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lovememadly92 · 3 months

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The Secret Admirer

Hello everyone!!! I am the secret gifter for @stfrancisprayer and I had so much fun writing this, especially since the 1980s is my favorite era, I decided to a modern take on Band of Brothers. Of course, no offense to the real-life veterans, this is only actor portrayal. I also created a playlist to go along with it. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend and enjoy!!!!!

Playlist:

May 18th, 1989- UCLA Campus, Los Angeles, CA

I listen to the Robert Palmer tape on my Walkman as I walk to my last class of the year. Thank goodness that we are done with our undergraduate studies. Now to enjoy summer with my friends and hopefully go on vacation. Well, I am just exaggerating a bit, I must find a job to pay for my schooling this coming Fall. I decided to take upon doing my master’s to be a history professor, besides I like talking anyway.

She's a craze you'd endorse

She's a powerful force

You're obliged to conform

When there's no other course

She used to look good to me

But now I find her

Simply irresistible

When I walk into my class, I turn off my Walkman and look to where I sit, I see a letter set on the desk and I smile to myself. I have been getting these letters for the whole year and I have been trying to figure out who has been sending me these letters. Rosie sits behind me and when she sees me, she perks up and smiles.

“I see you got another letter, asshole,” she chuckled, and I took my seat in front of her. “Who would admire your goofy ass?”

I chuckled to myself. “Honey, they do not call me George Luz for nothing. I got my charms, my looks. I am as handsome as Patrick Swayze himself, except for the dancing part of course.”

She rolled her eyes and was writing some notes on her binder. “Oh George, keep fucking dreaming you will be Patrick Swayze. The best I can give you is Tom Cruise and I rarely like the guy.”

Ouch, that kind of hurt.

“Anyways,” she leaned to look over my shoulder. “Are you going to open the letter or what? I want to know what it says.”

“Nope, you are going to keep writing your notes and leave me alone now. Since I am not good enough to be Patrick Swayze,” I stuck my tongue out and she flipped me off before I turned around and opened the envelope.

God if I could only figure out who fucking wrote it. Better yet typed it on a computer or typewriter. I miss how things were romantic back in the day, particularly how my grandfather would write love letters to my grandmother when he was shipped off to Europe during World War II. But I guess I am just an old soul.

I opened the letter and smiled.

My Dearest George:

I hope first that you had a wonderful year, with your family and your friends. There is not a day where I don’t think about you, wanting to feel your lips on my hot skin.. Ever since I saw you during a wrestling match back in high school, I knew that I wanted you to be mine forever. But I couldn’t find the courage to talk to you because you were always surrounded by these beautiful girls, vying for your attention. But this is the year that I have decided that I am not going to be a coward anymore. I am going to reveal myself to you at Rosie’s party this weekend around midnight. I really hope that you do not get scared or run away, but if it comes down to that, then I will accept my defeat and walk away. Sweet George, love of my life. I will be seeing you soon.

Love Always,

Your Secret Admirer.

I smile to myself and close the letter before the professor walks in. I feel a sensation and excitement, finally a year of torment of trying to figure out who it is that has been writing me these letters. However, I turn around to look at Rosie and she smiles at me while I smile at her back.

But why does it feel that I am cheating on her?

God George get out of your head, she will never pay attention to you, she is too beautiful for you.

“Okay class, let’s get ready for our exam today.”

May 20th, 1989-Beverly Hills, CA

Mother will never understand why you had to leave

But the answers you seek will never be found at home

The love that you need will never be found at home

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away

I stand against the wall, drinking my beer as I watch Rosie sway her body along to the music with her other friend Karina. I smiled to myself because Rosie was always like that, dancing like no one was watching. Before her big transformation, she was always a quiet gal, always her nose in the books. She still has her nose in the books and volunteers at hospitals, the only thing is that she had a big transformation.

She was always beautiful though and sweet…

“Hey George, are you going to find your secret admirer?” Frank asked and I turned to look at him. Shit, I had forgotten about that, I was too entranced with the beauty dancing in front of me with her bustier crop top and her jeans, hugging her waist. Her beautiful, big brown curly hair. God those beautiful, brown eyes…

“George!”

I shook my head and took a sip of my beer. “No, yeah, I am going to go find her, it’s not midnight yet. I just, I don’t know, I feel that I am cheating on Rosie for some odd reason. You know I always had a thing for her. Still do.” Then I looked up and I saw that she had stopped dancing with Karina, and she was talking to the pretty, rich boy, Lewis.

God, I dislike him in more ways than one. He would always make fun of her and trip her when she would carry her lunch in the cafeteria. I was a popular boy myself, but my parents taught me better than being an asshole.

“Maybe it’s for the best you know,” Frank pointed out and then I sighed. “They are meant for each other, they are rich, she will never pay attention to us guys. Lieb has luck on his side, he managed to get Karina as his girlfriend.”

I watched Lieb and Karina smile and giggle at one another before heading upstairs to a bedroom and disappearing. Knowing that damn smile Lieb carries, they are not coming back down for the rest of the night. At least one of us is lucky.

Lewis then leaned into whisper in her ear and then she pulled away and threw the drink in his face. “You fucking asshole, I am not one of your damn whores for you to speak to me like that and in my house!!!!” She was about to walk away, and he pulled her close to him, shaking her like she was a rag doll.

I threw my beer on the floor and rushed to them, grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face, knocking him down on the floor. “Don’t you ever touch her again, you hear me, pretty boy?” I was about to grab him but then I felt soft hands pull me aside and then looked at me with pleading eyes.

“Calm down George it’s okay,” she whispered, and everyone was looking at us. “Come, let’s go upstairs and clean your knuckles yeah?”

I was breathing hard and then nodded. I followed her upstairs and into the bathroom, where she sat me on the toilet. Then she took out hydrogen peroxide and some gauze pads to clean up my knuckles. Smiling, I feel her dabbing the cuts on my knuckles and watch her do her work. She is going to follow in her parents’ footsteps in being a doctor.

“You did not have to defend me, George,” she whispered softly as the music blared a bit in the background. “I could have kicked his ass too.”

“I owe you one, for not defending you when I had the chance back in high school,” I said softly and then looked at me. “I would always see from afar and never do anything about it, even though my parents taught me better.”

She sighed and then bandaged up my knuckles. “It’s okay George, you don’t have to apologize, you are not the one that did the tripping or the horrible pranks. Besides, no one takes him seriously.” I study her face and count every freckle she had dusted on her cheeks. She looks so beautiful.

“So how is the search for your secret admirer?” she asked and crossed her arms.

Oh. That.

“Um, nothing,” he said softly. “I am going to meet her tonight, let’s see how this goes. I am going to meet her in the backyard, by the pool if that is, okay?”

“Sure, no problem, just don’t do anything weird, please? I want that image out of my head when I found you screwing that airhead,” she chuckled and shook her head.

God I was so embarrassed, I was in mid action when Rosie walked in on me in my room. I felt sad when she caught me, as if I cheated on her. When I found out she wasn’t pissed about, it made me sad a bit.

“I promise, pinky promise,” I smiled softly and hooked my fingers up with hers. We then headed down back to the party, and I asked her to dance with me.

I am a man who will fight for your honor

I'll be the hero you're dreaming of

We'll live forever

Knowing together

That we did it all for the glory of love

We started swaying around the dance floor and gently she laid her head on my chest and chuckled. “You know what, I was always dreaming that I would get my dance at prom, but all I did was sit on the bleachers. Thank you for at least giving me the Cinderella moment that I always wanted.”

I smiled at her. “I may not be Patrick Swayze, but I can dance at least a little.”

“You dance better than Swayze,” she said quickly, and I smiled to myself, and we kept swaying across the dance floor until the song was over. She looked at me with her beautiful eyes, and I could see adoration, and dare I say love.

Then again that could be my love riddled brain. “Well, its midnight. I am going to go and meet her and see what happens. Wish me luck.”

She nodded and let me go. “I wish you the best of luck George. I hope that you find what you are looking for. I will be seeing you later.” I nodded and headed outside to the pool area and took out a cigarette, waiting for her to come by. All I can hear is the crickets chirping and then I hear Lieb and Karina going at it upstairs.

“God yes baby!!!!”

“You like that huh?”

“God yes!”

I chuckled and shook my head. Jesus, those two can go at it all fucking night and yet not get tired because of it. Then again, I can tell that they love each other very much, just by the way they talk, the way they interact. God, I wish I did have that with Rosie. But whoever is my secret admirer, I will give her a chance at my love.

Blowing the smoke in the air, I check my watch and it has been ten minutes and she hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe it’s a prank from fucking Frank, or maybe Muck did it, they have been teasing me about my secret admirer ever since I ever got the first letter. God, if they pranked about this shit, I am going to kick their ass so hard, they will identify them by their damn teeth.

As I was about to give up, I heard soft footsteps walking behind me and tapping on my shoulder.

I turn around to smile at the person and when I see who is in front of me, my smile drops and I feel my body tremble, and my ears turn hot. From anger.

“You?!”

Rosie’s POV

Un señuelo

Hay algo oculto en cada sensación

Ella parece sospechar

Parece descubrir

En mi debilidad

Los vestigios de una hoguera

When I walk outside and tap on his shoulder, finally revealing myself after a year of writing to him, all I see is anger, disappointment. Karina even warned me that he was going to be pissed, not the fact that I am his secret admirer, but more the fact that I fucking lied to him about my feelings for a long time.

“You are my secret admirer?!”

Tears in my eyes, I nodded, and I tried to touch him, but he backed away, starting to pace back and forth. “You got to be fucking kidding me Rosie Mendoza, after a year and yet you did not have the balls to tell me that it was you?”

“I know and I am sorry,” I cried and tried to grab his hand, but he backed away from me. “I just couldn’t tell you because I was afraid, afraid of rejection. I was always rejected in high school, made fun of. You would see how Lewis would trip me, play fucking pranks on me. I honestly thought you were the same, that is, until I officially met you in our first year at college. I never seen anyone so nice to me, so gentle like you.”

He looked away from me and I blinked at my tears. “George, I am sorry I fucking lied to you okay but that does not take the way the fact that I am in love with you.”

Slowly, he turned around, and he also had tears in his eyes. “I have been in love with you since we were little kids, and when I saw you back in high school, seeing the grown man you have become, that was it for me. I thought also transforming from an ugly duckling to a swan would get your attention.”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped his lips and then wiped his tears. “That fucking never mattered to me Rosie!!! That never did, I never cared if you were ugly or pretty. What one falls in love with is this!” He patted his chest. “Like how I am right now!!!! Madly in love with you!!!!!”

I stood quietly and then more tears started streaming down my cheeks. “You think I gave a fuck if you were hot or not? All I cared about was what was in the heart, nothing more. I thought you were sweet, caring, never once did I care if you looked like a geek or a nerd. That is one of the things I love about you! You are a smart ass, telling people how it is. But I guess I was fucking wrong, you are nothing but a fake, like to play with people’s feelings. Here I was, thinking that I was cheating on you.”

I looked down and started sobbing. “You know what, I am done, I am done with this, I am done with you. Never fucking contact, me again. You hear me? You and I are fucking done, for good.”

Nodding, he walks right past me and leaves me standing there, alone by the pool. I lost him for good, and I deserve it. I wanted this to be on good terms, since I am leaving for Columbia University for medical school.

“What happened?”

I turned around and looked at Karina who looked disheveled. “You were right, and now he does not want to do anything with me anymore. That is fine, I guess. I will leave with no attachment, so I guess that is a plus.”

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight

It must have been something you said

I just died in your arms tonight

July 21st, 1989

It has been over a month since we had graduated and yet, he hasn’t spoken at least two words to me, and when I would walk into a room, he would leave immediately. I know what I did was wrong, and I accept it.

You're the object of my desire

Baby, ignite my fire

Object of my desire

Hey, you really turn me on

I look around the room, filled with posters of all the actors I liked, like Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Tommy Howell, Ralph Macchio and Billy Zabka. I smiled to myself, and the room that saw me grow up, that saw me cry. I am going to miss my family, my friends, and everyone around me.

“Amor.” I turned around and looked at my mother. “Karina and Joe are waiting downstairs for you; they want to take you out on your last night here before you leave. We were going to take you out to dinner to your favorite Italian restaurant, but I am guessing you want to spend time with your friends before you leave.”

I nodded. “Of course, just give me a few minutes to get ready and I will head right down.”

She closed the door behind her, and I sighed. God I am going to miss everyone and everything here. I have been to New York, and everything is so different from here. Maybe that is what I need, something different.

I put on my white and pink LA Gear sneakers and headed downstairs. “There she is!!! Future doctor in the house. Now what does the lady want to do now that she is leaving the best city in the world?”

I tapped my chin, feigning confusion and I smiled. “Please take me to In N Out, there is no other good burger and I want to go to the beach.” Staying quiet for a moment, I looked at Karina and she shook her head. “He is not budging, Lieb tried talking to him, Frank did too, even Muck and Faye tried but he is so stubborn.”

A sudden pain in my chest hits me but he is stubborn, he is not going to budge.

“That is fine,” I said softly and wiped my tears. “Let’s go enjoy our last night together.”

And that is what we did. We picked up burgers, went to the beach, and blasted music in the boombox. Frank was there, along with Muck, Faye, Penkala, even Toye decided to make an appearance. But no sign of George.

Dusk turned into night, and we had the fire pit going on while the music kept playing on the boom box. Slowly, everyone started to leave, and it was just Karina, Joe, and myself, sipping beers watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I think it’s time to head out you guys,” I said softly and yawned. “I have an early flight tomorrow and I must get the penthouse ready before orientation begins. If you guys do not mind.”

Karina had tears in her eyes and then gave me the biggest of hugs. “I am going to miss you so much bitch. But I know we will meet again. You go out there and be the best of doctors.” Tears formed in my eyes and looked at her.

“You will be something too, you will see, won’t she Joe?”

“Hell yeah, I will make sure of it.”

We hugged again and cried until we couldn’t anymore.

Hours later

As Lieb drove me home, I looked at the moon and smiled softly. One of my favorite activities that I would love doing with George was sitting on his roof and looking at the moon, talking about its shape and color. We would spend hours and hours, until one of his neighbors would be a narc and call the cops on us.

God I am going to miss him so much.

“Okay here we are,” Joe stopped the car and then Karina got out of the car and gave me a hug. “I will see you off later.”

I nodded and then I backed away as she got into the car. She waved and I waved too before Joe drove off into the night. Walking in my driveway, I reach the front door and open it with my spare key my parents gave me.

When I walk in, I find them sitting on the couch and watching Unsolved Mysteries on NBC. I tried watching it with them a couple of times, but their scenarios and the music always haunted me in my sleep.

“Hey amor, had fun?” I closed the door behind me and smiled. “Yeah, sure did.”

They noticed I was quiet and didn’t want to push it any further. “Want to watch Unsolved Mysteries with us? One more try for your old man before you are stuck in the books all year?”

I sighed and looked upstairs then looked at my father’s pouting face. “Okay, fine, I will watch it with you guys. But if I get nightmares, it’s your fault.”

That night, I stayed up until about four in the morning and did not even bother to sleep since I was leaving early in the morning. I lay in my bed and wondered sadly if I would ever see George again. I really should have been honest about my feelings for him, especially knowing now he felt about me. But me, being a scared little girl, prevented me from doing that. I guess I was the one who judged people for who they were.

The morning came as fast as the night went and I had to get ready. By the time I reached my porch, I had the whole gang, except for George, waiting to say goodbye. I hugged each one of them, telling them that they could come and visit whenever they felt like it.

Once I arrived at the airport, I waited with my dad and my mom until they called my flight. I sighed softly and stood up along with them, then gave them the biggest of hugs. “I will miss you guys very much. Please when you can, come visit me, I get lonely.”

They both chuckled and they kissed me on each side of my face. “Of course, we are going to spend Thanksgiving over there and Christmas, there is no way you can run away from us. Plus, we can watch Unsolved Mysteries together.”

I snort and then let them go. “Of course we will it’s a date.” I sighed again but this time, I had tears forming in my eyes. “I will be okay mom, dad. Don’t worry, I will be fine. I will call you as soon as I get over there. Before they have me in the books and not enough time to breath at all.”

My mother wept silently, and my father had tears forming in his eyes, which was rare, if he cried, he never really showed it. The only time I have heard him cry was when he lost a young man due to AIDS complications; the young man died holding my dad’s hand since he had no one else. It’s one of the many reasons I want to be a doctor, the compassion and the willingness to fight for others.

They let me go and I smiled softly before heading to the terminal. I looked back at them one more time and waved at them before handing over my ticket. I walk towards the entrance of the private plane, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. But I managed to put them at bay when the stewardess led me to my seat.

“Here you are ma’am.”

“Thank you so much.”

When I am about to sit down, I notice my Walkman sitting on my chair with a note on it. Me the curious being, pick up and open the letter.

Can’t forget this Rosie, oh and look to your right.

I look to my right, and I see George, smiling, walking straight towards me. I nearly dropped my Walkman to the floor. He stood right in front of me, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days and dare I say, his eyes red.

And I know it wasn’t from the weed he would smoke.

My body, my whole being started shaking when I saw him right in front of me. “You were about to leave without saying goodbye, I thought we were better than that Rosie.”

“I know but you said you did not want to see me again, that we were done being friends,” I cried softly, and tears fell down my cheeks. “I know I should have said something about my feelings, but I was scared. I am sorry that I judged you.”

He smiled softly and then wiped my tears with his thumb. “Don’t be sorry, ever. I should have said something too.” George would look down then at me. “I guess you are really leaving huh?”

I nodded. “Orientation starts next month, and I need to prepare for the long hours.” I smile sadly and bite my lip for a moment. “Thank you for coming to say goodbye.”

A playful scowl formed on his face.

“I am not saying goodbye, I am coming with you.”

The Walkman hit the floor as soon as he said that.

“What do you mean you are coming with me?” I asked in disbelief but there was a hint of happiness in my voice.

“I got accepted into NYU to continue my studies to be a history professor. It was either stay home and continue at UCLA or NYU, I chose NYU to be with you.”

But how did he know I got accepted into Columbia? Then a smile crept onto my face, and I realized it was Karina the one who told him. I had known for months that I got accepted into Columbia but couldn’t bring myself to tell George. I saw them one time talking while I was studying in the library.

“But what about your family?” I asked softly.

He gently wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. He would look at my lips and then into my eyes. “I guess they understand that when you love something, you got to fight for it and that is what I am doing.”

Before I could respond, he leaned his face closer to mine and captured my lips fully with his. It didn’t take long before my lips started to move gently along with his. The way his lips felt on mine, the way his hands held my waist gently, I felt a warm sensation pooling at the pit of my stomach. My heart warms with joy.

He let go of me and leaned his head against mine, smiling softly.

“I love you Rosie, always have and I always will.”

I smiled softly and brushed some of his hair off his head. “And I love you too George.”

We chuckled softly and then kissed again, but this time more passionate, with want. However, it did not last that long because we had to sit down and prepare ourselves for takeoff. We both laughed as we took our seats and put on our seatbelts.

“What about your living arrangements? Who paid for your ticket to come her…wait, were my mom and dad in on it?”

He nodded and I shook my head, smiling.

“As for living arrangements, I have been looking for some apartments and…”

I placed my finger on his lips and smiled. “No, you are staying with me and that is final.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said softly and wrapped an around my shoulder and then gently picked up my Walkman. “I made you a tape, and your parents gave me your Walkman, to surprise you. Here you are, almost leaving without me.”

I rolled my eyes playfully as the plane took off.

Whatever waited for us in New York, I was ready for it, whether it was good or bad.

All I knew, it was going to be the adventure of a lifetime.

What happened to them after this:

Both got married in 1991 and had three children, all two girls, one boy!!! George became a professor, and our Rosie became a world class surgeon just like mom and dad. They now have three grandchildren in the present time.

Songs used in story:

Simply Irresistible- Robert Palmer'

Smalltown Boy- Bronski Beat

Glory of Love- Peter Cetera

Corazon Delator- Soda Stereo

I Just Died In Your Arms- Cutting Crew

Object of My Desire- StarPoint

*Only two songs used in the story are in the playlist. The playlist is more of what represents their relationship. Hope you all enjoyed this story, thank you so much for reading!!!!! :)

#band of brothers #hbowar #hbo war #Spotify #hbowarsummer24

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thekimspoblog · 1 year

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Preview

The second she was in his arms, the bond between father and daughter was magnetic. He inhaled the smell of her head deeply, practically waltzing around the small room with her. Jimmy kept chuckling to himself under his breath, until fat tears started to stream down his cheeks.

“Oh come on. That’s not very manly,” Kim teased.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, “If someone had asked me five years ago, I would have said my life was over. Even just two years ago. I never would have dreamed… Thank you, Kim. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had”. Speaking directly to the scrunched face of their precious, perfect angel he declared, “I’ll never be a coward again. When it comes to you, I’ll never take the easy way out. Promise”

It was probably good that at least one parent welcomed Iris with blubbering, overwhelmed love. “Can I have her back yet?” Kim sighed, reluctant to break up such a magical moment. But she’d barely gotten the chance to get a good look at their child yet. Knowing herself, Kim had read up on postpartum depression beforehand. She knew there wasn’t anything wrong with her, just because she didn’t gush with affection the second her baby was born. But postpartum wasn’t really what this feeling was either. She wasn’t depressed; if anything, she felt the same high as when she had gotten away with a crime. She could revel in the way her brain was currently stewing in oxytocin and other endorphins, but that didn’t prevent her from seeing things clearly.

Her love for this child was like fire and ice, at the same time too cold and much too intense. It wasn’t some ultimate act of grace giving birth to her. The loving thing to do would have been to never drag her kicking and screaming onto this mortal coil in the first place. To keep her sequestered safely in the realm of the hypothetical, where she could never commit any sins or suffer any hardships. But it was more important to set her free, she’d decided. There had been this thing inside Kim’s soul for at least half her life; it felt like a sharp rock. And as she had aged, it had just gotten bigger. She guessed she’d thought that once she passed it along to someone else, it would leave her. But it was still there; she could only suspect Iris had inherited it. She hoped she did. She’d need it… to cut through the miles of bullshit and bureaucracy which lay ahead.

Motherhood for her meant embracing paradox: She’d have to protect her, but still let her grasp for the proverbial brass ring. She’d have to plan for the future, and take pride in her, but not burden her with expectations. She’d have to instill in her daughter a strong moral compass, while teaching her when, why and how to break the rules. She’d have to be honest with harsh truths, but not scare her. She’d have to be selfless, but not a martyr. She and Jimmy would have to take turns, when it came to who was going to be the hardass and who got to be “the fun one”. Give her everything, but don't spoil her. It was enough to make a person's head spin. But at this point in her life, she was confident she was up to the challenge. She felt at home in paradox.

@richeeduvie @mcwexlerscigarette @2entangledworms @chainsawsangel @garfballed

#better call saul #kim wexler #mcwexler #jimmy mcgill #jimmy x kim #post bcs #parenthood timeline #iris wexler-mcgill

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deterioratingxprisons · 2 years

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Open to: anyone~Please read my rules in my pinned! \\ male, female, nb muses welcome

Overview: your muse does not deal kindly with Delilah, having her chained away somewhere~ assume connection or hop into my inbox to plot! 🖤 can turn smutty depending on your muses tastes. Delilah gets off on her pain and bondage so~ ooop // maybe she killed someone close to your muse, or simply pissed them off enough for them to want to hold her in contempt and abuse her. Whatever, you have free will to hurt the demon however you see fit ;) Maybe bring her a little snackie… she’s starving.

It was dark, and the scent of mildew and stale rain infiltrated her body with each labored breath of air. The demon had put up quite the fight, not making it easy to get her confined in pure, blessed silver. It now burned into her wrists, a demonic red glow surrounding the skin it touched, inflamed and agitated. Her feet were shackled at the ankles. For the first few days of being restrained she had fought and fought, screaming and wailing for her captor to come and set her free. To come and face her. To stop being such a fucking pussy and reveal who had jumped her in the alley of the old bar. How rude, not giving her a fair fight! She hadn’t had time to react as the cold blade of silver dug into her spine, debilitating her of movement. She assumed the person responsible for this little stunt knew that holy water was her weakness, for the blade seemingly had been drenched with it and prayed over. Not many things held a demon in a catatonic state; holy water to the back being a good way to get one down for a few seconds. It was an assault against her back, the coward not having enough balls to fight her face to face. Probably good too, because she would not have let the person or demon or angel or whatever go until she was watching the life drain effortlessly from their eyes, the demon kissing them so sinfully as they left the earth. It was her favorite thing to watch. It was then she felt closest to her victims, holding their faces, barring those seducing and treacherous eyes their way.

Everything inside of her trembled. She had gone from thrashing and kicking and screeching to laying fretfully against the cold stone walls covered in moss, her eyes having trouble to even stay awake. She’d blacked out within the past twenty-four hours, coming in and out of consciousness only to vomit up the black sludge that she now lay in, her once bright crimson dress stained in the tar-like consistency. It had only been a few days and she already felt so weak. So hungry. She would kill for anything. Just a bite of flesh. Just a morsel of someone’s soul. She wasn’t picky. It could be anyone from hell at this point, willing to take a soul damned and charred than nothing at all. This was true torture. She was fuming. Her mind could hardly focus, she was so hungry, on who possible she could have pissed off this much to get thrown away for days. They hadn’t even come to check on her! What were their plans? Did they think so little of her that she wouldn’t escape? In all fairness, she hadn’t been able to escape, not yet anyways. Give her time! She still had… eternity… of this. Maybe her wrists would become so feeble she could pull her chains off, break her wrists and hand bones to removed herself from the prison.

She weakly pulled at the shackles around her right wrist, her fingers burning against the silver. “Come on out already, you fucking cunt!!! What the fuck are you waiting for?! I can’t fight back anymore! I’m too weak, you coward! Bastard fucking moron!” She hissed, sitting upright, head spinning and she turned to the side to empty another pile of oozing darkness form her stomach. Fuck… it tasted like ash. She needed a drink… or a bottle. Or ten. She was so angry it consumed her, eyes weakly glowing red, whining and writhing as she tried to crawl away from the wall, being stopped as she didnt make it but four or five feet. Curses!! Shaking with unbridled rage, the demon curled herself into a ball, uncaring that the chains burned her legs and arms as she held herself. Her fire that held her together was dwindling, muttering prayers to any god that might hear her. As if. She had no one. She was all alone. Trapped. Afraid in this desolate place.

#indie open #indie rp #indie smut #1x1 rp #open rp #indie horror #indie supernatural rp

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sortasirius · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

273 notes · View notes

lsholland · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

43 notes · View notes

imagine-that · 3 years

Text

White horse

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: maybe angst? Kind of mentions of kidnapping ig?

AN: this one may or may not have more than one part coming 🤫🤭😉 also it’s too the song White Horse by Taylor Swift and I’ve linked it so you can listen while you read or after or before if you’d like!

——————————————————————————

Say you’re sorry, that face of an Angel

Comes out just when you need it to

“Loki get back here! We aren’t done talking about this!” You cry, chasing after the green cloaked god.

“There is simply nothing to talk about. You think leaving is a good idea, I think it is not. Therefore, you are forbidden to leave.” He says bitterly, storming away, back towards the palace.

“Oh for the love of Odin- you’re being ridiculous! You cannot forbid me from doing anything Loki! I am my own person, or am I not now my love?” You ask angrily, picking up your pace to even try and match his.

“Stop! Stop calling me that, stop trying to make it better. I am no longer your love y/n, I am no longer your anything it would seem. But no need to worry, I will be sure to think the same of you and nothing more.” He says coldly, the smirk you so despised playing on his lips.

You groan, smacking his arm. “Would you just listen to me for five minutes?! I-I don’t want to lose you Loki. But I have to get away from here, I don’t want to be contained to only this one place all my life, it’s not enough for me!” You cry, taking his cold, bony hand in your own and holding it tight. “I want to be with you, please.” You beg, your eyes filling with tears.

“Y/n, if Asgard isn’t enough for you, surely I am not either.” He says coldly.

“That’s not true! Do you know how long it took me to finally make this decision for myself? To decide leaving is what’s best?” You ask and he says nothing. “I cried for days at the thought of leaving you. I paced all the time. You’re not the only one having trouble with this choice. Loki- you’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you forever.” You promise him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

As I paced back and forth all this time

Cause I honestly believed in you

“Then do not leave. Stay with me, become my princess. We can spend our days by the lake and reading books from the royal library.” Loki argues, taking his other hand and wrapping it around yours.

Suddenly he’s getting down on a knee, pulling out a ring box. You shake your head rapidly, not believing what you’re watching.

“Y/n, you are my princess, my soulmate and my other half. This kingdom would be unbearable without you, it would be the most boring place in the galaxy. I see colors brighter, feel things more clearly and feel like a better man than I am when you are around me. Please, do me the greatest of honors and marry me.” He gives his little speech, smiling up at you with the look of lust and love in his eyes.

“No.” You breathe, staring down at him.

“W-what?” Loki asks, a frown etched on his face.

“I said no! You cannot... guilt trip me into staying here, nor can you just propose to me to prove a point or to distract me for my choices. You... you can’t just tie me down like this. I’m not going to give up on my hopes, nor on my dreams to suit you.” You scoff, stepping back from him.

“You have to! You have to because I say so and as I am crowned prince of Asgard, you must obey!” He cries angrily, getting up off the ground quickly and moving closer to you.

You stare at him with pure disgust and disbelief in your eyes. “You may be the crowned prince but you cannot force me to obey you by any means!” You shout back in his face, breathing heavy with fury. “If you insist I must then you’ll have to throw me in the dungeons because I’d rather rot down there for the rest of my life than marry the man I’m seeing before me right now!” You snark again, tears burning your eyes.

His face contorts into a sickly grin, one that sends horrible goosebumps up your spine.

Holdin’ on, the days drag on

Stupid girl, I should’ve know, I should’ve known

“You truly mean that, do you? You would rather die without a smidge of dignity, stripped down to nothing but a caged animal in the deepest part of Asgard’s darkest, coldest dungeons than marry your beloved?” He asks, inching closer to you.

“You are not my beloved. It would seem you have killed whatever’s left of him.” You growl coldly, turning your back to him.

He laughs a cold and hollow laugh. “You do not get to walk away from me!” He bellows and you remember exactly where his temper came from.

“Yes I do and I will.” You say calmly, your stubborn nature kicking in.

“Trust you to act like a coward in a time of need for bravery.” He sneers.

You swerve back around, snapping your head in his direction.

“Continuing this useless argument with you has nothing to do with bravery Loki. It’s stupidity. And you are being irrational. I can’t talk to you like this. So yes, I’m walking away. But believe me when I say that that is the brave choice in this situation.” You explain, staring straight into his steely grey eyes.

“You said you loved me! You said we were meant to be! You said we were soulmates the universe and the gods decided were meant for each other and only each other. Did you mean one word of it?” He asks, a sad and desperate smile on his lips.

“I- of course I did Loki. I meant every word of what I’ve said to you.” You promise, tears streaming down your own features. His slender and delicate fingers gently reach up, brushing them away with his thumb, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Then why are you insisting on leaving me?” He asks, his voice more broken than you’d ever thought possible.

“I don’t belong here Loki. I’m destined for other things and meant to be or not, I cannot truly commit myself to being your princess, to being your forever if it means not exploring that destiny.” You say softly, resting your forehead on his chest longingly.

It’s taking all of your strength to fight the urge to wrap your arms tightly around him and agree to what he’s asking just to see his smile return but you manage.

You know this relationship could never be healthy if you couldn’t commit to it with all of your heart and soul. And if it couldn’t be healthy, you didn’t want to put either of you through that. You couldn’t handle that pain.

That I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale

I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell

“Loki. You have to let me go my own way.” You sigh, glancing up at him.

He says nothing, turning himself away from you.

“I cannot do that. I literally cannot bring myself to do that. Either you stay or I am merely nothing to you. That is how it will be.” He states after taking a shaky breath.

“Loki you can’t possibly expect me to make that decision!” You cry out, mouth agape in shock.

“It is the decision that must be made. If I mean anything to you at all, you would stay and rule by my side.” He says.

“It isn’t that simple Loki! I can’t just choose you because I love you.” You groan, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“And why not? Because it is easier to run away from me, run from what it is we have than to be with me? I am fully aware of that fact y/n, it has burdened me all my life!” He bursts out, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“No! You do not get to play the left as a baby card right now Loki because you know it is not like that at all! You know I harbour nothing but love for you! It is not a simple choice I’m making right now!” You argue, shaking your head.

“What did you expect me to say exactly y/n? I am not going to stand here and blatantly lie to your face and say I agree with your choice in departure nor that I am ok with it!” He shouts louder. “I refuse to let you leave! I refuse it, ok? You cannot leave Asgard, I will forbid Heimdall from allowing you to go if that is what I must do but you will not leave me like this!” He snaps, his face one of rage and possessiveness as he makes his way to the doorway and out towards the bridge to the gate to the realms.

“You can’t do that to me!” You cry, racing after him to stop him. You scramble to get in front of him, laying your palms against his chest to keep him from moving any further.

“Remove yourself from my path darling.” He warns, staring you down. Still, you remain in your spot.

“Not a chance dearest.” You growl back mockingly.

This ain’t Hollywood, this is a small town

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down

He picks you up carefully by the arms, moving you behind him effortlessly.

“If you do this I will never forgive you! I will not only leave you, I will never speak to you again. Not even if you hold one of your swords to my throat to force the words out yourself.” You shout after him, your voice void of any emotions other than pure, white, hot rage.

He pauses in the middle of the bifrost, looking at you, testing the truth behind your words as he analyzes your stance.

He meets your eyes, your big y/e/c showcasing every bit of vulnerability within you in that moment for him to see. He had a knack for that it seemed, seeing everything about you no matter how much you tried to hide it.

He knew you like the back of his hand. Normally, you felt safe and protected with that.

Now you just felt hatred for the eyes baring into your soul.

“You will forgive me someday. I am sure of it.” He says quietly, smiling softly at you.

He leaves you there on the bridge, falling to your knees with a small sob.

Deep down you knew he was just scared. Scared you would somehow be hurt or taken or used as a weapon of some sort and he wouldn’t be there to come to your rescue.

But that didn’t matter. You didn’t want your knight in shining armour. You only wanted to be free.

Now it’s too late for you and your white horse

To come around

————————————————————

A few nights later...

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had paced back and forth in your room, biting down your nails out of stress and anger and the need to concentrate. Your hair was a mess, you refused to change into any of the clothes you were given, staying stubbornly in your outfit from the few nights ago instead.

Since your meltdown on the Bifrost, Loki had brought you back to the palace, stroked your hair as he tried to talk you down, calm you. It had worked, much to your dismay. You’d woken up in a foreign room and upon an attempt to leave, you found that you were being kept there.

Loki was treating you like a prisoner. He was being true to the Midgardian fairytale Rapunzel he’d once read to you in the gardens, you’d thought to yourself the first day.

“Loki, let me out of here!” You screamed desperately that day, pounding on the door until your fists ached. Crying and shrieking in hopes someone would help you.

He again, came and talked you down, holding you as you sobbed. You were a wreck, you couldn’t comprehend how your sweet, kind eyed Loki had become this monster who kept you like a toy or trophy rather than his equal, his true love.

Somehow though, you believed he was in there, crying to get out and be the one to hold you in his arms and let you go. You imagined staring into his eyes, kissing him, promising you’d be there for him no matter how far you were. It was driving you crazy, trying to flip between the Loki you’d known all this time and the one you were with now.

Maybe I was naive,

Got lost in your eyes

You’d managed to calm yourself most of the time, you’d managed to talk him out of the crazy idea of keeping you under lock and key. Even this new Loki seemed to realize it was too much, too inhuman and cruel. He apologized for having done it in the first place and you merely nodded, staying true to your promise to him. You weren’t speaking to him anytime soon, if at all.

You instead stayed in his room, staying by his side when he wasn’t taking care of his duties.

You knew he was wrong. You knew he was being awful and possessive and downright toxic but still, you couldn’t imagine not being with him. You couldn’t imagine it but you knew it was a terrible idea to willingly stay. It wasn’t what was right for you.

You stayed in bed most of the day, trying not to feel the ache for his touch in your chest the way you were now. And when you weren’t, you were standing on the balcony, watching out at Asgard. You may not love living there but you still believed it was beautiful regardless.

That was how Loki found you that evening, in a robe on the balcony, staring down at the city.

“It is beautiful with the sunset is it not?” He says calmly from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

You nod a bit, not bothering to turn around to face him.

You hear him moving closer but you pay no attention, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You are truly not going to talk to me?” He asks with a sigh.

You shake your head, resting your chin in your palm as you watched the sky become as golden as the palace itself as the sunset.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair from what you can see in the corner of your eyes.

You were taking your time, balancing your options on the invisible scale in your mind. You wanted to be held by him and trust him again but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him have it all. Not after what he’d done. You silently decided that letting him struggle, torturing him with your silence was your best play.

And never really had a chance

My mistake, I didn’t know to be in love

You had to fight to have the upper hand

Your long term plan for yourself was yet to be determined. Loki’s kindness and love for you was blinding you, making it impossible to concentrate on your thoughts, much less make them coherent.

You brush past him, ignoring his begging gaze as you go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, getting in the shower. You let the water run down your hair, getting it wet while your mind starts to clear up a bit and you finally know exactly what you have to do for your sake.

You finish, getting redressed before going back into the room, ignoring the princes longing eyes as you climb into the bed, facing away from him.

“Alright, that is enough already y/n.” He sighs, pulling the blankets off of you. You jump up in shock, staring at him blankly. “I know you are mad at me however I only did this for us, my love!” He insists.

You scoff, abandoning your former decision completely. “You did absolutely NOTHING for us here Loki. You did this for you. You did this because you’re scared.” You argue back, your days of pent up anger at him thankful for a release.

“I did not! I did it to protect you, to keep us from falling apart!” He shouts.

“Please! Loki I am begging you to at least admit to yourself that you did none of this for my protection!” You cry, staring him right in the eye.

His breathing is heavy and jagged, he’s panicking, this much you knew. “I-I would never do anything regarding you for my own selfish gain.” He says calmly.

“But you did Loki. You did everything to do with this for YOUR gain.” You sob, tears covering your cheeks.

“I-I love you Loki. I truly, painfully do. But I cannot be with anyone who would regard me as some sort of trophy. I will not do it.” You continue, your lip trembling as you speak.

“I never- I never meant for it to get this far... I merely wanted to keep the one thing I’ve truly loved in my life safe. I wanted us to spend forever together, side by side.” He says, his voice so low and quiet you have to strain to hear it properly.

“I-I know.” You stammer, gulping in a breath between tearful gasps. And you did know. He was your other half, there was no way you didn’t think of the future with him in the same way he did. You just didn’t always treat it the same.

I had so many dreams

About you and me

“Please- please forgive me darling. I cannot apologize enough for the chaos and- and the harm and trauma I put you through these past few days. I was no better than my father himself. I was truly a monster.” He says, his eyes once again filled with unshed tears.

You nod lightly. “Okay.” You say quietly, meeting his eyes.

“W-what?” He asks, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“You heard me. Okay. I forgive you.” You say simply.

“J-just like that?” He says, still not convinced.

You force a laugh, continuing with your small charade. “Yes just like that. You’re my true love, I could never stay mad at you for too long Loki.” You say with a small smile.

He smiles back, pulling you into a hug. “Oh my darling you have no idea how grateful I am for your forgiveness.” He murmurs into your ear. You hesitantly hug back, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Always.” You promise quietly. “As much as I love sharing a room with you though Loki, I think I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight if that’s alright.” You ask, blinking at him innocently.

He nods repeatedly in agreement. “Of course my love. Whatever you wish.” He promises, standing and offering you a hand. You take it in your own, getting to your feet yourself.

The two of you walk around talking for a few hours, making you glad for the fresh air and mind numbingly silent atmosphere. He holds your hand tight, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I think I need some sleep my love. I’m feeling kind of tired.” You say with a small yawn. Without hesitation he walks you to your room, making sure you’re good for the night and that everything is to your likings.

“Loki, everything is fine. Go. I’ll be fine.” You groan exhaustedly. He sighs in defeat, standing in the doorway.

“Ok but I will be here in the morning in case you need me. Goodnight my love.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You nod with a tiny smile, knowing that by morning you wouldn’t be there for him to help.

Once he’s finally gone, you change into something more comfortable and a little more inconspicuous, grabbing a few of your things and tossing them into a bag. You scramble to write a quick note to your family so they aren’t left entirely in the dark with all that’s happening and you ensure that the door is locked to buy yourself more time.

You climb out the window, gulping as you feel yourself dangling from so high up but making your climb down to the ground floor of the castle.

You felt guilt for leaving Loki so quickly and hastily but you knew it was for the best. You weren’t meant for any kind of fairytale life and staying with him while he was so controlling and had become so dark wasn’t a valid option for you. You wanted to live life, not struggle through it.

And so, you made a small jump to the ground and ran down the shimmering bifrost, running to the gates and off into the night alone.

Happy endings

Now I know...

104 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 7 (end)

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: You stuck around this long. Thank you. I appreciate you. And I'm really, really sorry.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 6 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 7

“Andy, are you okay? We took care of that crackpot apocalypse cult, but Cas isn’t making any sense. Why is he telling me to check in with you? How did you know about all this?”

“You got all of them? None of them got away? Does Cas still have the second address, Dean?”

“What does...No, Cas, I don’t...Jesus, alright! Yes, Andy, Cas has the address. Why? What the hell is going on? Are you gonna give me some answers, or-”

“Just come to the address, Dean. I’ll be here.” ...

The embers of the fire smoke sullenly in the steady drizzle. The flames died down a while ago, leaving only chunks of wood and ash, but still Dean stands sentinel over the remnants of the pyre.

His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his face a stoic mask. There are streaks of blood down the front of his shirt from the fight earlier in the night, smears of dirt and soot across his skin that are beginning to run down in rivulets of dirty rain water. His eyes are red and a little wetter than the weather warrants. His clothing is soaked and chilled, but he stopped feeling the temperature a while ago.

He hasn’t moved in hours.

“Cas, I know he had that one night with her, but, I mean...can you at least explain how she knew about that ritual? Why would she do this to herself? And why did she need a hunter’s funeral? Was she a hunter? I didn’t recognize her.”

Cas stares miserably out of the Impala’s windshield, watching his lost friend without a clue of how to comfort him. Sam sits in the backseat, bewildered and completely unaware of how close he came to losing everything. Cas finds himself irrationally annoyed with Sam’s ignorance, despite being one of the main sources.

“I can’t tell you, Sam. She didn’t want me to, and I agree with her. But you should be very grateful, all the same. She saved you and your brother. She saved all of us.”

“Cas, I don’t-”

“That’s right,” the angel agrees suddenly, his brusque tone shutting down Sam’s questions. “You don’t. I’m going to check on Dean.”

…

“I just want to register for the record that you are a damned coward. Don’t give me any of that benevolent wisdom bullshit. You are a sick, sadistic, neglectful bastard, and I’m finding it hard to think of a single good thing you’ve ever done.”

The irate woman glares down at Chuck in his worn vinyl booth until he begins to squirm under her gaze. His eyes flick away from hers, then back suddenly, as if he’s afraid to let her out of his sight for too long.

“You still got a little time with him. Better to have loved and lost than to-”

She leans down in front of him, resting her hands on the table and bending until her nose is inches from his. He can smell the lavender and clover that she told Dean about, can smell the blood and the scotch, but most of all he can smell the smoke.

She continues to stare him down silently, her wrath evident in every line and angle of her body. His irritation rises, and his lips thin with displeasure until they almost disappear into his beard. He clicks his tongue at her, cocking his head to the side.

“I could have just let things run the course that they naturally did the first time, including your ‘highly successful’ deal with Crowley. Aren’t you humans always moaning about getting second chances? I gave you the chance to fix everything that went wrong the first time!”

“Considering I had to die both times for the world and the Winchesters to still be safe, I’d say there were still some holes in the overall plot line.”

He glares at her, resentful and sullen, unwilling to budge. “You made your choices, both times around. Free will, and all that? I could have just let you all die, let you live with the consequences of your choices just like every other human in history. I didn’t have to give you that rewind, you know.”

“Then why did you?!?”

Her furious outburst echoes around the empty tavern. She takes a deep breath, forgetting for a moment that she no longer needs to breathe at all, but the action serves its purpose, and her anger is temporarily eased. He takes advantage of the quiet to push his point, trying one more time to get her to see his side.

“I wanted to give you, them, another chance. I couldn't see many ways out of this...tangle. So I put everything out there that I could think of to help you, and I hoped you’d make the right choice. And you...did?”

But this woman, this impossible, irritable, flawed human, is clearly unimpressed that this is the first time in existence that he’s bothered to explain his reasoning to anyone.

“For the record, regardless of where it sends me, you are a complete dick.”

He holds her gaze soberly, his expression going neutral with only a tinge of regret, before finally raising his hand in a sort of farewell gesture. Then she’s gone, and he is alone once more.

“For the record,” he mutters as he lowers his hands to the typewriter in front of him, “you’re not wrong.”

….

“We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger

I know it's late; I know you're weary. I know your plans don't include me. Still here we are: both of us lonely, Longing for shelter from all that we see.

Why should we worry? No one will care girl. Look at the stars, so far away.

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay?

Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely: All of my hopes, fading away. I've longed for love, like everyone else does. I know I'll keep searching, even after today.

So there it is girl; I've said it all now, And here we are babe. What do you say?

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay?

I know it's late; I know you're weary. I know your plans don't include me. Still here we are, both of us lonely. Both of us lonely.

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, let's find a way. Turn out the light, come take my hand now

We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay? Why don't you stay? .....

End

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #original female character #major character death #blood #violence #light smutting #language #cult activity #inferred suicide #demons #apocalypse #angst #i'm sorry

39 notes · View notes

g-on-ef · 3 years

Note

Hey if you’re still doing that 50 cliches and prompts, perhaps we can get a crumb of #23 for Blitzo x Striker? 👉👈

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A\N: Nonnie you ask for crumbs and I'll give you the whole bread ^^ also if you guys want send me some Striker x Blitz prompts of your own or one from this list ^^

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#23: “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

Striker was fighting to remain conscious, the past thirty minutes have not been kind to him...especially with the bitch Stella trying to get back at him for shooting her.

Earlier today Striker got a call from Stella to come to her as she had a new plan that she wanted Striker to carry out, a plan that could finally break Stolas.

When he came to her palace Stella told him her plan.

“Why kill the cheater when you can break his spirit,”

“Don’t you already do that every time he’s reminded that he’s marry to you?”

Stella glared at the imp, the one thing she hated about him is his mouth and his constant snide remarks.

“I will ignore what you just said, now onto the plan, the best way to get back at Stolas is to kill the most important person to him in all of Hell,”

“Octavia?”

“Touch her and I will kill you myself,”

“Well you did said you don’t care who I have to go through to kill him so technically-”

Her hand slammed on the desk she was sitting behind.

“Touch my daughter and I will put you through such agony that’ll make Lucifer himself coward in fear,”

Striker bit his tongue, he knew when he had pushed his luck and he could see he was pushing the last of Stella’s buttons.

“No the one I want you to kill is the piece of shit that ruined everything, the thing that Stolas continues to see, I want you to kill Blitzo,”

The minute that name slipped out of her mouth Striker did not hesitate to take his blessed tip revolver and shoot her with it.

Her guard was down so she didn’t have the time to move until it was to late, the gun hit her right in the torso going right through her, paralyzing her.

“Ahh!” she shouted, Striker was getting ready to shot her again when the door open and someone grabbed him or try to.

Striker was able to handle the bodyguards that came in, being a wrath imp mixed with Lilith’s bloodline gave him enough strength to beat the shit outta the guards...but not enough to defend himself from Stella who had her own gun and shot him, her aim wasn’t good so all she was able to do was shoot his shoulder.

Striker screamed as he felt the pain, before he could do anything, one Stella’s guards pulled out an angel weapon and stabbed him with it.

The pain was the unbearable, falling to his knees his attacker began to stab his back making the assassin scream.

“Stop!”

The attacker turned to his queen.

“Taking him to the dungeon, I will deal with him there,”

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Striker held Blitz closer to his body, he’s never been this gentle with someone before. Never took his time with someone and enjoyed their body.

Never appreciated every sound his partner made or the expressions they made whenever he was pleasuring them.

Normally he would fuck them as fast as he could and leave, with Blitz he couldn’t do that.

The past three nights have been amazing, ordinarily Striker didn’t do this he didn’t try to get to know people, hell he tried to keep them as far away from him as possible, especially if he was gonna go through with his plans he couldn’t afford to have any weaknesses, nothing the overlords or royals can use against him.

And yet here he was, pleasuring Blitz, slowly moving in and out of him.

The feeling of his walls around his cock made Striker groan in pleasure, he took in every moan, whimper, whatever sound came out of Blitz he listen to it and tried to engraved it into his memory, knowing this will be the last time they ever get to be like this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He opened his eyes and watched as Stella glared at him, her servants pushed her around in her wheelchair as she stared at him with such hatred that Striker was surprised that the bitch didn’t have the ability to turn him to stone or kill him with her glare.

“Why the fuck are you protecting him?! He chose my good for nothing piece of shit of a husband and you still protect him?! He doesn’t care about you!”

Striker stared at her, he knew what she was trying to do, his sperm donor always told him people would say anything to hurt you so if they aim low than you aim lower.

“It pisses you off doesn’t,”

Stella glared at him before Striker continued,

“That one lowly imp managed to capture not one but two powerful beings attention, your husband and me, Lilith’s bastard. One tiny lowly imp has two of your puppets wrapped around his finger. Someone who’s supposed to be superior than imps, and yet every dick that you want to be fucked by is either getting fucked or fucking the imp that you hate,”

Stella’s cool facade fell as she lifted her fist and punched his stomach, the punch shouldn’t have hurt but because Stella’s rings were made of angel weapons it definitely was going to leave a mark.

“Kill him, make sure he doesn’t make it out of this alive!”

Striker closed his eyes ready to accept death and Her embrace, the last memory he had was the last night he and Blitz made love to one another, the night were Blitz and he curled around each other silently promising each other a piece of their heart to one another.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When he opened his eyes he was met with a bright light he blinked trying to clear the bluriness of his vision.

“Am I dead?”

“No but you’re gonna wish you were when I am done with you,”

Striker turned his head to the voice that sound awfully like Blitz’s.

Oh, it is Blitz and he was angry.

“Uhh...hi?”

“Hi! HI?! You’re ass has been lying in this bed for the past 22 hours we almost lost you and all you have to say is HI? YOU FUCKING DICK!”

Striker lifted himself up and watched as Blitz continued to glare at him.

“Do you have any fucking idea how scared I was! Fuck if it weren’t for the mating bite and Lady Lilith helping us we wouldn’t have saved you!”

Oh...right...he forgot that he gave Blitz a mating bite.

“Blitz-”

“Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I felt your pain? What I was feeling when I heard your screams?!”

The city imp got up from the chair he was sitting on,

“I almost lost you! I almost lost the first person to show me respect, to remind me what it was like to be loved and all you have to fucking say is hi!”

Striker looked at Blitz who was crying now,

Striker grabbed Blitz and pulled him on his lap as the city imp cried into his chest.

“Lady Lilith told me, told me that bitch tortured you because she wanted me dead! Why didn’t you tell her about me?! Why didn’t you just tell her where I was at so that she could’ve let you go?!”

Hearing that made Striker growled.

“You fucker you really think I would let her hurt you?!” he pulled back and grabbed the imp by his shoulders.

“I’ll die before I’ll let anyone touch you!”

“Don’t fucking say that! You almost die because of me!”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to!”

Blitz was getting mad, he didn’t want Striker to die because of him hell he didn’t want Striker to waste his time with someone like him, he deserved better and yet Striker nearly died because of him, and here he was telling him he would do it again without hesitations.

“FUCK! Why?! Just tell me why the fuck would you do that?! Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Striker’s eyes widen as did Blitz’s. Fuck that was not supposed to come out of his mouth, hell he was never supposed to tell Blitz that he loved him, that was a secret he was going to take to his grave and yet...and yet he didn’t regret saying, he didn’t regret telling Blitz the truth, his city imp deserved to hear those words.

“You...you dickwad no you don’t! You don’t love me! You can’t!”

Blitz curled in on himself not sure if he could believe what Striker was saying. He couldn’t be in love with him...right?

Striker wasn’t surprised that Blitz didn’t believed him, from the time they spent together Striker knew that Blitz had low self esteem and when Striker listened to him he thought he was playing with him but was surprised to learn that Striker genuinely cared for what he had to say, that he paid attention and wanted to learn more about him.

He had to tell him he meant it when he wanted to know more about Blitz even when he didn’t believe him.

“I’m in love with you,” he took Blitz’s face in his hands and place a kiss on his forehead, cheeks, the scars on his face.

“I love you Blitz, I’ve been in love with you since I heard about you,”

Blitz looked at him, before wrapped his arms around Striker’s neck and kissed him. the cowboy and the city imp kissed as if it would’ve been their last day in hell.

In a way it almost was, Striker thanked La Santa Muerte , for watching over him and making sure he returned to the one he loved.

Blitz was thankful towards Satan that Striker was alive and that he was here with him, the two pulled back for some much needed air, Blitz rested his head on Striker’s chest wanting to listen to his favorite sound in Hell. Striker’s heart beat.

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll stay by my side forever,”

“I promise you forever Blitz, when time wants to tear us apart I’ll stay by you, I promise you always; never will I wander from you never will I leave you; I promise you eternity, that even when our time comes and we are reincarnated into the next life I will always find you. I promise to love you Blitz my heart, soul, and body is yours forever and always and way pass eternity,”

“Wow...” Blitz pulled back and looked into Striker’s eyes.

“That was some fancy words you just used,”

Striker just smiled as he pulled Blitz closer to his body.

“For you and only you,”

#striker x blitzo #BlitzStrike #answers asked #anonymous #anon #Helluva Boss #helluva blitzo #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #helluva boss blitzo

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lucky-aspen · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel

TW: talk about abuse / panic attack

@tiamat-zx @zearbearz I’m sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy.

It had been an hour or so since both Jester and Beau had fallen asleep but Yasha had found herself wide awake. Her attention was drawn to the window of the tavern room they were staying in. Yasha once again volunteered to take the floor but now she was sitting on the windowsill, watching the outside world. She hadn’t bothered trying to sleep. Not yet at least, she preferred it this way. To make sure the others found sleep before her. In some sort of way she felt as if she was protecting them, keeping watch as their protective angel, even if she knew nothing would happen.

It was like this most nights. Stay up until everyone had fallen sleep before finding sleep herself. The moonlight lit up the room just slightly so she was able to make out most of the room in color with the help of her dark vision making everything clearer. The room didn’t have much, two beds and a night stand between the two of them where an unlit candle sat. Their belongings scattered across the floor in a way to have a much more comfortable sleep than wearing all their gear.

Yasha had sat her two swords to the side, both resting in the corner of the room, along with her bag she carried. She didn’t have much on her to begin with so her stuff didn’t take up too much space. Her long cloak she had on was used as a blanket of sorts in case she got cold. Luckily that wasn’t the case but it was more of a comfort at this point to wear it. She knew by this point nothing would happen, at least she hoped. She could feel sleep creeping it’s way to her. The way her head kept nodding off as her eyes began to close but only to suddenly snap her head back up, her eyes wide open once more. This went on for a few minutes and whenever she thought she couldn’t last any longer she was scared awake by a sudden movement.

Jumping she looked over to the bed closest to the door. Beau had sat up quickly, her chest going up in down quickly, breathing heavily as if she had been racing for hours. Sweat could be seen along her brow and the back of her neck. Strains of her, usually pulled up hair, rested against the frame of her face. Her eyes red and puffy, a sharp contrast from the blue iris’ she had. Her cheeks were wet with tears. The panic in her face was clear and Yasha was now wide awake. The heavy breathing didn’t seem to slow down and the panic was still rising from the human monk.

Yasha was swift to her feet. Her boots were heavy against the wood of the floor. Going to Beau’s bed side she sat down on the edge of it, “Beau!” She said placing a hand on Beau’s knee that was hidden underneath the blanket.

The panic that Beau held didn’t subside and clearly the touch didn’t help as she tried to kick away Yasha’s touch. Pulling away quickly she watched as Beau pressed herself against the head of the bed, “please don’t!” She stuttered out holding up a hand in some sort of way to protect herself. Her voice was raspy and held fear in it. Nothing like Yasha had heard before. Inside it broke Yasha and part of her held a fear of not knowing what to do.

Beau’s eyes were glassed over in a way that made her look right through Yasha and clearly whatever dream she had been having set her into a panic. She didn’t know what was real and what was not. Yasha didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have calm emotion like Caduceus but he wasn’t in their room and Jester was surprisingly still asleep. Bringing her hand up to Beau’s cheek she went to flinch away, her body tensing, her eyes closed tightly as if she was preparing for an ongoing attack.

Yasha’s touch was gentle and after a few seconds a soft light glow made itself known in the dark area around them. Yasha had no idea if this would work. She knew she could heal wounds but that was about it and Beau had no physical wounds. After a few seconds the panic Beau had slowly disappeared, the warmth of the healing was welcoming and familiar to her. It was a reminder on where she was.

What she was greeted with was different colored eyes looking back into her own blue ones. Worry was written all over Yasha’s face, something that was strange for a women who showed little emotion a lot of the time. The warmth of Yasha’s healing brought Beau back to the present day and she found her breath slowing down as she calmed. Reaching up she placed a hand on top of aasimar’s own hand.

“Yasha?” She spoke in a raspy voice. Her throat felt like it was on fire and each time she swallowed heavily it felt like sandpaper. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she took in the area around her. It had only been a dream. Thank the gods that it was but fear began to rise in her chest. Did she do anything? Did she say anything?

“Are you okay?” Yasha asked in a whisper.

Beau studied the features of Yasha’s face. She had no idea what time of the night it was but it was clear that the taller women hadn’t gone to bed yet. She was able to see the silhouette of Jester, still asleep in the bed next to her own. What had Yasha been doing up?

“Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just a bad dream I guess?”

“Just a bad dream? You were panicking really bad just a second ago. Would you like to talk about it?”

The concern never left Yasha’s eyes, her hand rested on Beauregard’s cheek. It grounded the brown haired women. A reassurance she wasn’t alone right now. She wasn’t at her home back in Kamordah. She was no where near her father. He couldn’t do anything but she could feel the shadow of his hand print on the cheek opposite of Yasha’s own hand, lingering there from the dream. It was less of a dream and event that plagued her mind. It was something she wished she could forget, or at least not fear for. It was something that already happened to her so why did it affect her so bad?

She hated that part of her. She was here now and with her new family who cared for her unlike her blood related one. He was something she shouldn’t fear but she did.

“It was about the night I left to go to the Cobalt Soul.”

Beau didn’t have to go into detail for Yasha to know what the dream had fully been about. What was troubling the human so much at this moment. It was strange seeing Beauregard so vulnerable. It had only happened a handful of time whenever Yasha was around. She knew how Beau tried to act all tough all the time, someone who seemed unbreakable but in reality that was the opposite and Yasha adored Beau’s emotions. Before Yasha could say anything Beau spoke once more.

“Did I say anything bad? Did I do anything?”

“Besides being scared and ‘please don’t’, there wasn’t much.”

“Shit- I’m sorry Yasha.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about Beauregard, you were having a bad dream. It’s understandable how you reacted.”

There was nothing for her to be sorry about but deep down in some way she was. She felt like if she had disturbed any peace Yasha was having. Her mind was scrambled. Thoughts over lapping the other and each time she blink she could for just a second see the dream she had seconds ago; she hated it. Pulling her hand away from Yasha’s own, the aasimar lingered for a few seconds before doing the same. The warmth of her touch was now gone and Beau could feel herself already regretting that decision. She felt the headache making itself known as she brought her hands up and palmed at her closed eyes.

“Have you ever had a bad dream?” The question was sudden and she could see Yasha was clearly thrown off by it as she looked up at her.

“I have, they’re not fun.”

“Tell me about it. Do you think they ever stop?”

Yasha looked at Beau, confusion rested all over her face. Yasha was more evident about her confusion but deep in Beau’s eyes that same confusion sat there. Someone who could research all the answers, one of the smartest members of the Mighty Nein was lost, just as lost as Yasha was.

“I don’t know. I think so. They become less over time but I don’t think they’ll ever just got away.”

Beau groaned in response, clearly not the answer she was hoping for.

“You know he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know that!” She said a little too loud before lowering her voice once more, “that’s why I want it to stop. I feel like a coward.”

Yasha could feel the pain in her chest. How Beau felt so negatively about herself. She was the opposite and as thoughts came to her mind to tell her that they became a jumbled mess. Letting out a sigh she spoke from her heart instead.

“You’re far from a coward Beau. You’re so strong. You faced your demons head on. That is something that I don’t think I could ever do. You’re so wonderfully and I and the rest of the Mighty Nein can see that.”

Swallowing heavily once more she gave a small genuine smile, “thank you Yasha, but you’re pretty strong too.”

Giving a nod in reply Yasha spoke, “maybe writing it down can help.”

Beau could feel her brow furrowed in confusion. A blush of embarrassment was the reply the monk got from Yasha as she averted her gaze.

“That was a stupid idea. I just thought you know, I sometimes have trouble with my feelings and I write stuff like that down. Help me clear my mind.”

Beau was quick to connect the dots as she eyes widen in response.

“That’s a great idea Yasha. That’s not stupid at all. I’ll be sure to do that tomorrow.”

Turning back Yasha gave a nod once again.

“What are you guys doing up? It’s the middle of the night you know, is everything alright?” Came a tired voice. Both women turned their heads quickly to the source of the voice. Blue hair a mess; Jester rubbed at her eyes to clear the fuzzy vision she had as she yawned.

“Everything is fine Jess.” Beau replied as Yasha stood from the bed she sat on. Beau had to stop herself from reaching out for Yasha to ask her to stay. To be a anchor in the waves of emotion the monk had been feeling.

Blinking Jester’s eyes went back and forth between Yasha who was now standing at her full height and Beau who had puffy eyes, clearly from crying in her sleep, “what happened?” Worried rested in Jester’s eyes as she looked at Beau.

“I just had a bad dream is all, Yasha helped.”

Yasha didn’t say a word as she made her way back to the windowsill. Sitting down she rested her back against the frame as she crossed her arms over her chest, watching the two women, “We were just about to go to bed.”

Jester glanced over at Yasha then brought her full attention back to Beau, “do you want to talk about?”

“I can tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you awake, like I said Yasha helped. I think I should be okay.”

“You sure?”

“One-hundred percent. Thanks Jester.”

With an unsure look from Jester she sighed, “fine, but don’t think you can get away tomorrow without telling me. Goodnight Beau, goodnight Yasha, both of you get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.” She yawned at the end.

“Of course.” Yasha said in response as she watched Jester lay back down to sleep.

“Hey Yasha.” Looking over she was meant with the blue eyes of Beauregard, “thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”

With a small smile tugging at the corner of her lip she spoke in a gentle voice, “you’re welcome.”

Laying down Beau’s eyes never left the outline of the figure who sat there looking out the window. Tomorrow she’d write her heart out and hoped that maybe it would help. That her thoughts wouldn’t be a mess, but right now she had no reason to worry. She had a angel looking over her and if Yasha had any idea that Beau was looking at her she made no comment. Sleep found Beau before Yasha, this sleep calmer than the first and all the monk hoped for was the same peace for Yasha; whenever sleep would find her too.

#critical role #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #beauyasha #my fanfic #my writing #long post #I’m sorry this took so long #I’m also sorry for any grammar errors

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Note

Can thy requesth a fic where the reader is sad and Sir Levi comforts them?😁

Hello my love and thank you for requesting this 👉🏻👈🏻 the format I chose was definitely inspired by @sasageyowrites and her amazingly heartbreaking story Crazier Things. This was quite the ride for me and I hope you like it, I intently made it open for interpretation so you can always ask for part two.

Summary: You, a former knight are helplessly in love with the Captain of the royal guard, Levi, who is about to go on a crusade and you write this cathartic letter to him to confess your love in case you never get to speak of your feelings in his presence.

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: angst, fluff (depends on the way you interpret this)

Roses and Dragon embroidery

"My dearest Levi,

It's bold of me to ever call you that, my Captain, but this isn't any ordinary occasion, you can tell by reading everything I'm going to write below, by the way my writing isn't too formal.

I suppose I should start by mentioning fundamental things regarding this letter. I know it's going to be long and you don't have to read it's entirety if you don't feel up to it, but it'd be my honor if you did. There are things in here that come from my soul and they're meant to only be told to you. I couldn't force you into anything, but it'd be soul relieving if you spare a little time to know what I held in my chest for years.

It's a given. When you've received this letter, I'm most likely dead, or, rather exiled to the the underworld, slayed by the proud blade of a Marleyan knight, but you should know that in this war I've fought well. Or so I like to think. My injuries have caused my weakness and I loathe I couldn't follow you into this new crusade, but staying back has felt relieving and mending to my soul. Spare the Marleyan knight for killing me if you ever come across them; there's no wrong or right in this world, they only seeked justice for their nation by slaying innocent peasants, isn't that what we do on our crusades to their kingdom as well?

But my dearest captain, between everything that's right or wrong in this world I hate to say I don't know where I belong. You're an entirely different case, though. Bear with me as I'm saying those words, I know they're going to make you clutch the paper in your hands but please don't shatter it before I get to speak my mind. You are a bastard son to to a prostitute, an orphan, the former protegee of a man who worked against the knights of the round table and then single heartedly joined them. You were a thief. I know you were thief, I know as much as the next person but I don't think anyone ever understood what it's like to switch positions like that. In the span of a short period of time you were head of your own knights. Me, included.

You are probably wondering why I mentioned your past, it was only for me to highlight your current position as my Captain. And I'm sorry that with this letter I'm somewhat putting you into another position, one that may have you suffering.

Time to jump into the important thesis of this letter. I don't know where you are right now. I'm imagining though, you're sitting by your window, with your armor off of your angelic form, sighing at my words as the sun is setting for our kingdom. In this short life, sun has definitely set for me, for us. There are a thousand things I wanted to say, but never found the courage to. And I'm sad, Levi, I'm sad you have to know this way.

But today, today as in the day I write this letter, is a nice day. For me. (Y/n). We've just gotten back from washing our clothes by the riverside, I've just told you I'm mad that we don't spend much time together anymore now that I'm relieved of my duties as your knight and you hummed in response, greeting with my words with a soft expression on your face, and Levi, right now I think you're going to be the death of me. I can't help it. I keep imagining the way your lips shall taste upon mine and I'm hungry. I'm hungry like a wolf, captain, excuse my words, but it's the truth, I know I'm such a coward for not speaking them, but hiding behind death and my poor ability to write I've found some comfort as to sharing them with you.

Sir Levi, the most honorable knight, today I, while lathering your green undershirt in soap, almost told you I'm in love with you and that I want us to get married. Now that you know your surname, now that you officially belong in the Ackerman clan, now that you can legally marry someone, I'd like to consider getting married to me. Forgive me if I have mistaken what I have perceived as your affections. But you seem to look at me in a way that I haven't seen you look at anyone else. You spend your days with me when you're back from crusades, you write me letters to let me know about your well being.

Am I wrong for loving you? I'll never figure out. It's only that my heart pulls at its strings whenever I see you, my stomach turns and i feel as if I've been thrown from a catapult. I've never understood how you can do that to me. Can you? Have you felt this way about anyone? My mind will haunt me in my very last moments for not knowing an infinite answer. I don't think I'll ever feel released by this heartbreak, even after death. My only release is a fixation on the way you shiver your silvery orbs into mine.

And oh those eyes of yours. I wish you would look at me while holding my hands into yours under the moonlight, I wish you'd tell everything I've imagined you saying. I've never heard the word 'love' fall from your lips in such way so that I could know what it would sound like when you'd say it to me inside my head. But Levi, yes, once again it's a but, I wanted to spend a lifetime listening to it. I wanted for you to tell me how you love waking up next to me as we would hear the river flow beautifully in the distance. My heart is burning, Levi. I know, I'm sad and that I'm crying as I'm writing those words, but I've really dreamt of a future with you, have you felt that way about me?

Sir Levi, the knight who owns my hearth, I only set my pen down for an hour, to simply talk to you over a hot cup of tea, because you had just finished hanging out our clothes to dry and for the first time in my life I've felt as if my prayers have been heard.

You kissed me.

You put your lips against mine, suddenly, as I turned to you while the sun was setting and it was more than I could ever dream of Levi. And you comforted me in such ways I'll never do any justice to simply write into words. How can you be such a godsent angel? My lips are numb and fuzzy and my insides are fluttering, I still can't believe this happened. I can't believe you actually feel that way about me. Suddenly this letter isn't just the goodbye of an unrequited lover, it's so much more. Now I have a reason to fight my way back into the castle. Maybe, Historia would let me be a maiden, it'd be safer to live in the castle, rather on my own even if it means I'll serve as a slave to the queen. I couldn't care less about serving the crown in any way, but for you I'd do anything.

You promised me, with a rose you said you found by the riverside that you'll come back from the crusade, safe and sound and in return I promised I would stay safe as well. Maybe that's the way things should happen, right? I'll start embroidering you your green undershirt, excuse me for the time I'm going to keep it from you and pretend I don't know where it is.

I'll embroider your most favorite thing on it. A white dragon. Because you remind me of one. I'm biting my silly lips as I'm writing this, my Captain, but I can't wait for you to hold me in your arms. And I can't wait for you to slightly smile when you see what I'm going to make for you. I'm going to stop my mumbling now. I someday will give this to you, once you're back from the crusade in Marley.

Love, (y/n), the brat who doesn't know how to waste minimum soap while washing clothes effectively."

Taglist go off: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @berrijam @ackermans-freedom-inc @ladyofpandemonium @callmepromise @hawkssnugget @alrightberries am I forgetting anyone? Please inform if if you want to be tagged to my stories or if I have forgotten to tag you.

#levi x reader #levi Ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman #levi imagine #snk imagine #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot x you #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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icecreamsundayonajulyafternoon · 3 years

Text

Alcina Dimitrescu/f reader

+some well meaning Chris

I also posted this on my ao3 account Homoeroticmicrowave as a part of my resident evil oneshots book the link to which is : https://archiveofourown.org/works/32351686/chapters/80202100

For context in this the reader works with Chris but got kidnapped by Alcina and ended up bonding with her

Anyway behold My dignified shit post:

Alcina tilted your head up by your chin with one of her claws with a gentle sort of care “I might just be enamoured by you my little maiden” her voice had a certain air to it as the power she carried held strong though the coldness it had been coddled by withered away.

“And I am just glad to have met someone as truly brilliant as you are you make my heart feel like it’s faltering” Alcina’s tensed muscles and rigid posture seemed to deflate as her claws retracted.

“My little human girl you truly are one of a kind you are too good for this world and it’s cruelty that it afflicts you with”

Her hands incased yours as she held them so lightly ”Stay with me” Alcina’s eyes steadily gazed into your own “I want you to stay with me in this castle forever with me. I want you to marry me and be mine and let me be yours”

You almost thought she was joking but Alcina Dimitrescu would never make such a joke and to claim that she had would be ludicrous it was simply not in her nature to be so brash with her humour. However, declarations received a treatment that was a far cry to how her delicate words of amusement were handled

“I can give you a life worthy of living for you. I’ll have you adorned in whatever clothes you would see fit to clad your body and express your beauty in all of its forms, I’ll have you living a luxurious life that would make a deity envious, your every desire would be fulfilled if you only ask and I promise you I will give you everything if only to see you relish the world you live in” there was a certain warmth to her tone that she never previously expressed to you.

”It’s a pitiful world full of devastation and tyranny and I will not have it harm you from hence forth”

You released one of your hands from her gentle grasp so that your hands could reach out

“You make me feel pink and small and like I’m fluttering like my feet could rise from the ground and I’d float in the air like some sort of silly, little cartoon character when they’re smitten by someone” you felt overheated and uncomfortable as you spoke but you continued

“I would stay with you whether or not you had riches to offer me. Castles and gowns and jewellery is all very lovely but it’s not what keeps me yearning. I want you Alcina, I want you and I want to spend every moment that I can with you” you smiled despite your inability to even glimpse her face. A coward you were and yet a lovesick fool you were all the same.

“I found a home with you Alcina.” Your eyes finally reunited with hers and as she looked at you, you had never felt more loved than in that moment. “Let me be your home too….let me marry you” the words caressed her heart and she moved your arms so that they fell around her neck and she lifted you up by your waist. “I treasure every moment I have with you my love” she whispered. “Let this world we’ll build last forever”

When you had a moment alone while getting ready you radioed into whatever members of your team were still alive and had their radios still working and on them “So I’m not gonna be able to go back with you guys but everything’s pretty good so uh yeah I don’t really know how to explain the predicament- no that’s too negative a word- situation- no, no this is not a situation that makes it sound like there’s some kind of situation- what I meant to say the events that preceded my current happenings can be perceived as a little odd however everything is fine, goodbye forever”

You threw your radio out of the window and into the snow and presumed it had broke. Chances were your teammates would not have heard your message but it was still polite to let them know you were alive and well and would simply just not be joining them on their way home or anything at all again ever because you were about to be married to a giant, homocidal lady. They could be angered by your supposed ‘disrespectful’ tone concerning how you address everyone and didn’t go over formalities but you were gifted with this thing known as manner which influenced your decision to inform them of your lack of presence on the return journey before hand.

You were just considerate like that.

You gushed over the dress you had been so graciously gifted. It truly was a work of art tailored just for you. Each detail of it was made with a passionate precision that had you gawking with glee as you admired every segment of material woven into the fabric.

It was a true marvel and you felt like a piece of artwork yourself that would be displayed with great care in an art museum. You looked like a glamorous painting that was created with such integral beauty that the expertise of the artist could not be measured by any title or prideful words.

A sense of pride ghosted your senses and you found your fingertips brushing the mirror with such a light touch that you couldn’t br sure your skin had made contact with the mirror at all. You were so subconsciously convinced what you were looking into was glazed with deceit and if you touched the mirror you would break the illusion of beauty and your true form of much lesser looks would be restored. But that didn’t happen and for a moment you could sympathise with narcissus as much like them you found yourself fawning over the being of beauty that you weren’t entirely sure was yourself.

You were truly a bride who’s beauty was beyond befitting of any title that could be bestowed upon you and you thought yourself to be belonging with angels of artwork, your place was dancing with the muses who were worth more than simple adoration and worship.

You weren’t a god but you were blessed by Aphrodite’s touch and you were sure simple folk could not help but be too mesmerised to experience jealousy at your envious appearance.

If it were a sin to be enraptured in revelling in your own appearance than you would relish the hellfire that rained down to scorch your flesh and soul. You’d paint such a pretty picture dancing in the misery of hell gifted by sins. Lucifer had treated you well and you thanked them for gracing you with what God couldn’t.

Alcina’s voice rang out like a dove from behind the door and lulled you away from the mirror your attention had been stolen by. “Perhaps you could be so gracious as to adorn me with your presence”

You turned to face the direction of her voice “of course anytime my love” you said earnestly.

“I won’t look at you now nor do I want you to see me just yet but I couldn’t help but to speak to you just for a moment beforehand…I want it to be special my dear and I won’t want for it to be any less special than either of us want for it to be because you deserve everything you want and yet lover I find myself needing to be selfish and needing to hear your voice”

”Alcina it’s okay” you couldn’t help but to let a giggle escape you “I can’t help but feel nervous to see you and yet I can’t wait to I love you and tonight is special because it’s our night it’s special because it marks the first day I get to be with you forever”

You head Alcina let out a small laugh tainted by an agitating anxiousness. “So do I”

You felt breathless as you stepped out into the night. Donna your apparent personal seamstress and now flower girl guided you to where it would take place.

Alcina stared as though she had witnessed something that couldn’t be explained by any science or rationality. While she herself was a sight to take in when she saw you she felt as though her childhood dreams were coming true as you seemed mythical.

When your eyes met her you felt like you were falling and you didn’t want to stop. Not for a moment. She was gorgeous. A wedding dress perfectly fit for her graced her elegant features. She looked ethereal and you wanted to reach out to touch her. Each step you took seemed so slow. Far too slow for your liking. You wanted to be in her arms and soon.

When you did finally meet her while tradition forbid you to kiss her just yet you at least reached out to hold her hands. Your eyes glistened with joy all of the love you had barely fit in your body as it threatened to burst out of you in bounds of laughter and tears. You felt so much and you wanted to feel like that forever. You wanted for this moment to last forever. You wanted to be held by her forever.

Your hair seemed so gorgeous and lustrous in the glowing moonlight. Fairy lights decorated the trees surrounding you and fireflies twirled in the breeze. To think you would see such beauty and wonder in what had once been a placed that had brought you such terror and havoc.

Alcina held you tenderly as though she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She wouldn’t be isolated in that feeling as you were swarmed by disbelief, you didn’t shun all of the conflicting emotions you were feeling. Not for a moment. You welcomed them and you couldn’t help but tingle with the relief of any negative thoughts or surprise being overwhelmed with ecstatic delight. You had thought of marriage in the general sense before when considering where the events of your life might lead you and while it wasn’t conventional not anything close to what you could have ever expected you would gladly spend the rest of your days residing in Dimitrescu castle with Alcina. She really was one marvellous woman.

You had insisted on certain songs being played at your wedding from fun songs you had once joked about being played at your wedding to irresistibly romantic guilty pleasures that you would have been teased mercilessly for an infinite amount of times had you ever admitted you would want played. But that was in another lifetime and while Alcina may not always understand certain aspects of your interests she was always glad to watch you indulge in them.

You two danced, chests pounding with a romantic joy you had never thought existed in the way you felt it. As your arms wrapped around her neck as she lifted you up you couldn’t help but think how a much younger version of yourself would feel giddy at knowing how in love you were. Though knowing your child self the word ‘gross’ would also most likely make an appearance as the topic of love.

You admired every detail of her face and when you kissed her you thought about how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with her. However long you had would be amazing as long as it was spent by your side whether it be one day or one hundred years you wanted to spend it all with her. You had been bewitched by her and you couldn’t be happier.

Then your moment was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Violence and stubborn hatred truly had a way of ruining even the most kindest and beautiful of moments.

Alcina scooped you up and ran, throwing you over her shoulder and quickly moving so that you may escape the presence of aggression and be safe in the sanctuary she made for you.

Over her shoulder you saw Chris running, bullets blazing as he ran with a determined rage. You thought he would have been long gone by now. You had convinced Alcina to give up her part in aiding Miranda’s plan. Surely you could convince her to let these people leaves unscathed.

You moved in front of Alcina, attempting to quell her anger and bitter bloodlust with promises of trust and hope. You begged her to at least let you try to form some kind of truce so that you would not have to live knowing people you cared about destroyed each other. Hesitantly she let you go. Though her reluctance was apparent and she looked so eager to snatch you up and lock you far from those who put your life at risk.

You left the castle and approached the direction you were adamant Chris and probably his team would soon be.

Geez he really went to the effort to risk his life searching for your and stealing you back with him all so he could lecture you on your lack of formality and far too casual tone when you had radioed in as well as your blatant disrespect, poor execution of the mission and your inconsideration of the expense of the property you had been given. Sounds about right. It was a mistake to attempt some kind of means of communication really. And now look what happened your wedding was ruined.

You raised your hands up to show you meant no harm when Chris and found and approached you.

There was a moment between Chris properly processing you were there and him first catching sight of you where it felt like everything had been put on pause. He eyed you suspiciously as though you were some sort of distraction, a part of a malicious scheme Alcina had made in order to proficiently destroy any hope of Chris’s rescue attempt and mission succeeding.

”Hey” you waved awkwardly in a hopeless attempt to break through the immense pressure and tension of the situation “nice to see you’re still alive and stuff that’s cool” your voice rang out through the silence. “I’m alive too which is fun looks like we have that in common”at that point you were just throwing dumb words at him in a blatant attempt to get him to respond in a way that wouldn’t suck.

Chris grabbed you and pulled you into a vice-like hug. You felt him lift you up “It’s good to see you….Where is that thing? What did that bitch do to you?” He seethed.

”Nothing she actually had a pretty good sense of hospitality-did you come here on your own without anyone-“

He had you back on the ground but his grasp never left you as he shifted his grip so that he now had a steady hold on your shoulders. “This isn’t the time to act like nothings wrong if you’re injured or you’ve been drugged with something you need to tell me” his hold on you was just as secure as it was when he hugged you even if he no longer had you squished against him.

“I’ve not been hurt really I’m not lying to you Chris” you looked him in the eyes and tried to communicate with your facial expressions that you were telling the truth.

Chris sighed slightly but nodded “good, we need to leave we can continue this conversation when we’re safe-“

You put a hand on his chest to put some distance between you both “look Chris I’m- I’m not leaving. I’m staying here” Chris looked a mixture of perplexed and horrified.

He stepped closer to you so he was practically leering over you “what are you talking about! We’re going. Now.”

“No Chris I’m not. I love Alcina and I’m not leaving her. I won’t. You can leave I’ll make sure she won’t come after you just as I made sure she no longer interfered with Ethan finding Rose but I won’t go with you”You stared defiantly at him as you stood as tall as you could despite him towering over you.

”Alcina? Is that what that bitch got you to call her!You think you love that thing! Jesus Christ what did she do to you!” Chris looked disgusted at your words.

“Hey man I don’t ruin your weddings do I the least you could do is let me go back to her-“ Chris held your arm tightly preventing you from leaving as he radioed into someone.

”I’ve acquired S/n. Clearly they’re under some kind of influence- they must have been brainwashed or put in some form of hypnotic state!” Chris hypothesised to the person on the other end of the radio upon your immediate reluctance to leave. The moment you suggested you had no interest in leaving he stopped talking directly to you. “We’ll meet you there soon we’ll need a medic and possibly some means of restraint for them” he tucked the radio back into his pocket and turned his attention back on you.

“I’m all here I’m just genuinely okay to stay here” you implored him to recognise that you were in fact all there.

Chris ignored your attempts to defend your sanity and slung you over you shoulder. “Fuck are you doing!” You yelped at his sudden action.

“I don’t know what that freak did to you but I won’t let you suffer! I won’t leave you in this hell hole! We can fix this I promise!” He seemed so genuinely concerned and you understood why but you just needed him to listen. You knew how ugly this was going to end up if he didn’t.

”Stop calling her that! You know nothing of her! There’s nothing to fix! She’s been nothing but kind to me! Please just put me down and leave!” Your pleads were wasted as he stopped responding to you.

Panicking you thrashed in his stone like grip even going so far as to try to bite and scratch him. He grunted in response to your little attack and repositioned you so that you couldn’t easily hurt him and if you did you wouldn’t do much damage.

Your fears were ignited when you heard Alcina’s voice rampaging through the wind. Chris cursed and you began begging you to put him down and leave you. Unfortunately, he interpreted your words as an attempt to sacrifice yourself for his sake, which he refused to go along with.

He didn’t let go of you as he began running and quickly grabbing a gun which he fired at Alcina with a precision you wish he lacked. You started screaming begging for them not to fight but your words crumbled as your weeping shouts were overpowered by the insatiable violence that inevitably occurred due to both parties refusal to attempt any form of reason.

While you understood the motivation both of them had and if you heard one perspective by itself you could easily side with it if the other one remained unknown to you.

Chris set you down by a tree after tying you to it. You blubbered through your messy tears that he needed to stop and listen to you for just a moment. You were desperate for them to stop before it was too late but just as always you were ignored as Chris left you to fight Alcina.

Your thoughts flurried as paranoia and fear truly sunk in and you were sure one or both of them would die. As you were sure you would lose everything to the cruelty of bloodshed. Time seemed to drag on and you struggled to release yourself from the rope that held you securely. You were so sure that one of them were dead as horrific sounds seeped into the cold night air.

Your fears proved true when you heard Alcina’s screams rattle throughout the air. Your breath hitched. What just happened-

Your head snapped at the sound of footsteps and your whole body felt like it was burning as you saw Chris’s weathered face.

He untied you and lifted you up into his arms that seemed to tremble ever so slightly. “What-what just” you could barely get the words out of your mouth. It couldn’t have possibly meant what-no there had to be some other explanation. Any other explanation.

”She won’t hurt you anymore” with those words you fell a part.

Chris remained silent as you sobbed. He just kept walking. He was sure you were just experiencing some kind of false mourning as the result of whatever Alcina had done to you. And yet guilt threatened to creep at the doubt that teased the back of his mind. He held back his thoughts and focused on getting you home.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #biohazard #chris redfield #alcina dimitrescu #lgbt girl #resident evil fanfic #angst #wlw #lgbtqia

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Through The Storm

Kita Shinsuke x F!Reader

Unfurling: He should have chase whatever dream and things that he wanted. Because it was better to die trying—than keep living in the wonder of another possibility.

Pt. 2 ⇚ Epilogue

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't dare close your eyes, as what you saw was the light grey strands of hair, with a black tip at the end that reminded you of a vintage pen that was dipped with ink. When darkness engulfed your vision, there was only a pair of brown eyes, staring deep into your soul.

If you turned your back and told him the truth, where would you stand right now? If only you stayed and waited for his response, would it be his name that you carry the last name to? Would you belong to him, instead of your best friend?

You eyed your reflection on the mirror which covered the entire side of the wall. Swallowing a huge lump when your mind wandered once again to another possibility of life that you had abandoned. It made you sick, stomach churned with guilt and shame that was too excruciating for you to bear.

How delightful life would be if you were honest, if everyone could just spill what was exactly inside their mind—or in this case, their heart. Your breath sounded laboured, like you have been running for a thousand miles without taking a break.

But yes, for the past years, you had been running. Running away from the reality about who it was that you actually love. Every time you thought it was enough, he came back, stood right beside you as if you were just running around in place.

Love, who said that this feeling was the greatest invention that humankind had discovered? It was so unpredictable, uncontrolled, you couldn't choose who you ended up falling in love to.

The only thing that you could do was try, to get the love that you wanted. To grasp someone that had your mind, body, and soul—or die trying. Because if not, it would haunt you for the rest of your life.

You gasped a little when the lady's maid tightened the dress, making it a little bit hard for you to breathe. And it didn't help you at all with how you already felt suffocated by your own feelings.

White. A shade of colour that meant purity and innocence, wrapping perfectly around your figure. But with the way you had been lying in front of everyone, nothing in you radiated good news. And you really wanted to just tear the perfect dress into pieces, wanting to show everyone that everything was just a facade.

Sometimes you felt like you were some kind of monster, some kind of storm. The only thing that you could do was either wrecking the once serene life, or turned everything that you passed by into a dust.

But no one noticed that, except maybe him.

"Do you like someone?" You choked on the carton drink that you got from the vending machine, didn't expect your classmate to blurt the question to you. After all, both of you were just hanging out on the rooftop, getting away from all the prying eyes and meddlesome squeal of his fangirl.

He was frantic when you coughed like that, like you could die at any moment. His large hand immediately patted your back to calm you down, with dark grey orbs lingering with worry as he looked at the pained expression on your face.

It was soothing, the warm touch of your best friend. His palms going up and down your back, so gentle as if he had the most fragile creature on his grasp. In his eyes, you were. Since the first time you knocked on the door of his house with a basket of food on your hand, he was sold.

Through his silvery orbs, you were some kind of angel that the deity bestowed upon him. With a gentle smile that you threw for everyone, a witty remark that you jabbed on his brother—from the very first minute he knew you, he was sure that you were the one.

"Osamu..." Your eyes peered on him, sending the poor boy a glare to get some apology or explanation after what he said. But he just raised one of his eyebrows from confusion, "What with the sudden question, you doofus!" You punched his arms playfully, making him winched—dramatizing of course, not too different from his twin brother.

"Jeez, you are abrasive as fuck." He tried to sound so hurt, pouting at you as he caressed his own arms to soothe the 'pain' that you caused.

"And you are one dramatic bitch."

Bantering with Miya Osamu has probably become your daily life. When you were with him, everything felt like your life would be perfect. As if knowing that he would always be there with you boosts your confidence as you tried to be the best version of yourself.

You didn't answer his question and just laid your head on his shoulder. He didn't mind at all, even if Atsumu teased him day by day about how the two of you looked like an old couple, he was actually okay with the mockery that he received.

The breeze touched your exposed skin, making a shiver run down your spine. As much as you love the privacy that you got by escaping here, sometimes you just wanted the wind to dwindle down.

But then again, times go by and every time the wind impaled your skin and made you shivered, someone would take off his blazer and place it on your torso. Even if you just showed the tiniest bit of frostbite, he would make sure that you were not going to feel any kind of cold in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you, Osamu." You smiled at him, fingers fiddling on the sleeve of his blazer.

"You are welcome." He relaxed once again, letting you get closer to him like before.

He noticed this habit of yours. How you always looked down and your digits played with any fabric that first touched your skin; meaning that you were thinking of something—or perhaps you were just nervous.

The opposite hitter always gave you a space. He never demanded anything from you as he just gave, and possibly waiting for you to give back. But never once he pestered you over something that you wouldn't say or you wouldn't do.

He would wait, because he knew when you were ready, words would pour freely from your lips.

"I confessed to someone yesterday." But that was not the statement that he wanted to hear.

Because yesterday, you were only together with him at lunch, teasing each other like usual. Because yesterday, you didn't go home with him and his twin after practice. Because yesterday, you excused yourself to talk with his captain to talk about the club.

Because yesterday, he wasn't the one you confessed your love to.

And he still remembered how your eyes glimmered every time you subconsciously gazed towards the captain of the team.

"Yeah?" But he was your best friend, "How did it go?" So he needed to be supportive towards you, even if it would destroy himself in the process.

He expected you to sound all lovey dovey, maybe being excited for the practice today because you couldn't wait to meet the one that you oh-so-love that much. He prepared himself to see you everyday with his captain, being a power couple. After all, who in their right mind would turn their back on you?

But after seconds filled with silence, the only thing that came out from your lips was just a sob. Started with you biting your lips, heads hanging low with tears dropping to your lap, then you let out a soft cry. One that broke his heart because never once he thought he would see you like this.

You were someone that never let anything get in the way of your happiness. Every problem that you got, you made sure with time you could face it. Every obstacle that came in your way, a smile always slipped on your face as you searched for a way out.

So when you were here beside him, letting out a painful cry with hands clenching on your uniform, he wanted to just rip his heart apart because the sight was too much for him. Someone as beautiful, as lovely, as wonderful as you, shouldn't burn with agony like this.

God, He closed his eyes as he pulled you to his embrace, letting your tears to seep on his shirt, Let Kita-san love her, please. He didn't want to see you like this, so in pain. If it took him heartbreak just to see you smile like usual, it would all be worth it, I promise I would be okay by just being on the sideline.

His fingers slipped in between the strands of your hair, caressing it gently as he wanted to make sure that you know. He wanted you to know that no matter what happened he would always be there for you, even if he never said it out loud.

"I am sorry," His low voice sounded so sincere, "I didn't mean to make you remember." He subconsciously leaned towards the crown of your head, kissing it softly as he could feel himself trembling a little.

"It's not your fault." You pulled away, wiping the tears that kept cascading down your cheek, "I did something stupid anyway." Snorting, you try to coat the pain you had, turning it into a joke instead, "Like, goodness. Confessing? Me, confessing? I should have known that it would ruin everything."

You were just a storm after all, nothing in your way could be great once it involved someone else.

"What do you mean ruin everything?"

"Oh come on, Osamu." You rolled your eyes, chuckling bitterly from his question, "I can't confess right, I ran away before he could say anything. What if he actually said yes? But me being a stupid ass decided to just turn my back on him. What if he-"

"He would have chased you." Your best friend answered your question as if he knew what was right inside the captain's mind, "If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." It was not like he said it out of the blue, because that was the truth.

When you confessed to someone and they liked you back, they would do anything to let you know that the feelings were mutual. It was as simple as that, because if he was in the shoes of his captain, he would grab your hand and smash his lips on yours.

But he was not Kita, and Kita was not him.

Some people could be a coward—sometimes without themselves even realising it.

"If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." You kept reminding yourself with the same statement that your best friend—now fiancé—said to you from all those years ago. Every time you start to think about the possibility of the unknown, you always chant those words like a mantra.

Your voice resonating through the entire room, accompanying you once all the lady's maid left you alone after they were done with your dress. Right now as you walked around to each corner of the room, you didn't know anymore was it the dress that made you feel suffocated, or the jitters that struck your core.

Every now and then, your mind always brought you back to that fateful night. The night where everything changed between you and the light grey haired man that you adore so much.

You always had hope, that one day when he looked at you, he would tell you the one thing that you wanted to hear the most. Every morning since that night, you woke up and you prayed to the universe, begging for him to look at you and gave you a response.

That was what you needed, an answer. An answer from the words that you blurt. But even after days went by, even after your best friend confessed the hidden feelings that were long buried, Kita Shinsuke never turned his face on you.

It was the sense of uncertainty that made you go crazy. Since high school years you never settle your feelings as your mind and heart always roamed upon him. Over and over like a disease that always came back even when you already drank a medicine.

You sat at the crook of the window, letting the sun from the outside hit your skin. Your fingers fix the folds on your dress, wanting to make sure that it wouldn't look crumpled as you walked down the aisle.

Do you really want to, though? It hit you again, Do you really want to walk down the aisle to him? The doubt, the different kind of love that you had for your fiancé.

At this point, you really wanted to cry. Never once in your life you thought you would be such a catastrophe to someone that not under any condition gave you something less. Miya Osamu always presented you with all the finer things in life, putting your happiness on top of him. And you? You could not even give him one thing that he asked from you.

Love. One pure love only for him.

No matter how many times you wanted to forget about the first love of yours, no matter how many kisses that you had shared with anyone else, no matter how many times you intertwined your soul with your fiancé—you always came back, asking the universe about the undiscovered route of your life.

"Hello?" You covered your mouth when the beeping of the call turned into his voice, "(L/n), are you there?" What the fuck are you doing?

Your hands were trembling by now, eyes widened as your body moved by itself. One minute you fixed the folds on your dress, another and you had your phone on your hand, a call connected to the one person that your heart always yearned for, "(L/n)?"

"Kita-san..." You muttered his name, so slowly since you were still hesitant.

"Yes?" His voice sounded so gentle. Even with how low his voice was, you always felt like you were engulfed in a soft blanket, "Are you alright?" What is that? Why did he ask you the question as if he threw it to himself.

You licked your lips, debating to answer him with which scenario. It was easy for you to create a new scenario in your life, ask him where he was, maybe teasing him a little here and there. Having a casual conversation as if every time you talked to him it didn't feel like you swallowed some thorns.

But you were done lying to yourself.

"No," Your palm went up and down your arms, trying to gather some warm, "I am not alright, Kita-san." The rays of sunshine that touched your skin couldn't even save you from the coldness that you felt right now.

"Do you need something?" His voice lingered with worry right now, and somehow you could see how he scrunched up his eyebrows right now, "Should I call Osamu?"

"Don't!" He was a little bit taken aback by your outburst, so he decided to keep silent, waiting for you to calm down, "Where are you, Kita-san? Are you alone?"

You knew that he must have wanted to just hang up the call, because he had feelings about where this conversation would lead to. Then again he was curious, wondering what was your intention by calling him out of the blue like this. Wondering what he could possibly get by continuing this call.

If it was him in the past, he would hang up immediately. Since he could taste the wreckage that might come since his name rolled down from your lips.

"I am at the restroom right now." He wouldn't have any second chance, he knew that, "And yes, I am alone." But he couldn't help but keep hoping, no matter how many times it already crashed and burned in front of his eyes.

"Alright," You breathed out the words and leaned your back on the window, "May I talk to you for a second?" No, he knew where this was going, he wouldn't let the same thing happen again.

"Yes?" But just like all those years ago, his voice betrayed him once again, "You can talk to me." So he decided to succumb on the storm, "Seconds, hours, days. You can talk to me as long as you want." After all, he was a changed man, he was braver now.

You snickered a little from his words. He was a lot more talkative now compared to the high school days that you shared with him, and it made you smile. Because this was a conversation that you wanted to have with him for a long time.

"It wouldn't be long though." You sighed, wondering how he looked right now, "I just wanted to ask and said a couple of things." He must have looked so majestic, maybe wearing a black suit, a contrast to your fiancé's.

"Alright. What is the question?"

He was nervous, as he waited for you to utter any syllable that could make him feel at ease. While you on the other hand, you still hesitate, as you were afraid that this question would reopen some old wound.

"Why do you distance yourself even more after that night?" His breath hitched from the question, "And why you acted like... Like you were disgusted by me, Kita-san?"

You could hear his soft breath through the phone which was being held once you were done blurting the questions.

"Because I am just a coward," He muttered slowly, clenching his hand into a fist, "I never disgusted by you, (L/n). I am the one who felt disgusted with myself from putting you in such predicament."

"What do you mean by a coward?" You stood up, trying to calm yourself down by circling the room, "You were not. From all these years I had known you, you were everything but a coward."

"I am a loser then." After all, he did lose you. "I just wanted you to know that it was all on me." He should have turned around and faced you. "So anything that you had in mind right now—no, you have done nothing wrong."

He sat on the luxurious chair that was being put in the middle of the restroom, one hand tapping on his knee. It was just minutes before the ceremony began, and yet here he was; having a heart to heart conversation with someone that would have the same last name as his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

"Shinsuke, are you there?" He could hear a knock from the outside, the familiar voice of his best friend muffled a little, "Osamu was looking for you."

"You go first, I am fixing my suit." It made him frown, lying, "I will be there in five minutes." But he needed to stall the moment, he had to listen to whatever you wanted to say to him.

It was scary what love could do to him, to the both of you. He didn't know whether you were still there on the other side of the screen, or were you already gone but forgot to hang up the call. There was no voice that he could hear, not even how your breath fanned the microphone like before.

"(L/n), if you still have something that you wanted to say to me, you need to say it now." He didn't mean to do that, to enforce you like this, "Are you still there?" But if he didn't hear anything from you now, he knew you would haunt him evermore, "I-"

"I love you."

You breathed out the words, the one that you were supposed to blurt on that fateful night. It was the three words that could change everything, "I love you, Kita-san." You repeated, again and again like a broken record.

The reflection on the mirror in front of him showed how ghostly he looked, face turned into a whiter shade of pale as he listened to you. It was not fair for him, to hear you confess such things while you were going to walk down the aisle to someone else that was not him.

Tears started to prickle at the corner of his eyes, debating about the words that he should say once you stopped reciting those words that he wanted to hear since years ago. Since that time when he saw how your hands were taken by another.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He swallowed a huge lump, he needed to remember that you were not his. You were just a storm, and a storm only came to wreck and then leave. It wouldn't be forever—at least that was what he wanted to believe.

"I just need to..." You dabbed the tears on the corner of your eyes with a tissue, softly so your makeup wouldn't be ruined, "I need to say it, Kita-san. I am always in love with you, but—"

"I know,"

"You know."

You let out a small chuckle, one that tasted so bitter as you tried to smile in between the wrenching pain that you felt right now. What was it actually that you try to achieve here—by confessing the love that would never bloom?

Kita Shinsuke was your storm, visioned as someone with a cold persona. The first time you saw him, your mind went blank as if it was taken away from you. Even when your face touched the ground, what flickered in your mind that momentous morning was him; wondering who that magnificent being with light silvery hair was.

Silent engulfed the call, as two souls that crave for another knew there was no future for them, "I am sorry, Kita-san. I—"

"Will you call me by my name?"

"What?"

"My first name." It was an unexpected request, "Call me by my name." Please.

He always wondered how his name would sound if it came from your lips. Those delicate lips that shaped into a gentle smile for almost every second passed, as if it was how the deity designed you by default.

"Shinsuke..."

He shouldn't, he should not have asked. Because now it made him crave for more; more of you, more of your time.

"This may sound selfish. But one more time, please—"

"Shinsuke," Your voice wavered a little as tears ruined the makeup on your face, "Shin." But he didn't expect you to call him that, "Shinsuke. Shin." Sounded so beautiful, as if he was in nirvana and an angel whispered his name.

He wanted more, that was what he needed to hear from you since years ago. Regret started to corrupt his soul once again. If it took all the money in this world to get a time machine, he would achieve it.

If back then he turned himself to see you, chasing you down the street and grabbed your hand. Telling you what you were doing to him; all the longing feelings, one that he didn't quite understand that time—he was sure, that you would be his by now.

But what in the past maybe should just stay in the past,

"Thank you,"

Someone knocked on the door of the dressing room, informing you that it was almost time. Ah, having a 'pleasant' conversation with someone surely made the time turn so fast.

In one way or another, telling him what was inside your heart for years made you feel lighter. Like finally, after unlocking the love that you clutch deep inside your heart, letting it go seems like the best decision in life.

"You are welcome," You draw in the deep air around you, "I love you. Goodbye." And for the first time in forever, you could breathe without a knife in your heart.

"Goodbye," He whispered softly, letting the tears cascading down his cheek one more time. He could see your smile on the other line—pleased even if you never got a proper answer for all of your confession. Then you hung up; leaving him there with words that better left unsaid, "I love you."

You clutched your phone in your hand, orbs never left the screen as his name still displayed on the tiny surface. Shaking your head, you decided to open up your gallery, scrolling through hundreds of pictures of you and your fiancé.

Then you stopped when you reached one particular photograph.

With one last smile, scrutinizing every little detail that the old picture portrayed, you muttered a little farewell—and erased the portrait that you always came back to before.

Because it's time; to let go of the past.

"Samu, why did you have this?" You helped your fiancé to clean up some of his stuff from his childhood house. And in the middle of it, you found some old photographs from his high school days. Lots of them were just a group picture with the entire team, some were memories of you and him that you two shared, but one random picture popped out.

That one picture you thought you wouldn't see anymore.

"Oh, that's Kita-san," The black haired man popped behind you. His answer made you roll your eyes.

"I know who the heck is that, Samu." You really wanted to just flick his forehead at the moment, somehow you wonder how could you end up with someone as oblivious as him, "I am the one who captured it after all."

"Oh, sorry," He snickered when he saw how annoyed you looked, "I think it was from when you gave it to 'Tsumu and Suna, guess it slipped on my box."

You nodded at this and gazed back to the photograph in your hand. His smile was soft, the smile that you wished you saw a lot when he was still the captain of Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club. Your finger traced the printed picture softly, as if you really touched his skin, "Take your time."

Getting lost in some old memoir, you didn't realise as Osamu never once left your side. His dark grey orbs scanned your face, and he could see how you were still longing for the light grey haired man. The pain inside your eyes, the yearning, even if it overlapped with your feelings towards himself—the love that you had for his old captain, was still there.

"What do you mean?"

"I can wait forever, take your time."

Your fiancé leaned his body close to you, resting his velvety lips on your forehead. He knew too well how much it torture you too, to had one chapter in your life that was still unfinished. To know that it was still incomplete, and yet you continued to live.

And just like what he promised himself to, he would always be there for you. Even if he was just on the sideline, then by all means he would wait for you to bring him to your main path of life. Maybe someday, it would be just him that you needed.

Classics, pieces of music notes were gently intertwined to become such a masterpiece. The pianist started to move their bewitched fingers once the bride stood on the starting runway, ready to walk to an astonishing future that may come.

You looked so beautiful in his eyes, just like any other time in his life he had seen you. The same messy hair that flowed by the wind all those years ago, was now brushed gently as the sleek white veil rested on the crown of your head, down to cover all the strands in your hair.

Every time you move your feet, it feels like it brought you closer to a lighter life that you had been wanting to have. Your gaze filled with wonder, belief, and a little bit of nervousness. He couldn't blame you, since there was no practice wedding, it was not something that humans could prepare for.

If it was him, maybe he would ask if you wanted a Japanese Traditional Wedding, that would feel so perfect. But then again as he saw you walking down the aisle, he didn't care what kind of wedding, who were all the guests, or where the two of you shared the vow—as long as it was you, then he could call it perfect.

He sat beside his grandmother who always had a smile on her face. It pained him, as he remembered how she said she looked forward to his wedding already; worse because she had been wanting it since he was still a high schooler.

But then again, he didn't know if he wanted to have a wedding anymore. For whom the only person who he wanted to have their hand on marriage with, was now standing in front of him, with his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

He couldn't hear any of the words that spilled from the marriage officiant as it sounded like a murmur. When happiness was supposed to fill the entire space, he felt like all of his senses were being taken away from him.

But when your lips parted to shared the vow that you had prepared, when your ring finger now adorned with the delicate platinum band, he could feel his heart beats a thousand times faster,

"Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

His lips were dry by now, sweats trickling down his back even though the temperature was low. He wanted to stand up, to speak, to let out the words that were left unsaid before.

But then a gentle, wrinkled palm rested on top of his hand, and the gesture was enough to make him calm down in an instance.

He looked down towards his grandmother. A reassurance smile emerged on her face, as if after all this time, she knew what exactly battling inside his soul. It would be alright, Shin. Her soft voice could be heard, even if she never actually parted her lips.

It would be alright. Maybe someday, it would be alright for him.

After hours his lips only shaped into a thin line, now he could finally have the power to change it into a smile. With a little nod that he gave towards the figure who knew him like the back of her hand, he looked back towards you.

Your gaze met his, for a split second he knew you were saying one last farewell. And unlike that one time he first saw you with your perfect man, it was now real. Today, this second, it would be the last time you gave him a gaze filled with love.

"Maybe in another life." "Another lifetime."

And in this exact moment as you shared a kiss with the man that always had his eyes on you, the one man that somehow he knew would be the person you spend forever with. He promised that in another lifetime, when the two of you crosspath once again—

He would turned back towards your direction and chase you,

The storm that he wished he never ran away from.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

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#kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #haikyuu #kita shinsuke imagine #kita shinsuke scenario #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke angst #shinsuke kita #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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sleekervae · 3 years

Text

The Neighbour [2.1]

Masterlist

A/N: OH MY GOD I LIVE!!!! Also, spoiler ahead for The Bastards graphic novel; not so much plot-wise but there are a few lines from the book. Indented paragraph is credited to Emerson Barrett and XoBillie.

“I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me,

Giddy, mischievous, not ever looking for trouble yet somehow

Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

Remington stared wistfully at the view from Eva’s balcony, knowing how self-conscious she was when he watched her as she read a piece. In his lap sat Pluto, satisfied to have his ears stroked while he took his afternoon nap.

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Remington found he was always transported to a new dimension when he heard Eva’s poetry. It was so soft and delicate, he could appreciate it the same way one does the petals of the first flowers of spring. Everything about her writing was so soothing, now a familiar notion that he never wanted to let go of.

“You’ve ignited a fire in my belly with embers sparking and popping

Under the intense pressure of your dark eyes

And the bubbling pearls of your laugh.

I loved you when I first ran into your open arms and marvelled

“My God, you feel just like home”

And with a few simple touches the open sores on my skin

Recede and heal, and their pain is a faint memory in comparison

To the electricity your fingertips carry.

I loved you when we were flying over the streets,

Vibrant yellow, orange and purple coating my eyes and

Painting you into Monet’s Twilight, Venice.

You’re a renaissance masterpiece that has been imprinted

Into the soft folds of my brain...”

Eva set her book down having finished the incomplete piece, watching her boyfriend with a dazed smile on his face as the echo of her prose sunk in. She simpered to herself with giddy.

“You know, I always have mixed feelings about reading you my poetry,” she said.

“Why’s that?” Remington asked, “It’s very good,”

“I know that. And you know that,” she smirked, “And I know that you know that I’m low-key inflating your ego with this shit,”

Remington chuckled, reaching out across the small table to take her smaller hand in his, “Would it put you at ease if I told you my ego is too far gone?”

Eva rolled her eyes and snapped her notebook shut, “Maybe I should start writing poems about the things you do I find annoying?”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Remington shrugged, giddy when she shook her head in dismay at his teasing.

Pluto continued to lie motionless in Remington’s lap, assuming the sphinx position as he had his ears rubbed. However, the tabby’s eyes sprung open when a guttural vibration shook through the small wooden table, disturbing the peaceful afternoon.

Eva glanced at the familiar glare of ‘Blocked Caller ID’ appearing, refraining from showing little disdain as she declined the call. Remington however was curious; for the past few months he’d seen Eva decline calls like that over and over again. The first few times he figured it was telemarketers, or scam calls. However, he noticed how they came frequently in the weeks; more prominent on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “It’s blocked for a reason,”

“But if you blocked the caller... then you have to know who it is so you could block them,” he reasoned, “Right?”

Eva responded in silence, taking her phone and quickly tucking it beneath her thigh. Remington stared at her pointedly.

“Eva, you get these calls nearly every day,” he said, “If it’s something bad... you know you can trust me with anything,”

“I know...” Eva nodded slowly, exhaling, “It’s my mom,”

Eva had been exceptionally non-forth coming when it came to her life back in Seattle, only remembering hearing about her friends and family once or twice. He respected her privacy, though he couldn’t help but be a tad curious. She fit the overall profile as someone who was running away from her problems.

“You blocked your mom?” he asked, somewhat in disbelief though from what he understood of their relationship he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eva nodded, “Yep. Either she can’t take a hint or she’s way more stubborn than I am,”

Remington looked across the street to his own house, the gentle breeze billowing through the sheer curtain in the living room he remembered his mom helping him and Emerson pick out.

“Why don’t you speak to her?”

“Why don’t you speak to your dad?”

“I told you already,”

Pluto then leapt off of Remington’s lap and landed on the table, crossing over to his owner and staring at her with his big, soulful eyes. Eva smiled and gently scratched his ears.

“She showed up to my graduation, which would have been fine... but she showed up with her new husband and a kid,” she admitted.

Remington raised his eyebrows, “Her own kid?”

“Yeah. She got married to her co-pilot and they have a ten-year-old son together. She abandoned our family and started a new one,” Eva shook her head, “I guess being married to a chem teacher wasn’t as exciting for her,”

“What did your dad do?” he asked.

“That’s the best part. He knew about it and chose not to tell me. I just couldn’t believe it,” she replied, “But the fact that she just... she disappeared for years and then showed up again with a new family -- at my college graduation! How could I possibly celebrate after seeing that?”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” he asked tentatively.

“No. The way I saw it, she walked out of my life with no qualms. So... I walked out of hers. And it doesn’t matter how much she phones me; I don’t have time for disingenuine people,”

Remington reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table, stroking gently over the bumps of her knuckles, “Did you... did you meet her son?”

It was then Eva looked truly bummed out, “I think that’s the part I regret most. I mean -- he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his mom is a flake,”

Remington nodded, “Do you still love your mom?”

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “Call me a coward, but avoidance is just easier to deal with,”

“You’re not a coward,” Remington assured, “I get it. But... speaking from experience, you can only avoid your issues for so long. As hard as it may be, you might want to address these problems sooner rather than later. I promise you won’t regret it,”

“Rem --”

“She’s your mom. And obviously the fact that she’s still blowing up your phone should tell you something,”

Eva sat quietly, letting his words sink in. She knew Remington was right; knowing what she knew about him she also knew that he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. She appreciated that he understood where she was coming from, she just wished that his solution could be as easy as it sounded.

“I will call her back... eventually. My dad wants me to come home for Christmas, I guess I have to,” she chuckled sheepishly, warranting a sympathetic smile on his part, “Just... not today,”

“That’s okay,” Remington said, gently squeezing her hand, “It’s all gonna’ work out, Eva,”

“You can’t promise that,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, “Let’s not call it a promise, then. Let’s call is a whim,”

July had faded into August, as did pandemic fatigue. The streets were becoming busier, the business’ were seeing more intake in revenue, and people were slowly coming back out to try and enjoy was little of a summer was left.

And while most people were doing their best to social distance and keep safe, the cases continued to grow. Safe in the confines of the house, Eva sat at the table and read over the final print draft of the band’s graphic novel. Eva was blown away, completely immersed from the plot line to the artwork. She was supposed to be working with Emerson on his latest project, yet afforded herself a small break.

Across from her, Emerson was reading through Eva’s Tumblr blog, blown away at the amount of work she had posted since mid-June. Every prose and line was so vivid, painting a clear picture of her emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable, knowing the sensual poems he was reading was about his older brother. On the other hand, everything was so poised and punctual -- he figured he may borrow some stuff to try on Shy some time.

Eva turned to a new page littered with more text than it was visuals, but on the edge of the left page was a stunning, very accurate sketch of Remington. His hair looked so different in the form of a basic sketch, yet those eyes, that face still captured all the majesty and curiosity within. She was unable to help that her fingers glossed over the lines that made up his torso with all his tattoos visible, tracing down the length of his arm to the vanity beside him and back up again. The cold paper singed her fingertips as she read the prose beside the sketch, a small smile creeping onto her lips with every word that echoed in her brain.

“...Emerson thought that if hell and heaven had a bastard son, that it would be Remington. His brother had an angelic-looking face with big almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were brown but could shift into black, and melt into the iris. It was a look that Emerson though the angel of hell would be proud of. But then, in the right light, those dark eyes changed and came to glimmer like the purest of gold - a look angels would swarm for. Apart from the eyes, his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him...”

Eva had to give credit to Emerson for his writing, capturing his brother in such a way that she herself would have. And like the flip of a switch, the memory of Remington’s eyes flashed through her mind, shining of gold and beauty the way the words had echoed to her.

In another blink his eyes turned into the eerie shadow of black, flashing a look he’d throw her way when his lust for her consumed him. In one paragraph, Remington had been portrayed as a killer from hell, offering flowers to his peers instead of knives.

Though, all romanticism was put aside as Eva read the paragraph again, noting the last line she had skimmed over quickly:

“...his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him. The rest of him was not...”

There as no denying how cruel the world had been to Remington and his brothers, though the more she pondered the more she realized she had never seen the type of dejection in his face the way Emerson had described. He always appeared -- not happy, per say -- but content with his life.

Emerson looked up from his tablet, noticing the way Eva’s eyes were glued to her own reading, her hand placed protectively over the sketch of Remington.

“You okay, Eva?” he asked.

She glanced at the youngest brother, shaken by the break in silence. But she smiled reassuringly and flipped the page, despite not having finished reading the last.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “It’s absolutely beautiful. I did make note of a couple grammatical errors... I hope you don’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, “Deadline for rewrites is on Friday,”

“If you'd like, I could go through the rest for you. I’m in between articles right now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Promise I won’t post spoilers for fans,”

“Might have to get you an NDA,” he giggled merrily, “I’ll send the file over. You ever work with InDesign?”

“A few times, yeah...” she trailed off, a new train of thought lingering in the back of her mind, “Emerson... can I ask you something sorta’ personal?”

Emerson raised an eyebrow, “How personal?” he asked.

She breathed out carefully, “Remington had told me about your dad --”

“What did he say?” Emerson asked quickly, his cheerful demeanour quickly souring.

“Just that he hadn’t been in the picture for a while,” she said assuringly, “Nothing else,”

Emerson began to relax a little, “Okay. What’s your question, Eva?”

“Say he out of the blue started making an effort to get back in touch with you... would you take that offer?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “Because if he wanted back in our lives, it would be for his own gain,”

Eva stayed silent, his quick answer all she needed to know that she shouldn’t push the envelope. Emerson saw the fall in her face, feeling a tad bad for being so short with Eva.

“Sorry...” he grimaced, “I just... I don’t like to talk about my dad,”

“I understand,” Eva nodded, “I’m sorry I brought it up,”

“... Why did you?” Emerson asked curiously.

Eva exhaled, her fingers picking at the edge of the glossy page, “Just getting room different perspectives. My mom and I don’t exactly have a Gilmore Girls kind of relationship. I’ve just been thinking ‘cause she’s been trying to get a hold of me for so long,”

“Was she nice to you? When you were younger?” he asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Eva replied truthfully, “She was -- superficial. There but not really there,”

He cocked his head, his wispy black hair falling over his eyes, “So... you’re trying to figure out if you want a relationship with your mom?”

Before she could reply, they both turned when they heard footsteps echoing in the hall towards them. Michael had appeared, panning his camera around for new footage for the band’s Youtube channel. Eva was unsure whether she pay attention or turn back to the book and pretend not to see.

“What’re you two working on?” he asked, focusing the lens on Emerson so Eva was just out of the shot. Michael respected that Eva was a touch camera shy.

“Top secret,” Emerson replied promptly, “And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,”

“I won’t unleash that wrath,” Michael chuckled, “Don’t have too much fun!”

“We’ll try,” Emerson muttered as he sauntered into the next room.

Eva closed the book and pushed it aside, sighing to herself as she pulled back her laptop and opened Emerson’s project. The youngest brother watched her unabashedly, picking off the air of uncertainty swirling around her.

“Does Remington know your mom keeps calling you?” he asked.

“He was kind of curious as to why I kept getting all these blocked calls,” she replied.

“What did he say?”

“That everything was going to be okay,” she nodded slowly, “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life and... it’s not. So, I’m super inclined to believe him,”

Emerson swallowed, “My brother has a tendency to want to take care of everybody. And it’s not a bad quality. But he also doesn’t know how he can make it better,” he said.

“It’s not up to him to make it better,” Eva declared.

“But he loves you,” Emerson stated, “And just because of that, he’ll want to help you find your way out of this. When Remington commits to someone, he tends to go one-hundred-percent all in,”

Eva simpered to herself, “I appreciate him. He’s -- definitely been a plot twist,”

“Good or bad plot twist?”

“Very good,”

Emerson smiled as she started to type on her keyboard, some of Eva’s vexations visibly released when the topic had changed to Remington. As she appreciated Remington, Emerson appreciated Eva for all that she’d done for him. He had this gut intuition, a simmering notion that Eva was going to be sticking around for a long time. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

“Can I ask you a serious question, though?” he asked.

“Of course,” Eva nodded.

“Do you like his blue hair...?” he asked with a drawling disdain.

The young brunette turned her head in the direction of the distant chatter of the boys.

“I take it by your tone you’re not a fan,” she said.

Emerson scoffed, “He’s taking me back to the Kool-Aid dye trend,”

“Oh, Emerson,”

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