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vivwritesfics · 12 days

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Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter One - Death

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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10 Years Ago:

When you're a part of a crime family, death is all one usually thinks about. Every time they're sent out on a job, the members of these crime families think about the ways in which the job could kill them. Even when they're not working, they're thinking about all the ways they might die and what their family would be left with.

They expect to be kidnapped and killed, beaten to death, shot and stabbed by a member of a rival family.

Never murdered on neutral grounds.

He was in the safe zone. You're not supposed to die in the safe zone. He wasn't even doing any work, living on his father's yacht in a spell of twenty-four year old rebellion.

His sister had been in contact with him will be at been on the yacht in Monaco. When she one day stopped getting messages back from him, she knew that something was wrong.

His dead body was only discovered because of her. Because she ran to Charles, who wasn't that much older than her, and begged him to help her search through the yacht.

Charles had been the one to find the body. He'd held her back, stopping her from running in and seeing the bloodied mess on the bed. He was barely recognisable, the only indicator of who he was being the Dupont family ring on his finger.

They couldn't call the police, not or something like this. Charles had her return home to France while he and his brother recovered the body. That was the harsh reality of their lives.

The funeral was held at the Dupont family manor. The heads of family gathered around as the casket was lowered.

It was a rare moment of peace between then. The silence as his casket was covered with dirt. From the edge of the property, she was there, crying and screaming until her lungs ached.

They weren't meant to be there. The funeral was for the heads of families and a few right hand men. But Charles and Lorenzo, his older brother, stood with her as she sobbed. If the heads of families head, they didn't give any indication.

When the heads of families went into the house to conduct their meeting, the three of them crept closer. Her cried had quietened as they pressed themselves against the bricks, ducking beneath the window of the meeting room.

"This is no coincidence!" Bellowed Dupont as he looked at the rest of the heads. His right hand man, Leclerc, stood beside him, noting all of the reactions around the room.

"How dare you throw these accusations at us!" Webber shouted back. "How dare you insinuate that one of us violated the rules of the safe zone to murder your son!"

"The suggestion that my son was murdered by somebody who doesn't want to send a message to me and my family is preposterous!"

And suddenly they were all shouting over each other, making it impossible for the three below the windows to listen in. Lorenzo pressed his fingers to his lips as he stoop up slightly and peered into the window.

The calmest one was Hamilton. He was the youngest, didn't yet have any people behind him. But he was growing, and at a rapid rate. He stood and placed his hand flat on the table, silencing everybody around the room. "Dupont, what happened to your son is a tragedy, one that will not soon be forgotten. It was a crime committed by a sick individual. But it wasn't a member of any family. The way they killed him, that isn't how we do things. Our men are taught to kill quietly, efficiently. To leave no mess."

There was nothing but mess in the way that he was killed.

He was right. Every head of family knew he was right. Even if it was a tough pill for Dupont to swallow.

"But," Hamilton continued, "I am open for my operations to be investigated. As is everyone in this room." He looked from side to side. "Unless there is something anybody wants to share."

Silence fell across the room.

Suddenly, Dupont's right hand man stepped forward. "The proposal from here is to review the laws we have around the safe zone. It has always been free of weapons, but we will tighten security, have multiple check points set up."

Dupont looked towards Leclerc and then addressed the rest of the room. "Leclerc grew up in Monaco. It is where he is raising his family. To me, it makes the most sense that he heads up this operation."

The rest of the heads of family agreed. The conversation continued calmly, with the rest of the meeting headed up by Hamilton. From his place between Rosberg and Webber, Verstappen stayed quiet. But that wasn't unusual for a man this cold and calculating.

Just two days after the funeral, Dupont moved his wife and daughter to Monaco. The Dupont Manor was emptied, used only for business. Nobody knew that Dupont had moved his family, nobody but the Leclercs.

As soon as he turned eighteen, Charles Leclerc was welcomed into the Dupont family. He was insanely proud to be working alongside his father and brother, even if his job was a little different.

Where Hervé was Dupont's right hand man, effectively running the family with him, and Lorenzo did 'enforcement' for the family, Charles had a different job. Charles was assigned to guard her. She was fifteen, turning sixteen, and full of teenaged... feelings. She wasn't rebellious, not after what happened to her brother.

But she wanted to go out, wanted to make friends and have fun. Charles could let her do that. He couldn't let her put herself in danger like that.

When Charles was nineteen, about to turn twenty, he lost his father. He had been at her place, listening to her ramble about getting a job. Because, maybe if she she had a dog, Charles would let her go and have fun.

She told Charles what dog she wanted. A sweet doberman or a scary rottweiler with a silly name. One she could walk with a spiked collar and a black leather leash.

"That way, you don't have to keep being my guard dog," she had said as she sat on the sofa, her feet on his lap.

Charles had rolled his eyes at her. "You say that like I don't like guarding you, Lapinette."

He'd gotten the call after that, interrupting their conversation. The phone had fallen out of Charles's hands, but he didn’t react much beyond that.

He'd been prepared for this, just like every child who grew up in a family (well, everyone but her, but Bunny). But it was still a shock, still stung.

"Cha," she said as she sat up. "What's the matter?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Nothing, Bunny." His eyes stung but he held back the tears. "Uh, I'm gonna send Arthur to come here. Lock the door after me and don't let anybody in until he knocks."

Fear suddenly filled her. But Charles brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead. "I promise, everything is fine."

She always did what Charles said. They had pretty much become roommates, him living in her apartment, the one her dad bought for her the moment she turned eighteen.

But being eighteen brought out her first moment of rebellion.

The first time she snuck out, Charles caught her. The second time she snuck out, Charles caught her.

But, with each time that he caught her, she got better. She got better and better. She got so good that Charles had to chase her down the street when he found the apartment empty.

She got good enough to not get caught. She learnt Charles's patterns well enough to sneak out like an expect. Well, if you could be an expert at something like that.

At twenty-four, she decided that her favourite place to go when she snuck out. The café that served all the different teas and the fruity smoothies. They had the seats outside with the plush seat cushions and wide umbrellas that protected her from the sun.

That was where Max first saw her. It was rare that he got to use the Verstappen apartment inside of the safe zone. But, the last job his father had sent him on had turned into a bloodbath.

His week long visit was to try and cool him off. Verstappen wasn't one to care about death, but if Max continued the way he was going, it was going to destroy Verstappens operation.

He thought he had seen an angel.

There she sat, wearing that white sundress with the little blue flowers. She sipped her fruity drink as she looked across the street. Not at him, not where he sat in his car. No, she looked to the right of him, at the view of the tree in front of the harbour. He could see her as her pencil moved against her notebook, no doubt drawing the scene.

Max watched her until the person driving behind him beeped their horn. He quickly drove away, but he wouldn't be forgetting the angel any time soon.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minseok-smaus @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfa-qurrota-ainy @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethyskill-blog @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @not-nyasa

Series taglist (OPEN): @doofensmirtzevil-inc

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msdoodlesposts · 3 months

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Part 1

(Slight blood and language)

Mrs. Rich!Player x DogDay!Rich

September 12 1992

Three years before the hour of joy.

“Richie?” You muttered lightly still between the realms of being awake and sleep, though you were starting to wake up more when you moved your hand and didn’t feel the warm body of your husband Rich, You blinked your eyes a few times to get the sleep out before turning over and turn the lamp on,

Rich came out of the bathroom at the same time, dressed in his work blues and you couldn’t help but make a face.

“Your supposed to be off today”

“I know Angel” Rich spoke as he came over making sure his shirt look presentable “I got a call, a surprise load came in and the night crew needs a manager”

You crossed your arms lightly “can’t they get someone else to watch over them?” You asked, You been waiting a whole year to celebrate your first wedding anniversary and may have bother Rich a bit to always make sure he had that day off.

“It will only be for a few hours, when you wake up, I’ll be here with breakfast and those donuts from Randy’s you like so much” Rich spoke smiling softly, leaning down giving you a gentle kiss on the lips then on the forehead before turning off the lamp next to you.

“You get some sleep angle and I’ll see you soon”

***

Present day.

13 years after Richard was killed, 10 years after everyone went missing.

“How the fuck were these things even approved!” You couldn’t help but yell annoyed as you shot another flare when a small unicorn and chicken plushy started craving you way. Like what was cute about blank eyes and big grinning smiles that would be like nightmare fuel!

You sigh and gently rubbed your eyes to try and get them from being blurry having not slept in about what a day if you could remember correctly.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you heard more of those tiny animal squeaks as they came closer again. You could understand why Ollie found this place terrifying but to you it was starting to get annoying with all of the critters. You saw the wires you been fallowing lead to a button and you hope that

It would open it a door thus leading to a exist.

Ok so you were half right it did lead you somewhere, when you went down the stairs beyond the door and into a indoor swimming pool(they seriously had one?) You fallowed another pair of doors into something that definitely didn’t look like a child’s place, your eyes gazed over the cell block area, a frown appearing on your lips as you remembered this was where Catnap-Theo was kept.

You took in a deep breath and slowly walked in, looking around as you went and frown as the inside of the cells, your nose twitching, smelling blood.

You walked by a door and almost jump out of your skin when you heard a voice spoke, a familiar voice.

“You…Your Poppy’s Angel”

You glance that way, eyes widening slowly as they looked over what appeared to be half of a Dogday costume, but knowing this place it was anything but that.

Your nose twitch a bit at the smell of blood coming from what was left of the Dog’s lower half.

“Come to save us” The costume wheeze a bit “nothing left to save, not here…”

You frown upon hearing that and step a bit closer, eyes trailing over the mix of belts holding the character up.

“Your in catnap’s home,Angel”

And there it was again, the nagging feeling in the back of your head, it been years since someone had called your Angel, the last one to do so was Rich…

You slowly felt your face stiffen and eyes slowly widening in horror a bit.

You could be wrong you really wish you were wrong but from the evidence you seen here and the videos you saw everything was singing a different tune.

You didn’t have a open casket for Rich’s funeral nore did you ever saw his body, you were only told that it was best for you to not see it, to remember Rich the way he was.

Your mind wander franticly trying to remember the last few days before Rich’s death.

You remember being excited about your anniversary, double checking with Rich to make sure he gotten the day off even though he had assured you a millions time that he had.

You made dinner reservations for that day and you had went over to the calendar to write it down so neither of you could forget.

You remember seeing in red pen ‘PlayCare interview’ written the day before Rich’s death.

Oh sweet god.

You made a noise and step back away from the cell before bending over and promptly lost your lunch.

You tried to take in a few deep breaths only to end up coughing a bit.

“Listen to me,you need to get out-“

“Say that again”

His head move a bit, blank eyes covered by ears, now looking annoyingly (you pretty sure he was annoyed cause you were having a bit of a crisis during his speech). “You need to leave” he spoke again, emphasize on the word leave.

You took in a deep breath and rubbed your temples “Trust me I’ve been trying since the moment I got here, I…I need you to say Angel again” you spoke, a bit embarrassed upon the request, but you did have to make sure.

You heard him wheeze again, you were sure it was a chuckle,he looked at you annoyed(this time you were sure).

“Angel”

You recognize that tone, the same tone Rich would you when you stared to get on his annoyed side.

“Rich?”

Dogday’s eyes widen (as much as they could since their eyes were already big )

And saw a peice of fabric start to move bring him, wagging like a tail.

“Angel?” He ask softly.

You took in a deep breath.

“Fuck”

(Hope you enjoy part 1, it might be a two or three parter)

#poppy playtime #fanfiction #video games #dogday #poppy playtime au #au #fanfic #player #player poppy playtime #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime deep sleep #poppy playtime chapter 3 #rich poppy playtime #reader x poppy playtime #rich x reader #Dogday x reader

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effetsecndaires · 10 months

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— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | takashi mitsuya, manjiro sano (bonten tl), chifuyu matsuno, shuji hanma, tetta kisaki, haruchiyo sanzu.

CONTENT WARNING | sanzu's contains nsfw, mention of eating disorders. fem!reader.

NOTE | all characters are in their 20s, english isn't my first language! (divider by cafekitsune)

— MITSUYA.

Mitsuya has a hard time getting over your death. He's constantly haunted by the feeling that he somehow failed to protect you, even though your death had nothing to do with him and everyone around him always insists on the fact that there's nothing he could have done to prevent it.

His grief gets so bad that taking care of himself becomes the last thing on his mind. He neglects his appearance and barely eats anymore, he simply can't find the motivation to carry on with his life as if nothing happened. The only thing he looks forward to every day is going back to sleep.

His dreams have become a sanctuary, a safe place where death doesn't exist and the two of you can finally reunite.

— MIKEY.

Mikey keeps a stoic expression the entire time he's being told the news. He's biting his tongue, trying not to let his emotions show.

He feels his heart break into a thousand pieces as fear, anger, and grief all overtake him at once. He wants to scream, to lash out, to hit something. But he doesn't say a single word. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

He then nods curtly before exiting the room and heading to a quiet place where he can gather his thoughts. The world around him feels distant, everything turning into white noise as he struggles to come to terms with what he's just been told.

Mikey hadn't been in touch with you for nearly a decade and he's unsure if he's even supposed to mourn you as intensely as he does, not knowing if you still remembered or even cared about him after all those years.

All he knows is that he did still care about you, and your death feels like a cruel joke life played on him, a punishment that cuts him to the core for all the crimes he's committed.

— CHIFUYU.

Chifuyu completely isolates himself from the world. The moment he hears about your death, he breaks down and cries inconsolably for a solid hour, completely shattered by the loss of yet another friend.

He blames himself for not having done enough to save you, and your death brings back the same overwhelming emotions he experienced when he lost Baji.

With a heavy heart, he visits your grave every day and places a single flower on top of your gravestone, silently expressing his love and respect for you. He takes a moment to collect himself then heads to Baji's resting place where he repeats the same ritual and prays that the pain of losing his best friends will eventually get better.

— HANMA.

Hanma acts like he doesn't care. He'll put on a tough façade, tell everyone he never even cared about you and laugh in their faces when they try to offer condolences. He goes so far as to get defensive when anyone dares to suggest that he had any emotional attachment to you.

You were nothing but a careless brat who threw herself head first into the lion's den despite having been warned of the risks beforehand. Why would he feel any sort of empathy? Why would he care?

But this façade crumbles down as soon as he's alone in the funeral home, staring down at your open casket.

He slowly takes a step closer, looking at your lifeless body, the memory of you lying on the ground, blood pouring out of your wounds flashing through his mind.

He reaches out a shaky hand to cup your face but retracts it right away when he feels the coldness of your skin, a single tear escaping from his eye.

He doesn't let it show, but he spends the rest of his life missing you.

— KISAKI.

Kisaki doesn't react. At least, not from the outside. He keeps his head down and continues flipping through his papers, as if the words he just heard held little to no importance to him.

He might even hum dismissively and wave off whoever brought him the news, not bothering to say anything else.

But anyone who knows him knows that Kisaki is seething with anger beneath the surface.

He doesn't allow himself to dwell on it for too long, though; instead, he channels all those hidden emotions into plotting the perfect revenge. He meticulously devises a plan to make everyone involved with your murder pay, calculating each step to ensure maximum damage.

Regardless of how long it takes, whether it be months or even years, Kisaki will make sure that your death doesn't go unpunished.

— SANZU.

Sanzu tries to forget by sleeping with other women. He wants to move on, and he wants to do it fast.

But he'll be damned if forgetting you was an easy task.

He might try to convince himself that it's not intentional, but he often finds himself gravitating towards women who resemble you in some way. Whether it's the color of their skin or similarities in hair color or style, he can't deny that he still longs for you and looks for you in every woman he picks.

He'll take them from behind and pretend they're you, the palm of his hand softly sliding up their back as if you were suddenly the one moaning for more underneath him. He'll probably moan out your name at some point, not giving a damn about getting a negative reaction from the nameless girl he's using.

#fem reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #mikey x reader #chifuyu x fem!reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #mitsuya x reader #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #kisaki x reader #tetta kisaki x reader #kisaki x you #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x you

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nonamenonamenon · 1 month

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It's a rainy day in the human world when Solomon attends your funeral. You're surrounded by the brothers, the angels, and the friends you made during your time in the Devildom.

It's a bit cliché, he thinks. How time seems to stop. How the skies seem to weep at your death, too. It feels as though all three realms mourn at the loss of such a special lifeー your life.

Though, who wouldn't?

You're surrounded by people you've saved. The people you cherish, and those that cherish you back. Those who've come to experience the kindness you lent to demons, angels, humans, reapers, and other creatures alike. The amount of people saddened, and standing at your casket right now is only proof of that fact.

Solomon can't bring himself to cry.

It's something that he should be used to by now. It's something that he's a little too used to, given his long life.

It's not as if he expected himself to wail and sob at your death. He loved you. He loved you so much. He'd be willing to risk everything for you. Willing to sacrifice it all for you.

It's why the lack of any real feeling at learning of your death hurts him so much.

When you had died, his first thought was to tell his dearest apprentice the news. The realization sets in, and he laughs, thinking about how idiotic he is. Oh, Solomon. You've lost the only person you were ever truly comfortable with.

He doesn't feel... sad. Or angry. Or anything, really. He feels empty. Like a part of his soul had been taken from him, and crushed beneath someone's heel.

The sorcerer merely accepts it. It's not as if he can bring you back to life now, can he? Even Thirteen couldn't do anything.

He feels powerless. He laughs a little to himself. The strongest sorcerer in all three realms, and he's utterly powerless to stop you from leaving him again.

He's got so many regrets. He didn't think he spent enough time with you. Didn't think he told you he loved you enough. He didn't cherish the times he had with you enough.

Still, he doesn't feel anything well up in his eyes. He doesn't feel the lump in his throat when he speaks. He's composed, cordial with the other guests at your funeral, even daring to greet them with a smile. The others, who didn't know him so well, sent him dirty, disgusted looks.

He ignores, and ignores, until the funeral comes to an end, and time continues to move again. Everyone will soon move on with their life, forgetting about you. And it breaks him to think about how he'll have to keep moving forward, regardless, too.

Solomon doesn't use teleportation when he walks home. He thinks he'll take his time today. He... wants to take things a little slow, today.

Walking home, he remembers your little lectures on human superstitions. Both of you had taken an interest in them back then, so it naturally came up in a conversation while walking home.

He remembers you mentioning one that comes from the Philippines, a superstition called Pagpag. You told him, jokingly, that if you'd ever died, to go somewhere else before stopping home, or else you'd haunt him for life.

He thinks it wouldn't be such a bad idea. His pace speeds up a bit. Solomon wanted to take it slow, but... he wants to rest at home for a bit.

His brisk walking pace evolves into somewhat of a light jog. He remembers he left some important papers at home that he needed to review for a new spell.

His light jog turns into a full blown sprint home. What was he hoping for, exactly? That you'd appear there as an apparition, welcoming him back home, like normal?

What a joke.

It's just some dumb superstition. It's not real. You won't be back.

He arrives at the door of your shared home. He's scared. Scared to open the door and have it fully set in that you're gone. Scared, that your lack of presence there will turn your shared home into just a mere house.

He fiddles with the key in his hand, and inserts it into the doorknob. He twists, and he hears a click.

He opens the door. The lights are shut. The movies you were supposed to watch and games you were supposed to play together are still stacked messily on the table. Your dirty clothes are still strewn about the apartment.

He doesn't... know how to feel. He enters, closing the door behind him, and sits on the couch in your living room.

If he waits any longer, will the lights start blinking?

Will the tap suddenly start running?

Will the room get colder, as he feels chills run down his spine?

Will something break, so suddenly, that it frightens him a little?

He wishes for something, anything, to happen. Just so he can feel your presence in your home again. Just so it doesn't feel like you're truly gone.

But nothing ever arrives.

The floorboards don't creak. The lights don't start flickering. The door doesn't move, suddenly. Nothing. Nothing happens.

After an hour of waiting, Solomon... breaks.

He breaks.

Tears well up in his eyes, and he feels that unfamiliar lump in his throat. It's as if a dam had fractured, and had been continuously breaking throughout the day.

And everything had started spilling out.

He cries. Solomon cries. He feels his tears drip down his face, drop after drop. It's not something he's used to. He's not used to feeling so strongly about a death like yours.

You passed of natural causes. Just like everybody else. Just like his family. Just like most of his friends.

How come... how come he's crying so hard at your death, then?

It's something he should be used to by now. It's something that he's used to.

However, when he feels the lack of warmth, the lack of life, the lack of you in your shared home...

Solomon realizes that he'll never get used to not having you with him.

#obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon om #solomon obey me

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scribbledghost · 4 months

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Strike A Match

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Wife!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: T

Word count: 1,041

Warnings: Major character death, angst, no happy ending, Third Person POV

Note: I wanted some angst, so have some angst. Very rarely do I write something without a happy ending, but this seems to be the exception to the rule this time. :V

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Ghost was a special forces soldier. She was a civilian. He should have left this world far sooner than her.

The universe had things backwards. Nothing made sense. Not anymore.

He’d gotten the call almost as soon as the task force had touched down back on base. All four of them were weary, beaten, bruised, and barely keeping their eyelids open. But any sense of fatigue had left him as soon as one of the higher-ups rushed their way to him.

He doesn't remember the exact words now, only bits and pieces. Flashbulb memories of a day he’d do anything to forget.

Your wife.

Car accident.

Hospital.

He’d been belligerent when he’d arrived at the emergency room. That much, he remembered. He’d stormed his way through the bays, looking desperately to find her.

Part of him now wishes he hadn’t.

It had taken five nurses to hold him back while another three attempted to restart her heart. He’s sure he screamed obscenities at the staff keeping him from her as he yanked and pulled against them all. He fought, he kicked, he pulled, and he now thinks it was a minor miracle that no one did anything more drastic to get him out of the building.

Perhaps it was because he had still been decked out in his full combat kit. It must have been frightening enough to try and subdue a man as large as he was, let alone one that was loaded to the teeth with weapons.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. Just the lengthy, ear-splitting screech of the monotone heart monitor attached to her body, coupled with him shoving medical staff out of the way to take over doing some form of CPR.

He doesn’t remember how long it took for him to stop.

To give up.

To collapse next to the gurney.

But he does remember that it was Price that got him there, with a soft hand on his shoulder and a quiet “that’s enough, son”. When his captain and the rest of the task force had gotten to the hospital, he didn’t know.

Had they seen him struggling with the nurses? Had they overheard him screaming at the woman on the table, begging her not to leave him?

If they had, they never mentioned it.

In fact, they didn’t speak much at all. Simple questions, a couple of quick “I’m sorry”s, but not much else.

Just as well. He didn’t feel like talking anyway, and even if he did, he was too far disassociated to string together anything coherent. He vaguely remembers funeral arrangements being made, vaguely remembers staying at Price’s place and having Soap deliver clothes and other necessities for him from the home he’d once shared with her. Ghost couldn’t bring himself to go on his own - the memories alone threatened to suffocate him. He wasn’t sure he could handle the physical evidence of her absence.

It’s backwards, he thinks now as he stands next to an open grave.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

As he stares at her casket, he thinks back to when he’d watched from the shadows as a crowd had gathered to pay their respects to his mother.

And Tommy.

And Beth.

And little Joseph.

This time, he’s front and center. Right next to where her body lay.

His stomach turns.

He may as well be there with her, he realizes.

Only a small shred of Simon Riley had remained after the deaths of his family; one she’d managed to cradle in her hands and grow until it felt like a part of him again. A part of him other than Ghost.

That part of him is gone now. Simon Riley died with her in that emergency room. He had died as soon as Ghost had stopped the chest compressions and fallen to his knees.

Only Ghost remains now.

He knows those close to him can see it; he’s rarely been alone for too long since she left him. He goes through the motions - eats when Price puts food in front of him, showers when ordered to, sleeps when his body collapses in exhaustion. He doesn’t know if he’s spoken much more than one-word sentences since the incident, nor does he care. Even now, as people line up to offer condolences, he only nods in response.

He thinks that if he hears the phrase “I’m sorry for your loss” one more time, he’s going to kill someone.

As he stares at the casket lid separating him from her, he sees his future clearly - there is no other path left for him. He will throw himself into the task force, volunteering for whatever borderline-suicidal missions the brass hands down. He will do this again, and again, and again, as many times as he needs to, until finally the universe takes pity on him.

He will become the prized fighting dog he knows he can be, and he will cause as much destruction as he needs to until someone finally puts him down.

He has lost her in this life. He’s ready to move on to the next one, ready to begin the search for her again.

He doesn’t realize that the rest of the funeral-goers have left until he blinks and realizes it’s now too dark for him to see the grave in front of him. He doesn’t feel anything, though he’s sure his voice cracks under the weight of his words when he apologizes to the open air.

Part of him wants to scream, to bellow out into the night about how wrong all of this is. But he doesn’t. Ghosts don’t tend to scream in ways others can hear.

Instead, he stalks away to his car, gets in, and drives slowly out of the graveyard.

Ghost isn’t fully in control of his movements, but he can’t bring himself to care. He isn’t quite sure why, but he gets a can of gasoline and travels down a road he’s intimately familiar with.

An indeterminate amount of time later after emptying the can, he stands in a yard, staring at a building he can’t bring himself to go inside of anymore.

And he strikes a match.

#is this barely-comprehensible? Maybe #do i care? no #have simon going insane with grief #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

the butterfly effect: you die because of their actions

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summary: The butterfly effect "the idea that small things can have non-linear impacts on a complex system. The concept is imagined with a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a typhoon." Everyone never believed the saying, that was until you died at the hands of your love.

pairing: 141 x fem!Reader

warnings: SWEARING, character death (previously established relationship)

a/n: my first angst piece for the rest of the 141!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price

Price's mind raced as he shoved the doors open to the post-operation recovery wing. If he had known you would end up on the end of a gun, he would have never put you in this position. He never would have introduced you to General Shepherd.

When you met John, still known as a Lieutenant at the time, you were a First Lieutenant in the US Marine Corps. You were an expert at planning travel and assault routes and the SAS used your skills to their advantage. You worked together in a joint-op in Canada, one that required you both to find refuge in a snowed-out cabin. No one was surprised when you both emerged as a couple. Now after 13 years of dating and a happy marriage, you lived a comfortable life together. You had two daughters, both away in college, and lived close to Price's home in England. You made sacrifices, dividing your time in the English countryside with an apartment in DC.

Price was away on a mission as you sat in your countryside home. Last you heard, he was in Amsterdam with Sergeant Garrick. He was unreachable but you knew there was a fair share of times when you had the same status. Laswell had informed you that something had gone on with his unit and after reassuring you John was safe, she encouraged you to stay low in your home. You informed your daughters and they would soon be escorted to your house. Laswell had arranged a security detail for you and you sat at your living room table with a concealed firearm for protection.

As you tried to drink some tea, a series of knocks were heard from the door. You recognized it and holstered your gun as you answered. You opened the door to reveal General Shepherd, an old friend that John had introduced you to at a military ball. "General Shepherd, what a pleasant surprise," you said as you ushered him in, "can I get you anything?" "Just some water if you don't mind, Captain," he said and followed you into the kitchen. As you turned your back to him, he made polite conversation. "Captain, you didn't tell John about the op in the Middle East, right?" he asked and you remembered providing input on a cargo route earlier last year. "Of course not, General," you answered as you finished pouring the glass." "Then no harsh feelings, Captain," was the last thing you heard before you fell against the counter, a bullet lodged in the back of your head.

Back to the present time, Price shoved past the queue and slammed his fists on the receptionist's table. Laswell informed him that he was needed at the hospital immediately as you were in critical condition. He had taken the first flight home from Chicago and was now helplessly begging to see you. "Where is my wife?" he roared as the nurse sheepishly asked him for the name of the patient. "Captain Y/N Price," he said and she quickly typed it in for him. "She's not here, sir," she said quietly as he shook with rage, "she's in the morgue."

Your funeral came with all the proper traditions for a Captain. As the decorated Marines played Taps and folded a US flag, Price held onto your daughters' hands tightly. As a soldier presented him with the flag and your dog tags, he broke down in tears as your daughters joined. The last Price saw of you was your casket being lowered into the Arlington dirt.

As Price prepared to finally kill General Shepherd, he clutched your dog tags and wedding ring close to his neck. He pulled out a picture of you and your wedding day and kissed it before heading to finally end the bastard.

soap

After months of waiting the day was finally here. You and Johnny were expecting your first child after trying for so long. As you rested in a recliner, he had decorated the nursery with all the preparations for a newborn. You decided on a space theme for their room and Johnny would call the baby "our little astronaut." For the last month before you were due, Price let Johnny head home to be with you as he had known this is when you needed him most. When your water broke that morning, Johnny quickly rushed you to the hospital. The baby was two weeks early and you could feel the painful contractions as you entered the delivery room. You were in agonizing pain as the doctors delivered an epidural. Johnny could only watch helplessly as you were in labor for 10 hours.

He held your hand tightly as you screamed. "I see a head!" the doctor exclaimed and the nurses encouraged you to continue pushing. Even with the epidural, you felt dizzy and your eyes watered from the torment of childbirth. The room smelled of iron and blood as it pooled around your body. The doctor's hands were coated in the red liquid as you continued to push. "Almost there, love," Johnny reassured you as his hands turned white from your grip. "She's coming out beautifully, Mrs. Mactavish," the doctor reassured. "You hear that, it's a girl," Johnny exclaimed, "she's going to have my charm and your looks." You gave him a weak smile as the doctor updated him on how far out the baby was.

Finally, as the child exited into the doctor's arms, you released Johnny's hand. You slumped back into the bed as a nurse tended to your sweating face with a washcloth. The doctor delicately wiped the baby and swaddled her in a fresh blanket. "You can cut the umbilical cord, Dad," another nurse said as your baby girl cried. "Hi little one" he whispered as he cut the umbilical cord. He held her small hands with his and went to give her to you. But as soon as he turned, he saw your face was ghostly white. The monitor loudly beeped as the nurses and doctor began to panic. "She's losing a lot of blood," the doctor said as the room was thrown into chaos. Your vitals were beginning to drop and a nurse screamed for a crash cart. The delivery unit's PA system informed other attending nurses of a Code Blue and a variety of new staff rushed into the room. "Sir, you need to leave," a nurse demanded as he saw someone perform chest compressions. "She's not breathing," someone else yelled and Johnny tried to fight his way to the front. Everything was happening in slow motion as he held the baby close and saw you convulse under the shocks of a defibrillator.

"What's happening to her?" he demanded before he was shoved into the hallway. The nurses quickly closed the curtains as Johnny pounded on the glass. His hand grew numb as he fell defeated with your daughter in his arms. After 5 minutes, the doctor emerged. "You better tell me right fucking now what's going on," Johnny screamed at her. "I'm sorry sir, she's gone," she said and he could barely hear her say that you flatlined after a tremendous loss of blood. When she finished, he broke down and let the entire hospital hear his cries and screams.

As he cradled your daughter's head, the baby wailed and Soap joined his heartbroken song. A new life in exchange for one lost.

gaz

"Kyle, I don't know about this," you said as you boarded the plane. "C'mon love, teenage recruits do this," he encouraged as you both strapped in. Kyle had heard about a skydiving experience and convinced you to go. He used the fact that it was his birthday and you swallowed your doubts about flying. As the plane ascended, you gripped his hand tightly. You always had a fear of flying and even had a psychic tell you that flying would be involved with your death. Kyle comfortingly drew circles on your hands as you approached the descent level.

“Alright, flyers! It’s almost time!” you heard the pilot announce through the cabin. Kyle helped you unbuckle and guided you to the tandem diver. He introduced you both and the tandem diver promised a safe descent. “This is my 1000th flight, doll, you’ll be fine,” he reassured and helped to strap you in. You smiled nervously as Kyle similarly strapped into his flyer. He insisted you take a picture together as you shakily gave a thumbs up.

“Here we go!” Kyle’s tandem flyer shouted and they leapt out of the airplane. You tried not to look down as you swallowed your fear. You then felt your legs leave the plane as you and your flyer jumped into the sky. As you felt the rush of air on your face, you kept your eyes shut closed. “Look at me baby!” you heard Kyle shout and you peeked through your fluttering eyelids to see him smiling widely and holding his arms out. You tried to emulate his actions but as you looked up at your flyer, you could see him panic.

Something was wrong as Gaz also saw that your parachute had not yet deployed. He saw the tandem diver struggle to deploy the reserve but that too seemed to fail. He screamed at you as you both flew closer and closer to the ground. You looked up at him in fear and tried to reach out before gravity and the lack of a chute pulled you forcefully to the Earth's surface.

Gaz could only watch helplessly as you and your guide plummeted to the ground. He let out a flood of tears and screams but they too fell and followed along with your deadly descent.

ghost

Ghost watched in horror as two people sat next to one another on a platform. From what he could see, one of the people was a clear head taller than the other and they squirmed in their bindings. Their heads were covered in burlap and they both were sporting matching jackets that hit their figure. "Make the choice, Simon," Makarov said as his voice crackled through the comms, "your wife or best friend." Ghost's eyes dilated in horror as he realized Makarov's implications. "Before you try to be the hero, just know that I'm watching you," he taunted and Ghost knew there was no way out.

His mind flooded with any possible solution but he could not find any. This was supposed to be an easy fucking recon mission that only he and Johnny had to handle. Now he was without allies, without options, and an alternative plan. He shakily put his hand on the sniper's trigger as he fluctuated between looking at you and Soap. Beads of sweat pooled at his neck as he tried to think of any way to get you both out of this alive.

"Time is ticking, Simon," Makarov spoke again, "If you don't choose, they'll both die." That moment, two fluorescent dots appeared on your heads and he knew that somewhere two snipers were ready to take you both out if he didn't decide. Ghost's mind was clouded, he wondered if there was any way to save both of you but came up empty. The deadline and the thrashing of the two figures under their restraints made him finally decide. He made the most difficult decision of his life, he would save you instead of Soap. He couldn't live without you.

He said a silent prayer for his friend as he lined his sights. "Just stay still, Johnny," he painfully whispered as you both fought against your bindings. He knew a bullet straight through the heart would result in a quick and painless death. He held his breath as the gun fired, making a direct target with the body. It fell back in with a sickening thump and Ghost dropped the gun before rushing towards you.

Makarov was always one step ahead of the team. Ghost ran to the scene to see that the chair's size had deceived his eyes. One of the people who Ghost had assumed was taller than the other, was sitting on an elevated crate. The other figure thrashed about but Ghost was more focused on the one in front of him. As he went to pull the bag over what he believed was Soap's body, he was horrified to discover it was you, a single gunshot through the heart. A bullet he had sent into you. You died choking on your blood because of his actions.

As Ghost clutched your body in agony, his tears and screams echoed in the empty lot. In his haste, he had killed you and was now alone again in the world.

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yanderederee · 2 months

Text

I’mHere

cw: yan!themes/mentions of murder/attempted murder/angst/little comfort at end (lowkey yan!reader? oops)

a/n: I’ve had an idea to write this for a long long time now, and only now felt the motivation to do so. Sorry I can’t help having a savior complex~

—-*depicts PreManila!Mikey

Part1 … Part2 … Part3 … Part4 … Now~

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

How long had it been since Mikey went missing, now? How many years had it been since he broke your heart, with that dark and empty look? Your Manjiro… what happened to make him look at you with those dead eyes?

All these years later, you still hadn’t found the answers to any of these questions. Even when you tried to escape the mystery of his leaving, the guilt of not knowing ate away at you. Sure, Mikey had his own issues he had to work out. He was severely messed up over the continuous misfortunes that littered his life. But you always hoped he would keep you by his side to help him find the peace he deserved.

After his disappearance, Toman did their best to look after you. Having been one of Mikey’s support systems, they respected all the effort you put into coddling him. Draken especially. Over the years, they would maintain contact with you, but never had any information to comfort your plagued conscience.

Recently, however…. Obituaries of your once friends were popping up left and right.

Murdered.

Your head spun when Draken’s funeral invitation sat in your shaking hands. Draken? Of all people, he was the strongest person you knew. Dead? Just like Mitsuya, Hakkai, Sanzu—everyone. Was there anyone left to cry to? Takemichi briefly occupied your thoughts, he was still alive, right? But he’d been out of contact for so long, would he even recognize you?

All the death and disappointment of the rotting world had taken its own toll on your mental state. All these years, it was still hard to find stable work. All your money was spend to surviving, your head just barely above water. No matter how hard you tried doing better, nothing ever got better. Not since Mikey left.

The night of Draken’s closed casket funeral came to pass, and all that remained was your sobbing self, having just made it back to your quiet home. Everything became more real all over again. Every single time you attended your old friend’s funerals, something inside you felt like it died all over again.

It wasn’t worth dragging yourself to bed. Wasn’t worth changing out of the same black dress you’ve worn so many times now. You may as well be buried in it. You were surely to be next; right? No one knew who the murderer was, but given the grudge on Toman, you had to be somewhere on the list; right?

You didn’t even care, at this point. Let them come. There wasn’t anything left to keep you connected to this damned existence anyway. Not since that day. Not without your Manjiro.

In the middle of the night, your sleep was once again interrupted with another nightmare. This was normal.

What wasn’t normal was this weird ominous feeling. Like something was watching you. Maybe it was because your window blinds were wide open. Maybe it was because of your bad habit to leaving your front door unlocked. Regardless, that fear quickly dissipated.

You had no tears left to cry, and felt numb to the events that plagued your thoughts at every waking hour. If something bad were to happen, perhaps you would welcome it.

“How pitiful…” you croaked out a humorless laugh. That was right. You didn’t care if something happened to you. Not anymore.

“You’re awake…” spoke a familiar voice. Despite your previous claim of fearing nothing, you broke out into a cold sweat at the sudden sound. There was someone in your apartment. Staring at you. It was instinctual to look around for who.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Having heard him the second time much closer now, your head snapped to the side, about ten feet away was a man. He was shorter, with long black hair and dark dress attire. The room was dark, so even while he was hard to make out, your eyes zoned in directly to the intruder’s eyes.

Your own eyes welled with tears. You knew that empty gaze anywhere. It was him, finally.

“Manjiro…” you whispered affectionately. There was no mistaking him. Weak in the knees, you still attempted to meet him in standing. What do you even say? Should you be mad, he broke in, right? You should be angry about the way he left you—everyone, without reason. Yet the only thing you felt was gratitude.

“I missed you.” You admitted. There was nothing left for you to lose, not even pride.

Mikey’s expression flinched, but only for a moment. He was always weak to your crying. His lips gaped for a second, but slipped back into a thin line. He held back words you so desperately wanted to hear.

“Never kicked that bad habit of yours, I see.”

He was talking about your unlocked door.

“You were never good at picking locks, how else would you get in?”

“Were you expecting me?”

“Hoping more than expecting.”

“You should value your life more, you know.”

“So I am next, aren’t I?”

He was once again at a loss of words. You were right, but he expected you to at least scream at him for leaving the way he did, wail about why he would commit the atrocity of murdering everyone he cared about, beg him to spare you. Anything.

Mikey stepped closer, til you were within reach. He drew out to touch your cheek, expecting you to recoil and dodge. Yet when his cold skin met with your tear stained cheeks, you all but nuzzled into his hand.

“Were you lonely?” You asked, even though you knew the answer. He had lost himself to that same loneliness a long time ago.

“I’m sorry,” you gently laid a hand over the back of his own, warming him with what little heat you had. “I should have ran after you that day. I shouldn’t have let you go so easily. I’m sorry.” You apologized again, a mournful expression taking over as your tears fell in doubles.

“I didn’t give you a choice.” He answered, slowly bringing up his other hand to lightly caress the soft skin on your neck. With one hand, he tightened his grip around your neck. “You never had a choice.”

While it became more difficult to breathe, it wasn’t impossible. He definitely had the strength to do so physically. Yet you two stood in longing eye contact.

“I’ve been as good as dead for a long time now,” you offered him a weak smile, once again leaning into his hand. “My life has been yours, ever since we first met. Do with it as you will.”

“I’m just so happy I finally get to see you again…” you desperately wished to throw your arms around him, breathe in his scent and give him all the warmth you had to offer. But the grasp on your neck kept you in place.

“Why…” Manjiro couldn’t understand. “Why don’t you feel any resentment towards me? I was the one who ruined everything back then. Even to this day, I’ve killed so many friends. Even if you hold no value for your own life, you cared about them, right? Or did they mean nothing to you?” His grip tightened, causing you to choke.

Dare you explain yourself? He was about to give you the closure you craved, either way.

“Revenge was always your thing, not mine. I’ve no use for it. Not when the only thing that now matters to me is already right in front of me…”

Mikey narrowed his gaze. “You really should value your life more.” He graveled with another squeeze, cutting off your air flow.

You didn’t struggle. “My life… is yours…” you repeated, smiling past the tears running down your face.

It made his stomach twist. Was it disgust? No, guilt. After everything, you were just equally as broken. Lonely, with no one to turn to. Just like him.

He imagined you, back in middle school. With all your passion and laughter. He remembered your embrace, the tears you shed were always on his behalf. Your selfless acts of service.

His hand around your throat squeezed even tighter, bruising the soft skin underneath, before ultimately letting you go completely.

“Mine… you say…” Manjiro sighed, hanging his head. He couldn’t do it. He thought he’d killed all the emotions he had. Thought he could leave it all behind and wipe the slate clean. But he couldn’t. Not when his heart still yearned for something. You— always you. Only you, now…

“Yours,” you affirmed hoarsely, cradling his head against your shoulder tenderly. Your beating heart sped up, so eager to have him close.

Despite all his sins, you were elated to still have him. Your Manjiro.

Again at a loss of words, Mikey sighed, allowing himself to be held. He fell slack against your arms, and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. “I still have you…” he affirmed himself, like hope still existed.

You nodded, and eased him in further. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly, combing your fingers up the nape of his neck and gently scratching his scalp. Your other hand smoothed over his back up and down.

He was real. In your arms at last.

“I’m here.”

And he believed it. He didn’t care if you were lying or manipulating him. Having been ready to end it all himself, with nothing else to live for, and neither did you.

Just two lonely souls seeking each other. This was enough. Even if he couldn’t end it tonight, he could in the future. Even if he had nothing else left to keep him attached to this rotting world, he still craved your embrace. If only for that one thing, he wanted to be alive.

To hold you; and to be held by you.

Even if nothing else mattered, you were there. And that was enough, if only for tonight.

And so, Mikey closed his eyes, and finally found the peace he’d long been searching for. If only for tonight, he slept in comfort and content. And when he woke, you would still be there, your life forfeit, and his to claim.

Life had meaning again.

Even if that meaning was just each other.

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spacecowboyhotch · 10 months

Text

The Bee & the Bear, Chapter 1: And Then There Were Four

summary: Mikey’s death brings the gang back together again.

pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader (Bee)

contents: 18+/NSFW/heavy content, mention of suicide/mental illness, grief, longing, pining, angst, friends to strangersish to lovers

wc: 2.1k

an: this is my first time writing for the Bear so i beg of you to go easy on me.

series masterlist

The sky is gray and cloudy and birds are singing softly, perched in dead trees. There’s snow on the ground, crunching beneath the weight of everyone’s shoes. Beneath the weight of everyone’s grief, so heavy it's palpable. It’s the coldest day of the year, fitting for the occasion. Because Mikey’s dead, taken from all of you with his own hand.

You’re sandwiched between Sugar and Richie, to keep them apart, to keep them together. Regardless of their history and their care for each other, it's always touch and go– a disaster waiting to happen. But with you here and in the flesh after so many years, they’re both trying to balance that fucked up mixture of happiness from seeing your face and the pure despair from losing Mikey.

“Thank you for comin’, sweetheart,” Richie squeezes your shoulders, his eyes soft and watery when you look up at him.

You lean more firmly into his side, “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You know who would.”

You know exactly who he’s talking about. Carmy isn’t here, and while anyone else would expect him to show up to his brother’s funeral it had not surprised you. Not with how the last several years have gone. Richie’s words make you sigh tiredly, and you give him a stern look. The last thing that Mikey’s funeral needs is more blaming. That didn’t start at Mikey’s funeral though, the Berzattos have pointed fingers at each other for as long as you can remember.

There are faces familiar and not around you, all of them turned to the ground, paying their last respects to Mikey. This hurts, it hurts deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. Since you’d gotten that phone call from Sugar something heavy and dark has sat in the pit of your stomach, taking root and finding its home there. Life has always been the 5 of you, even with you and Carmy strewn across the country. You and Mikey and Carmy and Sugar and Richie. A reality that you’d always known, that you found comfort in on days you felt a little too homesick. Your relationships with all of them heavily inspired your art, they had become your family.

As you watch Mikey’s casket be lowered into the ground you can’t help but feel like your lens on life has shifted. For the first time in a long time, you aren’t completely sure where anything goes.

—

“Are you hungry?” Sugar asks as the two of you shed your coats and head into her kitchen.

There was no repass, what with the restaurant currently closed. Everyone had agreed it didn’t feel right to eat anything but The Beef in Mikey’s honor. There had been one last huddle, shared goodbyes and I love yous, and many tears before everyone had dispersed. You’d promised Sugar that you’d help her sort through everything since Carmy never showed up.

“Starving.”

She sets the file box full of Mikey’s paperwork on the counter and takes a step towards the fridge, “I’ll make us something.”

You rest your hand over hers, shaking your head, “No, it’s good, Sugar. Sit, start sifting, I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” She asks skeptically– sure you know how to work your way around a kitchen-- its impossible not to with Mikey and Carmy-- before you’ve never been known for being a cook. You're the artist, the traditional creative of the bunch who has mess and color strewn all about.

“I’m sure, just let me help. It’s what I’m here for, yeah?”

Her eyes go a little soft and she nods, “Yeah, okay.”

She goes to sit at the breakfast bar, looking at the pile of documents that hold Mikey’s life. Heaps and heaps of paper that mean nothing to her. That do a terrible job of capturing who Mikey was and what his life meant to others.

You open the fridge, poking through the contents as if you’ve done this a million times. That’s just how things are with Sugar, they’re comfortable– always have been and always will be. She has the ingredients for their mom’s chicken piccata in her fridge and you quickly fetch them and the proper tools.

Sugar does her best to stay on task, but the sounds of someone else in the kitchen, and the smell of her mother’s food are distracting. She watches the flick of your wrist and the speed of your knife. You dice and sprinkle and stir in similar ways to her brothers. It’s impossible to notice.

“You look like them,” She says, her voice a little melancholic.

“Look like who?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at her in concern.

The smile on her face is wistful, “Like Mikey. Like Carmy. Carmy especially.”

Something in your chest cracks. You turn back to the pan in front of you, spooning sauce over the chicken one too many times, just to stay away from the tender look on her face. “They did teach me the basics.”

She’s silent for a moment, battling herself, wondering if she should ask this question. It’s a touchy subject, it always has been despite your closeness but she just had to know. “I sorta know the answer to this, but did you…did you try?”

“Don’t start with me, Nat.”

“I just want to know,” She assures you gently. “Did you really try?”

You reach for the jar of capers angrily, though this is less about the anger and more about the hurt. About the longing, this brings up. “He treated me just like everyone else. There was nothing for me to try.”

“You know Carmen’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“Not soft enough to follow through on his words,” You mumble sourly.

She goes quiet then because you’re right. Carmy had taken off for culinary school and seemingly never looked back, besides the infamous Christmas– the one you don’t even know about. All of his promises of staying in touch and showing each other new worlds fell flat.

You had tried. You offered to take him on a food crawl through Seattle where you were going to art school.

“Oh my fucking god,” She grits out, the shock in her voice sending you into fight or flight. The plate in your hand clatters to the counter without breaking, thankfully.

You turn to her, leaning across the counter, “What? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes continue to scan the page in front of her, over and over as if the letters will say something different. “Michael you fucking— he left Bear the restaurant.”

“He what?”

“Fucking Mikey,” She stands abruptly, scrubbing her face with her hands. “Ok, ok, um–uh–can you call Bear? I’m gonna call Richie.”

“Me? Call Carmy?”

Was the man that you’d fallen in love with when he was just a little boy really still out there? Sure, he was— living and breathing, walking and cooking and testing. But, all of that was mechanical. Was his smile still the same? His laugh? Did a heart still beat in that empty chest of his? Did his blue eyes still hold as much as Lake Michigan?

Sugar sees your panic, face softening with concern, “We both know he won’t answer, you’ll be fine.”

“But—“

“Please, Bee?”

The name that Sugar calls you knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s been a long, long time since anyone has called you that— since you left for college. Since the last time you’d seen Carmy. Would he still call you that? He’d started it after all. Named you Bee because you were obsessed with painting flowers, they covered your room, all of your canvas and anything else your parents deemed invaluable enough to lose to your hobby turned career.

“Hey, you okay?” She asks when you don’t respond after several seconds.

You blink a few times before refocusing on her. You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, “What? Yeah, just fine.”

Her brow furrows, and she steps closer reaching out to run her hand up and down your arm, “Are you sure?”

You give a smile that doesn’t touch your eyes and fish your phone out of your pocket, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll go call Carmy.”

Before Sugar can respond you make your way to the front door and let yourself out. You’re met with the frigid Chicago air, the wind whipping at your cheeks. With your coat inside, the cold chills you to the bone but the feeling is welcome. It shocks your nervous system in a way that makes it easier to call Carmy. Your head is clear, and most of your focus is now on warming your fingers as you dial his number and start to pace.

Sugar was right– he doesn’t answer. It rings and rings and rings until you hear his voice for the first time in years. It's the same message that he’d set years ago: Hey, it's Carmy. Let it rip at the beep.

Many beats of silence pass before you realize that it's time for you to speak.

“Oh fuck, sorry. H-Hi, Carmen. It’s…it’s me. Nat and I just went through Mikey’s will and well…he left it to you. The Beef I mean, it’s yours. Sugar really needs you to come home to figure this out.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if you should say anything about yourself. About your friendship that he’s let crumble. About your heart that he’s ground into dust with each day that goes by with no contact. No that won’t do.

“Just come home and help your fucking sister. Please, Carmy,” You plead softly before hanging up.

You aren’t sure if that was a good enough attempt, but you don’t want to risk calling back and having to face him. Despite your worry, it does the trick.

—

You and Sugar are tucked in Mikey’s office, combing through records of unpaid pills and disorganized expense reports when it happens.

“Cousin!” Richie yells with just enough disbelief in his voice for you to know.

You and Sugar look at each other with wide eyes, hands frozen and full of stacks of paper. You can hear them clambering through the restaurant, making their way to you and you wish that some freak accident that denies the laws of physics would swallow you up.

To your dismay, It doesn’t.

Carmy and Richie round the corner, and you’re a goner like you’ve been all these years. Soft blue eyes that give the crystal skies a run for their money and a messy mop of ashy hair. It doesn’t matter that a man waits for you at home or how many times you’ve told yourself that you’re over Carmy. It never sticks, you don’t know why you thought it would. You were hoping that he’d hurt you enough for it to fade.

Carmy stops in his tracks at the sight of you, throwing Richie a look that clearly says “you couldn’t have warned me”. You aren’t sure how to interpret it– was he excited to see you? Upset?

He stuffs his hands into his pockets nervously and leans against the door frame. “Hi. Hey,” He means to say it to you and Sugar, but his eyes don’t leave your face.

“Hey,” You squeak, cheeks heating in embarrassment. You clear your throat and try again. “Hi, Carmen.”

“Hey, Bear,” Sugar waves her hand playfully as if she’s trying to get his attention, and his eyes finally flit over to her.

He smiles, one that you know is genuine despite that lack of teeth. His eyes drop to the ground and he nods a few times before glancing to Natalie again. “So he left it to me,” He says lamely.

“Yeah, Carmy, he left it to you,” Sugar repeats his words, frustrated not only with Carmy for his late arrival or for his lack of appearance at his own brother’s funeral but for this entire situation.

None of them should be here trying to figure this out. Mikey should be in this kitchen with Richie, she should be at home thinking about what she and Pete for dinner. And though this finally brought you and Carmy home, she wishes that things were the way they were just a few short weeks ago. She wants Mikey alive.

“Guess that means I should open it.”

Richie gives out a shout before clapping Carmy on the shoulder, “See now I like the sound of that, cousin.”

Carmy flinches under Richie’s touch, hoping no one will notice. It's not something he wants to talk about or even think about. He can feel your eyes on him and quickly makes up an excuse to put some space between the two of you. “I’m gonna go check out the stock in the fridge. It— uh, good to see you, Bee.”

You nod awkwardly, though those simple words make your heart race, “You too, Carmy.”

Richie doesn’t follow after him, stepping into the office and crossing his arms. The three of you sit there in a silence that screams he has something to say.

“Just say it, Richie. Fuck’s sake,” Sugar finally says, rubbing her temples.

Your brow furrows as your head whips from side to side to look between them. “Say what?”

“You know he’ll notice, right?” Richie asks you, leaning back against the desk.

“Notice what?”

Richie looks at Sugar expectantly, and she sighs, rubbing at her temples again. She fixes you with a look that is as sympathetic as it is accusatory, “That you don’t call him Bear anymore.”

| > chapter 2: Back in the Beef

let me know if you’d like to be on the carmy taglist!

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto angst #the bear fanfiction #not sfw #arson writes the bear #the bee and the bear

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blingblong55 · 3 months

Text

Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----

"GHOST!"

It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.

It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades.

Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family.

Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon.

Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?

Oh...

Oh by all luck, he's dead.

"Mum?"

"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears.

All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all.

"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers.

His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven.

He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit.

"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both?

He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them.

This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven.

"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles.

Soap?...Johnny?

"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back.

"Great to see you, mate."

"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon.

"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again.

"Price and Gaz joining?"

"Not yet, give them a few good years."

"Daddy, let's go play outside!"

This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife.

From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke.

It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven.

One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs.

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit

Tags:

@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed

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pearlsinmyhair · 10 months

Text

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: angst. lots of hurt, very little comfort. miguel is a hardass who pushes people away. death.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic.

the intention is for this to be multi-part. how many parts? idk.

word count: 1.3k

pt i : fate

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　

being a spider person was always unfair. mercy from whatever divine being that controlled their universes was hard to come by.

you were no exception.

your father died early, shot by a man who ran with someone’s purse. you didn’t know him well, you were only three after all. but your mother fought hard to teach you about him, to make sure you remembered some semblance of him.

and all was well for a time. you went to school, made some friends, started working for some extra cash under the table.

you were reaching up into your attic when the sharp sting of a spider bite zinged up from your hand. you killed it with a slap, but nothing could stop the venom that now traveled through your veins.

the rest was history: you became your universes one and only spider woman, learning her trade as she went.

the cannon event hit later, and it was different from the others.

you had no uncle to find dead on the street.

but you did have a mother.

she was working the late shift at the hospital when a spouse of a dead patient burst through the doors and demanded to see a doctor. apparently, the man wanted revenge for the hospitals failure to save his wife, and he had come to instill justice.

your mother had raised her hands and tried to plead for him to stop, to calm down, to lower his gun.

the shot made your spider-senses go haywire, and you practically flew to the trauma center. the security guards had no idea what to do, so you just ran past them to find your mother bleeding on the cold white tile.

it took everything in you to remember that behind your mask, no one knew you were this woman’s daughter, and you’d have to respond carefully. you watched as the officers called the next of kin, and you were thankful that you had had the mind to put your phone on silent that day.

no one noticed the tears streaming from your eyes behind the suit. you swung back home as fast as you could, answering your phone when they called you again.

pretending to not know what was going on was the second worst thing you had to do that day. you had to fight from chocking on tears as you answered the call.

eighteen and orphaned, standing over your mothers open casket. a part of you thanked that you were older, because it meant that you didn’t have to go into foster care. but nothing could truly quell your grief.

and then the universe decided to send you a big middle finger in the shape of a Doc Oc right after the funeral ended.

you knew that you couldn’t keep going like this. no one should process grief this fast. but as the villain sent a tidal wave through the streets of new york city you relized that you didn’t exactly have a choice.

with great power comes great responsibility.

and saving these people was your responsibility, no matter what mental state you were in.

this Doc Oc looked to be from some other dimension. instead of mechanical tentacles like that of your Doc Oc, he had real ones, and he apparently threw actual octopi at people when he was pissed off.

it was no easy task, and at one point he had thrown you against the wall and knocked your head. as your vision swam, he picked you up with one of his suctioned limbs and squeezed.

it all happened so fast.

a flash of orange and yellow swirling at the edge of your vision. orange silk shooting into your captors face. and then someone shot forward and sliced the tentacle that held you.

you sank to the ground as you caught your breath, vaguely hearing someone say “Lyla, run a diagnostic. what’s the best way to take this guy down?”

as you wheezed, a large hand rested against your shoulder, and a soft voice greeted your ears.

“Sit tight, kid. I’ll handle this.”

you didn’t have time to argue when the hand vanished, and you peered up just in time to see a large spider-man in a blue suit throwing himself at the villain.

you stood as you caught your breath, rushing right back into battle to help the man that had saved you. the Doc Oc dragged you both to the bay, sinking down into the water. it was advantageous for him, being a water dwelling creature, and you and the man struggled. it took another spider, a woman on a motor cycle, showing up to help defeat him.

but it was you who dealt the final blow, wrapping the villains limbs to a nearby pier to keep him underwater. when the pair of new spider people got him all tied up and prepared to take away, you just…collapsed.

everything came down on you at once. your exhaustion, your sadness, your loneliness. everything.

you barely heard the spider woman murmur to the brash man across from her, and it was only when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you and pick you up that you snapped back to reality.

but just as quickly as you zeroed in on the feeling, your brain whispered sleep in your ear, and you passed out.

₊ ⊹

you woke to a strange bare bedroom and an odd watch that flickered with light on your wrist. noticing the glass of water on the bedside table, you chugged it, coughing when you got too eager.

“You’re awake!”

you screamed, a small voice coming from right beside your head unexpectedly. you turned to see a small woman illuminated in the light from your watch.

“no need to be afraid. i’m lyla.”

lyla. that rang a bell.

“where am i?” you asked as you noticed the clothes folded in the corner of the room. you cast a sideways glance at the projection, and lyla turned to give you the illusion of privacy.

“miguel will answer all your questions. i’ve alerted him of your new condition.”

you slipped on the black sweatpants and top gratefully, relishing the feeling of soft cotton against your skin. as your hands moved over your body, you quickly noticed various cuts and bruises.

that’s right, i passed out.

“where is this miguel?” you asked as you studied the watch, noticing the flickering ‘EARTH-928’ across the screen.

almost immediately, little glowing footsteps were projected from the watch, making you whip your hand away from your face.

“i guess that’s my answer?” you asked lyla, and the woman nodded.

you sighed, figuring you might as well follow them.

fantastic survival skills from the one and only spider-woman.

well, you thought, not the one and only.

₊ ⊹

the man before you seemed almost nothing like he was when you were fighting Doc Oc.

he seemed…infinitely tired. his shoulders hunched, head ducked down. you supposed that you were distracted during the fight.

but his expression revealed much more than his body language. he had deep eye bags, and his cheeks were sunken in a way that expressed not just natural bone structure but also a lack of eating and sleeping properly.

miguel looked drained.

you were still processing what he had told you, about the cannon and the ‘Spider-Society’ and the ‘Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse.’

you had actually openly scoffed at that one, and he looked dejected by your reaction.

“but i can’t just send you home now. i’m pretty sure jess would actually web me for all eternity if i did.” he was saying, rubbing his brow.

“so what exactly am i doing here, then?” you asked, curious but hesitant.

he turned his back to you, looking forlornly at his screens.

“i’m going to train you.”

“why?” came your response, surprised and uncertain. you may have only known miguel for less than an hour, but you could already tell that taking on a young apprentice wasn’t exactly in his character.

he didn’t turn to you. he just kept looking at a picture of a young girl on one of his screens.

“because you remind me of someone.” he said quietly. then he looked at you, and you were struck with the amount of guilt and suffering that lived in his eyes.

“and because you remind me of myself. and i can’t let you become like me.”

masterlists | part ii

#oh lord save me with these father daughter dynamics #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #platonic!miguel ohara x reader #dad!miguel #daughter!reader

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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 1

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Major Character death, asshole parents, Jake is a jerk to start.

Word Count: 6.0k

Masterlist

“I’m sorry, Admiral Blair. Commander Kazansky is dead.”

Commander Kazansky is dead.

Tears welled my eyes as I stood in the doorway, my father behind me. “What?” My dad stepped around me, pushing me back into the house. I walked into the living room, seeing my mother sitting in her chair, glasses on her nose and book in her hand. “Who in god’s name is at our door at nine o’clock at night?” She asked, not looking at up. “A-an officer-“ She huffed, slamming her book shut before she ripped her glasses off her face and looked at me. “Speak up. I can’t hear you when you mumble and stutter.” I nodded, taking a deep breath and trying again. “An officer is at the door. Admiral Kazansky is dead.” I said as I rested my hand on the back of the couch. She stared at me for a moment before scoffing and putting her glasses back on. “Held on long enough, didn’t he?” “Mother!” I scolded. She huffed, slamming her book on the side table, standing. “Hush!” I immediately went quiet as she approached me. “He has been sick for years now. Your father has been waiting in the wings for his moment! And this is his moment!” She yelled, pointing her finger in my face.

“And you will not ruin his image!” I nodded, not meeting her eyes as tears streaked my cheeks. “Admiral Kazansky passed in his sleep earlier.” My father said as he walked into the living room. “And you’re crying for him!” Mom said, smacking my arm, making me jump. “He was a good man, mama!” She rolled her eyes, going back to her chair. “A man you met only three times.” I bit my lip, taking in a shaky breath. “I will be going up to my room.” I said turning, only for my dad to stop me. “Dr. Nieman says you have an exam next week; I expect you to be studying.” I nodded as he squeezed my shoulder. “Yes sir.” I said before he let me go, walking past me and allowing me to go upstairs. Once in my room I shut the door, taking a deep breath before going over to my fish tank, pulling out some food to feed them. They rushed to the top as I dropped the food, making me giggle. “Greedy little guys, huh?” I asked, knowing they wouldn’t reply. “Georgie!” I scolded the guppy who pushed Simon out of the way. “Oh my god, I’m scolding my fish.” I sighed before sitting down at my desk, deciding I better crack open the law textbook before my father came in and yelled at me for not working hard enough.

A few days went by and finally it was the day of Iceman’s funeral. I rode with my parents to the funeral, sitting in the backseat quietly as we rode from the funeral home to the gravesite. Once we pulled up and got out, I looked around at the sea of black dress uniforms, straightening out my own black dress as I stepped out of the truck. “Now,” My mom said as she walked over. “Stand still and be quiet, I don’t want to hear and squalling from you.” I nodded as she took my dad’s arm. “Yes ma’am.” I fell in step behind them, walking slowly through the grass and between the graves before finally stopping. My parents would sit, while I stood behind them, my heels sinking into the soft ground. We watched as the casket was carried over, and the funeral started. I was fine until TAPS started; it always made me emotional at these things. But I stood there, stock still but I felt the tears coming, and with them, the fear of my mother.

I inhaled deeply and shakily, fighting off the tears when suddenly my mother reached back, pinching my thigh. I jerked, which made her snap around and glare at me. It wasn’t until Captain Mitchell slammed his wings into the casket that the sobs started. I tried to hold back; my shoulders shook slightly as I held my breath. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, making me want to crawl out of my skin. Why are you crying? You’re not family. You hardly knew the man. The voice resembling my own echoed throughout my head. I attempted to stop, but I couldn’t. The voice was right though, I had no reason to be crying. Once it was done, my mother quickly stood, taking my arm and dragging me back towards the truck. “I told you to stay quiet.” “I tried, momma. Really.” “Well, you didn’t try hard enough!” My back slammed into the truck, on the side facing away from people. “Your father has an image to keep. We can’t have an uncontrollably emotional child messing that up.” I nodded, knowing she was right. “Now, you are going to clean your face, because you have black streaks from your mascara, and then you will redo it on the way to the Kazansky’s. Sarah is doing a celebration of life and we will be in attendance.” She said as she shoved a makeup wipe at me. “Yes, ma’am.” She huffed, straightening her dress. “Now get in the truck. You look like a train wreck, and we can’t have anyone seeing you.” I nodded, getting into the backseat as my mother went to join my dad as he spoke to some people.

~~~

“Woah, who is that?” Coyote asked, looking past me. I turned, spotting who he was referring to. A girl walked in with Admiral Blair and his wife; she must be their daughter I’ve heard about. She had a small smile on her face and kept her eyes on the ground, her hair swishing in the short ponytail as she walked a few steps behind her parents. “She’s sexy.” I raised my brow at Payback, he wasn’t usually one to refer to women in such a way. “I wouldn’t even try it with her.” Coop, a pilot from my old squadron said. “What? Is she snobby?” Payback asked as I continued to watch the girl. “No, man. She’s weird as fuck. She holds eye contact too much; she stares into your soul. She also talks a lot about random things, her stories have side stories, and those stories have side stories! She’s a total weirdo.” I looked back to her; she now had a glass in her hand as her parents spoke with Sarah.

“Hey, Hangman?” I turned to Coyote who was looking at me confused. “You gonna try it with her? I don’t think your girl would like that.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “No,” I scoffed. “Kelly wouldn’t appreciate it. But she’s also not my type.” Coop chuckled. “She’s crazy emotional too. Like a loose cannon.” I looked over at him, sipping the lemonade Sarah gave me. “How do you know all this?” I asked him and he scoffed. “Made the mistake of asking her on a date.” “And was there a second one?” Payback asked and Coop shook his head. “Hell no! We paid, got in our cars and I never texted her again.” I rolled my eyes. Coop has an unrealistic idea of women. He wants a model, someone ‘perfect’. Little does he realize he isn’t such a catch either. “I bet you fifty bucks you couldn’t have a normal conversation with her.” I scoffed at his offer. “What? Fifty not enough? I’ll make it a hundred then and you can see how weird she is yourself.” I shook my head. “You know what, I’ll accept that bet.” I said looking back over to her seeing she had made her way over to the drink table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.” I said before walking over to her, a smirk on my face.

~~~

“Hi.” I jumped, startled out of my own little bubble by the voice behind me. I turned to find a blonde man, tall, muscular, with green eyes that glistened in the light and had tiny flecks of light brown around the pupil. “H-hi.” I said, realizing how close he was when I turned around. I took a step back, bumping the table and tripping over my feet. I swung my arm, and he caught it, straightening me out. “I am so sorry! I’m so clumsy!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all.” I smiled, looking back into his eyes. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, I never got your name.” A look of realization crossed his face, and he held out his hand. “Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, ma’am.” I shook his hand. “You seemed off in your own little world over here.” He caught you, and now he thinks you’re weird before he even properly met you. “Yeah, I um… truth be told, I just got lost in thought.” I admitted. My mind had wandered to how Sarah and the rest of the family would cope without Admiral Kazansky, a thought I probably had no business thinking. “Happens to the best of us, right?” I nodded, looking down at my heels. “So how do you know the Kazansky’s?” He asked, bending down to meet my eyes, making my head snap up. “Oh, my dad is-was just under Admiral Kazansky. Now that he’s gone that makes my dad the new fleet commander.” His eyebrows shot up in realization. “Katie Scarlett!” I froze at my mom’s voice, straightening my back and diverting my eyes from Jacob. ��I’m so sorry Lieutenant. Was she bothering you? She tends to run her mouth and talk. Why, she would talk till your ears fell off if you let her.” My neck burned red against my black scoop neck dress, tears gathering in my eyes.

“No ma’am. We were just having a pleasant conversation.” She looked at me, and I took a deep breath, willing the tears away. “Are you okay?” He asked and before I could even react my mother answered for me. “She’s fine. She just tends to be… overly emotional. If you’ll excuse us.” Mom said before gripping my arm and leading me away. “What are you doing?” I jerked my arm away once we were inside and out of sight. “I was having a nice conversation with a nice man!” She reached out, pinching me before placing her hands on her hips. “First off, don’t you ever cop an attitude with me again missy. Second, he is your father’s subordinate! What do you think it will look like if you’re flirting with him?” I furrowed my brows, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god, I was not flirting, mom! It was a normal conversation.” She scoffed. “Don’t talk back to me. Now, you will not speak to your father’s subordinates. These navy boys are not worth your time, or mine when you get your heart broken.” I rolled my eyes. “Dad seemed to be worth your time.” I popped off. Suddenly I heard a loud slap and my cheek stung. “He was worth my time, and you should be grateful because that’s why you are here.”

“Now,” She said as she composed herself and straightened her dress. “Clean yourself up, quit your crying and join me outside in five minutes.” She said as she pushed past me, making her way back outside. I turned, rushing into the bathroom as tears streaked my face once again. I cleaned myself up as best I could and let my hair down hoping it would hide the growing red mark on my cheek. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face before going back outside. My father was standing with Lieutenant Seresin and a few others. I made my way over as my mom turned to greet me, a smile on her face. But in reality, that smile was a threat, saying if I screwed this up it wouldn’t be good. She looped her arm through mine as I stood next to her. “Oh, and this is our daughter, Katherine Scarlett Blair.” All eyes were on me, so I opted for a small smile. Something simple that couldn’t be mistaken for anything more than what it was. My father continued to ramble as I looked through the group. Immediately catching the blue eyes of Arnold Cooper, he smirked and waved as I turned my head away. I couldn’t stand him. He was so rude on our date, letting me go on then only to tell me how stupid the topic was and then went on to critique everything about me.

Your eyes are too far apart.

Your bottom lip is too big, it makes your smile look weird.

You’re too tall in those heels.

Your thighs are too big.

Anything he could find wrong, he pointed out. I left there crying and he never called or texted me again, which I was grateful for. I looked away, staring out at the ocean, ignoring the conversation. I wonder if I could just get a boat and take off. Quit law school, leave my parents behind and just go. Travel somewhere they would never think to find me. Like Nepal maybe? More specifically Kathmandu. It’s beautiful and I could do lots of hiking and exploring. “Katherine.” I turned, looking up at my mother who had a harsh look on her face. “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” I asked, turning back to the group. Lieutenant Seresin nodded. “Admiral Blair says you’re in Law school. Which one?” Of course, daddy would mention law school. “USD school of Law.” He smiled at me. “And how long do you have left before you graduate?” I opened my mouth to answer when my father cut me off. “She about to finish her first year. She’s on her way to being the best lawyer in California.” My parents didn’t have that much hope for me. They just wanted me to make good money. “Nice, how do you like it?” Another Lieutenant asked, he had a mustache that most people couldn’t pull off. “She loves it. It’s been her dream since she was a little girl.” My mom said as she ran her fingers through my ponytail.

“Is there a certain type of law you want to practice?” Lieutenant Seresin asked. Once again, I was answered for. “Either medical law or corporate law. She just can’t decide.” I nodded, just going along with it. Everyone looked between my parents and me, questioning look in their eyes. “Well I just wanted to wish you guys the best of luck on this mission of yours. I’ve read over the file and I have to say, it’s very dangerous, but you’re the best of the best for a reason.” They all smiled, shaking my dad’s hand before him and my mother walked away. I turned to follow but stopped at the sound of Coop’s voice. “Following mommy and daddy around like a lost puppy?” I kept walking, trying to ignore him. “Can’t even function on her own.” I turned around, glaring at him. “You’re the one that insulted me on that so called date, so why are you even bothering to talk to me? You’re the one that ran around telling everyone how weird I am anyway.” He chuckled, “Just wanted to get a rise out of you sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes, walking away. “Whiny bitch.” My fists clenched at my sides, and it took everything in me to keep walking, but I didn’t have to go far as my mother met me halfway. “What was that?” I furrowed my brows at her. “He just wanted a rise out of me.” I admitted and she huffed. “Get your emotions in check. Because if you ruin our image, there will be hell to pay.”

A few days later I was on base, heading to my father’s office. I apparently couldn’t be trusted home alone so I would sit in the rec room on base to study while I waited for my father to finish his work. “Hi, daddy.” He smiled at me as I walked into his office. “Hi, sweetie.” Good mood. Safe. I walked over kissing his cheek. “How did your exam go?” I bit my lip, nervous. “I feel like I did good on it. I only had to go back to a handful of questions.” He turned to me; an eyebrow raised. “Well good.” I exhaled lightly in relief, escaping his wrath for now. “Well, you know where the rec room is. I’ll come get you when I’m done.” I nodded, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder and making my way to the rec room, dress swishing around my thighs. I kept my head down, knowing I would attract attention. It’s always better if I don’t meet their gazes. I made it to the rec room and thankfully, it was empty. I sighed, setting my stuff down and pulling out my laptop and textbooks. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I got to work, studying.

My phone kept buzzing and I tried to ignore it, but finally I picked it up, looking at the notification before scrolling through my Instagram feed. “Oh ho, look who we have here gentlemen.” I slammed my phone down at the voice, a reaction I’ve picked up from living with my parents. I looked up, seeing Coop walk in with a few other pilots behind him. I didn’t recognize any of them except Lieutenant Seresin, who brought up the back of the line. “And what are you studying, Kate?” I withheld my eyeroll at the nickname and ignored him, going back to jotting down notes from my textbook. “Oh, come on, honey. Don’t ignore me.” I saw him stand up out of my peripheral vision, but I never expected him to snatch my glasses right off my face. “Hey!” I yelled, standing so fast I knocked over my chair. “Arnold!” I yelled his first name, hoping it would catch his attention. “Oh, come on honey! You can’t reach even in those heels!” He teased, making me even more angry. "We're grown adults! Give me back my glasses!" I yelled, jumping to reach my glasses and praying I wasn't flashing the other pilots behind me as my dress shifted around my thighs. "You're cute when you're mad sweetheart." I whipped around to Lieutenant Seresin, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. "Sorry that I enjoy seeing and I can't do that without my fucking glasses!" I turned around, landing a punch to Coop's gut. "Give them back!" I yelled, snatching them as he hit the ground. "Katy Scarlett!" Fear filled me at the sound of my father's voice yelling my full name.

I froze, dropping my glasses as I saw his figure standing in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked as Coop stood, holding his gut. “I-um-I-he-“ “Stop fucking stuttering and get your stuff and go home.” He commanded. I nodded as I grabbed my glasses, slipping them back on my face before rushing to gather my things. “NOW!” I was shaking so bad, I put what I could in my bag before gathering everything else in my arms, rushing out as tears slipped down my face. As I walked away, I could hear my father apologizing to everyone for my behavior. I made it outside, getting into my Lexus in hopes I could pull out before he met me outside, but no such luck. He came outside just as I shut my door. I rolled down my window, keeping my head down as he leaned into my car. “You go home, and you wait for me. We’re going to have a serious talk.” I nodded, mumbling a ‘yes sir’ before he stepped away. I rolled up my window, taking the long way home as I cried.

Once home my mother was waiting, I assume my dad called her. I took my stuff upstairs and sat in the dining room, waiting for my dad to get home. Once he did, he was yelling before he even came through the door. “What the hell were you thinking?! Acting that way in front of my men!” I flinched as the door slammed into the wall, hearing his feet stomp through the house. I opened my mouth to answer as he walked through the door, but stopped as he held his hand up. “I don’t fucking care! You assaulted a naval officer!” “YOU DID WHAT?!” I flinched again as my mother screamed in my ear. “He took my glasses.” I mumbled and my mother groaned. “Enough of this mumbling shit! Just speak up!” “He took my glasses! He snatched them right off my face!” I said loudly. “Well, if you would wear your contacts, that wouldn’t have happened!” I crossed my arms over my chest in frustration. “They give me a headache.” “Then take an aspirin!” I stood, turning to her. “I should be able to wear my glasses without someone taking them, and I shouldn’t have to wear contacts if they make my head hurt!” My father quickly stepped closer. My knees buckling out of fear and planting me back in the dining room chair as he bent down in my face.

“I don’t care what he did. Tomorrow, after class, you will come onto base, and you will give him a sincere apology.” My jaw dropped. “So, he gets to take my glasses, preventing me from studying and I have to apologize to him?” He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will, and you will do it with a smile.” I sighed. “God! Just stop the huffing and puffing! You did this to yourself! Now go upstairs and study. If you fail another test, you don’t get to come back here and cry about it. You’ll have nowhere to go.” My mother threatened, making a shiver run up my spine, knowing she was serious. I just nodded, standing and looking to my father. “Dismissed.” I bit my lip, rushing upstairs. I shut my bedroom door, tears streaming down my cheeks. I covered my mouth as I slid down the door, silencing my sobs. Why can’t I just control my emotions? I should’ve just let him keep my glasses and stayed in my chair. I took a shaky breath, wiping my cheeks clean. I stood, kicking off my heels and walking over to my fish tank. “Hey guys.” I watched as the colorful fish swam around, a few swimming up to my face as I rested my chin on the shelf the tank rested on. “You hungry?” I asked as I grabbed the container of fish food. They all rushed to the side of the tank I kept the food on, watching intensely as I sprinkled it into the tank. All five fish ate as if they were starving when in reality, I fed them this morning. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, knowing they were my fathers, I dove for my bag. Quickly pulling out my textbooks and rushing into my desk chair just as the door opened. “I don’t want to see you out of this room till dinner. You understand me?” I nodded as I opened my book. “Yes, sir.”

The next day I was dreading everything, including waking up. But I did, getting myself ready in an olive-green dress that was knee length with a ruffled hem and nude heels. I struggled to focus in class, not sure how I would manage to survive the ridiculous apology. I couldn’t focus, taking half-assed notes as I thought of how humiliating this was going to be. I barely managed to walk out of the building and get into my car. I could just drive off, maybe somewhere upstate, or even into Mexico. But they would just report my car stolen and I’d be right back here, more miserable than ever. I don’t remember the drive to base, or showing the guard my ID. But soon I found myself walking into my dad’s office, keeping my head down as I stood in front of his desk. “About time. You got out of class twenty minutes ago.” I pulled on my thumbs, wanting to snap that it takes me twenty-five minutes to get here from school, but I just kept my mouth shut. “Set your bag down.” I set my bag in the chair as he stood from his own. “Follow me.” I followed him out of his office and down the hall, keeping my head down as my heels clicked on the tile. He led us outside to the hangar, my heels announcing our arrival. I managed to lift my head, looking at the ginormous jet across the way. “Captain Mitchell.” I looked up to see an older man turn from his team to look at us. “Commander Blair.” Everyone jumped up, standing at attention and saluting him as we walked closer. “As you were.” Movement caught my eye, and I glanced behind everyone to see Lieutenant Seresin and the other man with the mustache walking closer.

“Lieutenant Cooper. Step forward.” I pulled on my thumbs again, my knees growing weak from nerves. Coop stepped closer, keeping a poker face as he did as my dad asked. “Katy, I think you have something to say to Lieutenant Cooper.” I felt everyone’s eyes on me from behind Coop and I looked up to my dad who just quirked a brow as if to say, ‘Get on with it.’ I took a step forward, averting my eyes from everyone behind him down to my feet. “Coop, I just wanted to say-“ “Eyes on me when you’re talking to me sweetheart.” My head snapped up, glaring at him. “Wasn’t there something you had to say to me?” He was trying to get a rise out of me again, and I wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was wrong of me to hit you.” I said through gritted teeth. Coop poked his bottom lip out, tilting his head at me. “I don’t think you mean it.” Tears of frustration gathered in my eyes as I fought back every emotion within me. I shook my head and took a big breath before I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “The way I acted yesterday was wrong, and I never should’ve punched you. I really hope you can forgive me.” He grinned at me, relishing this moment. “Of course, I forgive you, sweetheart.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Good, now that that is out of the way. You can go back to training, and you need to go study.” My father’s hand slammed down on my shoulder, making me jump as he did so. “Yes, sir.”

With that I went back to my dad’s office, grabbing my bag and going into the rec room to study just like I did the day before. I sat there, staring at my textbooks but not reading them. What I wouldn’t give to go back and punch Coop in his smug ugly face. God, why did I ever think he was attractive? Thinking back on it he’s really not, and he has an ugly personality to match. God, I hate him, and I can’t stand my father for making me do that. Should I have hit him? No. But did he deserve it? Hell yes. “Do you need help?” I looked up, caught off guard by the quiet voice. A blonde man with stunning blue eyes and glasses stood before me. “Oh. No, I don’t. Don’t trouble yourself with me.” I said as I turned my head back down to my books. “I’m pretty good at law. I started in the Law education program at the naval academy before changing majors.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he gave me a small smile. “What does Amicus Curiae mean?” I bit my lip, realizing I didn’t know the answer. “On the bench?” It was more of a question than an answer. “That’s En banc. It’s Latin for ‘friend of the court’.” I nodded slowly. “I’d be more than happy to help you study.” I stared at my textbook for a minute, going over my options. I could study on my own and risk failing, which means my parents would kick me out of the house. But if he helped me, maybe I can pass and live in the house another day.

“Okay. You can help me.” He smiled at me, slipping in the chair next to me. “Your name is Katy, right?” I nodded, realizing he was there when I had to give that stupid apology. “I’m Bob.” He held out his hand for me to shake, clasping my fingers around his, I realized just how big his hands are. I was worried I would struggle to study with Bob, but he made it so easy. He taught me a few ways to remember phrases, and it’s like a whole new world opened up in front of me. “Hey! Baby on Board! What are you doing?” Our heads snapped up at the sound of Coop's voice. He seemed angry, and Lieutenant Seresin behind him didn’t look happy either. I watched as his eyes shifted from Bob to me and I immediately hung my head. “Don’t waste your time with her. Come on.” He waved him over and Bob looked to me before back to Coop. “I think I’m gonna stay here and help her study.” My head snapped up to him in surprise and he flashed me a small smile. “She’s not fucking worth it. Now, come on.” Bob opened his mouth to retort, but Lieutenant Seresin cut him off. “Don’t fucking argue, Floyd.” I closed my text book, putting it in my back. “I’ll just leave.”

“I see you’ve finally got some brains. You can finally tell when people don’t want you around.” Coop snapped and I just stood with my bag, ignoring his words. “I have to say, I can’t stand to look at her face. But God do I love watching her walk away.” I heard their laughter behind me. I just kept my head down, hiding my tears as I made my way down the hallway. Once I was a ways down the hallway, I stopped, pulling my glasses off and wiping my eyes clean. “Hey, you okay?” I turned, seeing a woman and the guy with the mustache walking up. I turned to them, leaning against the wall as I took a deep breath. “O-oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The girl smiled at me. “We just wanted to say, Coop was completely in the wrong.” She said and the guy behind her smiled. “Yeah, and it definitely wasn’t okay that Commander Blair made you apologize to him.” I offered them a small smile. “Thanks.” The girl held out her hand for me to shake. “Natasha, callsign Phoenix.” I shook the guys hand next. “Bradley, callsign Rooster.” I smiled, feeling a little better. Their smiles were infectious.

“I’m-“ “Katy Scarlett!” My fathers voice boomed down the hallway, making me stand rigid as I turned to face him. “You’re supposed to be studying.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Yes, sir. It was just getting noisy in the rec room, so I was coming to ask if I could go home and study there? I’ll probably focus better.” He stared at me for a moment before looking to Natasha and Bradley. “Was she bothering you?” My shoulders tensed as he laid a hand on them, turning me around to face them. I kept my eyes trained on my heels, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Not at all. I noticed her shoes in the hangar earlier and stopped her to ask them what brand they were. Valentino? Right?” Natasha asked as she leaned down to catch my eyes. I stared into hers, seeing something flash in them and I knew she was trying to keep me out of trouble. “Yes. They’re very comfortable.” My dad nodded, looking down at me. “Very well. Go home. I’ll be late so make sure you’re studying before dinner.” I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I said before turning and making my way out to my car. Once I was inside, I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I owe Natasha big time.” I mumbled to myself as I cranked my car.

I studied until dad came home, rushing downstairs to make sure I had the table set before he sat down. Once I did that he sat down, and mom placed his plate in front of him before we made our plates. “How was work, dear?” My mom asked, looking over at my dad. “Good. I have to be on base early in the morning. The team that Iceman put together ships out for their mission in the morning.” I listened intensely as they discussed his work. “They keep talking about how ‘someone may not make it back’. Cyclone isn’t worried about it, but Maverick is.” My mom scoffed. “Ugh. Maverick? He’s still flying? I figured he would’ve been discharged from the Navy, or more likely, dead.” My dad chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll go down on this mission.” My heart lurched into my throat at his words. How can someone have such disregard for human life? “Katy.” My head snapped up to catch my mother’s eye. “God, listen to me the first time I say your name. You need to eat more peas.” I took a deep breath. “I’m twenty-five mother. I eat every vegetable but peas.” She grabbed the spoon that sat in the bowl of peas and lifted it, slamming a huge scoop of them down on my plate. “Just fucking listen and eat them. I don’t need any remarks from you every time I say something.” I just did as she said, no energy to fight with her about it.

The texture and taste was gross, but I just have to pick my battles with her. When we were done, my parents went out onto the back deck for drinks, and I cleaned up the kitchen. I used to complain about it, but as I got older, I realized this was the only time I could guarantee they wouldn’t barge in and they would leave me alone. Once I was finished, I went back upstairs and into my room. I have spent most all of the day studying, so I opted to read a book from my shelf. I plucked Salem’s Lot from my shelf, plopping down on my bed to read it. I got 5 pages in when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded in my chest, knowing they were my fathers, but they didn’t sound like angry footsteps. I sat up quickly when my door opened, my eyes widening behind my metal frames as my father stared at me. “What are you reading?” I gulped, looking down at the book in my hand. “Salem’s Lot?” It should’ve been a statement, but I was scared of the look in his eye. “You have another exam tomorrow.” I nodded, standing from my bed. “Yes, but I’ve been studying non-stop for the past week. I-I thought maybe reading something different for an hour would help me relax.” I was flipping the book from hand to hand, struggling to sit still in the tension filled room. “Just put it down and study. I’m tired of having to ride your ass about school. Just fucking study and pass your fucking tests before you force your mother and I to kick you out.” He huffed and I nodded. “Yes sir.” I put the book back before sitting down at my desk, turning on my laptop. With that he closed the door and I sighed, leaning back in my chair. While I waited for my computer to boot up, I stood, walking over to my fish tank to feed them. I watched as Splish and Splash, my twin goldfish shoved each other around trying to eat. “Guys. There’s plenty.” I dropped just a little more in the tank, giggling as the all rushed around. “Do you guys think I’d make a good lawyer?” I asked as Frankie, my angel fish turned to me, almost staring for a second before swimming off. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” I sighed before sitting back down in my desk chair.

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Taglist: @wkndwlff @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose

#hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin x oc #hangman fic #hangman seresin #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #hangman top gun #undiagnosed #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

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lokis-army-77 · 1 year

Text

Left behind

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1884

After a funeral, Eddie feels he's being left alone and says some hurtful things to the reader. After some time apart at home, he comes to apologize and is assured by the reader that she will never leave him.

Warning: Talk of death, at a funeral, angst, fluff, Eddie says some mean things.

A/N: I'm so sorry..

Masterlist

The wind whipped around us and the chill it brought stung like ice. My cheeks had already started to turn pink from the cold, my nose numb and as red as could be. A December afternoon in Indiana is a dreary thing, put a funeral on top of it and it's the physical manifestation of Depression.

I stood just behind Eddie, who was dressed in his only suit with his long hair pulled back in a bun out of his face. My own black dress clung to me in the wind, the bottom hem whipping around at my knees.

The pastor provided by the funeral home spoke in a bored and monotonous tone, by this point I had drowned him out. I was too concerned for Eddie right now to worry about being led to christ while we buried a loved one.

He was hiding it well. No emotion showing on his beautiful face. His eyes almost glazed over as he bored a hole into the casket.

It was a simple thing, the cheapest we could afford. Grey aluminum with the smallest casket spray on top. Those flowers weren't even the nicest and the wind was doing a number on the soft white petals.

Quietly, I placed my hand on Eddie's shoulder, letting him know I was there for him. I felt him stiffen before reluctantly pulling my hand away.

Looking around us, only a hand full of people were gathered. A few guys who worked at the plant and a waitress from the diner we visited almost every Saturday morning.

They all gave me sad smiles when they caught my eye. I gave them one back.

I hadn’t noticed the preacher had stopped talking until a hand was cupping my own. Turning around it was the waitress.

"Saturday mornings sure aren't gonna be the same without him." She squeezed my hand. "I've got a casserole with your name on it, just come on by the diner and I'll bring it out to you."

I shook my head. "No, no, Mrs. Janice, that's too much. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh Hun, you shouldn't have to worry about cooking or finding food when you're going through a loss." She pouted. "Come on by and I'll give it to you and if you need any more, just give me a call."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you." I gave her a tight smile and she left.

Next were the three plant workers who introduced themselves as, Randy, Carl, and Jimmy. They gave their condolences as they shook my hand before taking off.

The Pastor was last. "Mrs. Munson," he started. I only nodded not wanting to correct him on the fact that I wasn't married to Eddie yet, only engaged. "They are going to start lowering the casket. I don't know if you want to watch that but you can if you would like."

"Thank you, I think we might."

"Well then, I'll be on my way. I'm very sorry for your loss." He turned on his heel and followed the others through the cemetery to where all the vehicles had been parked.

I went back to Eddie, who hadn’t moved to talk to anyone.

"Eddie, sweetheart, why don't we go? Hum?" I linked my arm with his.

He didn't budge when I pulled on his arm so I stood there with him as he stared and I watched the men begin to lower the casket into the ground and shovel the mound of dirt back into the hole.

Once they were finished and gone we still stayed standing, looking at the grave with the casket spray decorating the dirt. It was getting colder by the minute since the sun was starting to set and Eddie still hadn't given any sign that he wasn't a statue.

"Eddie?" I question, going to stand in front of him, eyes searching his face. "Eddie please, I need you to say something, move, anything." I couldn’t hide the wobble of worry coming through in my voice.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then closed it again.

"Want me to give you a minute alone?" He nodded. "Okay. I'll be in the car when you're ready to go."

Slowly I let go of him and braced myself against the wind towards the car. Slipping into the passenger seat, I hurriedly turned the key and started the ignition, thankful for the heater.

Ten minutes later, Eddie opens the driver's side door. The rush of cold air taking away the warmth had me shivering once again.

He sat quietly for a few seconds before suddenly slamming his hand shown onto the steering wheel.

"Fuck!"

I jumped, startled at his outburst. That was the only sign of emotion he had shown since this morning.

"Fuck! fuck! fuck!" Each shout was emphasized by him hitting the wheel.

"Eds, be careful, don't want you hurting yourself."

I reached over pushing his hands down into his lap. His breathing had become rapid and his eyes were no longer glossed over. The haze cleared up and nothing but anger shone through.

"Why do I keep being left alone?"

I place my hand on his shoulder and rub my thumb into the tissue. "What do you mean, baby?"

"Everyone fucking leaves me all alone at some point or another. First, it was my old man, then mom died, and now Wayne." His words were warped with anger and frustration. "You'll probably leave me too. You might at well go now while I'm already in pain. Rip my heart out while it's already broken, it would be better than leading me on."

I shook my head at his words. "Eddie, what are you saying? I'm not going to leave you, ever."

He looks up at me, eyes rimmed in red as tears he's been holding in for days begin to pour.

"Didn't you fucking hear me? Everyone always leaves me." The crack in his voice was only the beginning of Eddie’s breakdown. "I'm just a worthless kid from a worthless family and if you knew any better you would run like hell."

"Eddie don't say that, please. I know it's hard right now but we'll get through this." I tried to comfort him but I didn't know what to say.

"That's easy for you to say, Wayne wasn't your Uncle. He didn't take care of you when you were dropped off at his doorstep because your dad was an abusive asshole and your mother had you get you away from him. He didn't struggle, morning, day, and night just to keep you fed and let himself starve. He wasn’t yours then and he’s not yours now."

Eddies hand came up to swat mine away from him and when he did I placed it in my lap. Too stunned by his words to speak I just sat quietly.

I thought to myself, He doesn't mean to be rude. The man who raised him just died. He needs time and space. He doesn't mean it.

We sit in silence while Eddie drives us back to our apartment. I fiddle my thumbs and sneak careful glances over at him. Silent tears streamed down his face and my fingers itched to wipe them from his cheeks. My heart ached at the sight of him barely holding it together.

“Eddie, maybe I should drive?” The statement came out more as a question as I watched him struggle to stay on one side of the road.

“No.” It came out in a rasp then he cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I always drive.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes and stepped on the gas more. After that, the drive went more smoothly. No more veering into the other lane or stopping too long at a red light turned green.

Finally home we went inside. The darkness added to the somber mood and the quietness rang in my ears.

“I’m gonna heat up some dinner, okay?” I spoke, heading into the kitchen to take the leftovers out of the fridge.

Eddie only grunted in response, kicking off his nice shoes and languidly undoing his tie. I listened to him slowly walking to our room before the door clicked shut.

As I stood there, the refrigerator door wide open, I let the slip. A choked cry erupted from my chest and my hands came up suddenly to cover my mouth. I had wanted to be strong for Eddie, a shoulder he could come cry on if he needed, a support for him to fall on. But honestly, I was almost as broken as he was.

Wayne might not have been related to me but when Eddie and I became the best of friends in Junior High, he took me right in. He had looked after me like I had wanted my own father too. He’s the one that finally talked some sense into Eddie and I, separately, and made us realize we liked one another.

None of that was equivalent to what he had with Eddie but what Eddie had said to me in the car had stung and although I knew it was coming from a place of grief, I couldn’t help but cry.

Staggering back into the counter, I slid down them to the floor, head hanging into my knees as I let myself weep, body shaking. It felt good to cry even if my face began to feel puffy and my throat had a huge lump in it.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when the fridge door finally closed and a warm body sat next to me on the kitchen floor, I realized that my body ached from being there and my tears had all but dried up.

Eddie slung his arm over my back, pulling me in closer to him, his other hand smoothed back my hair, fingers catching in the knots.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He apologized.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled into my legs. “You were just letting out your emotions.”

“Even so, I shouldn't have said what I did. It was unfair of me.” He sniffled.

Looking up my puffy swollen face met his and I gave him a short sorrowful smile. He gave me one back.

“Eddie, truly, you don't have to apologize.” I sit up and lean into him. “I should have just given you some space.”

He shook his head but didn’t reply, I think he knew arguing with me would yield nothing. We held each other on the floor for a while longer before finally I stood to my feet, reached down for his hand, and pulled him up.

“I love you Eddie Munson and I promise I will never leave you.” I gently lace my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, he had let it down from its bun at some point, and pulled him down to my lips. Kissing him like this, soft and sweet and full of all the love I could give, felt wonderful. Like being cleansed of all your worry and strife with white-hot fire.

“God, you’re too good for me Sweetheart. I really don’t know what I would do without you.” He pulled away, cupping my face in his hands.

“You won’t ever have to find out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #joe quinn fluff #joseph quinn fluff #angst #female reader #eddie munson angst

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