just as he was about to shoot his cum in her he pulled out and went around to her face, the other men were ready for this, they pointed her pretty face at his cock as the streams of cum shot onto her pretty Asian face. Carmel sobbed as the cum shot into her eyes, onto her nose, and coated her pretty lips. He then poked his cock into her mouth and instinctively she sucked on him. The man with the fat cock was already positioned and fucking her pussy, he wanted to see her tits bounce. With his cock inside of her he tore her dress revealing her bra, he then pulled her tits over her bra so they would bounce like the white she was. He groped them hard as he fucked her moist pussy, bending over and sucking on them. He was so turned on by his beauty he knew he wasn’t going to last long. With his body thrusting with extra vigour he let out a cry and pulled out at the last minute shooting his load onto her tits, he manoeuvred himself so that he could use them to fit fuck his last squirts of cum.

The last, and largest man stepped up. “Time for the big show baby!” He shoved his large meat into her, “ahhhhhhh, oh my got it’s too big, be gentle please!!!”

“Haha be gentle?! I don’t think so, you’re gonna take my cock hard and fast. It’s what Jesus would want!!!”

He grabbed her hips and thrusted harder into her hitting her cervix as he got deep and hard into her. Carmel couldn’t help but be turned on by being treated so badly, it was like pain and pleasure mixing at once. She moaned like the whore she was told she was as the man’s large coco invaded her pussy.

The man groped her cum stained tits, got her sucking on his fingers, and even wrapped his hand around her throat choking her a little every bit of abused turned her on more. She couldn’t help it, “oh my god, oh my god, oh my gooooooooooood!!!!” She yelled out as she felt her orgasm coming, this sent the man into a frenzy fucking her even harder and grunting as his balls felt ready to explode! “FUCK YES CARMEL!!!! WE’RE CUMMING TOGETHER!!!!” He yelled as he pulled out and shot his load onto her face, she moaned as the cum dropped on her forehead, he cheeks, and into her mouth. Once her was satisfied he scooped all the excess cum on her face from both men and dropped it into her mouth, she sucked his finger clean of it all.

“Mmmmm good girl, swallow our cum!”

Carmel laid on the table exhausted and confused, she was both humiliated and at the same time incredibly turned on. She’d never cum that hard with any of the men she’d been with. Her dress was ruined so they took it off her and gave her one from the church donation bin, she wiped the cum off her face and body but could still smell the stench of sex. It actually made her want more.

“Now Carmel, we can renew this relationship regularly if you would like. We would be glad to continue what we have started today, or you can change and be a good church girl and keep your legs shut. The choice is yours.”

As Carmel left, her pussy still wet, she couldn’t help but think being a good girl was overrated anyway.

#sexstories #sex fantasy #rapetoy #rapekink #cnc k!nk #rape

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psyduckappears · 2 years

Note

Bad Things Bingo Prompts! "Don't let them see you cry" for Ronance?

read it on AO3

i hope you like it <3 (as per usual, it got longer than I planned)

As though losing your first job in a mall fire, finding out about evil alternate dimensions, being tortured by Russian spies, and stressing about looming college applications wasn’t bad enough, Robin’s first week of senior year is apparently set out to make her life even worse. It takes a few days to spread, or maybe it simply takes a few days to reach her, but by Wednesday, she knows what the rest of the school is already talking about.

She’s been outed.

She hears whispers in the hallways the days before that, sure. Some jock calling her dyke in the hallways surely isn’t anything new – she’s in band, after all. That alone qualifies her for a whole range of uncreative, overused slurs. On Wednesday, though, she comes into the locker room before gym, and some random girl asks her to go change in the bathroom, instead.

She doesn’t even know the girl’s name.

It takes her a second in which she looks around, sure she must be talking to someone else, though that wouldn’t make much more sense, either. But some of the other girls chime in, start to agree, some awkwardly mumbling about it’d probably be better, some sneering in clear distaste.

Robin does go to the bathroom. In fact, she runs, locks herself inside a stall, and breaks down crying. Is she crying? She thinks she must be, but her breath is quick, and it might just be the panic making her vision blur, so there’s no way of telling if there’s even a single tear in her eyes. Maybe she’s dry-sobbing, maybe she’s just dreaming and this is all not real, and that’s why she can’t tell what her own body is doing, right then.

They know. They know, something chants over and over in her. The whole school knows, and that means that by the end of the week, the whole town will, too. Her teachers. The customers at Family Video. Keith. Her parents. Maybe they’ll find out on Sunday at church. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

They know, they know, they know. The scene, scared and hysterical in a public bathroom, is scarily reminiscent of a few weeks ago, the first time she ever said the words to anyone except her mirror image. The last time she’s said the words to anyone.

The thought brushes past for a millisecond in her panic, and then the panic grows stronger immediately as she’s flooded with guilt. Steve wouldn’t tell anyone. She knows that. He doesn’t even talk to anyone who goes to school with her, anymore. Most importantly, she would trust him with his life – if the Russians came back, tied him up again and beat them with no hope for help, he probably still wouldn’t tell them. He’s stupidly loyal, nothing like the asshole who sat in front of her in history and smeared his girlfriend’s name on a brick wall in the middle of town.

God, she wishes Steve were here.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there for, probably just a few minutes. This state of mind is a timeless haze, and she doesn’t snap out of it until there’s a soft knock at the door of her stall. Did she somehow summon Steve, with that odd bond they’ve shared ever since this summer? Could he even have gotten here without being stopped a dozen times over? Or is it one of those girls, coming for round two?

“Robin?”

She freezes, head snapping up to stare at the door as though that meant she could see through it and gauge the newcomer’s expression. She recognizes the voice immediately, and it spikes something in her chest. Another thing she and Steve have talked about at length: Nancy Wheeler. Somehow, Robin forgot she even had gym with her. She will never tell Steve that detail.

“Robin, are you alright?” Nancy asks when Robin still doesn’t answer.

She clears her throat, shakes her head a little, and hopes to god that her voice will stay steady when she replies. “Yes. Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Can I … uhm, would you mind letting me in?”

Robin forces out a laugh, trying to shake her off. She really doesn’t want stupid, perfect Nancy Wheeler to see her like this. “I’m kind of in the middle of something, here, Nancy.”

“I can see that you’re sitting on the floor.” She sighs. “Come on. I really just want to check on you.”

“I – why?”

“Because. You’re important to Steve, and – well, we may not be together anymore, but he’s still important to me, and he’d want someone to … check on you.”

Robin almost snorts. If Nancy really cares about Steve so much, she has an odd way of showing it. Where was she to check on him after he was kidnapped and tortured and still saved her from Billy? Nowhere near Steve, for sure. Robin knows because she was there, and she also knows that she hasn’t reached out once since, and sure, Steve could have done it himself, but nobody can blame him for assuming it might be unwelcome when –

“And also,” Nancy suddenly continues, “because everyone back there was horrible to you, and you deserve someone who has your back.”

Steve does, she wants to say, still feeling defensive from her own inner tangent, but she swallows it down. As much as she’d like him around right now, Steve isn’t really a part of this.

Instead of saying anything, Robin leans forward in her spot on the ground and stretches to unlock the door without standing up. She must look awful, eyes puffy and hair a mess, clothes rumpled from sitting down there for however long she has ben sitting there. Still, when the door swings open, she meets Nancy’s eyes straight on.

“Do you know how they found out?” she asks, her voice still feeling raspy. She doesn’t know what she did expect, but she surely didn’t expect her in her oddly pretty gym clothes to sit on the disgusting bathroom floor.

“You know how it goes.” Nancy shrugs. “Someone overheard you saying something, or saw you doing something, or … I don’t know. Like most people in this town, they couldn’t keep their mouth shut and everyone started eating it up like they’d seen it with their own eyes.”

Robin nods, still trying to keep it together. She can’t stop thinking about it, though, how everyone just knows her most closely guarded secret. She pictures the rest of senior year, now a social pariah rather than the loser she already was, basically untouchable. Public enemy number one. She pictures her parents, any day now, finding out. She wonders if they’ll throw her out or send her to one of those … doctors. The fear burns up again, and so do her eyes, and then she’s covering her mouth to keep in the sob that breaks through her throat like a promise of pain.

“Hey,” Nancy says, careful. She pushes herself forward a little bit until their knees are touching; it only makes Robin cry harder, but Nancy doesn’t back off. She just tries to meet her eyes with those big, sad blue eyes of hers. “I know this sucks. I know there’s no way to stop this now, and that people will give you trouble for no good reason, and that – it’s unfair. You should’ve been the one to choose who knows.”

Robin looks at her disbelievingly through her tears. Nancy, instead of looking offended at her lack of faith, just smiles sympathetically.

“You’ve braved things much worse than this.” It doesn’t feel like that, she wants to say, but she knows that’s irrational. She suddenly remembers that Nancy has braved even more things worse than this and feels embarrassed about freaking out so much. “It’ll be hard, and people will be dicks, but you won’t be stuck in Hawkins forever. And you have people in your corner. You’ll get through this, and I know we don’t really know each other at all, but I know you’re going to come up on top of this. So – don’t let them see you cry. Don’t let them get to you. Okay?”

It's way too easy, and it doesn’t solve anything. It’s not even particularly comforting, but Robin finds herself giving a wobbly smile, anyway, and her heart skips when Nancy reaches out hesitantly to brush her tears away. It doesn’t feel like fear, this time, that little cardiac malfunction.

She nods and manages a wet, uneven, “Yeah. Okay.”

#ronance #robin x nancy #stranger things #prompt fills

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antimonyandthyme · 2 years

Note

'until some tragic thing happens'...

Athy pls no don't do that/j

But imagine, seb and max being dynamic duo (their drift compatibility is holding record at shatterdom), max coming out of his shell, actually making effort to be with people (team playing, learning about their habits etc) and seb finally letting his accident go (visiting his friend's grave, holding max's hand (max is trying not to think how small seb's hand is))

oh oh 'until some tragic thing happens' like... like kaiju attack. not your typical kaiju attack bc they never attacked together before, always alone. but not this time. max and seb dealt with first monster but much smaller but sneakier one got behind and strikes them right in the middle, max got a hit at his head and lost consciousness for a moment, seb immediately understand what he had to do. it is tricky, to hold jaeger on your own without your partner, seb almost lost consciousness himself but he can't. he can't lose max, he won't survive it. so he dispatched max from jaeger and send him away, away from battle but in his moment of weakness he didn't close the drift. he wants to feel max right before his last breath.

imagine max waking up to news that his partner, his one and only partner, is dead trying to save him. no he screams, no he cries, no he muttered. shatterdom staff let him grieve (after all seb was beloved by many)

days come and go, max still grieves. he isn't laying down no, he is training like never before, he doesn't talk with his peers, he almost live in church, asking, begging for something he know he would never take. but something isn't right. something buzzing him at back of his mind. one day it came to him.

oh. the drift never closed. max never felt seb's death.

hope is dangerous thing but max could deal with danger. he said, asked, demanded, begged and head of shatterdom let the order to find a man. make it lowkey, search for a man (or his body) in hospitals, morgues etc.

max in his dreams started to search for that buzzing thing in his head, trying to call seb ('father, forgive me for thinking you would leave me'), it is so soft and making that noise like bees do. he is holding on that, knowing that seb would be delighted how max's end of bond looks like. max wonders how his end would look like. he can't wait until he asks the man himself.

searches went and came back, there is one man, who fits all signs and lays on hospital bed. max never run to car so fast in his life.

okay idk what am i doing but your line about some tragic event really make me think

Athy, i love all your /check notes/ 5 pacific rim aus (especially can't wait for vettonso one<3)

same seb/max pacific rim au anon

Anon are you... trying to make me cry... because I will... huehuehue... They should be making a movie out of your story I'd watch it I'd be the first in line... huehuehue... He never... cut the drift... he wanted... max to be the last thing he felt... Anon I'm sobbing on the ground...

First of all, Max giving Seb the courage to visit the grave of his old friend? The one who Seb thinks is gone because of him, and will never forgive himself for? Max holding on to Seb's hand tight as Seb dissolves into tears? Max thinking to himself, Hand tiny... Must protect forever...

Kaiju attack, Kaiju attack! They're dispatched from the Shatterdome. Anon--since this is your story, what should their Jaeger be called?

It's a fight with teeth and fangs and canons and metal-plated armour and Seb and Max are so concentrated on the Category IV in front of them that they aren't prepared for the Category III creeping up behind. Kaijus aren't known to work together. Jagged teeth rip through the centre of their Jaeger, and it's chaos. CODE RED CODE RED. EJECT EJECT.

Eject where? They're dead outside of the Jaeger, as is their city. That won't do. They stay in and try to fight, but the suit is falling apart. Machinery crumbles around them, and one large part falls and knocks Max clean out. Seb's screaming, "Max, Max! I need you, Max!" But Max is unconscious.

And well, Seb's already made his decision the day he decided to step into a Jaeger. Max will outlive him. He'll make sure of it. No one's heard of piloting a Jaeger solo for long, but this is the dead man's grip. The kind of grip that gives you enough strength to lift a car. Seb detaches Max from the suit, and sends him floating gently away. He can't bring himself to sever their neural link, it's the last thing he wants to know on this earth. And in a last-ditch attempt, he blows up the rest of the suit to defeat the 2 Kaiju.

When Max wakes, it's quiet. Why is it so quiet? It's not been quiet since Seb.

Where is he? he screams. Where is my partner? Where is Seb?

They tell him to take the time off, that the loss of a partner while in a drift is so traumatic some pilots never recover from it. Max thinks he'll fall into that statistic. He curls up in one of the benches in the church in the Shatterdome and cries himself to sleep.

Wait, wait. He jerks awake. What's that quiet buzzing sound at the back of his head? What's that pull toward someone he can no longer see? What's this?

Forgive me Father, for thinking you would ever leave me.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #max/seb #pacific rim au #priest/fighter pilot au #anon i would like to get on one knee and ask for a hand in marriage #would you like to have this flower i picked for you?#what about this picnic basket?#what about this lil heart i drew?#hue hue hue (the sound of me crying)#you are a genius beyond my comprehension

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thatonewatching · 1 year

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Church Boy-Life of the party

As we entered the house, the smell of drugs, booze, and sweat filled my nose. "Ew..." I muttered, scrunching my eyes at the stench. "Hey, guys!" Neil yelled, walking up to us with a red solo cup. "Hey, Neil. Hey, Todd." Larry said, pulling both of them into a hug.

"You brought Travis?" Neil asked, his once friendly and welcoming demeanor changing into concern and slight shock. "No, I did." I chimed in, grabbing Travis' shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "Oh, alright. No slurs and shit." Neil said, shrugging his shoulders and walking off with Todd trailing behind.

"You guys want something to drink?" Larry asked. "I don't drink." I said, waving my hands to signify I was fine. "Uhm...sure! Why not!?" Travis said, smiling wildly. "Gotcha!" Larry said, sprinting off into the crowd.

Travis and I talked for a minute before Larry returned with two solo cups. "Here ya go!" Larry exclaimed, handing one of the cups to Travis. "Thanks." Travis muttered, smelling the drink that was just barely filling half the cup.

While Larry downed his with ease, Travis took large sips but often recoiled after. Once Travis finished his drink, he tried to take a step toward me but stumbled and fell into my arms. "Calm down, Trav." I joked, holding him so he could steady himself. "I wanna-" he started but was immediately cut off by his own giggles and hiccups.

"You need to sit down." I said, looking around for Larry, Neil, or Todd. Once I spotted Neil, I called him over and asked where the nearest bedroom was.

"Neil! Neil! Over here!"

"Yea, Sal?"

"Where's the nearest bedroom? Travis is drunk and can't exactly function."

"Ha, that's hilarious. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Me neither."

"Anyways, the nearest one is just up there. No sex!" he joked, pointing to a room at the top of the stairs. I felt my face get warmer as I thought about his words. "Promise..." I said. Guiding Travis slowly up the steps one by one, hoping he wouldn't fall. We got to the room and he fell into the bed.

I closed the door behind me and walked to where he was. "Sally, I want another drink!" he whined through hiccups. "Are you sure? You're fucking drunk already." I asked. "Yup!" he said, a hiccup following after. "Alright, I'll be right back." I said.

I walked to the door and left. Running to the kitchen and grabbing a solo cup. I poured some vodka into the cup, nearly filling it. I swiftly walked back to the room with Travis and tried to open the door. It was locked. I knew that Travis hadn't done it himself because he couldn't even walk by himself.

"Trav! Open the door!" I yelled, knocking profusely. "Get-" he yelled. "Help!" a boy's voice yelled. "Sal!" Travis yelled. I sat the cup down, fearing that what I thought was going on in the room was really going on. I stepped back and rammed into the door, shifting it.

I saw fucking red as I heard Travis sobbing on the other side and another boy's voice yelling at him to shut up. I rammed into the door again, this time it busted open, and I saw the sad scene in front of me.

Travis was pinned down on the bed underneath a much larger boy with darker blue hair than I. He was wearing a red-striped shirt and black sweats. I said nothing, instead, I ran at him with full force. He looked like a deer in headlights as I barreled toward him. He fell to the floor with my straddling his waist.

I let my anger get the better of me as I blew punch after punch to his fucking face. He was bleeding and my knuckles were sore. The pain from ramming into the door was settling in but I couldn't stop. I watched as his nose bled and he cried out for me to stop and that it was not what it seems. "Shut up you fucking pervert!" I screamed, taking my fists and slamming them into his chest. He clawed at my arms and neck.

Eventually, he latched his grubby little fucking hands onto my mask and ripped it off over my head. My mask was thrown across the room, close to Travis who had his back against the wall, shaking and crying.

I only stopped once somebody pulled me off of him. "Sal, what the fuck?!" Larry screamed, throwing me onto the bed effortlessly. "He fucking assaulted Travis!" I screamed, tears pouring out from my eyes. I felt eyes all over me. It hadn't struck me before, but I no longer had my mask on, and it had been strewn somewhere in the room.

"He did...?" Ash asked, stepping forward. "Obviously he fucking did! Look at him," I yelled, pointing to Travis. "he's shaking and fucking sobbing! Somebody get him out of here before I lose my shit on all of you!" I screamed, sounding oddly similar to a Banshee. "He...he did this to me too...I fought him off, but some people can't..." Ash admitted.

Gasps and whispers emanated from the crowd formed outside the door. "Travis...come here..." Ash said, arms open and a genuine smile spread across her face. Travis crawled off the bed and stumbled over to Ashley. She pulled him into a hug, and he returned the favor.

Larry was staring down at the blue-haired adolescent, rage, and contempt surging through his body. He bent down and grabbed the collar of the smaller teen's shirt, lifting him without struggle. "I ought to break your jaw right now...you know that? Do you want that? Or do you want me to just fucking kill you?" Larry asked, voice quiet and laced with poison.

The teen shook his head, fear filling his eyes as Larry stared at him. "Then I'll give you a fucking minute to be out of this damn house..." he muttered, dropping the boy to the floor. He groaned in pain and Larry smirked sadistically.

Then, he started counting down. "60...59...58..." he said, watching as the boy writhed around, scrambling to get to his feet and out the bedroom door. He practically flew down the steps and out of the house, jumping into his car and trying to drive away.

As he attempted to get the car to start, Maple walked into the room with the biggest grin on her face. "Yea, he's not going anywhere." she said, trying to stifle a laugh. "What'd you do?" Ash asked, already knowing it was some crazy ass shit. She snorted out a laugh and pulled a knife out of her pocket. "Slashed his tires." she answered, putting the knife back in her pocket.

"Crazy ass." Larry said, jokingly rolling his eyes. Chug walked into the room, dizzily smiling. "Someone's in love..." Larry joked, bending down to my level. "No duh, we should set them up." I suggested, nudging his side. "Great idea, Sal." Larry complimented, smirking as we agreed on being cupid. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, Travis needs me."

I walked over to the shaking boy, huddled to himself by the wall. "Hey, Travis." I said, taking a seat next to him. "Hey..." he muttered, not even meeting my gaze. "You wanna go home?" I ask, slinging my arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. He lay his head on my shoulder and sighed deeply. "Sal..." he whispered.

"I wish you wouldn't have saved me..."

(originally posted March 19th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Life of the Party - Wattpad

#angst #fanfic angsty #angsty fanfic #fanfiction #sally face fanfiction #sally face fanfic #sally face #salvis #philip sally face #sally face philip #larry johnson #ashley campbell #todd and neil #todd morrison #neil and todd #im so sorry

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