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saphirered · 7 months

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hello saph! first off, i'm wishing you good luck on your masters! i'm doing mine next year and i'm super looking forward to it, so i hope everything goes well for you too!! 💖💖💖

now, WELCOME TO THE HOT VAMPIRE ELF CLUB!! may i request Astarion/Reader(Tav) where Tav is a good aligned Life Cleric (or anything similar) that focuses on healing and supporting allies during combat, someone's that's a ray of sunshine because they choose the difficult path of being kind. i'm curious of your take on Astarion receiving genuine kindness, being disgusted at first, the progression of his attempted manipulation, eventually realizing his feelings, and how he would react to Tav being extremely injured in a fight and trying to save them (with good ending hopefully).

oh and maybe some blood drinking. you know. for reasons :-)

you're such a creative writer, i'm always looking forward to anything you post, so thank you! have a lovely day!

Hello dearie and thank you! Uni is tough but worth it so good luck with yours! I hope this little piece of distraction is to your tastes. 😘

Oh how easy it is to wrap you around his finger. Your sickening sweet and sheer willingness to bend over backwards at the smallest inconvenience you have the ability to fix, it’s nauseating. You’d already naturally gravitated towards him. It must be this incessant need to fix the broken. You seem to be attracted to broken things, thinking you can mend them with love and affection and a gentle touch like a stray pulled from the streets. He is no such thing. He is certainly no stray. A handsome wanderer without a home port, now that’s more like him. But you didn’t need to see that. You didn’t need to know him or his past. As long as Astarion kept on the front he could be your next project, just like these strays you’ve pulled along, well that might just work to his advantage.

To say you were an absolutely horrible influence on him would be an understatement. Whether it be his thieving and charming tendencies that often lead to heartbreak of the recipient or when his silver tongue is perhaps a little too sharp at times, your disapproval sparked something in the coils of his stomach he has not felt in nigh two-hundred years. Is this what remorse and guilt felt like? Did he want your approval? Your praise? He’s being utterly ridiculous. He has nothing to prove and you are just a tool. But here he is feeling just the slightest bit of guilt at the thought of you finding out the truth about him and how you might look at him then. He considers he might just not be able to look you in the eye. What has he become?

Admittedly Astarion got a little peckish and without much opportunities to feed himself proper he’d taken to your neck. An attempt was made but you caught him. Your eyes opened and stared right at him in surprise. He was equally surprised, his stealth having failed him. In that moment you managed to flip him onto his back and held your palm to his chest as you crouched over him. You’re much stronger than he gave you credit for. Maybe you just got lucky.

“What the hell Astarion?!” You whisper trying not to wake the others. He can all but heart the beat of your heart, how quickly your blood rushes through your veins. When he doesn’t move you give him a little more space. You don’t move for a weapon or attack him as he might have expected given what it must have looked like. You simply sit down next to him and he watches the tension disappear from your shoulders, the adrenaline rush coming down with. He goes over the excuses, the ways to explain to you but you simply hold up your hand to silence him. He finds it in his best interest to do so.

“You know you could have just asked.” He freezes like a deer in the torch light. You knew? How? How long had you known? Why hadn’t you said anything, done anything. He’s not blind to the prejudices against the creatures of his sort. Especially the ones that feed on the innocent. yet here you are in front of him absentmindedly brushing your fingers along the side of your delicious neck.

“Yes. Yes of course. ‘Hello my dear, I’m a blood sucking vampire spawn would you mind lending me your lovely neck for a few gulps? I’m incredibly peckish and could use a snack.’ Exactly how long do you think it would take for me to end with a stake in my chest or my handsome head removed from my ravishing body?” He ridicules and for a brief moment that pang in his chest, that tightening string reappears when you cast your eyes down and frown. It only lasts for a second before you go back to your neutral welcoming expression of understanding and compassion.

“I just hoped you’d be able to trust us, trust me. If you’d asked I’d have said yes. Would still say yes. All you need is ask, Astarion.” He tries to decipher any means of deceit or strings attached but finds none which leads him exactly to wonder…

“Why?” You catch on to the hint of suspiciousness and guardedness but you’ve not seen anything else from the elf. You’ve witnessed him for a little bit now and you know he must have his reasons to be mistrusting and always assuming everyone’s selfishness to be the root of any actions. You made him question that entire way of thinking. Whether he deemed you an exception to his usual views, allowed you to prove him differently or he’s simply chalked you up as a very good liar, you don’t know and perhaps neither does he.

He needed you to trust him. You do trust him. You’ve proven as much yet here he is still questioning your motives. You have your answer ready for him and by the looks of it it would be a genuine one but he doesn’t think he has the heart to actually hear it. He shakes his head. Something within him once again sparks that guilt. He feels bad for his motives of befriending you, of pursuing the path to something more, of charming you perhaps even into his bed if he kept playing his cards right but with every step he takes in that direction he can’t help but feel that guilt, and having to force himself to push down his own feelings.

“Nevermind.” Once again Astarion flashes you a charming smile. “Now since we have this little secret out of the way, I will ask. Not a drop more than I need?” It feels so incredibly strange to blatantly ask. He knows about certain individuals who have a thing for the sharp teethed and sanguine hungers but that is not you. What you offer is not for you. It’s for him. You want to help him, truly help him and that is why you offer. He’s been feeling so weak. The animals aren’t enough. The humanoid is so much more sustaining. He’ll be strong. He has to be strong if he wants to see this all through, to finally become master of his own fate. An intrusive thought pops through his head; maybe there’s a place for you in that plan as well.

“Only as much as you need. I’d like to keep my wits about.” The first part is a true statement. The second a half-joke. As much as he needs his strength, so do you.

“Well then, let’s make ourselves comfortable then, shall we?” He gestures to your bedroll. You simply scoot over.

Astarion, ever so gently as if you might fade into the dawn itself, lays you down. Never once does he break eye contact. You can see the brief hesitation, then reassurance of himself, and then something akin to pain. It crosses his features in but an instant but you catch on to it either way. It seems he’s noticed you catch on but he does not read into you further. Instead he softens, brushes aside your hair as he supports your neck and back. You place one of your hands on his bicep and give a reassuring squeeze and nod. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath before making for your neck.

It starts as a sharp and quick pain but is overtaken by a the awareness of the sheer rush of your own blood flowing through your veins. He drinks and drinks. You gasp his name, once more squeezing his arm but no response. He’s caught up in whatever runs through him, whatever keeps him latched onto your neck. You start to feel cold, then warm and lightheaded. You can feel your heartbeat speed up as well as your breathing calms and slows.

He doesn’t know what overcame him. This isn’t anything he’s experienced before. This is pure euphoria. You are pure euphoria. Your heart, your mind, your very soul. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the tadpole. It has to be. He feels it all. He feels it as if those feelings are his own. He feels the warmth you radiate as it warms him from within like the rays of the sun he thought he’d never be able to feel again, not without them being his end. Your compassion and affections for him, the way you allow him to cradle you, how you fit so perfectly within his embrace. You hold him dearly and think highly of him even if sometimes you disapprove of his choices, words and actions there’s not but understanding to him. Whatever this is, it is unconditional. No one has ever held an unconditional affection for him. He won’t go as far to call it love, but in a way it is. You truly do care about him. Even the whisper of his name upon your breath is like charm bells to his ears. The way you hold on to him, it means everything. And in turn it makes him regret every step he’s taken, every step he knows will lead to your heartbreak and destruction. But all this he feels through you, all this that opens within himself it is addicting and he can’t pull himself away.

By the time he stops you’re not responding. Your body is unmoving. Shit. He can fix this. Of course he can fix this. The matter now comes down to testing the limits of your forgiveness.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3

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myownjadedpieceofmind · 9 months

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It's been a while since I've said anything here...

I still haven't been approved for disability benefits, so most of my thoughts and energy has been zapped by trying to just stay alive right now. Financial issues aren't new, and it isn't like everyone else is doing so wonderfully that I feel like I'm alone in this. No, rather, I know I'm not alone, and in that regard I know my incessant complaints about my situation isn't changing the situation at all. So, I just don't talk about it as much.

However.... this Monday I had an appointment with my primary care doctor to really go over things. The torn hip labrum can't be fixed...or rather, the orthopedic surgeon I saw isn't confident that he can do me any good by fixing it. It seems my skull isn't the only part of my skeletal system that is messed up. I have pelvic and femoral antiversion, meaning...my bones are twisted. My pelvis is tilted, the hip sockets are too big, the hip ball joint is too small, and my femurs are twisted, so when I walk, I'm tearing my own labrum out. My left hip is already full of osteoarthritis, so if they did try to fix the right labrum, I would be putting too much stress on my left hip during the healing process that I'd likely need the left one fixed immediately.

I only weigh 108 pounds. Having me off my feet for 6months to heal from one hip surgery- that may or may not fix the situation- is risky. Add on another 6 months of healing for the chance of the left hip needing fixed immediately, and well.... let's just say, it isn't in the best interest of my actual health. Especially with the added bonus of a cardiac issue.

This is all going on, and then I broke a tooth. I've only got so many teeth left, you know?? So, I've been trying to come up with the funds to afford the dentures that I'm going to need here in about 3 weeks. I go see an oral surgeon next week for a consultation. The lowest price on my bottom denture is $700. That doesn't cover the teeth extraction. That doesn't cover anything but the denture.

I turned 44 on the 3rd. How the hell is this my 40s? Like... none of this is what I expected to be doing in my 40s. I found out that I've been lied to my entire life, gas lit and told that I was the healthiest person in my family. My parents used to brag about how few times I'd seen the doctor , because I didn't need to go, I didn't have anything wrong with me. Meanwhile, my bones were twisting under my skin, my skull had fused together too early and made no room for my brain. The entire time I was growing, I suffered.

And now... I wake up every day knowing there is no escape from the pain. I will live in pain every day for the rest of my life...

Somehow, it's comforting to know I wasn't imagining things when I was younger. I can't fix the situation...I can't figure out how to deal with the relationship I have with my parents. I don't know how to process any of what I have gone through in my life, and it's taken 44 years to be told the truth about the body I've been living in. I'm really proud of myself for having done all the things I've done in life...do you have any idea how much strength it had to take for my twisted frame to balance on stilletos all those years?!?!?!

Anyway. It's too much. I'm overwhelmed and exhausted and depressed and wildly detached from so many things. I'm trying to find a way back to some semblance of peace... I crave peace of mind more than anything.

#disabled #handicapped parking #permanent #health updates #chiari malformation #femoral antiversion #twisted bones #osteoarthritis #chronic pain #disability #this is my 40s #crisis mode #childhood #medical gaslighting #medical neglect

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marmolady · 1 year

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Reunion: 2024

Main Pairings: Estela x (F)MC, Variego, Michelle x Quinn, Graleister, Namasiao

Part three of my Reunion Project! In this one we see the gang enjoying the peace and tranquillity of Neptune Cove. Lots of Sean in this one, @yukkimons!

Next up will be a trip to the distant future (about sixty years' distance!), and then it's Jake x Sean time.

Do feel free to shout out a year between 2024 and 2097 if you want me to write a specific one next. You can find the full series (in progress) here on AO3.

Word Count: 3719

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading! Comments and re-blogs make me EXTRA happy. Always happy to nerd out about these characters with other fans.

_____________________

Thirteen figures-- or fifteen if one included the two toddlers being carried-- trudged along a winding jungle trail, taking a well-trodden path where the foliage was not so dense that the travellers couldn’t see a way out to the coast. Varyyn led the way, having made the trek from Elyys’tel to Neptune Cove countless times prior. He had slung across his back a rolled-up tent, as did several of the friends panting along the trail behind him.

Diego looked over his shoulder to Taylor and Estela, a grin on his sweaty face. “Which one of you do think got the better deal?” he asked. Seeing the force of Liv’s attempts to wrestle herself from Taylor’s grasp, he was already convinced that Estela had done herself a favour carrying the tent and sleep mats. He loved his niece to bits… but was more than a little grateful not to be the one lugging her through the rainforest.

“I--” --puff-- “--don’t know what you’re talking about--” --puff-- puffed Taylor. “This is--” --puff-- “a walk in the park!”

“Mama Baman!” Liv cried, kicking her chubby legs.

“That’s your cue, Craig,” Estela laughed. Having the whole crew on hand for baby entertainment duty sure made their job easier.

“Hey! Not just me! We’ve all gotta do it!”

And so, they all sang “Na na, na na, na na, na na, na na, na na, na na, na na--”

“Baaaatmaan!” Liv and Reginald both shrieked, delighted.

“For heavens--” Aleister grumbled, adjusting the carrier on his back as Reginald flung himself around in excitement, “are we almost there? I am so very, very close to being ‘Batman-ed’ out.”

They trudged on, with Varyyn’s reassurance that they were indeed getting close.

“You guys should have time for a nap before heading off again to Quarr’tel,” Taylor observed. “Unless you’re still feeling energised?”

“Nope,” Zahra said, scowling, “as if anyone can be ‘energised’ in this humidity?”

“I am so sticky…,” said Craig.

“We know you’re fucking sticky!”

Aleister snapped; “There are children present!”

“And you can blame the potty mouths they pick up on Craig’s incessant need to give us updates on his perspiration every goddamn minute.”

“One thing I’ve never understood,” Sean said, seeing a good point to swerve the conversation. “How is Quarr’tel still here? Wasn’t it snapped back into existence because of the time anomalies? If the anomalies got fixed when Vaanu left, shouldn’t the whole city be gone?”

Estela looked to her wife. “Taylor? You’re probably the closest of us to having your head round it.”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah, in theory it should be gone. But in theory, I should be gone. Time’s pretty much been healed, back to running like clockwork you could say, but when I wanted to stay, it made the fix incomplete. Vaanu left a tiny footprint behind to sustain my life, and it meant other things remained unchanged here. Basically, Quarr’tel is a scar left behind. I was scared the Vaanti would be zapped out of existence because they evolved drinking the sap from the tree, but they’re left behind as remnants too.”

Michelle frowned. “So, it’s similar to why time passed in the rest of the world even though we were sealed in our bubble. You made the fix imperfect.”

“Yeah. That’s the gist I managed to get. Unfortunately, Vaanu’s not present here in any kind of consciousness. I can’t ask what the hell happened, so piecing it together in a way that kinda makes sense is the best I can do.” Taylor readjusted Liv, who was once again wriggling. “What I do know is, Vaanu’s leaving hasn’t done much to slow the party mood out there. Seems a lot of folks like having a good revel for-- what did The Clockmaker say?-- for hedonism’s sake.”

“You know what, dudes?” Raj said. “Preach.”

____________________________

Neptune Cove, it was pretty unanimously agreed, was worth the hot and sweaty trek. The shallows were alive with colour-- there was not a place off the whole island to go snorkelling, and while those readying for a night of wild partying did some preparatory resting, the remainder of the group took to the pleasantly cool sea.

Two-year-old Reginald sloshed around in the calm shallows, one hand holding onto his mother’s, and the other flailing in excitement as colourful fish swam around his stubby legs.

“What that?” Reggie cried, splashing an arm into the water and frightening away whatever ‘that’ had been.

“Fishie, Reggie, fishie!” Grace coached.

“Fissie!” he parrotted, a grin upon his face.

“Hey!” Quinn said encouragingly, “you’ve got it! Fishie-fishie!”

To her delight, Reggie reached out for her hand, which she gently took. “You know, you have gotten so big since I saw you last.”

“Big boy!” he said proudly.

Aleister waded towards them, holding baby Liv in his arms. The toddler screeched with happiness as she saw her cousin, and poor Uncle Al winced at the noise.

“Still quite the set of lungs on her,” he muttered, and her lowered her into the water to splash around.

“Estela and Taylor gone with the others to the reef?” Grace asked.

“Yes,” said Aleister, “I didn’t fancy it myself, so thought I’d take Miss Mischief off their hands, let them have a break.”

“Baaaa,” said Liv, and she too reached for Quinn with a gaping grin.

Quinn laughed, gently splashing the gigging infant. Life had been hectic-- a flourishing cupcake business and her fledgling non-profit took up a lot of time-- and she’d watched the little ones grow up by means of regular Skype calls. That she was being greeted in person like a long-lost friend was a great relief-- these kids were family, after all, and there was no way in hell she was missing out on their lives.

“They definitely recognise me,” she commented.

“Oh, it’s clear,” Grace agreed. “Reg wasn’t shy with you and Michelle for even a moment! It’s nice to know that the weekly talks we have are helping him make a connection.”

“Certainly helps make the distance bearable. Can’t have the kiddos not knowing their Auntie Quinn and Auntie Michelle!”

Aleister looked up from his charge, confident that she had plenty of hands to hold should she need them. “Ah!” he said. “Speak of the devil….”

“Ah, there’s Auntie Michelle now! You gonna wave, Livi? Wave, wave!”

“Hi, Annie-sell!” Reggie cried.

“Did you hear that?” Quinn called out, ecstatic. ‘Auntie ‘Chelle’? They were winning at aunting.

Michelle called back, over the soft sounds of the gently rolling sea. “How could I miss it? That was clear as a bell!”

“Annie-sell, fissie!”

“You saw a fish? Wow!” It was an effort to be animated after the long trek, but Michelle managed to just about be convincing--at least to Reggie’s standards.

“Hey, babe,” Quinn smiled, “I take it you landed on opting out of a Quarr’tel rager?”

Michelle groaned as she trudged through the water. “There are less exhausting and hangover-inducing ways to unwind. Reef, sunbathing and maybe a massage.” She gave Quinn a wink. “That’s letting my hair down.”

Scooping up her little son, Grace laughed. “I’m with you on that one. It’s not every day you get a chance to be able to just totally relax-- and somewhere as beautiful as this.”

_____________________

By the time the group snorkelling at the reef returned to the shore-- in Estela’s case with the spoils of an hour’s spear-fishing in hand-- Raj, Craig, Zahra and Jake were rested and preparing for the next hike, this time on to Quarr’tel. As Jake had taken the route more than a few times prior, he was designated guide.

“Hey,” Taylor said, pulling him over with a serious expression upon her face. “You keep everyone safe, Top Gun.”

“A little credit, Princess. I do know my way around this rock by now.”

“We mean it,” Grace said teasingly, “everyone back in one piece!”

“Cross my heart. Happy?” He turned to get going with a smirk over his shoulder. “But I’d like to see you get these clowns back through the jungle of death sporting hangovers any better than whatever I pull off.”

Taylor could only sigh. Oh god. It was a damn good thing everyone would have their phones on them-- and a damn shame that the handy time and space portals stopped appearing after Vaanu left. With Liv and Reggie chorusing ‘buh-bye!’ and waving off the ‘party group’, there was little to do but breathe through her worries. Everyone was fine. She just needed to work on trusting it.

“Okay, Livi,” she sang, bouncing the little girl on her hip. “How about we rustle you up some dinner? Chef’s outta town tonight, so this could be interesting….”

Dinner was simple, but by the standards of everyone present, a success. No one caught fire, and although it was early to assume that food poisoning had been avoided, it looked like a win.

As the sun went down and everyone started yawning, Taylor found herself immensely glad that she and Estela had politely rejected offers to babysit so they could have a night off in Quarr’tel… a relaxing night on the beach was where it was at. But first, it was sleep time for Liv.

Taylor crawled into the small tent, getting booped in the face by her laughing daughter as she did so.

“Come here, you!” Estela chuckled, heaving Liv back onto her lap so that Taylor could get comfortable. “You’re going to need to contain your excitement for just a moment.”

Liv squirmed and fussed, but in no time, both moms were settled and their daughter was allowed to resume her exploration of the tent and its inhabitants.

“Ouch, that’s my nose!” Taylor exclaimed, gently redirecting pinching little fingers.

“Mama-ma,” Liv babbled happily, oblivious.

Taylor and Estela had camped with Liv before, just the once. Experience had them already expecting a fight for their little one to settle, but even if everyone had a bit less sleep than was ideal, the togetherness was nice. The hope was that it would be enough to get Liv drifting off, so they could join her to sleep a bit later.

Thankfully, the long day’s trekking and socialising had done their job of wiping Liv out, and she flopped herself down in the space between her mothers after just a few minutes. It seemed pretty goddamned lucky, to the point neither woman wanted to acknowledge that luck for fear of jinxing it.

Instead, Taylor put out an example of calm contentment for her daughter, breathing deeply and letting herself be fully present there, sharing the cozy space with the two people she loved most in the world. The tent smelled like beach, their bedding was already gritty with sand. Liv didn’t seem to notice, and Taylor watched as her little eyelids drooped, and drooped, until she drifted off to sleep. Seeing her baby girl so peaceful like that, it was one of the things she loved most about motherhood. Liv felt safe and secure, even as they took her on these adventures into an exciting world. Estela, too, was serene. Motherhood had been good for her-- Taylor had seen it with every passing month. Estela’s soft-- even goofy-- side had been allowed to blossom, growing as she became more sure of herself, as she came to trust with greater conviction that she could be that figure of warmth and tenderness.

Estela met Taylor’s eyes and gave an affectionate little smile. “She’s sound asleep,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Nice job, team.” Taylor leaned in to place a peck of a kiss upon Estela’s lips, then carefully, slowly, backed out of the tent, secure in the knowledge that her little one’s sleep would be closely monitored thanks to the combined talents and tinkering of Zahra and Iris. She and Estela could comfortably socialise nearby-- Liv would be safe and well.

Sean was soaking up the sun on the blinding white sands just a little way outside.

“She’s off to sleep already?” He commented. “You really are a pro at this.”

Taylor laughed dryly. “I give a good impression of it, don’t I? I’d say, Estela has the magic touch, and I’ve just about fumbled my way through.”

Sean gave her a reprimanding look. “Parenthood is about as big a challenge as a person can take on. You’ve more than fumbled through, Taylor. But you’re right that Estela’s a natural.”

“Thanks,” came Estela’s voice from the back of the tent, making both Taylor and Sean smile.

“So, do you think this is you done now? Kids-wise.”

Taylor glanced back towards the tent, but her smile didn’t fade. “Yeah. Yeah, this is us. Obviously, neither of us can say that we’ll never change our minds, but when Liv was born, I know I just felt like our little unit was complete. We both said we’d probably be considering a second child if we didn’t have such a close tie with Reggie, but the way things are, Liv’s got an almost full-time playmate. Reg has been absolutely gorgeous with her pretty much since she was born, and she just adores him.”

“It must be pretty idyllic,” Sean said, a little wistful, for not much was idyllic about his own life as his career headed toward its peak, “both your families-- well, you’re a whole family really-- just taking things at your own pace and letting the kids grow up surrounded by nature. Seems like you’ve really got it made here.”

Taylor stretched out on her back beside her friend, tucking an arm behind her head as she got comfortable. “Pretty much paradise,” she admitted.

“It just… never really stopped being home. We’re going to enjoy it while Livi’s still little, but if we want her to go to school, this can’t last forever. It might be back in the States-- probably near Northbridge again, but that might depend on where everyone else ends up-- or maybe things in San Trobida will be stable enough that it’s an option for us to raise her there.”

“That’s nice you’ve got your options open,” Sean said. He was quiet for a few moments, lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“What? What for?”

“It’s been a year. You’ve been out here, raising a baby, and I never once came out to give you a hand, or even just properly catch up.”

Taylor shook her head in disbelief. “Sean! When would you’ve had time to go jetting off to the Caribbean? We’re crazy lucky you’re even able to pull this trip. Neither of us would want you jeopardising your dreams for us.”

Sean pulled a face, as though swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I swore if I made it pro, I’d never let it keep me from the things that matter most. My mom, my brother, my friends-- maybe I’ve kept on top of some relationships, but I know I’ve let you down.”

The tent unzipped, and Estela emerged, expression stony. “You don’t get to decide if we’ve been let down. We haven’t, so give yourself a break.”

For a moment, Sean was reprimanded into silence, the blunt force of the words making them sink in. A small smile tugged at his lips… somehow that force really did something to take off the weight he’d insisted on putting upon his own shoulders. Good old Estela.

“I… guess I can’t argue with that.”

“No, you can’t,” Estela said gruffly. “Why the hell would we want you hurting yourself on our behalf? We could just as easily say we’ve been shit friends because we haven’t been to any of your games--”

“--but you have a baby--”

“Yes. We have our commitments, you have yours. That doesn’t mean the care isn’t being felt.”

Taylor had to hold back a loving chuckle. Estela was fierce in everything, including in how she loved… which definitely had its uses when it was necessary to push a friend into a little self-kindness.

“We’re keeping in touch,” Taylor said, “it’s sometimes a pretty big effort when everyone’s lives are so full right now. But we’re doing it, and I can’t see any of us ever letting that be lost.”

Sean looked her in the face and nodded. “I believe it too. You don’t go through as much crazy together as we did and not be stuck together for life.” He gave a small sigh. “It’s just old, emotional fears.”

Taylor laughed dryly. Boy, were those familiar. “Yeah, those are tricky things. Anyway, we’re all stuck with each-other, and we’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sean said. “The time we all shared, I think it made me. I’m the man I am today because of everything that happened, and I know I’m not alone in that. Do you ever feel like everyone else is just existing in a different world to us? Or is that just me going crazy?”

“Yeah, I get that. I know back at school I could get along well with people, but it was hard to get close ‘cause there was so much of me that I couldn’t share. I don’t want La Huerta to make up my whole personality, but….”

It was Sean’s turn to laugh this time. “But it is pretty massive.” His face quickly fell. “Honestly, it makes me wonder if I ever have a chance at finding love. Even aside from all the secrets, and all the on-going trauma from what we went through, I’ve got the limelight to deal with as well… and everything that comes with that.”

Estela frowned. “A lot of two-faced people who only see you as a way of getting themselves forward?”

“Yep, that’s a problem. And I can tell you, the media pressure on my to be dating as the poster boy for bi representation in pro football isn’t helping either.”

Estela gave a snort of disgust. The media was slime, pure and simple. They’d been lucky to get away with being as private as they had been surrounding the collapse and re-branding of Catalyst International, but they’d felt quite enough media scrutiny to have a severe distaste for the whole circus. She didn’t envy Sean in his high-profile career.

“I guess it’ll be nice when you wrap up your career and you can just tell ‘em all to fuck off without so many consequences.”

“That’s the dream,” Sean agreed with a wry smile. “Anyway, with so much that needs to be kept secret, and the media practically on my tail, it feels like romance is out for the foreseeable.”

Instinctively, Taylor shuffled closer to put an arm around him. She couldn’t deny that she was incredibly lucky to have found her soulmate out of all their adventures and misadventures; in that side of her life, she really had no uncertainty to keep her awake at night. “That really sucks.”

“It does,” Sean sighed. “I’m a huge romantic at heart-- but everything with Michelle got screwed up and now… well, feels like that was my only chance blown.”

“How are you… how are you doing with that? With Michelle and Quinn?”

Sean laughed, warm and genuine, even with the sadness underlying his greater fears. “Oh, that ship has sailed. Michelle is so much happier than she ever was with me, and I’m happy for her. I love her like a sister, wouldn’t trade that for anything. I won’t let myself have regrets; she found the relationship she needed. Just hope there’s still one for me out there!”

Estela studied him with her dark, brooding eyes. “I think there will be. You’ve got a lot going for you-- a lot of the things that actually matter the most. Whoever that person is will be lucky.”

“Your life won’t always be like this,” Taylor assured. “Sometime or other, you’re gonna come up to breathe.”

“And then,” he said, “there’s the pressure of finding that someone in enough time to have the family I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of.”

“You want a big family?” Estela asked.

“That’s the dream,” he said proudly. “I always thought, ‘I want to be the best dad’. Be there for my kids emotionally, spend time with them, be a role model.” He looked out to the sea, watching the gentle swell. After a few moments of quiet, he shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t just make romantic love happen, but I will be a dad. If it’s me on my own, I know all you guys will be supporting me through it all.”

Taylor grinned. “We sure will! Do you have any idea how much Craig would adore any kid of yours?”

That made Sean laugh. “Settles it really, huh? I owe it to my brother to make an uncle out of him.”

And Taylor laughed with him. “You’d better! The image in my head is just too darn cute to not come to fruition.”

____________________

With the stars twinkling overhead, the rest of the group joined the trio, two-by-two; Michelle and Quinn, Varyyn and Diego, and finally, Aleister and Grace, who’d had a little struggle with an overtired Reggie.

“Let’s walk to Neptune Cove, they said,” Aleister huffed, and he groaned as he lowered his thin frame to the sand, “it’ll be fun, they said….”

“One of those nights?” Diego asked sympathetically. He’d babysat enough times to know what those nights were like.

“He’s down, he’s out for the count, and Mother has ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ playing on repeat, so I think we might have cracked it.”

“He’ll sleep well,” said Grace confidently. “Dreaming of little fishies and adventures with his big family.”

Michelle stretched out, put her head back and exhaled deeply. Paradise made for the perfect break from the pressures of med school. It would be over all too quickly, but while it lasted… bliss.

Beside her, Quinn was looking up at the stars. “No matter how long it’s been,” she said quietly, “I always expect to see our stars. And then I think how enormous it is what we did together. We brought back the old night’s sky.”

Taylor gazed upwards, and wondered if Vaanu could have any inkling of what they’d left behind, that she was thriving under a pattern of stars she’d never been expected to see, and that her friends who she loved so dear were thriving with her.

“It sure is beautiful.”

#endless summer #marmo's reunions project #playchoices #sean gayle #estela x taylor #estela montoya #taylor montoya #grace hall #aleister rourke #quinn kelly #michelle nguyen #es fanfiction

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theendofachapter · 1 year

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Yeah.. it still hurts. Not as much as before.. but it still stings. Thought these wounds were finally healing.. and then it’s like they were ripped wide open again. I need to stop doing this to myself. I know she blocked my number and the one little ounce of hope that maybe she would reach out to talk about what happened and why she doesn’t even want to talk to me anymore would be through discord.. and I saw that she had deleted me as a friend. I would check it everyday hoping to see a message from her.. when inside I knew i shouldn’t be doing that to myself.. still holding onto hope. It’s pathetic really.. wanting to fix even something as simple as a friendship with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me. I just wish I knew why.. and how it got to this point. I think my ego is hurt, and that’s why I feel this incessant need to know what I did.. Does she hate me? I just don’t know anymore.. I honestly can’t think of anything I did that made her hate me this much. One of the last texts she sent me she accused me of manipulating her from the get go.. Does she really think I would do that to her? That I did everything in hopes of just wanting to sleep with her? After knowing her past? Jesus.. how can everything have gotten so twisted. Yes I did like her.. but I never had a plan and meticulously did things in hopes that she would “fall” for me. I had put my feelings aside and just wanted to be a friend to her when she really needed one. Was she mad that I defended her and spoke badly about her ex? From what I knew.. what else was I supposed to do? Just watch her put herself down like that time and time again like it doesn’t hurt seeing her do that to herself? So I finally spoke up.. every time he was brought up, which was every time we hung out.. I never made a single comment. And when there was hard proof that he didn’t even care what he did to her.. I couldn’t take it anymore. If that’s not what a friend does then I don’t know.. even if I didn’t have feelings for her, of course I’d still take her side. She said I was “biased” towards the situation.. but everyone is biased. From my perspective, I saw a girl who was trying to justify what her ex did to her was acceptable.. and that she didn’t deserve more, that she wasn’t worth more. I don’t know.. it sort of feels like she’s convinced herself that i had bad intentions and I didn’t care about her at all. That I faked everything.. that i never wanted to genuinely help. I just wish she would have communicated with me before cutting me out.. I’ve told her so many times I can’t read her mind.. and well … looks like I really couldn’t. Everything just points to her hating me.. why else would she not even want to speak to me.. I really shouldn’t be hung up on this.. I shouldn’t give her this much of my time when i probably don’t even cross her mind. It just sucks knowing that all along I was no one to her. Not even a friend. Less than a stranger.

I’ve decided that I’m going to save up as much as I can this summer and move back to cali in the fall. I need to get away from everyone.. a fresh start. Vegas sucks.. and it breeds the type of people that I don’t want to become. I’m going to take advantage of the opportunities out here until then.. I really hope I get a call back from any of the day clubs out here.. been out on so many auditions.. and it really made me realize how superficial Vegas is. It’s like cattle, everyone’s lining up in their baiting suits to get in front of a panel just to be judged. My current job sucks.. my hours keep getting cut, and the other job I’m starting doesn’t look like they get too busy, at least it’s more bartending experience. I’m going to try and juggle 3 if I can land one of the day clubs. My goal is to just save.. a one track mind so that I can move back and resume where I left off. Just sucks.. I would have rather put things aside and built something with her instead if things had turned out differently. I don’t think I can ever get over her if I’m being honest. I can lie to myself all I want, and watch all the videos on letting go.. but at the end of the day.. shes still the last thing I think about before I go to sleep.

I thought she had quit and that I wasn’t going to see her ever again.. but she’s working this Sunday. At least that means she’s healthy enough to work again. One of the co workers asked me where she’s been, and said that she knows we hang out a lot.. I always thought no one knew. I wonder if she knows I had feelings for her and was rejected.. I told her that she hasn’t responded to me too.. and I know my face got really red.. it was so embarrassing.. I could feel my face just warming up. I wonder if she’ll ignore me if I say hi to her this Sunday.. part of me wants to call out and avoid that situation.. but I can’t keep running and call out every time we have a shift together.. and of course that song came on as I’m finishing this.. fml really.

Tomorrow will be exactly a month since I’ve seen her.. who knew that would be the last time I’d be considered a friend. There were no indicators that she didn’t want to hangout anymore leading up to that day.. I thought if anything we had a lot of fun even though they were hospital trips and errands for meds.. but looking back now and rereading the texts from that day.. it’s like she planned it.. for me to come over to finish the last few episodes of Alice in borderlands so that she could cut me out. Man.. that means.. that day she knew what she was doing.. I wonder if she felt relieved once I left for work that day. I was so blind.. why couldn’t she just be upfront. I’ve always been direct with everything, why couldn’t she just tell me she didn’t want to hangout anymore.. instead of.. this. I’m feeling all this again and I don’t know what to think anymore.

1.25.22

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

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collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #villain!au #bnha fanfiction #tw blood #tw dubcon #hawks angst #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bee.writes

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emilia3546 · 3 years

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He Never Left Your Side - Nesta and Rhys

Nesta hasn't really spoken to Rhys since Nyx's birth, not for more than polite greetings anyway. But after attending a meeting about training the female Illyrians, they're stuck together with too much left unsaid.

*****

Nesta sighed as she stared out over the Illyrian mountains, enthralled by its rugged beauty, the raw untamed power in those jagged peaks, she almost forgot the male standing beside her, almost.

"You think it's beautiful," Rhys broke her concentration, and she held back the snappy response that would have allowed her to continue staring in silence,

"I've always been drawn the the wilder things in life," she said simply, let him take from that what he would, it was true in every sense, she'd never been the woman her mother had expected, not in her heart. But now, with the Valkyries, with Cassian, she was finally the person she was born to be, even if it was twenty five years too late.

"Thank you for coming today, I think we're getting there," Nesta wasn't so sure, the meeting had been a disaster, every Camp Lord had refused training to females, although, some had conceded permission for Nesta to run Valkyrie training, but no allowance would be made from camp chores and jobs. It was the first, very tiny, step, but a step nonetheless,

"Can't you just order them?"

"They'd disobey it, and I'd have to bring force in, I don't want a civil war, this is the only way, but with you showing that females can do it, we will get there, so thank you."

"I'll admit I never thought you'd say that to me of all people,"

"Will you hate me again if I say that I never expected to say it?"

"No. I'll mark you down as pragmatic though." Rhys laughed beside her, but Nesta couldn't tear her gaze from the view before her, "But you don't have to thank me, for anything, like it or not, you're my brother,"

"Still, I don't think I'll ever manage to thank you enough for saving Feyre's life,"

"She's my sister." Nesta did glance sideways at that, "And it was about time I returned the favor," she admitted, almost starting in surprise at the respect in Rhys' eyes, and the chuckle that left his lips,

"Don't tell her that. I'm glad that you found your own way to healing, and I'm sorry that it wasn't me who helped you, I was blinded by my anger over the past, it was wrong of me, and, well, you remind me of myself in some ways, I'm not altogether sure that's a good thing."

"That's a good thing."

"But, you are my sister, and I know we can't rebuild something that was never there, but I would like to really know you, I want you to be a part of the family. I owe you everything, and it shouldn't have taken me this long to give you a chance."

"You owe me nothing."

"Agree to disagree," Nesta offered him a small smile at that, the first time they'd truly agreed to anything, and stared back out at the mountains,

"I didn't believe Feyre when she said I'd like you, and I was right, but I hated you because you were what I could have been, with the right people, but I never truly hated you I don't think, I always respected you, somewhat grudgingly, but I did, mostly for your judgement of me, many males would have simply let me do what I was doing, left it to Feyre to try and reach me, you didn't go about it the best way, mind you, but the idea was what I needed. Maybe it was for her benefit at the time, but I doubt that's true now,"

"No, it's not, believe it or not, I like you, Nesta, I didn't like the Nesta who returned after the war, but I should have recognized that you were hurting and needed support, I'm glad you were able to find it." Nesta smiled,

"I do have a bone to pick with you, though,"

"Oh yeah?"

"You gave Cass baby fever."

"I do apologize," he laughed, "Are you sure you can't hold him off?"

"Oh I can hold him off, he won't insist, but still, it's all your fault," she teased, finally relaxing, her attention no longer zeroed in on Rhys, but their surroundings, as it usually was. The companionable silence surrounding them still surprised her, were it anyone else, she'd have expected incessant talking, but it seemed that he understood, they had said what they needed to right now, it was just about learning to trust one another, to find the family bonds that they had neglected.

It was this silence that alerted her to a slight sound, a sound she assumed was Rhys moving from where she couldn't see him, but the silence made her look round, not even the birds were singing any more, a flash of movement drew her attention. She moved on instinct, not knowing what the movement was, but a sense of danger overwhelmed her as she stepped into its path, shoving Rhys aside. As it crashed into her, she identified one of the Illyrians from the meeting, a Camp Lord's son, bringing up her hand to slam her fist into his face, his nose crumpling under her fist as he stumbled backwards.

"Oh gods, Nesta,"

"What?" It was only when she stepped away from the unconscious male that she noticed the crimson drops of blood on the stone, except the blood from his nose hadn't fallen. She glanced down, her hands automatically pressing into her side at the sight of the dagger buried to the hilt just below her ribs. It hardly occurred to her that she'd saved Rhys' life, again, with the blade's trajectory aiming to sever his spinal cord had she not intervened. Horror was written across his features as her vision fractured from the pain radiating from the wound, and he stepped back to support her as she stumbled, "Now you owe me," she laughed, and winced at the pain such a movement caused.

"Hang on, I'll fix this, I will, I've just got to get us home first, okay?"

"Mmhm," Nesta mumbled, her vision failing completely as blood rushed past her fingers, staining the cliffs red as they vanished, reappearing in one of the River House's guest bedrooms. Nesta didn't register Rhys setting her down in the bed, didn't register when the door flew open and Feyre rushed in, gasping in horror at the sight of her sister.

"Could you go and fetch Cass, it'd be better to tell him face to face,"

"Okay yeah, what happened?"

"She saved my life."

Nesta did register the dagger being withdrawn, and the paint that redoubled afterwards, but a quiet tap against her mental shields encouraged her to lower them, she sensed no danger from that presence, and the pain vanished, allowing her to slip into a blissful state of unconsciousness. She didn't wake when Cassian arrived moments later, all but begging Rhys to heal her. She didn't wake when the sides of the wound closed, blood vessels realigning, skin sealing back together at Rhys' command. She didn't wake when Rhys explained what she'd done, without even thinking about it. She didn't wake when Cassian kissed her brow, when he demanded to see the male who'd hurt her. She didn't wake when Rhys admitted to having left him behind, or when Cassian checked over her again, making sure that she was really okay before leaving to find Azriel to catch the male who'd attacked them.

She did wake when her stomach demanded the dinner she'd missed, finding Rhys still sitting beside her,

"Don't get up, it was quite deep, it might not be fully healed yet, when I heal with my magic it can take a bit of time if it's a serious injury, just take your time, do you need anything?"

"Honestly, food, and a glass of water," Rhys smiled at that,

"You're okay then, so long as anyone who's been injured is asking for food, that tends to mean they're okay really, hang on, I'll be right back." Nesta closed her eyes again, only opening them when Feyre's voice sounded through her sleep,

"Nesta? You said you were hungry?"

"Thank you," he stomach growled again at the scent of the simple broth, and she slowly sat up, the pain reduced to a dull ache as she moved, pausing at the sight of Rhys beside her, sprawled in a chair beside her bed, his head leaning back against a precariously balanced cushion.

"He hasn't left your side," Feyre said, handing Nesta the tray of food, "He insisted on healing you himself, it tires him, his magic is not really designed for healing, but he wanted to do it," Nesta smiled to herself, he was a better male than she'd ever given him credit for, and she was proud to call him her brother. From Feyre's smile, she must have said it out loud, and she nodded, she meant it, it was about time they found the love that they'd been missing all their lives.

tags: @teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #rhysand #rhys #nesta and rhys #nesta and feyre #sibling bonding

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kiyoominous · 3 years

Text

test drive (miya atsumu)

synopsis: miya atsumu, despite popular belief, is enamoured by long-term relationships. it just sucks that his girlfriend doesn't and all you can do is just watch everything around him burn.

pairing: miya atsumu/reader

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship

genre: fluff, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

cross posted to ao3!!

Atsumu loves his girlfriend. So much. He loves the way her fingers curl around his, the warmth of her smile, the taste of her lips. Osamu jokingly says that he's so in love that it's sickening. But somewhere deep inside him, he knows that her charm is just a wall that's bound to tip over.

He's seen the way she stares at him. Her eyes are always half-lidded, as if she only wants him for pleasure. After back to back nights with entangled legs and heaving bodies, he starts to think that maybe it's true.

He's seen the way she sits with his friends. Once he brought her to an Inarizaki VBC reunion dinner and she didn't laugh once. Not at Suna's jokes, not at Aran's quips, not even at him. She smiled sweetly at them but he could see the poison dripping from her features. When they left, she was all over him and told him how much fun she had and he forgot that she ever made that face.

He's seen the way she steals his time from him. When was the last time he hung out with any of his friends on his lonesome? He couldn't tell you. If he isn't doing volleyball related things, he always finds her clinging onto his arm or hovering over him or squirming underneath him.

Atsumu knows that these are red flags that are practically flapping around right in front of him but he stays unsure. What if he's overthinking it? Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is the compromise that he needed to practice in relationships. Besides, she's so beautiful, so intelligent, so radiant. He doesn't want to lose her over such minor details, he loves her too much.

What is love truely like anyway?

He knows he loves Osamu, volleyball, his friends. But that's different, right? At this point, the differences are arbitrary because he feels love is not the relationship that he's drowning in now. He loves her and she loves him but every time she's around, he can't breathe. It's not the good kind of breathlessness either. Atsumu feels like he's being held down. He doesn't like it but he figures that maybe her demanding nature could whip him into shape or something.

After all, the last time he told her that he felt insecure about her love, she proclaimed that he wasn't allowed to feel like that ever again because it made her feel doubtful too.

In amongst the whirlwinds in his mind, he always finds himself trailing back to you. You, the childhood friend who played pretend with him and Osamu every day after school. You, his personal tutor when exams were creeping up on him. You, the person who made his heart feel so full and happy.

Perhaps you were love personified. But he'll never know anything of you, of your love, of maybe his love for you. He doesn't even remember the last time he spoke to you. It's a good thing that you do.

It was right before he was swept up from his feet by infatuation. He used to talk your ear off about her all the time, until he didn't. You met her once too, being met with the same poisonous smile. With every passing day, he notified you of at least one thing that she did that day and it became painfully obvious that she wasn't in it for his whole. Each fragment was minor on its own but piling it all together painted a big red flag. You hated it.

His incessant texting became more infrequent and suddenly, he wasn't talking to you anymore. Every time you messaged him, you were met with radio silence. Not even the hostile kind, just one full of emptiness and nothing. If you have to be honest, you miss it. The 'good morning' texts, the pictures he sent whenever he met up with Osamu, the secrets you two would whisper in the dead of the night.

You miss Atsumu.

So you message his twin brother, your other childhood friend that you haven't lost yet.

To: samu

how's atsumu, by the way?

kinda miss him :(

From: samu

you miss him?? D:

jks, i miss him too

his girlfriend broke up with him a week ago so not very well

You will never admit it but you love him so dearly. How could you not, he's a shooting star that burns so brightly that the image of him is engrained in your retinas. An explosion of personality, you had once kindly put it. You only registered that you felt such a poignant emotion for him when it was too late, when he had set his eyes on the girl that just shattered him into pieces.

Nothing could ever compare to the pang in your chest when you realise that he isn't and wasn't being loved the way that he should be.

Atsumu's lost all that he loves and all you can do is watch. No reaching out, no late night drives to his place for a cry, no laughter filling his empty apartment. He's drifted away and it's gonna take a miracle for either of you to float back to each other.

But then again, you can make that miracle happen, right?

And you do while standing at his front door, shivering in the November cold. You knock once and the door immediately flies open, revealing a snotty-nosed Atsumu. You'd laugh at the sight but sorrow washes over you too quickly. His eyes widen like saucers as he chaperones you into his one-bedroom apartment.

It's not long before you're both hunched over in laughter, anger and misery all in the same breath.

"She said that she jus' wanted to test me out. What am I, a second hand Honda Civic?" he practically spits.

"Personally, I think you're more of a Mercedes kind of guy." you reply in jest. Atsumu smiles warmly for a moment before he gives you a look of mock betrayal. The warmth spreading through his chest reminds him that he missed all of this, all of you. He hopes you don't catch him getting all soft and sappy.

"Mercedes, huh? I'm not good enough to be a Ferrari?" you can only giggle back at him.

The conversation dips into silence for a moment and you feel the weight of it draped over you like a blanket. A stupidly heavy blanket. Atsumu thankfully opens his mouth to speak.

"Thanks for comin' over, I wasn't expectin' ya to after..."

"I know. In any other circumstance, I would've had every right to be mad so it helps that I'm not a jerk."

"Shut yer trap."

"Love you too." Somehow, the words held a bit too much love in them when you let them slip from your lips.

With that, Atsumu decides that he wants to watch Finding Nemo — apparently the 'best animated film of all time' — with you in tow. Who are you to say no to his innocent request?

The glow of the flat screen fills the once dark and empty apartment. The blonde finds that he's not paying as much attention to the animated fish on screen as he usually does. Nemo's not as interesting as you are, he muses. Unlike him, your eyes are fixed to the aquatic story in front of you, legs tucked under crossed arms.

As he periodically steals glances at you, he thinks that after he heals from this mess, after he becomes more whole, he'll come to you. No matter how long it takes for him to get over his former lover, you’ll be the one he’ll aim for. You burn way brighter than she did anyway.

#tw toxic relationship #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #hikari's writing!!#why am i posting at 2am AGAIN #also this is just me processing my last relationship #tmi i know but i'm still upset about a lot of stuff #dw i am over him now!!! no more 3d men!!!#just not completely over what hurt me the most #art.os

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piedpiperslists · 3 years

Text

Jungkook One Shots (V)

* s - contains smut

Let's Play: Dirty by @jungkxook s wc~10k / enemies to lovers, roommates au Summary: On today’s stream, watch as the king of gaming Jeon Jungkook gets totally pwned by some newbie player on Overwatch (he swears he was stream sniped)! To make matters worse, he can’t seem to focus anymore when you’re in the room but he promises that’s not because he’s in love with you or anything. Use code ‘jungkook’ on any game purchase through steam at checkout for 25% off so that Jungkook has something to feel better about!

Pour Up by @jungkxook s wc~14k / ft KTH, fuckboy!Jungkook, fuckboy!Taehyung, PWP Summary: Sleeping with both notorious frat boys Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.

“I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.” by @solarwonux s wc~3.2k / roommates au, PWP

Lemon Sherbet by @extravaguk s wc~15k / tattoo & piercing artist!Jungkook, ex high school classmates Summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

Sweets&Ink by @extravaguk s wc~5k / tattoo artist!Jungkook, baker!reader, strangers to lovers Summary: Jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

Lonely Hearts Club by @dovechim s wc~11k / enemies to lovers Summary: Jeon Jeongguk has annoying little brother energy™. You know this deep in your bones. Wedding after wedding, you keep running into him at the goddamn singles’ table, and he just won’t leave you alone. Until you start to wonder… is he your ticket out of the lonely hearts club?

The Love Project by @gukyi wc~12k / friends to lovers, college au Summary: From running to McDonald’s at 3am after a Halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the Teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend Jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. But, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

Are You Going to Stay? by @hollyhomburg s wc~6.4k / old friends to lovers, idol au Summary: It’s been a year since he last saw you, and every day he misses you more. It was only a matter of time until he turned up at your door asking for another chance.

Heartbreak Trials by @dreamyjoons s wc~13.8k / roommates au Summary: It all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

Extra Cheese, Please! by @vankoya wc~9.5k / friends to lovers, roommates au Summary: Jeongguk dislikes three things: 1. Having his Overwatch marathon nights interrupted, 2. Dealing with drunk people while he is sober, and 3. Cheesy ramyeon. His best friend slash housemate slash insufferable crush is the drunk girl with an incessant craving for super cheesy ramyeon who interrupts his Overwatch marathon night, and ultimately proves that the aforementioned meal looks just as gross coming up than it does when it is first in the bowl. Luckily, there is always a silver lining. Even in the worst of situations.

#jjk list #jungkook oneshot

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buckttommy · 3 years

Text

also on ao3

post buck begins, because we all need some therapy after that episode

summary:

"In the moment, Eddie is grace incarnate. In the moment, he is Ares on the battlefield, calm and measured, steady and sure. But when the moment passes—when Buck steps out of the truck, healthy and whole, if not entirely happy, when he ascends those stairs to meet with his parents—it's like all Eddie’s cords have been snapped, like all the fight is being drained from his veins, Hera sitting on Mount Olympus telling him to lay down his sword and come rest."

or; this fic is directly inspired by eddie's heart eyes in the last few minutes of Buck Begins

It's only after everything calms down that he starts shaking.

He's used to it by now—the crash of overwhelming emotion that rocks him damn near off his feet every time something happens. He's used to it, but that doesn't make it any easier. Chris is at Abuela's tonight, not around to see his father shake apart like a leaf. All for the best, he knows. Eddie’s trying to be more open with his feelings, create an atmosphere of vulnerability with his son, but some things he needs to do on his own.

The shaking starts in his hands. Hands that took up position on that rope at Buck’s back, hands that came alongside Buck when he needed them the most.

What would have happened if they'd gotten there just a second too late? What would they have found?

Eddie makes it a habit not to think like that, can't think like that for his own sanity. There’s always a nightmare waiting to unfold when he lets his mind wander, so he lets himself move on.

They got to Buck, that's all that matters.

He pulls a beer from the fridge, drops down at his kitchen table and rests his forehead on the cool surface.

He's used to this too— the incessant replay, the home movie that only he can see where every moment, every action, every word rewinds and repeats over and over again. Eddie watches it all, everything from yesterday afternoon up until the point where they all went home after shift. He watches himself watch everything unfold around him, dazed, as if it all happened to someone else.

He'd come so close to losing everything last night. Maybe that's why he's having such a hard time letting the panic and fear go. He'd come so close to losing Buck—not physically, of course; they were never going to let him go down alone, all of them or none of them is the deal—but if Buck hadn't been able to save Saleh, he would have lost him for good. He knows it like he knows his own name.

For two weeks, Buck has been spiraling, circling the drain of self-doubt, and worthlessness, and achingly deep loneliness. For two weeks, he's watched Buck withdraw into himself, watched those bright eyes grow dimmer and dimmer. Watched that mouth grow tighter and tighter, and he hasn't been able to do a damn thing about it.

Eddie's never been good at feeling helpless. He's never been the waiting room type, never been the one to sit this one out, son, let someone else handle it. He's a doer, always has been; a fixer when no one else can or will step up to the plate, and watching Buck suffer this week—for there really is no other word for it, it's suffering, plain and simple—has been like asking him to neglect the most crucial part of himself, asking him to bury the one thing that makes him Edmundo Diaz.

His hands ached with the need to crawl inside Buck and hammer away everything that was broken, to sew together everything that needed to be patched, and each time that ache threatened to overwhelm him, it was like being met with a wall every time. Even though Buck has been more open with him these last few weeks than he has ever been, coming to his house and simply letting himself find healing in Eddie’s home, it was very clear that what he was going through was something Eddie couldn't fix, and Eddie didn't even have the courage to do what he wanted to do which was to wrap Buck in his arms and hold him through it.

And so remained his hands at his sides, useless useless useless up until the point when he needed them the most. Up until Buck needed him the most.

Because that's what he does, right? That's what they do for each other. Show up at the last second, what, you didn’t think I'd let you have fun all on your own, did you?

His hands are a love language of their own and they tell the story of his love far better than any sonnet he writes ever could.

Eddie raises his head and takes a sip of his beer, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before letting it glide down his throat.

His heart gallops in his chest. Always such a delayed reaction. When he was in the moment, he felt calm. Serene, even, because fighting fire, saving the day—this was something he could do.

Walk into the gates of hell for Buck? He could do that.

Hold onto that lifeline and pull his boy back from wherever he was falling? He could do that too.

In the moment, Eddie is grace incarnate. In the moment, he is Ares on the battlefield, calm and measured, steady and sure. But when the moment passes—when Buck steps out of the truck, healthy and whole, if not entirely happy, when he ascends those stairs to meet with his parents—it's like all Eddie’s cords have been snapped, like all the fight is being drained from his veins, Hera sitting on Mount Olympus telling him to lay down his sword and come rest.

He'd hurried through his shower, hurried out of the parking lot, pulled into a Target parking lot and tried to breathe for the first time in twenty-four hours.

He still feels like he hasn't quite caught his breath.

A key turns in the front door. The familiar sound of boots walking across the floor, the sound of a chair being pulled out beside him.

Buck sits down and takes his hand in both of his, wrapping long fingers around his, practically swallowing his hand whole.

"You're shaking," he says after a moment.

"Yeah." Eddie doesn't lift his head. "Happens."

"Hm." Buck doesn't let go. He doesn't say anything more either. Eddie feels the beer bottle slide through his fingers, condensation left dripping from his skin as Buck takes a sip.

"Can you look at me?" Buck finally asks.

Eddie looks up. Buck is already staring holes into him, eyes warm and soft in a way that shouldn't be reserved for him, but somehow is.

"I never got to thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Eddie replies automatically. "It's our job, it's what we do."

But that's not what Buck is thanking him for and they both know it. Buck doesn't let go of his hand; he strokes the back with his thumb, tracing light circles that make Eddie want to do something stupid like run away. Or cry.

"You know," Buck says quietly, "I don't think I could have made it through their visit without you. You... you were everything these past two weeks."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. You—” Buck cuts himself off with a laugh. It’s at that moment Eddie realizes Buck is wearing one of his hoodies. Buck continues, laying his previous train of thought to rest. "I've got a lot to learn about a lot of things, Eddie. I've got a lot to learn about... love. And the people who love me, the way they love me. I've got a lot to learn about accepting it."

The fact that he's talking about this is a victory alone. Eddie is so proud of him, his skin feels thin with the enormity of it all. He's sure his pride is bleeding from his pores.

"You'll figure it all out," he says. It's true even if it's not quite what he wants to say. Emotional come down is a bitch; he couldn't put the words together even if he wanted to.

Buck laughs, soft, his face reddening. "Yeah, I will. But I say all that because…” He takes a deep breath. “I say all that because I'm realizing some things about myself. And I'm realizing some things about you. And I'm realizing some things about us."

Of course Buck would be the first one to say it; of course he'd give voice to the thing they've been dancing around for almost a year now.

"I don't want you to run away." Buck whispers.

Eddie doesn't even realize he's tried to pull his hand away until Buck's fingers tighten. Not hard that he couldn’t break out of it, still so gentle even now, but enough to let him know that he doesn't want him to leave.

"What do you want then?"

Whatever he wants is his, doesn't Buck see that? How could he not?

Buck shrugs. "What I want is to love you, properly, the way you deserve to be loved. What I want is to be in Chris’s life for as long as I live. What I want is to hear you say you love me and believe it, to not doubt it for a single second."

The war of emotions flooding through Eddie's veins right now. Maybe this conversation is a battlefield of its own. Only instead of being Ares, he is the blood on the blade, the chest on the other end of the sword, carved open from top to bottom.

"But you're not ready yet," he finishes for Buck.

"I'm not ready yet,” Buck confirms. “But neither are you."

The words are delivered so kindly that Eddie almost misses the fact that they reach right inside him and wring him dry. He wants to flinch away from the truth of it, from the knowing. For a brief moment, he wants to go back in time to when Buck was some insecure, intimidated asshole and he was the newbie firefighter and there wasn't this much intimate knowledge permeating the air between them. For a brief moment, he wants that wall back between them so all his private, tender spots can be kept safe.

When he was seven, his parents used to force him to sit through Sunday School at Mass and listen to the teacher talk all about the impenetrable walls of Jericho and how all it took was an act of faith to knock them down. At the time, he'd thought it silly, in the way kids think the most profound things are found in animated movies and badgering their parents with incessant questions.

But there's truth to that now, he realizes, because it takes all his faith to sit in this chair, to look Buck in the eyes, to be seen in return, and to know that, whatever Buck sees he's not going to run away.

It takes faith to be known, to knock against his walls until they're nothing but dusty piles of rubble and ivory.

He doesn't deny Buck’s statement, doesn't deny the truth of everything Buck sees.

There's no denying a reflection in a mirror, anyway.

"Tell me what you want, Buck."

Buck sighs. He brings Eddie's hand up to his mouth, kisses every knuckle. Belatedly, Eddie realized that at some point he stopped shaking. He only notices because he's started again, and this time, it has nothing to do with fear.

"I want to know that we're a sure thing. And that when—" he punctuates this statement with another kiss, this time to the palm of Eddie’s hand, "—we come together, we make it last forever. That's what I want. But we’re not ready"

Buck sets his hand down just as gently as picked it up and sits back in his chair.

Inexplicably, Eddie feels his throat tighten. He could flip through every single page in the dictionary and still not be able to find a word to describe how he's feeling.

“No. We’re not.” His voice is hoarse when he says, "But I'll be here. For when we are."

Buck shrugs again. "I know." Easy, like he’s never doubted it. That, of all the things he struggles with, of all his disbelief in the people he loves, that is the one thing he is sure of—Eddie's unwavering, steadying presence in his life. His love for him, no matter what form it takes.

"I have a date," he says randomly. Buck looks at him curiously. "The teacher from Christopher's school. Ana."

He watches Buck mouth the name, feel the weight of it on his tongue. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath until Buck nods, but he catches it again when Buck says, "I do too. Not with Ana, of course, but. Another firefighter. Someone from the 221."

Eddie considers that for a moment. This feels like a break-up, only there’s nothing to break. If anything, it’s the promise of more, the delaying of the inevitable so that they know for sure they won’t break themselves apart when it is time. And yet, the thought of this pseudo-loss of this sits wrongly in his stomach. Eddie considers the idea of someone putting their hands on Buck’s waist, their mouth on Buck’s neck. It doesn’t hurt but it’s not pleasant either.

He stares out the window. Rain spatters and rolls down the windowpane.

“Why does this feel like this?” he wonders aloud.

It’s so vague, hardly even a question, but Buck seems to understand. Of course he understands.

“Hey.” Buck’s voice, the earnestness in it, draws Eddie’s eyes back to his face. “We’ll get there. You and me are always going to be you and me . We’re a team, and I’m not going anywhere, Eds. We’re not done yet. We’re just…”

Buck runs out of words, but that’s okay, he doesn’t need to finish. Eddie gets it anyway.

“I love you,” he says, because it’s true, in all the ways. And because Buck needs to hear it, and because he needs to say it before he loses his nerve.

Buck’s face does something complicated. “I love you too.”

Buck rises to his feet. He stretches, all the knobs and joints in his body popping. In his peripheral vision, Eddie can see the cloth of his hoodie ride up, the jut of Buck’s hips on display. The pang of that not-quite-loss hits him all over again, but it’s duller this time.

Buck is right. They’ll always be a team, always be them , but if they’re going to be more, they both need to be a lot healthier than they are, a lot stronger in themselves before they tie themselves to one another. Because it’s not just going to be them in the mix either; it’s going to be Chris, it’s going to be their families, it’s going to be the team at the fire station who will depend on them being a cohesive unit. They need to discover who they are before they become a pair, because once they fuse together, there’s no going back. Only forward, come what may.

Not yet, but eventually.

Buck jingles his keys in his pocket. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Eddie looks up at that beautiful face and those gorgeous eyes. He’s had it all wrong, he’s not losing this at all, he’s gaining it. Maybe not today, but some day. There’s a promise in Buck’s eyes, one he knows is reflected in his own, and the last ache of that pseudo-loss fades away to nothingness.

He nods. “Okay.”

Buck’s mouth turns up into a sweet smile. Not kissing him right then and there is both agony and relief. Buck lets himself out, leaving Eddie to stare after him, the smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

No, not yet.

But soon.

#pretty sunshine boy #evan buckley #eddie x buck #buddie #buck begins #tv: 911 #spoilers //#my fic #jack.txt #This fic practically wrote itself I'm not gonna lie #I banged it out in like an hour and half (including edits)#100

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stevesharrlngtons · 3 years

Text

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him.

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives.

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam.

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way.

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit.

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved.

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself.

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most.

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more.

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen.

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking.

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door.

“Didn't Ma call?”

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch.

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.”

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times.

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing.

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time.

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips.

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance.

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance.

“What are you doing here, Kev?”

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch.

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,”

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.”

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table.

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again.

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette.

“(Y/N) loves me,”

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.”

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.”

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last.

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up.

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course.

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged.

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply.

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.”

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!”

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!”

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.”

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.”

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock.

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you.

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace.

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you.

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug.

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?”

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone.

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke.

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?”

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison.

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen.

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother.

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -”

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.”

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!”

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?”

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?”

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far.

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.”

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.”

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit.

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall.

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated.

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.”

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed.

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache.

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully.

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence.

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration.

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did.

“I do. And I love you, too.”

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his.

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm.

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring.

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.”

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.”

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.”

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest.

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?”

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes.

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.”

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?”

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.”

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love.

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned.

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy.

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him.

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could.

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot:

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.”

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe.

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.”

“Really?”

Mickey simply shrugged.

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering.

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze.

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.”

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously.

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit.

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.”

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of.

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow.

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.”

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology.

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery.

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt.

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.”

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?”

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt.

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving.

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.”

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind.

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click.

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.”

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck.

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point.

“And if I was?”

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist.

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it.

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (: if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

#mickey x reader #mickey villains #mickey villains x reader #mickey villains imagine #mickey villains imagines #mickey villains fanfic #mickey imagine #mickey imagines #mickey villains fanfiction #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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somethingwritey · 3 years

Text

sneak peek: “run to you” - a rangshi longfic

💖 i am currently working on a rangshi longfic (50k words at the moment) that i’ll eventually publish on ao3. it takes place directly following the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee.

💖 my writing commissions are open! message me with commission requests or questions!

💖 here’s a sneak peek of “run to you”!

---

Kyoshi had blood on her hands.

Quite literally, at the moment.

She stared down at her palms and fingers, hoping they didn’t shake as badly as she feared.

She knew she needed to wash the weight of Rangi’s blood away, watch it swirl down her arms and out of sight, as if that alone could wipe away the pain she’d caused her girl, but for some reason, Kyoshi couldn’t seem to move her feet.

Every part of her felt heavy and languid, and it was hard work to imagine that these were the same limbs that had carried, defended, and healed only hours ago. Kyoshi wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for someone else to save the world for once.

Because that was the oh, so incessant problem about Avatarhood. No matter how many messes Kyoshi cleaned up, there were still new terrors cropping up the moment she sat down to catch her breath. It was exhausting. Behind all the makeup and armor, she was still the servant girl in the mansion - tasked with the never-ending job of cleaning up.

“You saved her life.”

Kyoshi lifted her head to see Hei-Ran, standing only a little less poised than usual. The teetering fate of Rangi had taken a toll on even the most rigid members of her group.

“I did my duty.” The words came out defeated, as if Kyoshi had lost instead of won. Then again, with Yun’s grey body lying somewhere inside the ruined mansion waiting to be put to rest, and a bloodied Rangi being tended to by Atuat, maybe she couldn’t claim victory after all.

Peace comes at a price.

She heard the words in Lao Ge’s voice, although she was fairly certain he’d never actually uttered them to her.

“You did far beyond that, Avatar.” Hei-Ran thought about it for a moment, then took a seat beside her - flicking her robes out behind her as she did. “You should be honored for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, except no one will even know!” Kyoshi slammed her fists down on the ground, causing a small tremor beneath them. “Zoryu’s made sure of that! He gets all the credit, and all he’s done is sentence an innocent man to death!”

This outburst probably wouldn’t win her any favor in Hei-Ran’s eyes - the woman so committed to her duty that she’d willingly sacrificed her hair and honor to acknowledge her failures - but Kyoshi couldn’t help it.

Her first choice for a confidant would’ve been Rangi, of course. Or maybe Kelsang. But with the latter dead and the former barely conscious, she supposed the old headmistress would have to do. The woman had claimed Kyoshi as a daughter back in North Chung-Ling. Perhaps that warranted a bit of sympathy or at least a listening ear.

“The Fire Lord’s job is complicated,” Hei-Ran stated. “As is yours. You’ve both been tasked with the impossible: governing a world that does not wish to be governed by you. Chaos is the natural order, Kyoshi, as much as we pretend it is not. The Fire Nation must go to great lengths to maintain our control. Even if it… requires some bloodshed.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Kyoshi shook her head. She no longer felt the dull aching in her chest that used to come with a reminder of her station, but that didn’t mean the Era of Kyoshi hadn’t been stained with blood and confusion and deceit.

“The Spirits chose you.”

Why?

The plaintive question would’ve made her sound like a child, so Kyoshi sealed her lips and kept the pleading inside. She wanted answers. And since Hei-Ran would understand nothing more about the mysterious methods of the spirits than she did, Kyoshi decided to at least start with something the woman stood a chance at knowing.

“Was Rangi mad?” She rubbed the side of her face and dried blood flaked off, fluttering towards the ground. “When I left, I mean.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hei-Ran’s face. “Enough to shoot flames out of her ears.”

For a moment, Kyoshi tried to picture it - a steaming mad Rangi, with her face boiling red and fists clenched into tight balls. The last time she’d gotten that upset, the Firebender had flipped a table off a balcony. For a moment, the memory tugged at the corner of Kyoshi’s mouth - lifting it into a lopsided smile.

And then the moment passed.

“I’m sorry I killed your daughter.”

Hei-Ran frowned. “You healed her, Kyoshi.”

Only after Rangi had traveled to fight alongside the girl who’d locked her into the ground and put her mother on a possible death bed. “Because I put her in danger. It doesn’t count. Doing right by her after that was just… canceling out the bad.”

Kyoshi felt like she’d been doing that her whole life: making mistakes and then fixing them. It didn’t seem right to take the credit for something she’d messed up in the first place.

You were the one innocent party, Yun had told her. Oh, if only that were the truth.

“Hei-Ran?” Atuat had emerged from the infirmary, traveling up to where Kyoshi and the headmistress sat. Hei-Ran was on her feet immediately, but whether to appear respectable in front of the doctor or out of fear for what news she’d bring, Kyoshi couldn’t be sure.

“How is she?” Kyoshi found her way to her feet as well, Atuat’s presence sending a fresh wave of worry down her spine.

“Oh good, Kyoshi’s here, too. Saves me a trip.” Atuat took her time reaching them and with each passing moment, Kyoshi found herself more and more on edge. By the time the Waterbender made it over, she could feel her body vibrating again.

“Well?” Hei-Ran demanded, clearly just as impatient as Kyoshi, but with better control over her exterior.

“She’s asleep.” Atuat’s manner always confused Kyoshi a bit. She never seemed exhausted by the threat of death. Perhaps she’d just become too acquainted with it, or maybe mastering the power of healing made her immune to the fear. Either way, she always emerged from battle hospitals like she’d finished a rather routine examination.

“Will she be okay?” Kyoshi remembered the crunch of earth as it impaled Rangi’s back. The way the blood had rushed away from her lips. How she’d looked up at her as the life drained away. “Is the damage permanent? I know I didn’t heal her right. I tried my best, but -”

“Kyoshi.” Atuat held up her hand. “Rangi is a strong girl. She’s going to be alright. In pain, certainly, but in the end alright.”

Kyoshi exhaled shakily, barely able to keep it together enough to thank her.

“You need rest, too, Avatar,” Atuat pressed, motioning down towards the infirmary. “There’s a spare bed down the hill.”

The last thing Kyoshi wanted to do was sleep. How could she just let herself clock out when Rangi needed caring for? When the Flying Opera Company was wounded? When Jinpa still hadn’t come down from his medicine high due to her own poor measurements?

As if Atuat could read her mind, the doctor narrowed her eyes. “That monk is off his rocker. You gave him too much.”

“Sorry, sifu.”

“Rest, Kyoshi,” was the only response she got in return. “And take off those clothes. You’ve got blood all over you.”

///

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Kyoshi jumped a little, hurriedly switching her gaze to the other side of the room and away from Rangi’s bed before deciding hiding it was futile. The Firebender hadn’t moved in over two hours, but apparently, the wounded girl was more perceptive than Kyoshi had anticipated.

“I thought you were sleeping!” Kyoshi whispered, doing her best not to disturb Kirima and Wong, who were asleep in their respective wooden beds.

“I’m resting.” Rangi still hadn’t opened her eyes. “A concept you might not be familiar with.”

A hum of relief ran through Kyoshi’s arms. If Rangi was well enough to give her shit, then maybe that meant the girl would be alright after all.

“I know how to rest.” Kyoshi crossed her arms and did her best to look wounded.

“Yeah, and Jinpa’s a murderer.”

Kyoshi glanced over at her secretary, who was propped up against the wooden headboard and still singing to himself in dulcet tones.

“Kyoshi, please try to sleep,” Rangi pleaded.

Easier said than done. Sitting still seemed too difficult for Kyoshi at the moment, let alone actually falling asleep.

“Yeah, well,” Kyoshi mumbled offhandedly. “I’m not really keen on seeing you die again in my dreams.” It came out sounding more dire than she’d meant.

Only then did Rangi open her eyes, staring at Kyoshi from across the way. “I’m fine.”

It would’ve been a lot more convincing if her hands weren’t locked tight around the thin cotton sheets, compensating for some sort of pain she must be feeling.

“Fine?” Kyoshi stared at her incredulously. “You were stabbed.”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Kirima suddenly cut in, gesturing to her splinted leg. “Some of us are trying to heal!”

Apparently, her ability to tell who was asleep badly needed fine-tuning.

“Noise won’t delay that process!” Kyoshi shot back, trying to keep her smile at bay. She really had missed her friends.

Silence fell back over the infirmary, and Kyoshi allowed herself to lean against the headboard for the first time all night. She drew in a shaky breath, basking in the safety she felt around the Flying Opera Company - even if their legs were broken.

It was a few minutes before Rangi spoke again, lowering her voice to whisper in that raspy way of hers. “You’re pretty far away, you know.”

At first, Kyoshi wanted to protest that of course her energy was distant - she’d killed one of her closest friends and nearly lost the other one - before she realized Rangi was speaking literally. She closed her mouth. Hard.

A little too hard, actually. Her jaw still ached where Yun had thrown the discs.

Rangi even managed a little grin. “Do you think Atuat will kill you for sleeping with a patient?”

Giddy with the idea of lying beside Rangi again, Kyoshi slid out of bed and made her way over to the other side of the room. She’d flirted with the idea of climbing in before, but with Rangi’s fragile state, she hadn’t wanted to cause any more damage than she’d already done.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Rangi mumbled, but Kyoshi still saw her struggle to make space in the small frame.

“This is a bad -”

“Will you quit worrying and just crawl in, please?” Rangi did her best to pat the bed beside her, wincing horribly. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Mmm, what a terrible fate,” Kyoshi grinned, finally allowing herself to gingerly lie down beside Rangi. “Sleeping next to Kyoshi. What an awful - hey!”

Rangi had elbowed her in the ribs. She tried to laugh, but it barely masked the tremor behind it.

“Stop hurting yourself,” Kyoshi hissed, laying an angry kiss on the Firebender’s cheek. “I mean it.”

In response, Rangi moved to curl up closer against Kyoshi’s chest, her eyes falling shut again. For a long while, they stayed just like that - Rangi in too much pain to move and Kyoshi too nervous about causing her any more. It felt awfully reminiscent of the first time they’d shared a bed, with Kyoshi awake all night inhaling the smell of Rangi’s hair against her lips.

Kyoshi had vowed to protect her then, and she still wanted to protect her now. She didn’t miss the way Rangi’s face screwed up as she slept, sleep inhibiting her ability to hide the discomfort. A couple of times, Atuat came to check on her. She clicked her teeth together at the sight of Kyoshi in the bed, but didn’t seem altogether surprised. The doctor didn’t force her away either, something for which Kyoshi was eternally grateful.

In the blue-grey hours of the morning, Kyoshi finally succumbed to the heaviness in her eyelids - letting them shut as her head fell back against the headboard - at last, too tired to worry about any new dangers coming for them that night.

-----

💖 that’s all for now :) i might post a little more soon! i’m very excited to get this up on ao3 in the near future!

💖 if you enjoy my writing and want to commission me, send me a message! my commissions are open!

💖 keep an eye out for more commissioned pieces coming soon :)

#kyoshi #rise of kyoshi #rangshi #rangi #rangi x kyoshi #shadow of kyoshi #avatar the last airbender #writing commissions #my writing #longfic #sneak peak #writing #wlw #avatar kyoshi #atla #fic

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

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Bruised Soul (Reno x Reader)

Character: Reno Sinclair

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injuries

Word Count: 1k words

Requested by anon: could you please write a ficlet about helping patch Reno up after he gets really beaten up? ** i hope i requested right :’) ** i love your blog so so much♡

Reno Sinclair x Gender Neutral Reader

It wasn’t like him to be this late. Or at the very least, not without a warning. If Reno was getting caught up in work, he always sent you a message so you didn’t worry. This time, however, you feared the worst. And just when your thoughts were threatening to drive you mad with concern, there was a knock on the door.

You jumped to your feet, rushing to the door and swinging it open to reveal a beat up Reno being held up by Rude. You looked up at the latter, seeking an explanation. He only sighed and ushered his injured friend until Reno dragged himself closer to you. Immediately, you wrapped an arm around him to support him just like Rude had.

“We had some complications at work” Was his mere explanation.

“I’m fine!” Reno exclaimed somewhat rudely.

“Look after him” His workmate told you, leaving you two alone.

“Reno…” You uttered, taking him inside with you and closing the door behind you with your foot. “Are you okay?”

“What did I just say? I’m-” He suddenly pushed you off him to stand on his own, but it was a mistake. Immediately, he wobbled without your support.

“Reno!” You tightly held him by the arm, successfully avoiding his fall.

“I’m okay…” He groaned, even if he was clutching his side and limping.

You sneaked under his arm and let him drop his weight over you. He sighed in relief as you helped him reach the couch, where he plopped down like a dead weight. For a moment you feared he had fallen unconscious, but his incessant moans of pain told you he hadn’t.

For several seconds you could only stand there, watching him in shock as you noticed more and more wounds by the second. His white shirt was darkened with crimson in many spots and his face was a bit swollen and full of small cuts and bruises, panting his skin red and purple.

You paced up and down, trying to think clearly. You needed to relax. You needed to help him, but didn’t know how. Should you call a doctor? It felt like the wrong decision, as Rude would have taken him there himself… right? Should you try to patch him up yourself then? You didn’t really have any experience in the subject, but maybe…

“Y/N” He tiredly called out, holding your hand to keep you in place. His grip was urgent and desperate, like he was clinging to you. “Stop”

No quips, no jokes, no flirting. Something told you that his body hadn’t been the only thing hurt. It seemed like, whatever had happened, had been enough to hurt him to the core. You wondered what it could have been to leave him with a bruised soul.

“I’ll get the first aid kit” You mumbled, taking a cautious step closer to see if he let go of you. When he reluctantly did, you hurried to the bathroom.

Thoughts buzzed in your mind as you gathered everything you would need.

Reno didn’t often talk about work, and you weren’t exactly sure what he worked as to be honest. You just knew it was dangerous, but it had never affected him like that. He only came back with lots of energy, wanting to unwind and flirt and spend some time with you. But now…

Clutching the supplies in your hands, you returned to the living room with him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and neither did he look at you. Even as you sat down at the edge of the couch, his eyes were still fixed somewhere up ahead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered, afraid to speak too loud.

“Ugh…” Reno groaned, shaking his head. He seemed exhausted. “No”

Your hands were shaking, but you made an effort to focus. Gingerly, you opened his shirt to reveal his bruised chest. Taking deep breaths, you managed to keep your fingers from shaking too badly. Otherwise it would make the task impossible.

“I’ll heal” He told you, finally turning his head to watch you. “It’s no big deal”

“I’m not worried about your injuries… not that alone…” You carefully cleaned off the dry blood, relieved to see the wound was almost closed. “I’m worried about what you did too”

“It’s best to forget it” His voice was devoid of any and all emotions. “Really, Y/N”

That was another way you knew it had impacted him. He was calling you Y/N, only by your name. No ‘babe’, or ‘gorgeous’ or ‘sweetheart’. No nicknames, no fond and cheeky terms of endearments. No nothing. Just emptiness. He was tired and grumpy and fed up.

None of you talked for a while. The heavy silence in the house seemed to contrast with the usual loudness of your voices mingling together, your harmonizing laughter, even the sound of the TV blasting. Now the silence was deafening.

As you finished patching him up, you put extra care on the bandages. You softly passed your fingers over them to ensure they would stick. You bathed him in small kisses all over his face that he seemed to appreciate as they almost brought a smile to his lips. Almost. It almost returned that gleam to his eyes and brought him back to life. Almost.

Reno closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Once he was healed and resting, he seemed to regain some sort of solace and peace. It wasn’t enough to restore his usual energetic and snappy demeanor, but it was progress.

“What do you need?” You kindly asked him, putting the hair away from his eyes.

“Nothing, just for you to be here with me” He urgently took your hand in both of his, squeezing it tight as though you were the only thing capable of anchoring him to that peace.

And as you carefully lie down with him in the couch, he finally took a deep breath. He could finally breathe. Your closeness was making his wounds sore, and his posture was uncomfortable in such a small space. Still, he finally felt okay once he was with you again.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @anxiouslyreckless / @xionroxas / @dancewaterdance02 / @little-faerie-artist / @x-joie-x / @honeybunhanbin / @legallyblindgamer727 / @lotsoffandomstoimagine / @imaginealllthefandoms / @fandomatakeover18 / @emmajunior90 / @trunks-kiwi / @andsoweshalldepart // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#rfi writings #reno x reader #reno sinclair x reader #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii ficlet #ficlet #ff #ffvii #ffvii ficlet #reno sinclair #reno sinclair ficlet #reno of the turks #reader insert #requested

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gothamslittlejester · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet with Phoenix!Joker and Ledger!Joker

Hello, I am not dead. I’m really sorry I haven’t posted in forever, so here’s a pretty long piece for both the clownbois to make up for it for you guys (hopefully,, aghhh). I hope my joker license has not been revoked lol, forgive me lovelies.

The characters will be written separately, but feel free to imagine them together if you wish! I just thought writing them both at once made for an interesting comparison. Phoenix!Joker will be referred to as Arthur, and Ledger!Joker as J. I didn’t do all the alphabet letters because some were repetitive, so here’s the ones I thought would make good headcannons!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Out of the two, Arthur is considerably more affectionate. Being so deprived of love for so long, he doesn’t hesitate to absolutely smother you in affection 24/7, whether that be through kisses, long hugs and warm smiles, or more subtle actions like helping you clean around the house or washing your hair in the bath. He may be a killer clown, but he can’t help dotting on you every time you’re together.

· He also praises you any chance he gets, cooing in your ears how amazing you are and how much you mean to him. He wants you to feel loved in every way possible, both verbally and physically.

· His favorite way of showing affection is making you laugh or cheering you up whenever you’re down. Bad jokes? Cute magic tricks? Running your boss over with a truck? He knows the blues can come and go as they please and they can really affect your whole mood, so he makes sure to always bring some happiness in your life.

Ledger!Joker

· J shows his affection in much more subtle ways, although with time you find yourself picking up on them effortlessly. He may not always vocalize his affection, but there’s no denying his adoration for you.

· He’s very playful with you; tickle fights, wrestling matches, pinching your ass and ruffling your hair are all things you grow accustomed to, and they never fail to make you laugh. If you blush or squeak in response to his antics, J will think it’s the cutest and funniest thing in the world. He’ll only be more encouraged to get that response out of you next time, so good luck to you.

· At night, his displays of affection shift from playful to more protective and domineering. If he’s feeling suddenly possessive of you, he envelops you in a protective hug and pulls you into his chest. His side of the bed will always the one closest to the door in case of trouble.

· His affection is very physical, and will often be shown through actions. He’ll take care of any inconvenience you have- someone bother you, sweetheart? You never see them again.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Arthur will always be there for you, listening to you vent for hours, helping you with any little chore or problem you have and just chilling with you by the television for hours. He’s never had someone to confide in and care for him, and every understanding look and encouraging smile you give him is stored in a special place in his heart.

· Not only is he a great listener for you too, but his advice is never halfhearted. If you have a problem, or something you’re uncertain about, he’ll do his best to help you sort it out until you’re confident again. He’ll be there for you no matter what, because you’ll be there for him too.

Ledger!Joker

· Now, Having J as a friend is extremely chaotic and often leads to him dragging you away to join him on some illegal adventure at 3 in the morning. Are you gonna go rob a bank or go scare the elderly? Who knows, who cares! Just get dressed and join him!

· Philosophical conversations with J are incredible. He never dismisses your ideas or thoughts of the world, encouraging you to always speak your mind, filter free. There’s no need to hide from him, ever.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Phoenix!Joker

· When he cuddles you, Arthur feels like all his problems just melt away, and therefor will not let go of your body for hours. It’s therapeutic and heals his soul in a way that his medication never could.

· His little secret is that he loves it when he’s the little spoon, or just generally being cradled by you. Lying on top of your chest just to hear your heartbeat? Absolute heaven.

· His favorite thing to do is to rub his nose in the crook of your neck and take a big breath, relishing in your scent. It makes him feel so safe and loved he could cry, and during bad days he probably has. Even after he turned into Joker, it would take a bulldozer to rip his grabby hands away from your warm body. Due to how frail and cold his body is, he’s not the epitome of a teddy bear, but the amount of love and comfort that radiate off of him is enough to make for that. It’s nothing a warm blanket can’t fix, and his kisses are the warmest all year round.

Ledger!Joker

· Now, J would never admit it, but he’s just as big of a cuddler as Arthur. I know, I know, controversial! But there is no way you can convince me that this man isn’t an attention seeking, touch starved, hug deprived needy little asshole. Having you wrap your arms around him in the middle of the night, melting into his body with a satisfied sigh, is cocaine to him. Feeling you playfully jump on his back and embrace him from behind makes J want to blow up the city for you. He’ll do it too, don’t tempt him.

· Only difference is, he much more prefers it when you initiate it- seeing you all needy and pouty for him just makes him so giddy. What’s that Y/N? You’re desperate for him? Well, I guess he can hold you in his arms, since he’s so generous...

· Of course, he’s not shy either, and will get his way if need be. If you sit more than 2 inches away from him on the couch you’re instantly pulled onto his lap, and don’t even think about falling asleep without being buried in his side. He wants to feel loved, dammit!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Arthur’s kisses are soft and dotting, always gentle and loving. He often moans into the kiss and pulls you closer, never getting enough of you. They can be desperate and needy after a long day away from you, but they are generally very sweet and slow.

· He likes to press kisses all over your face and cheeks, liking the way you giggle as he peppers them all over you. He really cant get enough of you, and just the knowledge that he has someone in his life that enjoys being intimate with him leaves Arthur completely awed.

· He’ll take any sort of kiss from you without complaint, but his favorite is when you’re holding him from behind, either in bed or in the bath, and press a gentle one to his back. It makes him feel loved and safe, which he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ledger!Joker

· When J kisses you, he truly does steal your breath away. All his passion, obsession and need for you are conveyed effortlessly with the way he moves against your mouth and wraps his arms around your body in a protective manner.

· Although oftentimes rough and sensual, his kisses can also be very teasing and playful. He’ll kiss your hand in a romantic manner just to see you blush and shake your head, or leave little hickeys down neck that he likes to kiss again later. He’s also not opposed to licking you, so watch out for that.

· He’ll never admit it, but he loves it when you lean up to kiss his cheek. It’s such a sweet and gentle action, something he’s not accustomed to whatsoever, and it leaves him feeling very warm and protective inside. Especially when your lips brush against his scars- knowing you love them and want to show them affection makes J want to kill for you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Phoenix!Joker

·Arthur loves being there for children, especially the less fortunate ones. Despite how crazy and ruthless Joker can be, he would never even dream of laying a hand on a child.

· There are times when he remembers the joy that his old persona “Carnival” could bring to the sad young faces of all those kids, and it’s enough to make him grimace and reminisce on what he lost.

· He’d never expect to start a family with you while he’s out being criminal menace as a full time job, but there are times where he allows his imagination to run wild, picturing a world with a better life for the both of you, his children playing in the garden while you grow old together.

Ledger!Joker

· J... J is a bully. He doesn’t have the patience whatsoever to deal with children at all, and overall just finds their incessant questions mind-numbing. They’re not even good questions- questions that provoke a philosophical debate or reconsideration of our purpose in the universe for example- just dumb ones that can be googled in a second. Why is the sky blue? Give him a break.

· Now, He wouldn’t go out of his way to single out a child and brutally kill them- he wants his victims to fully understand their doom, and kids don’t have that level of comprehension yet- but if one of those smug little shits happened to be carrying around a balloon, ho ho! It’s getting popped on sight. You know that saying “steeling lollipops from babies?” Yeah, that’s J.

· May not be a big fan of kids, but if you ever need a top quality dead baby joke, he’s your guy!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Having had so many jobs in his life, Arthur has adapted to waking up in the early morning with ease.

· If he has to go somewhere, he’ll quietly tiptoe around the apartment as he gets ready, careful not wake you up as he gets dressed in his red suit and applies his makeup. He’ll place a gentle kiss to your temple just before he has to leave, staring adoringly at your peaceful face for a few minutes.

· If he has nothing planned, Arthur will just lay in bed until you wake up naturally, enjoying the feeling on your arm body pressed against him.

Ledger!Joker

· J is a drama queen. Being mostly nocturnal, J doesn’t even get out of his REM sleep cycle until like 3 pm at the earliest.

· On those days where he gets woken up at, god forbid, 9 am, he’ll be so groggy and grumpy that not even coffee can save him.

· Alarm wakes him up? That’s now enemy number one. Someone outside being loud? If he had the energy, they’d be dead. And don’t think you’re getting out of bed without him either. He’ll pull you back and wrap all his limbs around you like a snake, snuggling into you so you can’t leave.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Arthur only really gets angry when someone attacks him or tries to make him feel worthless. As Joker, he’s definitely gained quite a bit of confidence, and will start a fight with strangers for the smallest of reasons, but they rarely actually make him angry.

· His patience in general is actually quite remarkable. Most of his schemes and plots take quite a while to plan out, and although he does rely on luck here and there, he puts in quite a few hours at a time to flesh out the details.

· He’ll wait as long as he needs to get what he wants. For example, it’s not like he shy’s away from stalking people, and that takes quite a bit of resilience and patience.

Ledger!Joker

· J is... an emotional man. An open book. He almost never gets angry at you- unless you do something stupid like put yourself in harms way- but everyone else? All it takes is very trivial inconveniences to get him riled up and ready to murder some poor soul on sight.

· He’ll be patient for a while if he needs to work on some elaborately villainous scheme, but after a few days of obsessing over the schematics he’ll start to get antsy and bored. He’s a man of action, who has the time for all this planning?

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Arthur would do his very best to make dates and anniversaries special. Dinner from your favorite restaurant, long walks by the place you first met, movie nights under a warm fort with intermediate pillow fights; Arthur will always find something that will put a smile on your face.

· He may not have that much money to begin with, but after adapting into his joker persona, a little bit of petty theft is nothing too unacceptable. Especially since he can use the extra cash to treat his lover to the most lavish things.

Ledger!Joker

· J would absolutely spoil you. Unfortunately due to his “job”, he has to leave you for hours or even days at a time to do his business, and he knows you tend to feel lonely in those times. So for him, date night is about you. And he’ll be damned if you don’t get the best present, meal and clown in Gotham all to yourself.

· You want your favorite snack? He’ll get you a bucket-full.

· You want that new dress you saw at the mall, but can’t afford it? Neither can he! Join him for some late-night theft and he’ll grab the garment just for you.

· You want to spend the whole night tucked away in his arms as he cuddles you for hours? “Come to daddy~”

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Phoenix!Joker

· Arthur sometimes forgets to eat, a habit that scares you. You don’t mean to nag, but you just can’t help it when you see how thin and weak Arthur becomes after barely eating anything.

· You know he doesn’t do it on purpose, and you never hold it against him, but it does scare you when you see how weak and exhausted he gets. You make sure to always fill the cabinets with snacks and get him to eat dinner whenever he’s home, but who knows if he eats while he’s out causing panic in Gotham.

· The smoking is also a bit of an issue, but you’d rather make sure your clown is well fed before you tackle this other issue.

Ledger!Joker

· J’s teeth can be... very much a turnoff sometimes. Stained to hell with a coffee addiction and lack of hygiene, it made kissing him an experience at first.

· He soon began trying to make himself more dapper and charming just for his little one (yes you) once his need for you grew, but sometimes he just forgets. He knew his hygiene wasn’t his best quality, and he often smelled like dried blood and gasoline, so he makes sure to take a shower when he can. Plus, he figured quite quickly that you like the smell of his cologne…

· You can’t be too mad though, not with a smile so bright and yellow it matches the sun!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Phoenix!Joker

· For Arthur, yes. When you finally admitted your feelings for him, he knew you were the first and last person who will ever give his life meaning. He would rip out his lungs if you asked- just if it meant seeing you another day.

· Leaving him would break his soul and put him in such a dark, black space that not even Joker’s red suit would have color there.

· It’s not the healthiest, and he doesn’t want to scare you away, but his obsession and need for you will never die down. He loves you, and you really do make him whole.

Ledger!Joker

· For J, his feelings aren’t that far off from Arthur’s. As his obsession with you grows, so does his adoration and glee. Everyday he finds new quirks and traits of yours that he likes, and everyday he begins to expect them, to crave them, to need them.

· He’ll find out what you like to do, what your favorite things are, what makes you truly and utterly happy, and he’ll store them in his memory to spoil you later.

· J’s love is absolutely obsessive and possessive, like a child with a doll he refuses to share even for a second, but that’s all he knows. He’ll never hurt you or lay his hands on you, but his love is nothing short of mad.

· Leaving him is not an option. Ever. He’ll do anything to ensure that you stay right in his line of sight, and putting you in a pretty glass cage is not beyond him. You make him happy, and whole- you complete him- so why would he ever throw that away?

#joker x reader #joker headcannons #ledger joker #Arthur fleck x reader #ledger joker x reader #TDK joker #my writing

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

Pirate Island

Summary: The Ericson pirates travel uncharted seas, unsure when they will find land, when suddenly Willy spots an island.

Word Count: 7292

Read on A03:

Louis tilted his head back and let the warm sun pierce his skin as he took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, there was really nothing like it. It symbolized the endless potential of adventure. Today, Louis was sure, would be an adventure. It always was with the Ericson pirates whether that be through the many shenanigans on Ol’ Kickass or when they arrived at a port town.

Louis glanced out towards the sea; he hoped they’d find some sort of port town soon - their produce wouldn’t last much longer. Not only would that lose them precious ducats that they could spend on important things like sea shanties but it would also make the lower deck reek. The smell would linger for days and soon they would forget about all the dirt and grime they had on themselves and be overwhelmed by how it smelled like fruity death down there.

With a deep sigh Louis walked back towards the ship’s wheel where Marlon stood. His best friend’s eyes were focused ahead, his stance solid and his shoulders set. He was sure to ensure it was smooth sailing as long as he was in charge. He was so focused in fact that it wasn’t until Louis strolled up the stairs along with Rosie that Marlon even glanced over. Once he did, a warm smile appeared on his lips. “Hey there, Lou,” Marlon’s smile faltered when he saw the look deep within Louis’ eyes that he was trying to hide beneath a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing, just thought I’d check on my first mate! I even brought the ever so lovely Rosie!” Louis gestured to the pitbull who barked happily. Trotting over, Rosie began to claw at Marlon’s leg for some attention. With a small chuckle Marlon obliged and gave some pats to the pitbull along with some scratches behind the ear. But soon the blond pirate’s focus returned to the sea.

“I’ve known you long enough, Lou. You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Marlon gently turned the wheel left to guide the ship away from a pile of rocks a fair distance away.

Louis looked surprised by his friend’s words for a second but his smile soon returned. “Damn, I thought I could pull a fast one on you,” He leaned on the rail in front of the ship’s wheel.

“Have you ever been able to pull a fast one on me?” Marlon gave a grin that made Louis chuckle.

“I don’t know, maybe when we were ten,” Louis turned his body around and glanced up at the upper deck of the ship. Brody was working on fixing the riggings along with Mitch. Every so often the two would hold hands for a moment before slipping them away from each other. It was obvious based on their giddy expressions and being overwhelmed by the smallest thing that this was the first serious relationship either of them had had.

The captain’s eyes continued to wander and paused when he saw Clementine happily sparring with AJ. Both of them were absolutely exhilarated by the chance to spar together. It was clear from the soft thwack that appeared every few seconds from their wooden swords colliding and the confident auras that both of them radiated. Both of them were trying to use smack talk to get the upperhand in the fight by throwing the other off their game. Neither of them were any good at it but they didn’t seem to mind and the rest of the crew seemed to enjoy the unique insults they were hurling each other’s way.

While the two of them were caught up in the joy of sparring together, Prisha and Aasim were busy gushing over things only the two of them seemed to care for out of the whole crew: cartography. Both of them spoke animatedly as Aasim held out a map, showing his friend the vast seas they had yet to explore. The pair were especially thrilled to head out towards the northwestern seas next. Soon the two of them passed Ruby and Tenn who were busy making sure medical supplies were set. The redheaded pirate spoke clearly and concisely as a wide smile pulled on her lips, happy to have an apprentice of sorts in terms of healing. Tenn mirrored Ruby’s smile although his smile was quieter as he nodded along to her lessons.

Louis took a deep breath and glanced back at Marlon. “Our produce is about to go bad and while the crew seems happy, I bet all of them want a break from Ol’ Kickass,”

Marlon nodded along to those words. “Yeah, it would probably be best if we found a port town to aim for and spend a few days there,”

“Yeah. I just remembered, last time I talked with Aasim he said we were heading into uncharted seas. I told him that that's where the adventure was waiting and didn’t think twice,” Louis lightly laughed at his own choice as he spun his pirate hat in his hands before placing it back on his head.

“Don’t go kicking yourself, Lou. I’m sure we’ll find land soon enough,” Marlon smiled reassuringly. Louis returned it, although his smile seemed less genuine.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Louis sighed and turned his focus on Rosie as his friend continued to steer the ship.

As luck would have it Marlon did turn out to be right. After half a day more of sailing Willy called out from the crow’s nest that Violet was squished in as well, clearly there because of Willy’s incessant begging.

“Marlon, we got a weird-looking island far out on the starboard side of the ship!” Willy cupped his hands, creating such volume that both Violet and Garbage seemed to be hissing at its force.

“Knowing Willy it's probably another island filled with squirrels,” Marlon sighed as he looked over at Louis.

“I don’t know, Squirrel Island was kind of fun,” Louis offered and noticed Marlon’s frown.

“Those squirrels were little terrors,” Marlon took a deep breath then called back to Willy.

“Alright, I’ll steer the ship towards there! Keep an eye out if it looks dangerous!”

“Aye, aye!’ Willy gave a toothy grin then went back to his story he was sharing with Violet while he held Garbage in his arms. Marlon and Louis shared a look then chuckled before Marlon set course for the island.

Soon with Louis’ instructions, Willy and Violet’s mixed directions and the teamwork of the crew they arrived at an island. From one glance it was clear this was no ordinary island. Palm trees grew everywhere around the entrance surrounded by white sands and rocky shores where dark blue waters crashed against a shipwreck that stood out proudly. On the shipwreck were nearly a dozen skeletons, all dressed as privateers with their deep blue coats and special hats. It was made in the sort of mocking way that made it obvious that those kinds weren’t welcome here.

Erupting from above the palm trees was a large cream-colored building where a black flag with crossbones and a skull flew proudly. This was pirate land. That became even more abundantly clear when the rowdy sounds of pirates filled the air as Ol’ Kickass anchored right by the docks. After making sure the anchor was placed and the sails were safely secured the crew gathered around Louis.

“Alright, crew! Here’s what we’re going to do. Prisha, Aasim, and Omar will go sell our wares along with me. The rest of you get a gist of the rules of this place but as of now, no fighting and no adventuring. Today is just a chore day,”

Those words made Willy and AJ groan loudly.

“I know, I know, boring,” Louis shook his head sadly.

“I think chore day is actually fun,” Aasim mumbled and readjusted his cravat in annoyance.

“But we gotta make sure this place is safe enough for us to rest for a few days and our fruit is this close to stinking up the place,” Louis held his fingers barely a hair’s breadth together. Everyone seemed to agree with their captain’s words and soon they were off doing their respective tasks. Louis led the way after he stole at least a dozen kisses from Clementine. Prisha, Omar and Aasim followed behind him. Ruby, Tenn and Brody headed out to search for medical supplies and as for the rest of them, save for Violet and Mitch who stayed behind to guard the ship while having spitting contests, they went searching around for any information they could get on this piratey island.

It was a fairly straightforward day. With Louis’ charm, Omar’s calmness and Prisha and Aasim’s ferocious need to barter they got great deals on their wares. Ruby, Brody and Tenn were able to find thread and needles as well as other medical supplies and alcohol that was sure to clean any kind of wound. Violet won the spitting contest which turned Mitch into the grumpiest pirate amongst the crew that day and as for the rest of them, they learned a few things about this island. It was an island where only pirates were allowed and there were no rules besides those that pirates abided by.

When the crew all returned to Ol’ Kickass they discussed whether to stay or not and after some long debate they decided to go for it. The news seemed to make Willy and AJ particularly happy. The two young pirates were beyond excited to go adventuring tomorrow, while listening to the words and rules of the older pirates of course.

Soon the night melted into a new day and the crew was ready to go exploring. Willy gave a mighty pirate call, swinging from one of the ropes and landing harshly onto the docks.

“Willy, don’t break anything!” Violet called out to the rambunctious pirate.

“Yeah! Not without me!” Mitch grinned at Willy and the glint in their eyes made it clear they wanted to find something explosively fun to do.

“Just don’t blow up part of the ship again,” Brody walked forward and stood beside Mitch.

“I won’t,” Mitch grumbled then added in a quieter voice, “I promise,” His fingers reached out for Brody’s and they soon intertwined.

“Good,” Brody smiled up at her love before pressing a kiss to his cheek which made it turn bright red.

“Damn, I didn’t know we had lobsters on our ship,” Louis teased Mitch, his arms wrapped around Clementine.

“Whatever,” Mitch flipped off the captain as he walked off the ship with his love but soon received some scolding from Brody for his action. It didn’t take long for the two of them to move past it though and soon they were lost in the excitement of exploring the island and their new relationship.

Louis hugged Clementine a bit tighter then planted a kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘mwuah’ sound. “Shall we go, m’lady? I think adventure and fun awaits!” He smiled at Clementine who immediately returned it.

“An adventure with you? Sounds perfect,” Clementine pressed a kiss to one of Louis’ hands which made him grow flustered. He couldn’t focus on it long though as Clementine held his hand and led the way off the ship.

“Ready, my treasure?” Aasim asked Ruby as his thumb brushed against the top of hers.

“I sure am! I heard from Marlon yesterday that he’d heard some pirates talk about a tavern that has the most divine dinners,” Ruby swung their joined hands as they casually strolled down the dock.

“Well then I will make sure you get the best food on all of this island,” Aasim stole a soft kiss from Ruby and the two were quickly in the middle of the pack. Behind them was Marlon who gave Rosie a special treat in thanks for her staying behind as watch before jogging forward to talk with Omar. AJ was behind them, talking animatedly with Tenn about how many cool pirate things they could draw here when suddenly Louis scooped up AJ.

“Wanna have a better view, little dude?” Louis placed AJ on his shoulders then handed up his pirate hat for the youngest pirate to wear.

“Yeah! This is awesome!” AJ shot out his hands and almost lost his balance but soon regained it by grabbing Louis’ dreads. “Oops, did I do a bad?”

Louis shook his head, only in part to shake off the pain of his dreads being yanked on. “Nope, little man. It’s all good,” He gave a thumbs up then returned his hand into Clementine’s.

Prisha and Violet led the back of the pack, casually talking about what they looked forward to doing on this island knowing that there was no risk of guards or privateers getting them. Both of them seemed absolutely lost in each other’s eyes when suddenly Garbage’s frantic hissing made them look back to see the pirate possum scampering forward. After a minute Garbage had successfully found Willy again and crawled up on his shoulder, leaving a few scratch marks along the way. Willy didn’t seem to mind though and eagerly chatted about his potential adventures with his favorite pirate pet.

The crew all walked happily together, quickly getting hit with the sounds of sea shanties which made the captain’s eyes sparkle with joy and he excitedly spoke to Clementine and AJ. The sea shanties that they were hearing along this particular stretch of the island all seemed to center around alcohol. A set of three pirates were singing All for Me Grog while a group of five across the way were belting out Whisky Johnny O’ .

“We definitely gotta pick up some sea shanties here!” Louis beamed over at Clementine who smiled and gave his hand a small squeeze.

“Sounds good to me,”

As the group continued forward they reached the inner workings of the island where life and chaos were happily coinciding. Pirates of all genders were flirting amongst each other, trying to impress others with their feats of strength while other pirates seemed to be itching for a fight and decided to pick it with the closest pirate they could find. The Ericson pirates steered clear of those types of pirates but were still enjoying their time there.

All of them were happy to finally be back on land, especially a piece of land that didn’t have people out for their heads. Their footsteps were lost amongst the lively sounds of life around them when suddenly Louis’ ears perked up when he heard the wonderful harmony of a hurdy gurdy, flute and some sort of percussion instruments. As he led the way he saw that the three pirate musicians were happily playing a tune so that any pirate could dance in the square to their heart’s content.

“Oh! We have to do this!” Louis ran forward with Clementine along with AJ on his shoulders. The captain soon took the center of the square while the majority of his crew watched. Placing AJ down, Louis did a quick bow with his hat. “M’lady, would you do this captain the honor of a dance?” Louis’ eyes looked up into Clementine’s eyes with a playful love within them. Before Clementine had a chance to say yes, AJ had grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him.

“I wanna dance with Clem first!” AJ smiled over at Louis who returned it. Within seconds AJ was spinning around with Clementine happily.

“Oh no! Whoever will I dance with now?” Louis placed the captain’s hat dramatically over his heart and waited until the music began to swell. With a mischievous grin he dashed over and grabbed Aasim’s hands. “I pick you!”

“Wait a minute!” Aasim protested but it was too late; he was thrown into the dance circle where Louis danced and spun him around.

“It’s time to let loose and dance, captain’s orders!” Louis teasingly told his crew who all waited to see who would make the next move. Prisha smiled over softly at Violet and was about to ask for a dance when Willy suddenly snagged her one good arm.

“Come on, Prisha! Let's dance!” Willy gave a toothy grin and Prisha couldn’t help but agree. Soon Willy was leading the way, dancing in his unique style as Prisha’s light laughter filled the air. Garbage bounced around on top of his head, fearfully hissing before the young pirate stopped abruptly. “You too, Mitch! Dance!”

“No fucking way!” Mitch waved a hand and tried to act cool when suddenly Brody pushed him into the circle. He gave a frown but soon was swept up in the dance circle.

“Let’s boogie!” Ruby grabbed Omar’s hands with a laugh and pulled him into the circle. The two danced around, kicking their feet together and laughing as the lively, heartwarming song ensued. The music continued for some time when all of a sudden Marlon began to clap to the beat and quickly got Brody to join the dance circle.

“Wanna dance, Vi?” Tenn looked up at Violet who gave a soft smile and a shrug.

“Sure,” Violet held Tenn’s hand and the two quietly joined.

Different members of the Ericson pirates began to clap to the beat as they danced in a circle, kicking feet with their partners before hooking arms and switching. Ruby and Brody laughed as they danced together, both on a mission to steal back their loves while Prisha kept trying to reach Violet but every time she got close Willy surprised her with another dance.

As the song reached its last section the different couples were determined and moved at a faster pace, working with their dance partners to reunite with their loves. Twirling around and using light footwork the couples got back together one by one and spun around again and again until the song stopped and the Ericson pirates all stood in the center. The crew caught their breaths, their chest heaving as their smiles grew. Moments like this together were absolutely priceless and they couldn’t wait to make more memories on this island.

After the dance, Willy quickly got distracted by having a palm tree climbing contest with AJ. Both of them threw large declarations that they were the best climbers before trying their best to prove it. Meanwhile Ruby and Aasim were happily sharing a quiet moment together off to the side as Aasim spoke words of affection and poetry to his fiery love. Prisha and Violet were sitting side by side sharing a few soft kisses. Violet then proceeded to place her head on Prisha’s shoulder. The taller pirate pressed a kiss to the top of her love’s head then rested her head on top of hers. Prisha looked out and watched in amusement as Mitch and Clementine were getting competitive.

“I can kick way more pirate ass than you!” Clementine stood up and got close to Mitch who looked shocked for a moment but a competitive grin soon pulled on his lips.

“Ha! Maybe when I’m eighty you’ll finally kick more ass than me!” Mitch smirked when he saw how annoyed Clementine was getting.

“Oh yeah? Let’s make a bet. Whoever can get the most ducats from pirate duels wins!” Clementine quickly spit in her hand and held it out. Mitch laughed and spat in his hand, slamming it into Clementine’s and giving it a firm shake.

“Deal. Winner gets all the ducats won,”

“Deal,”

“You got this, Clem!” Louis appeared from behind Clementine and surprised her with a kiss. That seemed to melt away the intimidating exterior of the pirate who soon returned the affection.

“Good luck, Mitch,” Brody gave her love a quick kiss on the cheek. Mitch grew incredibly flustered at that and Clementine saw her chance.

“Ready, set, go!” Clementine was off like a shot, already on her way to her first duel.

“Hey, wait! Fuck! That was cheap!” Mitch yelled and sprinted off with an angry cry as he tried to find his first opponent.

The competition lasted for quite some time and after a while Clementine and Mitch both collapsed onto the ground.

“I won, you little-” Clementine wheezed. “Shit,”

“”Fu-” Mitch gasped for air “Ck!”

The rest of the crew gathered around giving congratulations to both of them while Clementine flaunted her ducats and immediately bragged about how she'd spend them: half on dates and half on a new badass blade. A few minutes passed and the crew all decided to go grab some food at the local tavern. Clementine tried to get up but immediately felt her legs turned to jelly.

“Don’t worry, my darling!” Louis swept her up and carried her bridal style. “I’ll carry you!”

“Louis! Wait!” Clementine grew flustered but it was too late. Soon the others followed them with Mitch and Brody leading the back.

“I think you were pretty badass,” Brody gave Mitch’s hand a small squeeze. Those words made him smile and he immediately wrapped her up in a hug before pulling away quickly.

“It was no big deal,” The taller pirate tried to play it cool but Brody could see how much the words meant to him.

It didn’t take long for them to find the tavern where they supposedly had amazing food. Louis went about ordering the drinks and meals while the rest of them secured a few tables. Once they sat down Marlon noticed the wanted posters on the walls, placed there as a sign of pride for all the chaos the pirate captains and their crews had caused. Amongst them were pictures of all the Ericson pirates drawn in the usual inaccurate fashion.

“Wow, that Louis one is super accurate,” Violet commented, drawing the crews’ eyes to the wanted post which displayed Louis with a large evil smile and what looked to be a giant spider as his hair.

“Hey! I don’t look like that!” Louis huffed. “My hair looks even more spider-like in person,” Louis rolled with the joke and soon the others found the other wanted posters and pointed each out. Marlon’s looked like he had giant spikes on his head while Omar’s looked like he didn’t have any eyes. Willy’s wanted poster had him looking like a small gremlin pirate which the whole crew including him agreed was accurate.

Before they could spot all of the posters and talk about them though the food had arrived. Steaming plates of the finest seafood were brought before them along with fresh rolls. As AJ grabbed a roll he tore it open, revealing the soft, white, fluffy bread. Grabbing some butter he slathered it on the roll. The butter melted in an instant, soaking into the bread and enhancing its flavor.

While Willy and AJ chowed down on the rolls the rest dug into their seafood. The freshness of it was apparent in every bit as the flaky fish melted in their mouths. The crab was a particularly delicious choice as its subtle flavor tempted the palate to eat more and more. Garbage was just as happy with her food of choice: a simple apple that Willy had sliced for her. The possum licked the apple with happy hisses. Their time in the tavern was a simple joy. The crew talked, ate and drank happily without a care in the world when suddenly the tavern doors burst open.

In walked a man of alarming height. His outfit and demeanor made it clear he was the captain of his crew who all entered with wicked laughs, telling tales that left bad tastes in the Ericson pirates’ mouths. Behind them all was a curvy girl of average height. Her brown eyes peered from below her short black hair and seemed to hold a world of kindness in them. Kindness that was clearly not given to her as she struggled to carry around the crew’s treasure for seemingly no other reason than as a show of their wealth. The girl placed down the treasure and nearly fell over, a large bead of sweat trickling down her face.

“Wench! Get us drinks! Or else you may wish you sank with that ship that we saved your sorry hide from!” the captain shouted and his men laughed. The girl nodded and soon left to get the rum. The Ericson pirates watched on, all of them feeling their emotions roil due to the injustice they were seeing. The girl soon appeared back with drinks and the pirates heartily drank.

“Perhaps she can dance for us!” one of the pirates suggested and the others cheered in agreement.

The girl stood frozen in her spot, her hands by her side slowly curling into fists. “No,”

Her soft voice made the pirates glance her way.

“What do you mean no, girlie?” The captain spoke in a low tone. In an instant he grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. “I spared your life! Out of the entire ship only you lived, so show some fucking gratitiude or else,” His voice was filled with warning.

Violet felt her stomach twist. While she couldn’t see clearly she was sure what the implications of those words meant. The other members of the crew soon noticed some bruises on the girl’s arms; the anger in their hearts grew.

The captain chuckled and pulled her chin towards his. The pirate’s breath reek of old fish and alcohol. “I hate being disagreed with.”

All of the Ericson pirates wanted to stop this, to make a move and get that girl away from this awful crew. Violet’s fists curled tightly but she wasn’t the first to make a move. Instead that honor went to Ruby who slammed her tankard down onto the table hard, causing a thin hairline crack to appear along the side of it.

“Get your filthy hands off of her,” Ruby warned and the captain as well as his men looked over her way.

“Hmm? Something to say, wench? Care to join her as one of my servants?” The captain held a twisted smile on his lips. “You two match well,”

“How dare-”

Aasim was cut short as Ruby slammed her fist on the table, her eyes burning with anger. “I’d rather make you eat your teeth!”

Ruby’s words made the captain frown before he burst out in laughter. “What a fiery wench you are! Alright, I’ll humor you with an arm wrestling competition. If I win, you apologize to me and if you win-”

“I’m fine with the satisfaction of kicking your ass,” Ruby strode forward, looking small in comparison to the captain of this crew. His crew laughed in amusement and before any of the Ericson pirates could say otherwise Ruby was seated at a table across from the captain. Rolling up her sleeve, she positioned her arm and soon the captain did the same. Once they were all set one of the captain’s crew counted down.

As soon as the countdown was done Ruby’s eyes took on a threatening glint and with all her strength she slammed down the man’s hand. That action alone would be impressive but the fiery short redheaded pirate had gone a step further. Her strength had set the man off his center, causing him to tumble over with the force of the move and crash into a chair, smashing it to pieces. Both crews stood there in shock until Mitch spoke up.

“Fuck yeah! Fuck ‘em up, Ruby!” Mitch pumped his fist in the air.

“You little bitch!” The pirate captain coughed as he rose. With a mighty swing he tried to hit Ruby but she dodged it.

The fiery pirate curled her fist and sent it crashing into the captain’s stomach. “Better be ready, I’m about to whoop your ass!” Ruby slammed her fist into her open palm. Aasim felt himself at a loss for words as he stared at his love in all her glory. She was amazing.

This wasn’t a funny joke or game anymore. The opposing crew soon charged to take down the pirate that had made their captain look bad.

“You won’t touch her!” Aasim charged forward and swung his fist, breaking teeth and sending a pirate flying back.

All bets were off now and soon the tavern erupted into chaos. Pirates charged at the table with mighty cries. Mitch and Marlon shared a smile and lifted up their tankards. Clinking them together, they downed their drinks then used the empty tankards to smash in their enemies’ faces.

“This is what you get for being shit!” Marlon slammed his tankard once more into a pirate’s face.

Prisha backstepped, dancing around a pirate’s attack before she unsheathed her blade. Using the hilt of the sword, she jabbed it into the man’s gut repeatedly before proceeding to knock him out as he keeled over, her sword’s hilt colliding with his face and smashing his nose.

Violet stood on the table to get away from all the chaos of the tavern and have a decent chance at fighting. It wasn’t longer until an opponent arrived. Cautiously Violet dodged attack after attack until she grabbed a chair and with a heavy hit shattered it into pieces on top of the pirate’s body. Prisha was in absolute awe of her love’s strength and Violet looked over with a proud smile when suddenly she noticed a pirate sneaking up on Prisha.

“Prisha!” Violet called out and gave a signal to Prisha. Prisha immediately held out her arm and wrapped it around Violet as she landed. With a secure hold on Violet, Prisha swung her love to her side where Violet proceeded to knock out the enemy with her foot. After Prisha placed Violet down the two shared a quick smile then continued their fight.

AJ, Willy and Tenn worked together, tag teaming pirates left and right. With harsh punches from AJ to their weak spots in between the legs, brutal foot stompings by Tenn and slingshot attacks from Willy, any pirates who faced them were doomed. That was before accounting for the ferocious Garbage who hissed as she scampered about, crawling up pant legs and biting down on the enemies’ noses. Omar used the plates on the table as makeshift weapons, weakening the enemies with kicks before breaking dinnerware over their heads.

“I’ll pay for all the plates I break!” Omar called out to the tavern owner who was still processing what was happening.

The girl was overwhelmed by the sudden chaos but that didn’t stop her from getting some good punches in, knocking out a few of the pirates that had made her life hell. She was about to lash out again when Louis pulled her out of harm’s way at the last second.

“That was close!’ Louis smiled at the girl. “I’m Louis, and you are?”

“Nurgul,” the girl gave a soft smile. “Thanks,”

“Think nothing of it! Just an ordinary day for the Ericson pirates!” Louis grinned then used his sword to cut a tankard in half that was aimed for Nurgul’s head. “Hey! Don’t be an asshat!” Louis proceeded to beat the pirate who’d thrown the tankard in a swordfight then kick his butt into a nearby barrel. He gave a smile back at Nurgul then looked over to see Clementine weaving through an enemy pirate’s attacks, outmaneuvering him then using her peg leg to crush his toes. When the pirate cried out Clementine grabbed a bottle and harshly cracked it against his head, knocking him out.

“Whoa,” Louis whispered. An instant later he joined his love in fighting off the remaining enemies.

Brody dodged an attack then another before grabbing the man by the collar. With a harsh jab her knee collided with his crotch. The auburn pirate refused to give him a moment to recover and with a heavy slam she crushed his face into a table, cracking it slightly.

Mitch gave an impressed whistle. Brody may have called him a badass earlier but that move right there made it clear that she had him tied in that regard. He swore his love for her grew in that moment but he couldn’t stay in the moment long because all of a sudden another attack came his way. Mitch was about to counter when the booming voice of the tavern owner made everyone stop.

“Alrighty! That's enough, you scurvy dogs!” The tavern owner stood in between the captain and Ruby right before they were about to exchange blows, blocking both of them. “I won’t have you go and ruin my tavern anymore! In fact, one of you sorry lots is gonna have to pay for all the damage that was caused!” The tavern owner looked over at the Ericson pirates then at the other crew. “We’re gonna settle this the way we always do here on this great island. Get ready, ye about to have a pirate duel!”

The captain of the crew gave a hearty laugh. “I’m fine with that! In fact, I challenge your captain!” He pointed at Mitch who gave a scowl his way. “A fight to the death, winner gets to skip out on paying for this fine mess and gets the lass of their choosing from the opposite side,”

“You have a deal!” Louis’ voice rang out across the tavern as he stood on a table, his hands on his hips. “Except it won’t be a fight to the death, not on my end,” His eyes were level with the captain’s and his jaw firm. He was obviously still upset about how they had been treating Nurgul and on a battle high from the tavern fight. “When I win, you’re gonna regret ever treating Nurgul badly!”

“Who?” The captain scrunched his nose. “That don’t matter, what I’m confused about is that you out of all your crew is the captain. Are you pulling me leg?” He glanced back at the Ericson crew and saw that they were all upset by his accusation against Louis. He was their captain after all. The captain paused for a moment, his eyes glancing over at the wall of wanted posters. “Well, sink me! You lot are the Ericson pirates!” He began to laugh, holding his sides. “I suppose you have a bit more fire in ya than me and the other crews thought you did. Still, you’re a bunch of lily-livered wannabes who claim to be pirates when you all haven’t even done half the things a pirate should do,”

“We do the right thing. We follow our own pirate law,” Louis stared down at the man.

“Is that so? Well then I hope that my blade doesn’t rust from cowardly blood when I gut ya tomorrow,” The captain laughed then harshly pulled Nurgul forward, urging her to lead the way. “Till tomorrow, ‘captain’!” The captain gave a mocking, obscene gesture then left.

“Louis!” Clementine hurried forward and looked up at her love. “What are you doing?”

“The right thing,” Louis met his love’s gaze and Clementine could see he wouldn’t budge on this decision. There was only one thing to be done.

Clementine and the rest of the crew worked to make sure Louis was the best equipped and well-trained he could be for tomorrow’s duel. The sunlight bled through the sky at a rapid pace and before they knew it night was upon them that soon shed away when the sun rose once more. Hopefully all their work had been enough.

As they made their way to the dueling pit they heard the overwhelming cheers of pirates heartily drinking grog as they waited to see the bloodshed of the fight. The crew was soon guided over to an area for viewing. As they passed they noticed Nurgul standing at the sidelines of the fighting pit. Louis was left alone at the entrance of the arena with Clementine. His eyes focused on the tiny crabs that scattered about the soiled sands of the pit, mindless to all the noise around them.

“Louis, be careful,” Clementine held her love’s hand and tried to get him to look at her.

Louis remained silent for a moment. “Everyone is continuing on me so I gotta be. Can’t be the normal screw up that I am. One wrong step...” His voice faltered out as he continued to look off into the distance.

“Louis, you’re not a screw up. You’re a great captain and fighter. You’ll win,”

Those words made Louis glance over his love’s way. “I don’t know about that,” He took a deep breath and turned to face Clementine. “Alright, I need you to slap me. One good slap to make sure I can focus,” He tried to stand strong in front of her, his eyes pressed shut but every few seconds he’d peek out at Clementine, his head unconsciously flinching backwards. Clementine stood there, knowing that she wouldn’t hit him but she wasn’t sure what the right choice was. After a moment she decided to go with her heart. Getting up on her tiptoes and wrapping her hand behind his head she captured his lips in a soft kiss. Louis seemed surprised by this before his shoulders relaxed and he melted into the kiss, if only for a moment.

The dreadlocked captain pulled back from the kiss, his eyes filled with shock. “I... can’t tell if I feel more focused or less,” His lips pulled into a smile that Clementine immediately mirrored. The pair stood there, becoming lost in each other’s eyes when suddenly the announcer called for the two pirates to get in the pit. Louis was about to step forward when he felt Clementine’s hand grab his.

“I believe in you. So does AJ and so do the rest of the crew. There’s a reason you’re our captain and it's for choices like this,” Clementine gave a smile, hoping that it would find its way to Louis.

Louis returned the smile then kissed the top of her hand softly. “I gotta prove you and the others right then,” He slowly slipped his hand free of Clementine’s and stepped forward into the sunny arena where his ears were pierced with the cries and cheering of the pirate crowd.

Louis tried to show his charisma and held up his blade with a big smile. He rotated in a circle, catching the eyes of all the different sections of the crowd until he saw his crew. He could tell they were nervous but he also noticed the trust and belief in their eyes. He would win today.

After a moment or two the duel was set to begin. The signal was given and the captain of the other crew unsheathed his double shell guard cutlass. Not waiting a moment he slashed it down towards Louis’ face. Louis immediately lifted up his rapier, blocking the attack and causing the sound of metal colliding to ring throughout the arena.

“Let’s see how long you’re gonna last before you end up as shark bait,” The captain kicked up dirt, aiming it directly at Louis’ face. The young pirate coughed sharply and tried to regain his sight when suddenly he felt something slashing against his back. The cold feeling of metal slid across his back once more and Louis dodged a third strike before proceeding to block a fourth. His hand held up his blade as the captain smirked down at him. “Not long at all I’d wager,”

Louis felt his nerves rising but he knew that if he let them consume him he’d wind up dead. Studying the man’s legs he noticed that he was heavily favoring his right one. So Louis decided to take a page from his love’s book and with a mighty kick he forced his opponent off balance. Using the moment of uncertainty Louis hooked his blade with his opponent’s and with a well-timed twist forced the man to disarm. His cutlass flew through the air and landed in the sand beside Louis.

“Don’t count me out just yet,” Louis pointed the sword at his throat but the captain soon slapped it away and elbowed Louis deep in his gut. The young pirate gasped loudly, a thread of saliva falling from his lips and onto the dirt. He tumbled to the ground, dirt flying up the air and clouding the pit.

The captain laughed loudly and leaned over to pick up his blade when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his left foot. Looking down, he saw Louis’ rapier embedded there.

“You’re not keeping that girl and you’re not gonna get any of my crew!” Louis grabbed the sides of the man’s head and headbutted it sharply. The action stunned the man but it also made Louis’ head ring. He couldn’t let that stop him from focusing on this fight though. With a wild cry Louis took his blade out of the man’s foot and used the hilt of his sword to pummel the man’s chest. Each hit brought him one step closer to winning and each made his opponent weaker. His hilt soon found its way to the bridge of the captain’s nose and with a mighty slam Louis shattered the man’s nose. The captain’s head swayed with the movement, his eyes stinging with tears due to the hit as blood slipped down his face.

“You little brat! I’ll be sure to send you to Davy Jones’ Locker myself!” he yelled, dodging an attack and sweeping up his sword. He immediately sliced his cutlass through the air, his blade colliding with Louis’ rapier. The two pressed their entire body weight into their blades, their feet digging into the dirt and sliding with the force. Neither of them were willing to lose an inch in this attack.

The captain once again tried to kick dirt into Louis’ face but the younger pirate danced around the attack. The sudden movement caused the man to slip forward and Louis decided to use some of the techniques he had tried to pick up from his crew. Aiming for the spot that Violet usually did with her iron knuckle studded gloves, he dug his fist into his opponent’s chest, cracking a rib. Soon he backstepped, changing towards Marlon’s stance of being well balanced with defense and offense, but leaned into a sturdy defense like Brody held. He carefully studied the captain’s movements, wanting to spot his weaknesses and exploit them the way that Aasim always did during his fights.

It took some time, precious time in which Louis worried his energy would flag and fail him, but at last he spotted the pattern the captain fought in. Louis cautiously backstepped, taking a page from Omar’s patient fighting style. He slowly dodged and parried each strike until he saw the shift in the man’s right leg. Not wanting to miss the moment, Louis feigned an attack, forcing the man to put all of his strength into a counterattack that would miss before he kicked out the man’s right leg once more and sent the hilt of his rapier crashing against the side of his head. With a loud thud the captain collapsed onto the ground. The pirate crowd grew silent as Louis’ chest heaved until suddenly a proud voice started to cheer.

“WOOO! That’s our captain!” AJ cheered, doing his signature happy dance. His sudden outburst made the other members of the crew cheer and holler, filling the entire arena with the overwhelming volume of their voices.

Louis took a shaky breath then grinned at his crew, thrusting his arm that held the rapier into the air. The action gained more cheers as the pirate audience applauded a fight well won. Louis’ eyes were entirely focused on his crew though, noticing how happy and proud they were of him. He returned their kindness with a bright smile then looked over towards Nurgul. “You’re free,”

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

Sometimes I get really high and cry about how I don’t have anything from my childhood home. So here’s this.

WARNINGS FOR: mentions of suicide, Billy healing from the incident at Starcourt.

He’s never been fed by what is inherently sentimental. Even as a little boy, those precious creatures that lived on the highest shelf in his heart were easily destroyed or ripped away by the person he was becoming. Stuffed toys fell to pieces under the heat of his anger, the toxic potion that was brewing under the surface of his skin ate away at the rose-colored hue surrounding his childhood home to the point of absolute degradation.

Billy doesn't remember a time when he longed for the sanctity of his bedroom. For the pale yellow sunlight streaming past blood stained Thomas the Train curtains, or the box of broken toys that Neil had left alone. He doesn't remember when it happened, when the flip switched and his longing went from missing Saturday morning cartoons in his parents bed to simply missing his mother and all the things she had taken when she jumped off the roof.

It wasn't always like that. Billy remembers something else. He remembers a blanket that smelled like cinnamon toast crunch, adorned with microscopic holes he liked to such his thumb through. He remembers a set of roller blades the color of crushed mustard seeds; Neil taught him to skate. No one knows that, no one remembers, but Billy. Does, he. Remembers strong fingers laced with his own, holding tightly while Billy figured out how to maneuver the cracks in the sidewalk.

Billy is haunted by a time when his fathers hands were good for other things.

Before Hawkins. Before that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest, Billy had been giving things away. To lighten the load, he supposes, that which had become unbearable.

First it was his skateboard.

Max wanted it.

At the time he didn't think it was as simple as all that; his bitchy kid sister begging, day in and day out for access to the magic carpet that sat entombed in Billy's closet. He hadn't used it in years, ever a slave to the bright blue ocean, but it didn't matter. It was the principal of the thing, the skateboard to his kneecap.

Max took and took and took until Billy had nothing left to give. She said you don't even use it anymore and Billy said doesn't matter, you can't skate.

Neil told him it could be good for bonding.

Neil told him Max was a good kid, she deserved to have something of her own in their house on Willowbrook Avenue.

Neil told him to hand it over before I stick it up your ass, kid.

So Billy ground his teeth together and tried to push down the aching emptiness at tossing away the last thing his grandmama had given him before she passed away. It was the principal of the thing--if Ruthann were still around she'd tell him to let the kid have it. Let her have something of her own, so. He polished its bearings and left it outside her bedroom door, pretended to read until she came knocking an hour later with confusion twisting her freckled face to shit.

You're sure I can have it. She asked.

And.

Yeah. I'll teach you.

He wonders if Max remembers those afternoons in the driveway that morphed into weekends at the skatepark with Max scuffing up the wheels and Billy tapping into his thin line of patience. Wonders if she's plagued by the memory of hidden smiles and misplaced affection, because. Billy had thought it would hurt more, giving away a piece of his childhood like that, but. He had long since stopped attaching emotional worth to things that broke. Things that crumbled.

He wonders if Max remembers a time when his hands were good for other things.

Billy made a habit of throwing away the things that weighed him down.

The skateboard, the blanket that smelled like cereal milk, he thought all of it made him weak. The more shit he had that mattered to him the more he had to lose, so. Every Spring Billy would wrap his fingers around the mouth of a big black trash bag and lighten his load. Scoop armfuls of his childhood into the abyss that always, somehow, incredibly operated as a portal to Max's room.

Sometimes he wondered if she even had a personality or if everything she had, everything she was, came directly from Billy's dumpster.

One man's trash, and all that.

She wore his old shirts. Read his books, hung discarded posters of naked chick's on the insides of her closet doors for some fucking reason, and. In a weird way Billy felt like maybe he was being immortalized. Every phase of his life was shone back at him like the surface of a lake, or a shiny new penny on the dashboard of the Camaro, and he felt good. Useful, for his trash becoming someone's gold.

So Billy kept tossing things out.

Reorganizing and downsizing until his room looked like a generic movie set for a troubled teen. Every weekend Billy packed the little pieces of himself into neat trash bags, tying the lip closed and leaving them for max. Nestled at the foot of her door, like a bargain brand Christmas gift that was not at all what she had asked for. Gifts that came 52 times a year.

The bags always vanished. Billy felt heavy and light. Heavy and light. In the end he wasn't sad to see it go.

Maybe it was just a side effect of growing up in the big, empty house on the hill and fighting the incessant need to fill it with shit but Steve Harrington was a packrat. The kid never got rid of anything. Before Starcourt. Before that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest, Billy would tease him about it.

What, like you need five binders full of empty laminate pages?

Steve's tongue would poke out of the corner of his mouth while his fingertips brushed the offended plastic. I'm going to start scrapbooking.

And that was is usual way, to find an explanation, a inarguable reason for all the junk in his life, but.

Billy thought it was okay to have things around for comfort.

Wasn't really his style, but it was Steve's and Billy didn't stop the kid from collecting whatever he could get those slim fingers on. Old NATARI cartages, broken HAM radio antenna's, torn polaroid's, annual Moms of Loch Nora Bake sale t-shirts; he kept everything in case an old timey push mower could prove itself to be useful.

Before that night when the demon punched a hole in his chest, Billy would smirk. What sad sack wants a MILF's face on his chest?

Steve just shrugged his shoulders. Someone could need it.

And Billy just snorted, because.

Harrington's a weird guy.

Thoughtful and pretty and so, so fucking weird.

When they brought Billy home from the hospital he slept in a shirt with Karen Wheelers face on it, every night for a week.

Funny how it all comes back around.

He spends a lot of time in bed with the covers pulled up under his chin. Draped in Steve's ridiculous knit sweaters and thick woolen socks because everything is cold, now. As if winter has settled rough and desperate into the very marrow of his bones and even though the fabric rubs too harshly against the healing rise of his stitched skin, Billy can't shed even a single layer for fear of freezing to death.

That's what it had felt like Before Starcourt. Before the monster punched a hole through his chest, when it just had its fingers inside his skull.

Endless winter.

Steve buys every type of heated blanket on the market. Searches high and low for expensive down t-shirts that will help you feel more comfortable, but. Billy doesn't even remember what that's supposed to feel like.

Steve says comfort feels like sleeping in on Saturday mornings because you don't have anywhere to be. Home sounds like your mother fixing pancakes just before lunch time but--oh. Everyone always remembers half a second too late. Billy tries to smile, tries to accept the help Steve gives him--he wears the sweaters and keeps the socks on after his morning bath even though he's not really a sock person because Steve is so hopeful.

Bright.

Steve smiles over the mug of hot cocoa he fixes Billy every morning and hopes. If we start the day warm, who knows?

Billy doesn't have the heart to tell him.

Steve spends a lot of time in bed. Plastered to Billy's skin--chest to back because Billy needs to feel like he's protecting something, after Starcourt. After that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest.

Sometimes Billy feels like Maxine.

Stealing bits and pieces from someone's garbage can. Here he is, sleeping in Steve's bed wearing Steve's clothes taking up such a large part of Steve's life, and.

Pretty Boy just snuggles closer and lends his warmth in more ways than one.

Billy doesn't always know how to handle it when those milky brown eyes watch him roll around under the covers until his body finally feels at peace. Every night Billy closes his eyes says the same thing. "I can be out of here by next week, if you--" Afraid to look for fear that he'll see relief reflected back at him.

Every night Steve says the same thing in return. "You're my whole world now, Billy."

As if that's supposed to get the car back on track. As if Billy hasn't veered off the road and crashed into a tree every single day since--

"Maybe it would make you feel better if, you know." Steve shuffles impossibly closer, the hot line of him charring Billy's skin even through the layers of wool. "If you had something familiar."

"You're familiar."

Steve's flesh burns even hotter. Eyes shining even bright, at that. Something almost like love. "I meant something from your childhood."

Billy rolls onto his side.

Steve moves with him without even thinking about it--chest to back because Steve needs to feel useful, after Starcourt. After that night when Billy hit the floor and the light went out of his eyes. Billy's chest rises against the palm of Steve's hand, where it's pressed against him. Steve will never get tired of that motion.

"I don't have anything from my childhood."

Which. "Not even at home?"

"This is home now." Billy sounds like he doesn't want to talk about it, but.

Steve can't bring himself to care. Or maybe stop caring. "I meant at Neil's."

"Got rid of all that shit." He can hear the tremor in Steve's voice, when the boy finally finds it.

"Neil got rid of your--"

"No." Billy says simply. "I did."

He can hear the wheels turning in that beautiful head. Steve swallows, the movement palpable in the thick night air. "But. Don't you miss it?"

After a while Billy shakes his head in the darkness, curls catching on the plaid pillowcase. It takes Steve a moment to decipher what it means, how it makes him feel that Billy can so easily toss away the things that no longer serve him.

They're quiet for a while. So long that Billy's breathing goes deep and even, a clear indicator that he's fallen asleep. Steve knows it won't last long, knows the nightmares wake him up, and.

Steve always stays awake through the first three to give Billy something familiar to hold onto.

#harringrove #idk what this is lol

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