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middlepartmatt · 1 month

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Hotshot

“you're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud... but i'm about to show you, baby, slow down” — SLOW DOWN, chase atlantic

SUMMARY: you and matt have been enemies since you were kids, but one night when you're forced to share a bed with him, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, mainly dom!matt, mainly sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), doggy lol

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first smut on here i am NERVOUSSSSSSSSSSS but anyway this is an outtake from my matt fic on wattpad causeeeeee i can't be getting cancelled on that silly little app... i hope u enjoy lol. ALSO if you don't like smut that's not really my issue so just don't read it!

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"I'm not sleeping in here."

Matt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks from you to the bed, then back again.

"Nick and Chris are already asleep," he says. "So unless you wanna go and wake them up, you're stuck with me."

You sigh, looking around the room.

"I'll just sleep on the couch," you decide.

"It's not like we haven't slept together in the same bed before," he reminds you, referring to when you would have sleepovers with the triplets back when you were kids. He pulls off his black tee and climbs into the bed. "So just get in."

Your eyes widen, but you obey, climbing in on the other side. You immediately roll over, turning away from Matt since you knows he's facing the middle. Why does he always have to face the middle? It infuriates you.

To your surprise, Matt doesn't say anything else. Considering you'd just been having an argument for five minutes about the sleeping situation, you'd expected him to try and get in one last dig at you before you both go to sleep. He's not done that though, instead he's fallen completely silent.

You know he isn't asleep. When Matt's asleep, his breathing becomes heavier, a little ragged, but right now he's silent as ever. You shift uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure what to make of the situation. Matt's right; you've slept in a bed together before, yet it feels weird now, with his brothers in the room just next door.

But it's not just that.

It also feels weird because of the fact that you feels the need to cross your legs, and that your heart is beating faster than usual. Matt's room, which is usually freezing, seems boiling hot right now. You're thinking that it just might have to do with the fact that Matt's currently shirtless.

Matt moves, causing you to be snapped out of your thoughts and jolt at the movement. You inhale sharply, feeling your eyes on her back.

"'s something the matter?" he questions.

"Nope," you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you.

"You sure?" Matt hums. "You seem uncomfortable."

"Just shut up and go to sleep," you snap. Matt just chuckles.

"Night, angel," he says, using that infuriating nickname he'd given you back in elementary school. Angel. It's not supposed to be a compliment, but rather make fun of you for supposedly being a goody-two shoes, which you personally don't think you are.

"Night, hotshot," you answer. You started calling him this a few years ago, when he was promoted to main goalie of the lacrosse, and also when he and his brothers started getting popular on YouTube. Annoyingly, he doesn't seem to hate the nickname as much as you hate yours.

You closes your eyes but still, your senses pick up on his every breath, every shift of his body in the pitch black darkness. Yeah, you're definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

You hear Matt moving around, then suddenly feel something cold on your waist. It takes you a moment to realize it's Matt's hand, now resting lightly on your hip.

You stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the touch. Maybe it's an accident? you think, but there's no way Matt would accidentally put his hand on you.

Okay, now you are most definitely not getting any sleep tonight. Not that you really mind though, to be honest.

You feels his fingers slide up your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip. You shiver involuntarily, and his hand slides back down, grazing the hem of your tank top.

"Is this okay?" he whispers, and you just nod. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak, anyway.

You then feels his hand move upwards again, slowly, deliberately, until it reaches the bottom of your breast. You gasp softly, arching your back slightly, offering him better access. His hand cups your tit, squeezing gently, making you moan softly. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body.

You can't help but let out a small whimper. His fingers are still pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you can feel you core starting to throb.

You close your eyes, biting your bottom lip. You can feel his breath on your neck, and you slowly pulls his hand off of you so that you can turn around to face him. You tilt your head up to meet his lips. His tongue slips into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

After a second you break the kiss, panting. "Matt," you say, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, angel?" he replies.

"You shaved," you point out. Last you'd noticed, he had a little bit of stubble where he hadn't bothered shaving the last couple of days.

"Thought it would make for a smoother ride," he murmurs in response, and he kisses her again. You feels yourself getting wetter at his words as you kiss him back, your hands roaming over his chest. Matt kisses your neck, trailing his tongue along your skin, and you arch your back once again, pressing yourself against him. You can feel him against your front, and just the touch of his dick against you only makes you needier for him.

Matt moves his hands down your body, pulling your tank top up over her head. You lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. He trails kissed on your collarbone, before moving down your stomach. You lie back, letting him take control.

You lets out a soft whimper as he reaches your pyjama shorts, toying with the edge of the waistband.

"Matt," you whimper. He doesn't reply, pulls them down along with your underwear, exposing you.

"You're so wet," he muses, a grin present on his lips. "Is this all for me, angel?"

"Obviously," you answer, rolling your eyes. Becoming impatient, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards you.

He licks your slit, tasting you. You moan, arching your hips towards him. His tongue flicks over your clit, making you shudder, before he begins sucking on it gently. You moan louder now, grinding your hips against his face. He licks your clit again, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying out.

Matt pushes two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. He slides his fingers in and out of you, making you writhe beneath him. You bite your lip, trying not to make too much noise.

He puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You're slowly coming undone, moaning loudly, but he doesn't stop as he continues to rub your clit while he fingers you.

"I want your tongue again, hotshot," you say breathlessly, and Matt simply grins before obeying, moving forward and licking up your slit once again. You yelp, her whole body responding to his action. "Keep going," you order, and he does, tipping you over the edge.

"Fuck, Matt, fuck," you whimper as you cum, legs shaking under Matt's touch.

You collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily. Matt kisses your stomach, moving up to kiss your lips again. You taste yourself on his lips and you moan, reaching out to stroke his cock through his pyjama pants. Matt exhales sharply, bucking his hips into you.

You smirk, pulling down both his pyjama pants and boxers, before taking hold of his cock and stroking it gently. He groans as you run your finger over his slit, stroking him faster until you can feel him about to cum. Already.

You stop, and he glares at you. His eyes are dark in this dim lighting, fueled with desire just for you.

"Don't tease me, angel," he says quietly.

"What?" you ask sweetly. "I want to taste you."

It looks like it takes all of Matt's strength not to cum at your words. Instead he just nods, and so you climb on top of him, straddling him. You crane your body downwards, and he watches as you take his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him groan.

You take more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. He holds your head, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. You gag, but refuse to pull away.

"Just like that, baby," he tells you, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. "Fuck," he whimpers, and you almost come undone at the sound alone. "Jesus, angel... yeah... just like that," he mumbles to himself, eyes closed as he throws his head back while you continue to suck him.

You feels him finish, shooting his hot cum into your mouth. You swallow it all, moaning, and he finally pulls you off of him. You sit up, wiping the cum from your mouth. Once you've regained focus, you see that he's already half-hard again.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asks nonchalantly like he wasn't just whimpering for you moments before. You just nod, moving up and kneeling on the mattress. Matt gets behind you, rubbing his cock against your opening. Without warning, he slides it inside of you, making you gasp.

He begins fucking you, pushing his cock deep inside of you. You moan, pressing your ass further up against him.

"Matt," you groan, causing Matt to thrust faster and harder. "Matt," you repeat, and he moans.

"Keep doing that, baby," he tells you.

"Matt," you breathe. It's all you can say as he continues fucking you, his cock going deeper inside of you with every thrust.

"Fuck, angel," he mutters. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He continues to fuck you, making you scream out in pleasure. He pulls your hair, and you groan at the harshness of his touch. You arch further into him, noticing how it makes his hips buck harder into you.

"Matt," you whisper, hearing the way he moans loudly as his name leaves your lips.

"Angel, oh my God..."

"You there yet, hotshot?"

Matt shakes his head, refusing to fall for your teasing. He pulls out, causing your mouth to fall open in shock, before he rubs his tip against your clit. You moan loudly, wanting nothing more than for him to continue fucking you as he was before.

He slides his cock back inside of you, and you whimper in pleasure. He thrusts harder into you, making you cry out. He starts fucking you faster, making you moan even louder. On a high, you reach between her legs, playing with your clit.

"Am I not good enough for you, baby?" he questions, laughing dryly.

"Help me out here," you answer. "I'm almost there, fuck!"

He reaches down, grabbing your hand. He makes you keep playing with yourself, all while he fucks you harder, making you moan louder. He pulls your hand away, and you cry out.

"I'm cumming, Matt," you whimper, and he unravels at the sound of his name leaving your lips, thrusting harder as his orgasm bursts through him. You finish too, letting out a loud moan as you shudder, the feeling coursing through your body.

Matt pulls out, and both of you immediately roll over and lie back down on the bed. You lay in silence, apart from their ragged breathing. A moment later, he turns to face you.

"Still not wanna sleep in here?" he asks smugly. You roll your eyes.

"I said sleep, not fuck," you scoff. "Now shut up or I'm gonna be showering alone."

Matt does in fact shut up.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2: hi LOL ??? i never know what to say in author's notes it's always so awkward but anyway... feel free to request anything you wanna see: matt, chris, or both!

#matt sturniolo #mattsturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chrissturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicksturniolo

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 month

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Imagine proposing to Shanks

At a bar

You: [brooding over a drink by yourself]

Benn: [comes over and sits next to you, like a concerned papa bear] You've seemed really down lately, what's going on up there in that head of yours?

You: Shanks and I have been together for years, and ... I don't quite know what I was expecting, but I am not happy at the idea of being only his dating partner forever.

Benn: Is this because of the wedding we saw yesterday, down at the Chapple?

You: Sort of, now I know that I'm never going to get a traditional wedding like that, but I would like for him to wife me up.

Benn: You should tell him that because he's never going to come to that conclusion on his own.

You: I know, but I can already picture what his proposal would be like, improvised, sloppy, and probably involving alcohol.

Benn: [mutters to himself] Well, at least you know what you're getting into with him before you marry him.

You: what was that?

Benn: nothing. Can I offer you a piece of advice?

You: [nods]

Benn: Don't wait around for others to do something for you when you could do it a million times better yourself.

You: hmm, thank you for the food for thought.

Two weeks later

Shanks: [tugging on the white collar of his button-up like it's choking him,] Why the hell are they making such a big fuss? Insisting I dress up, just to go on a picnic.

Benn: [straightening his captain's tie] Because they love your dumb ass, for some fucking reason, and they went through the trouble of planning a special night for you two. So you're going to dress up, look nice, stay sober, try to behave, do whatever they say,

Shanks: [mutters] I already do whatever they say

Benn: [gives him the side eye as a warning] And you're going to bring them flowers and this cake.

Shanks: yeah, yeah, it's just it's been ages since we've had time to do something special, we're out of the honeymoon phase, you know? We're like an old married couple, we only have sex once a week and everything.

Benn: Oh, I know, we can hear you two in the crew's quarters, we appreciate that it's the same day every week too. [puts the flowers and box of cake in Shanks's hands] Now get going, if you're late I'll kill you myself.

Shanks: Alright, don't shove.

At the docks

You: wow, you made it on time.

Shanks: I wouldn't be late for our first date in over a year.

You: [winces at the reminder]

Shanks: [realizes he's made things awkward, he holds out his gifts] Uh, these are for you.

You: [can see Benn's meddling] Thank you, but we're actually going to have to wait for the boat to get here. I took your habit of arriving late into account when I made the plans, and the time I told you to come was forty-five minutes before you actually needed to be here.

Shanks: [puts his arm over your shoulder and presses a kiss to your head] You know me so well, and no worries if we have to wait, just means that I get more time with you, my love.

On the boat

Shanks: [looks around the glass bottom boat in amazement] Whoa! Look look! There's a tiger shark.

You: I knew you'd like it, we have it all to ourselves tonight. We'll sail around the reefs, and have dinner.

Shanks: we get to eat.

You: yes, they have your favorite, you can even pick out which lobster you'd like to eat.

After dinner

the boat captain: excuse me, we've landed on Firefly Island, you'll have two hours before we raise anchor and head back to the port.

You: thank you, [turns to Shanks, grabs his hand, and leads him to the heart of the island where all the fireflies are]

Shanks: [visibly resisting the urge to run around and chase them]

You: [rolls your eyes playfully] Go ahead, I know you wanna run, go get your energy out. Why don't you run around the edge of the clearing and herd them this way? [sits on a stone bench beside the pond in the center of the meadow]

Shanks: [kisses your cheek] aye aye

You: [waits until he's tuckered himself out, and has collapsed on the bench next to you] Sweetheart, are you having fun?

Shanks: the most fun I have had in a while, look at this jar of fireflies I caught. [holds up a large mason jar, packed with the luminescent insects] I know if I leave them in there too long, they'll die, but I wanted you to get to open it.

You: [gets down on one knee, positions the ring box on the side of the jar and unscrews the lid to let critters free]

Shanks: Isn't it pretty? [looks down at the jar to see the box on the other side of the jar] What'cha got there?

You: [sets the jar aside and opens the box to reveal the ring inside]

Shanks: [freezes]

You: ... I know I'm not going to get a fancy wedding in a place of worship or even a marriage certificate, but I would still like you to marry me. For us to be marriage partners, even if it's only in name.

Shanks: wh-... how ... [pulls out the ring and slides it onto his finger] it fits and everything.

You: [waiting for an answer]

Shanks: [notices your staring] what?

You: will you marry me?

Shanks: [pulls you into his lap, and kisses you] Of course I'll marry you, and no you're probably not going to get a fancy wedding, and you're definitely not going to get a marriage certificate. But I promise you, you'll get one hell of a wedding.

You: Thank you, love. [peers over to see Benn sopping wet in the bushes, taking pictures with a camera snail] Benn, what are you doing?

Benn: getting engagement photos, obviously.

Shanks: how did you get here?

Benn: I swam, now you two stop moving, so I can take a picture before these fireflies can eat the camera.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #red hair shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #shanks x reader #benn beckman #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/25/24 #no beta we die like men

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solarmorrigan · 9 months

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(Slight disclaimer: I haven't seen S2 in almost a year and parts of it are hazy, so if some details here seem repetitive/don't quite match up... don't worry about it, I love you <3)

cw: anxiety, mentions of past child abuse

Steve had not, for the record, wanted to spend his Saturday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles. He’d wanted to go to the movies, or maybe get lunch, or even just hang out, but Dustin had insisted, and now Steve is slopping through the muddy grass and trying to figure out if there’s any way he can get them home without getting the inside of his car filthy.

(Probably not.)

It’s not that he’s opposed to getting his hands dirty when he needs to, it’s just that hunting for baby frogs doesn’t seem like a need to Steve, no matter what Dustin says. He probably shouldn’t be such a pushover for the kid, but– Steve’s actually a little worried about him.

He’s been in a nasty mood for the last couple of weeks, alternating between snappish and sullen, throwing biting comments at Steve that go beyond his usual know-it-all lilt, or else going silent and only shrugging when Steve tries to ask him questions.

And Steve’s trying not to take it personally; they’d hung out a lot through the winter and on into the new spring, and he knows Dustin isn’t normally like this, and he doesn’t think it’s anything he’s done (Dustin keeps seeking him out, so it’s probably not him), but it’s definitely something. So when Dustin had actually suggested something for them to do, had actually seemed excited about it, Steve had been hard pressed to say no.

Even if it meant mud.

“Hey,” Steve calls as Dustin pulls ahead of him to start climbing down the embankment that pens in the stream. “Watch it, alright? It’s slippery.”

“I know what I’m doing, Steve,” Dustin snaps, and Steve can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Fine, sorry for giving a shit if you break your leg or something,” Steve mutters, beginning the precarious trip down the embankment himself. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

Dustin sighs. “Whatever.”

Steve shakes his head. He really hopes this isn’t just the start of puberty, or something. He doesn’t think he can handle another four or five years of this attitude.

(He doesn’t even question it anymore, the assumption that he’ll be around as Dustin continues growing up; it just seems like kind of a given.)

“So what are we doing here, again?” Steve asks when they reach the stream.

“I told you: we’re looking for tadpoles.” Dustin tosses a glance at Steve. “Baby frogs.”

“Yeah, dude, I know what a tadpole is, I did actually pass second grade science,” Steve snarks back. “Why are we looking for them, though?”

“I need them for school. For a science project,” Dustin says, peeling off to start looking in the shallow edges of the stream.

“Right…” Steve moves off in the opposite direction, looking for the shape of a thing he remembers seeing in a science textbook probably too many years ago.

They search in silence for a little bit, nothing but the sound of the woods and babble of water between them, but Steve keeps half his attention on Dustin even as he looks. If the kid falls in the stream and drowns, Claudia will never forgive him. He twitches a little when he watches Dustin skid over a rocky patch on the bank, but he finds his footing quickly enough, so Steve keeps his mouth shut.

“You’re not gonna, like, experiment on these things, are you?” Steve asks idly, finally tiring of the silence.

“Of course not!” Dustin exclaims. “I’m just gonna study ‘em. I’ll give them a good home and everything!”

“Alright, alright.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just checking that it’s not going to end up like the last time you brought in something weird from outside.”

Dustin stops walking, going quiet for a long moment, and when he turns around Steve is startled to see that he looks pissed.

“I’m not actually an idiot, Steve!” he barks. “I can tell the difference between a frog and some kind of alien monster!”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s not like I saw D’art and thought he was anything from around here!” Dustin goes on, stalking back towards Steve. “I didn’t think he was just some kind of fucked up frog! I knew he was something different, there was scientific merit in wanting to study him, and I’m sick of everyone acting like it was just some stupid mistake!”

“I didn’t mean to– Careful!”

Steve has no time to do much more than shout a warning and throw out a useless hand as Dustin goes skidding back over the slick, rocky patch, then slips and goes down hard, catching himself on his hands and one knee.

“Shit, Henderson, are you okay?” Steve is kneeling in front of Dustin in a blink, already searching for visible injuries; he’s probably fine, it hadn’t looked like he’d hit anything vital on the way down, but it couldn’t hurt to just check.

Dustin doesn’t move, his head still hanging between his shoulders, his back so tense he’s almost trembling, and worry starts to bloom in the pit of Steve’s stomach.

“Henderson?” Steve tries again, and that’s when he hears it – the sniffle.

Shit.

“Hey. Dustin,” Steve says, slipping into the same calm, firm register he uses when he’s lifeguarding, without even realizing he’s done it (honestly, he’d had to deal with a lot more kids with scraped knees than he had potential drowning victims when he’d worked at the public pool); he cups his hand over the back of Dustin’s neck, squeezing gently to get his attention. “I need you to let me see. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

Slowly, Dustin shifts so that he’s sitting with both knees bent in front of him, though he keeps his head bent down – and that’s fine, Steve won’t make him look up just yet. Instead, he does a quick inspection of everything else; both of Dustin’s palms are a little scraped up, and one is bleeding a bit, but it’s his knee that got the worst of it. It looks like it caught and scraped on the sharp edge of a rock, leaving a bleeding strip of skin that curves across the surface of it.

(It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Dustin hadn’t insisted on wearing shorts in March, but whatever. Now really isn’t the time to argue about practical fashion.)

“Okay, this looks like a pretty shallow scrape. I bet it stings like hell, but it’ll be a million times better once we get it cleaned up,” Steve says, framing the wound with gentle fingers, careful to avoid the drip of blood streaming down Dustin’s shin.

Still, Dustin says nothing. He’s practically trembling now, sniffling again, and Steve frowns.

“Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” he asks.

Dustin shakes his head.

“Are you sure? Did you hit your head when you went down? You should let me–”

“I’m not hurt, Steve, Jesus fucking Christ!” Dustin snaps, finally looking up; his cheeks are red and his eyes are watery and he’s clearly trying hard to hold everything in, so Steve does his best not to rock the boat too hard.

“Okay,” he says, low and smooth, still stuck halfway in crisis management mode, “then can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Dustin chokes. “Fucking everything is wrong, okay? I keep – I keep having nightmares and I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks and I’m so tired.” He loses the fight with his tears and they finally spill over, running down his face. “And my mom was talking about Mews the other day, like, just stuff he used to do, and she misses him even though we have Tews, and sometimes I feel like I killed the stupid cat, and I just–”

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry.” Steve reaches up and cups his hand right at the juncture of Dustin’s shoulder and neck, giving him another gentle squeeze. “You didn’t kill your cat, okay?”

Dustin gives a congested snort that’s distinctly lacking in his usual derision. “Yeah, I know that about the same as I know there’s nothing coming to get me at night, but I still can’t sleep.” He sniffs again, reaching up and trying to smear his tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m so done with this, I just– I want it to be over. It’s supposed to be over.”

There’s a little tremor in Dustin’s voice, and Steve’s heart breaks a little bit, because he knows exactly what Dustin means – he knows what the nightmares are like, he knows the guilt over things you can’t change, he knows the feeling of jumping at shadows. And fuck, the kid’s still so young.

(Never mind that Steve’s not even scraping nineteen yet. Never mind that.)

He should probably talk to an actual professional, or something—get some real help—but Steve isn’t sure there’s anyone out there that Dustin can talk to about government coverups and literal monsters from a hell dimension beneath their town. He’s not sure if there’s anyone even qualified. And while Steve sure as hell doesn’t feel qualified to do anything, either, he’d been there with Dustin when it happened, and he’s here with Dustin now, so he’s going to do his best.

“Okay, c’mere,” Steve says, giving one of Dustin’s arms a tug.

Dustin doesn’t argue, doesn’t even question him, and that’s almost more alarming than anything else; he follows Steve a few feet over to a grassy patch at the foot of the embankment and leans heavily into Steve’s side when they sit down again. The grass is a little wet, but Steve doesn’t even feel it as he wraps an arm around Dustin’s back and pulls him closer.

They spend a minute with Dustin’s face half buried in Steve’s shoulder before Dustin gives a muffled grunt of annoyance and tries to pull away. “This is bullshit,” he mutters.

Steve quashes the way he wants to flinch at the declaration and looks down at Dustin instead. “What?”

“Sitting here crying my ass off. It’s stupid. I’m being a baby,” Dustin says, trying to wipe his face clean even as more tears replace the ones he’s just dried away.

“It’s not stupid. Crying is normal,” Steve says.

Dustin scoffs, still trying to pull out of Steve’s hold, but Steve keeps a hand in the middle of his back, unwilling to let him go far.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists. “It’s, like, a normal body reaction, or something. It happens. People cry.”

“You don’t,” Dustin shoots back, and Steve can’t help the instinctive huff of this-isn’t-actually-funny-at-all laughter.

“Yeah, man, because I’m kinda fucked up.”

It’s clearly not the reaction Dustin is expecting, and he stares up at Steve with furrowed brows. “What?”

And– well, fair’s fair, isn’t it? Dustin told Steve what’s bothering him, so Steve can open up a little bit in return, can’t he?

Besides, he can’t really think of any other way to convince Dustin that he’s not just pulling some cool, tough guy shit.

No, he doesn’t stop to cry, but it’s hardly even a choice anymore.

“I used to cry really easily, actually,” Steve says, looking away from Dustin and staring out at the stream instead. “Like, over everything. Literally cried over a glass of milk I spilled once.”

Dustin gives a wet huff of laughter, and Steve allows himself the tug of a quick smile.

“My dad fucking hated it. He was always telling me to stop whining, stop crying, stop acting like–” –a little bitch, Steven. Alright, maybe Dustin didn’t need to hear everything his dad had said to him. “He said I needed to toughen up, be a man. The last time I really cried, I was, like, nine, I think? I don’t even remember what it was over, I just remember that it pissed my dad off. And he said he’d give me something to cry about, and, uh–”

Steve can feel Dustin going tense under his palm, as if he’s afraid of what comes next, and that’s fine. Steve has no problem stopping there; it’s not a story he’d relish retelling in its entirety.

“Anyway, after that, I just kinda… made myself stop. Just like he wanted. And honestly?” Steve blows out a breath, still staring hard at the stream. “It just makes everything worse, holding that shit in. Makes you feel like shit.”

Makes you want to make other people feel like shit, too, because at least it’s an outlet.

“So, whatever. ‘Be a man.’ That’s bullshit.” Steve has known for years that his dad is an asshole, that the things he says are shit, and maybe he’s never known what to do in the face of it, maybe he’s never reacted in a way that’s healthy or even safe, but that doesn’t mean he has to spread the disease around. “Don’t be like me, man, be like you. Cry if you have to.”

Slowly, Dustin wilts back into Steve’s side, curling up under his arm and burying his face half in Steve’s shoulder again.

“You’re actually really smart sometimes,” Dustin mumbles against Steve’s shirt, and Steve snorts.

“Yeah, once in a while I might have some shit worth listening to.”

Dustin’s shoulders start shaking again, so Steve slings his arm more tightly around his back, and Dustin wraps an arm around his middle and clutches at Steve’s sweatshirt. At this point, it’s probably beyond stained with mud and snot and the blood from Dustin’s palms, but Steve can’t really bring himself to care. It’s not like it’s his favorite.

It isn’t the most comfortable place for a breakdown; March in Indiana is still chilly, and the grass is still damp, and the ground is hard, and Dustin’s cap keeps jabbing Steve in the collarbone, but Steve isn’t going to move until Dustin is ready. So they stay a while.

(Steve does end up knocking Dustin’s cap off, because it really is annoying, but he can’t help the little trill of fondness that goes through his chest when he realizes that he can faintly smell the shampoo he’d recommended to him.)

Finally, Dustin pulls away with a heavy sigh, snatching his hat back up and placing it firmly on his head, and Steve takes that to mean that it’s time to go.

“Alright, I’ve got a first aid kit in the car, and I think we can at least tape you together long enough to get back to my house,” Steve says, heaving himself up off the ground.

“We didn’t find any tadpoles, though,” Dustin says, looking back at the stream. “I seriously do need some for my project.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Steve says, even though he really doesn’t want to spend his Sunday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles.

“Yeah?” Dustin aims a hopeful little smile up at him. “Can I stay over?”

Steve shrugs. “If your mom says it’s fine, yeah.”

(They both know she will.)

“Awesome.” Dustin grins, but it’s a pale shadow of its usual intensity; the kid looks wrung out.

Steve glances up the embankment and then looks back at Dustin.

“Hey,” he says. “You want a lift?”

Dustin, who had been preparing to start the climb back up, looks over at him in confusion. “What?”

“Up the hill.” Steve jerks his head towards the incline.

“How?”

“Piggyback ride. One-time offer.”

“Dude, it’s steep as shit. And I just had a growth spurt,” Dustin scoffs. “There’s no way you can carry me up that thing.”

Steve smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“What do I win?” Dustin asks.

“You get to pick the movie when we get back to my house,” Steve offers.

Dustin chews it over for a moment, then nods. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Steve kneels down. “Hop on. And try not to choke me.”

When Steve stands up again, Dustin settled against his back, he realizes he may have slightly overestimated his own abilities; light, Dustin is not (the kid’s almost fourteen now, Jesus H. Christ), but Steve isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He starts up the embankment.

“When I win, after you drop us both back down the hill,” Dustin says, “I’m gonna pick Ghostbusters.”

Steve groans. They’ve watched that movie a hundred times now, and he has his limits. “When we get to the top, and I win, I’m going to pick anything but Ghostbusters.”

“Dream on, Steve,” Dustin pats his chest, and Steve keeps climbing.

They’re about halfway up when Dustin laughs in his ear, clutching more tightly around Steve’s neck as the incline gets steeper. “Holy shit, you’re actually doing it!”

“Told you,” Steve says, proudly sounding only a little strained.

He does have to drop Dustin’s legs and use his hands to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance when they get near the top, which does result in Dustin choking him, but Steve gets his revenge by wiping the excess mud on his palms off on the front of Dustin’s shorts once they get over the edge of the embankment.

(“Dude, what the hell!”

“You were already muddy!”)

Still, Dustin laughs and chatters all the way back to the car, still a little more quietly than usual, but Steve doesn’t think he’s seen him smile this much in weeks, so the strain he can already feel setting up in his legs and back is probably worth it.

And they will not be watching Ghostbusters (again) when they get back to his house, but maybe he’ll pick one of the Star Wars movies instead.

He can’t fix everything for Dustin, but he can at least make sure they have a good night – and sometimes, that’s good enough.

[Prompt: Piggyback rides]

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve & dustin #brotherly steve harrington and dustin henderson #stranger things #steve harrington vs. toxic masculinity: round 1 #no really this is soft as hell I promise #there are hugs #solar wrote

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

what happened to lucy gray baird // LTPF

summary: what became of lucy gray baird and sejanus plinth? you finally get some answers after sixty-five years.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this is kinda sad btw. just a heads up.

a/n: happy birthday to my bestie @that-veela-girl ! this was requested by her bc we talked ab this AT LENGTH in an ask and we just needed to see it fleshed out. also bestie i made some minor changes i hope that's okay with you ahhh

series masterlist // playlist

Lucy Gray stumbled up to the cabin, hours after she was certain you and Coriolanus had left. Her heart had finally stopped pounding, and the bullet wound that only just grazed her back was still burning. Trying to stop the bleeding was hard when she was all alone.

She takes deep breaths, sighing in relief as she opens the cabin door in the dark of the night. She was free, or so she hoped. She peaked in, gasping as she saw your figure asleep on the makeshift bed, Coriolanus's scarf gripped in your hands held up just in front of your face as the moonlight seeped in through the open door. She couldn't believe she had considered you a friend.

You looked so peaceful as you slept. Harmless, even. But she knew better. She closed the door quietly, begging the universe to keep you asleep long enough for her to get away. Where you were, Coriolanus Snow was never far behind. Lucy Gray quietly stalked off into the woods past the cabin, leaving any hope of returning to the lake or the cabin behind. She would go North, just like the original plan.

After hours of walking in the dark, the day would break- finally. Finally, she could breathe again. The sun was still rising when the smell of smoke reached her, making her furrow her brow as she looked around. Up ahead, between the trees, there was a fire sizzling out, coals still burning just enough to illuminate the area around it. She hears a twig snap a ways to her left and quickly jumps behind a tree to hide, heart racing and forcing her blood to start to seeping from her back again. She could feel it.

"Lucy Gray?" The use of her name makes her tense up, and she doesn't dare peak out of her hiding spot. "Lucy Gray, is that you?"

She knows that voice, but it's not Coriolanus, and it's certainly not you, but the Capitol accent still has the hairs on the back of her neck raising.

"It's Sejanus, you don't have to hide. I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes shut tightly. That's exactly what you had said to her before you tried to kill her. She couldn't trust Capitol folk. Not anymore.

"Lucy Gray..." The footsteps get closer. "I thought you were dead. She tried to kill me, too."

Lucy Gray opens her eyes, holding her breath as she peeks around the side of the tree trunk. Sejanus is there, several feet away with his hands held out to show her he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says again.

Taking a shaky breath she nods, stepping out from her hiding place but keeping her distance. "She tried to kill you?" She asks him. "You weren't there when we arrived... I thought you didn't make it."

"I was there. Just went to scout out what our path should be." He explains. "I heard it all. What he did to you..."

Lucy Gray shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I thought I could trust 'em."

"I did too." He replies quietly. "They were my best friends. My only friends. They tricked us both, huh?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head.

"Apparently." Lucy Gray mumbles.

"Come. Sit. You must be exhausted." He nods for her to follow him back to his little camp where he had the fire going.

"I just want to know why." Sejanus mumbles after close to an hour of silence, both of them sat quietly by the now dying fire.

Lucy Gray stays silent, just nodding as she stares into the orange coals. "I should have seen it sooner. She was just so... odd. So back and forth. I should have known when she flipped a switch and turned into a whole new person when she showed up at the hob."

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen that girl do." Sejanus agrees, tossing a stick onto the rubble of the fire. "She's crazy. I always thought that was a good thing, she stood up for herself, she wouldn't go down without a fight to get anything she wanted. She'd scream and throw things like no one's business when someone said something she didn't like. Lucy Gray, you have no idea."

"But you were friends with her. Why?"

"Why were you?" He asks, turning to her and raising an eyebrow.

Lucy Gray opens her mouth to answer, but she can't bring herself to say what she wants to.

"I get it." He admits. "She's good when she wants to be. I've seen both sides of her. She's... Complicated, but at the end of the day, I'm not much different than her. She's braver. Much, much braver, though. I mean, I've seen her get violent before, but nothing like that. I could never hurt anyone."

"They deserve each other." Lucy Gray mutters, and Sejanus hums in quiet agreement.

Snow littered the grounds of the presidential palace on the day Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray returned to the Capitol.

The whole building had a chill that stung Sejanus down to his core as he was lead through the large halls, the building more lifeless than it had ever been. Quiet. Haunting.

When he thought back on his life in the Capitol, a full lifetime ago, he did imagine at the time that you and Coriolanus would occupy the space; filling it with life and tones of red and laughter and love, despite everything the Capitol leaders had done. He had hope back then that you would have done better.

The guards open the doors to what appears to be a bedroom, large with endless opulent decor and a patio overlooking the back of the property.

He doesn't say anything when he enters and the doors are shut promptly behind him. He turns, seeing the guards had entered now. Likely, in an effort to protect him.

"Leave us, please." He prompts them quietly, voice rough from nothing more than the decades that had passed. The guards look confused, but obey anyways. Sejanus had been on the receiving end of your anger before, and he was one of few who lived to tell the tale. You wouldn't hurt him.

You were sitting at the window, looking out at the snow falling over your garden. You turn your head when you hear his voice, eyes already wide. You stand up slowly, holding the arm rest of the chair as you stare at him in shock. "Sejanus?" You ask, but it comes out more as a comment.

"Y/N." He smiles. Smiles. You could be sick.

You're not sure if this is a fault in your medication- if you had been distributed too many by Thirteens doctors and you were losing your mind, or if Sejanus Plinth was truly standing in front of you right now. You let out the slightest laugh from shock, eyes welling up with tears.

"It's good to see you." He says, taking steps toward you, hands held behind his back. He was older, like you, but you didn't have a doubt in your mind that it was him.

He had survived. All this time.

"Oh my..." You shake your head in disbelief as he opens his arms to you. After all this time- after what you did, something so long forgotten from your memory, he was greeting you with a hug.

You hug him back, once again unsure whether or not this was real. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and you had been executed by something so boring as an untraceable overdose. You certainly hoped not.

"Sejanus..." You cry, patting his arms as you pull away and looking him up and down.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, almost inaudible to you even from right there.

"Sorry?" You reply, that same dry laugh falling from your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I... You're alive. I'm proud."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this." He clarifies and you look down, then cast your gaze out the window.

"Yes, well... we have never been well liked." You admit.

"You were by me."

"But not anymore?"

He doesn't respond, motioning for you to sit down as he pulls over his own chair to sit across from you. You both sit down, and you continue to stare out the window.

"We had a good life. He gave me everything I have ever wanted." You sigh. "I apologize... for what we did that day. I have felt a great deal of... guilt, over it. I hope you know."

He nods, keeping his pleasant shock to himself. You were sorry. He didn't expect so much from you after what he had seen and heard of your actions over the years. "Why did you let us go?" He asked, and you look over at him again, your face falling into one of confusion.

"Us?"

"Me and Lucy Gray."

"Lucy Gray..." You mumble. "That's a name I haven't heard in years." You shake your head, hurt building up inside you. It doesn't settle well. "Not since Coryo told me that he had buried her."

This wasn't true, of course, you had brought her up a small handful of times since, but that was when you were under the assumption that she was under the brush in the woods of District Twelve by the cabin at the lake.

Sejanus's eyebrows raise. "I... No. She escaped. She is alive, too." He says, trying to gauge your reaction, but you keep much of your emotions to yourself. All that gave you away was the tear that fell down your cheek as you stared down at the greenhouse.

"I see."

"You are scheduled for execution tomorrow afternoon." He states. "Coryo will be the following day. Coin wants him to be hurt by your passing, there will be a big celebration and they want him to be a witness."

"A celebration." You chuckle, wiping your tear away. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Wouldn't you prefer to go together?"

The way you hesitate is what he knows is his ticket in. "That would be preferable." You say after a moment. "But we will be together soon, regardless."

"I have spoken to some people from Thirteen, and they are willing to let you go." He tells you, and you shake your head before you even think about it.

"No. I will not be happy without him."

"I think that's a hasty assessment." When you don't respond, your pride refusing to let you admit anything different, he continues. "Is that true? Or are you just so used to being with him that you can't imagine being happy without him?"

"He is my whole world, Sejanus." You answer honestly. You hadn't known anything different since you were eighteen years old.

"Y/N, one of the things I remember the most about you is that you won't let anyone get in the way of what you want. You've always been a true independent." He reminds you.

You're silent for a moment, reeling over the realization of what Coriolanus had truly done. To him, it was likely a harmless lie to keep you calm. To be able to leave you out there at the lake for days without fear, and it worked. But it could have cost you your life, if Lucy Gray was more vicious than she was.

"Lucy Gray saw you, in the cabin." Sejanus tells you, almost tracking your thought process. "That he had left you out there alone. She said you had never looked more peaceful than when you were sleeping."

Your blood runs cold and you slightly shake your head. He just confirmed your fears, and you think he knew that. She could have killed you, but she didn't. You were just as lucky to be alive as he was, and it was at the fault of your beloved husband.

"I never forgot what you did for me. You saved my life, then you could have killed me, and I count myself lucky everyday that I had made a friend in you." Sejanus says, reeling you in further. "And I just want to offer you that same freedom now. I know you deserve it."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes still locked on the snow coated greenhouse outside. "I have some conditions."

After he leaves, you are escorted outside and down to the garden. You would spend what was meant to be your final night there, with your husband.

You wanted to hate him for lying to you, you really did, but you couldn't. If you were to hate him for anything he had done, that would have happened years ago.

"My execution is this afternoon." You say to Coryo, approaching him as he admires some of the roses.

He hums in response as you join his side, picking one of the delicate flowers and holding it out to you with a gloved hand. You smile as you accept it.

"We were happy, weren't we?" You say softly, smiling down at the rose in your hand.

"Indeed." He grins, looking at you now.

"We took a lot of risks, and that rewarded us."

He smiles. "I would say so."

It was the end and he knew it. There was no use in fighting anymore.

"Would you have done anything differently?" You ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to you.

"Maybe I would have let you step in to prevent that stunt those kids pulled last year." He comments, sitting next to you. "But when it comes to us... no. Not a thing."

You nod slightly, looking down. "Sejanus is alive." You tell him.

"Is he really?"

"Yes. I just spoke with him."

"What did he have to say?" Your husband asks.

In the very same way that he never told you about Lucy Gray, you never told him you let Sejanus go either. Were you really any better than him? "That he is sorry." You answer simply.

"Well, he got what he wanted." He replies. "He shouldn't apologize for that. We never have."

"I agree, but he was more sorry for us." You explain, reaching out to take his hand beside you. "That it had to end this way."

"I see."

"I only wish that our children would have had a better chance." You say softly. You gave them everything- they were spoiled rotten their whole lives and prepared to take your place, but they would never get that chance. They were to be executed just after you, if Coin got her way.

"We gave them everything we could. This is not our fault."

"No." You agree. "It isn't."

"What about Cecelia?" He asks quietly. Your granddaughter was extremely special to the both of you, to him especially. She looked just like you, and every time he looked at her it's all he could see.

"Sejanus agreed that she will be well cared for." You promise, squeezing his hand. "She'll be okay."

He nods slightly. "She looks more and more like you every day." He says, unable to help it. "I remember you, when we were her age."

You smile at the memories, nodding. "I miss those days."

"I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling." He admits, voice cracking as he looks at you. "I feel as if I didn't tell you enough."

"You showed me every day." You promise, patting your other hand over his. "You were the best person I could have had by my side all these years."

"I love you." He says, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." You didn't want to talk anymore- you felt so incredibly guilty for deciding to leave him. It was betrayal. Maybe that is what would kill you.

You only have a few minutes before the glass doors are cracked open, and you look up. You know it's time. Commander Paylor is standing there with some guards, and she just nods at you.

You stand carefully, squeezing your husbands hand again as he joins you and remembering something you had heard him echo to you dozens of times.

Never let them see you bleed.

So it would be a silent goodbye. You drop his hand, looking up into his blue eyes for the last time as you take a step back.

He smiles as you raise your hand to your forehead in a salute. You don't need to speak- he knows what you mean. You weren't sure you could if you wanted to.

'Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.'

He smiles, refusing to let the heat in his head manifest into tears as he gives you a curt nod, a slight bow. Your show was over.

You can't bring yourself to look back as you are escorted, for the last time, from your beautiful garden.

The sound of fireworks and music comes from the home Coriolanus Snow had shared for so many years with the love of his life. The most perfect person he has ever known, and he knows that the sounds of national celebration are his indicator of your passing. So that was it. You commanded and filled the energy of every space you entered, so he wondered now, after you were gone, why the air didn't feel any lighter.

He stared at the bare trestles that in the spring had always held up your raspberry bushes. They were gone, waiting to sprout in the spring. He can hear you, still.

'Raspberries are perennials."

Only then, when it was dark and he was alone, completely alone for the first time in years, did he cry over the weight of your death. Again.

All that was left of him was that boy on the train, crying over a letter he knew you would never receive.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo.

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recycledraccoon · 4 days

Note

Quick! I'm from the future!! I need your inkblade headcanons or scenarios or the universe will implode!

Ok ok, I can do this. I can answer this ask without going out of control. I can be normal about this, I can.

I don't have very many hardset headcanons, but more vibes that rise and fall like the tide. Oisin's fins/head-crest flare out ramrod straight and the spines turn as purple as his face if he's blushing hard enough. I will die on this hill. Oisin's non-verbal emotions are actually really easy to pick up on if he's too distracted to keep them tightly in control. A thick dragonborn tail lashing back and forth like an outlet for Emotions That Are Too Big can be really inconvenient in a highschool hallway. The rise and fall of his fins/head-crest are MUCH harder to hide however. Oisin also smells perpetually of petrichor, and it drives Adaine insane.

1. I think Oisin's crush started softly, and with indescribable longing, probably before he ever knew who she was. Freshman year, a Thursday Intro To Glyphs class. He doesn't know or talk to her at all, just a face in a class he has that he barely notices. So he's not falling for her quite yet.

I think he first fell in love in the way one does when you see a stranger sitting across from you on the public bus or train. The sunlight hit her hair and he couldn't take his eyes off suddenly. Maybe he saw her smiling and laughing with her friends, maybe she was rolling her eyes at them with her nose scrunched up just a little in faint judgement, maybe he can't even remember because while walking past in the hallway he had been so dumb-struck for a second he walked face first into an open locker door to Ivy's absolute confusion. (She does laugh at him mercilessly, even if he won't say why he walked into it.)

It's a moment of "I don't know you, you don't know me, but for one unfathomably long moment I wanted nothing more than to imagine a life lived that included basking near you and your smile every day until I die."

Unrealistic right? Just a passing stranger, this isn't a love story, it's an average Tuesday and Oisin has homework and an appointment with his party in the forest after school.

He gathers his bearings and moves on, and if his mind wanders back to the girl in the hall who had captivated him to lethal effect? Well it's a pleasant memory for him and he thinks that's allowed, right?

Except she's in his Glyph class two days later, he realizes, and suddenly that hallway moment of longing rushes back until his entire face is purple and he's trying not to stare at the occasionally stuttering but brilliant wizard girl two rows ahead in class.

1a. I think Oisin continued to take Glyph classes at first because he hoped she would too. Adaine doesn't, but Oisin continues because he is good at them and enjoys it and it's certainly easier to learn when he's not distracted in class 70% of the time.

2. As Oisin gets older, more and more of his dragonic nature becomes apparent. It's like a second puberty happening concurrently with normal puberty, which means it's a rollercoaster nightmare for him and the High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders.

2a. Dragons have hoards, but not all dragons hoard the same things, even within their own subclasses. Still, Oisin has quite a few gems and jewels in his fledgling hoard, despite not knowing what he most wants to hoard, and if his favorite gem just so happens to be one that reminds him of the shade of blue in a particular elven girl's eyes then-

2b. Oisin also has a deep fondness for rain and storms. He always knows if it's incoming even if it's not in the forecast. Something primal in him connects to the raging skies, for good or ill. It makes him feel confident and powerful. He also considers it very romantic. Unfortunately, Adaine gets so cross with him anytime she hears him predict a storm coming, even if he's talking to literally anyone else. (Adaine thinks Oisin is a storm himself, and if she is not careful she will be like the last Oracle and have forgotten to stock up on water breathing spells and drown in him amidst the storm of his being.)

2c. Dragons also hold great respect for power and prowess. Physical fights for hierarchy, play, or even courtship are very normal. For all that they are sentient brilliant beings, Dragons are still wild, untameable, primal things. This lurks underneath all of them, good or evil. Some are just more adept at hiding it. For courtship, this comes into play as sizing the other up. Both sides are looking to find out whether or not the other has any worth as a long term partner who would need to help guard the nest. Protecting eggs and hoards from greedy adventurers is serious business. There are reasons there aren't many truly ancient dragons. Too large a discrepancy in strength can sometimes be a turn off for the stronger one, so the most successful courtships are usually of similarly strong dragons, or at least, ones that put up enough of a fight despite the gap.

c1. Oisin, seeing the great accomplishments and prowess of Adaine Abernant over the course of Freshman year, feels a deep stirring even before he's rage-starred. He wants to fight her so badly, to sling magic and bloody teeth until the raging beast inside is sated. Naturally this scares him at first, and Oisin REFUSES to seek Adaine out to talk because of it, because the teen boy part of himself wants something kind, soft and tender between them, while the dragon making itself known as he ages wants to prove itself strong to her.

Later, he will tell himself this urge was ENTIRELY because he'd been on the path towards being contaminated-then-consumed with rage and wanted the Bad Kids dead. Absolutely not because it's the first step in traditional dragon courtship. He just wants to prove himself to her. He wants to feel for himself the confirmation of her renowned battle prowess. This is all for purely rival-related reasons, he tells himself. He is, perhaps, a bit of a liar.

3. Adaine's crush, not just her thinking he's cute but her actual legitimate crush on him, actually starts when the Rat Grinders are being redeemed post-Junior Year.

Like, she hates his GUTS. He made her feel belittled and stupid during Junior year, and yes they kicked his and his friends asses, but also now they just have to deal with them still being around. (Yes this is how they made friends with Ragh too, but they're petty.)

Except...so now they have to spend time together, maybe in classes maybe because Lucy loves her friends despite everything but is also now a friend of The Bad Kids. The former Rat Grinders are CLEARLY trying so hard to be better and kinder, but still the parties are mingling and there is tension but its also so fucking funny.

So Adaine and Oisin's interactions is just a montage of them being assholes to each other. Oisin can be polite and respectable, funny even, with everyone BUT Adaine apparently. Bickering about wizard things, taunting cutting words, and Adaine repeatedly trying to punch his smug face whenever he gets too close while gloating if he's right about something.

3a. Adaine literally tells Aelwyn that while she wants and needs kindness, she does acknowledge that it's messed up that she wishes someone was a little mean to her sometimes. This rivalry with Oisin is NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!!!!!! (the monkey paw curls)

3b. The worst part, is no matter how much Adaine hates Oisin, is that it doesn't stop him from being attractive. Oh sure, she thinks he's an absolute asshole when he's sitting across from her in the library, but......

He's still absurdly tall, with large arms that are for more than just show. The conjuration tattoos are both practical and very pleasing to the eye, the almost electric blue of them a pleasing contrast to the softer blue shade of his scales.

The contradiction of those large round spectacles resting on his snout makes him look just dorky enough to go from being just another buff guy to being....well. Unfortunately, the glasses also do nothing to shield Adaine from the weight of his gaze.

When he looks at her with his full attention, behind those glasses are eyes of molten gold, and trained solely on her that gaze feels searing hot wherever it lands.

3c. Or perhaps, the worst part is she despises how he laughs. Sometimes, when she says something as clever as it is cutting, Oisin throws his head back just a little to laugh, bright and warm, all while his throat rumbles. It must be something draconic in nature, like a strong purr or distant rain clouds. It's much harder to get him to make that particular sound when he laughs, and the rumble feels unfairly like victory. Like she cracked the careful fascade he puts up to pretend like he's not a dragon.

The rumble also feels particularly reminiscent of butterflies in her stomach. (She elects to ignore this part.)

4. Oisin is a dragon, and he is a little obsessed with Adaine even if he doesn't dare to dream of going on an actual date with her after everything from the previous year. He cannot imagine a world where she would ever again believe him to be genuine in affection or intention towards romantic feelings. No instance of genuine fluster could ever be seen as anything but a clever ruse, he tells himself, he certainly wouldn't believe it if it was him.

But he's got her attention now, and he is possessive of that, of what he CAN get. Even if she hates his guts and pointblank threatens to kill him if he steps out of line-

Even if it's because she hates him, Oisin still has her eyes on him. Eyes like clear skies before the rolling storm, like they can pierce through everything he is and will ever be and know the truth of it.

Every conversation is like a battle, a verbal sparring that he TELLS himself is nothing at all like the courtship fights, but oh how sweet does it sound to his inner dragon. She could be cussing him out and he could feel like his heart would burst from his chest from the affection he feels, even as he riles her up further, until she slips into saccharine elven curses that he can practically taste on his forked tongue.

4a. Once he tosses back a clever jape in draconic at her. When she immediately starts in on him with the gutteral words of his native tongue, perfectly fluent but lilted ever so slightly like a refined melody, his tail accidentally knocks over a chair and his crest flares so strongly that he KNOWS his face must be more purple than a ripe plum. He's lost a battle and her laughter at the way he flees claiming he forgot something haunts him for days. He tries to get revenge by whispering things under his breath at her in Elvish, and her glare is divine, but it's so risky because she might just start talking to him draconic again and Oisin fears he could live a thousand years and still not be able to handle the sound of it when it falls from her lips.

a1. It's a lost cause. Adaine has a weakness now, and she wields it with all the precision she's developed on a battlefield. It's the cutest surest way to put him in his place, rile him up with the same burning fire that he seems so expert in stirring up in her. Oh he might try to argue back in draconic, or even throw a taunt out in Elvish, but he always stalks off first. (He makes the refined, posh but ancient language of Elvish sound like something Tracker would appreciate. He makes it sound ever so slightly wild, like something else is lurking behind all the refinery. Adaine is well practiced in steadying her breathing, and Oisin always cracks first.)

5. Everyone has seen these two bicker back and forth, and everyone knows trying to get them to stop or get between them means the two turn as a united front against whoever interrupted, and that's honestly worse.

5a. The Bad Kids and High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders have an ongoing bet amongst themselves on on if the two will snap and legitimately murder each other, or snap and start making out in the library. It's honestly way too elaborate of a betting system with odds changing all the time, but it is actually probably the most fun, non-tense bonding the two groups have together. They have also gone to GREAT LENGTHS to keep it secret from the two wizards, especially when one of them is the fucking ORACLE.

6. It's not all bickering and scathing words. Sometimes, when nobody else is around to see behind this precarious curtain...its soft and tender too.

6a. Sometimes, when Adaine is genuinely having a bad day and feels one wrong moment from truly snapping, she feels the magic of a conjured summon passing by whatever table or nook she stowed herself away to hide in. The smell of arcane-tinted petrichor lingers afterwards, and settled nearby is a warm drink that hadn't been there before. Sometimes its tea's she's fond of, sometimes a warm peppermint mocha from her favorite coffee place downtown. Against her better judgement, she is increasingly fond of the smell of rain. 6b. Sometimes, the rage feels like it never left Oisin's body. It burns him inside and out, and he's so exhausted fighting back these aftershocks. He is trying every day to make up for what he's done, but the feeling of unbridled rage haunts him. To indulge is to fail, fall off the wagon, and he will not falter, even if he squeezes his hands so tightly they bleed beneath his claws. A message cantrip blooms to life in his mind. Melodic, lilted draconic, giving not words of comfort, but familiar unafraid taunts. It's a challenge, he knows it, and somehow that makes it easier, rage giving way to fondness and the desire to prove himself. 6c. There are more late nights in libraries and sitting close at tables in out of the way restaurants working on difficult projects then either would ever let anyone know, not that they let anyone know of them at all. It's quiet honest conversations over dusty tomes and scattered papers. (They couldn't know how to make the most cutting of remarks if they knew nothing about each other, after all.) a1. Its Oisin, laying his head down in his arms over the library table, eyes watching her sitting next to him with hair falling in her face like it always does when shes bent forward focusing intently on her work. There are many, many times when Oisin does nothing but watch in silence. Sometimes, rarely, when its late and nobody will come by except to kick them out- He reaches a claw to gingerly tuck the silken gold hair behind the bright red ear of a girl who doesn't say anything about it, before he looks away entirely, trying to ignore the way he can feel his crest fluttering up and down as it seemingly contemplates flaring out.

a2. It's Adaine, rolling her eyes with no heat, as she steps into his personal space and is enveloped in the smell of petrichor. Calloused fingers lingering on rough scales as she ever so gently corrects a stance or spell casting motion that the unfairly tall dragonborn boy next to her had been working on perfecting.

The both know she doesn't have to be so close for this, that another demonstration from beside him would work just fine. He doesn't have to bend ever so slightly, dip his long draconian neck down so he can better hear her murmured words either, so close they can feel the heat of the others breath. He casts the spell perfectly, and Adaine steps back out to a respectable distance, and neither of them say anything about it.

7. Neither of them ever mention any of it. It feels taboo, like the triggering of a spell that will destroy both of them. The fighting, the bickering, the cutting words and sharp swords aimed at jugulars? That's easy, that's familiar and safe. It's what's supposed to happen between them, safe territory they can walk with eyes closed. It's the tenderness that's hard. It's the yearning and soft touches aborted at the last moment-

This is what would be their ruin, and the threat of it lingers above them, rolling clouds heavy with rain that just wont fall. Days, weeks, months pass by and they do not mention it.

8. Adaine, flush with Oracle-sure certainty, gestures for Oisin to slow down, to bend down low so she can tell him something. He protests, its about to rain any second and really Abernant, they're going to be late- Adaine kisses Oisin first, soft and sure as her hands cradle his scaled jaw, just as the dark clouds above them break open.

The kiss tastes like rain, and the loud, pleased rumble in her ears certainly isn't from the storm coming down on them.

#IM ABSOLUTELY NORMAL aslfjuhbalefjbna #this got TOO LONG #I WASNT SUPPOSED TO WRITE FIC WHEN ANSWERING THIS #anyway blah blah blah the poetic nature of the elven oracle falling in love with a storm dragon #gosh i'm gonna have to restructure this for ao3 uuuuuug #if anyone is trying to clock where I'm self projecting from my own previous crushes #You Don't See Anything Shut Up #adaine x oisin #inkblade #adaine abernant #oisin hakinvar #fhjy #fhjy fanfic #oisaine

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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I don't get why John was ever seen as crazy for thinking Hey Jude might have been about him, at least partially. I mean "You have found her, now go and get her", "You're waiting for someone to perform with" from around the same time as JohnandYoko becomes a thing - it's more crazy for me to assert the song is chiefly about 5 year old Julian Lennon. Not saying he didn't have a distorted perspective on many things, but tbh I'm kinda annoyed at how easily people jump to call John paranoid and delusional.

You are very smart and way ahead of me anon. I don't know why I fell into that 'silly John' line of thinking before. Maybe because he says a lot of out-there things, even in the actual quote where he says he thinks the song could be about him. Here it is in full, by the way:

“I always heard it as a song to me. If you think about it… Yoko’s just come into the picture. He’s saying, ‘Hey, Jude – hey, John.’ I know I’m sounding like one of those fans who reads things into it, but you can hear it as a song to me. The words ‘go out and get her’ – subconsciously he was saying, Go ahead, leave me.“On a conscious level, he didn’t want me to go ahead. The angel in him was saying, ‘Bless you.’ The devil in him didn’t like it at all because he didn’t want to lose his partner.”

So here's what sounds crazy in that quote (imo)

I sound like one of those fans who reads into things. -- yes.

Go ahead. Leave me. -- why would you have to leave him to get together with Yoko?

On a conscious level he didn't want me to go ahead. -- do you know that? What sign did he give you at the time that that was how he was feeling?

The devil in him being the conscious part and the angel being subconscious. -- so basically Paul is consciously evil but unconsciously good?

But the more I pay attention to the lyrics, the more I definitely see what he's saying.

The song starts out with two lines that very well could have been directed at Julian. (Just like Two of Us starts off as something that was probably about Linda but turns into a song for John). "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better." Could easily about Julian.

But after that it veers off. "Remember to let her into your heart." "You were made to go out and get her." "Let her under your skin." Can't be about a five year old but could be about Paul himself or any random guy.

Then quickly it gets more specific. "Any time you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders." Sounds very much to John. "The pain" sounds like something John would reference in their talks and Paul's response would definitely be along the lines of "just don't feel it then."

This line, "for well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder," also sounds just like something John might've said to Paul, telling him his coldness was a mistake.

And finally, "you're waiting for someone to perform with. But don't you know that it's just you. Hey, Jude. You'll do. The movement you need is on your shoulder." It's clearly for John. And it's clearly giving him the okay to go off on his own and do his own thing. Which was not what John wanted and which would've hurt.

Anyway, tldr: John was not crazy to think hey Jude was about him and we should probably take his lyrical analysis of Paul's songs a little more seriously.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #thanks for the ask!

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hikarimiyanaga · 3 months

Text

Healing A Broken Heart (Part 1)

Summary :

You and Wanda are in love. At least you thought so. During a particularly bad fight, she tells you that if she had a choice, she wouldn't be with you.

And that, in your thousands years of life, is the most painful thing you've ever heard that was said to you.

PS. This was inspired by that one reddit post and it snowballed from there.

You drink another shot. For the past few weeks and so, this is the only thing you've done during the nights. Drink.

As if it could make you forget. Forget the pain. Forget the memories. Forget Wanda.

But it couldn't, it was only for the night for you still remember everything the day after.

You really hated being a semi-eternal.

You were created to be with the other eternals but there was something wrong with you. You didn't have any powers.

Still, Arishem sent you along with Ajak and the others as a reporter.

You had the immortality and physique but nothing else.

Still, Sersei, Makkari, Sprite, Kingo, Phastos, Thena, Ajak, Druig and Gilgamesh were family.

So you did exactly what you were sent to do. Report. Until you and the others' rebellion years ago. Now THAT, that was a fun time.

But that? Being a hero? Something you're not? It was all in the past.

You just wanted peace. When the whole Westview happened. Ajak sent you, said something about knowledge in magic.

And so you helped. Both Wanda and Agatha.

Wanda stayed with you along with the darkhold and Agatha went with her coven.

You made sure that she made the first move. And if she never truly liked you then it was also fine. But she did. She kissed you that one night and you kissed her back.

You'd cook for her. Teach her more about her own magic. And she'd love you. She'd make you laugh. She'd make you feel peace.

It stayed like that. For Five years. You were both in love or so you thought.

She was getting impatient. You can tell. You knew that your method was slow. But it was also the safest. So that she can travel freely. Did you know that she would leave you for her boys? Of course, she will. And you'd understand. Those twins were her kids. Hers. And you-

Well, you didn't even know what you are to her.

And during the fight with her, you confirmed it. She was just with you because you knew the safest way. Because you had a way.

And so you left her. And left her notes, you weren't cruel as to leave her without knowledge on getting back with her kids.

And so here you were. In a random bar somewhere in the US. Where you stopped counting your drinks and stopped caring about yourself.

If anyone needed help then you would be there in a heartbeat, helping once again. But for now? You need to forget.

"Ah. Here you are. I knew it." You hear Sersei say as she sits besides you. She and Makkari have been trying to find you when they went to visit Wanda a week ago and you weren't there. Sersei quickly texted Makkari as you drink again.

"Why are you trying to find me, dear changer?" All of the eternals had nicknames from you.

"We were worried. What happened?" You chuckle at that.

"Just that-" You don't finish when someone hugs you from behind. You laugh as you turn and hug Makkari. "Hi, fast one. Sorry that you couldn't reach me."

"It's okay. Why are you here though?" Makkari asks and you sigh.

"Not here. Shall we go on a walk?" You pay for your tab and leave the bar with them.

You all get seated at a park and you look ahead.

"We got into a fight." Makkari raises an eyebrow at Sersei. A fight? That was it? "And she told me that if she had a choice then she wouldn't be with me." That made them both flinch. They knew your insecurities better than anyone else. The two of them were your closest confidants after all. "So I left. Don't worry about it, though, I made sure to leave her notes. And if she did become the Scarlet Witch and destroyed everything again then-" You inhale at that. "Then I'll help stop her."

"But Wanda was-" you shake your head at Sersei. Just hearing her name is enough to make you cry. You wipe away your tears.

"I need some time alone. Call me in the emergency phone if any of you need help." You stand then smile sadly at them. They both just watched as you leave.

6 months. It's been half a year since you saw Wanda. But by God did she get even more beautiful. You were helping Peter Parker's mess and making sure that Strange didn't do that fucking spell again. You really hated that spell, for fuck's sake.

You sigh in relief as everything ends and no one needed to forget him.

"This is why I don't mess with memories." Sersi, Druig and Makkari turns to you. "It's too messy."

"Really? I thought you of all people would want to do it." Druig says and you hum.

"It would make it easier, that's for sure." Wanda flinches at your statement. She was near enough to hear but far enough to not get spotted. Did you want to forget her? "But what the brain cannot remember, the heart and soul will surely do." Wanda was sure now. She approaches the eternals and you realize her presence, you quickly go to Makkari and tell her to take you home.

"But-" Makkari tries to argue but you shake her.

"Just this once! I swear, okay? Please, Makkari. I can't. My heart can't." You get teary eyed and Makkari turns to Sersei. They turn to Wanda who was going to call you.

"Just this once." You nod at her and Makkari quickly leaves the battlefield with you intact. She stops at your current house in New Zealand. You sigh in relief and hug her tight.

"Thank you." You kiss her forehead. "I owe you one." Makkari nods and leaves you alone. You get inside and start to pack. You just know that either Makkari or Sersei will snitch on you. You don't blame them, though, you know that Wanda has been persistent on seeing you and wanting to know where you are.

You didn't know why she wanted to see you.

You don't know want to know.

But if you had to take a guess then maybe she'll break it off for real. You wipe away your tears again. The partying and drinking for the past 6 months has done nothing good for you.

It just made you forget temporarily.

You look at your things. It was only one suitcase, the benefits of having too much money. You hum.

Time to go there then.

Another 6 months has passed by. This time, you knew it. You have peace.

Well, you did still have nightmares. Your insecurities are still there. But at least here, you were truly alone. No expectations. No betrayals. Just you.

Not even Sersei or Makkari knew where you were. You didn't want the risk. You just can't run into the source of your heartache.

Or so you thought. Because your phone rings. The emergency one.

"Hello?" You ask and it was Sersei who answers.

"We need help! Or rather your friend, Strange needs help!" You hum as you ready yourself.

"What do you mean?? She can travel the multiverse????? FREELY?????" You ask and Stephen nods. "Whoa. Holy shit. You do know this makes you like the singular only person in the multiverse that can do that. Like damn." Sersei raises an eyebrow at you.

"You're an eternal."

"Semi! But yeah, I might be the only one. Nice! The name's Y/N! We have no last names." America looks at Stephen who nods at her.

"I'm America. America Chavez."

"Nice to meet you! So why am I here?"

"She needs help."

"Some monsters have been chasing me all throughout the multiverse and-" You hum. You get your phone out and call Agatha. You stop America and they all look at you.

"Agatha. The darkhold is not being overused is it??"

"Nope. Wanda is learning it slowly. Just like you taught her. Why?"

"Just checking." You hang up and hum. "Has there been any portal sightings like the one from multiverses?" Stephen shakes his head at you.

"Through every universe, right?" America nods. "You don't need me. You need Wanda."

"You sure?"

"Yes. She can travel the multiverse too. Just not as freely as America. We should go to her."

"We? Are you ready to see her?" Sersei's question makes you flinch.

"Not really but-" you look at America. "A kid needs help so-"

"Got it. Let's go then." Stephen says and you nod.

'Oh. She hasn't moved. At all.' You thought to yourself as you look at the house you lived in a year ago. Stephen knocks on the door and you step back as Wanda opens the door.

"Oh. Strange. How unusual-"

"We need your help. Y/N says that you-"

"Y/N!? Have you been in contact with her?? Not even Makkari or Sers-"

"That's because they're snitches." You walk up the familiar steps and smile sadly at her. "Hi, Wanda."

"Y/N. Y-you're here." She says and becomes teary-eyed.

"Yeah. We need your help."

"I'll get us some teas." You nod absentmindedly as you look around, everything was the way you left it. It felt like you've never left at all. The books were in the arrangement you did. The pictures and decorations were never removed. You smile a little at the pictures.

There were five on display.

One with you and the eternals.

One with Wanda and her brother Pietro.

One with you, Wanda, and everyone, as many as the frame could fit.

One with you and Wanda just hugging and smiling at each other.

One with Wanda and Vision.

"Whoa! This is you, right, Y/N??" America asks as she looks closely at the pictures, you didn't even notice her standing from the couch.

"Yeah. It's her. She lived here before." Wanda answers for you as she serves the tea. You hum, agreeing with her as you get your cup.

"So you know magic??" America tilts her head at you as she sits besides you again.

"Know, yes. Use? No." America tilts her head again so you chuckle. "I only know spells, uses, and stuff like that. I couldn't do it even if my life depended on it. Ask Sersei sometime, she knows how many times I tried to see if I ever had some sort of power." America hums.

"And you never discovered any?" You shake your head.

"Nope." You smile at her as you sip your tea. Oh shit. Did she-? You look at Wanda and she smiles at you.

"It's your favorite." She confirms and you sigh. "So, what did you three come here for? What can I do to help?"

"First, of all are you halfway through the darkhold?" You ask and Stephen glares at you.

"Uh. Yes. I am. I think I am." You hum.

"Can you call it and I can check?" Wanda nods and calls the darkhold to her hand, Stephen scoffs at you and you glare at him.

"Look away, for fuck's sake. A child's safety is on the line!" He grumbles as he leaves the house and America was about to follow him when you stop her. "Stay here for a minute. I need to confirm-" You open the darkhold and hum. "Yep. Halfway through. You can travel with America now."

"What?" Wanda asks and you hum.

"So, the predicament is this. America is being chased around by monsters. Darkhold monsters and so I have reason to believe that one of your variations is chasing her. Possibly, to either get her power or use her. I am not sure. So I need you to travel with America. With Stephen too and solve this."

"What? How?"

"By defeating the other you."

"WHAT!? HOW!?" You hum at her question.

"Simply put, you'll need to introduce a variation of me."

"You?" You nod and grin at her.

"You know the phrase, 'every me loves every you'?" Wanda nods at you. "I have reason to believe that is happening between us. Not everyone gets their shit together or end up together or even meet but still. Every variation of me will love every variation of you."

"How are you so sure-"

"Phastos made a device. I used it like a thousand times. Trust me in this. I-" your phone rings, effectively cutting you off. You look at it and see Phastos's name. "Speak of the eternal." You answer it. "Wait. You caught one??????" You hum. "Okay. Okay. I got it." You nod. "Yeah. I still have it." You nod again. "Got it. We'll be there." You hang up and look at Wanda. "Change of plans. We're going somewhere." You hold out your hand to her and she accepts it. That makes you smile, at least she isn't allergic to your touch. "Come on, America. Time to meet my family." You grin then go outside where Stephen was waiting. "Stephen, open the portal to Wakanda!" Stephen nods and does as you say.

"It's a good thing that you have Thena, huh?" You grin at him, agreeing with him.

You look at the monster then at Phastos then at Thena and Gilgamesh.

"You guys are seriously amazing. Thank you." You took out a pair of glasses from your pocket and toss it to Phastos. "As I said."

"Have you used it at all for the past year?" Phastos asked and you blush.

"Only a thousand more times." You scratch your neck. "One of the reasons why I never get bored."

"I'm just relieved you haven't decided to get Phastos to make you a multiverse traveling machine." Ajak says and you smile sadly at her.

"I had what they had. Mine was just the saddest attempt." You look at the ground knowing that most of the people there are looking at you.

"Done!" Phastos exclaims and you smile, relieved that the attention is off you. "So, this will hopefully will let us know which universe this creature is from and the glasses will guide us there."

"You mean them?" You point to Stephen, America and Wanda.

"What? You're not coming??" America asks as she gets your hand.

"Sorry, kid. I'll only slow you guys down." You ruffle her hair. You look at Wanda then smile at her. "Try to keep this kid safe. She's pretty unique. And she'll be able to help you too."

"Got it! Universe 567. That's where the monsters are from."

"Good. Here's how the glasses work." You begin instructing the three of them and making sure they knew what to do.

Wanda is to make sure that the traveling of the group is safe and sound, she can fight off the multidimensional monsters.

Stephen is to make sure to locate your variant.

America is to make the group travel freely.

You wave them goodbye and smile as they leave. You collapse to the ground and Makkari is by your side immediately.

"I'm okay. Just really-" you let the tears out and sob.

The dam finally breaking through. You don't know if you'll ever get over Wanda.

It took them a week to find you.

Turns out you were a pretty badass Black Widow in Universe 567. You were trained alongside Natasha so the two of you were like siblings.

567 you tried to refuse first but when she saw the monster firsthand, she finally relented and agreed.

Meeting 567 Wanda was chaos. She tried and tried to resist both her variant, Stephen and 567 you but when the avengers arrived, it was a done deal. 567 Wanda was captured and stopped. 567 you fought for her rehabilitation though, stating that you won't ever forgive yourself if you let another one fall to that deep abyss. 567 You promised to help her, to take care of her and teach her how to be compassionate again. As they were leaving Universe 567, Wanda couldn't help but smile as 567 you helps 567 Wanda to her feet.

It looks like your and hers 567 variants will be okay.

You were back in your old tattered hut in the Philippines. The peaceful home you've been at for the past half a year.

You hear your phone rings and hum.

"Yeah?" You answer it.

"They're back! Should I tell Makkari to get you?" Phastos asks and you sigh.

"No need. I had my time here already. Do you think Sersei has room in her apartment? I'd rather just room with her and Sprite."

"I'll ask her. So you're done avoiding her?" You laugh at that.

"Never. I'll be there." You hang up and look around. "Goodbye, peace." You leave and never look back.

PS.

Posting this since it's sitting in my draft. Not finished yet but wanted to get it out.

#wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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delopsia · 1 year

Text

When Rhett's beloved belt buckle finally breaks, it's on your one-month anniversary.

He says he knew it was going to happen one of these days; the damn thing is older than the both of you combined, but when Rhett's got you up against the wall, the last thing you expect to hear is something metal clattering to the floor. In one smooth motion, the piece of steel that holds onto the belt has completely separated from the rest of the buckle.

You knew Rhett was going to be upset the day it finally happened, but you certainly didn't expect to find yourself kissing away the tears that spill onto his pale cheeks. It's the only thing he has of his grandfather, won in a rodeo back in '48. And even though you're not privy to all the Abbott family drama just yet, you know enough to understand that Perry got almost everything when the old man passed a few years back. Archaic first-born privileges, or whatnot. Probably would have gotten the buckle, too, if he'd ever been bold enough to climb on the back of a bull.

The two of you spend hours researching ways to fix it, but those YouTube tutorials only go so far, and the fix that works only lasts for three days before breaking again.

You've been dating Rhett for two and a half months when you come across a buckle in an online thrift shop. It's not quite as oversized and flashy as ol' faithful was and looks entirely different from what you usually see around Wabang. But it's complete with subtle engravings and a big, detailed bull skull in the center that just screams, "Rhett Abbott would wear this."

And so it winds up in your shopping cart; arrives five days later, nestled safely between the clothes you'd gotten as well. The pictures didn't do it any justice. You didn't pay a whole lot for it, but it doesn't look cheap in the slightest; in fact, it's the perfect example of what fine craftsmanship looks and feels like.

You're waiting to give it to him after the family dinner he's bringing you to; the perfect way to finish your first legitimate outing with the rest of his family. The buckle isn't heavy by any means, but it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds in your purse when you walk out the front door that day.

Rhett and Royal are already there, so low-maintenance that all they need to do is shower and change clothes. You're pretty sure you saw Cecelia doing her makeup in the passenger seat when you walked past, and God only knows if Perry and his wife will make it. Those two are lucky if they make it a mile down the road before getting into a spat.

Royal's talking so heatedly that he hardly notices your presence, "See, this is what I don't get," jamming his thumb toward a tourist standing in the checkout line, "Why do kids y'all's age think it's okay to be wearin' buckles they didn't win?"

Your smile falls, hits the floor with an ear-splitting shatter that only you can hear.

God, of course, you should have thought of that before you hit that dumb little purchase button. You can't give him this big hunk of metal if he didn't win it in the first place! Why didn't you ask first? Or research before letting your heart get ahead of your head?

"Y'alright?" Rhett's big, warm hand rubs the space between your shoulders, and for the briefest second, you wonder if he'd heard your smile shatter after all.

The first thing you do when you get home is bury that obnoxiously-shiny buckle in the back of your sock drawer. Rhett wins a new buckle a few months later, one deserving of being worn.

That hunk of embarrassment makes appearances every once in a blue moon. A couple times when you're fumbling around for a very particular pair. Once you wind up grabbing it simply because you've forgotten what it was, only to stuff it back the moment the memory bubbled back up to the surface.

And gradually, time flies by. A six-month anniversary date becomes a one-year, two years, three, four. The socks in your drawer are completely different from the ones you wore back then. There's a stack of ill-shot polaroids collecting in the bottom left corner because Rhett can't aim the camera to save his life.

You've moved house twice. Once into a rental to be closer to Rhett and again into a proper house together because his staying for the weekend and leaving early Monday mornings could only last so long. What's yours has become Rhett's, and you haven't thought twice about it.

"Damnit!"

Rhett's head pops up from beside the bed, eyes wide as can be, "What happened?"

"I only grabbed one sock again," you grumble, putting your shoe back on the floor. You haven't the slightest clue how you've done this three times in a row, but you have.

"'M sorry," Rhett's already reaching for your drawer, "I'm shit at gettin' them to stay together." But as his hand dips blindly into the array of socks, his expression shifts, nose scrunching, eyes darting from the socks to you.

And you... can't understand why he's looking at you like that. "What?"

Something hard scrapes against the wooden bottom as Rhett grabs ahold of it, something round and shiny that you don't ever recall seeing before.

Those handsome features soften as he realizes what's sitting in the palm of his hand. A carefully crafted hunk of metal that's spent the better half of four years hiding away amongst your socks.

"Rhett?"

"What's this?" Carefully, he lifts it for you to see.

The moment your eyes land on the familiar shape, you can feel them begin to widen. "That..." shit, why do you still have that thing? "It's just some...dumb thing I forgot to throw out."

Rhett's head cocks to the side, corners of his lips turning downward. Doesn't say anything just yet, but those deep blues hold a million and one questions as he turns it back and forth in his big, talented hands. Beneath his breath, he mutters, mainly to himself, "'s pretty."

Like a dam broken, your mouth begins to move, "I got it for you after your favorite buckle broke." You can't bring yourself to look at that old hunk of metal; instead, you find yourself staring down at the singular sock on your foot. "I didn't know that you can only wear buckles that you won until after I bought it."

"What moron told you that?" Quick, borderline incredulous.

"Royal," that name is bitter on your tongue for more than one reason, "he was saying something about it that first time I went out for dinner with your family."

Bare feet patter across the hardwood as Rhett comes around the bed, buckle in hand, catching in the light when he reaches out to cradle your cheeks. Looking him in the eye is the last thing you want to do, but you let him lift your head regardless.

"Can you do somethin' for me?" He hums, "Don't ever believe a damn thing that ol' bastard preaches 'bout."

That hadn't been the reaction you were expecting at all. "What do you mean?"

"There's an ol' rule that you don't wear buckles for a rodeo you didn't win," thumbs stroking your cheekbones, "but what Royal said was just him misinterpretin' shit so he can bitch."

Your eyes roll. "Well, you've already got a replacement, so it's not a big deal anyway."

All Rhett can do is hold up a big index finger, disappearing out of the bedroom without another word. Walks back in at the same time that you get the proper socks on your feet.

That buckle is the first thing you see. Standing proud on the front of his belt, remarkably small compared to the former one, and yet, the spitting image of what you imagined when you bought it all those years ago.

"I thought you liked your rodeo buckle?" Speaking mostly to yourself.

"I do," the bed dips as he settles down next to you, a million-dollar smile plastered across his face, "but I like this one better."

Four years. That buckle spent four years hiding away in the back of your sock drawer, nothing but a waste of money and a sour memory that arose every once in a while.

And now it's never spent a second off of Rhett's belt.

It goes with him on his rodeo circuits, glimmering in those towering stadium lights like a little cluster of stars. That old bull skull scratches against your palm on the nights you can't wait to get to the bedroom and leaves imprints on your skin when you sit in his lap. It's there for your anniversary dates and your just-because dates, and it gets polished for the special events that require finer attire.

Then you catch yourself one day, drumming your fingers against it, your head resting against Rhett's sturdy chest. Too tired to move but not tired enough to fall asleep, and it just flies out of your mouth, "Why do you like this buckle so much, anyway?"

Because you haven't forgotten how he used to obsess over his rodeo buckles. How hard he worked, and the injuries he suffered in pursuit of them. A dislocated shoulder, countless broken ribs, concussions, and a shattered ankle, just to name a few. And now those buckles do nothing more than sit up on a shelf he built, intended to do nothing but hold those old, dusty prizes.

Rhett hums, hot air blowing against your skin as he bumps his nose into your forehead, "Because you got it for me." Pauses to press a kiss into your scalp. "T's more special than any of them ol' premade buckles they hand out in rodeos."

"What if it was a PBR Champion buckle?" You can't see it, but you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin as he rolls his eyes.

"I'll make you wear that hypothetical buckle for me." Another kiss. "Because this one ain't comin' off, sweetheart."

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #outer range #outer range fic #outer range amazon #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #rhett abbott outer range #delgato's warmups

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capacityfornirvana · 17 days

Note

abc shows go forever 14+ seasons we could have years yet

I agree, and I think 9-1-1 could theoretically be one of them. But… I personally hope it doesn’t go on for too much longer.

Hear me out!

When shows get stretched out, actors start to get tired and wary about staying on for too long, especially when contracts expire and need to be renewed. Sure, not all. Some actors are more than happy to stay on for as long as possible. (Those residuals! Granted, residuals aren’t anything like what they used to be.)

But chances are, not all of them will feel so eager to stay. And when actors want to leave, especially in shows of this nature, characters are killed off, longtime pairings are split-up via irreversible trauma (separation, or again, killed off), and audiences really start to lose. Sure, a character may just simply get a job elsewhere and part ways with the group. But again, in shows of this nature, that is never a guarantee. It’s actually a miracle that no main or supporting cast members have been killed off, especially when we’re almost to season eight.

I would rather 9-1-1 end at, say, season 10 (or 11, if they really want to try pushing it), with its entire cast intact and properly developed, than end at season 14 or 20, with only a few veteran members still around and certain character storylines abruptly ending without a satisfying conclusion.

In the case of Buck getting to have a romantic partner that not only goes the distance with him, but is properly developed, the chances decrease every single season the writers decide to pair him up with yet another new love interest. I'm of the opinion that if they don't give Buck a longterm partner now, they may lose out on their chance altogether. If they are lucky, Oliver Stark will stay to the very end. But they don't have that guarantee, nor should they necessarily operate under the assumption that they do.

I haven't even touched on cancellations! What if ABC hadn't picked up 9-1-1 after it was cancelled? The story literally would have ended with Buck ending up with Natalia, who was barely even in the show. Do we want something like that? I don't.

And no, this isn't the only reason why I want Tommy to be Buck's endgame partner (it's not even in the top five), but I would be lying if I were to say it isn't a reason. I have been burned by way too many shows that didn't know when to quit while they were ahead, and many characters/relationships/storylines all suffered, as a result.

Just my two cents.

#911 abc #ask #anonymous #i’ve actually been thinking about this a lot so what a convenient ask to get in my inbox!#bucktommy #text

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ningningsdream · 1 year

Text

the villain in your story | part thirty three

work count: 2.2k

TUESDAY NIGHT

you lied on the living room's couch after having dinner with everyone. some went to their rooms to get some rest and others went to take their showers. you decided to stay on the couch because it was comfy, scrolling through your phone.

the first thing you did when you entered the kitchen area and spotted donghyuck was laugh. he was wearing an apron with fuchsia rubber gloves and it was just too funny for you to not laugh.

"you done?", donghyuck asked.

you looked back at him and laughed even more, holding your stomach. he had his fist on his hips, tongue poking his cheek and standing like that one jennie meme.

your laughing was so contagious that donghyuck ended up laughing with you.

"okay. okay. i'm good.", you said, trying to calm yourself down. you exhaled for five seconds managing to stop laughing but your face still adorned a big smile.

"come on, tell me what that jiwoo girl did to deserve your undeniable loyalty.", donghyuck said, starting to wash the mountain of dishes he had.

"well first, i believe a friend should be loyal? second, i've known her since freshman year, we go way back."

"so what? doesn't really explain why you're so defensive of her.", he retorted with a frown on his face from either your statement or the really persistent stain on the plate he was cleaning.

"she's a pretty sensitive kid.", you said, as if it was a line you've learned by heart throughout the years.

"she's a grown ass woman.", donghyuck deadpanned, making you let out a chuckle as it reminded you of something you could say.

"i'm just used to trying my best to make her life better, i guess."

"you know how that sounds, right?"

"pretty bad, now that i hear myself saying it out loud not gonna lie.", you said, earning a chuckle from him which transitioned into a laughter, "yah! stop laughing!", you exclaimed, hitting his arm.

both your attention then suddenly turned towards the kitchen entrance where jaemin just made his entry, "oh, you were here?", jaemin said, looking at you.

"yeah, i'm keeping him company.", you said, pointing to donghyuck.

jaemin looked at donghyuck then back at you and then back to donghyuck again before walking towards the fridge and taking a water bottle from it. he then exited the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"is it me or was that weird?", you asked, pointing in the direction jaemin was.

"it was not you and i'm gonna get my ass beaten.", donghyuck said, jokingly, but fear was clear in his eyes as he got lost in his thoughts on how jaemin could be really scary when he wanted to.

"why?"

"why do you think?"

the look in his eyes gave you all the answers you needed, "we're just friends.", you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time while rolling your eyes, even though the little kick in your heart disagreed with you.

"it is so clear that there's tension between the two of you that even a blind person would regain their sight to tell you that you look good together."

"i-", you hated to admit that he rendered you speechless.

"seriously, do you have feelings for him? romantic feelings."

once again you were speechless.

"i take that as a yes. then-"

"no!", you quickly interrupted him.

"no, you don't have feelings for him?"

"i...i don't know..."

in the most dramatic way, he stopped in his movements and turned towards you, an eyebrow raised, looking like he caught you stealing from his cookie jar, "so you do like him."

"woh, don't get ahead of yourself. i'm just saying i don't know how i feel towards him."

"which is basically saying that you do feel something for him."

"is it?"

"you won't know if you don't do anything. just go to your shared bedroom and kiss him. then you'll see if you feel something."

"i can't."

"what do you mean you can't? just move your short legs over to him.", the free slander made you gasped so hard it knocked all the air out of your lungs.

"yah! my legs are average, and really, i can't."

"why? you gay? sorry to break it to you but if-"

"nah it's not that. even though i do like my fair share of women."

"then what is it?", donghyuck asked as he rinsed the plates but seeing your hesitation he decided to push a little, "come oooonnn. spill the tea."

"mmmmhh... i don't know if i can trust you.", you said, squinting your eyes at him.

donghyuck let out the biggest gasp, dropping his rinsing and stopping the running water, "i am deeply offended."

"dude, i don't know you well and even jimin and minjeong don't know the full truth."

"oh my god, the tea must be really hot then.", he said, already excited about it.

you pushed him slightly, making him lose his balance and almost falling. you put your hand in front of your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

"come on, tell meeee. if you don't trust me we can make a blood oath right there and now.", he said, holding a knife up, still covered in dish soap foam.

you chuckled at the image of donghyuck in a hello kitty apron with hot pink gloves, holding a knife covered in foam and usually used for cutting steak, "just your words are enough but know that i'm big on loyalty. betray me and you'll deal with the consequences.", you said, pointing your finger almost in a threatening way.

"i swear.", he said, raising his right hand up.

"mmh...alright...", you started, still unsure, "i can't because my friend likes him.", you tried to stay vague to see if he'd get it.

he looked you in the eyes, trying to decipher your gaze, "jimin?", your deadpanned expression indicated to him that it wasn't the right answer. his brain worked faster to connect the dots. it couldn't be minjeong because she barely knew jaemin so the only person left was, "jiwoo?", you nodded, confirming his train of thoughts, "renjun did told me his suspicion but i just thought he was just kidding."

"yeah... she liked him since high school."

"high school??!", donghyuck almost shouted, which made you put your index on your lips to signal to him to keep it quiet, "high school??!", he repeated in a whisper, "wait- if you knew her since freshman year, and she had a crush on jaemin since her high school days, that means you were all in the same high school, which means we were in the same high school!"

"you knew jaemin back then too?"

"yeah."

you tried to remember with who jaemin used to hang out with but blank, your brain just remembered that he had his little group, "to be honest, i didn't know his entourage that much."

"i went by a nickname back then. haechan."

at the sound of his nickname, something clicked in your head. you remembered vague stories you would hear about that famous 'haechan' kid and some things you've seen with your own eyes, "no way! you were the kid that came to school with a bright red bowl cut wig!"

"yeah that was me!", he said, as excited as you.

"oh my god! it was hilarious. i probably have a picture of you i took of you back then somewhere."

"i can't believe we went to the same high school."

"i wasn't popular back then so no one really knew me except my friends and my back-then-boyfriend."

"the world is really small."

"indeed."

"so jiwoo likes him since high school and haven't even made a move on him yet? i mean, if she did, jaemin would have probably told us about it at some point."

"she didn't, well, she did try once but it didn't really end well. she didn't even show up."

"oh my god! are you talking about when he got stood up a few months ago?", donghyuck started putting the pieces of the puzzle together faster than you expected him to.

your face contorted in a painful expression at the memory as you nodded, "yeah. unfortunately, she was the culprit."

"did she even have an excuse?", you could hear the irritation in his voice. if he didn't like jiwoo before, now he hated her guts.

"she just said she couldn't do it. stress, anxiety or something else, i don't know. i didn't even have the time to talk to her about it that i was attacked for going on a 'date' with jaemin in her place."

"the audacity?? she had no rights??"

"that's what i said but as always she had lia, my other friend, backing her up and once again i'm the bad guy.", you sighed, feeling a heavy weight again on your shoulders.

donghyuck sent you a sympathetic look before asking, "why would she back her up when she was obviously in the wrong?"

"i guess it's because they know each other since kindergarten. like i said, jiwoo is a pretty sensitive person so lia is used to sticking up for her. it has always been like that.", you shrugged.

"i mean, jaemin and jeno knew each other way before we all met them and jeno will gladly call jaemin out on his bullshit, if renjun haven't done it first of course, and vice versa. this just screams lia and jiwoo against the world while you're supposed to be apart of the friendship too, you know?"

you nodded, agreeing with his words, "i'm realizing that as i'm getting to know other people outside my usual circle, but it also kind of hurts you know? like... realizing that i shouldn't have felt like that, that it wasn't normal to put up with what i did... but still not being able to walk away...", you started, tearing up as you talked, "i've known them for more than five years now, even if there were downs, there were also many ups and we went through a lot of things together as well. i don't want to throw that out the window."

"come here." donghyuck said, discarding his fuchsia gloves aside, long done with the dishes, and opening his arms. you accepted the gesture of comfort, wrapping your arms around his torso as he wrapped his around yours.

"my head is a mess, right now. if i end the friendship, i'll feel like the bad guy, if i keep the friendship, i'm still going to feel like the bad guy. if i try something with jaemin, i feel like the bad guy and if i don't i'm still going to end up feeling like the bad guy. there's just no escape."

"you know, you can't always be the good guy in everyone's life. you're bound to be the villain in someone's story. it doesn't make you someone bad though, it's just impossible to please everyone at the same time, yourself included."

you sniffed, bringing your hands to yourself to quickly wipe the two tears that were threatening to fall down and said, "thanks, hyuck."

"anytime.", he replied, patting your head.

"we should probably go to bed if we want to wake up on time tomorrow.", you said, pulling away from him and running a hand through your hair in attempt to recompose yourself.

donghyuck nodded in agreement and you two went your separate ways, wishing each other a goodnight.

you went to the bathroom for your night routine before going to bed. you checked your reflection and thankfully you didn't cry enough for your eyes to get really red and puffy. after your talk with donghyuck, your shoulders did feel lighter as you could finally fully talk about this with someone without tip toeing and being careful about not giving out too much information, but your head felt kind of dizzy due to all the thoughts running through your mind.

when you went back into your room, you expected jaemin to be sleeping but he wasn't. he was just lying on his side of the bed, scrolling through his phone, "oh hey, you aren't sleeping yet?"

"i wasn't that tired yet.", jaemin replied, that little bounce of happiness missing from his voice, which you assumed was from the fatigue kicking in.

you nodded, making your way to your side of the bed and laid down.

"you alright?", he suddenly asked. your heart almost stopped beating as you wondered if he heard the conversation you had with donghyuck, "you look kind of down."

he didn't hear anything. he was just that perceptive of a person. especially when it came to you.

"i'm just tired, i ran around a lot today.", you lied with a smile, "goodnight, jaemin."

"goodnight.", he replied, watching you close your eyes.

he knew you were lying, and even though he didn't know why, he concluded that it had to do with your conversation with donghyuck. he couldn't help himself but feel a little jealous when he saw the two of you laughing together in the kitchen. he too wanted to spend some time alone, one-on-one with you and get to know you better.

main masterlist | tviys masterlist

pairing: fem!oc x barista!jaemin, fembarista!reader x barista!jaemin

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, barista!au, sns au

summary: girls' code prevents you from liking the guy your friend likes right?

a/n: not me waking up to dreamies having liike a whole event in santa monica where they interacted with fans for free, from up close??? am i jealous? yes, but im also happy for the ones that got to see them, especially if they couldn't go to the concert!

taglist: [@glamourizz @rinrinslovebot @beomibeom @moonjobf @hiqhkey @calssunflower @donghyuckster @vianna99 @kookiedesi @baehaechannie @nshimura @thiccfullsun @dear-dreamie @neobowlingshoez @jjaehmins @liliansun @bythe8 @hyuckrec @dearlyminhyung @ohmygs-blog @hoeshi17 @wonupuppy @shan-oldham @jeongintwt @renjunoya @najm00]

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Snowball Princess: Choices

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, fluff at the end

A/N: Hoseok's enlistment has given me the big sad.

Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"I want to.. file in for independent living." You say quietly after the deafening silence got too much for you to handle. Your voice is still raspy from emotions as you'd tried to really keep it together when seeing Hoseok off for his military service - though you ultimately failed.

The topic of living independently had been on your mind ever since Seokjin enlisted - the whole reality of times changing and people leaving really hitting you hard.

"Do the others know?" Taehyung asks quietly, watching you as you just stare out the window, familiar scenery passing by. You shake your head.

"Its.. I don't know how to approach it." You simply mumble, making him nod.

"Can I ask why? Why you've been thinking about it, I mean." He gently asks, gaining no answer from you for a while, eyes quietly tearing up again.

"I.. you know, I often wish I'd met you guys sooner." You explain quietly, still not looking at anything but outside. "So I could've spent more time with you."

"There's still a lot of time ahead, sweetheart." He reminds you, reaching out to tuck some hair out of the jacket you're wearing- Hoseoks, just like you wore Jin's for quite a while after he left.

"Is there?" You ask, and by now, he can hear you sniffling again and spots the way your tears reflect on the mirrored image in the car's window you're looking out of. "Its all falling apart though, isn't it?" You question no one in particular.

"They'll be back before you know it. We'll all come back." He tries reassuring you, but you just nod- confusing him for a second.

"But things are still changing, aren't they?" You turn your face towards him, and he can't help but break a little at your defeated face, eyelashes all soaked in sadness. "You're not gonna stay like this forever." You explain yourself. "You're already living apart, it's only a matter of time until you all start families of your own. I'd.. rather go before that happens, you know, so you don't feel like you've got some.. obligation towards me." You tell him. "It was fun while it lasted, though."

"You know I won't say no if it's what you really want." Taehyung makes sure you know, before he smiles softly. "But I'm also very much going to keep my promise. You'll always have a spot in my family, no matter how much time changes things." He offers kindly, and you nod.

He did make that promise, over and over and over again over the course of the years.

"I know." You simply answer, before turning to look outside. "But.. maybe it's best to start living on my own now." You say.

"You do know we all love you, right?" He asks, and you nod.

"I know." You nod, but he shakes his head.

"No, I guess I need to rephrase that." He chuckles. "You do know we're all in love with you, right?" He asks more clearly now, and at that, you turn towards him, a devastated look on your face.

"I'm not a good future though." You explain with a soft giggle. "I won't have children, I won't be able to marry, and I'll die long before you guys." You say, reminding him of the grim reality no one really thinks of with hybrids.

Hybrids don't have a life expectancy as long as humans have. And it's not just five or maybe ten years- the oldest living Hybrid currently is a Swedish cat-hybrid, merely 51 years old. And she's already blind and almost deaf, senses and body failing her.

You don't want them to witness you waste away like this.

"We're all aware of these things." Taehyung reassures though. "Those things aren't new. I know that right now, emotions are pretty high- but please think about it once more when you're more calm, princess." He says, reaching for your hand. "And keep in mind that you'll always have a space with us, no matter what changes. Jin-hyung has furnished an entire room for you at his house, no?" He offers, and you shrug, before nodding.

Seokjin did do that for you.

It had been a complete surprise to you when he'd showed it to you, proudly telling you that you can always stay with him if you'd like.

"And I do too. The room where the windows-"

"-where the windows let the sunrise in." You chuckle with a sob, nodding. It's your favorite.

"And Jungkookie basically got almost all your stuff at his place!" He chuckles now too, glad he's seemingly cheering you up with his approach. "Every time you're staying at one of the members places, the first thing I hear is-"

"I have to get my stuff from Jungkook." You finish the sentence, smiling to yourself. You do have most of your things at Jungkooks place. Your clothes, books, games, toys and even things like bodywash and toothpaste. You're pretty much living with him at this point, the more you think about it.

"And Yoongi-hyung trusts you with his studio password. He's got the couch and everything in there just for you- even though he wanted to throw that old thing out." He nods to himself. The couch had been from the old dorms you all shared- and while he didn't want it at first, you clung to it due to emotional value.

So he kept it, for you.

"Hoseok-hyung knows all your medical dates. Hes like a walking book full of your most important things- allergies, vaccine dates, doctors appointments." He chuckles. "And Namjoon-hyung has all your paperwork at his place. Everyone always thinks of you, by nature. You're a fixed part in our lives, and that'll never change." He tells you, and you nod, car coming to a stop as the driver gets out to let both Taehyung and you out.

The man smiles politely at you- his face familiar as hes worked for the company and the band for longer than you've been with them. "And if they don't want you, I'll take you." He jokes, making you and Taehyung laugh out loud for a second, before you hear the first one of the other members call out to you in alarm at the sight of your tears.

"Oh puppy, it's okay." Jungkook offers, already jogging up to you to hug you tightly. His hugs are always tight. He always squeezes you a little. But that's fine.

"We're all staying at Yoongi's tonight, right?" Jimin asks, and Yoongi shrugs.

"I don't know, sure." He answers, while Jungkook sways you in his grasp, cheek resting on top of your head.

"We're gonna have to pick up some stuff of hers from Jungkook's place though " Namjoon says-

And you laugh together with Taehyung, last of your tears dripping down onto the ground.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #ot7 hybrid fanfic #ot7 hybrid imagine #ot7 fic #ot7 x reader #ot7 imagine

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jasontoddsdarling · 4 months

Text

barbecue day (feat damian)

— aurora todd verse

"Well it's not."

"It is, Todd. I know it's kind of hard for you to understand, but it is."

"It's not—"

She is in the kitchen, cutting some condiments for some sambal to go along with chicken thighs and tomahawk steaks that Jason is currently roasted over portable grills in backyard.

But he's apparently bickering with Damian—who is visiting from his university's summer break, who's helping here and there but mostly supervising Aurora, which she has provided with entertainment in the form of her inflatable pool and her baby toys.

The thing is, they've been bickering for like ten minutes straight. She's pretty sure their closest neighbor know what they are arguing about already—meanwhile she only caught something about latest episode of some sci-fi show and latest video game update because she was chopping garlic with her new chopper and it drown their voices for her.

She needs to make sure that they get along.

And oh, how she has an idea.

As she wash her hands, she can hear them becoming more louder.

When she is finally opened the kitchen door towards the backyard, she finds out Jason's making gesture with his free hand and his other gripping kitchen tongs and Damian, which is inside Rora's inflatable balloon, making gestures with his hands holding some of her baby girl's toys.

If this isn't comical.

She clears her throat.

"Jay."

Jason instantly stops talking and Damian too—but not without drawing out his last syllables.

Damian immediately sits down on inside the pool.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Jason is back facing the grill, flipping some of the chicken thighs. You want to roll your eyes in affection.

"I need you and Damian to buy me some Thai chili and lemongrass."

"I thought we already have all the ingredients."

"Well, we actually were underestimating the need of several sambals."

Jason basically can't say no to her request, so he just drops the kitchen tongs and cleans his hands on the nearby outdoor faucet. Then, he picks up Rora from inside the pool.

Damian gets up, eyeing the grill—probably about to take over Jason's work. But she claps her hand seemingly to surprise her brother-in-law.

"Damian, why don't you go with Jay and Rora? I can handle the grill."

"How much she said she needs the lemongrass again?"

Damian asks when they're at the last traffic light before the grocery store. He's the one driving. Jason's shotgunning and Rora is on her baby chair on the backseat.

"Five stalks, but she also said just pick one plastic wrap building."

"And—"

"Ten ounces."

"Ons!"

Rora mimics, which surprised Damian.

"Thank you, Rora."

When it's green, he starts talking again—while Jason is currently turning to face Rora, giving her grubby little hands her a baby biscuit.

"I cannot believe she's your spawn, Todd."

"Me neither."

Jason looks ahead—back to the street in front of them afterwards, but Damian can see from the corner of his eye that he sports a fondly smile because they're talking about his niece.

"I actually think she acts more like her mom and the biggest evidence that she's yours is because she literally have your eye color, which is improbable for it to come from her mom's genetics because her eyes are dark and her heritage; but now I can see that she behaves like you, too."

Jason definitely isn't prepared to hear his little brother saying all of that, but he turns his head to the

"Really?"

"Yup. Believe me or not, before we were bickering—which I am sure why your wife sent us away, if you haven't noticed yet—I was inspecting how you and Rora interacts."

"Of course you did."

Damian dismisses his older brother.

"And from that, I can see that she's your mini you. I mean, she's obviously her mom's mini me, but it's not without you."

"That's genuinely the nicest thing you said to me today, little brother, and I appreciate that."

The twenty-one years old man shrugs.

"Don't thank me. I was just saying facts. Anyway, we're here."

Damian stops the engine and opens his car door. He goes to the backseat door to release and hoist Rora from her seat.

Jason definitely can see his smile before opening his own door, though.

"What's this sambal called again?"

Damian points his fork at the chopped herbs and Thai chili bowl of sambal.

They already finished cooking and are sitting together in a round backyard dinner table.

"Matah. M-a-t-a-h."

"Matah," Damian nods, "it's so fresh and fragrant from the kaffir lime leaves and the lemongrass. I like it. It's unlike anything I have ever tried."

"We can put it in a jar if you want to have some when you're going back to to uni, right, Jay?"

"Of course. You should send him your recipe too, so if he runs out he can make it himself. It's quite easy to make."

"Thank you."

Damian smiles gratefully at her and Jason. She almost cannot believe these two were bickering like teenage boys awhile ago. That's just what being siblings like, she guesses.

"Easy! Uncy!" Rora giggles. She's perches on her baby high chair beside her mom and face to face with Damian. Her little fingers holding a piece of cucumber that she's chewing.

(She is pleased she picks up "uncle" when she's talking to Damian)

"Thank you, little Rora."

mariea's notes: another writing out of aurora todd universe. randomly, "cannot believe she's your spawn" line came into my mind and then the rest is history. i know this series(?) don't have much readers compared to my regular fluff or especially regular smut (lol) but i really love exploring the dynamics of this family throughout my writings. also, trying the third person now. probably going to stick to this. as always you can drop a request (any) or a question and thanks for reading <3

#jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd's kid oc #aurora todd #kid oc #mariea's fics #mariea's writing #queue <3 #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female reader #jason todd drabbles

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 50: Gone ✍️📲

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: THE MOLE IS REVEALED. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGST AND FLUFFFFFFFFF. mentions of pregnancy, Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo (he deserves his own warning) a bit of jealousy and... big ASS DRAMA AT THE END.

A/N: Am I sorry? Not really. Hope you enjoy the pain :)

Follow @jinxlibrary for updates!

Masterlist on pinned!

Jake leaves the phone on the table and looks around, searching for any familiar faces from his childhood or maybe an unfamiliar one that shouldn't be here at the moment.

Gregory always said that you should rely on the same people to take care of the "delicate matters”. That meant that you couldn't just go around hiring people to follow your target. It's troublesome. If someone went to follow him, Jake would know. There's only one guy who would do such a job in his father's name.

Nobody knew his real name, but they called him Vlad. He wasn't Russian, nor did he look like one, but Jake never asked about the meaning behind it. He couldn’t care less. Vlad had a terrible scar on his left eye, but by some miracle, he wasn't blind. If that guy was around, he would know. Jake's worst fear was turning around one day and seeing Vlad standing behind him. He was his father's left hand.

But Vlad wasn't here.

"Jake?" Mickey asks, following his eyes around the bar.

"Someone's listening to our conversation."

"Man, the only other person here except the Daggers is Joe, and he's in his late 60s."

Jake looks at Mickey, scanning his face. "Then who told my father that we were talking about all the food we had on the Fourth of July?" Jake whispers, not wanting to reveal to whoever is listening what he knows.

Mickey frowns, searching around the table and napkin dispenser. He presses a finger to his lips and looks under the wooden surface. He’s looking for a microphone. This is their designated table, the one that Penny always reserves for them. It could be easy to just leave a microphone somewhere and hear everything the group says.

But there's nothing.

"Hey hermano, can I take your phone for a sec? Mine just died."

"Sure, go ahead." Jake unlocks it and hands it to him, with Mickey wasting no time in looking around his apps as if he were looking for something. "Man, how many kid apps do you have?"

"Red has even more. I only have…" Jake takes a moment to count in his mind. "Four."

"Well, it makes sense that you have so many." But Mickey’s words don't match his expression, as he raises his hand, palm open and fingers spread, and vocalizes 'five'.

There's an app that shouldn't be there. Jake takes the phone and looks at it. No, he doesn't remember getting that app. Jake shakes his head, and Mickey takes the phone back, dropping it inside his own beer mug. He takes Jake by the arm and goes to the bar.

"They were listening to you." Mickey informs, looking at his own phone to check for any unknown apps.

"Can an app have access to all my phone's data?"

"Yeah, texts, calls, emails, and photos—and some of them can listen to you the whole time. Did you have problems with the battery?"

Jake blinks, realizing that the reason his phone is always running low on battery isn't because it's old, but because this damned app is working all the time. "Yeah, I did."

"Now you know why."

"But how did that app get onto my phone?"

"Someone with skills who knows your phone number can download it remotely on your phone."

"I change my phone number regularly so he doesn't find me," Jake points out, a rule he followed for the last twenty years of his life.

"He texted you in Hawaii, Jake. He had your phone number." Mickey recalls, running a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. "Shit, they know Liam's schedule."

"What?"

"It was on the group chat. They know."

"Who has Liam now?" Jake pats his pockets, looking for his car keys.

"Nat and Ames are here, Penny is working so… Mav." Liam is not safe, nor is Mav either.

"I need to go. Where's Red?" Just as he finishes his question, he sees you coming out of the bathroom, followed by the other two girls. "Red, come on, we need to leave."

You look at him with wide eyes, and your voice trembles when you speak. "W-why, what's happening?"

"Jake had a parental control app installed on his phone that he didn’t download. It was spyware."

"Holy shit. They've been listening?" Ames asks, looking at her own phone to see if there's any app that shouldn't be there.

"Liam's schedule." You say, grabbing Jake's arm. "We need to leave, now."

Both of you run to Jake's car, while you unlock your phone to check if you also have an app that shouldn't be there. Nothing is out of place.

"How did you find out?" You ask once the two of you are on the road.

"Gregory texted me talking about the amount of food we ate on the Fourth of July."

"Son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry, sweets. This is all my fault."

"Jake Seresin, if you apologize one more time for something that is not your fault, I will punch you."

"Please, don't. You have a serious right hook."

You get to Mav's in no time; the pilot and the kid are playing with the dogs in the living room. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. He’s okay. Your baby is okay.

"It's too soon for you to come get Liam, did something happen?" Mav asks, getting up from the floor and dusting off his pants.

"There was an app on my phone listening to everything."

"Okay… I'll delete you from every group chat before we start planning Liam's schedule again." Mav says, grabbing his phone. You look at Liam, who is lying on the floor with Milo’s head over his tummy. Milo is like the brother Liam doesn’t have. Yet.

You try not to touch your belly because you don't want anyone else to discover that you're pregnant. Things are hard enough as they are.

“I’m gonna call a friend.” You say, knowing that maybe you should have done this before, but there was already an NCIS agent taking care of the case, so you didn’t think it was necessary.

“Do you think someone can help us?” Jake puts his hand on your lower back and presses his lips to your temple as he murmurs. “I just want this whole mess to end.”

“Don’t worry. He’s the best.”

“Okay, what’s happening?” Jake asks, closing the oven door after putting the pizza inside.

You blink, looking at him with a surprised expression. You drop the t-shirt you've been folding, and push Liam’s backpack to the side. He’s going to stay a few days with Penny and Mav while you and Jake help DiNozzo and McGee solve this fucking drama. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we came back home, Red.”

Yeah, you have. You keep thinking about whether you should tell him about the baby or not. If you do, Jake will try to leave you out of this. Maybe he will leave again to protect you. And you can't afford that.

You sigh, looking down. "It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about everything he might have heard through your phone."

He closes the distance between you two, his calloused fingers lifting your chin. "There's more than that. You can't lie to me, Red."

You close your eyes and take a shaky breath, silently telling him that something is bothering you. “It’s too soon, I haven’t gone to the doctor yet. I need to check if everything is okay, and then...”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jake holds your face between his hands, kissing your forehead. “Breathe, sweets. Why do you need to go to the doctor? Are you sick?”

You shake your head, hot tears fall on the tips of his thumbs. You can’t lie to him. He missed every day of your first pregnancy. He needs to know. He deserves to know that there’s someone more worth fighting for.

“You’re scaring me.” He mutters, his voice thick and hoarse.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant.” He repeats, and you open your eyes, and you can see in him a mirror of your own emotions. Scared and excited in equal parts. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

He laughs, his eyes welling up with tears as he gazes at your stomach. “We’re gonna have another baby.”

“Yes.” You start laughing with him, wiping his tears away. “Ames says that your aiming skills are legendary.”

Jakes snorts, hugging you tightly. “Hawaii, right?”

You nod, inhaling his perfume. There’s no safer place at this moment than in his arms. “Everyone was right; we made a baby on our honeymoon.”

He kisses your lips softly and kneels down, his hands on your hips. “Hi, princess. I can’t wait to meet you.”

You run your fingers through his locks, chuckling. “You don’t know if it’s gonna be a girl.”

“Shhhh, don’t listen to mama. Of course you are a sweet princess.” He says, lifting your t-shirt and kissing your stomach. “Now you gotta be a good girl and stay there for the next eight months.”

“I still have to go to the doctor, you know.”

“We’ll go tomorrow.” He gets up from the floor, kissing you passionately. His right hand caressing your belly. “We’re having another baby, oh my god.”

“Let’s wait a bit until we tell Liam. I want to make sure that the baby is okay.” He nods, grinning like he just won the lottery. He walks to the oven, his movements looking more like dance moves than actual steps. He’s gleaming with joy. How can someone look so cute while taking a pizza out of the oven? “You look like a kid who just got new toys.”

"I have a new baby; of course I'm excited."

A knock on the door pulls you out of your bubble. Liam looks at you, and you signal him to come with you, Milo following the kid. Jake moves to the door slowly, and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. The doorbell rings, and you grab the nearest thing, which happens to be a pan, ready to hit whoever walks through that door.

“Red? It’s me, DiNozzo.” A muffled male voice says from the other side of the door.

“Jesus, Tony.” You open the door and see the brunette standing in front of you. McGee is right behind him with an awkward smile. You nod in his direction with a tight smile of your own. Maybe you should have told Jake that you and McGee had something in the past. “Hey McGee.”

“Red.” He nods. Yeah, things are still a bit awkward.

“I didn’t expect you for another hour.” You mutter, moving to the side so they can enter.

“When you told me that your kid was in danger, I got on the first plane I could. That’s what cousins are for, right?”

Jake looks at you with a frown. “He’s your cousin?”

“Not really. His father and my father were cousins.” You explain, feeling Liam’s hand on your leg. You look down, smiling at your son. “Hey baby, can you say hi to these gentlemen?”

“Hello, I’m Liam.” He mutters, making Tony kneel down and offer his hand to the kid.

“Hello, Liam. My name is Tony. And this guy here is Timmy.”

“Hi, Tony. Hi, Timmy” Liam waves, and McGee’s expression softens immediately. Yeah, nobody can resist Liam’s cuteness.

“Bubs, can you go give Milo some water? I think he’s thirsty.” Jake says, brushing Liam’s blonde locks out of his face.

“Milo you want water?” Liam asks the dog, who just barks, and they both leave to get some water.

“Well, now we can talk.” Jake says, signaling the couch. “Please sit down. I’m Jake, Red’s husband.”

“I would have loved to meet you under better circumstances, but...” Tony sits on the couch, patting the seat next to him, and looks at McGee. “Guess this will have to do for now.”

“Well, tell us all you know. We’ve read Walters’ report, so we know the important info. Jake is Jacob St. James, the heir that ran away when he was 17, Gregory planned James Seresin’s murder…” DiNozzo lists all the important events of the case, looking at the two of you and waiting, in case you want to add something.

“He had someone following Red’s every step for three years.” Jake says while sitting next to you.

“You have proof?”

“He sent me pictures. But... he apparently had spyware installed on my phone. Could have erased everything by now.”

“Where’s the phone?” McGee asks, getting his laptop out of his bag. He starts typing something with one hand, the other one extended in Jake's direction, palm facing up.

You get up, and get a zip-top plastic bag from the counter. It’s filled with rice and Jake’s phone. You place the bag in his hand, prompting the blonde agent to raise an eyebrow. “Our friend dropped it inside a beer mug.”

“You could’ve turned it off.” DiNozzo says, poking the bag.

“No, Tony. It doesn’t work like that. Once the spyware is installed on the phone, it can work even when the phone is turned off.”

“Okay, McGoogle. Thanks for the info.” He pats McGee’s back and turns to the both of you. "Well, he's been listening. Anything else?"

"Someone followed us on our honeymoon and sent a photo to our boss. He wanted to kick one of us out. My guess is that he wanted Jake to be left alone here, but Admiral Kazansky offered me an instructor position and we’re allowed to be together this way.” You explain, playing with your wedding band, a habit you have picked up again during this last month.

“Have you been directly threatened by him?” McGee questions, this time looking directly at you.

Jake coughs, not liking the stares that McNerd is giving you. “He told me he was giving me a last chance.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Then we must work quickly. He might act very soon.” Tony gets up from the couch and grabs his bag. “Do you have a place where we can stay?”

“We don’t have room here, and the couches are small…” You look at Jake, an idea popping in your mind. “Hey, you still have your house keys, right?”

“Yeah, legally I still live there because we’re not married, you know.” He stands up, walking to the little table where you two leave your keys once you enter the house, and grabs his keys. “Come, guys. I’ll show you where it is. It’s only three blocks away.”

McGee gathers his things, giving Tony the bag of rice. There’s something comical about the way he looks at the bag.

“Red.” Jake calls out for you, nodding towards the kitchen. You follow him, ignoring the little voice in the back of your mind that is telling you that he shouldn’t leave the house. Not now. “So… why is this guy looking at you like he came out of Bridgerton and he couldn’t believe that the love of his life got married to another man?”

“Are you comparing McGee to Anthony Bridgerton?” You snort, covering your mouth to not laugh.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird. Did something happened between you two?”

The small, tremulous tone of his voice tells you more than his words. “It was before I met you, and it didn’t work out. He was in Washington, I was deployed all the time…”

“So there’s no feelings left?”

You grab his hand, your thumb caressing the warm platinum band in his ring finger. “Jacob, I will crawl to the end of the world to be with you if I had to. There won’t be anyone else. Ever.”

“I’m the only one who crawls here, love. Queens don’t do that.” He smirks, pulling you close by the belt loops of your pants to kiss you. “Imma get those two to my house. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be careful, okay? I don’t have a good feeling about this.” You mutter, your eyes traveling all over his face, as if it were the last time you’ll be able to do it.

“I’ll be three blocks away. Nothing will happen. I promise.” He kisses your cheek and pats Liam’s head, before getting out of the house with McGee and DiNozzo.

It only takes the group of men a few minutes to get to the house. Jake helps McGee with his bags, carrying them to the door.

“Are you sure you can prove that he’s behind all this?” Jake finally asks the question he’s been having in his head all day since you told him that you were calling a friend.

“Walters managed to get a lot of information about your grandpa’s case, he has proof that the accident was planned, but he didn’t manage to get anything that pointed in his direction. I mean, Gregory planned a big funeral for him.” DiNozzo says, explaining the difficulties of the case. They don’t have witnesses, or a direct link with Gregory or SJAC.

“What if I made him confess?” Jake’s suggestion makes both agents freeze in their tracks.

“You want to meet him?” McGee implies, shaking his head. “We came here to protect you, not to allow you to put yourself in danger.”

“I have a family to protect. I could go to his house, trick him into thinking that I’m going back with him, and make him confess everything. I’ll wear a mic. It’s the best plan.” Jake assures them, groaning at the way both agents mutter a resounding no to his plan. “It’s the only way, and you know it.”

“We’ll find a plan that doesn’t involve my cousin being left without a husband. Now, can you please open up the door?”

“Sometimes you have to take risks.” Jake opens the door, lighting the house, and leads them to the main bedroom. “This one has a big bed. The other one is small. Liam’s size. So you’ll have to share this one.”

“Not again.” McGee mutters, dropping his bags on the bed. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

“It’s the least I can do. Come home for breakfast tomorrow, there’s no food in here.” Jake offers, patting DiNozzo’s back. “Let me check if the fridge still works; it was giving me a hard time before I moved to Red’s house.”

Jake walks to the kitchen, thinking about the cold pizza that’s waiting for him when he gets back home. He sighs—maybe it’s not too late to order some takeout. Something catches Jake’s eye. The backdoor of the house is open. And there’s a black box on the counter.

That shouldn’t be there.

“Guys?” Jake calls them, and Tony appears behind him, gun in hand, looking everywhere.

“What happens?”

“That box shouldn’t be there.” Jake looks at it. It’s too small to have an explosive, smaller than a phone. The biggest thing it could fit would be a pendrive. Jake grabs the box with shaky hands, opening it slowly.

Jake starts running before the box can hit the floor. McGee kneels, grabbing the object that fell from the black box.

It’s a chess piece.

A red queen.

Jake runs faster than he’s ever done it in his life. There’s no time to get the car, and he doesn’t even have the keys. He decided to leave his own car at home and make the small trip in DiNozzo's.

He should have listened to you. You had a bad feeling. You somehow knew that this was the opportunity Gregory had been waiting for. He had been waiting until one of you found a solution to all your problems, giving the two of you a false sense of hope and making you feel that everything was going to end soon, just so he could take everything away from Jake.

How could he have been so stupid?

He trips on his own feet, almost falling to the floor, but he stops the fall with his hands, getting up quickly. His lungs are screaming at him to stop running, twinges of pain leaving him breathless, begging him to stop and catch some air, but he can’t. That red queen pointed at you, and if something happens to you, he won’t forgive himself.

He can’t lose you and his little girl.

He can’t.

Jake finally sees his home, the lights are turned off, and that scares him. He pulls out the.38 Special revolver he'd been carrying on his ankle for the past month and takes a few deep breaths to relax before entering the house.

He wants to call out for you, but that’s a rookie mistake. He can’t make his presence known.

Milo emerges from Liam's room, limping and grunting at Jake until the animal realizes it's not an intruder, but his owner. Jake crouches and pats the dog’s side, feeling him. The dog whines when Jake’s fingers touch a certain spot. Someone has kicked Milo.

That’s when Jake notices your unconscious body lying on the floor.

No. No. No. No. No.

“Red?” He holds your body in his arms, looking around to see any wounds, any signs of blood, or anything else. “Babe, come on, wake up. Wake up, please.”

You grunt, opening your eyes slowly until you focus on him, and then your eyes open wide in pure terror. “Liam.” You whisper, getting up from the floor and running to his room while holding the back of your head in pain.

But there’s no one in his room.

Your baby is not there.

He’s gone.

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman top gun #hangman seresin x reader

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arionawrites · 6 months

Text

dear big sister,

your birthday was this month. i didn't say happy birthday. i don't know how to reach out to you. i don't know how to talk to you. i don't remember the last time you said happy birthday to me. i don't know if you remember when it is. i don't want to assume that you don't but i can't think of a single reason to believe that you do.

dear big sister,

i have two little siblings. i don't know if i should say that i have two little siblings or if i should say that we have two little siblings. one of them is nine and the other is five. neither of them recognize your name when i say it. they are my entire world. they give me reason. grandma called them my kids when i was visiting her last week. i helped raise them as much as i could before moving out and continue to do what i can while going to see them as often as possible. i call. i chaperone field trips. i show up.

dear big sister,

i wish you had shown up. when i was twelve my entire life fell apart and all i wanted was something familiar. you were still familiar despite having moved out two years prior and me hardly seeing you since. i wanted you there, even if it was just to pick me up and take me away for a few hours. i would have loved those hours with you.

dear big sister,

i almost died when i was fourteen. i know you know this. i know dad told you. i know he said no to visitors because i was in the ICU and it was scary and touch-and-go and his intentions were good, he didn't want to overwhelm me or himself or my (our?) little sister, who wasn't even a year old at the time and couldn't understand why she wasn't allowed to lay in bed with me like i always let her do at home. i know you made a post on facebook. i left the hospital. that post was the only thing i got from you.

dear big sister,

i am the big sister now and it is the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love them with every single piece of who i am. i would do anything in the world to make them feel happy and loved.

dear big sister,

i find it hard not to wonder why you don't love me like that.

dear big sister,

congratulations on getting married. i'm sorry i'm only saying this now. i'm sorry that i'm not saying it to you directly. i didn't know you were getting married until after it already happened.

dear big sister,

i still remember you calling me my senior year of high school and saying you would love to go to my graduation. it was the first time i had spoken to you in at least a year or two. when the call ended, i sat down and i cried because i was so happy. why didn't you call again to tell me you couldn't make it? you had my number. it would have sucked to hear after getting so excited, but i would have understood, and i would have preferred to know ahead of time, even if it would have hurt.

dear big sister,

i can't imagine not going to my (our?) little siblings graduations. i can't imagine not seeing them on their birthdays. i can't imagine spending the holidays without them. going more than a week without seeing them makes me anxious.

dear big sister,

is it me? is that why you never felt like this? is it my fault that you don't love me like i love them? did i do something wrong?

dear big sister,

i don't know when (or if) i'll get married, but i will invite you even though i don't know if you'd actually come. i want you to be there.

dear big sister,

i wanted you to be at my graduation, too.

dear big sister,

i told my therapist that i want to process my traumas and get better, and then i told her that i was scared, too. when she asked me why, i told her that i'm afraid that part of getting better means having conversations i'm afraid to have, conversations that could put strain on my relationships. that i'm scared to track down your number and give you a call and try to explain all of this and have you get angry, get upset, or, worst of all, confirm my worst fears of you having never seen me as a sister at all. my therapist told me that i don't need to have those conversations. she said that i need closure and that there are ways to find closure that don't involve that confrontation.

dear big sister,

i am writing this to you and i hope you never see it. i am trying to find closure to this constant gnawing resentment that only serves to make me feel guilty for being angry. i do not want to be angry. i do not want to resent you.

dear big sister,

happy late birthday.

#ariwrites #chaperoned for my baby sister today #she's in fourth grade #the big sister this post is about moved out when i was in fourth grade #my baby sister is going to remember that when she was in fourth grade i showed up and i wanted to be there #when i look back at fourth grade there are only two things i think of #1. that's the year i decided i want to be an author #and 2. that's the year that this big sister left and never came back #ariwrites: dear [person]

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castieldelamancha · 7 months

Text

3 days later.

The sound of the empty beer bottle he just sent rolling across the bedroom's floor knocking against the doorframe fills the silence around him.

It's almost a living thing this silence, Dean tiredly thinks to himself, it's pressing down on him, sucking out all the air in the room, asphyxiating him.

It's outside, but, to what would be Dean's horror if it wasn't because of the numbness that has taken over him, it's also inside of him, in his head, in his very soul. His own melody, a jumble mess of chords, a mix of gloom notes and bright tunes, seems to be over, now that what had felt for years as its companion piece is gone.

He must be going insane with this grief he feels, he has started to wonder if the darkness might had taken him too.

He lets his head fall backwards, resting it against Castiel's perfectly made bed. The emptiness of this space only seems to add to the silence around him. Don't get him wrong, there is furniture here, but no life, no soul, like Cas never existed, like he was a product of his imagination.

He stares up at the ceiling, he reminds himself he has to wash his jacket, get the blood out of it. He shakes his head. He was there, that's all the proof he needs to convince himself it was all real. Dean himself is still here, breathing and moving, he wouldn't say alive, but he is also proof it was all real.

He doesn't know how he has ended up here, in Castiel's room, sitting on the cold, unforgiving, floor by the bed, drinking the last drops of a beer that tasted like shit and that brought him no comfort.

He doesn't think there is something out there that can comfort him now, unless the wall would open right now and spit Cas out same way it swallowed him.

It doesn't happen of course.

He wonders if Cas can hear him, he doesn't think so.

"One last miracle," he says anyway, "fuck, I know I have asked for so much from you over the years," he struggles to swallow past the lump forming in his throat and he welcomes it, welcomes the tears he can feel filling up his eyes, because it's better to feel this sadness that nothing at all, "know you have sacrificed so much for me, for us, for this world; but Cas, I need one miracle, I need you back."

There are so many things Dean has to tell him.

Silence. Nothing. His soul seems to get a leave a message after the tone.

There are so many things he has to tell Cas, but not if he isn't here to hear him.

However, eyes still fixated on the ceiling, he whispers,

"It was always yours to have, all yours." Forever.

10 years later.

There is a fine layer of dust covering every surface around him, not too bad considering the time that has gone by since someone has last set foot in this room. More than five years, maybe, Dean isn't too sure about that.

It's quiet in here but, from the other side of the closed door the sound of laughter and conversation filters until reaching him. The bunker is bursting with life, hunters that come and go, a safe haven for so many. He doesn't feel like being part of all that right now.

He wouldn't have come around if he had realized he would still be here on this specific day.

The memories are painful enough far away from this walls as it is.

But, well, now it's too damn late.

He sighs, the wound is old, but on days like today it's still tender to the touch, like it never healed properly. He hums to himself, a silly little tune, he doesn't remember where it came from but that's okay, he likes it anyway, it keeps his mind distracted. He lets his head fall back, resting it against the perfectly made bed, the covers smell after years of disuse. It reminds him of the first time they explored the bunker bedrooms.

It was love at first sight, despite all the work they had ahead of them to make this place liveable again.

He doesn't miss it nowadays, he is thankful for what was his home when he needed one the most, but he has somewhere else to call a home now. Far away from here.

He doesn't know why he decided to come in when he walked by the closed door, but he is here now, sitting on the floor by the bed, not wanting to think about having to get up or about the pain he has started to feel in his left knee. He is not so young anymore.

He opens his eyes when there is soft knock on the door and a gentle voice calls out his name.

"C'mon in." He calls back, smiling to himself and closing his eyes once more.

There is the sound of the door closing again, light footsteps that stop next to him, a warm body that joins him on the floor.

"What are you doing in here?" He doesn't need to open his eyes to picture the squinty look that is being directed to himself.

"I came here, years ago" he says instead of giving a real answer, "I sat down right on this spot and told whoever was listening that I needed a miracle."

He opens his eyes, turning his head to the side to be able to look at Cas, smiling softly at him. His hair is messy as always but, just like Dean's, it's turning grey, paired with his deeping wrinkles Castiel has never looked more handsome to Dean. More alive.

"Did someone listen?" He asks, with a glint in his eyes that make Dean believe he already knows the answer to that question.

He plays along, anyways. Dean reaches to close his hand around Cas' and, lifting them both to get them closer to his face, he kisses Castiel's knuckles, one by one.

"It took a while, but I got my miracle after all." Dean looks away, he has been working hard, all these years, to feel more comfortable in his own skin, open up and say what he has to say, but still, sometimes, especially in days like this, when he is feeling too much; when he feels raw, emotional, it can be all a bit too much.

Castiel leans in, he presses his forehead against Dean's cheek.

"I had forgotten it was today, it seems the same thing happened to you."

Neither of them would have wanted to be here today.

Dean nods lightly. He looks up at the ceiling.

He focuses on their breathing, almost synced, calm and deep, he focuses on all the parts of them that are touching. He grips Castiel's hand tightly, nothing is taking him away, it would have to take Dean too.

Nothing is after them now, though, he allows himself to relax once more, heavily leaning his shoulder against Cas'.

He never washed the jacket, it's still here, he had to put it in Cas' closet, where he would never have to see it, unless he wanted to.

"I am glad" Castiel says after a long moment of shared silence, "I could tell you what I needed to say that day." Dean knows the weight of Castiel's guilt around those last moments, he has never regretted saving Dean, of course, he does regret the pain he caused.

Dean almost makes a comment about him being lucky because Dean remembers he couldn't get a single word out, but he has made his peace with that because, even though it took some time, he could tell Cas what he had been bottling up inside himself for years too, staring into his eyes, for the very first time, then a second time and now he has lost count.

"I still can't believe sometimes that, well-" he trails off, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.

"That you could have it all?" Dean ventures.

"Yes." It comes out in a strangled whisper. Dean turns his head again, dropping a kiss on Castiel's forehead.

"It will always be yours, all yours." Forever.

#destiel #november 5th #post s15 #the post s15 i deserved of course 😌#long post #ficlet #vanessa writes ✨#hoy hay 2x1 en ficlets como en el carrefour #tuserpris

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