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coupleoffanfics · 3 months

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teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis reader #yandere batfam #God damn you anon #you beautiful bastard #I'll clean this up later when I sleep #x reader #x batsis reader

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feroluce · 2 months

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Thinking tonight about Caelus, and the nature of his loss and his grief after the Everything that went down in Penacony during 2.0.

Because Acheron, Black Swan, and Misha kind of knew of Firefly, they at least met her, but they didn't like really know her, and Caelus never even got the chance to introduce her to the rest of the Astral Express Crew. The only person who would have talked to her much was Sparkle, who is. Probably not really someone Caelus is interested in grieving with skznmsks

Anyway, all this to say, I like thinking about how alone poor Caelus is in his grief, because he was the only one who knew Firefly. He's the only one really mourning her. There's no one to talk about her with. There's no stories to trade or memories to reminisce with anyone over. It's not as though he knew her for long, but still. No one else knew her at all.

And I love the thought of all of this coming bubbling up, hot and acidic and bitter, during a conversation with Sampo, who Caelus just so happens to run into in the Golden Hour. Poor Sampo is kinda blindsided, he knew shit was going down in Penacony, but yeesh. And he just. Isn't quite sure what to say about it all, because he's never really encountered this before. His feelings about the Masked Fools are...a mixed bag, but he's been a part of them for a very long time, and when you're with a close organization like that, it's hard to feel alone, in grief or otherwise.

So Sampo sits there on their little bench that the two of them have occupied, and he thinks of his old friend April, how she'd died in his arms cackling and spitting her own blood after a heist gone wrong, and how after he'd dragged himself back to the World's End Tavern they'd all held a Fool's Funeral- which is basically just a big party where everyone gets really really drunk and reminisces and toasts the dead and celebrates their life.

He still thinks about her a lot, and he remembers how the time he'd most keenly felt her absence was on Jarilo-VI, the one place where he couldn't talk about her because he couldn't say anything to give himself away as an alien. The Fools still tell stories about her every time he goes back to the Tavern. His first toast of the night is always in her name. Even now, all these years after she'd died, Sampo is still learning new things about her. He's never had to grieve her alone.

Caelus doesn't have any of that.

He might never have that. As they speak, Caelus has no proof that Firefly was even her real name, or if she dreamt with her true appearance. He might not ever find out who she even was.

And just imagining that kind of loneliness hollows out a strange little pit, right behind his sternum, deep between his ribs.

So Sampo claps Caelus' shoulder and offers him a deal. Come find him outside of the dream. He knows a guy who can get them a lot of beer for really cheap-

("Is that guy you and your five finger discounts?" "Whatever do you mean, dear friend, I don't even know the meaning of the phrase, hehee.")

-and they can hole up in a bar or a hotel room or something, and get completely shitcanned. Tell him all about Firefly, tell him everything, and he'll tell Caelus about April and everyone else he's ever lost. Sampo will carry Caelus' memories of Firefly with him, and at least this way, Caelus will be a little less alone in remembering her. And the next time they cross paths, Sampo will be the one to bring her up, and to tell her stories, and Caelus can get to be the one listening. He won't have to be the only person to talk about her anymore.

Caelus rolls his eyes when Sampo avoids another remark about sticky fingers, but...ok, yeah. That sounds good. Nice, even. Thank you. Caelus bumps his shoulder against Sampo's. Sampo bumps back.

(They find each other again the next day, and true to their word, get themselves completely and utterly shitcanned. Caelus talks more than Sampo has ever heard him; every minute detail, every word choice, Firefly's every odd little mannerism and habit. Because Caelus wants to make sure this will outlive him, that even if the Stellaron dwelling within him finally burns him to a crisp and he really does up and kick the bucket, or even, godforbid, if he forgets, he wants to make sure someone remembers her. She deserved that.)

((And it takes quite a while, after that. Caelus doesn't see Sampo again until after everything has settled down. On his last day in Penacony, he finds the guy slinking out of a seedy back alley and all but runs right into him. Sampo happily leads him to some dive bar in an even seedier back alley that Caelus has never even heard of, and Sampo raises his glass. "To Firefly! Who sounds like she probably would have hated me at first, but I would have liked to have met her anyway."

And Caelus stares at him, almost looking startled, long enough that Sampo worries that he's read him wrong and brought this up too soon. He's halfway into planning how to talk himself out of this situation when Caelus finally throws back his head back and laughs, tells him that yeah, Firefly would have politely called him out on every lie he told, and all their conversations would take twice as long with the way Sampo is so full of shit.

And he can see it, the same way he watches and sees through everyone, that Caelus' eyes have a tightness to them, his knuckles are nearly white around the handle of his mug. But he smiles. He hits his glass against Sampo's far too hard and throws it back and gets foam everywhere like he does every time they drink because the guy's about as elegant as a raging bull, but those things don't lessen the genuineness of his smile.

The grief is there, but so is the elation, and those emotions aren't a sliding scale between one or the other. It is all of both and both at once, and that's what contents Sampo enough to throw his own mug back when Caelus makes a toast of his own, "to April!!".))

#caelus #sampo koski #hsr caelus #hsr sampo #sampo & caelus #honkai star rail #hsr #my fics #me a few days ago: my favorite silly little guys uwu #me today: ANGST #honestly I feel like this isn't even a super strong angst though #it's more just. bittersweet? melancholic? something.#I JUST. REALLY LOVE STORIES ABOUT THE NATURE OF GRIEF #and 2.0 laid the groundwork for that beautifully woohoo #I just remembered this probably isn't common knowledge oops but April is the cute red haired girl in Funny Bone #her name was revealed by the creators on twitter. she's named April like April Fools!#anyway I ship it hardcore now thanks bucket boi & studio #but anyway yes I love and adore the loneliness of the trailblazer's loss and grief after 2.0 #because we know from Sunday that Firefly is “spiritually dead” but the trailblazer wouldn't have that knowledge #and they wouldn't know her identity or about any of her connections to other people #and I love that juxtaposed against Sampo and the possible strange nature of his own grief-#-given how the Masked Fools operate and how they see Elation in everything and everywhere #Sampo is no saint- like at all lol- but I do like him and Caelus getting along and being bros #and I don't think it would be terribly ooc for him to care about someone he sees as a genuine friend #he maybe rarely considers someone a genuine friend. but still dmxjjdjdk #listening to Sam's boss theme as I tag this... have been listening to it a lot ever since I finished 2.0 tbh #it's probably what inspired a lot of this haha #because it does sound strong and intimidating and imposing #but you can hear it #the heartbreak

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differenteagletragedy · 6 months

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RIP MC (Sorry Derek)

Another little story where the MC died and one (or more) of the boys feels sad. Could this turn into a series where MC dies in various ways and the other characters feel feelings about it? Yeah, maybe!

Takes place anytime after Step 3. Unrequited love, unnamed illness, funeral setting. Very sad Derek.

It was never the right time.

That's what Derek always told himself. Someday when things were different -- when he was different, when he was better -- then he'd take a chance. That's when he'd let himself admit how he felt about you. He'd tell you he loved you then.

Countless moments had popped up over the years since that first summer that might have worked. A quiet moment on the beach by your house, a summer soiree while the two of you were dressed to the nines. A school dance he'd invited you to, "just as friends" even though he wanted so much more.

He had so many opportunities to just tell you how he felt, to take a risk on the chance you might feel the same way, but he was never good enough for you, not even close.

It was only when it became clear that he'd run out of time that he really started to sit down and think about all those lost chances.

"I'll be ok," you always told him when he came to visit you in the hospital, a smile on your face for him despite the tubes in your body, the constant hums and beeps of the machines a constant soundtrack to his trips there. You'd always hold his hand, and sometimes it made him sick to think about how he let you comfort him, even then, when he should have been stronger.

Derek did think about confessing, even after things got bad. He tried to work out whether you'd want to know, if it would bring you some comfort or just add awkwardness or confusion in an already difficult time. Sometimes he let himself picture telling you, then you telling him that you loved him too, and then you'd get better and you'd be together, so on and so forth, happily ever after.

But that's not how it happened.

Things were already bad, but they got worse fast, and before he could make a decision about telling you, you were gone.

"Derek? You all right?"

He was brought back to the present -- something he sincerely did not appreciate, but was of course too polite to ever mention -- by Nicolas' hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his little brother, looking like some bizarre alternate universe version of himself in a dark suit with his hair tamed as best it could be.

It didn't feel right. Then again, nothing did.

"Yeah," Derek answered automatically, eyes glancing around the funeral home. He saw his parents talking to Cove's father, all serious faces and quiet voices. There was Liz by the casket, eyes dry but fierce -- the protective older sister, even now. Your moms were nearby too, huddled close together. Cove was there as well, he'd heard, but based on the muffled sound of wails coming from an adjacent room, it seemed like he'd excused himself.

"Hey, bros," Jorge said, coming up to place a hand on Derek's other shoulder. "How's it going?"

He tried to give a smile to his other little brother, but he couldn't imagine he succeeded.

"Did you want ..." Jorge began, stopping himself before he got a full sentence out. He gave his head a little shake, then stood a little straighter and asked "Did you want to go up there?"

Derek looked back toward the casket. He hadn't been able to approach it, not yet, and he wasn't sure if he would. It may be nice to see your face one more time, even if what made you you was no longer there. Then again, it may be too hard to take.

Reasoning that the entire day was too hard to take -- hell, existence felt too hard to take at this point -- and that if worse came to worst, he'd at least have Cove to keep him company if he lost it entirely, he gave another shaky smile to Jorge and began moving towards the coffin.

He wasn't sure what he expected to feel upon seeing you like that, but whatever he could have imagined, it was so much more than that. You were too pale, too still, and if he touched you, he was sure you'd be way, way too cold.

His eyes moved over your body, taking in individual parts and cataloging them in the most heartbreaking ways possible. Your eyelids, closed shut, never to flutter open again. Your hands folded over your stomach -- stiff, he was sure. Then he looked at your lips and started to understand, really understand, that he'd never see them smiling for him again.

Because they did -- you did. Smile just for him. Even at his absolute lowest, when he hated himself so much he couldn't stand it, he knew that. That you liked him. Maybe not in the same way he liked you, but he couldn't deny that you, his favorite person on the planet, had seen a least a little something special in him.

His stomach clenched, his hands balled into fists, and he did one of the things that he did best, literally and metaphorically -- he ran.

Not hearing the questions or remarks as his family called out to him, not noticing concerned looks from your other friends, Derek bolted out of the funeral home. He was wearing a suit and stiff dress shoes, but he flew down the street. If his feet started aching or his muscles started protesting his pace, he didn't notice.

He wasn't thinking, not really, and eventually he found himself in the park, running to the field you'd played in when you were kids. He kept running to the tree line and went past it, letting himself get a little bit lost before he came to a stop, leaned his head back and screamed.

Derek held things in -- it was just what he did. But there in the trees, he let everything out. The shattering grief, the loss of everything he might have had with you but never would. All the things he never said, all the opportunities he let slip by because it could happen later, there would always be more time.

Eventually he stopped. His throat was shredded and he started feeling the strain on his body. He waited a little while, certain someone had called the police, but none ever showed. He considered going back, assuring his family he was all right, but for once, he decided to be selfish and sat down on the ground, taking a little longer for himself.

He had no idea what life was going to look like now. He felt sad and scared, like the rug had been pulled out from under him, and then he felt guilty for feeling that way when everyone else had lost you too.

Those old feelings of self hatred started sneaking in, and he leaned into them, content to soak in the misery he was feeling.

After all, the future he'd dreamed of, the one he'd worked so hard for for so much of his life -- the one with you front and center -- was impossible. So really, what was the point of any of it?

#olba #our life beginnings and always #olba mc #cove holden #olba cove #our life #derek suarez #derek x reader #derek x mc #our life derek

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kassiekole22 · 1 year

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A Sign From Above

Description: You attend Josh's funeral to try to find some closure after witnessing his death. While alone with his casket, you decide to confess your love for him. And to your surprise, you learn that the feeling is mutual in a very special way. Warnings: Angst, Pining, Mention Of Character Death. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This fic is inspired by the song Lifetime by Three Days Grace. While listening to this song, I want you to close your eyes and imagine being completely in love with someone. So in love that you would do anything for them. But you are afraid to confess your feelings to them because you don't want to lose what you already have. But one day, a fatal accident happens and takes them away completely. What you could have someday had is now gone and will never come back. This is what this fic is about. If you love someone, let them know. Because you never know what the future holds for the both of you. MasterList: 🖤 Josh's Angels: @lorebite, @yellowroses-world, @house-of-kolchek, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @mornandil, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

The weather was a lot warmer in California compared to the harsh winters in the mountains in Alberta. Even then, it was as if the season had stopped there as well since that day. It hadn't snowed, only rained. Much like my eyes. It was as if the sky was grieving with me. I never expected that my next visit to America would be for this. Hell, nothing like this happening had ever crossed my mind.

We stood all gathered around the dark reddish-brown coffin as the priest said a prayer. The only sounds heard, aside from his saddened voice, was the soft breeze brushing through the branches of trees and the broken sobs of the people around me, blending in with the sounds of my own. The air felt thick and the energy was dark, depressing, exactly what you would expect at a funeral. But this felt different. This felt as if my whole world was falling down, as if my chest was collapsing and taking my weak heart with it, as if my future no longer meant anything to me...

The others watched me every now and then. Chris and Sam mostly. They were the ones who were most aware of my feelings for Josh. I knew they were only concerned for my well-being but I hated when people seen me cry or stared at me at all. My eyes wandered the crowd until they met with another pair of familiar faces: Mr. And Mrs. Washington. Mrs. Washington was completely broken down in tears while Mr. Washington held her close to him, clearly struggling to keep it together himself. My heart broke for them. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of losing your two daughters and then losing your son a year after.

The funeral carried out and everybody stepped away from the coffin, allowing the Washingtons one final moment with their son and instead of going over to our parked cars to group up with my friends, like we had planned, I went and leaned against a tree that was away form the others, closing my eyes and trying to pretend I wasn't there. I was trying to pretend that I was with him again, watching as many movies as we could fit into one night. But those happy thoughts were only drowned out by the disturbing sounds of his screams in agony when Hannah crushed his skull.

I was unfortunate enough to be there and see it. And now the sight, sounds and regret will be engraved in my mind for the rest of my life to haunt me like a twisted revenant of my ever so terrifying past. I hated myself for freezing in fear and not doing anything even though deep down I know that if I did, my family would most likely be spending today the same way the Washingtons were.

I opened my eyes again as I felt the way too familiar feeling of tears pricking the backs of them like tiny needles, asking for release. I swallowed thickly, not wanting to cry again. I didn't know how I hadnt cried all my tears our since all I did for the last week was cry. I looked back over to his coffin and took notice that he was now left alone. I hesitated for a moment before heaving a deep sigh and heading in the direction that a part of me so badly didn't want to be near again. But I needed to do this. I needed the closure.

I approached the side of his coffin and stared down at it in silence, watching the pretty bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums and purple hyacinth set on top of it's lid. It reminded me of him. The chrysanthemums reminded me of pure joy and happiness, completely full of life like he once was. But the hyacinths reminded me of something more sorrowful. At first glance, all I could notice was the bright and lively chrysanthemums. But though the hyacinths were overpowered by the brightness of the chrysanthemums at first sight, I could still them hidden within the bouquet, almost seemly purposely hidden. The longer I looked at the bouquet, the more I realized that it was him. Happiness hiding the sorrow. I should have known that behind every person standing in the sun, there's a shadow.

"Josh..." I whispered his name and it felt as if a hand had wrapped around my heart and attempted to squeeze any last bit of joy out of it. "I-I'm so sorry..."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you... From yourself or your fate..." I felt the tears finally begin to fall as I whispered my apologies. "I'm sorry I was too much of a pussy to tell you how I felt..."

I stopped for a moment, thinking back to that moment in the shed. All of those things he said to me, Mike and Chris echoed through my mind. I knew he didn't mean those words. But it still haunted me.

"All of those things you said to Chris that day, you should have been saying it to me. I'm an idiot for not telling you how I feel. Maybe if I did, it would have changed things and you'd still be here. I was stupid and now I have to live with the consequences; the consequences of not being yours and the consequences of losing you... The consequences of never telling you that I love you..." I heaved another sigh while trying so desperately hard to keep it together even though I was failing my battle for strength. "Maybe in another life, I'll get that chance again. Or maybe not. But the only way I'll survive is if I hang on to that little bit of hope, no matter how hard it may be..."

I stepped a bit closer and placed a soft kiss to the tips of my fingers before placing them on the dark mahogany wood before me. I closed my eyes, allowing my finger tips to linger on the cold surface and suddenly, the dark energy around me melted into something peaceful. It was like a warm embrace from a close friend had covered me like a fuzzy blanket after hours of being out in the cold. I opened my eyes to see a butterfly gracefully fluttering towards me. Subconsciously, I reached my hand out and to my surprise, the butterfly gently landed in my palm. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves to stop my hand from shaking. And that's when an old memory began to play in my mind...

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I jumped at the sound of Josh's voice, breaking me from my thoughts. I spun around and heaved a sigh of relief, feeling glad that it was him and not some psycho.

"Just looking at those two butterflies." I said as I turned back around and pointed to the two little butterflies, fluttering around in the distance.

"You mean to tell me, you've been watching those butterflies this whole time?" He said with an amused chuckle while the corners of his lips turned up into a smile as he approached my side. I rolled my eyes playfully while trying to repress a smile of my own.

"What? They're so peaceful to watch. Look at them, fluttering around without a care in the world." I sighed as I watched the pair in the sky. "Watching them makes me feel at peace with everything. Some say that seeing butterflies means that somebody is sending you a sign from heaven. So, seeing them makes me feel like everything will be ok, y'know?"

Josh let out another quiet chuckle beside me as he shook his head and I turned to give him a cold glare. "What?"

"Ah, nothing." He continued to laugh and I shoved his shoulder. "No, it's cute. Really."

"Suuuure." I rolled my eyes while sighing. Though he didn't say anything, I knew what he was thinking. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was dumb. But even if a belief that seemed as childish as butterflies sent from heaven is what gave me comfort during hard times, I was going to hang onto it no matter what.

"Come on. Let's get back to the lodge before the others think we're dead." He giggled while placing his hand on my shoulder lightly.

"Yeah." I muttered softly, taking one last glance at the two butterflies before turning around and following Josh back to the lodge.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"He knows!" I gasped quietly when I came to from my memory. It had to be a sign from him. It was too much of a coincidence. It had to be him letting me know that he knew that I loved him. Maybe even saying that he loved me too? That's what I wanted to believe. I watched the butterfly in my hand, studying the subtle movements of it's beautiful wings while another set of tears fell down my cheeks.

The butterfly stayed with me for a few minutes longer before fluttering away into the sky. I watched while it parted from my hand and flew gracefully in the distance as the clouds broke apart and the sun finally began to shine. My heart began to feel full again as I imagined him in heaven with Hannah and Beth, watching over me and finally being free of the demons that locked him in the darkness when he was alive. Realizing this helped to restore my faith in the afterlife and knowing that I'd someday be reunited with him on the other side finally made my mind feel at ease and for the first in a while, I genuinely smiled...

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

#until dawn #josh washington #josh washington x reader #KassieUntilDawnFanFics

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poisonandpages · 20 days

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Imagine you are a conservative catholic and you had your silly slutty phase when you were younger, but now you're ready to settle down and start your "holier than thou" era of life where you're cruel and judgemental to everybody else, never a kind word to say, despite the fact that you yourself are a sadistic person who never grew past being a bully in high school and decided to go into nursing where you'd find more vulnerable people to abuse. You have an older sister who's more or less the exact same, but you're slightly dumber.

Imagine your younger sister, a genuinely kind person, marries a man that you despise. Not for any of the valid reasons to criticise him, but because he's both a protestant and an outspoken person who will call you out when you say something objectively wrong. He does not blindly go along with everything you say like your own husband, and so you hate him.

Imagine you hate this man so much that as your sister is dying you and your other sister steal most of his property from her house and try to tamper with your dying sister's will to essentially steal their children. Not because you care for them and want to look after them, purely to spite the husband. Imagine you scowl at him throughout the funeral, not caring that his daughter is right beside him watching her mother be buried.

Imagine when you don't get custody of the children you convince him to let you, your sister, and your mother take the children a few days a week, ostensibly to keep them close to their mother's family, but really to abuse them in multiple ways including heavy psychological abuse - again, just to spite this one man.

Imagine these kids grown into teens and stop talking to you one by one as they realise how fucked up the situation is. Imagine the eldest one hasn't spoken to you in ten years.

Imagine around the same time these kids stop talking you, you realise you've spent all this time neglecting your own children, one of whom has fallen into heavy drug use and gotten another teen pregnant.

Imagine the baby's mother ODs and your own child is struggling so much with addiction care of the baby falls to you.

Imagine your own brother hangs himself because he suffered greatly from the death of his own wife and felt completely detached from everyone else. He couldn't possibly talk to you. He didn't trust you. But at the funeral you pretend you were best friends. From the other side of the hall your dead sister's children look at you with disgust. Your dead brother's children ignore you completely.

Imagine your child that gave you a grandchild comes out as transgender, but you don't accept that so you act as though they've died instead.

Imagine ten years after your sister's children stopped speaking to you, you realise your family has gotten a lot smaller and your mother may be dying, so you try to reach out to them. No apology, no acknowledgement of the time passed, no thought that maybe since they are all now adults between 22 - 30 they'll have a better understanding of what they were put through and why they're still struggling to recover from it years later, just a casual reach out as though you're old friends who haven't been able to catch up in a while. You don't even use your own social media profile, you borrow your daughter's. You invite them to your grandson's communion ceremony at the church they all still have trauma from because that was also part of the abuse that YOU and your family made them endure.

Are you struggling to imagine someone so cruel and stupid? I would too, if she weren't my own aunt.

#tw suicide #tw child abuse #personal #long post #tw OD #this is a very condensed version of everything #the details are just too much #but I had to vent this out because I am so very angry #I broke down crying last night out of sheer rage #like how dare she? after everything? how fucking dare she speak to me as though we're friends #hey everybody welcome to Auntie Anna's Tragic Backstory Extravaganza #making vent posts because the other option is breaking furniture #K in the unlikely event this post makes its way to you somehow I hope you get hit by a truck & your grandson winds up somewhere much better

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stnaf-vn · 2 years

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Did Friend show jealousy throughout childhood then? If he knew the MC since elementary school and they grew up together, did he have a healthier view on his and MC's relationship before college?

How does he separate love and friendship?

(Get ready for a long lore storytime!)

Friend has had to look out for himself since the beginning. When his sisters were born, he basically raised them. His parents were extremely neglectful, and were never home. When they were home... it just wasn't a good time.

Could you imagine? Just a tiny kid, who refused to rely on anyone but himself.

But then, you were there. You talked to him, you treated him as a person and not some stray cat. And no matter how many times he tried to push you away, you didn't budge, not even a little bit.

When his family died, you were there. You were there, at that empty funeral, and you cried with him.

You gave him a home, when his was broken.

And when you two were apart because of your idiot ex, it hurt. It hurt him so bad. He would've been okay if you two stayed friends, but you abandoned him! Just like everyone else did! He delved into partying and alcohol and so much terrible shit to try and forget about you, but nothing worked.

He wanted to hate you, but he just couldn't.

When you two broke up, he was there. Even though you abandoned him, he came back! And he swore on that day, when you were crying into his chest, that he'd never let anyone hurt you. He knows what's best for you. He's always been good at taking care of others, he can do it for you too! He'll keep you safe, and secure, and no one better get close to you.

But he didn't know why he felt that way. He's never experienced such a connection before, so he doesn't know what to do! It took years of research, right up to your graduation, for him to finally realize what this all means: he loved you. (Here’s a post I made that’s a continuation : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/itsyaboi-43/689151017491857408?source=share)

The distinction between just being possessive and actual love is very thin when it comes to Friend, but he knows what he feels. He's never felt this way before! Ever!

(I hope that answers your question, Anon!)

#seethruneedafriend #yandere #18+#friend

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mx-lamour · 3 months

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Hauntings of the Mind

Some personal meta/background for Bloodstain/"It's all right." (and that last sonnet):

My best friend and guardian died when I was 8-1/2 years old. At night, before I fell asleep, I would usually see him walk past my door, doing his rounds of the house to make sure everything was as it should be.

I watched him die. It wasn't my hand that killed him, wasn't even my choice to make, but somehow I felt responsible. It wasn't even my first dead body, or even my first dead loved one, but it was the first time I'd witnessed the spark of life leave someone's eyes. The first time I'd felt the breath leave someone's body under my touch and not come back.

When I tell you my best friend and guardian was a cat, it doesn't matter. When I tell you he was 18 years old and ready to go, it doesn't matter.

I bargained with whatever god would listen to give him back to me. He wasn't even mine; he'd been my dad's best friend since he was a kitten. My pleas went unanswered.

My mom has told me her story of taking care of her father through his struggle with cancer. There came a point when it was clear he was never going to make it, but it was near Christmas time, and my grandpa was a stubborn fiend who refused to die on what was supposed to be a joyful occasion.

When January came, my mom bravely went to him and said, "It's okay, Dad. You can go now."

That was my first funeral. I was two years old then. And, according to my mom, I wouldn't leave the casket's side. This explains why I have such a vivid memory of looking down on my grandpa's waxlike hands holding a red rose. My grandpa loved roses. He tended them.

That's beside the point.

Around the time I was 13, I started having dreams that someday I would have to kill my romantic partner, whoever that would be. It wasn't so self-direct. I was a daydreamer and a reader of books, so I would make up stories. But sometimes they were only scenes.

And one of those scenes which plagued me was the image of someone kissing their lover, then stabbing him in the gut. They didn't want to do it; they had to. Tears streaking down their face, they apologized while the dying one looked on in shock.

I never really made the connection as to why.

Now, I'm married to a man who is nearly always struggling. He's chronically ill and terribly intelligent and horribly depressed. Inside of all that muck is a sweet, imaginative little boy who long ago lost his brother and his faith in all things. Now a grown man, he's also practical. Pessimistic. A bit obsessive-compulsive. He DM'd our Curse of Strahd campaign.

We both fear abandonment.

When his thoughts have taken a dark turn, as they sometimes do, he considers giving himself over to death. To not have to try anymore.

Early on, this terrified me. "But I'm here," I would think, never realizing my mistake, that it had never helped before.

And sometimes that image would come back to me unbidden: Would I have to kill him myself one day? If I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting himself, but if there was also little choice left in the matter, would I do the work for him, to retain some modicum of agency in our doomed relationship? There seemed to be little else I could do.

This was, of course, very distorted thinking. And I never did do that thing, and I suspect we never will go through that. We're getting better. And we're changing side-by-side.

But there were several times, probably yearly if I would have been keeping track, possibly close to the anniversary of his brother's death, when I wondered if and when I would be forced to put the man I love out of his misery.

Because I know what grief is. And I know regret, and rage, and despair. I know it hurts. And I know it's exhausting. I know.

And with the amount of perseveration that goes on in my anxious autistic head (or did, especially before I'd done any real healing, myself) I know that the inability to fix your own tragic mistakes, to correct for factors you couldn't have known about is devastating.

I know how an event can haunt you into eternity, throwing you into a repeat of that same moment, again and again, from something so little as the passing of a number on a calendar page, and still leave you bereft of any real closure.

The window glass is so horrifying because, even though you can see tragedy unfolding on the other side, there is little you can do about what you cannot touch, whether what you're reaching for is the past itself or the despair clouding another person's mind and heart.

#lamour stories #personal anecdote #gothic #dark powers #gothic romance #curse of strahd #backstory #creative writing #fanfic writing #i strahd #psychology #thought distortions #grief #death #write what you know

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 2 years

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because I couldn't get the idea of person to person blood transfusions out of my head...

tw- blood, needles

Cassandra hears her heart beating in her ears as she runs from the castle to the temple. Lady Cassandra, your brother is...he's hurt. He's in the temple. Before the guard had even finished his sentence, Cassandra was pushing past him and sprinting out of the castle. Percival is her last family member, if he dies then she'll really be alone.

At least she would be able to have a funeral for him, to bury him properly.

Those macabre thoughts run rampant in Cassandra's mind, growing louder with every footfall on the dirt road. When she gets to the temple, Cassandra doesn't waste time in throwing open the doors. She doesn't care that anyone inside might see her with unkempt hair and dirty shoes.

"Oh god, where is he? Is he alright?" She asks in a rush. All of her brother's friends stand at the front of the room, their faces filled with horror and grief. And lying motionless in front of them is Percy, blood covering his clothes and skin. Cassandra freezes halfway up the aisle, unable to move a step closer, she looks to Vex'ahlia, "Is he...?"

The half-elf, tears in her eyes walks over to Cassandra, gently taking her hands, "He's still alive, barely. Come here." Vex puts an arm around her shoulders and slowly walks Cassandra towards Percival, where Pike is illuminating his features with her golden magic.

Cassandra sinks to her knees beside him, taking her brother's hand. "Pike," she says, voice thick with tears. Her eyes don't waver from Percy's hand, his heartbeat so weak under her fingers. "Why can't you heal him?"

Pike swallows heavily, "He's lost too much blood, magic isn't as potent."

Cassandra doesn't hesitate before saying, "Take mine." Her eyes flash up to meet Pike's. "Give him some of my blood, you're a cleric, don't you know how to do that?"

Pike nods, "But, Cassandra, it can be really dangerous-"

"I don't care." Cassandra lets go of Percy's hand only to roll her sleeve above her elbow, exposing her veins. "He's my brother, I will not let him die."

She feels Vex's hand on her back, "Darling, you don't have to-"

"Yes I do." She looks to Pike, "Please. Let me help him."

Pike looks at her for just a moment before nodding and reaching for her bag, "Tell me if you start feeling faint, I'll stop the line." Cassandra nods. She looks away as Pike cleans the skin on her arm and slowly sinks the needle into her vein. Cassandra doesn't even flinch, a needle is far from the worst thing that's ever taken her blood.

As Pike inserts the other needle into Percy's arm and Cassandra's blood starts to seep from her arm into the line into Percy, Cassandra thinks about Sylas. For years, he stole her blood against her will, hypnotizing her at the beginning. And when she was too tired to fight, he only had to say a word for her to offer him her neck.

For so long her blood was used to sustain the worst man she had ever know, now it's being used to save the most important man in the world to Cassandra.

She doesn't know how long she kneels like that on the stone floor, holding her brother's hand, watching his face for any hint of change. Vex is beside her, nervously watching the two of them and when Cassandra start to get pale, she kneels beside her and puts an arm around her.

"Pike," Vex says softly, "she's getting pretty pale."

Cassandra shakes her head, "Not yet, it's fine." To her, it is. Her eyelids don't even feel heavy like they did when Sylas would drink too much, she's not about to pass out.

"It's not." Pike walks over and very gently takes Cassandra's arm and pulls out the needle. "Vex, can you-"

"Already on it." Vex pulls Cassandra into her arms, letting her lean against her chest as she casts a minor healing spell over her. As exhaustion runs through her body and Vex rubs her back, Cassandra's looks at Percy. She can't tell if it's her imagination, but his breathing seems stronger.

And when Pike kneels beside him and golden, healing light washes over him and his eyes fly open with a gasp. Until now, Cassandra hadn't realized how tight her lungs had felt, but seeing her brother alive drains all the anxiety from her as she pries herself from Vex's arms.

She hugs her brother tight, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhales the scent of blood and gunpowder and sweat.

"Cass?" He asks softly, his hands wrapping around her back. "What..."

"You're in Whitestone, darling," Vex tells him, moving so that he can see her. "Everything's alright."

Percy's arms tighten around Cassandra and she takes a deep breath again. She didn't lose her brother today, it's because of her that he's alive. And as she forces herself to pull away from him so his friends can crowd around him, she rolls down her sleeve so Percy can't see the dot of blood on her arm.

#my fic #critical role #vox machina #cassandra de rolo

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rayofsunas · 3 years

Text

s/o who dies.

A/n: listennnn, I wasn't going to write something dark, but then I unregretfully decided to listen to edgy/dark audios and I was suddenly in the mood to write this so yeah lmao. also, guess what? I'm planning on making a discord server right after posting this! so, be on the lookout for that when I get it all sorted out. also, note for Scaramouche's that the reader inserts tend to lean more femininely versed (I hope that's okay), the only reasons why I do that is because one I simp and I'm female AND two since I am doing a mini-series for Scara, I've kind of based his imagines/fics around that universe (baby daddy universe). I haven't started his yet, but consider these part of that series' universe. anyways as always thank you for requesting anon and enjoy! <333

Summary: you die + how the boys cope afterward.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, death, poison, illness/cancer, murder, arson, obsessive behavior

Word count: 2.1k

Albedo

"You need to keep this on your head." Your lover said for the one-hundredth time, placing the cold cloth on your forehead once again after taking it off only seconds earlier.

"This is pointless," You said, no longer wanting to ignore nor hide behind the invisible thick curtains of the obvious death sentence approaching. "My body rejected the medicine the first twice doses, what's a third time going to do?" You asked, knowing Albedo wouldn't answer; your hope was to knock some sense into his thick skull. but he was too worried trying to ignore the obvious as you had previously been doing, not anymore though.

This was saddening to watch, both Albedo's unfolding and the girl who accidentally poisoned you, whimpering into Sucrose's shoulder. She was only a young girl, barely seventeen when she was chosen to work under Sucrose and your boyfriend. She was very good at Alchemy and luckily had a desire to practice the craft. But unfortunately, she hadn't paid much attention when it came to Surcrose's educational poison lesson and had unknowingly mixed up poisonous liquids and materials.

After tipping over some clutter in Albedo's office and knocking over a test tube laying unsealed on the counter, you had realized the contents spilled on your skin, bleaching into your pores. You had been tasked with bringing the famed alchemist and his assistant some vials and materials for the collection of a rare butterfly they had found. It was both telling and obvious that something was wrong when you never showed up with the required materials requested and it was already too late hours later when the chief Alchemist, his assistant, and Alchemist in training came bounding down the stairs of Albedo's home laboratory.

It didn't take long for the trio to realize something was wrong. Sucrose had found the vile on the floor, most of its contents spilled and in a little puddle, plus your state on a nearby lounge chair was obvious; slumped awkwardly, forehead visibly sweating, eyes closed, breathing raspily.

You accepted the first doses of the supposed nullifying medicine without hesitation, just wanting the numbing feeling to go away. But when it never kicked in you decided it would be best to save the medicine, because it wasn't working. Your time was coming.

"Since the medicine is taking immediate effect, you should try to get the contents out of your system," He said, reaching out for you. Badly you wanted to argue that the medicine wasn't working at all, but he wasn't listening and already has his lean arms wrapped around your middle, helping gently lift and guide you over to the sink.

You hear materials being shoved to the side and soon enough you had your head dangling over the sink, shaking hands gripping the metalled edge tightly. Soon enough, Albedo's hand was on your back rubbing up and down, hoping to comfort you, it wasn't working though. You could only think about your death, what the other side would look like. Could there even be heaven or hell, maybe a place in between, maybe nowhere...?

As soon as you felt the urge to vomit, you did, and despite it being utterly disgusting Albedo seemed to welcome it happily. He took this as something good, but it only worried you when you saw the reddish hues in the bile.

"I think they should leave." You muttered acknowledging Sucrose and Elizabeth, the taste of gooey, metal only becoming more apparent. The blonde agreed, nodding and muttering "Okay."

As Sucrose lead Elizabeth towards the stairs, the pair heard you say. "Goodbye Sucrose, Elizabeth." Which only seemed to make the young girl wail louder.

You sighed sadly once the silence was back. Just your thoughts of death, and Albedo's slowly crushing heart.

"You should probably leave soon as well. I don't want you to be here when I go." Albedo frowned at your statement, head shaking.

"Don't say things like that."

Of course, he'd say that. Why did he feel the need to ignore this when it would only come back to hurt him even more later on when you were gone?

"You're the smartest man I know and we both know where this is heading," You said, head feeling much heavier than before. It was getting closer to your time. "I'm going to die, and you can't do anything about it."

"I'm not leaving your side. We promised to stick together through everything, you can't ask me to leave."

"I guess... But promise me this."

"When I go, stop blaming Elizabeth. It was an accident..." You said sincerely. Albedo wanted to make a fuss about it, tell you he'd never been able to forgive her. But for you, he would try. If it was your list desire, your last wish, he'd make it come true. Though it would be difficult. Accidental or not, she was the reason you were leaving him here, alone.

"Okay, I'll try..." He said honestly.

"Thank you," You said, letting out a shaking breath you had been holding for a very long time. Now you felt much more peaceful. "And since I know you stubbornly won't leave," You started, finally turning away from the sink to look into his cerulean eyes. "At least hold my hand."

"Of course, love."

even a year after your death, no matter how hard he tried, there was still this nagging feeling every time he looked at Elizabeth

he wanted too badly forgive her, but he couldn't

she had, although accidental, taken the one person that meant so much to him and he'd never forgive

Albedo is gonna be distant towards everyone he knows and it's completely purposeful

he doesn't like the pitiful gazes that people send his way and he hates that all the captains stared at him at your funeral

obviously, some questioned if he was able to stay in the field

he hadn't taken any time off, even when Jean advised he was welcome and that it would be best

tbh, albedo's going to have a hard time for a while

Xiao

Why did it have to be you? Why not him? He'd feel much better knowing you could live another day, after all, he'd been living a very long time.

But no, the fallen Archons, Gods, Yaksha had chosen you to join them. He wished that weren't the case

Humans and their pathetic vessels... So weak, he thought. Allowing something like cancer to beat them.

No matter how harsh it sounded, he didn't despise you, no. It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. He just knew that if you were a godly being this wouldn't have happened like this or at least not so soon; Xiao had known Gods that had terminal illnesses to live years. Why couldn't you be like them?

He hated watching you lie there in that bed, immobile, sickly, and tired, and all you could say was that everything was going to be alright, that he'd be alright.

But it wasn't. He wouldn't be okay without you. He would struggle daily, fall deeper into a hole. You were the light of his life, the only light in his life. And you were gone, just like that. Turning external scars into internal ones tattered all over his dying heart.

Xiao for the longest time has been by himself, so the people of Liyue know it'll be harder for him to overcome this, no matter what he says or does to prove otherwise

Zhongli in particular knows how hard this will be for his friend

his first and probably last love, dead, gone in the blink of an eye

he'll continue fighting all the monsters he crosses, becoming even more violent when he does so, trying his best to get rid of this stupid sickly feeling of heartbreak

but it won't go away, no matter what he does, no matter how absurd

he just wants the feeling to go away, he despises that feeling so much

if you have a secret place somewhere, like in the mountains, Zhongli often finds him there, wallowing in invisible self-pity

"You know they wouldn't want you to be like this." Zhongli would say, only trying to help

but it doesn't

it only enrages Xiao, even more, fuels him to push everyone out of his life again instead of letting them in like he'd done in your presence

Scaramouche

How dare you. How dare you leave him like this. Alone, nonetheless with a toddler to raise who kept crying for her mommy. He couldn't do this without you, he didn't know how to raise a child, speak to her with the gentle care that you did. That was your expertise but now he'd be doing it solo.

And never again would he entrust someone who he cares about, into ignorant, incompetent arms. Never again will he ever allow any member of the Fatui to watch after his daughter; no matter their rank or position. They had one job while he was away doing business in Liyue. Guard your home twenty-four seven, accompany you into Inazuma's port town should you need anything, watch after his daughter while she plays happily in the luscious Inazuma fields. And they couldn't do that. All he gave them was one simple task, watch and keep you and your daughter safe. Instead, they slacked off, probably drunk in some bar while you were being brutally attacked by murderous mercenaries, left to fend for you and your daughter, only to die protecting her and leave your home to be severely burned.

He knew those idiotic Fatui soldiers were incompetent the moment he stepped foot into the harbor and found that everyone seemed to quiet down. Especially the eerily silent soldiers flanked on each side to welcome him home; he was the highest-ranking soldier in the land of Inazuma after all. Not a single one bothered to step forward and tell him what was wrong, what they all criminally allowed happen. Scaramouche only realized what had happened when he was mere minutes away from arriving home, his daughter had come running from his widowed mother's arms, the sight of smoke rising in the air, from the direction of his home. You were nowhere to be seen.

It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. His daughter was clinging to his shirt and his mother only stared with tears of pity.

It didn't take long for the puzzle pieces to be put together and before he knew it, Scaramouche was standing in front of his home, part of it burnt to a crisp and black.

He didn't need to ask what happened, he didn't need to know where you were, because he already knew. What he didn't know was who exactly had done this. But he was going to find out, now.

Incompetent, selfish, bastards. They would all pay for this. The lazy piggish Fatui soldiers who he should've never trusted with such a simple task and the thieves who had murdered you. They all had it rightfully coming.

Scaramouche hates the world after he lost you

he hates it so much and can't understand how this had happened

he's not a good person, so he blames it on karma and those stupid idiots who couldn't protect you

ngl, he's not gonna be around much after your death... his mother would argue that he should be here to raise your daughter, because she's also in pain and doesn't understand that this isn't some game of hide and seek this time

instead, he's focused and driven by revenge

he doesn't listen to a word anybody says, he's much more dangerous than before, and he only trusts his judgment

anyone trying to get him to stop his mission, is someone who doesn't want to see him happy he thinks (though that's not true at all. they hate that he is obsessive over this) but he will personally put a stop to that

and he'll only return home to his daughter and mother when he finds who did this and they along with their bloodline is exterminated

while he's gone, the remainder of his family is relocated somewhere he knows they'll be safe, for example, even though he despises childe, he knows his mom and daughter will be safe with his family

sorry, but Scaramouche will hold this deep-rooted hatred and love for you after you die

yes, he still loves and misses you dearly, but he hates you for leaving him alone, hates that although it wasn't intentional and out of your control, that you were gone

no matter how hard you tried to fight, it was selfish of you to leave him like this

he's not going to stop until he believes whoever was behind this is dead

and in his case, he'll stop believing when he chooses, even if they are innocent/guilty, he'll keep going

3.19.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genhsin impact scenarios #albedo #albedo x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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vikkirosko · 2 years

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What if Yandere Kyle,Stan,Kenny, Wendy, and Bebe Y/N owned a Animatronic restaurant one day they died and now they own it, and it turns out Y/N is now haunting one of the animatronics.

Headcanons Animatronic restaurant

💙 Yandere!Stan Marsh x Reader 🐶

You and Stan have known each other since you were kids. You went to the same school, but you weren't sure that you could be considered friends. Stan often tried to communicate with you, but sometimes he bothered you with his behavior. When you grew up, Stan got a family restaurant with animatronics from his parents. You liked this restaurant even though you met Stan there quite often, who seemed to be waiting for you there on purpose. You didn't even realize that it really was like that

When there was an accident at the restaurant, Stan fell into despair. The reason for this was that you were the victim of an accident. He couldn't believe that you were no longer alive. The restaurant was temporarily closed and Stan stayed there every day and every night. He drank a lot and sometimes it seemed to him that he heard someone's voice. His family tried unsuccessfully to get him out of there, but he refused to leave. It seemed to him that staying in the restaurant would bring him closer to you. He was sleeping in the security room. It was on one of these nights that he woke up to strange noises. At first he thought he had imagined it, but the sound was repeated again. When he looked at the monitor, he saw that one of the animatronics was walking down the corridor from the security room to the stage where it originally stood

Stan couldn't believe exactly what had happened. At first he thought it was hallucinations due to alcohol. But when the animatronic started moving on his own again the next night, he realized that it wasn't a hallucination. In the afternoon, he examined the animatronic, but did not notice anything strange. However, at night it seemed to him that he heard a voice again, only now he was able to recognize this voice. It was your voice. It was then that the thought came to him that maybe your soul never left the restaurant. And that meant that now you will always be there for him, even if not exactly the way he wanted

You've seen Stan constantly walking around you, talking to you. He was talking about how much he loves you. In those moments, you were even more scared than when you woke up in the body of an animatronic. At first you just wanted to come to terms with your new existence, but then you saw the state he was in and you felt sorry for him. You wanted to take care of him at least a little, but your desire went sideways for you. Now you didn't even have the silence that you had before, but the most terrible thing was that you couldn't escape from him no matter how much you wanted to. You weren't human anymore and you couldn't ask for help. All you had to do was stay with him. However, you didn't have any other option

💚 Yandere!Kyle Broflovski x Reader ✡

Since childhood, Kyle has been preparing to take over the family business and run a restaurant with animatronics. The only reason he was distracted from it was you. He has been in love with you since childhood and spent a lot of time and effort to follow you and learn as much as possible about you. He wanted you to belong only to him. You had no idea about his feelings and didn't know about it until he kidnapped you and locked you in one of the office rooms of the restaurant. No one would have suspected him of kidnapping, because to the rest he was a good guy. His plan was flawless. At least that's what he thought

When he came to you again, he saw that you were dead. You committed suicide, having lost all hope of salvation. This infuriated Kyle at first. He couldn't believe that you chose to die rather than accept his love. Then the rage was replaced by pain. The pain of realizing that the person he loved with all his heart is no longer alive. He couldn't even give you a decent funeral because then everyone would know about where you disappeared. He buried your body in the basement of a restaurant that only he knew about. His parents had long forgotten about this room, so he was sure that no one would come there. He made an altar there to somehow honor your memory, but the pain did not go away. He thought he'd lost you forever until one day he was forced to stay in a restaurant at night

He couldn't sleep because of insomnia and was sorting out documents when he heard crying. He had to find out what had happened. The sound came from the side of the stage. It was there that he saw one of the animatronics sitting and crying. It was something abnormal. It just couldn't be. However, he saw it with his own eyes. It wasn't an optical illusion or a hallucination. He took a few steps towards the animatronic and only he was noticed. The animatronic was looking at him in fright, as if he was a living person in front of him. But when the animatronic spoke, Kyle froze. The animatronic asked him not to hurt him. Kyle recognized the voice. Even though the voice was changed by the machine, it was your voice

Kyle never believed in mysticism or ghosts. But looking at the animatronic in which your soul was imprisoned, he could not help but believe. But pretty quickly he realized that it wasn't so bad. You had nowhere else to run. Now you could spend eternity together and nothing could separate you. Kyle locked you in the basement, lying to your parents that the animatronic was badly damaged and had to be disposed of. He won't let anyone take you away from him again. He won't lose you again

🧡 Yandere! Kenny McCormick x Reader 🐀

As a child, Kenny dreamed that when he grew up he would be able to live without needing anything. He did not expect that his dream would come true, but he became the owner of a famous restaurant with animatronics. The only thing he lacked for complete happiness was you. He's been trying to get your attention since you were in school, but you haven't given him a chance. However, when he began to manage the restaurant, you began to see each other much more often because your family supplied parts for animatronics. It made Kenny happy because he could see you very often

You came once a week to diagnose animatronics and test new features. Every time Kenny tried to be close to you, but one day he was forced to leave to talk on the phone and when he returned, he froze in horror. You were dead. You needed to take a closer look at the mechanism inside the animatronic, but something went wrong and the mechanism slammed shut, breaking your neck. Kenny was terrified. He blamed himself for what had happened. If he had stayed with you, you would have been alive. Unable to cope with his grief, Kenny closed the restaurant. He wanted to be reunited with you again, but he couldn't even die. He was doomed to live without you. It was driving him crazy

Kenny spent a lot of time trying to find a way to get you back. He was sure that if there was a force that brought him back to life every time, then there must have been a force that could bring you back to life. He was even willing to give up his immortality just to have you with him again. However, it was all in vain. This method simply did not exist. In a fit of desperation, he decided to destroy the animatronic that took your life, but when he came to the restaurant at night, he saw that the animatronic was not in place. He went in search of an animatronic and was shocked when he saw that the animatronic was repairing himself, muttering something to himself. After listening, Kenny realized that the animatronic was mumbling the same thing that you usually mumbled while working

Kenny didn't give himself away. He couldn't let you know that he found out about your secret ahead of time. That's why he moved the animatronic to a place where no one would find it. He moved you to a place where only he can see you. This place has become a prison for you. Kenny was always there. He didn't care that you weren't human anymore. For him, you were still the same person he fell madly in love with. Even if you no longer have a human body, his feelings for you will not disappear even after his death

📚Yandere! Wendy Testaburger x Reader📱

You and Wendy have been friends since childhood. She was your only friend, but not by your choice. It was Wendy who was the one who drove people away from you in a variety of ways. The reason for this was her obsession with you. Even when you were growing up, Wendy convinced you to go to the same university as herself, and then convinced you to work with her at her restaurant. She tried her best to keep you as close to her as possible and she succeeded

One day during the working day you disappeared somewhere. Wendy tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. It bothered her a lot. She was worried that something might have happened to you. She was able to track your phone and found your phone in the pantry, but you weren't there. You just disappeared. The police have been looking for you for months, but they haven't found anything. However, several more people had disappeared during this time, but Wendy didn't care about them. She wanted to find you. It wasn't until a few more weeks later that one of the restaurant workers found your body in the basement. No one went there for a long time, so even the police forgot about this room. You were killed

This really upset Wendy. She couldn't believe you were gone. She was completely immersed in her work, trying to ease the pain, staying in the restaurant even after closing. It was during one of these nights that she heard strange noises. These were sounds like an animatronic walking down the corridor. She was sure they should have been turned off, so she was shocked when she met one of the animatronics in the hallway. She was even more shocked that the animatronic, as if crying, asked her to help and called her by name. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that the animatronic's voice is similar to yours

Wendy was shocked that your soul was trapped inside an animatronic, but she quickly realized how she could use it to keep you close to her. She was able to take you away from the restaurant to her home. She lived alone, so no one could see you there. You had no idea that even after your death, she wasn't going to let you go. She said she was doing it all for you, but it was all a lie. All she wanted was for you to always be there for her, no matter human or animatronic

💄Yandere!Bebe Stevens x Reader 💞

Bebe has been spoiling your reputation secretly from you since childhood. It wasn't about hatred, but just the opposite, she was in love with you to the point of insanity. She didn't want anyone else to take you away from her. That's why she deprived you of all your friends except herself. She became your best friend, dreaming of more, but she couldn't reveal her feelings so quickly, even though she flirted with you. When you grew up, she convinced you to work in a restaurant that belonged to her family, and therefore to her. In this way she wanted to always keep you in her field of vision and she succeeded. You worked as a night security guard in a restaurant and you were alone most of the time. You were with Bebe during the day and at work at night

One day you didn't come back from the night shift. This greatly worried Bebe, but when she came to the restaurant in the morning, she saw an ambulance. As she soon found out, you had a heart attack from which you died. She didn't even know that you had heart problems, and apparently you didn't know about it either. But now it was too late. Bebe didn't want to accept the fact that you died. She secretly came to the restaurant from everyone and stayed in the security room. Her parents hadn't had time to hire a new security guard yet so she spent time there all alone

Bebe stayed in the restaurant sitting in the security room and clutched your jacket from the guard's uniform to her chest. She was scrolling through all her memories of you in her memory when she suddenly heard some strange sounds. She was sure that no one else should be in the building, but the sounds were heard quite clearly. Fearing that it could be thieves, she checked on the cameras what was going on. But as it turned out, they were not thieves, and she could not explain something. It was one of the animatronics who for some reason walked from one corner of the room to another. It was strange, but Bebe understood that it needed to be turned off. But when she got to the room, she heard muttering. The animatronic walked around the room and repeated the same phrase. The animatronic said that all this could not be

Bebe watched the animatronic until she realized that the voice seemed familiar to her. Although the voice was changed, but it was your voice, she was sure of it. Bebe hurried to the animatronic and hugged it. She couldn't believe it was really you. However, when the animatronic called her name, she became sure that it was really you. She wasn't going to lose you anymore, even if she had to spend the rest of her life in a restaurant to do it

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desicroft02 · 2 years

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Depressed (TW)- JJ Maybank x Fem Reader

Before I write this, it is going to be very detailed about things that are going on in my life right now, and I'm going to be relating Covid with the show, because that's where a lot of my current issues come from.. It will start off by me ranting about things happening using "I" and my name, and then it will transition into an actual imagine and JJ being there for me (but it'll be Y/N) now if that makes sense. This was really just a way for me to get things off my chest, but writing these has helped me escape reality that's why I am doing this. This is going to be upsetting to read, so please if you can't handle it don't read it. The whole thing is literally a giant trigger warning. The TW for this are anxiety, depression, self harm, alcoholism, and miscarriage

Fourteen deaths. Fourteen deaths I've had between family and friends this year. Fucking COVID-19 ruined everything. Aunts, uncles, cousins, a second father figure, and my brother in law. On top of it, my dad was thrown into jail days before my Thanksgiving. My dad who I was finally connecting with, finally spending time with. He was caught one too many times with unregistered vehicles, DUIs, carrying weed, and not having a license. About 2 1/2 months ago on his birthday, he went to the bar and got drunk and crashed into a gas station sign and ripped it out of the concrete.

He had a court date, but one night past midnight a police officer knocked on the door asking where he was, and my mom said he wasn't home. They had come with a warrant for his arrest regarding the court dates he had missed. He was going to turn himself in the day after we had our early Thanksgiving (we always do it before so family can go to other families houses). He was moving his car around to the back of the house that Sunday, so family could park in the front. The cops just happened to be driving down the road. He was also drinking that morning, a beer in his cup holder. My mom and aunt screamed at them to wait and that we were having our whole family over today. (Mind you I was at work for 5:30AM) and I didn't find this out until I had gotten home around 12.

I was torn apart. I had gotten home and my mom said "Desiree. We need to tell you something, put your things down. The cops came by today and took your father." Tears rolled down my cheeks and I looked over at the coffee I made him with Dad❤️ drawn on it. I started hyperventilating, struggling to breathe. I then went on with my day pushing myself away from the family at the party. Fast forward to not even 3 weeks later. My older sisters fiancée died from Covid at 32 years old. The worst part? They are expecting a child in April. I wanted to be there for her but she's already terrified of Covid, and now even more. Out of all my siblings she was going to be the first to have a child.

My first time being an aunt and having a nephew. And I can't even be there for her. 2 ish weeks later is the funeral, which I go to. I walked in and there was pictures and collages of him and everyone he knew. The second picture shown when you walked in is a huge picture of him and my sister. I couldn't breathe and I started sobbing hysterically, feeling the room cave in as I tried walking outside. Once I calmed down I went and talked to my sister who was broken down and barely talking. I went to hug her but due to Covid she said "please just stay away." After awhile of talking, I walked over to his urn. I told him thank you for being such a good man to her, and that he would've been a great father. "I'll be there for them as much as I can." I had said. What a great Christmas present, a funeral a week before. My dads not here for her, and he won't be here for anyone at Christmas. I can't even visit him because of Covid, and his court date isn't until the second week of January, so I don't even know how long he will be there. I'm falling apart faster and faster and there's nothing I can do about it. The depression and anxiety medicine I was taking made me nauseous so I had to stop. I've turned to smoking and drinking as a way to cope.

———Now to JJ being there for Y/N———

You haven't been hanging out with the rest of the Pogues for the past month or so due to the fucking pandemic, and because you've been in a really bad depressive episode. You barely even saw your boyfriend JJ. You love talk talking to him about things, but you feel bad talking to him about your father because his is a piece of shit. Same with Sarah, and John B- well his dad is dead. That left Pope and Kiara to talk to about your father, but even then you just felt like a burden, so you kept your mouth shut. When it all first happened, you called JJ having a panic attack and he left work to calm you down. You told the rest of the Pogues but acted like it didn't bother you. The most you said was "It's better for him to be there than to hurt others or himself while driving intoxicated."

Whenever they asked, you just said you were doing better because he was in a safe place, being able to detox and sober up. Then, you just stopped hanging around about a week after because the new variant was spiking from the holidays, and quite honestly, you prefer being alone. Less things for your friends to add onto their already long to do list. They didn't need to help you and waste their time. They always asked "Hey Y/N, how are you today?" or "Did you want to hangout?" And then once your brother in law died, you ghosted. You told them over the groupchat, and muted everything. JJ repeatedly called you, but you didn't answer. How could this all be happening? So many deaths, and the urge to be a sort of father figure for your nephew that was yet to be born. You and JJ were so excited for him to be born. Even though you weren't married, JJ was still seeing himself as an uncle.

You felt as if there was going to be karma with having children for the rest of you and your siblings. I mean, the first one going to be born and the father dies? Not to mention the fact your sister might get so stressed she could have a miscarriage. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at your phone. 15 Missed calls and 4 texts from JJ. You haven't seen him since the funeral 5 days ago. You told him you needed space, and you figured the rest of the gang convinced him to stay away.

Baby 9:48AM - Good morning cupcake, I love you

Baby 10:12AM- Can I come over today? Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I want to stay a few days

Baby 11:46AM- I miss you babygirl

Baby 12:13PM- Wake up love, I'm coming over. I'm so worried about you

You 1:08PM- Hi J. I love you too. And I miss you. Can you bring me a hot tea please?

Baby 1:08PM- Hi Y/N. Of course. I will be there in 20 minutes. Be prepared for cuddles, I love you.

You groaned and rolled out of bed looking at yourself in the mirror. You haven't showered since the funeral, your hair is starting to get matted, and your clothes are stained. You've been in the same sweatpants, sweatshirt, socks, and underwear. You've done absolutely nothing the past 5 days besides sleep. "Maybe I should pick up this mess before he comes over." There are piles of dirty and clean clothes everywhere, including your funeral clothes. You looked over to see the letter and drawing from your dad that arrived yesterday. He's been drawing in his cell, and he wants to buy colored pencils from commissary so he can send more. Shit, you were supposed to send him a Christmas card. You rummaged through your desk looking for some card stock, and you drew on the back of it, writing him a paragraph on the front. Your mom can send it later for you.

You looked at the time, and it was almost 1:30. JJ would be here soon, and you still haven't cleaned yourself up, never mind your room. You quickly went to your drawers, trying to find clothes to wear, and ran to your bathroom. You took your shirt off to reveal the fresh cuts from last night. You took off your pants only to reveal more. "Makeup, makeup." you mumbled looking through the bathroom drawer. "Fuck." is all you said before throwing clothes back on and going back to your room looking for some. You ran into your room almost tripping over your feet only to see a teared up JJ on your bed holding something small. "B- baby, how long have you been doing this?" he asked, holding up your razor. How could you forget it was on the other pillow on your bed.

"I. Well um." you tried saying, but instead choked up. You dropped to your hands and knees on the floor struggling to breathe. You were getting dizzy and it's probably because you haven't been eating either. JJ jumped off the bed crawling on the floor down to you, holding you. "Babygirl, it's okay, I'm here now. What have you been doing these past 5 days?" You couldn't talk, so he started rubbing your back and playing with your hair. "Y/N, lets go on your bed, come on." He helped you lift yourself up and sat you down on the bed. You looked down at the ground and he stuck his finger under your chin lifting your head up. "Y/N, I need to know what's been happening and what's going through your head. We can do it slowly, but I need to know, okay?" a few tears rolled down his cheeks and you nodded.

"Ever since the funeral, after I told you to give me space, I've been in these clothes, laying in bed." "Okay, have you eaten anything?" you shook your head no. "Does your mom know what's going on?" "No, I pretend I'm okay when she comes up." he rubbed your hands. "And how long have you been hurting yourself for?" you trembled, crying some more. "Ever since Saturday night. I started thinking of everything going wrong and how dads not here, and how my sister won't have the father of her child, and how that was the 14th death this year and how the holidays are here and everything is just fucked up." you choked out. He pulled you into his chest now, caressing your cheek with one of his hands, kissing your forehead. "I'm going to help you clean up okay? You nodded but replied "Can we do my room first? Please J?" he shook his head "No honey, you need to eat, drink water, brush your hair and teeth, and shower. I don't know how long your room will take but it is very important you eat babygirl." you huffed but agreed.

"Do you want one of my t shirts to change into after? I brought my pj pants so we can match Y/N. Remember? Our Christmas ones?" A small smile went to your face and you went over to your drawer picking them out, along with a pair of clean underwear and socks. "Lets go put them in the bathroom, and find something to eat." You went and put your things in the bathroom and walked to the kitchen. Thankfully your mom was at work. JJ was grabbing a small soup pan, and another pan to make grilled cheese. "I'm making you chicken soup and grilled cheese love. For now, you're going to try to eat half the sandwich and half a bowl of soup." He knew that was your comfort food. Back about 6 years ago, you were in your first depressive episodes, going through self harm, thoughts of suicide, and not eating. JJ was only your bestfriend then, but he was always there to make sure you were okay.

He heated up the soup, and made the grilled cheese, kissing your face all over in between, while hugging you. "Here baby, I'll eat with you." He took half the sandwich for him, and the other half for you. Soon after, pouring the soup into 2 bowls. You felt nauseous just looking at it. You took two bites of the sandwich and he smiled at you while taking spoonful's of soup. You blew on it first, tasting a few spoonful's. You sat for a few minutes letting it digest while taking three more bites of the sandwich. Only a few more bites left. You started eating more soup, but your stomach was hurting too much. "J, I'm done for now. After some tums and a shower I'll eat some okay?" you gave him a weak smile. You went into the bathroom, and saw your hair in the mirror. "We have to brush it first, and then I can shower. From the bottom up." you showed him how to brush your hair, and you did one side while he did the other.

You flinched a little every time, because it hurt, so you took breaks between sides instead of brushing at the same time. About 45 minutes later, you were finished. JJ smiled down at you kissing your forehead "I love you, I'm proud of you. You ate, and brushed your hair. Does your stomach feel better love? Do you want to finish eating" "Yes, but can I shower first? I stink." you laughed. "Do you want to do it yourself or do you want help?" You got on your tiptoes and kissed him. "Can you help J?" "Yes my love." he smiled and kissed your lips slowly and softly. You turned the water on, grabbing a washcloth and taking your clothes off. JJ got in first, helping you in. He let you get under the water, but you immediately winced from the water touching your cuts. "Baby what's wrong?" he asked. "The water, it. It hurts my cuts." you mumbled looking at the ground. He cupped your face in his hands and made you look into his beautiful blue eyes. "We need to clean them, but we can do your arms first, and then your legs. All separately, and not at once so it doesn't hurt you at the same time okay?"

You lifted your arm and he gently rubbed the dried blood off with the cloth, quickly going to the other. He kissed your forehead and held your hands. "That wasn't so bad was it Y/N?" you had some tears rolling down your cheeks, but you shook your head no. He got on his knees and started rinsing off your legs. They didn't hurt as bad a your wrists did. He came back up between kisses said "You're so beautiful." You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your hands around his neck. "You need to clean up too JJ. But, can I wash your hair?" you loved playing with his hair, and he loved it too. He washed himself up, and stuck you under the water to warm up. He scrubbed the coconut smelling shampoo into your scalp, making you lean you head back from the feeling. You rinsed it out, and he continued to stroke conditioner through your hair. Once he was done, you made him go under the water.

"J you need to lean down so I can reach your head." you giggled. He leaned forward a little and you curled his hair between your fingers before rubbing the shampoo onto his scalp. He rinsed it out and you finished off with rubbing conditioner through his blonde locks. He rinsed his hair off and pulled you under the running water with him, hugging you. "I love you so much Y/N. Are you all done or did you want to shave? I'm going to help if you do though." You looked down at your legs. You were planning on wearing a skirt tomorrow, and with clean sheets and your soft pjs, freshly shaven legs would feel amazing. "I can shave." He watched you closely as you started shaving your legs, to make sure you didn't do anything bad with the razor. Once you got up to the cuts on your thighs you looked up at him "Can you do it please? Gently. And hold my hand?" He grabbed your hands, kissing them before taking the razor and holding only one hand now. He went over the cuts and you winced. "Okay, okay. Can we just not shave over them? I want to get out." You tried rushing out, but he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. "Shh it's okay baby. Breathe. It'll be alright. Lets dry off."

You both got out of the shower, and dried off. He looked at the cuts on your wrists and kissed them, putting one of his shirts on you, and putting gauze over the cuts. He went down to the ones on your thighs, kissing them and covering them with gauze as well, and let you put your pj pants on after. "You're amazing Y/N. I want you to stop hurting yourself like this. Please. It's not going to help anything that's going on. I'm here for you through everything, always. So are the rest of the Pogues. It will get better." He kissed your forehead and you started crying into his bare chest. "But it's not J. It's just getting worse." "I know it is, but please believe me when I say it will get better. We're spending Christmas together, that's good right?" he wiped your tears and you smiled at him and nodded your head yes. "Can we go clean my room now?"

You walked into your room not sure what to do first. "How about we put all your clothes in basket and change your sheets?" You nodded, beginning to pick the piles of clothes up. You didn't realize how dirty your floors were. "Maybe after this we should vacuum and maybe mop. I would say dust too, but this might be enough for me today." "Whatever you want, I'll do Y/N." You guys picked up the clothes together, moving onto the sheets on your bed. "Can you get the red plaid ones out of the closet? Those are my favorite." JJ went and grabbed the sheet set and changed the sheets, putting the pillowcases on as well. "I need a small break, and then we can finish." "Okay baby. What else needs to be done?." "Um, the trash needs to be picked up, and the room needs to be vacuumed and mopped." He kissed your forehead and went on to do chores. You were getting tired and felt yourself falling asleep.

You woke up two hours later, to see JJ dusting and disinfecting everything. Your room was spotless, and your little Christmas tree was out and plugged in. "J you found my tree? And, and. It's so clean in here. It smells so nice." He walked over to you and sat on the bed. "I know how much you like a deep cleaned room, and I brought you up a water bottle, and plugged your phone in for you, it was almost dead. Your mom came home about an hour ago and she showed me where the tree was. What candle do you want lit? I'm almost done." "Well, it was supposed to be a present, but. Go look in that small box on my desk." He opened it and smiled. It was candles with the letters of your first names on them. "Light those ones." you smiled.

He lit them with his lighter and threw the rest of the dirty dusting wipes out, laying down on the bed with you. "I love these pajamas they're so comfy and I get to match with my princess." he said before pulling you into a kiss. You climbed onto him, deepening the kiss slightly. "I missed you so much JJ. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm so happy you're here now." You pulled away giving him a kiss on the nose, proceeding to lay your head on his chest. "I missed your touch, and the the way you smell. It calms me down. Can we lay like this for the rest of the night?" you asked. "It's okay Y/N I understand. But no more pushing me away, I need to make sure you're okay. I love you so much, and I missed you more than anything. We can cuddle, but you need to finish eating dinner. I can bring it up if you want, unless you want to go talk to mom." "No, I want to stay up here please. She doesn't know about- you know. Unless I steal your sweatshirt..." "You can have my sweatshirt love, but she needs to find out eventually okay?" you huffed, but agreed to take his sweatshirt.

He went over to his bag and grabbed it and you snatched it out of his hands, taking in the scent. You put it on and motioned for him to come cuddle again. "You need to eat more, and then we can cuddle Y/N." He pulled you out of bed and you went downstairs. He heated up the rest of your soup, and made you another sandwich, giving you half again. You actually ate all the soup and most of the sandwich this time. "Do you want to bring snacks upstairs for later?" he asked. You pointed to the bag of chips on the counter. Your mom walked in and said "Hi Y/N, did you like your surprise?" You hugged her "Yes, I love my tree. I just wish I would've taken it out earlier." "I know, but it's okay that you didn't, we're having a rough year." You talked with your mom and JJ for a bit, and went upstairs. "Do you want to brush your teeth or wait until after if you decide to eat snacks?" he asked.

"After. I want my cuddles now." you pouted. He laughed and pulled you onto the bed with him, tickling you. "J, st- stop." you laughed. He stopped and set you down facing him. "I love you so much Y/N. I'm always here for you my love." He said while tucking your hair behind your ear. "I love you too JJ. Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry again for pushing you away. I promise I'll open up to you from now on." You kissed him again and tucked yourself between his arms, entangling your legs with his. He kissed your forehead and the last thing you heard before falling asleep was "I'm so happy you're mine Y/N, I don't know what I'd do without you. You're everything to me, I love you so much."

Hi so. Yeah. I wrote this acting as if he was here for me, and as stupid as it might sound it did help. I'm sorry if some of the things I wrote were intense, but these are real problems in my life and I need a way to vent them out. If you read this far, thank you for reading, and if anyone ever needs someone to talk to my DMs are always open :)

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj maybank obx

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imaginationintowords · 3 years

Text

Folklore [song series]

my tears ricochet

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death, and funeral]

word count: 4829

[a/n: sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy. I thought once I was done for the semester I would have a lot more time to work on my stories, but if anything my summer break has been more hectic. Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean I haven't been working on them. Just know that I am working on the new chapters for this and for TKWBA, just need a bit of patience from you all. Also thank-you for the continue love and support on all my work]

Series Masterlist

Tag list info here [if you want to be tagged please read this]

Age: 21

Year: Sep. 2015

Location: Brooklyn, NY & Stanford, CA

Elizabeth was sat at her desk doing her homework. She was anxiously waiting for Steve's call about the baby arriving. He had called her two hours prior to let her know that Natasha had gone into labor, and they were at the hospital. Steve told her that he'd call her as soon as he heard the news. She tried her hardest to focus on her homework, but she found herself constantly checking her phone for any updates.

Suddenly her phone started going off. She instantly picked it up and answered the call.

"Is the baby here?" She immediately asked.

"Liz," Steve choked out.

"Steve, what's wrong?" She could hear the distress in his voice.

"Natasha, she," he tried to say but the words got caught in his throat, and she could hear the soft cries.

"Steve, breathe," she tries to calm him down the best she could without actually physically being with him.

Elizabeth was simultaneously trying to keep herself calm, and not rush into any assumptions.

"She died," he said after calming himself down enough to tell her what happened.

"She died?"

"I guess there were complications, he tells her, still unsure of what exactly happened.

Steve hadn't thought to ask further into what exactly happened when Bucky's mom called to tell him the devastating news. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was telling him. He just never imagined that this would be the outcome of his best friend welcoming his first child into the world.

Steve clears his throat trying to force the lump back down.

"I'm catching the next flight out to New York," he tells Elizabeth, "I just gotta be there for Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," she says, completely understanding.

"I know you can't exactly fly out now, without letting your professors know, so as soon as I find out all the funeral," his throat catches at the word, he takes a small breath, "all the funeral information I'll let you know."

"Okay that works," she agrees.

"Okay. I haven't to pack real quick and get to the airport within the next hour," he tells her.

"Okay, I'll let you go."

"Wait, Steve," she calls out before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she says with a shaky voice.

"I love you too, so much," he says, "I'll text you when I board the plane."

After one final goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

The flight seemed like Steve's longest one he's ever been on. As soon as he landed he quickly grabbed his carry on, the only thing aside from his backpack that he brought with him. Elizabeth had messaged him letting him know that she could bring more of his stuff once she flies out.

Steve made his way out of the airport to find his mom waiting for him by her car. He quickly made his way towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

On the drive to Bucky's apartment Steve sent Liz a text letting her know he landed. He then called Bucky's mom to let her know he was on the way.

"Thank-you for coming out Steve," Winnie thanks him, "The baby is just about to get discharged, we should be at the apartment before you get there."

"Of course, I'll see you guys soon," he says hanging up the phone.

Steve then sends a quick email to his boss and professors explains his absence and why he'll most likely be gone for a couple of weeks.

An hour later Steve's mom was stopping outside of Bucky's building.

"Let them know I'm here if they need anything," his mom tells him before he exists the car, "I'll come back at noon with lunch for everyone."

"Thanks Mom," he says leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Steve exists the car leaving his bags with his mom. He takes one final breath before walking to the front doors. Steve presses the call button for Bucky's apartment and was immediately buzzed in.

As soon as he reaches Bucky's door, he knocks quietly. The door opens and he's welcomed by Rebecca. He takes in the sullen face on the teenage girl.

"Hey Bec," he says.

"Hi," she quietly says, as they hug each other in the door way.

When they pull apart she steps aside letting him inside.

"It's just my parents and I here. Bucky didn't want to deal with a lot of people right now," she explains to Steve.

"Steve," he hears from his left, Keith, Bucky's stepdad makes his way out of the small kitchenette over to him, and embracing him, "Thank-you so much for coming. We know you're a very busy person."

Before Steve could respond Bucky's mom Winnie walks into the living room.

"Oh Steve," she immediately wraps her arms around him.

"Thank-you so much for coming on such a short notice," she says. Steve could hear the shakiness in her voice. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. No doubt the last 12 hours being the most stressful and emotional she's ever been.

"There's no need to thank me. This is where I need to be," he tells them.

"Let us at least pay you back for the flight," Keith says.

"No, don't worry about that," Steve waves him off, "I had a lot of miles that needed to be used."

"Well, thank-you again," Keith nods his head, understanding where Steve was coming from.

"You can go on ahead Steve. Bucky is waiting for you in the nursery," Winnie tells him, giving him an assuring nod, he nods back making his way towards the nursery.

The short walk seemed like it was much longer. Steve has never felt so nervous in his life. When he approaches the closed door, he softly knocks on it.

"Come in," Bucky calls from inside.

Steve walks in, closing the door behind him. He's immediately greeted by Bucky sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeding his newborn daughter.

"Hey," Steve softly says, not sure what to say.

"Hey," Bucky greeted Steve with a sad smile.

It had been 12 hours later and it still didn't feel real to Bucky. The hospital had even offered the chance for him and Poppy to stay a couple of days, but all Bucky wanted to do was to go home and get away from the hospital. But now being back in the apartment without Natasha was surreal. He was trying his best to keep it all in, at least while the baby is awake and needs him.

He was determined in being the one that cared for her, even when his mom offered to take care of her for a few hours while he gets some rest. He assured her that he needed to do this. He had to do it alone, because he knew that soon enough it would just be him and Poppy.

Bucky was very grateful when he heard Steve was flying out. He felt like Steve was the only one he could really talk to about everything going on.

Steve was still standing by the door, just watching his best friend be a dad for the first time. He had no idea what to say in this kind of situation. The words were caught in his throat the moment he actually saw Bucky.

"Thanks for coming," Bucky says breaking the silence. Steve immediately looks away from the baby to meet Bucky's eyes.

"You would've done the same thing," Steve says, "And like I've said before, I'll always be here for you."

"I don't care how far, I'll always be on that first flight to you," Steve continues, he glances down at the now sleepy baby, "You're my brother Buck."

There was a moment of silence between the young men. Both understanding what the other one means with such few words.

Steve watched as Bucky gently placed the sleepy baby on his shoulder to burp her.

"It suits you," Steve quietly remarks.

"What?" Bucky looked up at him confused.

"Fatherhood, it suits you," Steve says again, stepping closer to his friend.

"You think?" Bucky looks back down at the now sleeping baby.

"Yeah. I know it's only been less than a day, but you look natural. Make it look easy."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, getting up for the he chair and walking over to the crib to gently place Poppy in.

Steve walked over, standing next to Bucky, watching the little one sleep peacefully.

"What's her name?" Steve whispered, realizing that he hadn't found out what the name of the baby was.

"Poppy James Barnes," Bucky proudly says.

"That's cute," Steve commented, he placed his right hand on Bucky's left shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Bucky looked over at Steve and they both nodded their heads in agreement, before falling into an embrace.

"I am so sorry," Steve quietly says.

"It happened so quick, she barely even got to see the baby," Bucky quietly cried into Steve's shoulder, "I never even thought of this would be the outcome. I never imagined I'd be coming home solo with the baby."

Steve tightened his embrace on Bucky, just listening to his friend.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this Steve. I don't know how I'm going to raise her without her mom. I'm trying to keep it together to not worry my mom, but fuck Steve, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared I'll screw this all up. I'm scared I'll screw her up.

"I'm so scared Steve," Bucky cries.

"It's okay to be scared," Steve tries his best to comfort Bucky, "I'd be more concerned if you weren't scared. This is entirely new territory for you. You're raising a child, a child who unfortunately no longer has her mother. That alone is a fucking terrifying thing to go through.

"It's not going to be easy. There's no point in lying to you, and saying it will. You and I both that won't be the truth. But if there's anyone I know who could do this, it's you Buck. You're the strongest person I know. Whatever has happened before this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is that little girl. And I know damn well you're going to give her the best life she will ever have," Steve pulls away from Bucky and holds onto his shoulders.

"And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you, and now Poppy. You will never be alone. You'll always have someone to call, someone to help you. You're crazy to think we would ever leave you to do this alone. We're here, and we're not going anywhere. You and Poppy will never have to be alone. She might not have her mom, but she's got you, and I know damn well you won't ever let her wonder what being without one parent truly feels like.

"You've got this Buck," Steve assures him, "And we're here every step of the way."

"Thanks Steve," Bucky sniffles, wiping the tears away.

"No need to thank me," Steve smiles, "Now why don't you go take a nap. Get some rest. We're here if Poppy wakes up."

"Yeah I could use some sleep," Bucky yawns, his adrenaline from the last 12 hours fading away.

Steve walks Bucky to his bedroom and watches as he gets into his bed, and quickly falls asleep. He quietly closes the door behind him, with the baby monitor in one hand checking to make sure Poppy is still asleep.

He walks back into the living room, placing the monitor by the tv for everyone to see and hear.

"They're both asleep," Steve announces to the room.

"Oh thank goodness," Winnie sighs, "James hasn't taken a moment to rest since everything happened."

"Knowing Bucky, we'll probably have to be forcing him to rest for the next couple of weeks," Steve says.

"I just got off of the phone with Natasha's father," Keith said walking back inside the apartment.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"He said that the funeral is all up to us," Keith sighs, "Something about how Natasha made her own path with getting pregnant, and that once she left she was no longer his responsibility."

"He really said that?" Winnie asked mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Keith sighed, "I tried reasoning with him saying we would handle everything financially and he can come to the funeral but he said no."

"What kind of father doesn't show up to his own daughter's funeral," Winnie shakes her head in complete disbelief.

"Explains why Natasha was the way she was," Rebecca whispered, so that only Steve could hear her.

He reluctantly agrees.

Two weeks later

Elizabeth was helping Steve with his tie in his childhood bedroom. She had flown in yesterday for today's funeral services. Elizabeth had gotten in late last night, so she still hasn't seen Bucky or Poppy yet. She was a let to get a week off of work and her professors gave her an extension on her assignments when she explained to them what happened.

"I still can't believe Natasha's dad isn't going," she says as she straightens out Steve's tie.

"Bucky's mom is still holding out hope that he shows up," Steve says.

"What does Bucky think of it all?" Elizabeth asks.

"He's not worrying about it," Steve explains, looking over himself in the mirror, "His only concern right now is Poppy and only Poppy. If Nat's dad shows up then he does. But as of now Bucky has made the decision that he will not be in Poppy's life. Not until he proves himself."

"That's very mature," she says grabbing her purse.

"This Buck is like a whole new one you've never seen before. Fatherhood has made him a thousand times more grown up these last couple of weeks."

"That's good."

"Ready to go?" Steve asked her, grabbing the keys to his mom's car.

"Yup," Elizabeth says following Steve out.

Bucky had asked Steve to pick him and Poppy up, and Steve had of course agreed.

They arrived to Bucky's apartment in fifteen minutes. Walking up to Bucky's door they could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside. Steve used the key Bucky gave him to let himself and Elizabeth in.

As soon as they walked in they were greeted by the sounds of a baby crying.

"Buck?" Steve called out.

"We're in here," he calls from the nursery.

They go to the nursery to find Bucky looking frazzled while trying to change Poppy's diaper.

"I'm so sorry. I'm running so behind," Bucky tells them, glancing over his shoulder quickly,

"Poppy didn't sleep well last night. And nothing I've tried has been working."

"It's okay Buck, just take your time," Steve calmly says.

"I still need to shower, shave, and get dressed," Bucky rambles, "She's going to need another change of clothes because she spat all over herself, and my mom only bought this one outfit for today."

"Hey Bucky, calm down," Elizabeth calmly spoke up, placing her hand on his back, "Take a breath."

Bucky felt the warmth and comfort from Liz's touch. He listens to what she says and takes a deep breath.

"Okay good," she says, "now you go get ready. Steve and I got this."

"Okay," he nods his head, handing the baby over to Elizabeth, "thank-you."

"Of course," she softly smiles at him, "now go get ready."

Bucky quickly makes his way out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Elizabeth looks down at the small baby in her arms. She could see so much of Bucky in the baby with hints of Natasha. It was a little strange for her to be holding Bucky's baby and it not being her baby as well. Not that she ever wanted to get back together with Bucky, because she didn't. There was just a little voice in her head, that of her teenage self, saying how it was supposed to be them, doing this together.

She quickly shut the voice down.

Elizabeth was incredibly sympathetic of Bucky's situation. All she wanted to do was be there for him, as a friend. She wanted Bucky to succeed as a father, and she would do what she could to make that happen.

Steve silently watched Elizabeth watching Poppy. He couldn't really read her expression. He hates to admit it to himself, especially with everything going on, but he was slightly worried about how Liz would react to all of this. He had faith in their relationship, of course he trusted her immensely. But he still couldn't help but feel like she might decide to leave him for Bucky. Elizabeth turned around to see Steve looking at her with a distant look in his eyes.

"You good?" She gently asked, breaking him from his self-destructive thoughts.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah," she nods her head, handing the baby over to him, "I'm going to try and find her a new outfit.

"Okay," Steve says sitting down with the baby.

"I love you," Liz quietly says to Steve, knowing what could possibly going through his mind, if hers was also wandering.

"I love you," Steve replies back, finding himself relaxing at just hearing those three words, any doubt slipping away.

30 minutes later Bucky was ready to go. He walked out to the living room where he found Steve and Elizabeth sitting with each other holding the baby. He paused for a moment taking in the scene in front of him. He felt a sense of warmth and low flow through him as his closest friends admire his daughter. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision in what he would tell them next.

Steve glanced up to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the hallway.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you two something before we go," Bucky says walking over and sitting on a chair next to the couch.

"Sure, what's up?" Steve leans forward, leaning on his knees, giving Bucky his full attention.

Elizabeth tears her eyes away from Poppy to also give Bucky her full attention. She smiles at him, letting him know he could continue on.

"I first and foremost just want to thank you Steve, for what probably is the hundredth time," Bucky says, "I know you have a lot going on with work and school. So I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Poppy. And you too Elizabeth, I know you're incredibly busy especially with law school prep. And with everything that's happened between-"

"Don't," she stopped him, "What's past is past."

"Well anyways, thank-you," Bucky says, "Now here comes what I wanted to ask you two. There's no other two people I wouldn't trust more with Poppy. So I wanted to ask if you would be her godparents?"

"Really?" Elizabeth asked taken back by Bucky's request.

"Yes," he nods his head, "There's no one else I wouldn't trust with her if anything happens. It'll help me sleep better knowing she'll have two people who'll love her like I would. Two people who have so much love between them, that I know will always be together."

Both Steve and Elizabeth were taken back by Bucky's last statement. They knew Bucky had accepted their relationship, but to actually have him not only say it out loud but to practically give them his blessing, it meant the world to the couple.

Steve and Elizabeth both share a look with tears glistening in their eyes. Elizabeth nods her head.

Steve turns back to Bucky, "We'd be honored to be Poppy's godparents."

Elizabeth and Steve stood up to hug Bucky. All filled with a wide range of emotions. Bucky felt a huge sense of comfort after asking Liz and Steve to be Poppy's godparents. He knew he made the right decision, and he knew he could now sleep better at night knowing his daughter would be taken care of. And by two people he knows can love her the way he does.

After what happened with Natasha, Bucky just wanted to make sure Poppy would be taken care of. If she couldn't have her parents, then she would have the closest thing to having parents. And Bucky knows Steve and Elizabeth would be amazing parents.

That alone allowed him to be at peace for whatever may happen.

Arriving to the funeral location Bucky felt his nerves start to spike. He sat in the backseat looking out the window at the familiar faces walking into the chapel.

"You okay?" Elizabeth asked turning in her seat, after Steve parked the car.

"I don't know if I can do this," he mutters, glancing towards the sleeping baby in the car seat next to him.

"We'll be right next to you along the entire way," Liz calmly says.

"If you feel too overwhelmed we'll leave whenever you want," Steve tells him, "We won't stay if you absolutely can't handle it. No one will hold it against you."

"Okay," Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Stay here, I'll get the stroller out," Steve says, getting out of the car.

"No one is expecting you to be brave, Buck," Elizabeth says, "You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to show emotions."

He nods his head, taking in what she's telling him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace. Clutching onto it as if his life depended on it.

Elizabeth catches the small 'N' on it, realizing that that was the necklace Natasha wore everyday since she was 13.

Bucky takes one final deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay, I'm ready," he tells her.

"Okay, let's do this."

Bucky was grateful that they arrived only minutes before the service started. Everyone was already seated in the pews.

He slowly walked down the aisle pushing the stroller, Steve and Elizabeth walking right behind him.

Bucky tried his best to avoid any eye contact with everyone. He couldn't bare to look at the pity in their eyes.

He caught sight of his family siting in the second row. He also noticed a man sitting alone in the first row.

He instantly knew who it was.

Once Bucky reached the first row, the man made to movement to greet Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Mr. Romanoff."

The older man looked over at Bucky, then at the stroller.

"James," he stiffly said, turning his attention back to the front.

Bucky awkwardly sat down placing the stroller next to his legs, away from Natasha's father, while Steve and Elizabeth sat next to Bucky.

The service was going smoothly up until the priest announced that Natasha's father would be making a speech, catching everyone off guard.

Bucky looked at the older man as he walked up to the stand. He turned around to face his mom, "Did you know this?" he whispered.

"No I didn't," she shook her head.

Right as Mr. Romanoff was about to start speaking, Poppy began to cry. Bucky quickly went to get her out of the stroller, while Steve quickly went to grab a bottle to help him out.

As soon as the baby calmed down Mr. Romanoff began to speak.

"First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for coming," he begins, "I really appreciate it. Natasha would be eternally grateful for all of you."

Bucky started to get annoyed by the beginning of Mr. Romanoff's speech. As if the man didn't turn down the invitation for the last two weeks. Now he's trying to act like the perfect father, as if he didn't kick her out and cut off his pregnant daughter.

"Natasha was a kind hearted person. Only wanting the best for those closest to her. She was the most selfless person you would have ever met," he continued on with his speech.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be confused by Mr. Romanoff's speech. She hated thinking ill of the dead, but that man had no idea who his daughter truly was.

"Natasha was so smart, earning her way into Yale. She was only months away from graduating. I was so incredibly proud of her. If only we would've gotten the opportunity to watch her walk across the stage.

"Other than leaving an everlasting impression on all of us, she also left behind a part of her. Her last moments on Earth was spent bringing in another Romanoff," he says.

Bucky's head snapped up to Mr. Romanoff, then towards Steve.

"Romanoff?" Bucky whispered, "This man has the fucking nerve."

"Ignore him," Steve whispered back, trying to calm Bucky down, "He's just saying all of this to make himself look good."

"Natasha brought her daughter into the world," Mr. Romanoff continued, forcing fake tears to fall, "I remember being by her side as she was in labor."

Bucky clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to call Mr. Romanoff out on his lies.

"As she was dying," Mr. Romanoff paused for dramatic effect, "Her only request was to name her daughter after her."

Steve paled his hand on Bucky's shoulder, trying his best to calm him down. It was too late, Bucky was already placing Poppy in Steve's arms.

"What a fucking lie," Bucky stood up shouting at Mr. Romanoff, causing everyone to gasp.

"James," Mr. Romanoff said through gritted teeth, as a warning.

"How could you just lie to all these people?" Bucky shouted, "How could you lie as if you didn't disown Natasha months prior when she told you she was pregnant. Or when my parents kept inviting you to the funeral, you kept saying no and how Natasha's decisions led to their death. How dare you say you were in the delivery room. As if you didn't have her number blocked. My mom and I were there when things took a horrible turn. We were there when the doctor walked out and told us Natasha didn't make it. Not you! Us!

"Then you go on to make some shitty story about Nat's last words. Which is completely false. Natasha never wanted to name the baby after herself, you'd actually know that if you were actually present in her life. But you weren't. And you sure as hell will never be a part of your granddaughter's life."

Bucky turned to Steve and Liz, "Let's go."

They nodded their heads and helped put Poppy in the stroller. They followed Bucky as he walked out of the chapel.

After leaving the funeral services, Steve was able to calm Bucky down. Winnie had called Elizabeth to let her know that the burial services the next day were officially going to be private. Liz agreed that that'd be best for everyone involved. Especially with what happened during the funeral services.

The burial service was only attended by Bucky, and his family, along with Elizabeth and Steve.

Everything went along smoothly. Everyone giving Bucky the safe space to grieve.

After the burial, everyone gave Bucky a few moments alone at the grave site so he can say his final goodbyes.

"Hey Nat," he pauses taking a deep breath, "these last two weeks haven't been the easiest. But boy have they been amazing. I may be more exhausted than I've ever been, but boy is she worth it.

"She may only be two weeks but I can already tell she's going to be the most amazing person ever," he softly cries, "You would've loved her so much. But like I promised back at the hospital, she'll never not know who her mother was. I will always make sure she knows who you were. Always."

"Goodbye Natasha," he whispered, before walking away to join his family waiting.

Age: 26

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: 2020

"Daddy, what's this?" Poppy calls out to her father from his bedroom.

"What's what petal?" He asked walking into the room, finding her surrounded by boxes, as they prep for their move uptown.

"This," she holds up the small necklace with the 'N'.

Bucky kept that necklace in a small box in his nightstand. He kept it at the bottom of his nightstand for safe keepings. Planning on one day to give it to his daughter. He always planned to wait until she was 16, but he figures now is as good as ever.

"That was your mommy Natasha's," he said walking over to her, and sitting next to her on his bed, "She got it when she was 13, and wore it every day up until when she died."

"It's pretty," she says admiring it in her hands.

"It is isn't it," he smiles at his little girl, "It's now yours."

He grabs the necklace from her little hands. He unclasps it, then gently moves her dirty blonde hair to the side. He places the necklace around her neck, and clasps it shut.

"Thank-you daddy," she smiles brightly at her father, admiring the necklace that now lay on her chest.

Bucky smiled at his daughter, watching as she kept admiring the necklace. It was a little big on her, but he knew she would grow into it.

"Anything for you baby," he kisses the top of her head, "Anything."

63 notes · View notes

dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

Text

Waves: Quarantine

A/N: It's been way too long since I've done something for the Wavesverse, and I apologize deeply. I have a few requests related to this series to complete, but I couldn't knock this idea.

Words: 4K

Warnings: None

Tags: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @hello-therree @mani-lifes @liquorlaughslove @toni9 @koko-michelle @theequeenofcurses @taylortheeshowpony

Waves

Summer placed her phone inside of the mount and made sure that it was secured before she sat back in her bed, getting comfortable with the mass of pillows supporting her back, and smiling tentatively. “Hi, guys.”

Summer!

Someone tell me this isn’t a joke???? Please???

She lives!

Sis, blink twice if you need help.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll better stop. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hopped on live, but it hasn’t been that damn long.”

Summer continued to read the comments where more than a few people pointed out she hadn’t gone live on Instagram in over three months. Her mouth dropped. “Ya’ll lying. It has not been almost six months, has it?” She placed her hand over her mouth when people started dropping dates in the comments. “Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, I’m sorry, guys.”

Don’t be sorry, bestie. Do better!

Damn, ya’ll are so entitled. Celebrities have lives too.

What life? We all been in quarantine.

Rich people quarantine be different from us poor folks, I guess.

“So that’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk about.” Summer cleared her throat. “And I’m going to try really hard to make sure I word what I want to say as clear and as effective as I can, but I know this is still going to end up as a salacious headline. So, it is what it is.”

Oooh, Summer about to drop some tea.

I don’t see her wedding ring, ya’ll…..

I’m scared omg.

Watch this be nothing but a role announcement.

She shrugged and took a deep breath. “Okay, so a few days ago, I did the Buss It challenge, after being harassed by Sanda. And can I just say that filming was a challenge in and of itself? Not necessarily the movements but preparing? I’ve got two kids, twins, who are like the Tasmanian devil. I was literally up at 3 something in the morning trying to record it because my wild children won’t let me be great.” She chuckled. “Kids are something else.”

Summer truly jumped through hoops and was a damn near acrobat trying to figure out when she could not only get herself done up but actually record the challenge. Being the perfectionist that she was didn’t help, but the fact that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put on makeup and dressed up was a whole other fiasco.

Quarantine definitely brought out her bum side.

“All of that aside, I truly was satisfied and happy with the final product when I posted it. In hindsight, I should have just left it that, but I wake up every day and choose chaos, so I decided to read the comments.” She blew out a breath. “One of the most frequent comments and really, insults, I’ve received my whole career. Primarily, since I was cast as Storm, revolves around how I look. I.e., my weight. I’ve been called fat, obese, out of shape, and so many other things.”

It was 100% true. The minute Marvel announced that she’d been chosen to play Storm, the racists came all out of the woodworks. She was too short, too chubby, too dark, too black. And Summer didn’t care, not a bit.

“Even,—and I’ll tell you guys this, when I first started my SS training, that’s what I call it, SS for Storm Shape, there was a—person who worked for Marvel at the time who came to visit me while I was training.” She smiled thinking back on that day. She could still recall it so clearly. “He basically was pissed because to him, I still looked the same, fat and out of shape.” She adjusted her top and shifted in her bed. “That same day, I deadlifted and bench-pressed over 200lbs” She paused for effect. “What I need for people to stop doing is stop fucking projecting—and I’m going to cuss in this, so if you don’t like it, oh well. I work for Disney, but I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m going to say what I want.”

I am screaming. Summer said we getting alll the tea today!

So, it’s wrong to point out that someone is physically unhealthy now, cool?

The problem is that no one wants to see a fat superhero. It’s not realistic.

^^^^ Tell me you have a small dick without actually telling me you have a small dick.

“I saw Lizzo, whom I adore, post a Tik Tok where she basically said that she workouts to have the body she wants not what ya’ll want, and honestly? Same. She said that her body type is no one’s fucking business, and that’s so true. Ya’ll love to hop on this internet and pick apart people you don’t even know and criticize bodies you don’t even have to live in and move around with. And for what?” She shook her head, slamming her fist into her open palm as she spoke. She was fully invested now. “I know we in quarantine, but damn, pick another hobby cause being a bully is not it, sweetie.”

I really needed to hear this today.

Using Lizzo as a point of reference makes everything you’re saying null and void. Lizzo is clearly overweight and at risk for diabetes, heart disease, just to name a few…..

I been saying this! You can’t look at a person and say they’re unhealthy.

Bodies come in so many forms, and all are beautiful.

“Now, I bring all this up because a lot of people were commenting on my Buss It challenge and pointing out the fact that I’ve gained weight, and guess fucking what? I have, and you know what else?” She leaned over to whisper while covering her mouth with her hands for focused effect. “I don’t care.”

Summer laughed and shook her head. “As others have pointed out as well, yes, we have a gym in our house. I 1000% acknowledge the fact that having the resources that I do as a celebrity and someone who has money puts me in a different category. Hell, my husband has a whole fitness app. I recognize that. If I wanted to keep up with my workouts, emphasis on wanted, I could have. I own up to that, but I just didn’t feel like it, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to send and leave mean messages calling me all kinds of names.”

Summer had thick skin. She always had. Growing up with her family, who always ensured to feed her self esteem and make sure she knew that she was beautiful, definitely paid off. It was just a combination of quarantine and not having a lot of opportunities to keep herself busy with work that had her feeling some type of way.

“And that’s something else I wanted to bring up.” She blew out another breath and tried to gather her emotions. This was the subject she was almost certain she’d grow teary eyed discussing. “I love my husband to death. My children are everything. Christopher’s family is like my own, but— I haven’t seen my family, like my mom, grandma, brothers, etc in almost a year.” She paused, dwelling on that. Almost an entire year since she’d been able to physically hug and interact with the people who made her who she was. “And I’ve always made it clear how much I fucking love my family. I live in Australia. I can’t do a drive by with grandma so I and my kids can at least see her on the doorstep.” She quieted again, eyes darting off as she quietly cursed. “I’m trying really hard not to cry right now.”

Please don’t cry, bestie.

This is the side of quarantine that people don’t talk about enough.

Has this woman never heard of FaceTime????

I feel her pain. I live in Europe, and my family is in the states. This quarantine has been brutal.

My grandma died from COVID, and I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Summer is bringing up a good point.

“Damn,” Summer chuckled bitterly and wiped at the tears that fell. “I’m okay, I promise. I just bring this up because quarantine has also been very hard for me in that aspect. At certain points, I’ve been down, I’ve been in my head a lot, and I just was not, for the most part, in a space where I felt like I had to keep up my fitness regimen. And that’s okay. I put my mental wellbeing ahead of making sure my body is socially acceptable. Sue me.”

I really appreciate her honesty.

Summer never goes beyond surface level in interviews, so seeing her this vulnerable is really surprising.

Are we supposed to feel bad for her? She’s rich. She can afford whatever help she needed.

These comments are not passing the vibe check.

Ya’ll are all mental health advocates, but when a black woman is opening up about her struggle, it’s discarded?

“And let me make this clear too, I have an amazing husband who is so patient and so kind. He’s one of the best people I can go to when my anxiety hits, so I don’t want this to come across as me complaining that I’ve been alone. I have him and our children. I just miss the rest of my family. That’s all.” She dried her eyes and started to read the comments, unsurprised by the mixed reaction. She expected as such and was unaffected. At least until she saw one comment.

@ChrisEvans: ❤️❤️❤️

“Evans!” Summer wasn’t expecting to see his name pop up. It’d been such a task convincing him to join IG, let alone teaching him how to operate it. “Let’s go live.”

Not my husband and wife in my head about to go live!!!!

Imagine being able to call Chris Evans your best friend

I still say they smashed idc

It’s Christopher Jamal Evans hopping on this live for me.

^^^ I’m so sick of y’all with that shit.

“Let me try to add him,” Summer spoke to herself, scrolling through the comments to find his so she could request him. “Alright, I requested him. Let’s see if he answers.”

She wondered if she should have sent him a text asking if he was available when he appeared on her screen, effectively splitting it with her on the top and him on the bottom.

“Punk.”

“Kid.”

Summer smiled and greeted, “Hi, best friend.”

He chuckled. “How you doing, Summer?”

“Clearly not as good as the people watching,” she chimed. Summer saw nothing but heart eyes and hearts in the comments. “These people really love you. You truly are a manipulative bastard. He’s an asshole, guys.”

“Don’t be jealous, Summer. It’s so unbecoming of you.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Language,” he playfully reprimanded. “Where are the kids?”

“At preschool. Things are finally starting to open back up over here. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together. “Y’all, please wear masks. Don’t be Karen’s.”

Chris laughed, grabbing his chest. “We’re getting there, Summer.”

“The lies you tell,” she countered. “Don’t A Starting Point, me. Ya’ll are far from getting there, and I’m tired of it. I wanna see my family.”

He sighed. “I know, but how are you feeling today?”

“I got rid of the kids, so that’s definitely a weight lifted,” she answered honestly, laughing when she saw judgmental comments in the chat. “Listen, if you’re a parent, you know where I’m coming from. You love your kids, but my god, sometimes you just need some space.”

“As soon as this all blows over, I told you to send em’ by me for a couple of weeks.”

“Best friend, I already purchased their tickets.” He laughed. “As soon as I get the green light, they are all yours. Feel free to keep them.”

“You guys see how she is?” He pointed to Summer, leaning and squinting to read what was being said. “I do love kids, especially the twins, they’re amazing.”

“He is really really great with them, guys,” Summer added. “One thing about Evans, he’s patient as hell and really, just a big kid. Why do you think him and Christopher get along so well? 40 going on 4.”

“I resent that.”

“Is it a lie though?”

He hesitated. “No.” They both laughed.

I’m loving the dynamic between these two so much.

Is it just me or are they flirting with each other…..

Ain’t nothing inappropriate about this conversation. Ya’ll are reaching…

Ya’ll remember that blind item that came out years ago alleging Chris (Evans) was the biological father of the twins? Hmm…..

^^^^^This kind of bullshit is the reason we’re in a global pandemic.

As always, Summer and Evans ignored any foolery that was being dropped in the comments when she caught a comment that didn’t contain some ridiculous rumor.

“Yes, it is true that Evans and Christopher weren’t allowed to do press together anymore. Ya’ll, they literally could not stay serious for more than a minute. I felt so bad for the poor interviewers.”

“Hey, we were not that bad,” Evans protested, his Boston accent more prominent.

She gasped. “You guys were terrible, Evans, and you know it. I was so mad when they put me with ya’ll those few times. I could barely hear the interviewers over your laughing and stupid commentary that literally no one asked for.”

“We did not.”

“There’s deadass video proof, Evans.”

“Fake news.”

She opened her mouth but caught herself. “I was about to say something.”

He laughed and asked, “Do you remember how we all got drunk before the Infinity War premiere?”

“No, ya’ll got drunk. I was big and pregnant, remember?”

“No,” he dismissed. “You were drinking with us.”

“Evans, how was I drinking when I was pregnant?” She challenged and reminded. “I got drunk with ya’ll for the Endgame premiere, not Infinity War.”

“That’s right,” he remembered and chuckled. “You think we’ll get in trouble for saying this?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re dead, Christopher never gets in trouble for anything, and I do what I want. I think we’re good.”

Kevin Feige watching this live right now like 🥴🥴🥴🥴

I never realized how arrogant she is……

LMAO. Not the whole cast showing up drunk to the biggest premiere of their lives.

Chris Evans is too damn fine to be approaching 40 and still single.

Their friendship is so goals omg

@ChrisHemsworth: Snitches

Summer’s jaw dropped as she caught the last comment, swiping up to click the name and make sure that she was reading correctly. “Christopher, what the hell are you doing on my live?”

Evans brows furrowed. “Hemmy is here? Shouldn’t he be working?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Summer supplied. “And how long have you been watching?”

@ChrisHemsworth: Long enough.

She smiled nervously and looked off to the side. “I feel weird now. I don’t like when he watches my lives.”

“Aren’t you guys married?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up?”

Evans lifted his hands in a defensive manner. “Touchy subject, I see.” They shared another laugh as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you add him now? I’m supposed to be helping Scott cook.”

“My favorite Evans,” she gushed and furrowed her brows. “You, cooking? Since when?”

“Get out of here.” He waved her off and reminded. “I’m not the one who constantly causes near fires when in the kitchen.”

“So, you really just putting all my business out there like that?”

“Summer, it’s not secret to anyone that you can’t cook for shit.”

“Wow, it really be your own best friends.”

He chuckled. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, punk,” she blew a kiss. “I’ll text ya’ later.”

“Alright.” He smiled for the camera. “Thanks for having me everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said jokingly. Evans and Summer said goodbye one last time before he left the live. She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair. “Baby, comment something so I can add you. It’s too many comments to wade through.”

Summer adjusted her phone and checked the time on the clock on the wall. It’d been a while since the kids were away at school, and she didn’t want to get so caught up that she was late picking them up.

@ChrisHemsworth: I can’t. I’m too drunk.

Summer released a mixture of a laugh and a snort reading his comment. “You are so damn petty.” She clicked his name and adjusted her outfit while waiting for him to answer. She almost cursed when it seemed like he wasn’t going to join, only for her to smile when his face appeared on her screen.

“Hi,” she greeted in a soft voice with a small smile.

“Hello, Sandcastle.”

“Did you just—I swear to god, it’s always something with you.” Summer rubbed her temples and shook her head. Christopher smiled in response. “Why aren’t you working?”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re working, how are you talking to me?” She asked, sassily.

“Umm, a little thing called multitasking, ever heard of it?”

“Wow. You are an asshole.”

“That’s mean.”

“You’re mean.”

“Christopher, you are literally a child.”

“Does a child have muscles like this?” He flexed, and Summer stilled. Christopher stayed in ridiculous shape, but this was another level. He’d never been this massive, and she wasn’t too proud to admit that. Just not aloud.

She faked a yawn. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

They really just be roasting each other all the time, and I’m here for it.

Summer must be legally blind because this man is stupid fine tf

It’s gotta be steroids. That’s not natural.

^^^^^He’s the god of thunder.

Summer rolled her eyes at the typical nature of the comments. These were the reasons she limited her time on social media and especially stayed away from reading the comments. Her attention was redirected to the top of her phone. It was a text from Christopher asking her to call him.

“But we’re—oh, I get it.” She realized he wanted to talk to her, not her and her tens of millions of followers. “Alright, guys, I’m gonna get off here so I can talk to my husband, alone.”

“She just doesn’t want to share me with you all, that’s all.”

“Don’t even start, Christopher,” she lectured while he laughed and got serious, for a minute tops.

“Hope you all are taking care and staying safe,” he spoke honestly. “And we’ll talk to you soon.”

Summer waved and smile. “Bye, guys. Remember to be kind.” Summer offered a final smile before ending the live. Closing up the app, she moved to open FaceTime and called up Christopher. He answered almost immediately. “You know I hate when you watch my Lives. Now, how much did you see?”

“Enough to know you’re coming to see me tonight.”

She laughed aloud. “Funny.”

“I’m serious, Summer.” Focusing on him, she realized that there was no humor in his voice nor his expression. Summer also noticed that he didn’t have the Thor wig on yet, which was probably why he was able to go live with her. He was waiting to get into hair and makeup. “Leave the kids with Liam. It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

“Christopher!”

“What? Is he not a professional unemployed bastard.”

Summer’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You are so mean.”

“I’ll handle the flight arrangements. You, my beautiful wife, just make sure you get on the jet so I can handle you.”

“Christopher, you’re working. People with everyday jobs don’t just up and show up to their spouses workplace because they miss them or need a break from the kids. That’s how folks get fired.”

Christopher started to move around, walking somewhere, she realized. “What are you doing?”

“Hey, Tike.”

Summer’s eyes widened slightly. “Christoper!”

“Sup, man?” Taika asked casually, as Summer laughed again. Taika Waititi was such a character.

“You mind if Summer comes up for a few days?”

“Sure, man,” he replied almost right away. “Bring the kids and chickens too.”

“I am not bringing those damn chickens,” she immediately protested.

Christopher made a sound. “Ha, so you are coming!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Taika joined Christopher so that he was in camera. “Hey, Summer, why don’t you come on join? You can have a cameo. Chickens, too.”

She rubbed her temples. Taika’s and Chris’s friendship would never not make sense to her. They were cut from the same cloth. “One, hey. Two, I was already in Ragnarok. I’m good on the cameos. Three, what is with ya’ll and those creepy looking chickens?”

“Whoa, creepy? What did the chickens ever do?”

“Exist,” Summer answered dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven Evans and Christopher for convincing her to let the kids keep those damn things. Her home was becoming more and more of a farm with each animal that joined the household.

“Tough crowd, that one, ehh?”

“Always,” Christopher agreed.

“I can hear you both,” she reminded and groaned loudly. Summer would love to spend a few days away from the kids. Chris would be working, yes, but she’d at least get some time for herself. Even better, alone adult time with her husband. That had also been a bit tricky during quarantine because of her rambunctious twins. Still, she disliked using her status as a celebrity to gain things, and this would definitely be a case of using status for pull. “I don’t know….”

Deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that Chris had walked away and returned to wherever he was prior to finding Taika, most likely his trailer.

“What if you only stayed a night?” Chris tried to bargain. “The flight is only an hour and a half. That will give you more than enough time to come here, let me fix you dinner, run you a nice bath, maybe get in the good ole’ horizontal tango—”

“You know I hate when you call it that,” she reminded quietly, admitting. “That does sound nice, though.”

“Or, I can come to you—“

“Absolutely not. Christopher, you’re already doing so much back and forth as it is.” One of the good things to come out of quarantine, to Summer at least, was that it forced many people to take a much needed break. Her husband was one of those people. Christopher had been working nonstop since she met him. Project after project, film after film, many of them Marvel films, which put a whole other layer of difficulty what with the strenuous physical requirements. Even now as he shot Thor 4, he was in the best shape he’d ever been, muscles nearly tearing the cotton of his clothes. He looked amazing, but it was what they couldn’t see that she was starting to grow a little concerned over. Christopher wasn’t as young as he once was. He had to slow down, eventually.

Summer realized this would be a perfect chance to have a conversation about just that with him, which all but led her to her final decision.

“Alright,” she conceded, finger up as she made her demands. “Three days, and I stay at the house while you shoot. We may be returning to normal, but we’re still in a pandemic. I won’t go around anyone except you.”

“So I get you all to myself? Hardly consider that a stipulation.”

“And…we talk.”

“After the horizontal tango—“

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling it that—“

“What was that, sweetheart? I wasn’t listening.” She saw that he had paused the screen, causing Summer to remember that she hadn’t even consulted with the babysitter. “Making flight arrangements for you.”

“Shit, let me text Liam and make sure he’s available.”

“He gets reception in the box?”

“Christopher! For the last time, your brother is not living in a box.”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Goodbye, Christopher,” she prepared to end the call before smiling softly. “I love you, Christopher, and thank you.”

He winked. “I’ll always do anything for you, Summer. Anything.” A beat. “Don’t forget to leave the clothes. You won’t need them.”

“Christopher!”

#chris hemsworth x black!oc #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth fandom #chris hemsworth fanfiction #fic: waves

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crookedmusician · 3 years

Text

Once Again

A/N:- This is just a drabble that popped up in my head and is based on "The Amazing Spider-Man" universe, NOT based on the Marvel mcu. If you haven't watched the movies then pls read this with an open mind. The drabble is also fixed in a time that is five years after Gwen dies and is completely based on my thought and universe. Please don't read it if you're not comfortable.

Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Genre : Slight Angst, Comfort, Slice of Life

Warnings : Very Slight and descriptive mentions of wounds and death, the characters are all adults, Y/N has a defined profession for the sake of the plot

*This is also not proof read so please bare with any errors if there are any*

It's been Five years.

Five years since Gwen's funeral. Five years since New York city was almost destroyed. Five Years since an innocent boy lost his sanity to death. Five Years since Peter Parker was too late to save his love, his best friend and his emotions to grief.

It had been Five years since that faithful day that still seemed to haunt Peter from time to time.

After the......incident happened, five years ago, Peter had shut off. He didn't talk, eat or even go to work. His job was willing to let him off that time, but the mental pressure that had bundled up inside Peter's head had refused to go. As a result, even after Peter came back, he was only a shell of himself, an empty treasure from which the gold had been stolen - just like how life was stolen from the eyes of so many he failed to save on that one dreadful day.

But If anything broke Peter more than his incompetency to save the lives of those millions he failed, it was the death of Gwen. Death of the only person Peter beleived to have given him a purpose to be Spiderman and save the city and it's residents. His reason to survive every battle he fought. His best friends, girlfriend and his reason, to just live.

Peter still remembers that day, that moment as clear as day. He still remembers the catastrophe that was caused that day, the destruction, the smell of death and spilled blood that matted the air in a heavy silence. He still remembers how the life wilted out from Gwen's eyes as she fell from the tower, as he held her afterwards; he still remembers how her once warm body turned deadly pale, her cheeks stopped sport the regular blush - and they all haunted him. They Traumatized Peter through his day, haunted his nightmares and swam in front of his mind each and every moment he lived. So Peter did the only thing he thought might help, he shut off everyone out of his life, he shut off the flow of emotions in his being, & he swore to never let anyone in, he vowed to not care about anything except defending NYC against the new villains attacking everyday.

Cause Peter Parker may have been a hero, but his emotions flowed through his veins as thickly as the spider's venom in his blood. So promised, to shut out and never let anyone in. That became his coping mechanism.

Yet again, five years later that same spider-boy found himself in the exact position he had been in, five years prior - sitting on the bed of a rooftop apartment while the huge scratches on his chest were being cleaned by the slender hands of a young woman sitting in front of him. It was an awkward kind of deja vu for Peter - Both hurting and comforting to know that someone - other than May cared for him still, however the recollection couldn't help but bring those ugly thoughts back into the forefront of Peter's mind. The same thoughts that occupied his mind in the waking hours.

The scratches burned and sizzled under the alcohol, even though it was applied with softness and expertise; but Peter didn't Flinch. Yes, there was a slight wince here and there, but no reaction revealed was too strong. Years of constant battle against the seemingly never-ending villains of New York happened to make Peter a bit more cautions and tolerating of his injuries - something that seemed to work greatly in favour of Peter at the moment - so as to not make the budding doctor in front overthink her capabilities.

Was New York always so needy and loud for the Spider-Man? This was something that occupied Peter's head often.

However, when he thought back on it, perhaps it was better for him to put his life on the line than have someone innocent or desiderate to live to fight the devils.

I mean, he did fit all the requirements for this job didn't he?

He was young, had the abilities, tolerant of the aftermaths of the fights he carried carved in his skin, bones and blood. Moreover he didn't have anyone to rely on or care for - May would be able to live with him, his job wasn't so special to him if he didn't require the money either. On the contrary Peter thought it to be a blessing to die - to forget all the turmoils, catastrophes of the world; to forget how many villains needed to be fought or how many people needed to be saved - to just forget.

Peter always thought, that maybe he wasn't made for love. That maybe he didn't deserve it. He thought about how everyone he loved left him, deserted him and thinking back on them, he just wondered how much love favoured him in this life. Maybe love didn't favour him at all, maybe love hated him, maybe that's why death always won in each of his chapters. Maybe that's why, Peter had become a void - because love refused to favour the life of this boy. He never really understood why lover never looked upon him with a smile. But guess there was never really an explanation for some grudges.

But if love never favoured him, Then what was this sudden weird electric sparks coursing through his body? This weird fluttering that seemed to keep him up at nights thinking about this one person that flew in his life and and broke past all his resolves to nestle herself comfortably inside the confines of the walls surrounding his heart?

And Peter really never could understand what was happening in his body. At first he thought that perhaps it was his spidey senses. But after a while, when he actually came to a conclusion, he was dumbfounded. Being deprived of love and refusing the comfort of any other hands rather than his own for such a long time - the revelation - was actually quite unexpected by him.

But to say that Peter didn't see all of the unfolding and development of feelings, would be a mistake. Mayhaps, Peter did knew what was happening, did knew that he was falling in a bottomless hole; but the feeling of letting go, the feeling that encompassed the journey was so blissfull it was hard to deny himself the pleasure after denying it for such a long while.

So we recount to a faithful afternoon, two years prior, to an empty & silent alley in one of the bustling streets of NYC.

XXX ♤♡◇♧ XXX

It was just another day in the life of Peter Parker - waking up, packing his suit, taking an early leave or going on a feild trip for his job only to fight the villains and end up all bloody. The only difference was the gushing wound on one of Peter's upper legs that seemed way worse than his regular wounds.

Peter seeked sanctum in one of the empty alleys of the New York Streets to treat the wound only to find himself looking sideways at a young bespectacled woman with curious eyes, hair in a messy bun, clutching one strap of a heavy-looking backpack with some folders and pages in the other - she was staring at him with worry in her orbs.

Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, he'd hit up some pick up lines and flee as far as possible with his wounded leg and never meet the girl again - it was simple and easy without any damage to either his social or personal life. And it would've been easy and simple - Only if Peter had been wearing his mask. But he sadly wasn't, and now he gazed back like a deer caught in the headlights as the figure approached him slowly and cautiously and stopped a few feet away.

"Can you walk?" The words were almost whispered with caution.

"Excuse me?" Peter said in a breathless voice; swinging through the city with an almost torn-off leg does hurt more than Peter imagined, after all.

"Can You walk? With that leg of yours?"

"Yes, I suppose. But why?" Peter asked with confusion and weariness.

"Then please come to the top floor. I can treat your wound."

The clutch of the strap got a bit tighter as the words tumbled out of her lips in the hushed silence of the alley. To say Peter was surprised would be an understatement; it had been a while since someone willingly wanted to help him. But then again, Peyer wasn't weak, was he? He surely could handle that little much laceration wound on his own, right? So just like Peter have always done, to all his colleagues, his neighbours, supposed friends, associates and May, he declined.

"Thank you for the offer but I can Handle this on my own," Peter uttered in the same dazed voice, opting to turn his head down as if signalling the end of the conversation.

"I'm sure you can," the voice chirped again to fill the whispery silence, "to the best of your abilities, but It would be better if I had a look at it. I'm a medical student so I'll be able to ptch it up reall quick too. Besides to treat you'd have to either swing or walk back to your home, and you really can't do either with that deep of a cut anyways. So let me have a look at it, please."

"I said I you do-"

"No you can't, you may clean it or patch it up until you can do it up but the slash is huge, don't you see? If you don't treat it immediately, your whole leg would either get infected or you'll bleed to raw. And I don't think you'l be able to swing your way around the city with a half infected leg anyways. So Please for your leg's sake enter the third window from the right on the top floor of this building so I can nurse the damage. I'll try to get there ASAP," and with that the girl hurried inside a door on the side of the monument on right.

Peter however, was still failing to recover from his daze, and by the time her words actually registered in his head the wound had started to sizzle with wind. He gathered his own stuffed backpack and as slowly and painlessly he can, followed the instructions.

Peter swung to top of the building & crept insided the bedroom of a rooftop apartment that looked very comfy despite being a complete definition catastrophe to found himself in a pair of freshly washed shirt and jogging shorts half an hour later - the girl said they belonged to her father and brother previously.

Peter stared at the unknown woman as she wrapped up the incision in a white cloth. Her fingers were skilled & worked in a quick yet sure manner.

"You can handle pain very well you know?" The woman broke the awkward silence with a glance at Peter's face only find him staring back at her with a monotone face, "the area around the gash had already started getting infected, if I found you a bit later your leg might've fallen off. Still you're very lucky. Thankfuy no valuable nerve was heavily dama-"

"Why are you helping me?" The rambling was interupted by the strict and straight voice of the spidey

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I can? Am I not allowed to help you? You looked like you needed some serious help though," The woman asked tilting her head slightly.

"Is it a plot?" Years of practice had certainly helped Peter maintain a Poker face, which came in handy as he stared at the confused eyes of the woman in front of him - his heart deeming the expression to be cute.

"A plot?" The woman repeated as she looked at him in disbelief, "You think l'm helping you because l'm involved in a...a...a stupid gang or something that wants to murder you?"

"Or it could be an individual plan," Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he dared not remove his eyes from his supposed - captor.

"An individual pl-?"

"Why else would you help me? If not for your own benefit?"

At this The woman seemed to become a little pissed at Peter's words as she sputtered with her next sentences before finally giving a coherent reply, "Maybe fighting with evel people all your life makes you heroes feel as if good people don't exist but trust me, they do. And quite contrary to your assumptions I just so happen to be one of them."

The woman tied the cloth around Peter's leg in a tight knot & rose from her seat collecting the equipments back in her first aid box, opting to leave the room, offended - instead finding herself halting mid-step at peter's voice calling out to her.

"I'm Peter," Peter gazed at her retreating figure and as she turned around to look at him with judging eyes, "Peter Parker."

The words were uttered into the sunset in a softer tone - as if the speaker was almost shy, which - looking back at the circumstances - Peter probably was. And as the dying rays of the sun filtered through the drawn back curtain of the only window in the room - the one Peter had entered through - encasing the room in all it's ethereal glow, Peter was able to finally get a glimpse of his healer, clearly.

The rays fell on the bed and on womanly figure, bathing her in the delicate glow of dusk, highlighting her dainty features. She was handsome, very much so in the afyernoon light; and despite being pissed and offended a few mintues prior, she took her time in tilting the corners of her lips into a soft amd pleasant smile as the injured man stared at her in awe - that was perfectly hidden beneath his Poker Face.

"I'm Y/N L/N." The names etched itself in Peter's brain ringing sweet bells everytime, serenading him into calmness.

And so since that fateful day, it became a regular event. Whenevr Peter would get hurt - no matter how small or big the wound, he'd always find himself on the doorstep (or window sill), of the tenth floor building on the same street he never remembered the name of. And slowly as the days swept by, the visits weren't just limited to treating wounds. Infact, contary to either of their professions, Peter found both of them had quite a lot in common, and their opinions generally matched - and for the ones that didn't, both of their adjustable manners suited the situations. And as the days brew into nights, Peter found a companion in Y/N - one that Peter hoped lasted for life.

Peter found a best friend to look after him and talk with on rainy days and summer evenings.

××× ♤♡◇♧ ×××

Now, two years later as Peter sat on the same bed he had so many times before, he thought back on all the bitter and sweet memories Life gifted him, and perhaps they were needed for Peter to bring him to this point in life - and Peter never wanted to go back.

It was late. The sun had gone down a few hours prior and the moon glowed brightly in the sky, peeking in through the windows as Peter observed the familliar figure beside him - nursing another one of Peter's daily unwanted gifts.

She looked dainty, almost unreal as the moonlight illuminated the room casting it in the soft glow of night time. As Peter gazed at her, he started carving out all the plains and roughs of her faces, the shape of her eyes, lips and nose, the way her lithe fingers glided across Peter's skin - and Peter couldn't find it in himself to intrupt the dance her fingers were engaged in on his chest. A light breeze swept in through the wind making rounds of the room and messing with the strands hanging around Y/N's face as Peter gazed at the seemingly engaging spiral of movements infront of him.

"Staring is rude, you know?"

The peaceful silence occupying the room was suddenly broken, giving Peter a small start, as Y/N lifted her head barely so as to glance up at Peter's face, her lips curving into a small smirk at the look of slight surprise on his face, before her skilled hands resumed their work.

After a breif moment of comprehension - and more staring as Y/N wrapped up the gashes and stood up to starighten the sheets on the bed as much she could with the tall figure lying on top, Peter finally found his voice strong enough to utter the two words - that he hoped would convey all that was unsaid and all that he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Thank You."

Y/N looked up once again at Peter with a teasing yet soft grin and breathy chuckle, "Pete, don't be so modest about yourself. Patching up your wounds provide me an excuse to practise my skills on a regular basis. And as a junior doc, It's more benifitting to me that it is to you."

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as Y/N turned around to put the first aid box at the top of one of her bedroom shelves, "Still thank you, for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it."

And this time as Y/N turned around to look at her best friend, she paused for a second, taking in the scene before her. The moon casted the same glow on Peter's form as it had on her back - except this time, the star gazed one was Y/N.

She had always wondered how she never once felt awkward with the close proximity, she always seemed to share with Peter. Her heart once whispered because they were menat to be; but the rational part of her brain was quick to shut down the irrational daydream before it could flourish. However the warmth of her cheeks when Peter looked at her, the tiny fluttering in her stomach whenever he'd smile, the warmth in her being when they hugged couldn't be stopped from spreading all through her body.

There were nights, when she wondered how it would be if she was brave enough to turn the page to the next chapter and just ask her best friend out. But then again, even though happiness was granted if the proposal was accepted - the pain, heartbreak and loss of warmth in their friendship, at the refusal was granted in a much greater probability. And thus Y/N drifted off to sleep every night thinking of all the 'ifs' of the world.

But this wasn't the world of dreams, it was the waking world, and as Y/N realised the soft glow in Peter's eyes when he looked at her, she wondered - no, hoped that her feeling might probably be reciprocated.

"It's honestly no biggie Pete. It really isn't," She neared the bed as she said the words, finally sitting upon it with one leg folded on the matress and the othe rdangling down the side, her eyes searched Peter's face carefully noticing the genuine-ness behind Peter's words, "however what is a problem is that you've hadn't had a single mouthful since the meager breakfast this morning. Honestly dude, don't you ever get hungry? If I wa sin your place I'd be starving! Heck, I'm starving even now!"

Peter let out a small breathy laugh at Y/N's dramatics. She always tended to be the more dramatic one, especially regarding matters of food. So sporting a soft smile he looked up Y/N.

"No I'm fine, I'd just have something to eat when i get home."

"Home? Do you even know how late it is?! It's," she hekd up the digital clock on the side of her bed, "9.15 already! You literally live on the other side of the city! By the time you reach your home it would be way past 10! I ain't letting you starve till then boy!"

By now, Y/n had stood up on her feet in front of the bed with her hands on her hips - and Peter found it to be way too cute for her, "Call up Aunt May and tell her that you'll be eating here today. I'll go and start whipping something up in the kitchen, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good," Y/N turned around & exited the room heading down the halls to the kitchen, to scour how much she can that would fill both her and Peter up, while Peter rested on her bed.

Ever since that incident five years ago, Peter had always wondered that maybe love wasn't really meant for him, that maybe love didn't favour him. But now, as he stared at the moonlit retreating figure of Y/N L/N, he prayed to all the love gods in existence, to favour him just this once as he drafted up the same confession, he had been drafting for the past years, to finally come out of his heart and in to minds of the beauty he called his bestfriend.

A/N : Pls tell me how you like it in the comments this is my first story and I would really appreciate the feedback!

Please don't repost or rwupload my work anywhere apart from here.

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me (Pt. 07 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

If You Love Me...

You've seen death. Often, cruel, cold. From afar and from up close. You felt it, in many different ways. At first when your family passed away, then your friends... And you felt it in your body too, in the months you spent held captive, wishing for it. And in the car, as you waited for it.

But it's different now. You were holding onto Melanie when she stopped moving, stopped breathing, the second after the baby cried for the very first time. Her whole body went numb, turned off. She knew her pregnancy was dangerous. Melanie is old, and she had a heart condition. That was the reason why she never tried for a baby before. But now, with the world on its end, she decided to try. Death is certain, she told you once, and if she died in the process of delivering her child, she'd die happy. With a purpose.

But of course, you never thought it would actually happen.

The commotion that followed happened in a blur. Carol passed you the child in a hurry, pushing you out of the room.

You know what happens now. Daryl told you a while ago. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone is infected. You try not to think about it, to focus on life instead of death.

And that's what you're holding in your arms now. Life. Tiny and fresh, his little cries making your body move out of instinct, slowly swinging from side to side until he's quiet again.

When it's done, and Melanie's dead body won't raise up again, Carol comes and you help her clean the baby. Luke, after her late husband. Denise is quick to gather all the baby supplies needed, and she starts telling you and Carol what to do. Carol already knows, of course, because of her daughter Sofia.

It's quite obvious Carol will take care of the child. It's implied by how Denise is so focused on her, talking fast, gesturing a lot. She's a little funny actually, and easy to talk to. Once little Luke is clean and dressed in his first clothes, in a pale shade of blue, Carol picks him up and he starts crying, with powerful lungs. She starts mumbling, talking to the baby, but he doesn't stop.

“Alright, alright.” She whispers. “Shh.”

“Does he need anything?” You ask, watching as Carol bounces him slowly.

“We did everything. Maybe he's in pain.” Denise removes some of the hair that has fallen on her face. “Let's take him to the infirmary so I can take a look.”

“Ok.” Carol agrees, raising her voice above the baby's cries. “(Y/N), can you carry him? These bags are too heavy for you and–” You quickly step forward, once again welcoming the baby into your arms “–you still need to be careful with your...” Her voice fades as Luke stops crying, his tears shining on his cheeks.

He's so light you feel like you're barely holding anything. “He stopped,” Denise mutters. “I don't think he was in pain.”

Looking down at the baby, you stand there, motionless. “What do you think it was?” You ask in a low voice.

“Uhm, I don't know. Maybe he likes you.” She mumbles, hands on her hips. “Carol, do you think you can take care of him? If not we'll have to find a family willing to adopt.”

“We can.” You burst out, because suddenly the idea of giving Like into another family sounds absurd. “Can we? I'm sure you can teach me and I'll help.”

“We sure can.” She affirms, and you smile. “Let's get going now. They will soon come to bury Melanie.” Her voice gets darker in the end, heavier.

The whole city attempted to Melanie's funeral. You stood there, beside Carol, little Luke in your arms. You felt anxious when some people came to meet the baby, offering you their condolences and any help you might need now. But eventually, she's buried, and you can't help but let a few tears roll down. Melanie was always kind and wise, and it breaks your heart that Luke won't get to know his mother.

In the next days, Carol has been teaching you everything about babies. Teaching you how to look after him. The baths, how to prepare the baby bottle, how to deal with fevers, and stuff like that. You make a hell lot of questions, eager to know every single thing you can.

Your days revolve around Luke, what is good because you don't have time to think about Daryl and the possibility of him not wanting anything with you. The possibility that those warm nights in his arms are over.

Carol helps you get into a good schedule with the baby. You take turns waking up when he starts crying at night, but despite him growing used to Carol, she takes longer to rock him to sleep again. Luke feels better around you, she says. And honestly, you don't mind one bit. Carol assures you the cryings will get worse. Newborn babies sleep a lot, and with time, he'll need less sleep and that's when things will get hectic. But you're ok with it. You're mesmerized by him, so tiny, so innocent. A beacon of light in such a dark world. It's like a miracle to have a baby here, in an Earth where now the dead can walk again.

As the days pass by, you notice that you easily learn your way with Luke. Carol calls it mother instinct, but you never thought you had it in you... You never really thought about kids, but now... Maybe you could have one...

This thought reminds you of Daryl. Having a baby means you'll have to be very intimate with someone. And you can't imagine being intimate with anyone who isn't Daryl. Sighing, you look through the window of Luke's bedroom. It used to be Daryl's, but since he's sleeping in yours, Carol thought it would be ok to change things. So all of his stuff were reallocated to give Luke his space. Even though he doesn't need much now, being so little.

You haven't told Daryl about it yet. Your talks are always brief, just enough for you to know he's alright and for him to know you're alright as well.

Today, another sweet and slow morning, you're at the couch, a sleepy Luke in your arms. Carol is doing the dishes and getting some stuff ready for lunch. The kids will be coming, so she has something special planned. You'll help her in a few moments when Luke is asleep enough so you can leave him in his crib upstairs.

“I'm going to make cookies for the afternoon. What do you think?” She asks from the kitchen in a low voice.

“The kids will love it.” You say, turning your head to look at her. “When are you going to tell me your secret ingredient?”

“Never, obviously.” She answers and you giggle. “You would have to–” Her voice fades suddenly, and you listen as she puts something down. “Honey, I think they're back.”

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Let me check.” She says and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Well, not alone. Looking down at Luke, you smile when he moves his hand, grabbing something in his sleep. He's so oblivious to the war happening in your heart now. In your brain. This is it. He's back one day earlier than planned, but even though you knew the time was coming, you couldn't prepare yourself for it. Breathing deeply, you caress Luke's forehead, very lightly as if he's a fragile little thing. His mouth moves a little as if he's trying to speak and you giggle.

“What are you dreaming about, little one?” You ask him, wondering if babies can even dream. Maybe Denise knows, you'll ask her later.

“(Y/N).” His voice startles you, and you immediately look up from Luke, meeting Daryl's blue eyes as he stands by the door.

“D.” Smiling you quickly scan through his body, relieved not to find any sign of injury. “You're back.”

“Aye.” He mumbles. “Ya always have a kid with ya when I come back” He adds, stepping closer to the cough and giving the baby a look. “Who's this?”

“This is Luke. Melanie's baby, she... She couldn't make it.” The happiness fades a little, and Daryl seems a little sad as well.

“Was it her heart?”

“Yeah. It just stopped.” Sighing, you keep your eyes on Daryl. His face softens a little. “She told me once you know... That she'd rather die bringing her child to the world than in any other way but I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Who's gonna take care of him now?”

“I'm the designated mother.” You mumble, smiling.

Daryl looks up from the kid, eyes meeting yours. “By who?” You see a hint of anger in his eyes and you know why. He thinks someone pushed into it, and Daryl hates when people push you into things. Since the very beginning. He did have a fight with Rick when he first showed up here, wanting you to speak about your past. Now it's just a little bit worse. Daryl is very protective, and you can't help but smile to know this hasn't changed. Not yet.

“By him.” Tilting your head to the kid, you giggle when Daryl's face changes, softening again. “Kid likes me, what can I do?”

“Huh.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“Lemme shower. ‘M covered in mud and I don't wanna to give ya or the baby an infection or anythin’.” He says, already moving upstairs.

“Alright.” Settling down again, you bounce Luke a little, but by the looks of it, he's in deep sleep already. “What happens now, little one? Can you please tell me?” In a low voice, you ask him. If only anyone could answer that...

“Where's Daryl?” Carol asks as she comes inside, closing the door.

“Showering.”

“Let me put him in his crib.” She comes to the couch, and you carefully lies Luke in her arms. “You two need to talk.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, watching as she moves upstairs.

You don't want to talk to Daryl. Maybe you shouldn't have spoken to him about your feelings. What if it's too early? Things were perfect before and you don't think you can take it if he wants to... End things? Change things? “Shit.” Quickly, you get up, leaving the house. Running away is not your thing. Not when it comes to Daryl. The only running there is, is when you run into his arms. But now, you just can't. And you don't know where to go. So you just start walking downstreet, trying not to think too much. There isn't anywhere to hide here. If Daryl wants to find you, he will.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and after the usual terror, you recognize Maggie's voice, turning on your heels to look at her. “Daryl's back. Go see him.”

“I-I know.” Stuttering, you look at the street, making sure Daryl isn't anywhere he can see you before you make your way over her. “I just...”

“I thought you two were ok. Before he left I swear to God I thought you'd kiss him.” She climbs down the few steps of the porch, but you gesture for her to go back inside.

“We are.” Maggie has become a close friend. And if you don't talk about this things with someone, nobody will be able to help. “Uhm... I...”

“C'mon in.” She opens the door and steps aside. “Glenn isn't here so don't worry.”

“Ok.” Sighing, you step in, moving to the couch and taking a seat.

“Now...” Maggie comes and sits beside you, a leg folded under herself. “...why aren't you in Daryl's arms right now?”

It's not a secret anymore, Daryl and you. It eventually got out of the house, you don't really know how. “Because I... Goddamn it! I told him I wanted us to be a couple. Right before he left so he could think about it and now I'm terrified of what he'll say and I'm running from him.” You speak fast, hands covering your face. “I freaking love him.”

That's it. The words just came out. You freeze, breathing fast, the weight of the acknowledgment making a few tears roll down. You lie back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

“So... Do you want me to act surprised?”

“I want him to love me too.” It comes out as a whisper because this can't be heard by anyone. Not even by Maggie. But that already happened.

“Daryl allowed you to touch him. In public. And he touched you. Again, in public.” Maggie touches your leg, shaking it a little to get your attention, only stopping when you sit up again. “If he didn't love you back, that wouldn't happen.”

“Daryl... May like me. He's very protective and I love that since... Well, since all that shit happened but... Maybe this is it.”

“I don't think so. Daryl always makes sure everyone is safe, but with you it's different.”

Sighing, you wonder if you should believe that. Maybe, if you keep your hopes low, you won't get hurt.

No. You'll get hurt anyways. “I think I should go...”

“Yeah, he'll come here looking for you.”

“Maybe...” Pushing yourself back at your feet, you take a deep breath. “I'll... Take a walk.”

“You know he'll find you, right?” She says, following you to the front door.

“I know... Thanks, Maggie.” Smiling at her, you walk away, always careful in the steps before heading to the garden on the West side of the city.

There are some people here, not much though, but you still keep a distance. By the wall, there's a small square, if you can call it that, with some benches and threes. The kids come to play here some days, but it's not their favorite place. Taking a sit, strategically by a three so it'll hide you, you cross your legs. The wind makes you shiver since the thought of bringing a coat didn't even cross your mind. But it's beautiful here, and lonely. Few people come here, and you rather be alone. At least now, to think.

“Never thought ya would run from me.” His voice makes your heart skip a bit, and you do feel a little guilty. You're not sure why though. Silently, you watch as he comes to stand before you.

“I'm not...” You're were running away. No reason to try to dissimulate. “I just needed some time. Thought you would need some too, so...”

“Had plenty of time out there.” Raising your head to look at him, you can't shake the feeling he always brings you. Safety, warmth, home...

“Yeah... But you don't have to... I mean, what I said before, you don't have to...”

“We need ta’ talk. But not here, c'mon.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, pulling yourself up. “Ya need me ta’ carry ya?”

“No, I can walk.” If he's about to end things, the best you can do it put some distance already.

You walk at the fastest pace you can, eager to just end this. To know what happens now and work from there.

The moment you get to the house, Carol leaves, telling you Luke is asleep and he won't be up for a few hours.

So you go back to the couch, sitting down and bracing yourself, preparing for the worst. Daryl sits beside you but doesn't say anything. Bouncing your leg, you curse yourself for what you did. You know Daryl isn't the one to talk about his feelings, and you don't want to push him to.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have–”

“Ya wanna be with me. Why?” He bursts out, and you look at him. Daryl has his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Because I–” Are you really gonna say it? Can you tell him that? Isn't it too soon? Or too late? “I really, really like you... More than a friend or a protector.”

“Ya shouldn't. ‘M way older than ya and yer–”

“Daryl, it's not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn't do. Or feel.” Cutting him short, you turn your body towards him, touching his arm, relieved when he finally looks up into your eyes. “I know you think very low of yourself. I'm well aware of the age thing, but I don't care. What I need to know is how you feel about me.” Making a pause, you take a deep breath. This isn't easy, but you have to talk. To somehow make it easier for him, if that's even possible. “It's alright if you don't. I-I know you don't like talking about this, but I just need to know if... If there's anything else... If you feel this way about me too...”

“I like ya, (Y/N).” He says in a very low voice, you can barely hear it. “And ya shouldn't have feelings for me.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, lemme talk.” He cuts you off, faking an angry tone. Raising an eyebrow, you nod. “Ya shouldn't. Yer... Young an’ pretty an’ I can't ruin ya. Ya deserve someone better than me.”

“I don't want anyone else, Dixon.” It breaks your heart when he talks like that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Who he really is, not this messed up an image he has of himself. “And you won't ruin me. I don't even know what you meant by that, but that's not true, Daryl, I... If you want this... If you want me, you won't ruin me. You'll make me very, very happy.”

You're happy you managed to say all that, despite the many pauses and all the stuttering. There is much more to say, but the time will come. For now, everything you need is to know how he feels.

“I think yer making a mistake, but... I've been thinkin’ and... I don't like bein’ away from ya.”

A smile starts making its way to your lips. “Does it mean that...”

“Yeah, I guess it means that.” He affirms, still not wanting to say the words.

“...Are we going to be a couple?” You have to be sure before celebrating it.

“Yeah.”

“Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ya need me ta’ drawn it to ya?” He bursts out, an annoyed expression on his face.

Giggling, you raise an eyebrow. You love this side of Daryl and you hope to see more of it. “Sassy Daryl is one of my favorite Daryls.” You say, moving to his lap, straddling his hip. A second later you realize what you did, your cheeks burning. Daryl is red too, and he's not sure what to do with his hands, but you soon feel them on your waist. “So... Oh, I don't know if you noticed but your room was claimed by a newborn child.”

“Yeah, I noticed the crib.”

“So you're now permanently stuck in my bedroom. Hope it's not a problem.” Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. You then realize you haven't kissed him yet. And, hell, you want to.

“Not at all.”

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out suddenly, too fast, and you look down, wondering if he can listen to your heart since it's beating insanely fast.

“Ya want to?” He almost stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah...” Nodding, you move closer, eyes closing, and your skin burning in anticipation.

You jump to hear the front door opening, head immediately turning to find Carol. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you and Daryl like this...

“I–”

“Carol, I need you to go away. Like right now.” You tell her, urgency in your voice. You don't want the moment to pass, and you just need to kiss him. Right now. It's like a matter of life and death. “Please.” You decide to add.

“Alright, alright.” Raising her hands, she quickly goes upstairs, and you settle down again, hoping Daryl hasn't changed his mind.

“Ok... Can I–”

You feel his lips on yours before you can finish, and you don't mind at all. Pushing yourself closer to him, you deepen the kiss, completely inebriated by him. The pace is slow at first, as if you're getting to know each other, feeling each other, but then it changes, faster, full of need. You get the sensation he doesn't believe this is happening, by the way his arms hold you as if you would disappear. You won't. This is where you want to be, right here, with him.

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