#babygirl cries in this... heartbreaking but had to happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 1 year

Text

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.

But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.

Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.

It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.

So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.

He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.

Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.

“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”

The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.

“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”

Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.

“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”

Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.

“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”

He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.

If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought.

You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.

He lets you pull him to his feet.

One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.

They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.

Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.

It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”

I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.

There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.

He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.

The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?

But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.

The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.

Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.

Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.

Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.

But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.

It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.

But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.

Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt.

The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.

“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.

“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?”

Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.

“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.

He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.

You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.

Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.

More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.

But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.

You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.

It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.

But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.

He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.

It doesn’t stop him from loving you.

Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.

“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”

Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”

This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.

The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.

When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.

You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.

“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.

He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it.

“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.

“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.

Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”

What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.

The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”

He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.

“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength.

You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.

But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone.

“Steve, you’re not okay.”

“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.

“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”

“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”

His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.

A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain.

“Steve.”

“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.

“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”

You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.

Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.

“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.

How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly.

“Can you just...let me take care of you?”

It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?

Silence stains the air.

“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

Another beat of quiet.

“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.

Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.

It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.

As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.

Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.

When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.

If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.

Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.

You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.

Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.

“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”

It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.

It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.

For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.

He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.

The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.

You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.

Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.

Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.

Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.

A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.

He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side.

He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.

But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.

The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.

You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.

“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.

You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.

You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?

Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”

He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”

“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.

“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.

“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.

“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”

He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves.

Oh.

Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.

His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.

The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.

Steve Harrington is lonely.

When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.

His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.

“Why did this happen to me?”

It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.

“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“

“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”

“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show.

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

Something twists painfully in your stomach.

“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.

The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“

You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.

Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.

It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.

“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.

“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.

Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.

“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”

His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.

“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.

You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.

Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”

You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies.

“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.

He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.

Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.

“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.

Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.

Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that.

You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.

The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.

You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.

He does.

You stop moving.

His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.

You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.

Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.

“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.

His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.

Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.

You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.

You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”

There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.

His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.

The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.

You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.

“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”

You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.

“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.

Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.

That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.

Nancy had given him the thump of his head.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”

And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.

Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.

He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.

When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.

But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.

Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.

There are no nightmares that night.

—

tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3

#if anyone talks to me about tenses i'll come out SWINGING #not even grammarly could help me w that <3 #hopefully HOPEFULLY this is considered in character steve #in any case i spent a wee while puzzling interactions & reactions so at least u know i tried !#its hard to pick a relationship dynamic that would work for him being surprised ur here??? while also getting a lil confession in there #i think its cute #maybeeeee lemme know what u think? hehe #anyways steve HONEY u deserve to have someone kiss all the wounds #and let u sob in their arms and yanno i VOLUNTEER #GIVE HIM TO ME AND ILL TREAT HIM RIGHT!!!#babygirl cries in this... heartbreaking but had to happen #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #wahoo #i cannot help but post fics the moment they are finished #idc if its like thursday for all u fuckers #come get ur hurt/comfort nowwww

4K notes · View notes

cillianhead · 6 months

Note

Hey hey, I just found your blog and I really like your writing - especially Sitting Pretty since I'm a sucker for those Crane fics. :3

Would you maybe be up for some kind of comfort/fluff fic with Crane?

I am always up for some comfort/fluff when it comes to Dr Jonathan Crane. He's so babygirl <3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.... thank you so much for your request!

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby || Jonathan Crane x Reader

warnings: none really, some brief mentions of violence, crying, angsty but also fluffy and comforting at the end, not really anything that bad to be honest, sort of non-canonical to anything that actually happened in the films.

It had been around a week since you had seen your boyfriend of three years. This was the longest you had gone without seeing Jonathan, without even hearing a peep from him. You even went to his work, he hadn't been there either. You knew what sort of dangerous work he did outside of Arkham and also within it, you knew the dangers and the risks he faced every time he left your apartment. You were still hopelessly devoted to him, despite the bad things that he has done and continues to do. You knew he would never hurt you. Him being gone felt like someone had ripped your heart out... like your soul was slowly being eaten away. Where was he? Was he even still alive? No. You mustn't think like that.

It was only a week, maybe he just needed some time away. Though he would've at least taken time off work, surely? His work told you he hadn't called in sick but he was supposed to be there. But he wasn't.

You hadn't cried. You found yourself growing more and more numb to the absence of Jonathan. It was like your body trying to reject a foreign object, trying to spit him out of your heart. It was painful and agonizingly slow, you knew you could never get over him, especially if you never got to say goodbye. His things lying around your apartment were a painful reminder of the fact he was gone. And he probably was never coming back.

You hadn't slept, at least not very well, in four days. You'd barely been eating either, maybe a stale cracker or two every now and then but you couldn't bring yourself to eat any proper meals. The best you could do was stare at the tiled wall as you stood in the scalding hot shower, trying to burn away the grief.

With the growing hunger and the fact you barely slept, paranoia was also sprouting within you, like some sort of sickly weed. You were worried that if Jonathan had been captured, whatever got him, was coming for you next. Every tiny little noise, every rumble, or car horn outside sent you running to the comfort of your shared bed. The one that smelt like him. You really couldn't sleep. Every shadow looked like some sort of evil horned figure ready to devour you whole, your eyes wide and frozen, helplessly full of fear. You thought about how Jonathan would assess this situation, how nerdy he got when you were afraid, in its own way you found it comforting the way he explained the body's reaction to fear and the way he explained the mind's power over the body.

The sleep you did get would be full of nightmares or vividly heartbreaking dreams. There was one you couldn't get over, a dream so sweet, more like a memory than anything else. Jonathan coming home from work, taking off his clothes and crawling into bed with you. His hands caressed your back softly, arms cradling you like you could shatter at any moment if he held you too tight. It felt so painfully real, that even when you began to wake up you could still feel him there. Still feeling his arms around you.

"Jonathan..." You whispered a sigh of relief, his arms pulled away from you as your heart raced with joy. Sitting up and looking around to find yourself just as alone as you had been for the past week. That's when you began to cry. "Jonathan..." You sobbed into your hands, you couldn't fall asleep after that. It was four in the morning, and the room was pretty much pitch black as you cried to yourself like a baby needing its mother.

Even more time passed. You were hysterical, you didn't pick up your phone when your friends called, you didn't leave the house, you didn't eat, and you most definitely didn't sleep. You were in bad shape, to say the least. It was that time of the year when the rain began to pour, your glass walls showed the bruised sky and the lightning it unleashed upon Gotham. You didn't work, Jonathan insisted on you staying at home, for him to provide for you. You were pretty happy staying at home and doing as you pleased. But now... it felt so different, there was no one to come home to you. You were pretty certain that the love of your life had died and you were going to spend the rest of your time alone. You knew you could never love again.

As if the sky knew how you felt, it only rained harder, it rained for days and it never stopped. You sat on the couch with a blanket draped over you as you lifelessly stared out at the dark sky. It was the middle of the night, and you thought about sweet nothings you and Jonathan shared. You thought about how lucky you were to see that side of him, so lucky you weren't on the other end, seeing the scarecrow, full of fear toxin. You thought about Jonathan humming while he made you pancakes, thought about the way he wrote you love letters almost every morning before he left for work, thought about the way you both were ready to get married soon. You remembered him holding your stomach while you brushed your teeth before bed and saying in that beautiful voice of his; "One day, you and I, are gonna have a bunch of beautiful babies and we'll live far far away from here. Everything will be perfect."

You sobbed and nothing brought you out of it. The pain in your chest was unbearable, no stupid fucking sad song or badly written poem could ever express it. There was no comprehensible word in any language that could truly explain away the agony you were in. You were no longer paranoid that something was going to come and hurt you, in fact, if there was someone or something out there coming to get you, you'd happily let it come in and put you out of your goddamn misery.

It was two soft raps on your bedroom window from the fire escape that caught your attention. You froze and stopped your crying, listening for it again, wondering if maybe you were just hearing things.

It's when you hear them again that you manage to stand up on shaky legs and wander into your bedroom that you see a shadow, leaning its weight against the window tiredly. It was him. With all the energy you could muster up, you ran to the window and slid it open before grabbing ahold of him and pulling him into your bedroom. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack.

"Y/N," Jonathan whispered. You didn't say a word, just turned on the lamp to light up the room. If this was a dream, you were going to try and enjoy every second of it. If this was the only way you could see your Jonny then you would take in every moment. "I... I missed you." And when you turned around, ready to scold him, ready to scream your lungs out at him for being gone, your heart broke all over again. His clothes were torn and covered in dried-up blood. Jonathan's neck was covered in bruises in the shape of handprints and his eyes were tired and void of any life. "Jonathan..." You whimpered, approaching him, he winced a bit as you placed your hands softly on his face. "Where have you been? What happened to you?" You were going to be angry at him before but now you understood... it wasn't his fault. He was soaking wet and you could see he had been crying too.

"I... I can't... really remember... I was drugged..." He mumbled, Jonathan's fingers curled around your waist and pulled you into a bone-crunching hug. He breathed you in, embracing you again was the only medicine he needed. Holding you was the only thing that could tell him was truly okay. "The Batman got me... I don't know how I managed to escape... just ended up here... I've been walking for days."

"Jonny..." You were crying as you sat him gently down on the bed. "I thought you..." You whispered. The strength was not in you to say it. "I thought you were..."

"Dead?" Jonathan croaked out, his voice was hoarse in a way that told you he had spent days on end screaming, from the torture he had been put through. "Yeah, me too." He said dryly.

You helped him undress. The clothes were pretty much useless so you tossed them on the floor in a pile to throw away later. "Let me clean you up..."

"No." He said. "Not right now..." Jonathan shook his head as he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest as you laid down in the bed with him again. "I just need to feel you..." His voice broke and in the process, your heart broke too. You could hear how defeated he was. "Need to feel you there." You understood, not saying another word as you clung to him. You listened to the sound of his heart, ear pressed right against his bare and bruised chest. You heard him sniffle, immediately causing you to pull away. "Oh, baby..." You cooed sadly, brushing a tear off his wounded cheek. The dam gates were open now as he began to cry, wincing at the salty tears mixing in with his busted face. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry that happened to you... I was so worried... you're here now... you're here with me... my baby."

"I thought about you every second," He sobbed. Jonathan looked like a helpless little child at that moment, his blue eyes were pitiful. "I thought I was going to die... thought I was never gonna get the chance to say goodbye to you..."

Together you sat crying, both with relief and sorrow as the rain poured outside, the heaven's crying with you. Everything felt okay again, for the both of you, now that you were with one another. "It's okay, Jonny." You tried to console him. Things had happened to him before, he'd been beaten up or caught in dangerous situations but he usually came home shrugging it off, this time you could tell he was severely traumatized, you could tell this was going to take a while for him to get over. Jonathan had that thousand-yard stare, that mischievous fire that usually lit up his eyes had been extinguished and now reflected the dreary weather outside. "I love you, baby, it's okay... nothing's ever going to hurt you again." You whispered, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him as gently as you could, knowing his lip was swollen and split open, you could taste the metallic blood from his mouth and the saltiness of his tears.

"Y/N..." Jonathan wept, his face now buried in between your neck and your jaw. "It hurts." The tone of his voice was the most heart-shattering thing you'd ever heard.

"I know, my baby," You hushed as you laid back down again, caressing his hair that was still wet from the rain. "Nothing will ever hurt you again." You reassured once again. "Nothing's going to take you from my side."

You cried your own tears of sadness, relieved he was back in your arms, relieved that you were there to take care of him and nurse him back to health. The morning sun had begun to rise by the time you two had properly nestled into your bed, skin pressed together, legs intertwined. Jonathan slept in your arms, you held him like a baby, you couldn't sleep, too happy to have him in your arms again.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine..." You whispered softly into his hair.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #batman #batman begins #batman dark knight #batman the dark knight #the dark knight rises #the dark knight trilogy #christopher nolan #christian bale

415 notes · View notes

ziipzeepzop-eez · 3 months

Note

Greetings, i hope you're doing good🤍

Can i please request ROTTMNT brothers with their little sister?

Type: hc, platonic, hurt/comfort.

Scenario: it's about little sister reader who had been in a relationship - since she's the same age as Mikey - but she got cheated on and dumped so once her family knows - *cough* thanks to Donnie and his trackers *cough* - they go get revenge for their heart broken little sister.

(If it's okay with you can you add future Leonardo acting like the oldest brother/father to reader? It's okay if you don't want to, no pressure)

❝ home is where your heart is. ❞

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ − ⌗ 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢��𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❝l 𝓪/𝓷: the wayyyyyy, i actually feel kinda baddddddd, for the fool that had the audacity. to even consider - much less f o l l o w through, with cheating on THE. ✋ Hamato [Name] ................. *crickets chirping* .... nah, no i don't. HAHAHAAA (also i am so so sorry this is so late- you sent this in to me LAST YEAR....... 😀............. *runs off bawling*)

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | aiight. to summy this entire shindig up: i feel sorry for the sucka that did you so wrong. because lemme tell you right now babygirl lah– you. you? you, are the most estimable treasure. the cherished jewel of the Hamato Clan. whoever this joker is, just know, they fumbled the bag DEVASTATINGLY HEAVY. oh, the agony is unimaginable. unimaginable, i say!

kinda like . . . how you felt that day.

numb,

yet every nerve ending felt like it'd been cauterized – an open wound burned closed.

the same way you'd burned your heart shut, sloppily, hurriedly, with the same grace as you'd gathered your dignity as soon as you laid eyes on your once-beloved,

. . . and their new one.

THAT DAY you come home from up top, eyes red and puffy, heartbreaking whimpers streaming from your lips as you stumbled through the main entrance. –where had your heart gone?

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | in my professional opinion (*mocking hyena laughter echoing through the trenches*) : emotional pain, is unarguably, the worst kind of pain one can go through.

by fate, by coincidence, by the supreme pizza maker in the sky − all of your siblings were joined together in the main living room the moment you came home.

it'd be later on that you'd find out that each one of their sibling senses were tingling. it's exactly why they all coincidentally commence a living room rendezvous – which in of itself wasn't odd! it just became a tragic thing very quickly.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or even more devastated.

i concur you'd decide on a secret third thing −

when the previous relaxed vibe was wiped clean as soon as you'd stepped in and everyone caught wind of your devastation immediately, leaving a cold backwash of worry and alarm.

mikey was the first to reach you. when quickly followed by the other three, voices overlapping, all in varying tones but all uniform in inquiring 'are you okay?' . . . well. *blows heavy breath* you couldn't help the utter anguish that crashed into you in a relentless wave. being in a familiar and safe environment allowed your mind to slow down to a coherent level, and therefore allow what you witnessed to really sink in . . . you collapsed. metaphorically and physically.

"hermana? n/n, hermana, hey- hey hey- shhhh, what happened, what happened—?" leo, for all the panic that was pumping through his bloodstream, tried his best to comfort you: his foremost reaction to when you were in pain or discomfort of any kind. raph was a mess above all three of you; having previously been checking for wounds of any kind, he cringed back instantly when your cries only got louder. for a split second he was horrified he had hurt you, but a once-over showed that it . . . blessedly wasn't that? then- what . . .? donnie hovered nervously, eyes wide and shiny but even then, his hands were outstretched to you. reactive instinct. like he wanted to pull you - his only little sister - into a hug of sorts, but didn't know if it'd be received. –yet you clung to mikey with all you could hold yourself up to right then. even though he himself had no clue what was going on, he held you close and tight, tears of his own burning behind his eyes at the sight and sound of your wailing. "[n-name]? sisi, what–?" "t-they broke up with me," you bawled, your own words folding you over in despair once more. the room instantly got colder. no voices besides your own were heard. "they, th-they dumped me," you gasped, choking with hiccups, "a-and they, th-they were w-with someone e-helse! an- another per, hhu, person!"

seeing you in the aftermath of such an affair nearly killed all of your siblings.

you were so devastated that it just, broke their hearts. almost as much as yours.

you weren't like yourself.

and sure, that's to be expected!

i mean, it was your first ever relationship − your first everythings concerning intimate romance.

(well, that can happen in one's teenagehood, more or less.)

and to have what you'd thought was a beautiful bond, just.. flushed down the drain? just like that?

tha shii hurteded mayn, ngl. 😔✊

justice for [name] hamato, seriously. tf is wrong with people and dumping one of a kind gems??

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | there are five stages of grief, even after a breakup. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance.

and though it's a messy, painful time for you – your family is there with you through it all.

mikey (bless him) is of course, the one who assists in you recognizing all these stages and is an immense aid for caring for your delicate emotional state.

also helps that he's practically your twin. i mean, c'mon: ever since you both were tots, you were inseparable.

dare you say he knows you better than you know yourself. and that'd go even without his impressive emotional depth.

"you're amazing." he whispers. under your shared blankets and the dead of night, in contrast to the cacophony of invasive voices in your mind, his voice connected to your conscience buried beneath the mental rubble and held taut like a string of fate. no, is what you want to say. but you don't. you can't. because deep down, you know your brother is right. that all of them are right. mikey sits up in your shared hammock, the one used for special occasions, and tugs you up with him. he presses his forehead to yours and it's no secret that his gaze is made of fire. but instead of burning right through you, leaving you to shrivel up and disintegrate, to wallow in the wake of its aftermath – it's warm. it's light. "say it." "'you're amazing,'" you drawl; it's the clearest you've spoken in days. your pseudo twin blinks, eyebrow ridges met to his invisible hairline. a moment passes. two. then mikey snorts, quickly followed by you, and before you know it you're both dissolving into a mushy pile of giggles and obnoxious snorts. it was gleeful and euphoric and by the end of it, mikey is clinging to you like a koala, overjoyed. and you let him. it felt heavenly to laugh like this again. to smile.

as for your other brothers,

i can imagine Leo dragging you into self-care sessions at random.

i would say nights but really, with you guys' schedule, it could be for any time at all aksjhhd. nights are generally reserved for patrols and on the town's !! self-care is all day, every day !!

painting your nails; smoothing a face mask with care from his esteemed varietal top-notch collection on you as well as himself; stashing up a whole bunch of snacks, pizza, candy and comics (he makes sure to get your go-to orders + whtv you may be craving in the moment); turning on some fairy lights and happily binges all your favorite movies/series with you.

he'd give you tight hugs & make a bunch of well-timed jokes to get you into a better mindset on your gloomier healing days — but he can be serious as well !!

and when that happens, it's usually accompanied by heartfelt words and him tucking you against his plastron, like he could shield you from all the monsters and bad, evil things of this world.

(he'd always damn sure try.)

for all of his annoyingness, you mean the world to him and if losers like your,

🤢 ex 🤮 can't see that—

🗣THAT'S THEIR EFFIN' PROBLEM. ALL THEIR LIFE. NOW ISN'T IT??🗣

ahh one way or another, your other two dumpling brothers get lumped into the soup of self-care too !!

they do it for you, [name]. even if they don't always really want to,

they do it for you. 😤

Raph is so sweet. as your eldest brother I feel like he'd feel somewhat responsible for your heartbreak, but you get reassured that it's not your fault, and you reassure him that it's not his either. (please be patient with his logic, he'll get there eventually 😮‍💨😅) and in the aftermath he's spoiling you absolutely rotten.

carrying you everywhere (if that's whatcha dig.) getting you whatever you want: snacks, food, books, stuffies . . . anything man, he's already got it. and he cuddles you at night, giving you gentle shell rubs and churring deep in his chest — it never fails to lull you to sleep. 🥹 worked then, works now.

Donnie is a constant presence. He's not good at this "emotional stuff", or so he claims, but Don's the one who you subconsciously think of for a gentle, solid place to just be safe and be. not for distractions and laughter like Leo, not for being overly coddled and doted on like Raph, but... to just. Exist.

To be grounded.

Brought back to a steady surface.

ironically, it's the most sorting out of your emotions that you do in Donnie's presence: the most emotionally constipated of all your siblings c:

& he gives surprisingly good advice when you ask for it!!

but here's the thing.

Donnie always believed nobody was (or ever will be) good enough for his little sister, and this just solidifies it.

"Trash, everywhere."

"Donnie please—"

so ya might want to either retreat to a different mindset when this comes about or just don't take it to heart. there are wonderful suitors out there !! this one was just a bad rep. 🥹

(don't worry! dr. delicate touch elegantly exits stage left. don't mind the path of fire left in his wake! it's simply protocol. 😇)

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | you know the mainstream energy that all siblings carry? when they get annoyed with you but the second anybody else tries you — they're out for blood?

your

🤢 ex 🤮

never stood a chance.

donnie had it alllll handled that exact night.

he was slinking off and typing away furiously at his little tech-wrist, even as raph cradled you

even as leo quickly made up the bedroom with all the combined blankets and pillows and stuffies throughout the lair

even as mikey clung to you with big, watery eyes and tried his best in reassuring you (he might've been more devastated than you about the situation ngl ✋🏼)

and while donnie hovered, he was working.

y'all should know homeboy by now —

he is always working.

i imagine all of them would wait until you're sufficiently distracted, and that's where your sister and dad come in!

april taking you out for some one-on-one time, some fresh air, either to go for something fun around the city or back to her place for an evening in, (aaaand because your big sis needs to get her get back on your behalf too *slings bat across shoulders* —) quality time cuddles and movie night with papa splinter!! <;3 : your dad is good at damage control; you're his only daughter, of course he cherishes you. plus, he raised you alongside your brothers. your very rambunctious brothers. (/lh) all things considered, i think he's a wonderful parent where it counts. he was heartbroken for you that very same night. after all, you'd cried for him like a baby, hands reaching weakly while marble sized tears dribbled down your cheeks..... he hadn't seen such behavior since your tothood.💔,

but splinter is an accomplished man. he was much more in control of his emotions and therefore acted as an anchor of sorts to you in the moment you needed it most.

he was the one to calm your brothers down and gave them all one by one tasks as he cradled your body in his arms. no matter how old or big you'd get, you'd always have a place in your dad's loving embrace. and the night your brothers plan to make their move, which would probably be a day or so after you came home, the old man took up his role and fed you milk and cake while doting. giving you his undivided attention and care whilst he strokes your head and cheeks, reminding you of how precious you are to him —

"my precious [name]," splinter says lowly, cupping your face with his small hands. his eyes are grim, but they shine with fondness as they gaze into yours. "my jade. my little shining sky. you never cease to amaze me. life is a relentless ocean, and you will sometimes be swept away by the waves and crash against the shores . . ."

he takes your chin gently, stroking just so with his thumb. "but we will not let you drown. your strength and resilience is a true testament to how valuable of a being you are, my daughter. never forget that."

" . . . m'kay, papa." you croak. you bury your face into his chest, comforted by the warmth and softness of his fur. "alright. i promise."

meanwhile, snap clip to your siblings. blending in with the night as they move with deadly swiftness and silence, moving with intention. purpose.

whether you know what they're up to or not is entirely up to you

but i think they'd go that mile in ensuring you didn't know the mapped out details of what they were planning.

because — well, y'knaur,

they didn't hold back one bit. 🙂

whether your 🤢 ex 🤮 was a human, yo'kai, it don't MATTER.

"these hands rated e for everyone" 🗣️ — the mad dogz fr.

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | a detail I won't be letting anyone forget any time soon: you're all super powered genetically augmented mutants that were initially created for the sole purpose of war and worldwide domination.

you really think your

🤢 ex 🤮

— stood a chance?

nah fam....... nah.

I wanna say your siblings would be lenient, I really do (no tf I don't LMAOAOAOA-)

but realistically, I think they'd deal some heavy damage.

whether physically, emotionally, or mentally-

because you're their sister.

their baby. their princess.

and no matter how much they may lovingly tease you, and vice versa, they ain't about to let that ish slide.

the dealing of their cards is definitely not as worse as it could've been! but bad enough to not wish it on nobody else.

I mean you've got Dr. Delicate Touch, Raph in his big burly glory, and bro is Big Mad™, April is armed with her trusty bat and a Mayhem that's ready to be sicced, not to mention the deadly disaster twins —

they're all out for blood.

ohhohooooo man, they would render your

🤢 ex 🤮

into a pile of MUSH.

there are no remains. there is no recovery. the [name] hamato protection squad takes no prisoners. they kick names and take ass, even.

Dr. Delicate Touch had no preservations. (Ion even need to get into detail for that *shudders in fear*)

Donnie has the homewrecker's information, from birth to present day, down to the very microfibers of their genetic information to what they had for breakfast that morning - and he uses it to further inflict the irreversible damage that was started from Dr DT,

Leo can be, and was, terrifying. He's a broad two-edged sword that can slice through, clean and precise - so sharp you wouldn't feel a thing until he's done with his job of sawing you asunder, splitting through every atom with lethal precision.

and Raph definitely used his height and build to the highest advantage. He's got your 🤢 ex 🤮 cornered and trembling in their boots, tail between their legs (whether literally or figuratively that's up to you c:).

now legally, I cannot tell you what they did!! ,,,

but just know that they brought you to some serious justice.

"you so much as breathe their name again," they growl, "it'll be the last breath you ever take."

they wouldn't hold back their disgust. they probably make your 🤢 ex 🤮 (I will never get tired of typing that PLSSS) feel like a worthless pile of [redacted] from words alone.

and for good reason, tbh.

your 🤢 ex 🤮 had shared space and time with your family as well.

now - whether they were close with each other is ambiguous,

but realistically speaking: if they were your partner, I'd imagine they'd all at least be tolerant of one another to a certain degree.

because, well..... your siblings value your happiness.

even if you may or may not have had to scold them countless times for any odd behavior towards your now 🤢 ex 🤮, they left you both be.

......for the most part.

you'd think the shovel talk was enough!!

but after that encounter, they wouldn't give your ex a second thought.

they weren't worth the time, and you were an absolute enchantment. not even worth whatever your 🤢 ex 🤮 had going on.

they probably wish your 🤢 ex 🤮 "a happy life" to conclude the whole ordeal sksnsjdnk

oh I just know the sarcasm from the disaster twins was dripping with venom.

left boo boo kitty SHAKING FR 💥

but it simply cements the fact!!

your 🤢 ex 🤮 just wasn't the one.

when the wound of betrayal isn't as fresh, some time down the line, Leo would probably try to make you feel better by saying this is a "canon event" and essential to your "badass character development" 😭✋ (I can't stand him y'all plss-)

and even tho Raph cuffs his shoulfer for it, it really did make you feel better.

because, you know your worth.

you know you're a catch ✨👑💞 and if anyone can't see that,

then that's simply a personal problem of theirs.

YOU DESERVE BETTER QUEEN 👑💪❣️💅🏾 THEY AIN'T NOTHING.

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | bottom line, no matter what. your family has your back.

it didn't matter how much time it took, and how much time it will take:

they will always be there for you.

they're not perfect but they try the most!! 😭❤️

and in the times where your brothers act like.... well, brothers (/aff),

you've got a kick-ass sister to turn to.

and she's MORE than happy to lend a helping hand and back you up in the midst of tragedy 😉

and it's with them that you really do see the situation for what it is.

did it hurt? yes.

but that's the motions of life, babe.

and you WILL rise (see what I did there? AHA-) from this stronger.

not only because you're an absolute LEGEND.

..... but also, because your family is pretty great at reminding you of that too. 🥹

headers / dividers credits !! : @chachachannah @rookthornesartistry

subject to editing after posting for grammatical corrections and polishing! :)

sniper baby I'm so excited to finally have this out for you, I hope you liked it !!! muwah muwah ❣️ good things come to those who wait. 🫂 and boy oh boy have you WAITED AND MORE. XD

#zeepie beep : fandom! ⭒๋࣭ ⭑🖋˚𔓘｡#rottmnt x reader #platonic rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x sister reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #platonic x reader #x sister reader #⋮ fandom's humble offerings!! ✉⋆ ˚｡

121 notes · View notes

krikeymate · 11 months

Note

Adding to the idea of Tara snapping when she loses Sam and that little 'Oh baby girl what have you done' (which is heartbreaking by the way!) Imagine if it was like a Dewey or Kirby situation or something (More likely Kirby considering we thought she was gone for 11 years) where everyone thinks Sam is gone but she's not, she's just badly injured, in a coma or something (or Tara just didn't stick around to hear anything else, all she heard was no pulse and bolted) but Tara hasn't shown up to the hospital to see her and has shut everyone out because if it's not Sam, she doesn't want to speak to anyone.

All of these people are trying to contact her to let her know that Sam is okay but she's practically disappeared into her own little corner of the world away from anyone and anything that could remind her of Sam.

She snaps and thinks that if she turns around, it will be just like Amber. Someone who she wishes was there but is really just there to torment her on what she's lost.

But it's actually Sam. She's recovered (hardly, she just wouldn't listen to anyone who tries to stop her. No one has heard from her sister who thinks she's dead, she's finding her no matter how much pain she's in), and the first time she's able to see her sister after going through all of this, Tara has become everything that Sam was trying to protect her from.

I mean, I left that so ambiguous for a reason my friend, you beautiful person you, giving me exactly what I want. Everyone knows by now that my ideal Scream 7 is one where Tara thinks Sam is dead and loses it, right? Part 1.

The last time Tara saw Sam, someone was pulling her away from her sister, unknown arms wrapped around her waist as she fought back. She remembers the look Kirby gave her, kneeling by Sam's unmoving body, fingers to her neck. She'd pulled her hand away and done nothing and that was the last thing Tara would remember before she came back to herself, sitting alone in the dark, curled up in some alleyway, shivering from the cold. (She'd missed the paramedics rushing past her, missed Chad's attempt to comfort her as he led her out the building, missed the voices calling after her as she began to walk away.) There was a phone in her aching hand and it won't stop buzzing.

Chad sighed, dropping down into a seat beside his sister and running a hand through his hair. They shared a tired look, one that said 'have they found her?' 'no.' Tara's been missing for five days now, and everyone is getting desperate. She shouldn't be on her own right now, not with Sam in a hospital bed. Sam needs Tara, and Tara needs them. Not to mention there's still someone who wants to kill them on the loose.

"Shit, Chad, what are we gonna do?" Mindy asks. In Tara's absence, she's taken up residence at Sam's bedside, holding her hand so she knows she isn't alone, that there are people who need her to wake up. "What if... what if something's happened to her?" Mindy whispers. "Don't say that!" Chad replies, standing up from his chair to pace the room. He clenches his teeth, the pain of his bruised jaw a reminder of his failure. Tara's punch had taken him by surprise. It was his fault she got away. If he'd just... he should have held on tighter, he should never have let her go. "Tara will turn up," he eventually responds.

"Chad."

"She didn't disappear into thin air, she just needs some space, and when she's ready-" he turns around, freezing.

Sam is awake and glaring at him. "Where is my sister?"

"Oh babygirl, what have you done."

"Shut up," Tara cries, a bloody hand rising to grab at her hair. The pain helps, the sharp sting against her roots as she pulls helps ground her, helps her to stay in the moment and resist the grey buzzing in her head. She keeps losing time to it, she wakes up so confused. It's getting harder and harder to remember- to remember-.

Amber's dark eyes watch her and Tara feels like nothing more than prey to her hunter instinct. She smiles so sweetly at her, the way she does- did when she wants Tara to agree, to behave.

"You should let go," she coos, "it's ok, I'll protect you. It won't hurt anymore, you just have to let go now, sweetheart."

Tara's hand drops, slapping at the body between her knees. Maybe she should give in. She's so tired, and everything hurts.

A hand presses between her shoulder blades and it feels so real, Tara can't help but press back into it. Another cups her cheek, turning her head. In the distance she can hear Amber calling her name, demanding her attention. She sounds angry, but all Tara can focus on is this warmth on her face and the soft brown eyes looking down at her. They look sad. Amber never looks sad.

"Tara," this figure calls, and she sounds so familiar. Her voice cuts through the static in her brain, awareness creeping in. "I need you to come back to me babygirl, can you do that for me?" Tara feels the numbness in her skin, the way she's shivering from the cold. She feels the stickiness coating her hands. It's splattered across her face, her neck, her arms. The smell begins to sink in and her stomach begins to roil. She falls back, the realisation there's a body between her legs and what she's done strikes out at her like the arms that wrap around her from behind, pulling her away from it.

"There we go, I've got you, I've got you."

"This isn't- this isn't real, it can't be real, you're not- you're not- you're dead, you died, I saw you!" It can't be real, none of this can be real, but it feels so real. She's so warm.

"I'm real Tara, I'm here. I'm so sorry I scared you, but I'm here."

Understanding settles into her bones and it has her twisting in the grip holding her, spinning around to face- to face- "Sam?"

"I'm here. I'm here."

Tara falls into her arms and Sam holds her back tight. The pain from her wounds and pulling stitches is nothing compared to the knowledge of what Tara's done, of the way she looked through her, unseeing, of hearing her talking to someone Sam couldn't see.

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #scream concept #my writing tag #-after 6 #topic: trauma #love traumatising these girls!!!

50 notes · View notes

dhampiravidi · 9 months

Note

"I wish I could turn back time and fix everything, but I know it's too late for us." (Pogue and Jayn, just a lil heartbreaking au scenario <3)

Their first argument was over texting guys. Jayn knew how Kate had treated Pogue, so she knew what was going to happen when he asked about Stephen. Pogue had come to pick her up for a movie date, but he'd come 20 minutes earlier than planned. So, he overheard her talking to her friend when he came up the stairs. Jayn didn't even know Pogue was there because he hadn't texted. But she saw his face when she opened her door, thinking she'd meet him in the Danvers' front yard. Long story short, he was all butthurt and moody the rest of the day, even when she told him that she had been friends with guys since elementary school. Days later, she brought up the argument in front of their friends, saying that he was being dumb. Obviously, he was offended, and the two of them didn't speak up until Caleb reminded them that he, a guy, was Jayn's friend and that Pogue wasn't dumb to be suspicious, considering.

Their second argument started when Jayn realized that Pogue was keeping a secret from her. Days before their big fight, they'd been making out in her room, which was pretty common for them, given how physically affectionate they both tended to be. She'd slipped her hands underneath his shirt, trying to get it off, but he pinned her down instead, still kissing her neck. She giggled.

"POGUE--" Jayn cried, laugh turning into a moan as he kissed her neck. She carefully brought her thigh between his legs, knowing how he'd get impatient enough to try and ride her with his clothes on. He groaned and did as predicted. Fast-forward a minute or two, and he only had his shirt on. "I wanna see you--"

"No," Pogue said quickly. He tried to smirk, but she saw the lack of light in his eyes. "No, babygirl, you want me inside you, don't you?" She frowned, but it was really more of a pout.

"Something's wrong. I've seen you shirtless before. So...what's going on? Were you cursed or something?" She was being serious. If she came from a long lineage of different witches, there could be tons more out there. Pogue just huffed and started to get dressed. "Pogue?" He stayed quiet, standing to put on his shoes. "Pogue. Look at me, please--" She got up and went after him as he walked away. He opened the door, she closed it telekinetically.

"Open the door."

"No, talk to me."

"Open. The. Fucking. Door." His cold tone made her shiver, but she held her ground.

"No. Pogue, please--" She moved to take his hand and missed. He'd heard her coming and spun around, grabbing her wrist in his hand. Jayn always liked how strong, talented, and smooth his hands were, but that day she forgot about all that for a moment. He was breathing hard, squeezing her wrist so hard that..she thought he wanted to break it. "Stop, stop!" Her voice cracked, making his eyes widen. It was like he'd broken out of a trance, with how quickly genuine, deep sympathy turned his hazel eyes a puppy-dog brown color.

"I didn't mean t--" She just got under her covers and turned away from him, trying not to try. Did he do this to Kate? Do the guys know he gets like this? "Jaynie. Baby, I'm sorry."

She ended up telling Caleb what happened because he heard her crying through the shared wall of their rooms. It took him most of the day to figure it out. "Ask him if...if it's a bruise." He didn't say why. Jayn just wanted to know what would bother her boyfriend enough to keep him from having sex and to make him hurt her. So the next time she and Pogue were alone, she asked. He started crying right there in the middle of the park, and it was like he was drowning: he kept gasping for air, then choking, and the tears made his beautiful eyes look scared. She pulled him into a hug and didn't let go until he'd stopped sobbing.

The bruise was every color that skin shouldn't be, blotchy and sickly. It sat right on his ribs. And according to him, it was from his dad. Pogue explained that he came from conservative parents, who thought the magic inherited paternally was a blessing from Hell. His dad never Used, except for sometimes when he'd "discipline" Pogue and hit his wife. The guy was basically an asshole. It was so bad that Pogue used to teleport to Caleb's house on nights when his dad was in a bad mood.

So of course, Jayn went to Pogue's house. She quickly got into an argument with both of his parents, telling them that their son deserved better and that they were shitty people if they honestly thought it was okay to hurt him. Her anger made the lights flicker and the water sitting on the stove boiled. Mr. Parry tried to spit on her. She shoved him back with her Power, and the two had a fight that only ended once Pogue's mom called the police.

Pogue yelled at Jayn when he saw her standing in the jail cell, small cuts and bruises littering her body. "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?! What, were you gonna kill them? Fuck, Jay, this is why I didn't tell you--"

"Because you thought I'd be angry? Concerned?! HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU BEFORE WE EVEN MET!" she screamed back.

His parents forbade him from seeing her. She knew because they said it in front of her, right as they were leaving with him. And he didn't fight it. They saw each other when their friends all got together, and they saw each other's numbers in the group chat, but they didn't text. They didn't go on dates. They didn't even "officially" break up. They just stopped trying. She withdrew her application to Harvard, which would've let her finish her master's in Boston instead of in Los Angeles, where she'd started college prior to getting her magic. The last time she saw Pogue was when Chase tried to kill all of them. She'd been the one who destroyed the already half-dead guy, disintegrating him with a burst of white light when he sunk his nails into Pogue's back.

"I wish I could turn back time and fix everything, but I know it's too late for us." That was the second-to-last sentence of the voicemail he'd left her. Most of it was just platonic, sticking to basic things like "It was great to meet you" and "Have a great rest of the year". His voice was trembling the whole time, but he stayed calm. And then there was his wish. Pogue's voice cracked on the word "know". He used to tell her how much he loved hearing her rant and ramble, even though so many others had found her to be annoying. She never really understood when he talked about a camshaft vs. a crankshaft, and yet she always asked lots of questions about his day. "I love you, Jay, s-so m-much." He'd ended it there, not wanting to record himself crying.

"A, 1 through 60," the flight attendant called.

Jayn got in line, pulling her carry-on behind her. She kept straining her ears, hoping to hear fast footsteps, faint yelling, a "Wait!"--something. But her life was not a rom-com. She was not a princess in a fairy tale. And Pogue wasn't hers anymore.

#jkw: thread #in—somnium #hello angst my old friend #tw: domestic abuse #domestic abuse tw #tw: abuse #abuse tw

2 notes · View notes

l-r-christian · 3 years

Note

I have a really angsty request thats gonna hurt 😭 poly!Mikaelsons before they are dating, where their friendship started because they were trying to use the reader for something (maybe the stakes idk that part is up to you) but through the whole thing they started to actually fall in love, but the reader finds out they were using her (before them confessing their feelings) maybe end it in fluff and them finally confessing (ik I said fluff but if you think fluff doesn’t fit then u can change it)

Yooo we gonna be sad gals

Warnings: Angst, fluff at the end, protective Mikaelsons

Y/N felt like she was in a dream as she didn't know want she did to deserve four beautiful beings like the Mikaelsons to love her. Y/N had it rough as her adoptive father was asshole and her adoptive mother was verbally abusive, her friends was more worried about Elena than her. So to have not only one but four people to want her and that was way out of her league.

But want Y/N didn't know was that the Mikaelsons was using her to get all of the white oak until they found themselves falling hard for the girl. And it all came to light after a fight she had with Elena about her going to tell them how she felt for them.

"They are just using you! They don't really love you as they just wanted the white oak. No ones would want a fat useless wolf girl like you." Elena's words had cut the girl as she went and confronted them to find that Elena was right as she saw the white oak in the fire place.

"Baby.....it was all before.."

"Don't....I get it now." Y/N said tears falling from her eyes leaving not seeing the heartbreak on the siblings faces. Since that day Y/N had left town no one knew where she went as the siblings searched for her. The Mikaelsons had fell for the wolf while it had started to use her but they fell and fell hard as loving the wolf came to them easily but now she was gone and they wanted her back.

"Here is one black coffee Marcel." Y/N said with a cheery smile as the vampire smiled at her. Y/N had gone to New Orleans to get away from everyone back in Mystic Falls lucky she saved up money. When she first got to the city she met Marcel when he saved her from being bitten by a vampire and he looked after her.

"Thanks sweetheart. How are you? Diego said someone is bothering you."

"It...is fine. No need to do anything." Y/N said while Marcel was aware that Y/N was a werewolf. It was a surprise to him just how soft and gentle she was for a wolf never causing trouble and always turning far from town.

"Listen babygirl. If there is someone bothering my favorite wolf I want to know." Marcel said watching the young woman bite her bottom lip before sitting down.

"A few of the witches have been following me."

"I'll look into it babygirl don't worry." Marcel said getting up pressing a kiss on her head leaving the shop. Y/N finished up her shift seeing Thierry standing just outside making her worry and the vampire saw the worry on her face.

"The Originals are in town and Marcel doesn't trust them so I'm here to walk you home." Thierry said when Y/N frowned as it was a blur when Thrierry's neck was snapped and Elijah was standing in front of her.

"Really Niklaus?"

"We don't need him tell Marcel that we are talking to our little wolf." Klaus said as Y/N glared pushing past them both. Both men was quick to catch up to her and Klaus smirked.

"Here I thought you would be happy to see us."

"Well you are sorely mistaken." Y/N said rather coldly which surprised both of them. After leaving Mystic Falls Y/N cried over them then her sadness turned to anger that never went away.

"Listen what happened in......."

"Save it Elijah. I get it you four didn't really like me and was just using me to get the white oak."

"But we really....."

"What care? Yeah right, sorry if I don't believe you." Y/N said walking off and they both let her walk off and decided to watch over her from a distance. Two months of the four trying to get Y/N to forgive and to be with them while Marcel learned why the witches were following Y/N around.

"Pregnant? The witches think I am pregnant with Klaus's child?" Y/N said when Marcel had came into the coffee shop as she was happy that it was a slow day while Rebekah and Kol listened from a back table.

"That they do. So maybe find out if you are....I wasn't aware you two are......"

"We aren't. And if I am he won't be seeing my child." Y/N said coldly as Marcel watched her walk off wondering just what the Mikaelsons done to his little wolf. Y/N went to her doctor learning she was pregnant then made plans to not let the Mikaelsons know about the pregnancy.

"What do you two want?" Marcel asked seeing Elijah and Klaus walk into the Abattoir in a blur Klaus held him by his thoat holding him against a wall.

"Our little wolf where is she?"

"I have no idea where Hayley is....or did you mean Y/N? Here I thought that other wolf seen around you was your object of affection."

"Marcellus, tell us." Elijah said lowly when they heard her foot steps and they looked smiling as she glared.

"Wow not surprising that you both were going to hurt Mar to get your way." Y/N said ignoring how they both shamelessly raked their eyes over their love.

"Hey baby girl. Need something?" Marcel asked ignoring how both Originals glared at him as Y/N sighed.

"The witches are right."

"Oh....want to talk about it?" Marcel asked while Elijah and Klaus glared harder then stopped hearing a second heartbeat from Y/N.

"No. I'll let you finish up with them."

"Y/N is pregnant?!" Rebekah said surprised as Kol was equally upset like Elijah and Klaus that the idea their girl carrying another's child.

"From what I learned. Y/N is carrying Niklaus's child as the witches thought Hayley was the mother." Elijah said making them freeze and knew they needed to get Y/N under their protection.

"You are looking beautiful."

"What do you want Kol?" Y/N questioned glaring him as she worked cleaning off tables as Kol smiled.

"For you to forgive us as you are carrying Nik's baby. Let us protect you."

"No. I loved you four and you used me! And Klaus will never see my child!" Y/N said finishing up work leaving as Kol frowned before calling Rebekah.

"So you and Elijah?"

"I don't care Hayley. If you want to date the ass go ahead." Y/N tells the other wolf as Hayley smiled while Y/N looked at the book that Hayley brought her.

"This is a family tree. Most Alpha of a wolf pack has as one, this one is of the Crescent wolf pack."

"You know of the pack?" Hayley asked looking at the pregnant wolf.

"Yeah, it was my birth pack before given up for adoption." Y/N said pulling up her sleeve showing Hayley the Crescent mark on her wrist before continuing to telling Hayley about the wolf pack.

"Hayley seems to like you brother."

"I am aware Niklaus but much like you my heart belongs to Y/N." Elijah says as both were with Rebekah sitting in the coffee shop watching Y/N work and saw that she began to show a bit.

This went on for a month before Marcel got tired of it and had Davina trap Y/N with the siblings in the Abattoir to hash out their problems. So now Y/N sat pissed off arms crossed ignoring the Mikaelsons as Rebekah chewed on her bottom lip inching to touch Y/N's baby bump.

"Listen love yes at first we were using you. But we fell for you." Klaus said as Elijah stepped forward kneeling in front of Y/N getting her attention. Y/N saw the look of adoration and devotion in their eyes for her and it made her heart skip a beat.

"Baby, we fell for you and fell hard. And we were going to tell you the truth."

"Darling, we were heartbroken when you left and followed Hayley here to find you."

"Sweetheart, we are truly sorry and we understand if you don't forgive us but please don't take the child from us." Rebekah said sitting next to Y/N as the wolf looked at them seeing no lies but hurt broken vampires that loved a woman that they felt truly guilty for hurting.

"I forgive you. I missed you all." Y/N said tears falling down her cheeks as all four hugged her cuddling her. Y/N flushed burying her face in Kol's neck feeling them pressing closer as if to hide her away from the world promising to protect her from everything.

#L.R writes #mikaelson x reader #mikaelson family x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson imagine

436 notes · View notes

rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

He’s Home

Clay Spenser x Reader

A/N so I was going to use my wheel thingy to decide who to write this for but I thought I’d make up from the heartbreak I caused with my last Clay fic. This weeks fanfic Friday.

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

Waking up to an empty bed sucked, you could have sworn Clay got home in the middle of the night yet the bed was empty. Sleepily you rubbed your eyes with your fists before stretching out, feeling Clay’s side of the bed, it was cold, meaning you probably dreamt him getting home.

The house was quiet, which meant your Son must have slept through the night, finally. Just as you were about to roll out of bed you heard his cries coming through the baby monitor, followed by another voice.

“Hey buddy,” Clay said softly, “what’s all these screams about? We can’t have you waking mummy now.”

Laying back down a smile crept onto your face, your boy was home. You wasn’t dreaming, but your smile quickly disappeared, it was nearly 8am and you knew Clay didn’t get home till god knows what time but the bed was cold so you knew he had been up for a while, you just hoped he got some sleep on the plane home.

“Is somebody hungry?” Clay cooed, making you smile. “Come on then let’s go see is your moma is awake.”

A few moments later Clay walked into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face as he held his son against his skin, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his body, you couldn’t help it when all he was wearing was a pair of black boxers. But you didn’t miss the purple hue on his skin from the bruise of the mission.

“Morning,” you smiled, running your hand over your face.

“Morning babygirl,” Clay smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got a little monster that is hungry, and I couldn’t find the formula,” he laughed.

“Yeah I ran out last night,” you laughed, taking your son into your arms. “Good job we are still on the boob,” you smiled as your son latched on.

“God I will never get over the sight of you feeding our boy,” Clay grinned, kissing your head. “It’s just beautiful.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I got a few hours, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he winked, pushing himself to his feet. “I will be back in a minute.”

And with that he was out of the room, doing god knows what. But you knew not to question it. About 5 minutes later Clay walked back into the room with a tray in his hands.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Thought I’d make you breakfast,” he grinned, “okay so it’s just coffee and toast.”

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, taking his hand, kissing each of his knuckles, “just like you are.”

Once your Son had been fed, Clay took him back off you, holding him against his chest, getting that skin on skin contact he missed. You knew he always felt bad for being away so much and you knew that look on his face.

“Hey,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “Stop thinking them thoughts, you are a great daddy.”

“I just hate missing out on time with him,” Clay whispered, “he’s growing so fast.”

“I know baby, but you know he will see you as a hero as he gets older,” you whispered. “And you aren’t going to be like Ash, so please stop thinking that. You are ten times the man he is.”

“Why do you always know what the right thing to say is,” he smiled softly, leaning into your touch.

“Because I’m amazing,” you giggled.

“Damn right you are,” Clay smiled.

The rest of the morning was spent as a family, snuggled in bed, random cartoons playing on the TV, but you weren’t watching them, you were watching Clay sound asleep with your son on his chest. It didn’t matter what was happening outside of the house, all that mattered was that Clay was home again.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy

#Clay Spenser #fanficfriday #clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine

153 notes · View notes

gyll-yee-haw · 4 years

Text

Take care of you.

Prompt: it's your husband's first long travel since your wedding. You both just can't wait to see each other again.

Warnings: teasing, unprotected sex, breeding kink all over it, daddy kink, a bit of size kink maybe, 2 smuts in one, degradating and praising, multiple orgasms, overestimation.… I know, but its still fluffy, I swear

Fluffy warnings: Jake wearing THAT^ outfit. You washing his long hair. Like... him loving his wifey sm.... I'm unstable

Like 3k words.

---

You were living a never ending honeymoon. Even after you and Jake came back home from your official one, nothing changed. Still had that same sweet energy.

And that only made it even harder when he had to say goodbye. Yeah, it was only for a month, and he definitely had been away for longer periods of time, but right now… it was painful because you both had to admit to yourselves that your honeymoon was over and real life started.

You missed each other so badly. You cried on the phone more than once. But you knew he loved his job. And you loved to support him.

Felt like it took ages, but the day of his return finally came. You barely slept the night before it. You missed his sleepy voice in the morning. His jokes and his weird behavior, cause he just felt so comfortable around you. And you obviously missed the fact that everything always turned into sex these days. Wherever you looked at in that house, Jake had already fucked you there. Your heart craved his presence and your body craved his touch. You didn't even know which one was more urgent... all you knew was that it all together was making you desperate.

---

Jake felt the same way. He wanted to hug you and he wanted to shove his cock inside you so bad, all at once. He texted you from the taxi, saying he was 20 minutes away.

'I can't wait, tell the driver to hurry up, please.' You texted him back.

As a reply, all you got was a pic of the bulge in his pants. You shivered. You couldn't believe that would be inside you in a few minutes. You decided to tease him back:

'If you're already that hard, imagine how you'll feel when you see how fucking wet I am right now. So much, daddy… it's running down my thighs, I swear… need you here quickly, I promised you I wouldn't touch myself, but...'

He groaned frustratedly and decided to stay off his phone for now. You were already making him throb painfully, and he knew pretty well how wild the teasing could get between the two of you.

---

He planned on fucking you hard even before he opened the front door and found you in nothing but his shirt.

I said nothing.

You knew he was coming and there was no time to waste, so…

You ran towards the door for a hug that quickly became a messy kiss. His hands were everywhere, like he was trying to find out if you were real. The truth was that he just didn't know where to touch you first.

Jake pinned you against the wall and you grinded his thigh while he was unzipping his pants, whining loudly cause you were desperate like that.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you a little, so you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You pulled him as close as possible and all you felt was him. His warm embrace, his soft lips on your neck...

He held you against the wall with one hand while he grabbed his cock with the other

He shoved it at once inside you, groaning wild and loudly.

Your face couldn't hide the pain as he started thrusting mercilessly the second his was in.

"What is that, babygirl?" He cooed, and his sweet voice didn't match the eagerness of his hips. "Did you forget how it feels to have daddy inside you? Forget how big I am? Well, I'm back now, so I gotta stretch this tight little pussy open for me again."

You couldn't say anything, all you could do was take every single thing he gave you.

The way his body was pressed against yours made it impossible for him to avoid brushing your clit with his lower abdomen.

"Jake, I'm gonna cum." You told him desperately. You didn't want to do it so fast, but it was impossible to hold it at that point.

"Yes, pretty girl, as loud as you can, I missed hearing you crying out my name…"

Your fingers wrapped around his hair, that was a messy bun at this point, and you came, screaming his name, hoping it would make him cum too.

But not so soon.

Your orgasm only made him want you more. Only made him harder, if that was even possible.

And he didn't give you a second to recover, he kept fucking you like nothing happened, maybe even harder than before.

Your clit was hurting from overestimation, your hips bucked trying to escape the constant pressure, your legs were shaking so much around his body. It felt so good that you had to beg him to stop, you couldn't take all of it.

"Cum inside me, daddy, please, give me your… fuck." You felt the tears in the corner of your eyes as your second orgasm approached.

"My what? You weren't going to say cum, were you, princess?" He smirked. "You were gonna say babies, you want me to knock you the fuck up, huh?"

You weren't even sure what you wanted anymore, but you nodded, moaning loudly as he pounded you through your orgasm.

"I barely came home and you're already begging for my children again, you little slut." He mocked you, but you could tell he was getting close. His movements became messier.

And like he wasn't already absolutely abusing your clit and saying things that could make you cum untouched, he just started hitting that special place inside you that made you dumb for him.

He used all the strength he had left to thrust DEEP and HARD inside you one last time.

Maybe you came for the third time, but you weren't even sure anymore. All you knew was that it was lot.

It was so relieving when his hips stopped and you felt his warm seed filling you up. Fuck, there was SO MUCH of it, it had been so long… you didn't remember ever feeling that full before.

But when he was done, he cursed himself for not doing that in bed, cause he was exhausted on a level that he could barely stand. His legs were weak and he was still buried inside you, his arms on each side of your head on the wall, supporting his weight.

Fuck it, he knew there was no time to get in bed. His cock was too hard, his balls were too full and you looked too hot with his shirt barely hiding the fact that your pussy was free for him to use.

And you were absolutely wrecked. Your pussy was so sore that you were afraid to touch it, even to remove his cock from you.

Maybe it was the post orgasmic bliss, mixed with the feeling or being so close after being separated for so long… but the energy of that moment was unmatched. Unexplainable. You both were feeling that way, and somehow you knew it.

But after Jake caught his breath, he removed himself from you, helping you stand on your feet again, but he still kept one hand on the wall to support his own weight, just in case.

"Babe…" You laughed. "Look at how exhausted you are, it's almost heartbreaking."

He sent you a tired smile.

"Come on, I'll run you a bath, what do you think?" You suggested, kissing his cheek.

"Sounds wonderful." He agreed. "As long as you join me."

"Jacob, you can barely stand, how are you still horny?" You rolled your eyes.

"Didn't mean that." He chuckled. "Just wanna stay close to you. Missed you, baby."

"Missed you too." He brought you for a tight hug and you melted in his arms.

---

When the two of you managed to get upstairs, Jake sat in bed as you prepared the bath.

You walked into the room and found him going through his phone.

"Sorry." He said, without looking at you. "I'll be there in a minute, I'll just…"

When you approached him and realized he was working, you sighed and grabbed his phone.

He looked at you with a confused expression.

"Enough work." You sent him a sad look. "Work kept you away from me for WEEKS. Now it's all about us. Let me take good care of my husband, just for today?"

He couldn't resist you. Anything you asked, the answer was always yes. Specially in this occasion, when there was absolutely nothing he would rather do than spend time with you.

You grabbed his hand and guided him to the bathroom.

He removed his clothes and sat on the warm bubble bath

You only had his old shirt on, so you were able to do the same and join him in a second.

The kind of non sexual intimacy of your naked bodies touching was so relaxing. Jake walked into the house almost an hour ago, but nothing made him feel at home quite like that exact moment.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Just to enjoy the warmth from the water. To wrap his arms around you and feel like the happiest man alive.

But, suddenly, his peace was interrupted by the sound of the water moving and the loss of contact with your body.

You turned around and now sat down facing him.

Watching him with a sweet smile on your face.

You bit your lip and placed your hand on the back of his head, gently undoing the bun his hair was in.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled. "I thought this whole thing about you being eager to have a baby was only kinky stuff, honey. I know how to take a bath."

"Shut up." You laughed, taking a hand full of water to the back of his head, wetting his hair. "I'm just taking care of my husband."

He didn't say or do anything to stop you. So you grabbed the shampoo bottle and applied a little on your hand, proceeding to massage his scalp very gently with the tip of your fingers.

He closed his eyes and relaxed again as you finished washing his hair. You took your time and enjoyed the moment. Jake's hair was soft and he looked absolutely breathtaking like that. Relaxed. Humming softly. His wet golden chain caught your eyes as you watched his chest going up and down slowly. So beautiful. Beautiful couldn't even describe it…

"I love you." You whispered to him.

He smiled and opened his eyes. "I love you too. So much that sometimes I just can't believe you're my wife. Just too good to be truth."

You smiled like a fool and wished that moment could last forever. But the water was getting cold. So you stood up and wrapped a towel around your body.

"Where are you going?" He protested.

"Come on, let's put some clean clothes on, I miss movie night and cuddles on the sofa." You suggested.

---

Jake was sitting on the sofa in his grey sweatpants and sweatshirt. You always told him that was his softest outfit and it was just perfect for cuddling. Heaven couldn't compare to that feeling... your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

The tv was only background noise, cause he was actually looking at you. When you felt his gaze, you looked back at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You asked. "Jesus, looks like you haven't seen me in like... a month?"

"I could spend my whole life looking at you and I still wouldn't have enough." He said, caressing your cheek with two fingers.

You stood like that for a while, looking at each other's eyes while he stroked your cheeks softly. Then his fingers started to move down to your chin. Then to your lips. You parted them a bit and Jake slid his fingers inside your mouth slowly.

You nibbled them gently with your front teeth until he moved them deeper inside your mouth, placing them on your tongue. He started moving them in lazy circles. All without losing eye contact. It was so intense that you left out a moan without even noticing it.

"What's on your mind, babygirl?" He smiled.

You grabbed his wrist and removed his fingers from your mouth, sucking them on the process.

"What you said earlier in the bathroom." You admitted. "And by the front door too. Thinking about you getting me pregnant, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Fuck, y/n..." He smirked. "Is this still only kinky stuff?"

"Yeah, for now it is." You said, straddling his lap. "Just wanna make you hard. Be the only one who gets to call you daddy just for now."

Those sweatpants weren't only good for cuddling. It was also amazing to feel his hard cock through them.

"Yes, pretty girl, I love it when you call me daddy." He kissed you passionately, while his hands traveled your body, ending up on your clothed core. His fingers barely brushed your clit through your panties and you left out a little "ouch".

"You still didn't even recover from how good I fucked you last time and you already want more, my greedy little slut." He chuckled.

"Yeah, I fucking missed you." You shrugged. "And we're not gonna fuck again, we're gonna make love now."

"Who said that?" He raised his eyebrows. "What if I want to fuck you?"

His fingers insisted on touching your clit until you started getting used to it.

"Be gentle with me, daddy, please." You begged. "Need your love, not just your cock."

If he wasn't convinced already, the way you asked made him change his mind.

"Okay, baby." He pulled his pants down and grabbed his cock, beautiful hard again. "Why don't you ride me nice and slow, then?"

You nodded, raising your hips a little, so he could help you remove your panties. He tossed them on the floor and his fingers went back to your core, spreading your folds and running his fingers through them until you were wet enough. He slid two fingers inside you and you started rocking your hips softly. He removed his fingers from you too suddenly, and your pussy automatically clenched around nothing.

You sent him a pleading look, but he was too busy licking his fingers. You waited. But your suffering didn't last very long, he quickly grabbed his cock and gave it a few strokes before aligning it with your pussy. He held it dangerously close and teased your entrance a bit. When the head was in, he left you do the job.

You lowered yourself on his cock slowly. Inch by inch like you didnt want to miss a single detail, a single vein. Your tight hole embraced all of his thick length. The last time he stretched you up wasn't that long ago, but you still needed to adjust to his size. You held on to his hair, that was still wet, and started moving your hips.

"Just ike that, my angel." He whispered, placing his hands on your hips and guiding them up and down slowly. "Nice and slow, good girl."

You managed to keep that slow sensual pace with him praising you and telling you that you were the love of his life every 10 seconds. But only until he was getting close. His words turned into incoherent moans and his fingers digged into your hips, which you understood as a sign to go a little faster.

Your 4th release that night was approaching. You felt like you would fall apart when you reached it, but you still needed it. After all… what's the problem of falling apart when you're in your lover's arms?

You two came almost at the same time. You were connected just like that. He held your body close and you fell on his chest, completely weak. But, one more time, Heaven couldn't compare. Sitting on his lap, his cock still inside you, after barely coming down from your high. Your head resting on his chest, on his soft sweatshirt, his cologne mixed with the smell of sex in the air.

He didn't want to leave that place. Didn't matter if it would be for a month again, of even for a second. He was fully aware at that moment that you were the most important thing in his life.

He gently removed you from his lap, placing you on the sofa, and fixed his clothes before standing up. You were absolutely exhausted and didn't move a muscle, just sat on the sofa on the exact same position he left you. He chuckled and leaned close to you, placing one arm on your back and the other under your legs. Your arms automatically wrapped around his shoulders and he picked you up.

"What are you doing?" You yawned and rested your head on his shoulder.

"It's my turn now." He smiled and kissed your forehead. "I'm taking care of my wife."

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #jake gyllenhaal imagine

591 notes · View notes

problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

It’s Not About Dibs

Ron Speirs x Reader

Oh HELL yes! This is for you @teenmagazines, hope you’re ready for a doozy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Talbert was a smooth son of a bitch, you had to give him that much.

You knew he was a flirt, had known it from the moment you’d met him back in Georgia. Being a nurse meant you were accustomed to feeling the lingering looks of the men you helped, it came with the territory, really. It only made sense- these men saw so few women during these years of vigorous training that the first flash of skirt was bound to catch their attention. It was natural, understandable.

But Floyd? Floyd was absolutely shameless when it came to flirting with you. Where the traumas of war had numbed any sense of charm in most of the men who had initially tried to pursue you, Tab seemed to only grow more determined, bolder in his flirtatious quips.

Normally, you laughed and brushed it off- flirting back for fun before the two of you would inevitably be called back to your positions. It hadn’t ever gone too far, the both of you having some unspoken understanding that it was all done in good fun and that nothing was probably ever going to happen.

Tonight, however, was a different story entirely.

Part of the reason you’d never truly given Floyd a second thought was due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Talbert would flirt with anything with a vagina and a smile, but if you were being completely honest with yourself- you knew it had more to do with your complicated infatuation with a certain Captain from Dog Company.

Ron Speirs was a….problem for you, to say the least.

He was brooding and intimidating and sharp-tongued, yes- but he was also one of the most distractingly handsome men you had ever met. And the bastard knew it, too.

From the moment Meehan had asked him to further your education in hand to hand combat, Ron Speirs had made it clear that he knew exactly how distracting he could be. Between the smug smirks he’d shoot your way and the borderline lewd take-down positions he’d work the two of you into, Ron always made sure to whisper corrections to the shell of your ear in such a way that your breath would catch almost painfully in your throat.

“Can’t leave your side open like that, pretty girl.”

“You’re gonna have to use your hips to twist out of this one.”

“You gonna get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you squirm like that, darlin’.”

It pissed you off, it turned you on.

Under his tutelage, you’d excelled- learning how to break away from an attacker and how to strike to kill and how to use someone’s momentum against them. His praise made you preen and you’d be lying if you said that pinning him underneath didn’t you gave you some sort of proud rush.

A strange, heady familiarity had formed- one that never really went anywhere but still seemed to connect you to each other like an electric current.

After dropping into Normandy, however, his strange charm had turned into a nearly cruel protectiveness.

More often than not you found yourself being pushed aside and dragged away from the men you were trying to treat, overlooked when it came to picking which nurses were to take rotations on the frontlines. The few times you managed to actually get out there and do your fucking job, Ron was hovering so tensely behind you that you found yourself making mistakes or tripping over yourself. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you as a woman anymore.

If anything, you were just another mouth to feed.

Another face he had to deal with.

The only time any of that had wavered was in the forests around Foy, when he’d had no say in the fact that you were to be Dog Company's medic.

The fail of firepower and shattering trees was nothing short of spectacular- a symphony of destruction that scared you as much as if amazed you. Never before had you felt the earth around you quake and rattle with such violent power that you truly believed it could crack open and swallow you whole.

And through the entirety of it, Ron Speirs had been there- shielding you from the onslaught of falling shards of timber and shrapnel with every inch of his body, holding your helmet onto your head as he used his body to shelter you from the destruction happening just above your heads.

Any and all of your screams were encouraged into the meat of his chest as he held you so close you wondered if the two of you might fuse together, his grip on you refusing to let you respond to the desperate cries of “medic” until he was absolutely sure that the onslaught had ceased for the time being.

He’d kissed you for the first time during one of these barrages, when you hadn’t screamed at all and simply clung to him as if you feared he’d be torn away from you if you didn’t. Ron had shouted your name through the chaos, and when you’d turned your head to look at him he’d crushed his lips against yours with the same anxious desperation you’d been holding him with- kissing you until your head swam and all you could hear and see and taste and feel was him, him him.

Your lips had been swollen by the time it all became quiet again, your body feeling warmer than it had in weeks and panting up at him like an idiot.

When the scream for a medic rang out, he’d hungrily kissed you once more before sitting back enough to allow you to leave the foxhole, his eyes wild as he nodded for you to go.

“Be careful,” he’d commanded, chest heaving as he looked at you. “Come back when you’re done.”

That had been nearly two weeks ago, and when you had come back he’d acted as if nothing had happened. The next day, when word of relief medics had reached the encampment, he’d sent you away again.

You should’ve known nothing would change, but it still stung.

Which brought you back to Floyd Talbert.

A group of you were sitting around a table while some of the other men played cards nearby, a bottle of some gold liquid being passed around to anyone who wanted some.

Tab, lubed up and feeling confident, was whispering some sweet thing into your ear that you were just tipsy enough to blush at- something about how ‘unfair it was that’ you were so ‘beautiful and smart’ and how sad it was that he hadn’t had the chance to ‘do anything about it’.

“I’m serious, Y/N, it’s goddamn heartbreaking, knowing you’re right here and no one is making you feel as good as you deserve to feel-”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling to the side so you can squint critically at him.

“And how good do I deserve to feel, Floyd? Hm?”

His smile was pure sex, and when he wet his lips with this tongue you couldn’t help but watch with heavy-lidded eyes.

His hand is warm on your thigh, and when he brings his forehead to rest against yours you can taste the alcohol on his breath.

“Oh, Babygirl- there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what I wanna do to you…”

The finger he drags along the seam of your pants between your legs had you inhaling sharply, heat rising to your cheeks as you somehow manage not to jump at the contact.

God, when was the last time anyone had touched you there…?

In your mind’s eye, you get a flash of memory, remembering the time Ron had shown you how to wrestle your thighs around a man’s neck and pin him down.

He’d looked so proud when you’d finally managed to do it, patting your thigh with a mumble of “that’s it, good job”

Just as your lips part to reply, a hand grabs heavily at your shoulder and you’re being pulled up from your seat bodily, snapping out of your carnal daze like you’ve been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

It takes you a moment to realize that Ron is the owner of that hand, and is currently fisting Floyd’s jacket and all but throwing him to the ground.

“Ron!”

You barely hear yourself shout his name over the sound of everyone else in the room shooting to their feet and rushing over, no one stopping the Captain but no one silently watching either.

A wave of protests and cries to take it easy floods the room, and only you are close enough to hear Ron’s venomous accusations being grit out through his teeth.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind, boy? Is this how you engage with a fellow soldier? Getting them drunk and copping a feel, huh?”

Floyd, to his credit, says nothing as Ron hovers over him face blank and hands raised submissively at his sides. What he probably shouldn’t have done, however, was let a smirk curl the corners of his full lips and shoot a wink your way.

Ron all but snarls at that, roughly letting the man go before standing up straight and turning on you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps icily. “You’re done for the night.”

You protest, backing away from him about two steps before he grabs you by the arm and is hauling you through the throng that had assembled around him and Tab and marching towards the door.

“Jesus, Ron! What’s your problem?”

He ignores you, storming the both of you out of the building you had previously been in, across the street, and pulling you behind him into the house he had usurped from a family earlier in the day.

“Ron, you’re hurting my arm, stop it!”

The grip on your bicep softens instantly, his fingers wrapping around your sleeve and dragging you by the fabric instead.

By the time you manage to shake him off, he’s already let you go, having brought the two of you into a room that must have belonged to one of the children who’d been temporarily displaced.

You stumble a few steps before catching your footing, anger flooding your veins with a rage you hadn’t felt in quite a while.

You gape at his back as he closes the door behind him, one of his hands coming up to smooth his dark hair back into place. He’s breathing hard but so are you, and when he doesn’t turn back around to look at you you decide to take matters into your own hands.

He does seem surprised when you grab his arm and yank him around to face you, his piercing eyes going wide for just a moment before becoming cold once again.

“What in the absolute fuck is your problem?!” you screech, smacking his hand when it begins to rise and reach for you. “No, NO! Don’t fucking touch me! What the fuck? What’s the matter with you?”

His glare does nothing to intimidate you, if anything it fuels your anger.

Poking his chest with a hard jab of your finger, you step into him and let him have it.

“You have no right to manhandle me like that, you hear me? You had no right to spoil everyone’s night like that—”

“I’m your commanding officer, Y/L/N,” he spat quietly, batting your hand away with all the attention he would give a pestering fly. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do—!”

“Eugene Roe and Spina are my fucking superiors, Speirs- I’m not one of your soldiers and you don’t get to pick and chose to torment me when you feel like flexing your authority! Not with me, not with any of the medics! Only Winters can do that and you know that—!”

The look he gives you is nothing less than a blaring warning, his jaw ticking with rage.

“Get out of my face, Nurse. You forget who you’re talking to—”

You smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind my face being this close to yours a couple of weeks ago, or was that another power trip on your part?”

“Y/N, I’m warning you—”

“Why? What are you going to do? Send me away again? Get all high and mighty just because Floyd has the balls to like me and fucking do something about it and you don’t?”

His hands snap out and roughly grab your face before smashing his lips to yours so hard your teeth clink together, the kiss cruel and overpowering and so goddamn hot it nearly makes your toes curl.

Your hands shove at him, anger and lust and hurt and sadness all hitting you at once and making your head spin.

“Ron, Ron! HEY!”

You’re able to turn your face from the kiss enough to bark at him, moving to step away only to realize he’s walked you back so you hit a wall softly. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt and his hands have moved from your face to your arms and for a few moments the two of you just stand there gasping for air and openly glaring at each other.

When you finally collect yourself enough to steady your breathing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, wetting your lips a few times before you feel like you can actually speak.

“That’s….this isn’t fair. You don’t get to do shit like that—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to you and hissing when you shove him back.

“That. you don't get to, fucking- fucking treat me like shit and then get all possessive when I’m not even, when we’re not...you don’t get to do that—!”

“He had his fucking hands all over you.” Ron’s voice is steel on stone, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I wanted his fucking hands on me.”

Ron frowns at that, and you frown right back.

“You made yourself pretty clear, sending me away like some nuisance after I saved your men when no one else would. If you hate me so much, why’d you kiss me in the first place—?”

He’s shaking his head before you finish speaking, “It had nothing to do with that, I don’t fucking hate you—”

You scoff. “No?”

“No, you stupid girl—”

“Don’t call me stupid, you fucking prick. I’m not the one who results to schoolyard antics when I get a crush on someone—!”

Ron barks a laugh at that. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I left right now and let Floyd Talbert absolutely destroy me tonight?”

He says your name as another warning, and you can’t stop the amused expression that crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Unbelievable. You’re such a child.”

This time he has no reply, but the look he gives you is answer enough.

No, I would definitely mind.

Letting your eyes squeeze shut, you take a deep breath.

“What do you want from me, Ron?”

The hands that had been gripping your forearms falter slightly, and you hear the catch of his breath at the exhaustion in your voice.

When you open your eyes again, you see a look of confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t truly know what he wants either. Like he hadn’t gotten that far in his possessive thinking.

You both stand there for a few moments in silence, your breaths slowing and your fires smoldering into a controllable flame.

You take one of your hands from his chest to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, not realizing that your bun had come loose at some point.

Ron’s eyes follow the movement, and when you go to let your arm hang loosely by your side he takes your wrist and gently brings it back up to rest against his chest. He keeps his touch light enough that you can pull your hand away if you really wanted to.

You don’t.

When you begin to turn your head away Ron says your name again, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it or known it could be.

“Ron,” you reply, too tired to argue any more.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, and when you meet his gaze you see a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

The same way he’d looked at you before he’d kissed you in the forest.

You take a deep breath. “Not if you’re going to treat me like crap and send me away afterward.”

He studies you for a moment before he nods minutely, eyes flickering down to your lips as he hesitantly takes a step into you again, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your jaw.

When he kisses you this time it is sweet, his full mouth plush against yours and nothing like the way he’s kissed you before.

He does nothing untoward, allowing you to deepen the kiss in your own time and inhaling sharply once you do.

His hair is soft between your fingers, softer than it had any right to be for someone so rough.

As you tilt your head to the side he just holds you, hands framing your face as if you’re made of glass before he finally breaks away and takes a step back to catch your reaction.

“That was...different.”

He smiles briefly at your response, a warmth in his gaze only serving to make you flush deeper.

“Bad, or—?”

No, no. Not bad,” you rush to say, taking a deep breath before shooting him a nervous smile. “It was...nice.”

“I should’ve kissed you like that the first time.”

You shake your head at that. “No, I mean- I didn’t mind it, uh….before.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip you swallow nervously, unused to this sort of softness from him.

“I didn’t send you away because I don't think you’re a good medic. You should- I should have made that clear.... before.”

You nod quietly. “Okay.”

“You’re, you’re really good- one of the best nurses I’ve seen—”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Ron. I already know how good I am.”

When he smirks and looks down he looks like a nervous little boy in front of you, and when his cheeks pinken you let yourself smile.

It’s obvious this is new territory for him, and the fact that he’s even trying means the world to you.

You’re still mad, still embarrassed by how wildly inappropriate his behavior was earlier, but you’re also aware of how difficult these little admissions of remorse must be for someone like him.

How difficult any sort of feelings other than rage and duty has become for all of you.

Although, you doubted he’d express any of these newfound values to anyone else.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Floyd,” you mutter, winking at Ron when his head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “Boy’s had it bad for me since we were stateside—”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Ron interrupts, raising his eyebrow when you frown at his tone. “Besides, I outrank him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order.”

You scoff at that. “I don’t think you can pull rank when calling ‘dibs’ on a girl, Ron. That’s not how ranks works.”

“Oh no?” he challenges. “Just you watch me.”

Before you can quip something back to him he gives you another long, slow kiss that effectively shuts you up.

“And, just for the record,” he says between kisses. “I don’t call ‘dibs'. If anything, I call finders keepers.”

When you pout he grins wickedly down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re such a child. I’m not a prize, I’m a catch”

“Damn right you are.”

And he gets right to proving it.

~ ~ ~

WOOHOO HERE IT BY MY LOVELIES I DID A THING AND IT MAY BE CRAP BUT IT’S MY CRAP AND I’M PLEASED WITH IT FOR NOW, OKAY?!

LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LATELY, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs imagines #beautiful requests are beautiful

230 notes · View notes

uwuwriting · 4 years

Note

Maybe pregnant hcs for Todoroki, Iida, Shinsou and Amajiki???💓💓💓💓💓

-Ohoho!!!! This right here just melts my hurt. Even thinking about it makes me weak.Plus a little heads up, everyone is having daughters cause I’m weak to the knees with the thought of these four and their babygirls so be prepared. Hope I don’t disappoint.💖💖💖

*All characters are aged up so around the ages of 20-25 and up*

Todoroki Shouto

-You and Shouto have been together since your second year in UA.

-You got married when you both got well acquainted with the hero life and now live a happy , yet busy, life in an apartment near his mom’s house.

-We know that this boy would want his family to be close to him and the fact that you get along with everyone fills his heart with so much love.

-You two never really talked about children.

-Maybe a few suggestions of having a child in the future but nothing serious.

-Que the morning sickness.

-Shouto was really worried about you, I mean look at you.

-You’re emptying your guts in the toilet every single morning.

-You can’t eat most foods that you used to like and have a weird craving for tuna yogurt?!

-He doesn’t want to leave the house, he even convinced you to take some days off and try to relax.

-Give your body rest.

-He promised to get some days off himself to take care of you.

-You had your suspicions, tbh.

-You just didn’t tell him.

-Whether that was to not get his hopes up or to post pone the heartbreak you didn’t really know.

-So what if you were mildly panicking over the fact that the 5 pregnancy tests you just took were all positive.

-It was the first day of your mini ‘vacation’ and thankfully Shouto had been called in today.

-Because you’re panicking and legit losing your shit over this, you call....Rei.

-Okay maybe it wasn’t the best course of action considering you were on the verge of cardiac arrest, but what can you do.

-You asked her if she was home and if you could stop by.

-Of course she said yes, delighted to see you and mentioned that Fuyumi was also going to stop by in around an hour.

-You made your way to her house, arriving just as Fuyumi was pulling into the drive way.

-After greeting each other and going inside, you took your seats in the living room and waited for Rei to make some tea.

-Fuyumi was going on and on about what the kids at the kindergarten were doing and how cute some of them were being.

-Neither of the Todoroki women had missed your puffy eyes or how your smile would constantly waver, but they decided to let you tell them on your own accord.

-Once Rei joined you in the living room, they both turned to you.

- “So how have you been Y/n, dear?” Rei said watching you really closely.

-You looked down, feeling hot tears starting to form in your eyes and your throat tightening painfully.

-Fuyumi moved closer to you while Rei draped an arm around your shoulders which were shacking at the moment.

- “I-I’m p-pregnant.” it was barely a whisper, but they heard it alright.

-Mom mode activated 2x.

-They reassured you that everything was going to be fine and how lucky you are.

-They repeatedly said how excited Shouto will be and what of a push over of a dad he would become.

-After 4 long hours of baby talk, you returned home, collapsing on the sofa before passing out for a good 3 hour nap.

-When you woke up, Shouto was home and sitting next to you weaving his fingers absentmindedly through your hair.

- “Hey there sleepyhead.”

-How could his voice be so soft!?!?

-You buried your face into the blanket, which really confused him, I mean...what did he do?

- “We have a problem...” pause....awkward silence.... “I’m pregnant.”

-*Windows noises*

-After the mild stroke, he lifted you up so you were looking at him and just stared at you.

-Those seconds that he just looked at you felt like eternity.

-The torture ended however, when he lowered his head to your stomach and lifting your shirt, placed a small kiss right under your belly button.

- “Hey there, snowflake. Nice to meet you.”

-And with that, 9 exhausting months started full of mood swings, weird cravings, back rubs and a never ending list of baby names.

-You two learned you were having twins on your fifth appointment, but you decided to keep the gender a surprise.

-On a cold January night your two girls were brought into the world and it was one of the few times you had seen Endeavour and Natsuo in the same room bawling their eyes out.

-Your white haired baby was named Rei *after her grandmother* while your mixed red and h/c babygirl Ren.

-When Shouto held them for the first time, you thought he was going to have a mental breakdown.

-He’s a total push over and your girls are daddy’s girls to the core.

-He’s the best dad they could ask for.

Iida Tenya

-You and Tenya have been married for 6 years now and have been trying endlessly for a baby.

-You both agreed that you were ready for the responsibility and that having a little Tenya running around the house sounded like a great idea.

-Saying that you were exhausted form the attempts was an understatement.

-Tenya had incredible stamina and even more libido, so you can safely assume that during the week long process of baby making you couldn’t walk straight.

-However, your little shenanigans stopped when your doctor delivered you the news.

-You had been hit by a blood related quirk while dealing with a villain and had to get a check up afterwards.

-You were given a scolding the moment you saw your doctor because why aren’t you in desk duty you RASCAL!?

-You were confused beyond belief and it was written all over your face.

- “You don’t know do you?”

-Le sigh.

- “Mrs. Iida I’m happy to announce you that you’re expecting, so that means you are to be put in desk duty for the next 4 months or else I’m making sure you don’t leave the house for a good 9 months.”

-You. Were. Ecstatic.

-You ran to Tenya’s agency, bringing down the damned door to his office giving the man a heart attack.

- “Y/n what’s-”

- “I’M PREGNANT!”

-Que ecstatic air chopping.

-Tenya went into full dad mode during those 9 months.

-Buttt he’s also kinda nervous.

-Nervous like Tamaki in a crowd level nervous.

-You get the image.

-You have anything you want whenever you want it.

-The nursery is done the moment you find out you are having a gilr.

-Unlike Todoroki he isn’t patient enough to keep the gender a secret.

-When the day arrives, you’re just chilling outside with him when you nonchalantly blurt out ‘my waters broke’.

-....oh...oH.....OHSHIIIIIIIT.

- “WHY ARE YOU SO CALM?! GET UP! ARE YOU IN PAIN? CAN YOU WALK!?”

-This goes on until you are screaming and crushing his hand in the delivery room.

-Your little girl is born and she’s a carbon copy of Tenya.

-Same colored hair and eyes.

-The face structure looks like you.

-She has your nose and mouth, along with your eyebrows but apart from that she’s a mini genderbend Tenya.

-Because she was born early in the morning you decided to change her name and so little Asami Tenya was officially a part of this world.

-Tenya cried.

-You cried.

-Asami cried.

-You were one happy crying family.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-You and Hitoshi have been together for two years now, but you haven’t put a ring on it.

-Sure you live together and act like a married couple already but you’re not Mrs.Shinsou.....yet.

-You have been feeling strange for days now and your period was late which never happens.

-You are panicking but unlike Shouto you two aren’t married.

-He can leave with almost no complications.

-You were his girlfriend not his wife.

-The pregnancy tests you had taken were mocking you from the bathroom sink and your poor hormone ridden mind couldn’t handle the stress.

-You cried a river until you heard keys jiggling and HItoshi’s iconic ‘Kitten, I’m home!’

-You couldn’t face him like this.

-In a haste you shoved the tests into the laundry basket along with their packages and covered them with some sheets.

-Fixing your hair and washing your face, you straightened and walked out the door.

-After greeting Hitoshi with a kiss you calmly told him to go get ready while you made him something to eat.

-Your mind was running laps thinking how you could tell him or how you could solve your little problem as quietly as possible.

-That is until he walked in holding what seemed to be a box.

-A pregnancy test box.

-HOW CAN YOU BE BLIND?

- “Y/n, what’s this?”pause “Are you..?”

-Anddd more crying.

-You sobbed about how sorry you were and how you couldn’t explain how it happened.

-Both of you were so careful, how did this happen???

-After a good 15 minutes of you bawling your eyes out on the kitchen floor while Hitoshi was trying to calm you down, you finally stopped at the sound of his chuckle.

- “Well, damn kitten, your surprise definitely beat mine.”

-Then he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and watched you closely.

-Now you are Mrs.Shinsou.

-These 9 months weren’t as bad as you would expect.

-Hitoshi was really good at giving you everything you wanted and during the whole pregnancy you didn’t lift a finger.

-One October night your waters broke and you found yourself in a long procedure of bringing your child into the world.

-Hitoshi was a wreck and had called Aizawa for emotional support who called Hizashi who called Midnight.

-Once you were finished, Hitoshi rushed into your room and found you utterly exhausted.

-He was the first to hold your baby and you have never seen him cry this much in your life.

- “Hello my little Kei.”

-Kei Shinsou was a happy little girl with an amazing father by her side.

Amajiki Tamaki

-Ah love.

-Something Tamaki found during high school and held onto it ever since.

-Now a well known pro hero, Suneater was more than happy with his life with you.

-He always wanted a little something more but never expressed it.

-He loved the idea of having a mini you running around the living room or waking him up in the morning with little squeals and kisses.

-He loved you to the moon and back, more than life itself but having a kid with you sparked a whole new sensation in him.

-So he tried to be sly about it.

-Forgetting the condoms or to pull out.

-You not being able to find your pills.

-A whole lot of fun.

-You were newly weds and your libidos were high af and with the prospect of children on the table Tamaki became 10x more driven and horny.

-So you weren’t all that surprised when your doctor gave you the news.

-You had gone for a plain old check up when he came into the room with a bright smile on his face and congratulations falling like a waterfall from his mouth.

-Once back home you put your plan in motion.

-You had a feeling Tamaki was trying to knock you up for some time now.

-He couldn’t forget to pull out every time like come on.

-But you were fine with it since you too wanted a kid with him.

-You just would’ve liked a little heads up first.

-You made your little bun and put it in the oven.

-And waited.

-Until finally Tamaki walked through the door, a smile gracing his features as he made his way to you.

- “Hey bunny.”

-Giving him a quick peck you told him to check the oven real quick to make sure the food was all good.

-He obliged, walking to the kitchen and seeing the sole bun sitting in the oven.

-He was beyond confused on why you would only make one bun in the oven and not more, I mean you are two peop- ohhhh.

-OH.

-He did it.

-He let the news settle in before going back to you.

- “Are you sure?” nod “100% sure?” another nod.

-At that he fell to his knees in front of you, attacking your stomach with kisses and I love yous.

-To whom they were directed you couldn’t actually tell but you were happy either way.

-Calls the baby butterfly.

-Makes the whole nursery along with Mirio who is ecstatic.

-Butterfly themed baby room.

-Expect many back and belly rubs along with Tamaki coming home early because Fatgum cannot allow him to stay at work when he’s preparing for a baby.

-When your waters break you are buying some onesies with small octopuses on them.

-You have never been taken to the hospital so fast in your whole hero career.

-After many painful and stressful hours, your baby girl is born and she’s stunning.

-She has Tama’s ears and hair but your eyes and nose.

-She’s a perfect mix.

-The Big 3 cry as a team.

-When she’s given to him, Tamaki just cry laughs at how gorgeous she’s.

-Many thank yous are exchanged.

- Cho Amajiki.

-Tamaki cannot stop repeating the name even after they have taken her away.

-He curls on the chair next to you, holding your hand the whole night, falling into a deep sleep, imaging his new life with his little butterfly.

2K notes · View notes

supergirl-writingz · 4 years

Text

Goodbye

Kara x Reader

Request: mmm idk if this can classify as heartbreak but reader getting kidnapped by cadmus and when kara comes to rescue her, she watches reader take her last breaths because kara was too late. you can make it as angsty as you want tho

Warning: death, shooting, mourning

Note: damn this made me sad writing LOL i hope u like it:( lmk if u want a part 2 of Kara dealing with it

It started off as a normal day at the DEO. Kara felt guilty because she didn’t see any of the times you called her, so she decided to give you a call. She got a little worried when you didn’t answer, but you always told her she worried too much about you, so she let it go. She figured you were busy or something. All of the sudden Winn announced that someone was trying to hack into our servers.

“I think they’re trying to livestream something to our computers” he said typing away.

“Let them, lets see what this is” Alex responded.

Winn nodded and let the video go onto to the big screen. On the screen there was a girl, bound to a chair. It took a few moments but then Kara realized...

The girl was you.

“No” is all Kara could say. Nobody else knew who it was. To be fair, you were pretty beaten up. The blood made it hard to be recognized, but Kara was sure.

“Oh my god. Winn find them, NOW!” Alex ordered, realizing it was you.

Winn nodded and instantly started doing what he does best.

“Can I uh- ask whats happening? Who is that?” Winn asked.

“Its Y/N” Kara said. The DEO fell silent. They all knew who you were. You were there often, bringing Kara food or just to say hi. They all loved you there. You would often bring enough food or coffee to feed all the agents.

All Kara could do was stare at you in disbelief. All of the sudden, none other than Lillian Luthor stepped in front of the camera.

“Winn turn our camera and mic on” Alex said. Winn nodded and did just that.

“Where is she?” Kara screamed.

Lillian laughed. “Oh calm down would you? I’m going to send you the address in exactly 1 minute.. but then it will be too late of course”

“I’ll kill you” Kara said coldly, and Lillian just smiled.

Lillian turned to you and watched 2 guards come and untie you. They held you up while you struggled against their hold. Without hesitation, Lillian brought out her gun and shot you in the stomach. Kara screamed out with tears in her eyes, but it was too late. Lillian smiled at the camera and told you the address to find her.

Alex grabbed her arm, “You’re not going alone”.

“What are you gonna stop me?” Kara asked coldly.

“That is an order, you will wait!” Alex yelled.

Kara stared into Alex’s eyes, “Would you wait if it was Maggie?”

When Alex couldn’t answer, Kara flew off without warning. She flew faster than she ever has before. By the time she got to the building, Cadmus had cleared out. She used her super hearing to find you, the heartbeat was faint but it was there. She instantly sped towards your side and held you. She used her x-ray vision to see your injuries. Her heart broke when she knew it was too late.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” Kara cried out.

“Kara?” you spit out, finding it hard to speak.

“Yes Yes I’m here okay, everything’s going to be okay”

“I’m gonna die aren’t I?” you asked.

Kara just looked away, and that told you everything you needed to know. At this point, Kara was sobbing. You’ve never even seen Kara cry before.

“I can’t live without you” Kara said breaking down.

You smiled, “Kara you’re the strongest person I know, you’ll be okay”

All Kara could do was shake her head. You asked if Alex could hear us through the comms and Kara nodded.

“Hey Alex” you choked out, “Don’t let this kill her okay? I can’t go knowing this will kill her”

You couldn’t hear her response but you knew she understood. The pain was starting to get to you and you cried out.

“Kar I’m scared” you said softly.

“I know babygirl, I know” Kara said comforting you through her own cries.

You sat there for awhile, while Kara stoked your hair, and suddenly the pain started to dull, and you didn’t feel cold anymore.

“Hey I’m starting to feel a little better Kar, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe I’ll be okay... maybe it’s worse than it seems” you said hopefully.

Kara knew that was a bad sign. Kara knew that meant you were getting closer and closer to death.

“Yeah you’re going to be okay” Kara lied to calm you.

“We should’ve moved in together. I know we wanted to wait and we didn’t want to rush but I always knew... I always knew I wanted to spend my whole life with you” you said.

“Hey we will okay? We’ll spend the rest of our lives together. I can imagine our whole future” Kara said, knowing it wasn’t true.

“Tell me about it... about our future” you said, struggling to breathe.

“Well we moved in together, in the outskirts of National City because we wanted to stay here but we wanted a big house, a little outside of the city. And we have a dog who is so sweet and never leaves your side.”

“Keep going” you said weakly, the scenario bringing you comfort.

“Well, we have 3 kids... 2 girls and a boy. I wanted to stop at 2 but you were dead set on having a boy, but Rao am I glad we did. You’re so great with them, they love you so so much” Kara said, and noticed your breathing was slowing, and time was running out.

“I mean I would always freak out when something went wrong but wow you were always so calm with them and handled every issue with such grace. You made it look so easy. And we’re just so happy, and we’re so in love” Kara finished and looked at you. Even when you were dying, you looked so beautiful to her.

“I love you Kar-” you said as you took your last breath. Kara took a moment and then closed your eyes and cried into you. She cried and cried until Alex and the other agents showed up. Kara didn’t even notice they were there until Alex put a hand on her shoulder. When Kara looked at Alex, she looked broken. Alex brought her into a hug where she cried some more. She didn’t know how she would ever get through this, or even if she would.

“It’s time to go Kar” Alex said softly after a while.

Kara nodded and turned to you and stared at your lifeless body. She planted a kiss on your forehead, holding so tightly onto the fake future she told you about... the future that she longed for.

“Goodbye Y/N. I love you, forever”

#supergirl #supergirl fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fic #supergirl fan fic #kara #kara danvers #kara danvers imagine #kara x reader #kara danvers x reader #supergirl imagine #kara zor el #kara zor el imagine #kara zor el x reader #alex danvers

135 notes · View notes

soft-sunflower · 4 years

Text

Flower of Evil- Episode 7 Thoughts

Okay... so what's up with the whole poor Hyunsoo/Heeseong waking up injured, in pain, disoriented and scared? It's okay. JG pulls it off so well, so I'm totally down with it tbh. Poor man... had no idea where he was, saw a bunch of valuable jewelry, was probably gonna steal it, escape, pawn it so he could get some cash and try to find somewhere to try and live. After all, his f'n roommate just tried to KILL HIM for money! But, for real though... the unfather is freaking me out more and more. WHY is he carrying a tray with bloody towels on it and coming to where HS is...? I'm a little weirded out by that. These unparents give me the willies... Especially the unfather.

Okay, so ummm that lovemaking scene? IT WAS FIRE OK. I mean by kdrama standards, that was WOW and ummm... I'm thinking kdramas might be getting a little bit braver, but omg... here's the thing. It wasn't just sex though... Jiwon STILL loves him. Enough that she wanted all of him. She clung to him. Laced her fingers together to hold onto him and the focus on their wedding rings. This happens a lot. I'm seeing the focus on their wedding rings in many of their scenes often. I feel like this carries some sort of heavy significance. You can tell this is so hard for her, because she's not sure if her husband is a killer or not, but she loves him so openly and genuinely that she even cries while making love to him. She wants him, and she wants a reason to forgive him.

Which brings me to the next part I want to talk about. Where HS is waking up after their night of passion. JW is so tender with him, brushing back his hair. I really truly believe her inner dialogue abut him not having a choice was true. HE HAD NO CHOICE! What could he have done with everyone blaming him and dragging him down and trying to place him in a villainous role he doesn't want?? And there are PLENTY of reasons here that we have yet to talk about to forgive him. This man LOVES you. You are his safe place, for starters. I wonder though, when he wakes up and grabs her hand and looks afraid, if he was having a bad dream. He didn't want to talk about his dream when she asked. It was just a dream. Poor HS. :(

My heart ached when he said "it feels like nothing happened... because nothing changed." He looks so heartbreakingly childlike and desperate, because he wants this to be true. He doesn't want anything to change. He LOVES Jiwon and his daughter. He wants their happy home to continue remaining happy and warm and safe and comfortable, but it's slowly crumbling right before his eyes, and I think deep down, he knows it. The truth will always come out in some way, and as heartbreaking as it is for him, it's happening. His wife is onto him, and at this point, he just might be in denial about this.

The accomplice tape unnerves me. I want to know WHO was on that tape, and it's clear that it's unnerving Hyunsoo also. He could hear the clanging sounds in the background... Sounds from his father's shop? Something else? We saw the cymbol from during his exorcism. Is there a chance that the accomplice could be the village head? I don't know. Village Head, teams up with Do Min Seok, helps aid in his serial killings and then after Min Seok's "suicide" (maybe the village head killed him?) takes in the kids and tries to make himself look like a good man when in reality he is not, and then goes and gets himself killed by Haesu? Or maybe there is a third party involved? Ugh I don't know! I do know this. There's more to the village head than meets the eye and I NEED to know what he's done to these people. Also, the way Haesu reacted to the TV station playing it's bit about the village head's murder? The flashback of the murder weapon, skirt and legs? Hmmmm... REALLY fishy, and I've felt off about that girl for a bit now. I THINK she did it...

Okay, the next part I want to go over is Hyunsoo as a child being questioned by the counselor... that child looks absolutely miserable and depressed. If he were my son, I would've had him in appropriate treatment and not instantly believing he's capable of murder. If you notice him, he looks reluctant to answer... almost as if he were FORCED to say he did these things. Forced, brainwashed, threatened... I don't know. Did he throw the dog in a well? Maybe, maybe not, but to me he does not seem the type to do it. The way he answered "yes" did not come across to me like someone admitting to something they did. I feel like he was forced to say he did these things or wanted to do these things OR something BAD happened enough to cause him severe trauma to the point that he DID want to do these things. SOMETHING terrible happened to him as a child.

HOLY FREAKING UNFATHER!!! You're ANGRY that HS didn't kill the taxi driver!? Just like HS said, I thought you'd be pleased... why are you NOT pleased? WHY are you trying to force this poor man into the role of a murderer when he is NOT a murderer!? WHY are you trying to villainize him?? What breaks my heart during this whole entire scene here is that he's furious that HS didn't murder, so furious to the point that he is now threatening HS's family!? WHY!? Telling him he needs to go? Far away?? What exactly DOES he mean by that? And what does he mean by "I'll take care of your wife and daughter forever." What is "the worst possible outcome" exactly?? This man is more horrifying than anyone I've come across in this show yet. You're a doctor and hospital director, so what the literal HELL!? And HS is afraid of him. You can see it all over his face. All he can do is just agree and say he hears him. The unfather has him underneath his pinky finger and he knows it.

Oh CRAP the unstable ungrandma has Eunha!? That's kinda unsettling... and then when the little one starts work on her studies (it's clear she's a highly intelligent little girl since she's a few grades ahead!) the lady goes batshit and rips up her books? WHY? Does this have something to do with her real son, the real Heeseong? What does she mean by "it'll kill you and your mother?" Poor babygirl Eunha... but at least ungrandma take her out for an egg tart to help her feel better, and she is such a good girl. Ungrandma even tries to gently wipe Eunha's face clean of egg tart. That was... rather unexpected and the first time I've ever seen any form of tenderness from ungrandma/unmother. Hmmm... interesting.

OKAY CAN I JUST SCREAM FOR A MINUTE THAT I KNEW IT!!! I KNEW DO HYUNSOO WAS NOT THE KILLER. I KNEW HE WAS PROTECTING HIS SISTER BECAUSE OF IT. I KNEW SHE KILLED HIM. Of course Moojin still wants to place that blame on Hyunsoo and claims she’s just protecting Hyunsoo. I just had this feeling deep in my gut because something felt off about her. However, do I believe she killed in a psychopathic way? No. I don't. I think that village head was doing something terrible to those kids. I KNEW Hyunsoo was protecting his sister, and I knew that his sister disappearing the way she did was protecting him too. They both know what happened and why she killed him. I have my suspicions why too. I could be wrong, but the sister is far too emotional and sad to be a crazed killer, I feel. I think it was self defense or something along those lines. Could be wrong though! Might shock us all!

Jiwon, I get why you're showing him Hyunsoo's bag. I know you're trying to garner a reaction out of him so you can catch him, but you still don't know the truth of it all. You don't know everything or what all has happened to him. I know you're a detective, but stop trying to catch him and try to understand and learn all of his truths and his past before condemning him for something he hasn't done. Yes, he lied to you about his true name for 14 years, and a past that he wanted to keep buried, but you keep getting more and more proof that he was not a murderer and it's him that's showing you this.

Instead of trying to shake a reaction out of him, continue to do your digging and investigating in secret. And poor HS... his heart is aching and racing and he's going into a bad anxiety attack over all of this. It's clear this poor man has some serious mental health issues going on. Not just a personality disorder, but anxiety and panic, possibly even depression since it was stated he suffered from it as a child... he's losing his safe place. It's slowly burning and about to crash right before his very eyes... Please, Jiwon. Please keep looking. He's innocent. You've got to learn that he's innocent. If anything, Hyunsoo is the victim overall.

The scene with the younger him and his sister... he was able to tell she's feeling anger. I don't think he completely lacks the ability to tell/feel emotions but that they've been so heavily repressed for so long that he's likely forgotten/been brainwashed into becoming unfeeling or not understanding certain emotions. But you can tell in their scene alone how close he is with his sister, and how much he loved his mother and misses her. Do you think he witnessed their mother being murdered? I wonder... The cage in that basement... did he see his mother in there? Was HE put in there? Did his father "punish" him in the basement? Not making him copy stuff, but go inside that cage and be tortured in there by his father? Haesu was eager to tell him "Just respond okay to whatever dad says" so he didn't have to copy the Myeongsim Bogam. I don't think he copied anything. I think he was taken into the basement and bad stuff happened in there and possibly happened in that cage.

Okay... now to the last scenes of the episode... the scenes where Jiwon wants Hyunsoo to come with her to the crime scene. Revisiting his past. The place where horrible things happened to him that has caued him very obvious and severe trauma, the place where his father performed various serial killings, the place where his mother died, all of it... I love Jiwon. I understand what she's doing. I understand her, but I don't like it. She pushed him FAR too hard here. I know she's desperate to get to the truth, but trying to force "Hyunsoo" out of him was far too painful to watch.

Joongi needs to be HIGHLY praised for his acting here. When they go into the basement, it's clear that he's experienced something truly traumatic in there. You see him really start to lose at as soon as she starts playing that tape recorder. A woman humming, a woman who sounds sad and near tears as Jiwon stated. Was this woman his mother?? Going back a few scenes, we see Hyunsoo reacting when the Chinese restaurant owner removes the earbud from his ear. Threatens to break the man's arm. But when you watch him listening, he seems so at peace, calm, quiet and gently smiling. It's clear this is soothing for him. I really believe that this is the voice of his mother singing to him.

When he asks her why she's playing it, he starts to tremble, his voice is shaking and she just keep pushing and pushing... pushing all of his past traumas, heartbreak, fear, everything onto him and this scene alone confirms 100% that he is suffering from SEVERE PTSD. And yet here he is, trying so hard to keep calm and be polite toward her, telling her he'd like to leave. I understand why she's doing what she's doing, but it was too much. I screamed at the screen "STOP HURTING HIM! HE'S HAD ENOUGH PAIN!" The man is a wreck, he's distraught, he's traumatized, he's in pain, and he needs to leave. He needs to get away because this is too much for him. AND JIWON HAS A GUN AND WAS PLANNING TO SHOOT HIM!? OKAY COPPER WTF!?

And here she is continuously pushing him over the edge, pushing him to the brink. Her inner monologue is even "Do Hyunsoo. Show yourself. Make a choice. What you choose today will determine our future." And yes, his hand was at her throat, but he literally just THREW this man into a pit of reliving his past trauma, terrors, horrors, nightmares and was on the verge of completely BREAKING him! I don't know if he even realized what he was doing!? Was reliving being choked so his hand went for her throat? He's WHIMPERING, he looks about to break down into tears, and you see his hand slip to her shoulder and he is now in a full blown panic attack, cannot breathe (can he also not breathe because he was once choked down there? Abused down there? Tortured down there by his father?)

Jiwon. I love you but goodness... He wasn't trying to kill you, woman so put your damn gun away. You literally just threw him into EVERYTHING that could trigger him in the worst possible way without even realizing the damage you just inflicted all over him... This man is in pain. He's in freaking pain. Can't feel emotions my ass. Yes he most certainly can. And he's PLEADING with her. Saying PLEASE let's go. Please get me out of here, please just save me. Jiwon... yes. You were way too hard on him. There are still so many truths you don't know. If your husband was this violent killer like the world has painted him to be, do you REALLY think he would've reacted in the manner that he did?? I mean REALLY? He looked so pale and sickened on the drive home... My heart aches for him. Absolutely and utterly aches.

ALSO MOOJIN KNOWS WHO THE REAL KILLER IS. What's going to happen next!? Haesu is his first love and she just admitted to killing the village head! And now HS needs MJ's help... will he help? He does seem genuinely sorry, to the point that he's given MJ back the tape as well... Will they team up and find the REAL accomplice and get down to the real truth of it all? Also, Jiwon is tracking Hyunsoo... she knows he's at Moojin's apartment now... Ugh. And what is Jiwon burning!? I'm honestly dying to know.

HS knows his wife is closing in on his truths... and he's getting scared now. Because the loving and happy life that he's known now for the past 10+ years is slowly unraveling and he's about to lose it all. I'm praying he doesn't. I'm praying they stay together. I'm praying she helps him and gets him buttloads of therapy and that he gets to stay in his safe place. Cannot WAIT til tomorrow's episode! I can't believe we're almost over halfway through the show already. It's going too fast, but not finding out enough! Haha. Ready for tomorrow’s ep, but that ending caption of them saying their goodbyes as Baek Heeseong and Cha Jiwon stabbed me in the heart. No. Please don’t break up my couple. It hurts. T_T

#flower of evil #lee joon gi #moon chae won #do hyun soo #cha ji won #baek hee seong #lee joongi #lee jun ki #lee junki #moon chaewon #do hyunsoo #baek heeseong #episode 7 analysis #i might write more later #i need to sleep now

41 notes · View notes

whats-the-story-tc · 3 years

Text

9th of October, 2020

"The One with the Cards Laid Bare"

[INCREDIBLY LONG, SORRY FOR CLOGGING THE TAG]

There were very tense energies in our classroom before V's double class. We already knew she'd cried today, we knew where she'd be working from other classes, so we all knew what would come, and it still was bad. One of the boys said he heard that she hopes we're not all angry at her and that we won't hate her for her decision. There was not an inch of anger or hatred in any of us, just heartbreak. We knew how much we'd cry seeing her leave. We were afraid of this goodbye. But it had to come eventually. The last class she'll ever teach. The last two lessons she'll ever have.

She was late. Only a couple minutes, but seeing she's always on time, or even a bit early, it was worrying. I walked outside to find her, and when I did, I saw her, coming up the stairs with two boys from the class, fresh back from lunch. Immediately as she saw me, she raised her index finger and said: "No." I didn't really understand it, until she continued: "I'm not gonna cry. I'm trying to go at least two minutes without crying." My heart was in shambles, and nothing even happened yet.

She started by telling us an e-mail is not how she wanted us to find out. She wanted to tell us herself, but not until today, probably not until the end of class, even though she's known for quite a long time she wanted to leave. She didn't tell us, because she wanted these last days not to be chaotic, so we could still focus and do our best in class. There were signs, though. And I should have known. There's one in basically every post I wrote this year. Funny thing is, when I told you about how she was with the girl from the other class and I thought something was up, it was only my gut feeling. She hadn't told them yet. Only in the last 20 minutes of that double class.

She also told us who will be replacing her, just to get the professional part quickly over with. V said she expects us to treat them fairly, even if she won't be here to check on us. We keep this promise. Most of the time, it works.

Being a teacher doesn't pay well, and here, in our country, the profession itself is not respected the way it should be. 10 years of experience in the field means nothing, she said. The new education system is horrible, unbearable, and she's had enough of feeling like she's in a toxic relationship. Not with us, with teaching. She said she used to feel very anxious when she got here, and by now I know what she hadn't told us in that moment, that she still doesn't feel good thinking about school. She has to leave for her own sake, even though she feels incredibly guilty about it. Even though she'll miss us.

She said, through tears, constantly stopping to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts, that teaching is something she was planning to do her whole life long, but she has to step back now. Even though she has "the seniors, standing before their graduation exams, [us], whom [she's] bonded with", she can't do it anymore. And when one of the girls asked her if she really did love us, she said: "Would I have stayed so long if I didn't?"

We spent long minutes in class discussing the education system, and when I said I didn't know about something that supposedly came from the weaker one of the theatre universities here at home, V was surprised that I hadn't read it. She called me a nickname again, a new one. I've been babygirl and I've been fairy bug before, but not once have I been the name that translates to "my life". Spanish speakers, it's like when you guys say mi vida to someone you love. That's what V called me. I don't remember her ever having called someone that in class.

Between classes, Bandana Friend, who was sick, joined us via video call to speak to V, as she really wanted to say goodbye, at least like this. I stood right beside V as they spoke, out of the camera's sight, unlike my classmates, constantly goofing off in the background, making both V and my friend laugh a little. As I stood there, I couldn't help but marvel at V's eyes from up close, in the light. I don't think I've ever seen a more enchanting eye colour before, and I find nearly every pair of eyes I see pretty. Seriously, I wasn't overexaggerating in any of my posts. If you once catch her eye, you won't know when to stop looking.

After a while, though, my classmates got a bit much, still during the call, and there I was, gathering bravery and doing something I've never done before. I stroked V's arm for a second or two, like I've wanted to so many times before, to show sympathy. She didn't even look at me, didn't even flinch, she probably knew who was touching her. And, seeing how unresponsive, how calm she was about it, I couldn't help but think: "Is this something I could've done this whole time?"

Before the second class with her started, Debate Friend called her a derivative of her first name (though she made sure to say Miss with it), and V just told her not to be rude. Hours pass, and V lets her (and us all, indirectly) call her by her first name, which is something we're still adapting to, but I'm rushing too far ahead, let's slow down a little.

The second class went well, she wasn't crying anymore, on the contrary. We laughed a lot, she told us her honest opinion on a lot of us, who asked her what she thinks of them, and gave advice if needed. I didn't ask. I figured that if she wants to tell me something, she will. Then a very crazy chain of events happened.

She looked like she was gonna tear up again, and I couldn't sit and watch anymore. I stood up and walked right in front of her, not daring to ask for a hug, but hoping she'll get the message with arm gestures. It took her a bit, but when she did, she couldn't help but yell something that I would translate to: "[Specs] is jumping me!". The word she used here is something usually used in a romantic or flirty context. (Translation was never my forte.) You can probably imagine the laughter, and also my face as I realise that not even on her last day could she go without sassing me at least once.

But then. Oh, then. The next thing I hear as I turn towards her is as she says: "C'mere, Little Me." and before I know it, I find myself sobbing in her arms again, and thinking about how this happened. She seemed taken aback by or uncomfortable with the comparison the last time we spoke about it in March, before the quarantine. When did she accept it, or how? Now as I re-read that post, as I'm writing this one... could the turning point have been me calling her my sister? I had so many questions, but all I could do was cry.

Class was nearing the end when I finally managed to stop sobbing and ask her one thing I've been meaning to for ages: what her tattoos mean. "How much should I go into detail?" she asked with sparkling eyes. She wasn't even surprised I knew about the two on her shoulder blades — but I was, when she motioned with her fingers she actually had three. Before telling me about them, she jokingly said something along the lines of "I'm not gonna strip for you" (as all 3 are covered by clothes), and me being me, I immediately threw my hands up, face probably red, and said: "Nononononono, obviously [not]!"

Funny thing is, the two on her shoulder blades are actually quotes from the last book she had us read, the last thing we discussed with her in class on Wednesday. So this is what she meant when she said she had personal connections to it! After she told me which parts they're from, she jokingly added "Very English teacher [of me]...", to which I just laughed and responded "Yeah, very."

By the time I'm writing this, I already had to listen to the headmaster, one of V's replacements, as he bragged about knowing of these two tattoos. Heh. That's cute. It's still 2-1 to me, sir. Not only have I seen them partially before, which you said you haven't, but I also know about the one she most definitely never told you about. And the one I'm most definitely not gonna tell you guys about. Sorry. Some things just have to stay between V and I.

"Also, no one noticed that this is the first time since I came here that I've worn a band T-shirt!" she complains to me jokingly. "Well, I was used to your graphic shirts, so I didn't think much of it," I reply. She's very enthusiastic in telling me what exactly is on it, without me even asking. This woman put on a shirt that essentially disses Christianity — in a religious school. Unbelievable. I love her.

Somewhere around that time, I asked her to let me walk with her to the teacher's lounge, Bookworm Friend convinced her to take a photo with our squad (which had basically everyone I know, my own father included, telling me we look identical), I stroked her arm again (I no longer remember what the reason was, but she still must've felt it pretty natural, seeing she didn't react), and like 3/4 of the class came to hug V goodbye. Meanwhile, another girl I've been classmates with for ages, but never particularly liked, hugged me to try and comfort me. It caught me off-guard, but I've never felt more like our class is a community.

People from other classes came to talk as she walked outside, but I waited until she was alone, and most probably so was she. She promised, likely knowing that I wanted to talk privately, so we didn't leave until it was just the two of us left.

"Come, Little Me," she said again, as we got going. She liked this phrase so much that she repeated it in English. "Mini Me." Then I found out why the English. Turns out, her native English speaker boyfriend, who she name-dropped like it's second nature, as if she's telling a story to a friend (she's so whipped for him, it's adorable), knows all about this comparison, and had a good laugh at it. He knows who I am. I was important enough to mention at home to her boyfriend, something I always wondered about but never dared to ask her. Tears.

No, really, actual tears. I've told you before, I don't support confessing love to your teachers while you're still their student (I'd wait a year after graduation if I were you), and especially if you're underage, and I myself wouldn't do it either. And I didn't. My confession was a little different. My voice breaking from tears, I told her the one thing I wanted her to know most. "This is not how I wanted to tell you, but I've never got more (in life) from anyone..." The answer? The old classic. "Come on."

"[Specs], you really need to get more self-confidence" she tells me, as that's about the only thing I still need to get me where I want to be. "I have to," I reply. And I do. I'm trying. Funny thing, self-confidence. It comes up in both the first and the last conversation we have as student and teacher.

We get up, stand at the top of the stairs. Soon it's time to go. The memories get a bit hazy here, but I'll try my best.

She tells me she expected me to react this way, and was afraid of it, seeing what happened in January. I immediately corrected her. In January, I cried because seeing my classmates hurting and my teachers clueless and lost hurt me, whereas this time, it's personal. She doesn't say anything. I think she understands. I ask her if she'll be happy in this new situation, and she says she hopes so. Only time will tell.

"I probably won't be available at a moment's notice all the time, but if you ever need me, you'll find me," she reassures me.

My English (language) teacher walks outside in that moment, and starts talking to V like I'm not even there. V and I are both a bit uncomfortable with the interruption, but the teacher seems pretty fine with it. Fucking hell, woman, insensitivity much?

Anyway. When she's gone is probably the moment we realise this is it. That this is where it's over.

She reaches out, both verbally and physically, and there we are, hugging again, both of us stroking the other's back in an effort to try and comfort the other. "You always have your friends," she tells me. "Get a good rest," she adds somewhere during that moment. Then we pull away.

I don't reach out, I don't dare to. As soon as I step out of her arms, it's her, who takes a hold of my hand. Not clinging, just a gentle, meaningful hold. I have no idea what she was saying, as I focused on the fact that we were only bloody holding hands in plain sight — and another thing.

V's eyes were red, and full of tears.

She hadn't shed a single tear for the past 20 minutes or so. Yet there she stands before me, physically still holding on to me, and crying. That was all me. And all of a sudden, I understand everything. I no longer have the guts to deny that she loved me all this time.

That's where it ends. No grandiose confessions, nothing loud, nothing overly passionate. Just a scene of two women standing hand-in-hand, showing their true colours and not holding anything back for the first time since they've met, before Miss V, the teacher, forever disappears behind a glass door.

These two women, mentioned above, are the ones who laid the foundation for two friends, two equals to meet anew. They are just getting to know each other all over again as we speak, setting the tone for something to start that could possibly last a long time. And I don't think there's anything that could feel better than that.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

13 notes · View notes

juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years

Text

Homesick (BC)

Genre: Angst, Idol AU

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: Heavy heartbreak

Summary: Home is not always a place because sometimes it is a person. They are the one who have created an unrivalled atmosphere to linger in.

This home was found by an extremely lucky accident and explored in the city of the bridge that might one day fall.

And it hurts like Hell to be cast out of it.

Author’s Note: Based on personal emotions in regards to the cancellation of the SKZ concert in London and this letter. Indeed, this essentially might be a self-indulgent piece, but know there is a clear line between fact and fiction.

And I know exactly which is which.

Masterlist

Lonely.

That is perhaps the best word to describe the feeling of waking up in the morning in the heart of London. Normally, as happened on that miraculous night exactly a year ago, Versace Eros Homme would linger in the sheets and the running shower fill the tranquil Westminster air with the sound of falling water.

Now it is cold.

The tears streaming down the cheeks to stain the sole warm pillow were shed first by him at the first goodbye at Heathrow. Then they could be stopped by the promise of meeting again perhaps during the summer, but that wish had to be postponed due to touring. A new promise was made by agreeing to meet in London, the prospect slightly stilling quivering full lips stuttering out the words “I miss you” to their lucky beloved.

Another dream destroyed.

With a single phone call two months ago.

‘I’m so, so sorry, babygirl. They cancelled the Europe dates for the tour.’ Breaths noticeably became shorter as the consequences of the management’s actions in regards to health and safety sank in. Fingers started to tremble, shaking the phone as well as trying to cover a mouth endeavouring to not sink helplessly to the floor with a broken heart.

But the mutual sadness crashed in simultaneously, distorting the conversation on either side with gasps and sometimes successful attempts at forming words.

‘I- You- I’ve already booked a week- weekend in Lon- London.’

‘Can you,’ composure clearly had to be regained, leaving an interval of a couple of seconds before unsteadily continuing and failing at the first word, ‘can-’

It took a difficult swallow followed by an awkward clearing of the throat to finish the inquiry spoken in a lovely Australian accent, ‘cancel it?’

‘I could. But I- I don’t have the money. I’m still a poor student.’ Breathing in felt like swallowing sandpaper, but the pain was enough to evenly smooth out speech and nullify the sobbing stuttering. ‘So I’m still going.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Westminster, close to Hyde Park.’

‘Which hotel?’ Without hesitating, the name and address were given so Chan could find out where the hotel is located, slender fingers audibly typing on the keyboard of the laptop likely used for composing new songs. After a wee while, a relieved sigh sounded on the other side, voicing approval of the accommodation. ‘Good. That’s a safe neighbourhood. I’m not letting you stay in Stratford again.’

The risk of danger there forcefully removed an ordinary travelling student from the Ibis Hotel, her favourite wolf transferring her to a safer area in the metropolis. Even if it would raise questions among the members and the public if we were to be seen.

None of that mattered.

As long as we were safe from harm.

‘Chan, I... I really don’t wanna go.’ This is where the waterworks really opened and the sobbing began in earnest. ‘Not alone.’

‘You’ve been working hard. Too hard. You deserve a break, babe. Go.’

‘I hope you and the lads will stay safe, I really do. But you can’t expect me to walk the streets without the memory of you. To sit in the coffee corner of the Waterstones at Piccadilly Circus, overlooking the National Gallery without thinking of how I chased you after you kissed me on the cheek in the basement of the shop. How you kissed me in the square in front of the gallery.’

‘Of course I can’t expect that.’ A sad snicker and creaking of the bed told of sitting down like the girl across the pond, on the edge of what cannot be shared. ‘And I would have done it again. Would have- Would have treated you to breakfast, kissed you again, made love to you.’ A rasping breath tore the heart further into fragments, emphasizing the impossibility to reach out and crawl on the lad’s lap to cling to the muscled chest like a koala. ‘I miss you.’

The same words are now repeated to the empty spot, remembered by puffy eyes barely wearing any makeup portrayed in the mirror when preparing to head out for a coffee at a nearby Costa.

Clothes befitting a guest of the four-star hotel are put on without listening to Stray Kids, instead opting for the soundtrack of Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate to remain in a British humour. It is the same music which has been on constant repeat while aimlessly wandering around the city.

Taking strolls in Hyde Park and St. James’s Green.

Hands were entwined while exploring lush green and by the waterside, enjoying an impromptu picnic with food from the nearest Tesco or Sainsbury’s.

Walking the length of the Victoria Embankment and parliament district.

Chan offered the last of his water against the warmth, unwavering in his argument that it should be allowed to take care of a significant other regardless of personal costs. However, to repay the kindness, the little wolf acted rapidly to make sure the order of two lemon ciders was paid before her taller counterpart could draw a debit card when retreating from the heat in a cooled cafe.

Surveying art in galleries.

The ancient conflicts between a modernist and classicist somehow found their way into the relationship early, though neither of us actually knew what we were futilely howbeit amusingly ranting about.

Browsing in the various bookshops.

The kangaroo boy did not allow way less muscles arms to carry the various paperbacks that were collected when not grabbing a title from the top shelves for a girl with small people problems.

Hiding the secret tears fading in the shadows of Camden Lock, covering themselves with the unique fashion and amazing food to be found there.

The personal serving of cookie dough had to be shared because a hungry buff koala with a slight sweet tooth could not stop stealing bites.

Reminiscent of that devastating phone call.

‘I miss you.’

The three little words whispered to oneself over a large cup of cappuccino while looking out over the square where it happened a little less than a year ago.

What luck had found two souls.

What tragedy has befallen them.

‘I hope you’re okay.’ A hand wipes away the stray tear leaving a salty trail over skin, nose turning runny and teeth biting down on the lower lip when the absence across the table becomes tangible. Outside, the umbrellas have one another as they trod the grey pavements beneath the gloomy heaven. The books on the shelves are nestled against each other, the way panting lovers cuddled after their first time together and multiple intense rounds after until the evening of parting came.

Initiating hiatus.

London rain.

A broken promise.

‘I hope all of you are.’

Weary feet eventually leave the seat by the window after drinking what will likely result in a caffeine overdose. On the way to the underground, a stop is made at the nearby Sainsbury’s to buy a cheap three pounds meal deal. A student on a budget and low-calorie diet has to survive somehow and fortunately, if lucky, the convenience store offers what is wanted for a low price. Thus, with a bottle of water, fruit salad and egg salad sandwich alongside a couple of protein bars, the journey to the hotel is continued.

Vision becomes more and more watery as the stuffy underground station is left behind, slowly coming closer to the temporary accommodation that was supposed to be shared.

‘Why are you crying?’ A familiar voice that sounds like low purring when drowsy makes dark Puma sneakers turn around on the glistening marble tiles, overjoyed with the sound of home. Pale strong arms smelling of a romantic Italian holiday and dusted by thin black hairs pull the waist into a tight embrace as a thumb wipes away the droplets gracing skin. Love shines bright is warm chocolate eyes refusing to tear up in joy too. ‘Hey, babygirl.’

That is what wants to be heard.

Seen.

Felt.

But all there is, is the chic lobby.

The posh elevator leading up.

The cold sheets of the empty bed.

A lonely room.

And the unheard cries of a broken heart.

‘Fuck, I miss you.’

#Stray Kids #SKZ #Bangchan fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Chris Bang

32 notes · View notes