#when i was younger the thing i was told the most was that suicide would only transfer my pain to others... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snowfll · 5 months

Text

Forever Winter; Treech

pairing - victor!Treech x district7!reader summary - after Treech wins the 10th Hunger Games, he returns home but he isn’t the same boy you knew before. words - 1.58k warning - allusions to suicide and depression. note - I'm so sorry this took me forever to get out, finals are coming up and I am stressing. I have a treech fic coming out on wattpad soon, so go follow me @ snowfll.

The moment his name was called in the reaping, your entire world froze. You both were 18; it being the last year there was a chance either of you were chosen to be tributes. You thought you were safe, that the two of you would be able to live the rest of your lives in peace—well, as peaceful as you can get in District 7. You were wrong—very wrong.

“Now, time for the male tribute,” the mayor called out as he stuck his hand into the second bowl. “Treech.” Everything in the district went silent; the only thing heard was your gasp, which soon turned into tears.

His eyes were on you the entire time as he walked up the stage—it felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. As he stood there, the weight of the impending separation hung heavy in the air. That was the last time you saw him in person; as soon as the reaping ended, he had been dragged off the stage by peacekeepers.

For the next few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to work; instead, you found yourself sitting in front of one of the few TVs in the district. After being told they would show the games on live television this year, you prayed to see even a glimpse of him.

When the tribute interviews came on, you were finally able to see Treech. He looked paler and skinnier than usual, and he had a sad expression on his face. Looking around, he saw the camera pointing directly at him and began to fidget with his hat, the one you had gotten him a few years prior to keep the sun out of his face when working.

He wore it every day, claiming it was his good luck charm and comfort object. You noticed he would play with the rim whenever he was nervous or he was the main focus of a conversation. Treech never liked attention—opting to hang out with you in a secluded part of the forest as opposed to being with his large group of friends.

“So, let’s talk about your life back in District 7. You’ve caught the eyes of many capital ladies in your short time here.” The man, known as Lucky, paused as the crowd began to scream for Treech. “We are all wondering, and when I say that, I mean everyone—is there a special lady waiting on you back home?”

"Uhh, there is this one girl, but we aren’t together—yet. She is amazing, truly. If there is one thing that can motivate me through the games, it would be her.” You smiled, knowing he was talking about you. He was never interested in other girls, no matter how many times they tried to get with him. Lucky thanked him before welcoming the next tribute on stage.

The following morning marked the first day of the Hunger Games, and you refused to watch; you couldn’t watch as he fought for his life. You had nightmares, starting the day he left—watching the games would just confirm everything you saw.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

When you heard the news, you were ecstatic—he did it; he won. The prospect of him returning to the district that very day filled you with a sense of exhilaration. Anticipation built as you made your way to the train station, the sound of the train arriving growing louder with each step. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of emotions—relief, nervousness, and agitation.

Although this was bound to be a happy moment, you couldn’t help but realize the lack of people who came to greet him. The only people around were the peacekeepers standing guard and his younger sister, Talia, whom you brought along as a surprise. Treech was very close with Talia; with his parents having to work all day, they were absent most of their lives. This left him to take care of both himself and his sister.

As you caught sight of him, you took notice of the train, which seemed to be one owned by the capital rather than the ones used by the districts. The condition he was in was worse than you last saw in the interview. He wore new and improved clothing that bore the unmistakable mark of Capitol fashion—his lucky hat still on his head. The scars of the arena were evident as he was bandaged up in all kinds of places.

Approaching him, you could see the fatigue etched into his features—a weariness that went beyond his physical wounds. Once he saw you, he ran into your arms, taking off his hat as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Everything is okay; you are safe now,” you reassured him, playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him. The weight of his exhaustion seemed to lift slightly in the security of your arms, the familiar touch offering comfort amid the distress of the games.

Talia stood nearby, her eyes wide with awe and concern. The two of you shared a glance, silently acknowledging the shared responsibility felt toward Treech’s well-being.

Gently pulling away from the embrace, Treech’s eyes met yours, filled with gratitude and longing. With a tender smile, you motioned for Talia to join in the reunion. She approached the two of you cautiously, as if afraid to ruin the moment between the older ‘couple’ in front of her. Yet, as Treech brought her into a protective hug, her smile grew—she had her brother back.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Everything from that day on was perfect—or at least that's what it seemed like. Treech walked around with a smile on his face, like nothing ever happened. His laugh was normal; no matter how hard the day was, his symphony-like laugh always managed to cheer you up. You should’ve known something was wrong—how could you not know?

You found yourself observing him more closely, trying to distinguish the subtle shifts in his demeanor. Late at night, when the district fell silent, he was awake, wishing it was how it used to be before the games.

One evening, as the two of you walked through the familiar forests, you found the courage to check up on him. “Treech, are you really okay? I mean, with everything that went down. It’s okay if you are hiding your feelings; you can trust me."

He paused, his smile seeming to fade, before he replied, “I have a feeling I am going to feel this way forever. It’s not just a phase.”

You wondered how you hadn't seen it earlier—how the façade of normalcy had masked the emotional turmoil that lay beneath the surface. The entire time, you thought he was fine, living his life as a victor, when in reality he was breaking down.

From that moment on, your commitment to Treech deepened. Days were spent deciphering the intricate puzzles in his head. Once you started to spend the nights at his, you really noticed what was happening.

The quiet darkness of his room served as a canvas for the grim thoughts that occupied his mind. On the bed beside him, you were sound asleep as he sat restlessly against the headboard. As dawn approached, you woke up to find him in the same position he was in before he fell asleep—he was motionless.

Scared something happened to him, you shook his body, ultimately waking him up from his trance. His eyes, glazed over with a distant emptiness, gradually refocused on the room around him.

You spoke softly, the concern evident in your voice, “Treech, are you okay? What happened?”

He hesitated as if struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of his emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy exhale, one that carried the weight of the night. “I… I don’t know. It’s just… hard, you know?” In that instant, the vulnerability in his confession broke down the wall that kept you at a distance.

Gently, you reassured him, "You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I will love you even at your darkest, so please don’t go.” You don’t know what you would do without him; his few days of absence have already taken a huge toll on you. Even while having him back, you still fall to pieces on the floor if he isn’t around.

The sincerity in your voice seemed to pierce through the fog of his inner turmoil, offering a lifeline in the face of the darkness that threatened to consume him. His hesitance around you melted away, replaced by a shared understanding that you were in it together.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me,” Treech confessed, his voice filled with the same vulnerability he had a few moments ago. “I don’t want to go. I need you more than you can imagine. You brighten up my day—like the sun shining down through the trees.” With those words, you wrapped your arms around him, drawing him into a comforting embrace.

From that day onward, your connection deepened. Your love, like the gentle rays of a summer sun, thawed at the icy remainders of his nagging memories. There were still difficult days and haunted nights, but the assurance that he wasn’t alone in the journey provided him with the power to push through. The summer sun, your sun, illuminated his path, casting away the shadows of his past and lighting up your future, where your love went beyond even the darkest of winters—his forever winter.

313 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 3 months

Text

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

331 notes · View notes

creedslove · 7 months

Text

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART EIGHTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You and the cowboy spend some time alone, talking about your lives and having an intimate moment. Then, Jack has a heartfelt conversation with his son and asks for his help in order to do something really special for his sugar

(This is the eighteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO SEVENTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: angst, hurt, sad!cowboy, mentions of death, brief mentions of suicide attempt, fluff, smut (oral sex m!receiving and unprotected piv), mom!reader

A/N: besties, I know it's been quite a while, but I seem to have lost the inspiration to write in the past couple of weeks but it's finally back and so is our cowboy! Also, this chapter ended up a lot longer and smuttier than I expected and I hope you all enjoyed it as well! Feedback is life, so let me know what you besties think of this story!

5.5k words

Silver Star rested quietly on the green field, feeling tired after playing with Wyatt the whole day; the small animal was warm and felt when their best friend wrapped his small arms around their body, resting against the soft fur and closed his eyes.

If Jack had seen that scene any other day, he would be in a mix of happiness and affection, he loved his son so much sometimes he thought it would open a hole into his chest, right through his heart, as the love was so intense and overwhelming, and it was because of that love Jack felt like dying at that moment, he couldn't accept the pure, genuine love he felt from his son could end like that, not after what that witch he was forced to call a mother-in-law. It was so cruel to have done that to an innocent, sweet child like Wyatt. The older woman could have done anything she wanted to Whiskey himself, she could've said any words that came to her mind, it didn't matter, but she had no right to do that to his son. Wyatt refused to talk to him, the memory of his beautiful face red with tears falling down as he sniffed and looked between his mommy and his daddy, needing support and assurance, but the painful words his grandma told him stung so heavily into his chest it was hard to breathe, he could only feel a little better when he ran into his beautiful friend: Silver Star.

Jack watched his son dozing off next to his pony from his home office's window. He downed a second glass of whiskey as he sighed and dried the stubborn tears that insisted on running down his cheek. Jack had learned from a young age from his pa that men weren't supposed to cry, that crying was something done by weak people and that real men needed to hide their feelings, even better if they acted as if they didn't have any, that would be the right thing.

But unfortunately, from a younger age, he learned that things weren't like that; tragedies happened every day to good people and it was just so hard not to cry, to hold things back, Jack learned the hard way that pretending not to have feelings could destroy a man, it nearly destroyed him, his relationship with the woman he loved the most in the world and prevented him from building a beautiful father and son relationship, to which he was grateful to no end; his sugar and their baby boy Wyatt was the best thing he could have ever had, the way it changed his life that was once shallow and empty into something worth living. The cowboy just had to do something about it, but he didn't know what or how to. If he didn't feel so bad about the entire situation, it would've been quite funny to see a senior agent like himself, who was able to take a group of men down with a lasso without much effort, was just so anxious about dealing with a four-year-old. You, on the other hand, stood right outside Jack's office, not sure if you should enter it or not. You wanted to talk to him, touch him, look into his warm, heart-warming eyes, kiss his perfect soft lips and remind him everything was alright, that your family was a beautiful and strong one, that your son would walk into the door with his tummy howling in hunger and the three of you would have a delicious dinner together, but you didn't know until that extent it would happen; you didn't know how hurt Jack was, but you knew it was a lot, maybe he was somehow blaming it on you, and you couldn't even argue with that, as it was your mom who did it, who made that scene and angered you to no end. It wasn't your fault, but you felt guilty because you had never imagined your mom would be that low towards you and your son. Jack had made so many mistakes, but he was a good man, he was kind and sweet and he would never hurt you and your son ever again. It was unfair and heartbreaking to say the least.

After thinking to yourself way too many times, you decided to enter, seeing he hadn't locked himself in, but he was sitting on his chair, watching out the window as Wyatt spent time with Silver Pony.

"Jack?" You called him in a soft, low voice, hoping he wouldn't bark at you. Overall, Jack was a gentleman, but you'd seen his ugly side and you really hoped it wouldn't be the case at that moment. You were silent as you approached him, your fingers tangling into his stubborn curls that tried to make an appearance, they were messy from his usage of the hat and it had given him a boyish look. You smiled at him, as he looked up at you, his face was serious and his eyes were red from crying; it broke your heart, your mom had no right to cause that much trouble to your family. Taking another step, you stood in front of him, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arm around his shoulder. Jack let out a sigh and hid his face into your neck, nuzzling your skin softly and taking in your scent, there was nothing he loved more in the world than your body, your weight, your scent on him. You could feel his lips on your skin, his mustache tickling you softly as his arms formed a tight grip, his big hands groping your body in a way it moved your body as closely to his as possible.

"Sugar, I-"

"Shh, don't say anything cowboy, I know it" she said and kissed his temple, right where Harry's bullet had broken the skin and killed your man for a couple of hours. That story always made shivers run down your spine, you couldn't believe he had died and Ginger had managed to bring him back to life and to you, but you never wanted him to leave again.

"Don't leave me again, Jack, please, I beg you, my heart won't take another disappointment from you" you said and his lips trailed their way down your neck

"I ain't never leaving you, sugar… I need you as much as you need me, we're meant to be and no matter what happened, that witch ain't breaking us apart" his voice was serious and firm, he was never leaving his son nor his sugar, that was a fact, Jack's heart was only beating because of his family, that was the only thing that has kept him alive after the last disastrous events of his life. He was sure that if it weren't the love he felt for his beloved son and sugar he would've just been gone, either when he tried doing it through his own hands or when he nearly found his fate inside the meat grinder.

"I'm so sorry sugar, your mom is a horrible person, you are so different from her, and the things she said, about you and Wyatt being a replacement… it isn't true, I love you both with all my heart, it was this love that kept me alive for so long, otherwise I wouldn't have-"

"Don't go on missions anymore, Jack. Please. You have a great position at Statesman, both the agency and the company, you don't need the money, nor the thrill, you don't have to risk not coming home anymore, I know you won't be reckless, but Wyatt and I need you, what happened today was just a bump on the way, our son is crazy for you and if you just go and talk to him, with patience, I'm sure he will understand, he's small, but he's as smart as his handsome daddy" you smiled at your cowboy and pecked his lips gently. He looked at you with his sad eyes and it felt like your heart was pierced through

"I know what's going through this thick skull of yours cowboy, I know exactly how you are torturing yourself and before you go further into it, remember that my mom is a bitter woman, she's someone who doesn't accept I take my own decisions, if she got angry because of what happened between us it would be understandable, but we both know it isn't because of that, it's just because she simply can't accept I love you and we have a family together"

"But sugar, the things she said there's some truth to it… I made you go away as if you meant nothing and -" his voice broke and Jack's eyes filled with tears once more, he had hurt you so much and he already suffered his punishment, which was carrying that guilt for the rest of his life.

"You did, Jack Daniels. And it was the worst thing you could have ever done to someone who only loved you, to an innocent baby who grew up in my womb without even knowing what was happening, but Jack…" you held his head between your hands and looked into his eyes "you regret it so bad, I'm sure the pain and the guilt you feel now is worse than the pain you caused me, and I'm not going to lie, I think you'll suffer with it for a long time, cowboy, but what I can offer you now is my forgiveness and my love and a second chance so we can start over, it will never erase what happened between us, so if something similar ever happens again, you can be sure you will never see me or Wyatt again" you told him seriously, but you expression softened up immediately as you leaned towards him and pecked his lips once more, longer this time, your hand touching his smooth cheek, as you deepened it, a soft muffled sound of pleasure coming from you, so you broke the kiss and nibbled his lower lip

"That ain't never happening, sugar, I promise you with my life, that I will never disappoint you and Wyatt ever again, all I want is to be the best husband and father in the world, I love you so much, sugar… You are the love of my life; I tried fighting that off for so long, I tried running away from this feeling, even before our son, I already knew it but couldn't accept it, but you had always been the one, I know I don't deserve it, but if you just give me one chance, one simple chance, I can make you my wife and maybe one day, we could give our son a little brother or a little sister-"

You kissed the cowboy in order to shut him up. Jack often talked too much, sometimes it was something good, and sometimes it was something bad, at that moment, after you both opened your hearts, you didn't want to discuss the future, not that you didn't want it with him, you were certain you did, you wanted to marry that stupid cowboy, not so sure about another Daniels baby, not yet, but you definitely wanted your family together for good; however, at that moment you both needed something else, you needed to be close, to show each other you were there physically rather than using just words. You looked outside the window and smiled sadly at the sight of Wyatt dozing off next to his pony, but you knew that was something only Jack could fix later, so you closed the blinders and turned to him, lowering yourself and kissing him "let me take care of my cowboy, mm? Let me show him how much I love and appreciate him, make him close his eyes and relax and forget about his problems and sorrows" you whispered against his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin in an affectionate way, nibbling his flesh at the same time your hands roamed around his torso, unbuttoning his shirt and finding his warmth underneath it, the cowboy was experienced and knew exactly where that was going, his eyes darkened with lust at the same time his right hand tangled into your hair, bringing it into a messy ponytail while you got on your knees in front of him.

"Fuck sugar, what are you doing to me? You wanna kill your old cowboy like that?" He bit his lips and looked down at you, loving how you smiled at him and undid his belt. You rested your arms on his thick thighs, undoing his pants at the same time you could see his bulge getting bigger and bigger, the tent forming in his pants could be amusing if you weren't so needy of him. The thought of taking his cock into your mouth was causing you to feel as if you were on fire for your cowboy. Senior Agent Whiskey would never fail in turning you into a cock slut for him.

He stared into your eyes, giving you a consenting nod and showing he was ready for his treat

"Don't be sad my cowboy, let me show you your worth" you purred with innocent eyes at the same time you freed his cock. Wrapped your hands around his length, feeling it pulsating under your touch, his warm skin, his popping veins and that glistening tip, filled with pre cum, it all made you lick your lips before finally taking your cowboy into your mouth. You left hand gripped the side of his thigh, nails sinking softly into his skin as you went deeper down onto him, taking his length as far as you could, feeling the cowboy pulsating in the back of your throat. The right hand holding him by the base, and then going to his heavy balls, it always made them quiver and the cowboy whimpered whenever you touched, massaged and gently squeezed them. You turned your attention back to his needy tip, suckling on it, and felt how tight his grip was on your hair. It made you even more turned on, your inner walls clenching as you felt the pooling arousal at the same time your hard clit throbbed, needing some attention from that cowboy's rough hands or soft, devilish tongue. His breathing got heavier, he panted and his dirty words lost among obscene sounds coming from his mouth and you knew he was close, it was just a matter of seconds for you to taste his hot load.

"Sugar, stop" he groaned and held you by the hair, stopping you from continuing tasting him, just as he licked his lips "come on, sit on my cock, ride your fucking cowboy" he demanded in a serious tone which was more than enough evidence he was in charge again. You nodded obediently, leaving a soft, chaste kiss on his tip, causing his cock to throb some more and stood in front of him.

Jack's hands were sloppy as he undressed you, he wasn't too careful, the urge and the rush to get you naked, the way he stripped you off your jeans and thumbed your sensitive clit over your thin panties. He wasn't a patient man, not at that moment, so he used his index finger to move your panties to the side by its string. He let out another low groan the moment the fabric brushed against your soaked lips and he could see the wet puddle it formed, he loved to see how wet you were for him, you were his perfect slut, and he wouldn't trade that for any other cunt in the world. His fingers spread your pussy lips apart just enough for him to take a good look at your wetness and how hard your clit was. He chuckled seeing it throbbed at nothing but air and he knew you were perfect for him, you took his cock so well, all your holes were his and no one would touch you but that goddamn cowboy.

"Come here, sugar, your cowboy needs you, be a good fucking slut and ride me" he said and pulled you to his lap, helping you straddle him as he gripped the base of his cock, using his own tip to slap it against your clit. You moved your hips without any words, letting his tip rub against your clit slowly at first but fastening the pace as his length ran through your wet folds, just enough to have your honey spread all over his shaft

"Mm don't tease me cowboy, please, I need it as much as you do" you whimpered and in response Jack kissed you once more. His hands went for your hips, sustaining your weight and helping you sink down onto him. You slippery cunt stretching at the size of him and sliding so quickly, making you feel full and whole because of him; it was a feeling you never wanted to let go, you knew you belonged to him, that damn cowboy would be your owner, your master forever. As you moved slightly on top of him, you took both of his hands and placed it on your breasts, Jack fucking loved your tits, how soft they were, your pretty nipples pearking hard. He squeezed them, massaging gently while his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, at the same time you moved faster on top of him, riding the cowboy at your own pace, not getting enough of him, ever.

Jack pulled your torso forward, taking his hungry mouth to your nipples, suckling on each of them while his hands traveled to your ass cheeks, squeezing them and sustaining your weight so you could ride him faster and more safely. You frowned as he ignored your clit on purpose, you didn't understand why he was such a tease sometimes, but even if avoided your sensitive spot, your walls didn't fail in tightening and contracting and he felt that knot in his lower belly. He knew he wouldn't hold back any longer, so he stopped you and pulled you for another kiss

"Get off me, sugar" he commanded as you felt a little confused at first, not understanding exactly why he told you to stop riding him, but it all made sense when he stood up right behind you and told you to sit on his desk with your legs spread, which you gladly obeyed your cowboy, biting your lips as he took his time watching your body at full display for him.

"You like it, cowboy?"

"You know I fucking do, my beautiful sugar, you are always so sweet to me, only when you are being a filthy dirty slut, then you are my best girl, baby girl" he groaned and slapped your cunt without a warning, smirking at the whimper you let out. Then, Jack lowered himself, hovering over you, using his right hand to spread your pussy lips wide, making your clit so exposed to him, at his mercy, before he just lapped at it, he didn't touch the rest of your pussy though, only his tongue flicked your needy clit, the cowboy's left hand was strong enough to hold you in place the moment he began suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy hole wouldn't stop clenching and gaping so softly at the cowboy's ministrations, you gushed wetness, as it dropped down your asshole and it made him savor every passing second of having you as he pleased. He knew your body just as well as you knew his and the moment he focused on how your legs were shaking, how burning hot your skin felt against his own, he just knew you were close to your orgasm.

But Whiskey wasn't letting you cum just yet, not while he didn't fuck you exactly the way he wanted to. So Jack gave your clit one last lick and smirked at you, his hands flipping you over his desk "spread these beautiful legs, sugar, take my cock like you love it, baby" he whispered into your ear, kissing your neck and using his teeth to nibble at it at the same time he slid his cock once more inside of you. Whiskey's hands were on your hips, holding you by your sides as he adjusted the pace and then went for your hair, gripping at it as he fucked you. The cowboy knew he couldn't hold it any longer and the moment he felt your cunt clenching around him, your clit rubbing against the cool wood of his desk at the same he railed you was enough to set you to your very needed orgasm. You moaned your cowboy's name as loud as you could, his cock was ball deep inside of you at the same time you felt that characteristic throbbing and your Whiskey couldn't hold it anymore, cumming hard, with a loud groan while his thick load flooded into you.

•••

Jack rubbed your arms as you snuggled towards him as tight as you could, while the two of you shared the small couch he kept in his home office. You were still in your orgasm haze, wrapping your head around everything that happened between you and your cowboy, thinking of how intense your wave of lust had been; one moment you two were having a heartfelt, serious and emotional conversation and the next, you were riding your cowboy. However, it felt just so good, so carefree, so loved and desired. Jack Daniels knew how to touch a woman and make her feel like a goddess, that you had to give into your cowboy. As your eyes were getting heavy, you felt him nuzzling your neck, his hand resting on your stomach as he rubbed your belly gently and looked into your eyes

"Funny how I wanted another child so bad and yet I can't even get our son to talk to me after what happened" he sighed and you shook your head, pecking his lips

"Wyatt loves you like crazy, he's a little hurt and he needed his space, go talk to him in a while and he will be the sweetest child we both know" you assured him, taking his hand and entwining your fingers together.

Your cowboy kissed your lips gently, stroking your cheek with his gentle touch under rough hands and stared into your eyes with his warm brown ones, a soft frown appearing on his face

"What made you change your mind about me… well, us?"

You licked your lips and stared at him, would he be mad if he knew the real reason? Would Jack consider it a lack of privacy? Perhaps he would even find it offensive? You weren't very sure… visiting his first wife's grave seemed so personal, something he had always done and openly talked about it but never really invited you to do so, which you understood perfectly and felt quite relieved because you didn't know how you would do so, however, you decided you wouldn't keep any secrets from your cowboy, you two were starting your relationship once more and building it up over a bunch of lies wouldn't work at all.

"I-I went to Gabriella's grave, Jack… yesterday, when you took our son to Statesman with you, I hadn't planned on it, but while I was riding Silver Pony I ended up going too far from the property and accidentally stopped by the cemetery, then I thought I should just walk in, I'm sorry if you don't like it for whatever reason or if you think it was an invasion to your privacy, I just wanted to pay my respect to someone who was so important to you, and while I was there, I realized life is too short, and it's not fair wasting our time playing hard to get. We love each other, we want to be together, we have a beautiful son, a small but gorgeous family and our whole future ahead of us, I mean… Why not?!" You poured your heart out, being as honest as someone could be, showing him how much you meant it, and in return, Jack leaned towards you, kissing you again, his heart was a puddle of love and affection, he couldn't even imagine you had gone to Gabriella's grave, not even in his wildest dreams, but he wasn't mad, quite the opposite, it brought peace within him, to know you had acknowledged her story with him in a physical way, instead of just having heard about it, it comforted him and it made him feel better about himself.

"I love you, sugar, with my whole heart"

•••

After taking you to his master bedroom so you could shower and relax, Jack decided to go after Wyatt. He had given his son enough time but he wanted to make things clear, talk to his son honestly and explain to him that everything that old witch had said was filled with poison. While you were in the shower, he managed to take something he wanted from his nightstand drawer and headed to the kitchen, knowing exactly what could possibly cheer his son up. Cutting up a generous slice of the peach pie you'd made and a huge spoon of vanilla ice cream, Jack had a safe guess the way to his son's pure little heart was a good dessert, just as his own, when Jack Daniels was nothing but a little boy as well. He chuckled at himself and hoped that would work for them. Walking through the green fields, he didn't take long to spot his son and his beloved pony. Silver Star seemed exhausted after spending the whole day playing, lying on the grass as Wyatt caressed its fur gently, he wouldn't stop talking and giggling, certainly telling his friend all about a fascinating story that inhabited his creative mind. Jack's heart warmed with how sweet he truly was, sitting down next to him and gently rubbing his son's back. Wyatt wasn't expecting and jumped a little startled.

"Daddy?!"

"I thought you'd like some sugar, cowboy," Jack said, offering his son a plate with the pie and ice cream, Wyatt watching it with wide eyes as his tummy growled. Only at that moment he remembered he hadn't eaten anything the whole day and that pie looked and smelled so yummy when his mommy was making it. The little boy extended his small hands and took the plate carefully, taking a big bite and moaning in approval at the taste of it. He chewed up his dessert calmly and giggled as Silver Star leaned towards Jack's touch while the cowboy rubbed her face gently.

"She likes you daddy!" Wyatt said sweetly and stared at Whiskey, who tried organizing his thoughts in order to know the right thing to say and above all, trying to hide the nervousness. One could think it was actually quite funny to see senior Agent Whiskey acting that way, but a conversation with his son was much more important than any high profile meeting he could ever have with Champ or another member of the agency. He cleared his throat softly

"Wyatt, daddy wants to talk to you… Mommy and I are very sorry about the things grandma said, she had no right to say those mean things. Some people are so sad and bitter they can't handle seeing other people like you, your beautiful mama and me happy, and unfortunately grandma is one of these people, do you understand?"

Wyatt nodded softly and wouldn't break eye contact with his daddy, he was tiny yes, but so smart and attentive, and the cowboy's heart weighed heavily with pride at how similar his son was to his beautiful sugar.

"So… what grandma said isn't true, I love you and your beautiful mama so much, my boy. You and her are my world, I will always love and cherish you both, daddy had another family, yeah. We, uh-" his voice broke as Jack was still getting used to talking about them so frequently, they spent so long it his memory it was kind of odd to mention them so often, especially to his son, who was only a child, but showed great emotional intelligence, just by the way he placed his tiny little hand on top of his daddy, in a silent way to reassure him and tell him to go on.

"Well, we, uh.. I mean, I had a family, a long time ago, way before I met your beautiful mama, I was married to another girl, she was also beautiful and kind, and we had a little boy too, but he was still very tiny and he lived in her belly, like one day you lived in your Mama's belly…"

"What happened, daddy?" Wyatt couldn't hold back his curiosity and wanted to know more about it.

"Well, they went to live in heaven and daddy was all alone for a very long time. Until one day I met your mom, my sugar and my life changed for good. Your mommy was and she still is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and for the first time in years I had a reason to smile, to feel happy, but the fact that my first family had to go live in heaven still scared me a lot, and when I found out your mommy was carrying you in her belly" Jack brushed his thumb over his son's cheek in a gentle caress "... I was terrified that one day you and mommy would be gone too, so I made her go away, but I regret this every single day because there's nothing in the world that I love more than you and her, and I will never be away from the two of you, ever again. I promise you, my son, we will always be a family. All I'm trying to say is that no matter what grandma says, I love you and your mommy and I hope one day you can forgive me for what happened"

Jack looked down, trying to hide the annoying, insisting tears that ran down his cheek. He sniffed and wiped his face, being surprised by how fast Wyatt climbed up his lap and hugged him.

"I love you daddy" he said not understanding why his dad had tears in his eyes, but he knew that whenever he cried, his mommy would always hold him, so he figured it would work out with his daddy too.

Whiskey wrapped his arms around his son's small frame, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back gently, that cowboy knew he didn't deserve that much love, forgiveness and affection from his son and you, he'd been too bad for the two of you, but he was going to get down on his knees every single day and thank the Lord for being so blessed like he was.

He kept his son in a tight embrace, not many words were needed, just the two of them, the big cowboy and the little one, in each other's company silently proving nothing could come between their bond.

It took them a few minutes to calm down their emotions and finally be able to talk about other things, just as if nothing had happened, Wyatt finished his dessert and told his dad about his fun afternoon with Silver Star. Jack listened to it intently, as if it was the most interesting piece of information in the world, and well, to him it was, because he loved his son and he was fascinated by him on a daily basis, still being a little shocked at how a child could be so smart and precious like he was. Only when Jack patted his pocket, was that he remembered one thing he needed to discuss with his son.

"Wyatt, I know you love your mommy as much as I love her, right? So I need your help to do something really nice for her, but it gotta be a cowboy secret okay? So you can't tell mommy"

And Wyatt was sold at that moment; he loved his mommy and he loved doing nice things for his mommy and above all, he was so excited to be a part of a cowboy secret, which meant only his daddy and him could know what it was, after all, Wyatt was already a cowboy and he liked it. He nodded eagerly and Jack laughed, getting the small box out of his pocket and opened it, showing his son the gorgeous engagement ring he had bought

"I need your cowboy help to make mommy a surprise so I can give her this, alright?!"

____

159 notes · View notes

blues824 · 9 months

Note

Hello can I please request a sequel to the undertaker in the remarried empress.

⚰️Imagen her making a mourning locket for heinley after his brother died and him thanking her for it .

⚰️How would everyone react to her telling that she became a grim reaper because in her previous life she comided sueside and that this is a punishment in her world.

⚰️Remember when mckenna gets shot because of sovieshit giving orders to shoot every bird that visits navier and ergi asking her to help mckenna.

⚰️How would everyone react to her her being together with kosiar and her joking to him if he ever kills someone she will hide it but don't go to another undertaker because that's cheating.

⚰️How would everyone react to her refusing to build rattrash a coufin and being shocked that she can hold grudges against people because she is known for her happy personality and chill nature .

⚰️Rember navier gets smugeld in the carage it looks like something the undertaker whoud build but at least the undertaker whoud put padding on the inside to make it comfy.

Part 1

TW: mentions of suicide

Sovieshu Vict

Back in Part 1, I already explained that you had told him to his face that you never wanted to see him or Rashta again, and that you would never make Rashta a coffin because she did not deserve your craftsmanship. While you never stated you wouldn’t make one for Sovieshu himself, it was kind of inferred. You retreated to your parlor, and have banned him from entering your own ‘empire’.

To say he was distraught would be an understatement. Not only was he heartbroken, but now you knew about how things work within the palace. All one needs to do is tell you a joke and you would gladly tell them what they wanted to know. What he didn’t know was that you wouldn’t betray the Empire like that, as it could bring harm to those you loved. Like you loved the Phantomhive family back in your world, you loved the Imperial Family (really the Trovi half).

Sovieshu had hired a hitman, but he never heard back from him. Unfortunately for them both, you were aware that you couldn’t die because being a reaper was your punishment for committing suicide in your past life. It was definitely not a great day for the hitman, because you used your scythe to kill him. It was all kept under wraps (perks of being an undertaker), and you just treated the body like normal.

Rashta

She was aware that you were quite serious about your promise in that you never wanted to see her again, and that when her body is sent to you when she inevitably dies, it would be refused. However, even though you knew how she would die, she did not. Sure, she knew she was human, but she didn’t know you were a reaper. She was younger than you, so she thought you would be the one to pass first.

Anyways, she could see Sovieshu’s distress after you left, and it made her so frustrated. The only thing that calmed her down even slightly was the fact that you were in a courtship with Lord Kosair, and you seemed to be completely in love and thus occupied. Unfortunately for her, you did not give her the information she wanted about her previous owners, and that information would be locked away because of what she did out of jealousy.

The young mistress could beg through letters, but you would not give her the time of day. Spoilers, but when you heard that she was executed, you actually refused the commission of a coffin. You remained cold and set upon your decision from all those years ago. You did, however, attend the funeral held, and you placed a rose upon the rather mediocre wooden coffin. You would most likely see her in Hell, if your punishment is fulfilled.

Navier Trovi

She had heard what you said to her husband, and later found out what you said to Rashta when she was helping you pack your things and bidding you farewell. She had to hold in a laugh at your boldness, since not a lot of people would dare insult the mistress of the Emperor or the Emperor to their faces before storming off without an apology. That was when you decided that you could trust her with information free of charge; you told her that you were a Grim Reaper. She was shocked, but you explained that you used to be human and were being punished for committing suicide in your past life.

With that being said, Navier employed your expertise a few times. One example would be when McKenna was shot. The Empress had a servant rush the bird to you so that you could treat it, and you got to work. You cut through the bullshit though, and you knew it was McKenna and not a random carrier bird. He ended up surviving, fortunately, so all was well. You did, however, send a letter to Sovieshu saying that the bird was a letter from you (instead of Heinrey) to make him feel even shittier.

The last time your services were employed was when you were commissioned to work on the getaway vehicle. It was very last-minute, as no one knew that the Emperor would try to keep Navier within the palace. Understanding of the circumstances, you set to work right away, and you made a compartment that would secretly hold Navier inside of it. You designed it like one of your coffins; soft wood, soft cushions, and the scent of the wood was actually pleasant. You engraved a small message that she would be able to read, and it read “Can’t wait to see you!”

Heinrey Lazlo

When his brother died, you were the one who directed the funeral. Again, you did funerals for everyone, as you thought people who deserved them should have access to your beautifully made coffins; even if families couldn’t afford it, you would grant it to them free of charge. That being said, while you were performing the autopsy, you snipped a miniscule section of his hair and placed it in a mourning locket. At the funeral, you presented it to the now-King Heinrey, and you bowed.

Then, there was the whole ordeal with getting Navier to the Western Kingdom. You set to work on a carriage, even going as far as to employ other people to assist you. However, when the carriage itself was constructed, you paid everyone and went back to incorporate a hiding place within the carriage. It was in the seat, and you used your expertise and designed it like a coffin. You put padding in it as well, so that Navier could be comfortable.

It was a few weeks later where they came back to the Western Kingdom, and they had permission from the High Priest to wed. You were very excited for them, but there was another enemy on your radar: the widow, Lady Krista. You made it clear that you knew that she (SPOILERS) was in love with Heinrey, but you made her a mourning locket as well to remind her that it would be very inappropriate to go after her brother-in-law.

Kosair Trovi

You both are just a bunch of silly gooses when you are with each other. Many jokes have been shared as well as many fleeting kisses. You told him that if he kills someone, you would be there to deal with the body. Then, you straddled him and came real close to his face just to say that if he ever goes to another undertaker, he would be cheating on you. He responded by placing a kiss on your lips and saying that the only undertaker he would ever go to would be you.

Anyways, he helps you with building the carriage that would transport his future brother-in-law along with his sister. Because he knows what this is for, you trust him to help you in building the hiding spot within it as well. You showed him your secrets, how you build your coffins because you fashioned the secret space just like those glorified boxes for dead people. It was the first time where he had seen you so serious rather than showing a bunch of emotion.

He remembers what you said to Sovieshu and Rashta, and while you are working on the getaway carriage, he asks if you were serious. You turned to him with a flash of anger in your glowing eyes as you stated that you would refuse their bodies if they ever managed to darken your doorstep either in life or death. You could be very scary sometimes.

134 notes · View notes

lbulldesigns · 18 days

Text

AITAH FOR GHOSTING MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS FOR THREE YEARS, FOR MY OWN MENTAL HEALTH?

Posted 7th of January, 2024

Disclaimer: mentions of self-harm, violence, and attempted suicide.

Please bear with me. This post will be long.

I (21f) have been estranged from my family for the past three years.

I want to start off by saying that my family aren't bad people. They were never abusive, and they did care for me, but they could never understand me or the full extent of my issues.

Some background. When I was around five, my sister (26f), we'll call her V, and I witnessed our parents' death at the hands of some trigger-happy Enforcers. We don't know why they decided our parents deserved to die, but they did, and we were left orphaned when the authorities couldn't find any other family to take us in.

We bounced around in the system for a while, fearing being torn from each other at any moment, before a family friend was able to foster and then officially adopt us. Our AD (adoptive dad) was a godsend, he was and still (to my knowledge) is the most patient and gentle man I know. Despite looking like a wolf LOL.

Along with gaining a new father we also gained two brothers (twin 23m) the older twin (C) takes after our dad, Kind and patient. The younger twin (M) however is a little nasty bitch, who took upon himself to make my life in particular an ongoing hell. He was never physically abusive, but he was verbally abusive. It felt like not a day would go by when he wasn't putting me down and treating my existence like it was something insignificant. He never had a problem with V, just me.

For the first six years everyone else would defend me, put him in his place, and overall hold him accountable but at some point, they stopped holding him accountable and just expected me to grow a thicker skin. I still remember the day when I went crying to my sister and rather than comfort me, just rolled her eyes and asked if I could maybe not take him seriously because she needed to finish her group project. To her credit, she apologised for that but it was hard to rely on her after that.

Long story short, M made my home life unbearable, and I had bullies at school that made it unbearable. Especially once I was in high school and my best (and only) friend started making friends of his own. I want to say that I was cool with this, but in reality, I turned into an absolute brat and refused to get along with any of them. I wish I didn't, but I just couldn't help but feel betrayed and genuinely acted on those emotions.

And this is how I was with everyone. Constantly betrayed and acting out. It was no wonder everyone I knew got sick of me.

My Dad was constantly worrying about me.

My older brother avoided me as much as possible, to avoid my outbursts.

My sister was just constantly swinging between feeling guilty, angry, and just done with my constant outbursts. Especially when these outbursts were directed at her girlfriend, who constantly talked about how she wanted to be an Enforcer to protect others (take a wild guess why I couldn't like her). V even slapped me for something I said (I can't remember what) to her GF that made her cry.

And my best friend... hates me.

It's my own fault, obviously.

What led to the title of my post is this.

I told my (former) best friend that I loved him and wanted to be with him, and he just raged at me. Apparently, he was seeing someone and thought that I was pulling something in order to break them up. He didn't believe me when I said that I didn't know he was in a relationship (I genuinely didn't know) but he wouldn't hear it and called me an AH and said he was done with me.

I felt humiliated and heartbroken, when I got home that day I was crying and M was the first person, unfortunately, who I came across. And the first thing he does is scoff and roll his eyes, and said "fucking crybaby".

I don't fully remember what happened, I blacked out, but I remember my dad pulling me off of M and his face was a bloody mess. I'm pretty sure that I broke his nose and then some, my dad was so angry. The angriest I've ever seen him; he actually shook me by the shoulders and demanded what was wrong with me. And when I couldn't answer, they told me to get out. Which I did.

I just bolted from the house, the sound of shouting behind me, and just kept running until I got to the Bridge of Progress.

I was just so empty and lost, and the water below looked so tempting. I was about to end it all when my guardian angel showed up.

Ez (21m) was walking by when he saw me about to jump and, without hesitation, climbed up next to me and asked what we were doing.

He saved me that day, without even trying. He listened to my whining and rather than offer me empty promises of "it'll be okay" instead said "girl you messed up. Wanna go on an adventure with me?"

We've been friends ever since.

I took him on his offer and went home to collect some things, when I got there the lights were off so I climbed up to my bedroom window and let myself in. I grabbed my clothes, some saved up cash, my laptop, and my documents (in case I needed them) and left a note for my family saying "bye".

And that was three years ago. I haven't been in contact with them, I don't follow them on social media, and I left my mobile behind so they were never able to get hold of me.

I completely and utterly. Ghosted them. And I don't entirely regret it.

In the last three years I have gained close friends, experienced new things, seen interesting things, and have felt well enough to actually want to seek therapy. My mental health improved greatly, although I still have issues but still am lot better than I was before.

However, I can't help but feel like an AH. My family weren't bad, just fed up. They are genuinely good people (even M) it's just that I bring the worst out in people. But recently I've been wondering if I should reach out or not.

What if doing so disrupts their lives? What if my leaving improved their lives?

I don't know.

AITAH if I reach out to my family after ghosting them for three years?

(This is a fanfic. Please read tags)

51 notes · View notes

withlovewriting · 29 days

Text

All I Ever Knew, Only You 14: Light 'Em Up

Chapter Fourteen.

So bright, the flames burned in our hearts, That we found each other in the dark, Black beast, out in the wilderness, We are fighting to survive and convalesce, But we're gonna live, we're gonna live, at last, Then I heard the church bells from afar, But we found each other in the dark

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,726

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of injuries, fluff, Protective!Hopper here for duty, the death of dart that i am still not over, attempted suicide in the absolute most minimal way i promise (you'll understand when you read it i promise, everyone is good everything is fine i just don't know how else to label it), i am now totally unsure which one is the bigger idiot.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: coming soon

Chapter Fourteen: Light 'Em Up

The tires of the blue Camero groaned in discontent, screeching as the car finally came to a stop with half of Merrill’s pumpkin sign still attached to it.

Steve had progressively become more awake, and also more panicked during the ride, and despite the pain you’d be in any time you had to brace during Max’s overzealous drive, you couldn’t deny the fact that had any of the boys driven, you probably wouldn’t have made it out of the Byers’ driveway.

“Told you. Zoomer.” Max told them proudly before pushing open her door and allowing Mike to climb out, followed by Dustin as you and Steve were left to clamber — or in Steve’s case, fall — out of the too-small backseats.

You made your way around to the trunk, grabbing goggles as the kids tied their bandannas around their faces. You didn’t have much time to look for real supplies, and you just prayed that what you had would suffice.

Either way, it would have to do.

Steve groaned as he pulled himself up from the floor where he’d all but rolled to, his face beaten and swollen slightly as he stumbled for a moment whilst he tried to get his bearings.

“No… Guys. Hey, where do you think you’re going?” He questioned Mike as the younger boy strolled right past him, can of gasoline in hand, “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to the hole, all right?”

You passed Steve, too focused on the task at hand to bother yourself with his dramatics, and instead handed Mike a rope as the older boy continued to emphasize his argument. Walking back around to the trunk to grab your own gear, Steve’s hand shot out, the boy stumbling a little as he held on to you.

“This ends now!”

Shrugging his hand off, you sent him a sharp glare whilst Dustin finally responded, “Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”

Dustin stormed off, making his way toward the group as they began to lower items into the hole whilst Steve stood — still a little dazed — and inhaled deeply. You could tell he was frustrated, but at least he wasn’t yelling about it anymore.

“He’s not wrong.”

“You too? I thought we were on the same side here.” Steve sighed, his tired eyes roaming over your face. The boy had perfected the kicked puppy dog look.

Biting your bottom lip, you moved closer to the boy and placed your hand on his arm that was leaning against the open car door, “We are on the same side, okay? Look, these kids are gonna go down there whether we go with them or not. If you need to stay up here, that’s fine. I get it. But I’m not letting them go down there alone, especially not with those things running around.”

Steve sighed, tightly squeezing his eyes closed, “We said we’d keep them safe…”

Your hand moved from Steve’s forearm, hovering over his bruised knuckles for just a second before gently squeezing his hand, causing the boy’s eyes to pop open almost comically, “So let's keep them safe. You got this, Steve. We got this.”

Your left hand grabbed a backpack from the trunk containing a bandanna, goggles and Steve’s trusty nailed bat. You held it out to him with bated breath, waiting for his decision. After the relentless attack from Billy, you wouldn’t blame him if he decided he needed a time-out. Your own head was throbbing, you couldn’t begin to imagine how his felt.

Nor could you ignore the relief that flooded your bones when he took the bag from you, a simple nod from the boy before you began to pull on your own gear.

In usual Steve fashion, the boy demanded he go first into the hole to check it out and make sure there wasn’t a pack of hungry Demo-dogs waiting underneath for you all to drop directly into their open mouths.

“Holy shit,” Steve gazed around the tunnel as the rest of you dropped down, Mike pulling out a map before setting off in the direction he believed would lead you all to the hive mind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey. I don’t think so. Any of you little shits die down here, we’re getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve grumbled, pushing past Mike, “From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let's go.”

You all began to follow him, no questions asked as Steve led the group and you brought up the rear. By the time you were deep enough into the tunnels, you were ready to throw your flashlight at him. A little hustle this, and c’mon, pick up the pace that.

You’d almost forgotten that he was captain of both the basketball team and the swim team and was more than comfortable ordering people around.

Vines wrapped their way along the long floors, keeping you conscious of where you were stepping, as if they might leap out at you any second and dangle you upside down, and the particles of something floating in the air made you cautious that maybe the bandannas you all wore were not enough to keep your respiratory system safe and working.

You felt like your head was turning every few seconds, paranoia from the Demo-dogs, as well as uncharted tunnels, making you feel on edge and Dustin’s sudden screaming really didn’t discourage that.

Rushing toward the boy as he fell to the ground, his shouts desperate enough to rattle your bones, you grabbed at him as he flinched away, unaware of your presence until you managed to get him to look at you, the boy calling for his friends as the group quickly returned.

Slipping from your grasp as he continued to flail about, the group surrounded him, “What happened?”

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!”

He began to hack up a cough as you pulled down your bandanna, trying to catch Dustin’s attention as you called his name, pulling his face into your hands, all but forcing the boy to look up at you,

“Dustin, relax!”

Gulping in a large breath of air, the boy finally settled, his blue eyes peering into yours, “I’m okay…”

“You serious?”

“Very funny, man. Nice. Very nice.”

The group continued on, murmuring under their breath as you helped pick the boy back up, a possibly too-hard whack to the back of his cap to send him on his way after you pulled up your own bandanna once more.

This was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve sighed, flashlight pointed at the crossroad of tunnels surrounding you, “I think we found your hub.”

“Let’s drench it.”

And so you got to work, covering the walls and surrounding tunnel entrances in gasoline. Turning toward Steve, who was busy pouring out his own canister, you pulled your bandanna down once more,

“Are you sure you won’t, like… light up like a Christmas tree?”

Steve’s brow cocked, the only hint that he was silently questioning you.

“You know, with all that hairspray, are you sure you’re not flammable?”

Despite not being able to see his facial features, you felt it in your soul when Steve was glaring at you, causing a smirk to pull one side of your mouth upward.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the boy’s monotonous tone only caused your smile to broaden as he moved closer toward you, the tips of his sneakers knocking your own slightly as he reached forward with his free hand, rubber glove gently gripping the bandanna that now loosely hung around your neck and pulling it back over your nose, “And stop pulling this down. We don’t know what’s floating around down here.”

Rolling your eyes, you secured the cloth a little tighter around your face and wondered how ridiculous you all looked.

“You guys ready?” Steve asked once you were all standing at the entrance to the tunnel you came from.

“Light her up,” Dustin confirmed as Steve pulled out his lighter.

You felt his dark eyes peering up at you from where he knelt on the floor, “We are in such deep shit.”

You placed a hand over Max’s shoulder, pushing the girl in front of you as the tunnels lit up, an unbearable and unforgiving heat beating across your face as you watched the vines along the floor begin to dance along the embers. Everything really was connected, and you could only hope this didn’t hurt Will more than it had to.

“C’mon, go!” Steve pulled you along by the wrist, only letting go once he was certain your feet would follow, as he pushed his way to lead the group once more, “This way!”

Unfortunately for you, you were running just behind Mike when he took a tumble — a thick vine wrapping around his ankle and slowly dragging him across the floor — causing you to trip right over him, your own ankle rolling under your weight as you failed to catch yourself on the sharp walls of the tunnel.

Mike’s screaming caught the attention of the group as you tried to drag yourself toward the thick vine, unable to untangle it as it fought against you, only tightening its grip on the boy. Despite struggling to pull off your backpack, you finally managed to pull the ax that you were yet to return to Mrs. Byers and hobbled to your feet, balancing on your one good foot as you swung at the vine, cursing as you lost your balance and tumbled toward the wall.

A shrill screech seemed to emit from the vines as they curled up, releasing the boy's ankle as Steve’s bat connected with it once, twice, three times.

Lucas and Dustin pulled Mike up, a tight grip on their friend as they checked him over whilst Steve turned to you, eyes wide even under his goggles as he looked from your face to your ankle, and back again, noting your flamingo-like posture,

“You good?”

Before you could respond, a growl from behind the group stopped you all in your tracks.

A Demo-dog stood on all fours, large mouth opening, and closing as it continued its inhuman noises. Dustin watched for a moment, head cocked slightly to the right.

“Dart.”

When the monster didn’t immediately attack, seemingly checking out the boy in front of him — friend or foe? Possibly even snack — Dustin stepped forward, despite everyone pleading for him to stay where he was.

“Shh, stop. Trust me, please.”

Dustin remained eerily calm as he slowly approached the dog, the monster taking a few cautionary steps closer too, meeting him near the middle of the tunnel.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s your friend, it’s Dustin,” the boy pulled down his bandanna before lifting his goggles in hopes the monster would recognize him, “It’s Dustin, all right? You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

The monster snarled at him, revealing far too many sharp teeth for your liking, but remained in place. If it wanted to, it easily could’ve ripped Dustin apart by now. You knew that as well as the boy did. But this… thing, something about this one was different. Maybe it really was Dart, and maybe, he and Dustin had formed some kind of weird, fucked up human/alternate-dimensional-creature bond in the few days it had taken Dart to sprout four legs and a mouth full of teeth.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do. You hungry? Yeah?” Dustin reached into his backpack, pulling out what looked like a Three Musketeers bar, “I’ve got our favorite, see? Nougat.”

As Dustin opened the wrapper, the creature slowly padded toward him, much like a family dog might’ve. Once Dart began to eat, Dustin shooed the rest of you through, Steve holding you up as you hobbled alongside him.

Once everyone had passed, Dustin stood, pulling down his goggles as he moved past to follow the group, turning around as Dart did the same, “Goodbye, buddy.”

As your group rushed back looking for where the rope to safety dangled, leading back up to the surface, the whole tunnel system seemed to shift, rumbling and sending you all in different directions.

“What was that?” Max asked, turning in the direction of… roaring?

“They’re coming. Run! Run!”

Steve lifted Max up first, the girl pulling herself up the rope with no problem, quickly followed by Lucas and then Mike. Dustin was halfway up the rope, clutching to his friend's hands when you saw the first shadow of a Demo-dog on the wall.

“Harrington,” you swallowed, heart pounding against your rib cage, eyes beginning to water as you realized your fate.

“I know, I know…” Steve panicked, gripping his bat in his hands as he shouldered Dustin a little further up, “Go, c’mon, get up-”

You both knew you didn’t have enough time for the two of you to get back out to safety and somehow, Steve had continuously surprised you in these life-and-death situations — especially when it was between his life and your death — constantly putting his safety on the line. Back last year with the Demogorgon, hell, even earlier that evening at the Junkyard.

This time… This time, it was your turn.

“We’re not gonna both make it up there in time. You need to go.”

His head swiveled around so quickly, you were sure he almost gave himself whiplash, but you didn’t give him enough time to disagree as you rearranged the ax in your grip, holding it high and standing your ground despite your shaking hands, “I’m not gonna get up there quickly, it’s pointless. Just go. Please.”

Ignoring the crack of your voice, and the shouting from the kids above you, Steve shook his head, eyes darting between yourself and the incoming monsters, their roaring getting closer and closer, “No, I-”

“Go, Steve!”

“Not without you.”

Snapping your own head toward the boy, you both stood silently as the few seconds that passed felt like hours, before finally accepting your fate.

The kids would be safe. But you were doing this. You and Steve would foolishly take on a pack of Demo-dogs.

Despite Steve’s eyes flicking back to the tunnel, yours remained on him as you tried to swallow down the fear that was crawling up your throat, clutching at your vocal cords and making it impossible to speak.

The first Demo-dog rushed around the corner, but you barely saw a flash of it as you were suddenly spinning around, Steve’s chest colliding with your back as he gripped you with one hand, turning your body behind his.

When the pained cries and shouting and screaming didn’t come, your eyes peeled open, watching as the dogs ran straight past you, entering a different tunnel and paying both you and Steve no mind.

Once the echoes of their rushed feet had disappeared, the tunnel remained silent, even the kids above were in shocked silence. Blood rushed in your ears, as your body shook, the ax falling from your grip and landing by your feet.

Steve’s labored breaths pushed his chest into your back repeatedly, and you weren’t quite sure if it was your heartbeat or his that you could feel.

His grip remained tight around your waist, rubber gloved fingers digging into your skin a little too tightly to be reassuring, yet you still leaned your weight against him, head bent backward at a mildly uncomfortably angle as you pulled down your bandanna and caught your breath, trying to work out if you were actually still alive.

It was only when he tilted his own head down, resting his chin on your shoulder that you flinched away — his panting a little too loud in your ear — the previous pain from earlier that evening finally ebbing its way back now that the adrenaline was finally dissipating from your veins.

“Eleven,” Mike shouted down, “She’s doing it, she’s closing the gate. Get out of there, now.”

Neither of you needed to be told twice, and once Steve had awkwardly lifted you halfway up the rope, allowing you to place your weight onto his shoulder as the other kids had helped you crawl out of the hole, he quickly followed after you just in time to watch the headlights beam on Billy’s car, momentarily blinding you all.

And, just as it had seemed last year…

It was over.

Steve had managed to drive to Hopper’s cabin thanks to your directions as the kids huddled in the backseat. Nobody uttered a word, and the car radio remained off the entire drive. The only words you spoke were a mumbled thank you as he assisted you out of the car, tucking your arm over his shoulders, his own hand wrapping back around your waist as he helped you slowly hobble toward the cabin.

You could only pray that whatever had its hold over Will was gone, leaving the boy unscathed and that Eleven and Hopper were alive and safe.

Thankfully, you’d spotted Hopper’s Chevvy hidden where he usually parked it between the trees and found yourself all but rushing toward the safety of the cabin.

The commotion from the kids must have alerted everyone to your appearance as the group, bar Will and Eleven, stepped out onto the porch, eyebrows pinched together, confused at your sudden appearance. The plan was for you to stay at the Byers and wait. It was clear to everyone that somehow, for some reason, that plan had changed.

You felt a whimper force its way out of your lips before you even recognized the sound as your own when you caught Hopper’s gaze, the man pushing through the small crowd outside the front door, his long legs reaching you quickly.

Steve released you from his grip as soon as the larger man approached, brows still furrowed on his face as he pulled you into a tight hug,

“What the hell happened to you guys?”

It took Steve a second to realize that Hopper’s attention was now directed toward him, his dark blue eyes taking in his bruised face.

“Uh, something came up. We… We couldn’t stay at the Byers. I know we said… I promised we’d look after the kids, but-”

“Can we talk about it later?” You sighed, hoping Hopper would take pity on your tired eyes and pained limp, “Eleven and Will… are they okay?”

Hopper helped you up the porch steps, a sweet smile sent Joyce’s way as she took your face between her warm palms and placed a kiss on your forehead, “They’re fine. Exhausted but… Alive. Safe.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, the ability to finally inhale deeply causing your vision to blur a little. The plan had worked, and most of you had survived. Mike had already made his way into the cabin, grabbing at both Eleven and Will and pulling them into a tight hug, quickly followed by the rest of the kids, bar Max who hung back a little.

Joyce, however, moved her attention to the young girl, pulling her into a motherly hug, “Whatever you kids did tonight… Thank you.”

“Can we, uh… Clean up a little?” you turned toward Hopper, nodding toward the bathroom, knowing there was a first aid kit stashed in the medicine cabinet.

Hopper’s gaze switched between you and Steve before sending the latter a slight glare, despite his nod, “Head on through, do you want me to-”

“It’s fine, Hop. We won’t be long,” you sighed, trying to put as little weight onto your ankle as possible as you shuffled Steve into the too-small bathroom.

Once the folding door was shut, shutting out the quiet mumbles from the group, you let out a long, exasperated sigh, leaning on the door whilst Steve was already looking through the cabinet, pulling out the small box.

“Do you want to-”

“No, no… You sit down, I don’t think that ankle is gonna handle any more pressure on it tonight.” Steve interrupted, motioning for you to sit on the closed toilet as he nosed through the first aid supplies.

Finding some ointment for bruising and a clean cloth, Steve ran the tap until the water was warm, ringing out the excess water before standing in front of you, hesitating.

“Do you, uh-”

“I can’t exactly see the back of my head, Harrington.”

Nodding, Steve placed the cloth against the back of your head, a mumbled apology falling from his lips when you hissed in pain.

“Billy, he uh… He didn’t-”

“Billy didn’t touch me,” you sighed, “not really, anyway. Shoved me away from Lucas and I hit my head on the counter.”

An unintelligible grumble fell from Steve’s lips, his eyebrows almost connecting as he frowned, only deepening as you continued to speak, “I must say though, Harrington. I’m pleasantly surprised. You got in, what? At least three hits before-”

“Before he blindsided me by hitting me in the head with a plate?” Steve huffed, pulling away the cloth and rinsing it when he found only dried blood. He took a second to look over the wound, unsure as to what he was really even looking for.

“I mean, it’s Billy. Do you really expect him to play fair?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve groaned slightly as he bent down, resting on his knees as he lifted your ankle. After taking off your sneakers and socks, then rolling up your jeans a little, he turned your ankle cautiously as he inspected it. The skin had already begun to swell, and a deep red bruise was blossoming along the outer side of your heel,

“You really need to ice and rest this,” Steve placed the cold cloth against the skin and held it there, continuing to scrutinize your injury.

A small huff fell from your lips as you sent the top of his head a smirk, “Where did you get your Ph.D. from again?”

“I play sports,” Steve’s eyes met yours, an annoyed, but innocuous glare settling across his face as he peered up at you, “I’ve rolled my ankle enough times in Basketball to know how to deal with it.”

A high, mocking tune rumbled in your throat as you cocked a brow, “My bad, Harrington. Didn’t know you liked to play Doctors and Nurses in your spare time.”

“Why do you do that?” He interrupted thumb subconsciously grazing the part of your skin that the cloth didn’t reach.

Your face scrunched slightly, feeling a little too defensive already, “Do what?”

His shoulders slumped as a long sigh escaped his nose, but his eyes remained focused on you, “You know, I think tonight, when you were convincing me to follow those little assholes into the pits of Hell… I think that was the first time I’ve heard you actually call me by my name.”

“I call you it all the time-”

“No,” he interrupted once more, the line between his brows emerging once again as he tried to stress his point, “You call me Harrington all the time. Normally with a glare, but still…”

You remained silent for a moment, wondering if you did, indeed, do that, “Does it matter?”

“I mean, it makes you sound like you’re always mad at me-”

“I am normally mad at you,” you joked, but your smile slipped from your face just as quickly as it had appeared when his expression didn’t change, “I don’t know why I do it, alright? I do it to everyone, I guess…”

“I just…” Steve sighed, the hand that was holding the cloth to your ankle moved to push his hair back from his forehead before quickly reattaching itself to you, as if he needed to anchor himself to something to get his thoughts out, “I like it when you call me Steve. Makes me feel like we’re, you know… Friends.”

You watched as he shrugged, his throat bobbing as he tore his eyes away from you in what you could only assume was embarrassment.

Because even after everything you went through together almost a year ago, even after he saved your life… you weren’t friends. But now?

“Seems like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Steve’s eyes returned to yours, confusion etched on his face as you sighed and sat up straighter, your body a little closer to him, “We are friends. I mean, you saved my life twice in one year. It would be kinda rude not to be, right?”

A small puff of air forced itself from his chest as he sent you a small smile, “Third time’s the charm,”

“Oh my god, why would you even say that?” You laughed back, mouth agape in faux offense, “But, I suppose I could… try and reserve last names for when I’m actually mad-”

“It would save me a lot of confusion.”

You shared a small, almost silent laugh, his eyes boring into you, seeming much darker in Hopper's dodgy bathroom lightening, Steve’s thumb still subconsciously skimming over your ankle as you both reveled in the quiet, the voices in the lounge were low and muffled slightly, so when the folding door was swiftly yanked open, nearly sending the boy into your lap, you both jumped out of your skin, your wide eyes narrowing into a glower as you stared down the man on the other side of the door,

“You kids need some help in here? Been long enough I thought you’d got lost.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled back against the tank of the toilet with a sigh, “Waiting times in the ER are outrageous. I’ll tell my doctor to hurry it up.”

Steve cleared his throat, discomfort written on his face as he sent Hopper an almost pained smile, unable to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds, “Almost done. Promise.”

You watched Hopper as he watched Steve — the boy suddenly finding the bare wooden floorboards beneath him a little too fascinating — his eyes flitting to you for just a moment before settling back on the boy, “Yeah, well, speed it up, alright? I need to take a leak.”

“Hop,” you heard Joyce warn, pulling the man’s attention for just a moment. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as if he were deep in thought, before he finally conceded, pulling the door across once more, but not shutting it fully.

Steve quickly poured the Arnica ointment onto some toilet paper before gently dabbing it onto your ankle, brows furrowed in concentration “We really should speed things up.”

“Ignore him. He’s just… weird.”

Steve sent you a quirked brow, all too aware that you didn’t bother to lower your voice and that the possibility of Hopper hearing you was high.

“You’re pretty close, huh?”

“He, uh… He dated my Mom. Hung around for a while and never really left, even when they broke up.”

“That’s nice.”

Shrugging, you peered through the gap in the door, eyes finding the man across the room talking quietly with Joyce for a moment before disappearing from your obstructed view, “I guess so. I don’t really see eye to eye with my Mom. I mean, I know what people say about her, about my family, but Hopper, he just… He never cared about all that stuff. I, uh… I cried myself to sleep the night they broke up. I mean, I’d seen guys come and go for years, I was used to it, and I just kind of thought he’d disappear like everyone else. Cross the street when he saw me, duck his head when he saw me in the same aisle at Big Buy… But he just… didn’t, you know? It wouldn’t have ever lasted with my Mom, but he’s been there for me more than anyone. Especially my own dad. I owe him a lot.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way.”

Steve’s comment caught you off-guard slightly. You’d heard all the gross accusations that high schoolers had thrown your way. That Hopper had left your mother for you, that he was your real dad and everything in between. You had thought for so long that he had simply hung around because he felt guilty. Then, you’d heard that he had a daughter, Sara, who had passed away in New York, and you thought that maybe his protectiveness over you was down to grief. That he was trying to make you fit into a Sara-shaped hole.

But Hopper, despite all of his flaws — and he had plenty — was simply a good man.

Sending your sudden tension, Steve scrambled to continue, “I mean, I don’t think he thinks you owe him anything. He seems like a decent guy-”

“He is,” you cut Steve off. Your chest felt heavy and tight as if your body was desperate for the conversation to finish before you burst into tears and embarrassed the both of you.

“All done,” Steve smiled, placing the toilet paper into the sink to be flushed later. He placed your ankle gently on the floor after rolling back down your pant leg and pulling on your sock, “I wouldn’t even try the sneakers, but you do need to ice it.”

Holding out a hand, Steve pulled you up, your bodies a little too close in the cramped bathroom, “We should-”

“Sit your ass down, Steve,” you wanted to pat yourself on the back for remembering, “It’s your turn.”

Eventually, you and Steve emerged from the bathroom, one arm slung over his shoulder as he guided you back into the lounge, Hopper quickly moved from where he was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom and took over, walking you back to his armchair whilst Steve quietly argued — and lost — with Joyce as she tried to give up her own chair, eventually reassuring him that she was going to check on Will, who was resting on Hopper’s fold up bed across the room.

When the once cold can of beer pressed against your ankle had warmed to room temperature, and the box of ‘Eggo’s’ Steve had held against his bruised face had turned soggy, the boy finally pushed himself up, clearing his throat, “I, uh… I should get going.”

You’d explained most of your evening to the group, leaving out that Hargrove had been the cause of your own injuries, and Hopper had told Steve that Billy would find himself on the receiving end of a few extra speeding tickets since the former didn’t want to press charges, and by now, everyone was visibly exhausted. It had been a very long weekend.

“Can I catch a ride?” You asked, already pushing yourself up off the armchair to follow.

Steve nodded and extended the offer, eventually driving you, Max, Lucas, and Dustin out of there. He’d have to drop Billy’s car back before anyone became suspicious, but he’d just waved a hand at you when you’d offered to drive the Camero back after picking up his own car, telling you he would simply walk home and collect it from the woods where he’d left it with yourself and Dustin at the beginning of your hunt for Dart.

Despite Hopper offering to stay at his for the night, you declined. You just wanted to crawl into your own bed and not emerge for a couple of days, despite knowing it was the beginning of another school week. So, after Jim had made you promise to radio him if there was any issue, he begrudgingly sent you off into the night with Steve.

The excitement seemed all too much for the kids, each one falling asleep before Steve had even passed back by Merrill’s farm. His voice was gentle as he woke them up, bar when he gave Dustin a shove, the boy snoring obnoxiously loud as he spread out across the backseat, the last to be dropped home.

Once the boy was safely inside his house, Steve sighed and pulled away, ready to make his way to your house. He could've easily dropped you home first and left Max to last, but the both of you remained quiet as he drove past the long, winding road that would've led to your street. His eyes were red-rimmed and heavy, and he cursed each time his hand subconsciously rubbed at them after he'd pulled over outside of your home.

You hesitated for a moment — your hand ready to open the door — unsure of what to say. So instead, you let out a long sigh and turned in the boy’s direction, “Get home safe, okay?”

Steve nodded, “Want me to walk you to the door? You really shouldn’t be putting weight on that-”

“-After everything that’s happened tonight, if I get murdered between this car, and my front door, then so be it,” you joked, a small smile on your face as Steve tiredly returned it.

Steve’s mouth opened, ready to retort, but instead remained hanging wide as you shuffled across the seat, pulling him into an awkward but quick one-armed hug, “Thanks again, Steve. And I’m sorry for, you know… dragging you along to the tunnels.”

Clearing his throat, Steve sent you a firm nod, “No, it’s… I get it, you know? I mean, either way, we kept the kids safe, right?”

“Right…”

“We make a pretty good team,” a puff of laughter fell from Steve’s lips. The irony wasn’t lost on the boy. 12 months ago, Steve wouldn’t have given you the time of day. You both knew that. Hell, you were certain he wouldn’t be able to pick you out from a lineup full of new students that he’d never met, despite the fact Hawkins only had one high school.

“Yeah, I guess we do. Goodnight, Steve.”

You shuffled out of the car ungracefully, and Steve watched with a wince, forcing himself to remain seated as you hobbled your way up the creaky, decayed porch steps and eventually into your home.

Only once you were tucked away safely in your house, bedroom light flicking on a moment later, did Steve finally drive away.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

34 notes · View notes

never-gonna-danse-again · 2 months

Text

favourite DCR songs

Because here, we think about the important stuff.

(fyi these are for the base game permanent companions, but if you want to hear about any others let me know :)

Cait: Whole Lotta Shaking Goin' On

I can't actually think of a reason she'd like this it just speaks to me. You can't deny that Big Maybelle would start playing and you'd suddenly look over to see her having a tiny dance and humming along. At higher affinity she's ask you to sing with her; a true honour

Codsworth : Way Back Home

Let's be real, Codsworth is a robot made to serve who has been stuck in the same house for two hundred years, all alone. When Sole starts bringing people back to Sanctuary and renovating the whole town, it was the best thing that had happened to him since pre-war life. He can help people, he can fulfil his duty as a Mr. Handy, and this song lets him reflect on how far he's come

Curie: Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

She loves Ella Fitzgerald's voice, deeming her an angel (in a french accent, this will sound cute idk) and always asks questions to Sole about how they played the instruments, an art that has since become almost extinct after the war. Sole promises one day they'll try and find a guitar and learn the song for her

Danse: One More Tomorrow

This was him and Cutler's song. Back in Rivet City, they shared a flat somewhere in the complex, and they found a record left behind from the previous owner (one of the tiny ones with like two songs on). Other than the Muddy Rudder, there wasn't too much to do, so One More Tomorrow was often played on repeat. Cutler taught him how to dance to this song, and it remains as his favourite because it helps him remember how he used to laugh and smile back when they were younger

Deacon: Sixty Minute Man

100% hears this song come on the radio and proceeds to give Sole the most childish side eye known to man. He knows full well what the songs is about, but always manages to put some stupid spin on the lyrics and has danced his way away from a super mutant suicider to it.

Hancock: I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

One of the few memories he still recalls from his childhood is him and his mother playing while this songs plays somewhere in the background; it makes him feel happy, though after so much chem abuse, he can't really understand why. He doesn't remember her face, but always imagines her voice singing along with him to every line.

MacCready: The Wanderer

Absolutely vibes with it, and though he hasn't been around with as many women as the song details, he's been roaming the wastes all his life. He's not quite ready to settle down because he's still trying to recover from Lucy's loss, and The Wanderer speaks to him and his nomadic spirit, letting him know it's okay that things turned out this way.

Valentine: The End of the World

one of his pre-war favourites inherited from his namesake, who attended ballroom dances with Jennifer every Tuesday evening; they loved the slow sway of this song, and even now Nick can't seem to shake the urge to turn it right up from Sole's Pip-Boy whenever it comes on. Can be heard humming it if you listen closely enough in Sanctuary

Piper: Personality

She's always been a great judge of character, even since she was a girl, so understandably, personality's pretty important to her. Her and Deacon duet it while travelling/ in a bar and have gotten surprisingly good at harmonies; Shaun's been trying to fix up an old karaoke machine for them so they can grace the whole of Sanctuary with a personal concert.

Preston: Good Rockin' Tonight

his old Minutemen buddies made a whole routine to this song after he told them he liked it; there's a lot of sentimentality attached to it for him, and doesn't hesitate to make new drunken mistakes to the song, if not just for them.

Strong: Butcher Pete

Strong likes Butcher Pete because he eats people. Butcher Pete is one of his number one idols because of this fact

X6: he claims to hate the station and insists that he much prefers the Classical Station, but really, he secretly loves Pistol Packin' Mama. How does Sole figure this out? They walk in to see him bobbing his head along with the music and singing the odd chorus while he mods his rifle. Most embarrassing moment of his life, but hilarious for the rest of Sanctuary.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 companions #deacon fallout 4 #nick valentine #fo4 maccready #x6 88 #fallout x6 88 #cait fallout 4 #sillys #diamond city radio #travis fallout 4 #i haven't seen one of these before #i did not take into mind the canon music preferences but ah well

35 notes · View notes

nana-mania · 1 year

Text

“SPOILED” he loves being spoiled by his rich girlfriend

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : izana kurokawa

࿐*ೃ fandom : tokyo revengers

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

࿐*ೃ tw : cursing

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ "IS IT JUST me or has Izana been acting odd lately?"

Kakucho spoke up, breaking the silence between him and the Brutal Generation, as well as the executives of Tenjiku. He was unable to contain his curiosity much longer. He pondered in his mind all the time; whether the others noticed this subtle change in Izana.

"Izana has always been unhinged, Kakucho. Since when he's not acting odd?" Ran casually remarked, finding his question strange. "You know him personally much more than we do. Surely, we can't give you any answers even if you demand one from us." Rindou added.

"What's so odd about Izana anyway?" Shion asked, his brain still trying its hardest to discern the meaning behind Kakucho's inquiry. "If you are talking about how he has been hanging out a lot on his own, I personally don't think it's strange." Kanji stated whilst he munched on a mochi.

"You know him. He doesn't like it when we question his actions." Muto advised, patting the younger male's broad back to reassure him. "I know, but...ahh, there is just something off about him. I can't get it out of my mind unless I figure it out." Kakucho argued, persistently staying true to himself.

"My gut feeling is too strong for me to ignore it... Alright, that's it. I'm going out to check on Izana. He went out to the city again today. You guys wanna tag along?" Kakucho offered invitation to the rest of the executives. Shion, Kanji and Muto were unsure. They didn't want to dig their own grave.

But the two Haitanis thought otherwise. They were thrilled by the idea of spying on Izana during his casual stroll in the city. They might discover something unbelievable.

"We are coming along~" Ran agreed to Kakucho's invitation, his hand resting on top of Rindou's head. Rindou wore a wide grin on his face, excited by the adventure they were about to experience. It could be a death wish but who cares! Life wasn't fun without taking risk.

Seeing two of them agreeing to this maniacal, suicide-borderline plan, Kanji, Shion and Muto sighed defeatedly and eventually agreed to Kakucho as well. Delighted by their cooperation, he smiled at the older males happily.

"Alright, let's go now!"

Meanwhile, in the city, Izana was strolling in a clothing store with you, browsing the various clothes and shoes sold in the store in complete silence. There was no way he would want to buy them as most the stuffs he wanted was overpriced.

His amethyst-hued eyes suddenly landed on a pair of shoes. He stared long at the said shoes, as if he was attracted to them. He was unaware of how long he was fixing his gaze at the footwear. Noticing his behavior, you smiled at him and picked up the shoes he secretly wished to have.

Shocked by your action, Izana looked at you in disbelief. "No, not again." He opposed your idea. He knew you too well; you were planning to buy the shoes for him. But you shook your head and brought the shoes along as you and your boyfriend made your way to the store clerk.

"Yes, again. I told you, just buy anything you want. I can pay for the goods."

"You're always spoiling me."

"And I love doing that. Especially spoiling you."

Izan smiled softly at you, his one and only girlfriend. To be honest, he didn't know you were from a wealthy family until he went on a first date with you. It was astonishing to figure out this interesting fact about you.

Izana reached out his hand and held your hand warmly. "That's why I love you so much, mahal." He whispered seductively into your ear, tightening his hold on your hand. Your cheeks heated up upon hearing his attractive voice. God, you always had a thing for voice. Hearing a sexy voice like his made you weak in the knees. "I love you too, sweetie."

You paid for the shoes much to Izana's happiness. He never, never even once asked you to spoil him with your wealth. You willingly did it for him and he appreciated it so much. Even though he couldn't buy any expensive gifts like you did, you adored every single thing he did or give to you as presents.

You weren't a picky and judgmental girl.

"So, where should we go now?"

"Mahal, I'm hungry. Can we stop by KFC?"

"Sure! And you better keep your wallet in your pocket. Today's date is on me."

"But..."

"No buts. I invited you to the date so I have the rights to spoil you."

Izana chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You were persistently stubborn when it came to this topic. It was no surprise to know you hated being the spoiled one during date. Only on rare occasion, you would let him pay during the date.

"If you say so, mahal." Izana leaned in to kiss your forehead. Your face went ablaze, delighted by his soft kiss. That was right, this was what you wanted. Receiving rewards in the form of physical touched everytime you spoiled him. Izana was the best when it came to showing love through physical touch.

Hooking your arm with his, you and Izana walked out of the clothing store as he flirted with you, effortlessly causing warmth to spread across your cheeks.

"After this...wanna come over to my place to chill, mahal?" Izana whispered flirtatiously into your ear. You could practically hear the smirk in his teasing voice as his arm found its way to snake around your waist. "I love to reward you for all the treats and spoiling...you deserve so much from me."

"Eager much, aren't you? I'm always up for it. I love to be spoiled by you later."

"Thought you hated being coddled by me, mahal."

"Your "spoiling" is different and that's why I love it."

The warmth in your cheeks kept rising up. You could never stop flirting with Izana when he started making his move. He would continue whispering sweet nothings until you overheated.

Unbeknownst to the couple, a group of curious delinquents were spying on them with the youngest having his jaw dropped to the ground in disbelief.

"I-Izana...since when did he— has a partner?" Kakucho gasped, his mouth agape wide open. Shion, Muto, Kanji, Ran and Rindou were left speechless as well. Izana, never once, showed the slightest bit interest in relationship considering that man hated "troublesome burden". Hence, seeing him all sweet with a girl was a miracle. This fact might take a while to be embedded into their brain.

"Let's go follow them. I need to confirm again—"

Much to Kakucho's misfortune, Rindou unintentionally slipped and brutally pushed Kakucho out of their hiding spot. Due to panic, all of them left the alleyway to help Kakucho and Rindou to get back on their feet.

Of course, this led to their downfall.

Thanked to the chaos, Izana and you were drawn to take a look. The Tenjiku leader was displeased to find his executives all hoarded together. He figured out right away that they were spying on him.

"You know them?" You asked, curious of his sudden change of facial expression. You were still linking your arm with his. Izana's face scrunched with irritation, aggravated by their rude interruption. You knew Izana was involved in gang activities but you had never found out that he was the leader of his own gang.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?!" Izana yelled at his exeuctives. His roaring voice sent shivers down to their spine. He untangled his arm from your hold, dangerously walking toward the other elite delinquents of his gang. Shion was on the verge of tears, fearing for his life and safety.

"S-Shit, run! RUN! FUCKING RUN!!" Shion, being the most coward among all of them, made a run from Izana's wrath. Izana ignored the others as they were already frozen on their spots so he began chasing after Shion, catching up with his speed easily.

"Wait, you fucker! I'm gonna fucking kill you for interrupting my date!!"

The small chaos somehow turned into a big calamity as Shion, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Muto and Kanji now needed to face Izana's rage.

While you just stood there all confused but enjoyed the evening drama nonetheless.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this short scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #izana kurokawa #izana kurokawa fluff #kurokawa izana #izana x reader #fem reader #izana kurokawa x you #izana kurokawa x fem reader #tokyorev #tokyo revengers oneshot #izana kurokawa oneshot

214 notes · View notes

xxlady-lunaxx · 5 months

Text

What did I do..? | {KokuZan}

Theme: Angst

Note: Ignore the picture i can't find any kokuzan ones ;-;

TW: suicide-

ALSO if anything doesn't make sense it's bc i was too lazy to write out the AU so, sorry..

Reincarnated everyone! (basically it's modern AU; reincarnated hhahahoksmvfewoifkmsssddddffffffffuck.)

As a child, Muzan was very easily manipulated. He believed everyone deserved second chances and said, whenever someone did something they shouldn't have—no matter how drastic the consequences—that everybody made mistakes. Which, as you can see, is quite a naïve way of thinking when it comes to reality.

What's more, Muzan tried to be very helpful. No matter what anyone asked, it was almost guarenteed to be that he would say yes.

You could ask him to do the most far-fetched thing that any sane person would say they couldn't do and he would most likely say, "I'll do my best to achieve that for you."

So, he was often—very often—asked to do things for others. And he let them, not seeing anything bad about it. He only saw that he was making it easier for others to live and so he continued on doing this.

The only exception to his agreeing was his friend—more specifically Michikatsu, Douma, Akaza, Hantengu and his many brothers, Gyokko, Gyutaro, Daki, Nakime and Kaigaku. They were the some of the only people who cared—truly—about Muzan and who constantly protected him as much as they could from people who tried to use him to their own will.

Muzan didn't notice any of this though. But he did know that they were people who would stick by him no matter what—something he was absolutely grateful for and told them everyday.

Michikatsu—also known as Kokushibo within their circle of friends—being the eldest always treated all of them as his younger siblings, telling them to do this and that and making sure they were intact and alright.

All but Muzan whom he treated more as a very close 'friend.'

Everybody else could clearly see the favortism written all over Muzan's face whenever Kokushibo was around, and they let it be.

Muzan didn't notice that either, however.

Now, as the time went on, things began to change.

True, Muzan had never been in the center of attention for selfless reasons and had always only been because people wanted to take advantage of him, but now a rumour had started passing by and Muzan started getting dirty looks from people he didn't even know.

Muzan grew scared to be outside at all as someone would hiss at him that he was a horrible man, that he'd done nothing but bad.

He didn't understand.

And neither did his friends because they had never known Muzan to do anything bad.

One day, one particular person had gone up to Muzan. She looked stern and very mad, dragging two other women with her.

"Do you remember me, Kibutsuji?" she said, glaring into his eyes. She was shorter than him, looking to be almost 5 feet whilst Muzan was at 5"6 at around the age of 16.

"No...?" he said uncertainly.

The girl then made one of the other people stand in front of him. They looked to be siblings, this new woman appeared to be older. She had pink eyes that Muzan decided would probably looking pretty if it weren't for the fact that she was looking at him as if he was going to kill her.

"What about her? Do you remember her? This is my sister Kanae," the first girl said, peeking from around Kanae's shoulder. "You and your little Uppermoon friends killed her."

Muzan looked around for some help but his friends were out somewhere and all around them were only people whispering and glaring at him. "She's alive though..." he pointed out, averting his eyes. What were they talking about?

"Oh really," the girl said. "Listen, both of us were Hashira in our past lives. Both of us died from the same demon. From the same demon you created. You had millions of people killed just so you could be immortal!!" She placed a hand on her hip, her eyes searing into his head. "You are a monster. You deserve to go to hell."

The last girl who hadn't been been introduced was fidgeting with a coin, but at this she slipped around the other two and said, her voice both equally quiet and angry, "I hope you life is it's own hell for all you ever did to all of us."

Muzan backed away against the wall. "I didn't do that! I... don't know what you're talking about! I swear! You have got me mixed up!!" he said, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. He'd only ever helped people! What did they mean?

"Hmm, maybe you've got it all mixed up," the first girl said, letting her hair down and showing him her clip which was in the shape of a butterfly. "Look at this. And go find your blond friend—Douma. Tell him if butterflies have any sort of significance to him. I'm sure they do because you turned him into a demon. And then you let him go and eat so, so many humans. The butterfly should be a reminder to him of who killed him."

Muzan blinked. "Douma? Douma would never do that! He's very kind!" he insisted, crossing his arms. They could talk bad about him all they wanted but now about his friends!!

"Hmm, kind? Not a word I think of when I think of him. But maybe he was. Maybe he was kind and you turned him to the opposite," the girl said, giving him a cruel smile before stalking away, her hands clasped around the two other girls'.

The whispers around him grew and someone shouted, "I heard he was a cannibal!!"

Muzan shook his head. "I wasn't! I'm not!"

"My grandfather said his mother's father's mother had fought one of his demons!"

"I don't have demons," Muzan pleaded.

"I heard he called himself a demon king," someone else said.

The people seemed to rise up all at once, shouting incoherent threats to him.

They closed in on him and Muzan cowered, feeling terrified. What if he had done all of that? People were to be trusted and he knew that they wouldn't lie about this, right? They must be telling the truth... What if he was such a horrible person after all?

A hand clasped around his wrist and he looked up, dread filling him for a split second. But then Kokushibo's familiar face met his gaze and he stood, being dragged out of the crowd quickly.

"Muzan!!" Kokushibo called back between quick breaths as they ran off. "Are you okay?"

Muzan thought for a moment as they ran and didn't answer until they stop. "Do you think I'm a horrible person like they said I am?" he asked, his voice meek.

Kokushibo narrowed his eyes. "Do I think?" he asked, sounding furious.

Muzan closed his eyes, scared of a reaction. He'd never felt so small before.

"Of course I don't!! You're my best friend! You would never do all that shit!" Kokushibo said.

Muzan opened his eyes to see his friend looking worried and exasperated. "You... don't think so?"

"No!! And even if all what they said is true, it's definitely not about you. They probably got the wrong person." Kokushibo sighed, hugging him tightly. "You worry me, Muzan. Maybe you should just stay at home."

Muzan's cheeks flushed at the physical contact—lately, something about Michikatsu had been making him quite... happy. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice muffled by Kokushibo's shoulder.

"Anytime. Want to go to the library? No one's allowed to shout there so we can have some peace and quiet," Kokushibo said, grinning.

Muzan nodded. "Okay."

~~~

At the library, Kokushibo started roaming the shelves looking for books he might want to read.

Muzan, on the other hand, couldn't get his mind over what had happened earlier. About everyone shouting at him, that is. Not with... with Kokushibo.

He immediately shook his head. No thinking about that now.

He searched through the rows of books until he saw the sign titled, "History."

Here he might find some answers. If he'd done something like this before and had caused people to react like that there must be even a little information about it somewhere here.

After searching through the books, finding a lot of things about everything he didn't want to know about, he found a book with a paper taped onto it that said, in hastily written letters, "May be proclaimed as History and not Historical Fiction." which was interesting enough for Muzan and he quickly took out the book.

He sat down on the floor, not really caring about anything, as he opened the book.

On the spine of the book cover, there were the words, "Demon Slayer" on it, along with the name of the author. (Koyoharu Gotouge?!)

There was a little information over the book and how it was supposedly written based off the character 'Tanjiro' who had actually been real but how the editor had said it must've been simply fiction. It said other things about the author as well that Muzan decided to simply ignore.

He opened the first page, noting that it was a chapter book—quite large as well. He flipped through a couple pages, stopping quite suddenly when he saw a picture somewhere. He went back and nearly gasped as the picture was of a man that looked... almost exactly like him. There were words under it saying it was an illustration of... Muzan Kibutsuji.

He turned his gaze to the words and skimmed the page in a panic.

And there he was, Muzan Kibutsuji. It had to be him. His scent was overly powering and bringing in a deep aura that made me shake from deep in my bones. I lunged forward, grabbing his arm as I shouted, "Muzan Kibutsuji!"

Muzan turned around and his piercing red eyes glared at me for half a second. But then he turned fully and I saw he was carrying a child. A little girl. A human girl. "Dear? What's this about?" a woman asked, a hand on Muzan's shoulder as she peeked around him.

Two humans. They were both humans, I just knew it. But he... he was a demon. There was no mistakening the smell he had, was he... He was hiding amongst the humans.

(Ermmmm pretend this is the part of Asakusa when Tanjiro first meets Muzan LMAO- I didn't know how to write it since kny is a manga :'>)

Muzan's eyes lingered on his name for a minute. He was real, no? This was real.

He skipped more pages towards the end and saw his name again. In this part, he appeared to be fighting the Main Character and the people named 'Hashira.'

Hashira.

Wasn't that what the girl from earlier had said?

Standing suddenly, Muzan held the book tightly to his chest and walked as quickly as he could, his eyes searching for Kokushibo.

When he found him, he said, his voice low and scared, "Koku... I'm a villain."

Kokushibo gave him a perplexed look as Muzan handed him the book. "What? Please don't tell me the people's words have gotten into your head. You're not a villain, you're-"

Muzan didn't necessarily know if he wanted to know the end of the sentence or not and his cheeks flushed as he said hurridly, "Just read some of this."

Kokushibo opened the book at random, still looking confused. He looked down at the page and read a couple words before he looked up at Muzan, his eyes wide. "No, uhm. I'm sure it's just a coincidence it's your name," he said, looking very much concerned.

"It's not!! It's me! There are some pictures in this as well, see?" Muzan said, flipping a couple pages and pointing to a picture of himself transforming into what appeared to be him as a child into an adult. "It's me."

Kokushibo stared at it for a long while, then said, "Oh."

"It's me," he repeated. "Koku... everything anyone had said is true. It's all true. I'm... a monster."

Kokushibo looked up at that, putting the book aside. "Listen, you're not a monster, okay? You're Muzan, the boy who helps everyone even when he shouldn't! You're everything but what they've said. You're not whatever this book is lying about," he insisted, his hands clasped around Muzan's shoulders.

"But I-"

"I won't accept any 'but's' when they're not true at all!" Kokushibo interrupted. "Now, clearly the library isn't where we should be. We can go home now, I'll make you some food."

~~~

Muzan's eyes traced Kokushibo's actions as he cooked. He wondered what it would be like for his friend to cook for him as a boyfrie-

No, no, they could never date. Not when Kokushibo was already getting enough hate as it was.

Muzan sighed, leaning his head on his arms.

"You alright?" Kokushibo asked, placing a bowl of ramen on the table.

"I'm fine," Muzan mumbled, picking up the spoon he was handed. "Thanks."

Kokushibo nodded and sat across from him.

They ate in silence for a while, both consumed in their thoughts.

As Muzan ate, he stared at the noodles in his bowl intently. He wondered if anything would be as it used to be again. He really wished it could be. He really hated this. Hated it too much and wanted to badly for it to be over. Not for himself, no that would be selfish of him, rather for his friends. And his family. He knew it wasn't easy for them either, constantly trying to help him when they should just let him die. It wasn't like he'd been a good person anyways. He had been horrible. He'd killed so many people just so he could be immortal? Wow.

The door opened suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Kaigaku strode in followed by Gyutaro, both looking rather beaten up but wearing triumphant smiles on their faces.

Kokushibo and Muzan stood at the same time and rushed over to them, concerned.

"What happened?" Kokushibo asked as Kaigaku batted his worried hand away.

"Nothing, nothing. We were only teaching some people talking bad about Muzan here a lesson," Kaigaku said, swerving around them and plopping onto Muzan's chair. "Hey, you finishing this? Can I have it? I'm starving."

Muzan nodded slowly, losing his appetite. "You shouldn't be getting into fights deliberately..." he fussed. "Especially for me."

Gyutaro waved him off. "It's fine, they're liars anyways," he said, grinning and stealing Kokushibo's bowl, grabbing a new spoon.

"Hey, that's mine!!" Kokushibo whined.

"They're not liars," Muzan mumbled as Kokushibo went to chase Gyutaro.

The other three froze and stared at him. "What?" they asked, almost simutaneously.

"They're not liars," he repeated. "It's all true, all what they said."

Kaigaku raised an eyebrow. "Is this your attempt to convince us that we shouldn't be friends with you because it'll cause trouble for us?" he asked, his spoon raised half way to his mouth.

Actually, that was what he was trying to do.

Muzan hesitated.

Kaigaku sighed, dropping his spoon and splashing some of the soup onto the table. "Drop that, it's seriously annoying. And you'd have to kill me to make me stop being your friend," he said.

The word kill reverberated(?..) in Muzan's mind and he flinched. "But that's just it! I killed so many people in my past."

Gyutaro gave him a look. "They're lying."

"They're not," Muzan whispered. He looked up, his eyes glazing over the worried faces of his friends. They didn't deserve having to deal with im. They deserved better. "You guys can go home... Take the food if you want. I'll see you later," he said, basically dismissing them.

Fuck, if he was going to be that rude he was better off dead anyways.

Muzan didn't miss the way they looked at each other with worried gazes before nodding and getting ready to leave.

Gyutaro and Kaigaku filed out the door but Kokushibo stayed back.

"Hey, uhm... Please don't do anything reckless, Muzan. If you need to speak to someone, I'm only one call away. I'll be here if you need me to be," he murmured, hugging Muzan tightly before closing the front door behind him.

And then Muzan was alone, feeling like he could feel the imprint of Kokushibo's arms around him still. He wished Kokushibo hadn't left. But it was better if he had, really.

Making up his mind, Muzan went up to his room and got his notebook and a pencil.

He wrote down quickly, writing a letter to each of his friends and his family. Once he finished, he read them all through, making sure that he hadn't made any mistakes and that he'd listed enough things to show that he did appreciate every little part of them.

He signed them all and folded them up into makeshift envelopes, taping them all shut.

He went and slumped onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow. He would deliver them tomorrow.

~~~

The next day, as he'd promised himself, he went to his friend's houses, handing them the letter and telling them to read it in a few days time—his birthday, actually.

They didn't really think much of it, especially since Kokushibo was the only one who knew his birthday and he probably didn't remember anyways.

Muzan wouldn't have minded that, after all it didn't matter whether or not Kokushibo remembered.

By the time he opened the letter, it would be too late.

~~~

The next few days passed rather quickly and Muzan found himself in a sort of daze as he continued on. He was waiting for the last day, the day he could finally let his friends live in peace.

He found his most battered clothes—deciding his better ones could be given to people who needed them. He didn't need to wear his best clothes if he would just be wasting them by dying in them.

He went out walking, ignoring all the stares he recieved. He had left a letter on his bed in case anyone bothered to look there. Solely a letter of thanks to his family—he'd already written them letters individually but he'd felt it wasn't enough.

It was early morning when he'd set out and so most people were asleep, although the occasional person was around. But when he finally arrived, the sun was already half way up.

He had to hurry, he didn't want them to read the letters before it was true.

He waded into the water, trembling at the coldness that hit his skin.

No. He had no right to be cold when he'd made people suffer before.

He clenched his teeth together and continued into the water, nearly tripping several times before he made it to the point that the water nearly reached his mouth. He held his head up high and bounded forward cautiously.

The water rose to his mouth and he could barely keep it from his nose as he started treading water, keeping himself upright.

He turned back to the town he'd grown up in, bobbing up long enough to murmur, "I'm sorry," before he closed his eyes and mouth, slipping under the water.

The cool water slipped around Muzan and he could feel it soaking into his body. He gave himself a couple seconds to change his mind before he let out a breath and opened his mouth, letting the water flow into his nose as well.

He resisted the urge to go back up, though it pained him to. He'd chosen this specifically because it would be the least messy—his body would just float out into the ocean or sink or something, and probably disintigrate eventually—and because it would still be painful to himself. He deserved more pain but he didn't know how else he'd do it since he wasn't particularily strong. Not now.

He used to be. And he deserved every form of torture he'd ensued(the fact that i don't rlly know what this word is-) over everyone... and more.

And so, as Muzan felt himself slipping out of consciousness as the water flowed into him, he thought of everyone he ever knew—whether the experiences with them were pleasant or not—and thanked them. He apologized over and over as he slipped away from the world of the living.

~~~

Kokushibo was smiling to himself as he ate his breakfast, excited for today.

"Why are you so happy?" Yoriichi asked skeptically.

He said nothing and continued eating, wondering how he might ask out Muzan.

He'd been planning for some time now and had decided, finally, to ask him out. Especially since it was Muzan's birthday.

He felt that he wanted him to have the best day today since every other day had been absolute shit. And besides, he figured Muzan would say yes. He'd noticed him blushing around him so constantly.

Yoriichi leaned on the table, looking annoyed. "By the way, are you going to open that letter Kibutsuji gave you? I heard he gave them to all of his friends," he commented, nodding to himself. "I overheard him telling you to open it today. Or are you smiling because of the letter?"

Kokushibo hadn't, in fact, opened it yet. He'd actually kinda forgotten about it in all his plans. "Right!" he said, abandoning his breakfast going back to his room.

Yoriichi sighed and watched him run upstairs. "He's in love, isn't he," he said to himself, grumbling.

Kokushibo opened the letter cautiously, noting how the paper looked a bit smudged with ink.

His eyes landed on the first words, smiling to himself as he was met with Muzan's handwriting. Willing himself to read it slowly and not only skim through it, he started down the letter, his smile wavering on his face for a while. But as he reached the middle of the paper, it slowly slipped away forming a frown in it's place. The frown deepened to a look of sheer horror and he dropped the letter as his eyes consumed the last word.

He turned abruptly and ran back down, ignoring Yoriichi's questioning looks as he harshly pulled on his shoes and ran out the door in a panic.

Yoriichi glared at him. "What now? Has he gone to confess his love to him?" he said, sighing.

He went upstairs and picked up the letter which looked a bit crumpled at the bottom. He skimmed through it then placed it on the table. "Muzan is a fucking idiot," he said, following his brother's tracks downstairs and out the door.

~~~

Kokushibo knocked furiously at Muzan's door and the fact of a devestated woman met his. She was Muzan's mother.

"Is... Muzan...?" Kokushibo whispered, dread swimming in his stomach.

She looked down. "He's... I think he left home early. He left a note on his bed... And he gave us each one a couple days ago," she mumbled, lifting a paper. It clearly said something different than Kokushibo's but he figured it had some sort of thanks and then apologies and then explanations as he glanced at it.

His face fell and his arms wrapped around his stomach. "He's dead?" he said, his voice coming out cracked.

Muzan's mother flinched at that but Kokushibo was too preocupied to notice. Muzan was dead.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he turned, numb inside.

Yoriichi gave the woman an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for you loss, Mrs.Kibutsuji. I'll... take my brother now," he said pulling Kokushibo away.

~~~

Kokushibo found himself in a park sitting next to Yoriichi who was glaring at the ground.

"Yorii?" he said hoarsely.

Yoriichi glanced at him. "Hm?"

"Why did he die?"

He sighed. "He was worrying too much about you, I guess."

"But why? He had only to worry about himself! He didn't have to worry about me—us—anyone but himself! He was getting the threats. He was getting all of the hate and yet... he did this for us?? He didn't say once in the whole letter that he died because he couldn't handle it for himself anymore! He said it all because he was worried about the lashback on us!! He was worried about us when he should've worried about himself!!" Kokushibo spat, glaring at the ground.

"Michi, he was a selfless fuck in this time. He used to be... otherwise, but he changed, I suppose." Yoriichi looked at his brother with a look of pity that had nothing to do with Muzan. "But he's gone and you can't change that or the reason for it."

"No!! He can't have died!!" Kokushibo looked up. "I can't let him die!" he decided, standing abruptly.

Yoriichi stood as well and his voice came out more of a command, "Kokushibo. I want you to sit down."

At the nickname—the name Michikatsu had heard most of from Muzan, he felt himself break. He sat down and Yoriichi stood in front of him with a stern look.

"He's gone and you cannot change that. You can't change the fact that he was who he was. I need you to think about it. Just accept it. I don't care how hard it will be, but you have to accept it. You'll just pain yourself more if you don't." Yoriichi's eyes were narrowed in a glare but when his brother started to cry, his gaze softened. He wrapped his arms around MIchikatsu, feeling that he couldn't bear him to cry over so dead person.

Michikatsu sobbed into Yoriichi's hug, letting himself pour out. "I was going to tell him I loved him," he said between hiccups. "I was... I was going to..."

"Shh," Yoriichi murmured, "don't talk until you're ready."

And it was quite a few minutes until he was ready, but when he was, he rubbed at his eyes and looked up at his brother.

"Today was his birthday," Michikatsu mumbled. "He... on his birthday. I'm sure he did that on purpose."

Yoriichi gave him a sympathetic look. "Perhaps he did. But we will never know. Why don't you... invite your friends over to our house? I'm sure they'll need some help through this as much as you do. Take yourselves through the process together, at least," he suggested.

Michikatsu had never known his brother to give Muzan any sort of proper acknowledgement and at that, he was surprised. But he nodded and stood, pretending not to notice all the people around them staring.

"Alright... Will you help me call them?"

Yoriichi nodded. "Of course."

~~~

Dear Koku,

Or Michikatsu? Kokushibo? What do I call you?

I always wanted to call you my lover.

I know it's quite sudden, but I really love you. I have hoped against hope that one day I could tell you. But I couldn't tell you when everybody was hating you for being my friend—and I feared their reaction if you were dating me. If you did like me, of course.

But there was a reason I said nothing, and I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable knowing I've been crushing on you for a while now though you may not like me in that way at all.

I just found myself so deeply in love with you all the time and you were most likely one of the main reasons I've been able to make it quite so far in my life.

I always loved how you were. How you act, how you talk, how you walk... everything. You were always just so beautiful to me. I'm sure others see you like this as well. How could they miss such and amazing person?

I adore you with all my heart and my being and my mind. I want to stay here with you forever but I know that would only bring pain to you for being seen with me. I know you don't want to be targetted for knowing me as much as I don't want you to be hated on because I love you.

Yes... I love you. Too much for my heart to handle sometimes. You make me so happy and I want to live so much longer with you by my side.

But I can't.

I can't live, Koku. I want you, and everyone else, to be content. If me being dead brings happiness to people, then why not give them a time to be happy?

I know how much you'd blame yourself for this though it was purely my own decision, so I need you to know that everything you've done for me has made me ever the most happiest person alive. I need you to know that you're worth everything, every breath, every smile, every little moment. So please keep living for me. Please don't blame yourself.

Make a life you can live in happiness with me gone now. Make a life you can grow up as someone known as the amazing Koku and not the Person Who Made Friends with Kibutsuji. Please be happy for... for anything you love.

You're very dear to me, and I love you, Kokushibo. I love you so, so much.

I promise to think of you till the very end.

You may not see me anymore, but I promise that I'll be watching you. I'll make sure your life goes as heavenly as possible because you are heaven. You're the greatest person to exist.

I love you, Michikatsu Tsugikuni.

I love you.

In hopes of your well being and greatest happiness, Muzan Kibutsuji.

{Word count: 4825}

I thought I had not motivation

Ig i lied to myself (my motivation always tends to come when i have to finish my hw the same day!!)

ngl this was both depressing to write and fun

and i hate it but i love it yk?

43 notes · View notes

callsign-bunnie · 4 months

Text

52 Letters To Simon Riley - Chapter 2

Week 2

The problem with grief was that even when you were distracting yourself from it, it was still there. Like a gaping bullet wound in your chest. This was… a pretty sizeable bullet wound. You could try to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away. Even stitching it up and letting it heal was ultimately useless because you still had leftover damage. You would take off your shirt, look in the mirror, and there the scar was, reminding you of what had happened. Who you had lost.

Warnings: main character death, grief, drug use, and referenced suicide, homophobia

Dear Simon,

I read in an article somewhere that going outside for even just ten minutes can help depression and grief. So, my ask of you this week is that you go outside for just ten minutes a day. Even if it’s just to stubbornly stand on your patio, glare at the outside world, and then come back inside. Just… at least ten minutes. You can set a timer, I won’t mind.

You mentioned, once, that when you’re on leave, you don’t generally go anywhere. That you lay in bed and occasionally look at your phone, but for the most part you put on shitty television for background noise and just lay in your bed and rot. I love you too much to let you just rot for me.

I know that Sometimes when we’re It’s embarrassing how nervous you make me, Simon. Even while I’m writing letters, meant for you after I’m dead… I’m so anxious, I want to impress you.

That was one of the only thoughts in my head, in Las Almas. “I wonder if Ghost thinks I’m cool.” I was trying so hard to impress you, to make you like me.

Really, I’ve always been like this. I grew up with this knowledge that there was something different about me because the minute I get around guys Fuck.

When I was younger, I pretty much always knew I was gay. I know we had this conversation, together, about how you were the same, but… bleeding hell Simon, it was bad for me. I’d get around guys I was attracted to and the only thing I cared about was getting them to like me. Sometimes, it was to my own detriment, but… most of the time, it was just embarrassing.

I’m cringing pretty damn hard just remembering what I would do.

But that’s how I felt in Las Almas. All I cared about was keeping your eyes on me, making sure you thought I was impressive. When searching for Hassan in Al Mazrah, when searching again in Las Almas… that was all I cared about.

You told me that I make you nervous, too, but… I don’t think you understand just how nervous you make me. I was so terrified that you’d think I was a loser or maybe worse. It got in the way, sometimes, but those were always the times you would show up and save my ass, so hey, maybe it worked out.

When you started to call me Johnny, I was on cloud nine. When you let me call you Simon? When you didn’t correct me? I thought I would die. Then, when we were in the safe house, Rodolfo told me something.

He told me about him and Alejandro, about the struggle they had went through before getting together, and he told me that all he’d ever wanted was for Alejandro to see him and I realized that I was wrong. I didn’t want these guys or even you to really like me, though it was nice, I wanted for you to see me. I wanted to take up space in your consciousness, I wanted you to notice me.

Now, though, now I regret it more than anything because I know what my death is going to do to you, and I know it wouldn’t have mattered if you had never saw me. I love you, and I wish you didn’t love me, because then you wouldn’t be in pain.

I’m so sorry.

Yours, forever and always,

Johnny “Soap” Mactavish

Well, for the first day, Ghost had done exactly as Soap had said he could and he’d set a timer on his phone and then sat on his balcony and waited for the timer to end, before taking his ass right back inside and going back to bed.

It had not made him feel better. In fact, because it was winter in Manchester, he was now fucking cold and miserable.

See, the problem with grief was that even when you were distracting yourself from it, it was still there. Like a gaping bullet wound in your chest. This was… a pretty sizeable bullet wound. You could try to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away. Even stitching it up and letting it heal was ultimately useless because you still had leftover damage. You would take off your shirt, look in the mirror, and there the scar was, reminding you of what had happened. Who you had lost.

For Ghost, it’d always felt like a weight in his chest, akin to being strung up by his ribs again. Except, this time, he was being held over a space, his ribs exposed and weights hanging from each bone, struggling to pull his entire rib cage out of his chest.

Sometimes, he wanted to give in and let it.

However, if he did, then he couldn’t read the rest of the letters and he’d made a promise to Johnny, even if just internally, and so he would do his best to make it through the rest of the year, just to read the letters.

The second day had been about the same, however this time Ghost’s attention had been caught by a few little kids. Well, actually, they looked like a little gaggle of 13 year olds, but one was clearly getting picked on by the others as the other four were tossing what looked like rolled up balls of paper at the kid and yelling taunting words.

Fag. Queer.

Ghost had done as he had resolved to, setting the timer on his phone and stepping outside. He hadn’t even bothered with shoes, this time, kind of wanting the cold on his feet since it might distract him a little from the gaping in his chest.

The sun was shining a bit, which honestly only pissed him off. He wanted to be miserable, couldn’t the weather get with the program and at least make it cloudy? Overcast, but bright would be most desirable as he hated that weather the most.

But, no, the sun had to be shining or whatever.

That was when he noticed the kids. Their yelling irritated him very quickly, since again, he had shit to do. All he wanted to do was sit on his fucking balcony that he needed to get replaced because holy shit this thing was wobbly, bloody hell, and grief his dead fucking boyfriend and these kids just had to come along and scream.

“Yeah, you fucking faggot! You better run from us!”

Okay, that caught Ghost’s attention real fast. He watched the kids, watching one of them who was fairly smaller than the others, sprint through the parking lot before tripping over a curb and falling with an audible thump. He didn’t recognize the kid, and he probably should considering he only had about three tenants, none of whom had children.

All five looked like they were from the nearby private school, which did have Ghost rolling his eyes a little. It was when they started to throw things at the kid, rocks and what looked like wadded up pieces of paper that Ghost decided to intervene. He wasn’t a hero in any way, but he’d been that kid once and he didn’t want anyone else ending up like him.

So, his best course of action had been to yell, “hey!” before launching himself over the balcony, landing carefully and taking off towards the kids at a brisk jog.

As soon as he started in their direction, the four bullies just about shit their pants, all going pale and turning in the other direction, frantically sprinting off. Ghost couldn’t help laughing at the sight, knowing he was probably pretty scary with his height, build, and his skull mask that he was wearing.

“Little pricks.” He grunted as he made it to the kid on the floor, who looked just as scared as they had, staring up at him with wide eyes. His eye was bruised and his knee was bleeding pretty heavily, which had Ghost wincing a little.

He’d definitely gone through worse, but he remembered the very first time he’d scraped his knee up like that, chasing Tommy around the backyard. He’d ended up tripping and slamming it right onto a rock, and he had been fairly certain it was broken. But, his father had just snorted, told him to man up, and sent him right back outside.

Ghost wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t his father. Instead, he just crouched down, hoping he could make himself as not scary as possible, and knowing he was likely failing. “What’s your name, kid?”

The kid’s eyes did not leave him, and Ghost didn’t miss the way he flinched when Ghost touched his knee to inspect over it. “D-Dean, sir…”

“Don’t bother with that sir bullshit.” Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not an authority figure, don’t worry. You busted this up pretty good, looks like it’ll scar.”

Dean winced as Ghost again touched the wound, crying out when Ghost carefully used his sleeve to wipe at some of the blood. However, it was a scrape, not a wound. A fairly big scrape, which would make a pretty rough healing process, but it wouldn’t need stitches. “Where’s your family, kid?”

Dean was quiet, his eyes watching Ghost’s hands before his face went somber. “I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” Ghost decided to help the kid stand, standing up and then hooking his hands under the kid’s shoulders and lifting him to his feet. Dean again winced when he was placed on his feet, but he seemed to stand just fine on his own, even if he was placing most of his weight on his good leg.

Dean wiped at his face and almost appeared to sniffle. “I’m um… I… I live at the boys’ home a street over.”

Ah. Another orphan, just like Soap. And Gaz. You know, for how great his country tried to seem, they sure seemed to have a lot of orphans. Whatever. Ghost frowned, before shaking his head. “Come on, I have some bandaids in the tenant office.”

Dean appeared to hesitate before nodding and so Ghost led him to the building, the kid limping behind him. When they got to the front doors, Ghost had the kid wait outside, jogging inside and getting the first aid kit before coming outside and offering it to Dean. He wasn’t going to play nurse. Dean thanked him and sat down on the curb. He was clearly experienced, as he pulled aside the torn clothing to clean the wound with an alcohol wipe before applying antiseptic and the bandaid, wincing the least with the process, somehow.

“You know what you’re doing.” Ghost acknowledged, sitting on the curb beside him and then getting out a cigarette. “I hope you don’t have asthma, kid.”

Dean shook his head, ducking his head. “I have to patch up my own wounds a lot…”

“Makes sense. Do they often target you?” Ghost asked, lighting the cigarette and then glancing at Dean, who winced. “I see. Why?”

“I don’t know… I… I…” Dean appeared to hesitate, ducking his head, and Ghost caught on. He knew that look. He knew that “the taunts and slurs are the truth, not random” look.

So, Ghost shrugged. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m gay so I won’t let them call you that. Next time they start to pick on you… lead them back to me. I don’t mind beating the shit out of a couple of punk kids.” He did, but he planned to just threaten them again with some of the military stuff he’d brought home with him.

Dean looked up at Ghost, clearly shocked. “I… I’m sorry?”

Ghost chuckled, softly, and shrugged. “I’m gay.”

“You don’t look gay… sir.”

“Blimey, do you want me to wear a blinking rainbow??” Ghost barked out a laugh, watching Dean’s face go very red. “No, I guess I don’t. Funny, no one else has any trouble picking it up.”

Dean went quiet and looked down at the curb. “I wish I wasn’t… Maybe then they’d leave me alone.”

“No.” Ghost shook his head, sighing and taking a puff of the cigarette, slowly letting it out and thinking about his own experiences. “Prats like those kids that are bullying you don’t care if you’re actually what they call you. They just want to be assholes and they happened to land on the truth.”

Dean looked up at him, again, and frowned. “Were you bullied?”

Ghost almost knee jerk told the kid to go fuck himself, but he just sighed instead. “Yes. By the worst bully of all… My dad. He used to say a lot worse than those kids were. But… you’ll get your revenge, don’t worry.”

“Did you?” Dean asked, biting his lip. “I don’t think I will.. I’m a lot smaller than them, I don’t think I’ll ever be stronger than they are.”

“How old are you, Dean?” Ghost asked, glancing at the kid again.

“I’m 15, sir.”

“You have time to get bigger and stronger. Can you believe that, at some point, I was shorter than my little brother?” Ghost laughed, softly. “I was shorter until I was about 15, then I shot up and became around 6’4 by the age of 20, where I remained. I got stronger than my father, too. I got to a point where I could beat the shit out of him and he learned to leave me alone.”

Dean still didn’t look very hopeful. Ghost didn’t blame him, he hadn’t believed it until it happened to him. It was a good thing Price wasn’t around, he had a soft spot for kids like Dean, he might end up adopting the boy. “My name is Simon, by the way.” Ghost murmured, nudging Dean. “If they start to pick on you, again, you come back here. You get off of school at the same time?”

“3:00, sir…” Dean nodded. “It takes me about ten minutes to get home…”

“Alright. Then I’ll be out here.” Simon nodded and then he got an idea. “Here, stay out here for a moment.” He got up and quickly jogged inside, going up to his apartment and getting one of his small pocket knives, coming back down. It had the 141’s insignia on it, which Dean immediately marvelled at, as soon as it was in his hands. “Here, kid. Protect yourself with it, but only if you have to. Only if it’s you or them, okay?”

Dean touched over the insignia. “What does this mean?”

Ghost sighed and carefully sat down again, ignoring how badly his feet had started to hurt from the cold. “It’s… my squad’s insignia. I’m in the SAS.”

Dean’s eyes almost appeared to shine with admiration as he looked over it. “That’s… Special Air Service? You guys are so cool…”

If Ghost wanted to talk to Price, he’d consider making sure he’d be around when Dean was walking by, but… he didn’t want to talk to Price. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, honestly. Well… Dean was cool. “Thanks, kid. Again, though, not unless it’s you or them.”

“Alright… Thank you, sir.” Dean mumbled and put the knife in his pocket. “I’ll start walking by here every day…”

“Good.” Simon nodded. “You should go home, Dean. Do your homework, or whatever.”

Dean nodded and got up, waving before he was rushing off again. Ghost watched him, making sure those kids didn’t come back until made it to the front door of a small building, which Ghost did recognize as a smaller home for boys. He recognized it because he and Tommy had once spent a week there, while some shit was happening with his dad and mom.

Tommy would have liked Dean. So would Soap.

Ghost shook his head, going inside. When he checked his phone, he realised he’d been out there for close to 45 minutes. Oh well… Soap would likely be proud of him and… okay, maybe he did feel a bit better. Or… he did until he made it inside and he was looking at the letter, again.

As grief did, he climbed into bed, feeling as though his ribs were exposed, again.

The next day, he almost didn’t want to get up and go outside. However, not only had Johnny asked him to, he’d promised to make sure Dean was okay and he couldn’t find it in himself to let the kid down.

So, he’d gotten out of bed and dragged himself downstairs, putting on shoes this time as well as a hoodie, and he waited. As promised, Dean was soon running by, coming all the way up to the curb and plopping down. “I have something for you.”

“I don’t need anything, kid.” Ghost shook his head, before humphing when Dean held out a bag of fast food. “Nevermind, I’ll take it.” The brown bag reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in at least a few days, so he just took the bag. “Where did you get this?”

“My cousin works there, sometimes they have orders that are mistakes or never got picked up. So… he gives them to me because I can’t afford to eat during the day.” Dean shrugged. “I took a sandwich out of it, so now you can have the rest.”

Oh yeah, Soap would have adored this kid. Ghost grunted in response, getting out what looked like a half sandwich and starting to eat it. It was pretty good, so he thanked the kid, and then sighed. “Did those twats mess with you, today?”

“They did, but it was just their usual.” Dean shrugged. “I think they’re scared I’ll tell you or something. I think one of them recognized you, your last name is Riley, right?”

Ghost was impressed, though then he was suspicious. “It is.”

“One of them… his dad was also in the SAS. I think he knows you.”

Ghost wouldn’t have been shocked. He wasn’t blind to the fact that he was a legend in the SAS, that Simon Riley was both a ghost story and practically mythos. He could see why… goes missing for nine months, shows up practically insane before disappearing and allegedly wiping out an entire cartel. Not to mention the rest of Ghost’s career and his attachment to the legendary John Price. Bigger men had pissed their pants at the mention of Ghost. “Well… tell them that Simon Riley is watching out for you.” He chuckled. “They ought to leave you alone.”

Dean nodded before standing again. “I have to go, I have chores and Mrs Blathers is a real cunt when I don’t get them done in time.”

Ghost barked out a laugh, liking the kid’s spirit. “Well, go then. Thanks for the food, Dean.”

“Anytime!” Dean grinned before running off, again, already running better than the day before. The kid was sweet, he’d admit.

The next day, he just got a wave before running fully to the orphanage, but Ghost didn’t mind, just heading on to where he’d agreed to meet up with Jason, which was behind a store. “You look less like shit than I was expecting.” Jason chuckled, softly.

Ghost rolled his eyes, “thanks. No, some kid is stopping by every day, and I don’t want to look pathetic in front of him.”

Jason full out laughed that time, shaking his head. “Why is he stopping by?”

“Some kids are picking on him.” Ghost sighed, hopping up to sit on some crates and accepting the lit cigarette that Jason offered him. “They bully him for being gay and so I told him to start coming by on his way home so he wouldn’t get hurt, more.”

“You know, you act like a cold bastard, but you’re really a big softie when it gets down to it.” Jason sighed, leaning against the crates and then holding up a brown bag. “Don’t bother paying me. I know you won’t, and… I feel bad asking.”

Ghost got out the cash that he’d brought to actually pay Jason, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Oh, of course you bring the money this time.” Jason huffed, taking the money out of Ghost’s hand and shoving it in his pocket. “I’m taking it, but consider it reparations, bastard. Has that um… American, Alex, called you any?”

“He has a boyfriend, for one, and for two, no… He’s busy.” Ghost chuckled, watching Jason make a disappointed face.

“And the other… Alejandro, I think his name was?”

“Married.”

Jason groaned, shaking his head. “Of course he is. Man, you’re useless as a friend. You take my weed, you don’t pay me, and you can’t hook me up with any of your friends.”

Ghost laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think I was useless when I got you out of trouble… what was it, now, 13 times?”

Jason huffed and muttered something in response that sounded something like “it was only twelve, you cheeky bastard”. Semantics. However, they both then went silent and Ghost could feel his ribs exposed, again, the weight yanking at them.

So, he distracted himself by opening the bag and inspecting around in it, glad to see a couple pills in there, too. Nothing too hard, but enough that if it got really bad, Ghost had a way to escape for a few hours. Jason knew him well.

“They wouldn’t happen to be open relationships, right?”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason snorted and then looked down at the ground, again. “How bad is it, this time?”

Ghost wasn’t sure how to best answer. It wasn’t like his family dying, where all he thought about was ending it every minute of every day. Don’t get him wrong, he was considering it, but… no. This time, he was just exhausted, every day. He was so unbelievably exhausted. He didn’t know how he was going to make it to the end of the year without Soap.

If he didn’t have the letters forcing him to go week to week, he wouldn’t.

“It’s just as bad, but in a different way.” Ghost sighed, leaning his head back to rest it against the building. “It’s… a suffocating grief. Like I have no oxygen, not like I’m on fire like last time.”

Jason didn’t answer, remaining silent for a bit before straightening again. “I have to go. I have more stuff to deliver. I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“‘Course.” Ghost agreed, since he’d likely burn through it by then.

“Get some sleep, Simon.” Jason sighed, waving at him before walking off.

Ghost grunted when he was gone, since all he did was sleep. Hey, he wasn’t going to do anything else, though.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

@sleepparalysisd3m0n @maxisawell

#Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #main character death #grief #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #cod #ghost cod #soap cod

38 notes · View notes

tinyladofladdies · 13 days

Text

my testimony 🌊☆⋆｡🪼 (of how i returned to God and truly came to know Jesus for the first time after being a distant believer turned atheist) . . 𓆉︎ ࿔*

Romans 8:38-39 — For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

like many, not all, Christians, i was raised in an american Christian church, knowing who Jesus was my whole life.

from the youngest i can remember, i was attending some sort of church, usually with my nana on my dad's side and then for a bit, with my parents at a different church in town. i attended VBS most summers, went to sports camp at a different Christian church, got to a point where i served the coffee station in my nana's non-denominational church, went to 3 services a week with my other grandma, and as a child, i genuinely loved praying and had a deep understanding of the gravity of what Jesus did for us; i remember as a child feeling genuine sadness thinking of how Jesus died for our sins while being innocent. i loved God.

yet still, once i got to around 6th & 7th grade, i could no longer find myself believing in God. i wanted to believe in something; i attended many sweat lodges with my kaka (grandpa), called myself an "omnist" at one point (someone who believed all religions had an equal possibility of being correct and therefore all religions deserved equal respect). but, very quickly, i started identifying myself as an atheist.

there were many reasons for this; when i was a child, my dad went to prison. i saw drugs all around me, both my dad and my aunt being addicted, as well as other distant family members who i didn't meet, to the point that my dad went to prison for 8ish years and i wasn't allowed to see my aunt anymore for several months. because of my dad's addiction, my mom worked hard, multiple jobs, and i was usually with my dad, and as a young child, felt responsible for my two younger siblings at the time. whether i was with my aunt or dad, i felt responsible for keeping my younger cousin and my two younger siblings at that time safe. there was an unnecessary pressure on me, now that i think back i had a lot go anxiety even as a child, and i know these things added up, because by the time i was 8-9 years old (when my dad went away), i became severely depressed. the first time i physically self-harmed was in 3rd or 4th grade, and i had deep suicidal ideations. i was exposed to things as a child that i shouldn't have been (it's hard to comment on this, because i know i had weird behavior and severe guilt as a young child that was definitely influenced by trauma, except i believe some things happened to me that i repressed because i can't remember). i developed a p*rn & m*sterb*tion addiction still in 3rd or 4th grade, and long before that, sexualised myself as a child. leading up to 6th or 7th grade, my addictions got worse, i was still suicidal and depressed, taking very poor care of myself, and i could no longer feel that there was any God watching over me. so, i became an atheist; i then despised being at church with my nana, i didn't want to stand during the worship music even though, before, i would sing with my whole chest, and i just remember wanting to cry and run out one time because i absolutely did not want to be there and did not want to be standing. one morning, i stayed home from church and my nana got upset with me and told me i could not come to her house unless i came to church with her, and when i told my mom i no longer believed in God, she said i had no feelings or empathy. i say all of this, not because it's easy or to be glorified or because i want my family members to feel any guilt over things they said in 2018; i have fully and completely forgiven both my mom and nana, and my relationship with both of them has drastically improved as well as my relationship with God because of their own faith. however, these things are important to be raw about. the hurt i was already experiencing being added onto made me a stronger atheist, and i know that many people feel the same thing or have been through the same thing, and i want to offer them empathy and hope in Jesus. i don't glorify my trauma or sins, i acknowledge them and how severe they were, but i use this as a testimony to glorify GOD and how far HE has brought me and how much HE has healed me, forgiven me, and saved me from.

from the time i was in 5th grade, i identified as bisexual & pansexual, and from 9th grade to the beginning of my junior year, i identified as non-binary, trans, and every queer label under the sun. i was bisexual, i was lesbian, i was a gay man, i was aromantic, i was hypersexual, i was every "mogai" label that i came across on the internet, i was radically queer and this journey as well influenced my view and idea of God. i was a radical queer inclusionist, i was a radfem/terf, i was pro-choice, i used God's Name in vain and viewed myself worthy to be referred to as a "god," i believed in astrology signs and "vibrations," and the "divine feminine," i talked badly about Christianity while calling myself a Christian, all of these things.

and while some of these sins are at different points in this timeline, before or after i became a Christian, all of this throughout my walk added up to who i am, how i view God and what my relationship with God is like here and now, today.

in the summer of 2019, i moved to california from kentucky with my family after being raised in ky my whole life. i was 13, i was battling extreme intrusive thoughts which caused, yet again, more anxiety and suicidal ideation, and i still did not believe in God.

my family & i lived in hotels for the first month or so that we got out here, where i isolated myself as much as possible, battled my own thoughts, and spent way too much time in my head.

when we finally found and moved into a house, where we still live today, my mom, siblings, & i found a church that is a 5 minute walk from our house. i started going with my family, asked for a Bible i believe the first Christmas we had here, and back then, shortly before and after covid first hit, i took a lot of walks. i would pray. i would ask God for silly signs to prove Himself real to me. i got to this point, and this was now in my 8th grade year (where i dropped out of school due to severe anxiety and developed a horrible reversed sleep schedule...whole other story), where i started believing in God again, but now i felt fear because i believed God was real, but i couldn't really believe. and if i did, i didn't want to follow Him, which made me feel even more guilt; i didn't and still don't know why i felt this way.

i do know, that my relationship with my family was getting worse & more toxic, there was still deep sexual sin in my life, and i was still struggling mentally. i was becoming a worse person to myself, to my family, and to all other people around me. i felt isolated, i felt unreal, i felt anxious, and i felt guilt.

i got a point where i was so delusional and mentally detached that i thought i wasn't even human.

i remember that when things kind of built up, and fights with my mom got worse, and i said or did something i know i shouldn't have, i would just pray; crying & sobbing for hours on end, praying, asking God for forgiveness and help. i think the first time i really repented in prayer was during these times. i knew, and i told God this, that there was something within me that was causing these attitudes, behaviors, and sins, and that i couldn't do it on my own. i wanted so desperately to just act different, be different, be better as a person, and i told God that i just did not know why i couldn't just change myself, knowing that everything in my life was wrong. i just couldn't.

one of the last times i prayed one of these long, desperate prayers, i remember distinctly telling God that i felt like i was too far gone for Him to save me or help me. i don't know if this was a saturday night or a few days before the next Sunday, but i know that the next time there was church, "something" (which i now know was the Holy Spirit), compelled me to go. this was still during covid, church was in different area of the building than the main services used to be, everyone was 6 ft. apart with masks, it was bizarre. but the message that day that stuck with me was "nobody is too far gone for God's love."

that was the exact thing i prayed. and all this time i was asking God for a sign, He spoke to me in the most direct, beautiful way.

as a kid, even with my extreme love for Jesus, i always felt that in order to pray "that prayer," or to even be baptised, i had to get my life together. i had to be kinder, be a better sister and daughter, stop sinning, at least for long enough that i could finally be worthy enough to approach Jesus and tell Him i wanted Him as my Savior.

but for the first time, that lie was undone. i left that service early because i didn't want anyone to see me crying, i cried all the way home trying to hold back the tears, and as soon as i got to my room, i fell down with my head bowed on my Bible and i repented; i admitted everything i had done that had been weighing me down for years, and i finally said the words "Jesus, i accept you as my Lord and Savior."

i finally admitted Who Jesus was, that i believed what He did for me, that i needed God's forgiveness, and that i wanted God's guidance for my life.

now, this was january of 2021 (it's actually funny because for a long time, i thought i was saved shortly after my 15th birthday, but it was actually a month-ish before that birthday, so i literally got my salvation date wrong LOL).

i have to admit, that after praying that prayer, although i felt the peace and presence of the Lord in a way i never had before, i started going to church but i didn't start living for God for a very long time. and even with going to my church, i eventually stopped because my stepdad and i got into a fight where he basically said "why are you even going to church if you're gay?" and while that didn't stop my belief in God, i felt ashamed to pass my stepdad walking out the door on Sunday mornings.

a lot of sin in my life actually got worse after i came to Christ; i was still gay and trans, still sexually sinning with my addictions, still not being the best family member, still being a very toxic person, and still using the Lord's Name in vain and using God's Name in fights to defend things that aren't even biblical.

it wasn't until august of 2022, the beginning of my junior year, that i made the step to start going to church again, to get baptised, which i had put off for so long, and to start taking God seriously. i started going through the verse of the day in the youversion Bible app every morning, i started praying every day and more consistently throughout my day, i started trying to learn more about who God actually is, and i started serving in the kids' ministry at my church. eventually i started attending and then serving in the highschool ministry, i started serving in the choir and greeting team, and for the first time, i really sat down and examined my sins & behaviors; even after beginning to take Jesus seriously, many sins, even sinful thoughts as well as behaviors, continued, and it took a lot of help from the Holy Spirit, a lot of self-control, a lot of mindset & heart attitude change, and a lot of repentance, to get to a point where i knew exactly how God wanted me to live and started putting it into practice.

in the very beginning of building my relationship with God, i felt peace and joy like never before, and thought "why on earth did i never follow Jesus before?" but as with every believer, the enemy started attacking and i had, and still do currently, have to navigate through spiritual attacks; i have slipped and sinned and messed up seemingly "way too far" into my Christian walk, knowingly, knowing what is sin and what isn't. it took me absolutely forever to finally and honestly surrender my false identity of homosexuality & gender identity over to God (and His love, comfort, and patience was so present with me through that long process), it took forever to unlearn things i had been taught by the world or that i had somehow believed (and that unlearning process is still continuing sometimes as i read the Word of God and get closer to Him), it took forever to finally manage my thoughts and temptations, and even recently those thoughts & temptations have caused me to either slip or fall into anxiety.

my testimony is still being written every day, but all of this is a testament of God's EXTREME goodness, faithfulness, and grace.

i have been under severe spiritual attack for the entirety of 2024. there are days when my thoughts seem beyond control, where my ocd presides over genuine interaction with God, where i don't feel God's presence almost at all. i have fallen into a deep depression, anxiety, ocd, and a lot of my passion to live out my life as it is right now has diminished, and that's hard.

but God has been faithfully speaking to me through His Word, through my family, through my Christian friends and mentors. He has been teaching me how to relearn prayer and interaction with Him, His presence and protection have brought peace and encouragement like never before, even when i'm in a dark season where it seems like i should be feeling everything but peace or encouragement.

but God is building me up and preparing me for whatever seasons are going to come next, and all of this is to say, God is real.

God is patient, God's grace never runs out; the message that led me to salvation was "nobody is too far gone for God's love," no matter what you have said or done, how broken you are, Jesus is victorious over every single part of the battle. that message is still true.

God loves you, God is near to you, God's grace & patience are extended to you and me time and time again, and God has a plan for you. He created you to know Him and He will meet you right where you are.

one of my favorite verses (and chapters, really), is the one quoted at the very top of this post, but i will reiterate it time & time again for as long as i live . . .

I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜ : creds . .

dividers: roseraris

18 notes · View notes