#and then sitting there having a breakdown over it

[evie-sturns]

toddler - Matt Sturniolo

summary: having 2 toddlers isn't the easiest, espically when you're currently pissed at your husband matt after an argument. one night you get pushed to the point of a breakdown when the kids won't behave and matt's there to help you.

contains: dad!matt, fluff, slightly suggestive , crying, slight mental breakdown, comforting, angst?

a/n: this was loosely based off of how daddy matt was in today's vid.

----———--------------..••°°°°••..------------————

7:38pm

matt and i had an argument last night leaving me in tears, he’s been in his bedroom this whole day leaving me to deal with our two twins which are both 3 and a half.

i attempt to cook up something that somewhat resembles a dinner for our girls but the only thing occupying my mind is the events of what happened last night.

yesterday

“why is this house always so fucking messy!” matt’s voice booms throughout the living room as he abruptly stands up

“shit, i don’t know maybe because you got me pregnant at 18 and i’m the only one who does anything for the kids our this house!” i raise my voice back at him

matt lets out a shocked laugh “sorry that some people have fucking jobs and don’t lay on their ass with the kids all day and call it tiring?”

“lay on my ass? i clean, i cook, i take the girls to daycare and i bring them home, i do everything”

“if everything includes not having a fucking job and using up my money that i earn then sure, you do a whole lot” matt says with a slight attitude.

“all you fucking do is act like you have it hard when you don’t! get a fucking grip” he yells

the whole room goes silent, i erupt into tears and walk out of the room to our spare bedroom

“and always fucking crying.” i hear him scoff, only making my state worse.

—

my thoughts are cut off by a wail coming from behind me, my head spins back to see millie with a fistful of claire’s hair, yanking.

i instantly drop the wooden spoon into the pot before speed walking towards the twins

“stop it!” i yell, grabbing millie from under her arms and staring into her eyes angrily “go find daddy, not acceptable millie.” i raise my voice, placing her down.

she folds her arms with a huff, stomping her little legs down the corridor to matt and i’s shared room.

“you’re okay claire” i coo, fixing her pigtail which sits on the very top of her head

i pick her up and place her down on the couch with one of her stuffed animals before making my way back towards the kitchen.

i turn down the heat on the stovetop slightly with an exhausted sigh

suddenly i hear small giggles coming from behind me followed by the backs of my knees being pushed

“fuck!” i yell, stumbling over and grabbing the handle to the pot, spilling boiling spaghetti onto the floor, also splashing up onto my sweater.

millie goes silent before sprinting in the other direction with claire

as of things couldn’t get any worse right now i hear matt’s voice start something

“what are you actually fucking doin-“ he cuts himself off when he sees the state i’m in

i burst into sobs, matt looks down at me with concern painted across his face

“hey- shh sh you’re okay, you’re okay.” he says frantically, walking over to me and kneeling on the floor

“matt i can’t do this the kids aren’t behaving and i can’t fucking make them something they’ll like-“ i start, saying in between shaking breaths

he carefully picks me up from under my arms before switching his grip to the back of my thighs, i bury my face into his shoulders and feel matt take in panicked breaths

he speed walks us down into our bedroom at the end of the corridor, “are you hurt sweetheart?” he says, placing me down on the bed and peeling my sweatshirt off of me

“did the hot water soak through? shit.” matt says trying to stay calm.

“no-“ i sniff, rubbing my eyes. matt yanks his sweatshirt off his body and lays it across me like a blanket.

“stay right here okay? i’m gonna sort the kids out then put them to bed, then i’ll come back to talk, try get some sleep for me gorgeous.”

matt presses a kiss to my nose before rushing out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

i have a clear view of kitchen from where i’m laying so i see matt walk into the kitchen before kneeling down

“c’mere.” he demands, sticking out his arms. millie and claire toddle over to him with a guilty expression across their face.

“tell me what’s happened.” matt says sternly, maintaining eye contact with both of them.

millie bursts into tears almost immediately as she looks at matt

matt runs his hand up and down her arm as he waits for a response

“we- we pushed mommy and she fell and spilt hot water on her and hurt her” she sniffs

“a-and.. and you’re mad at me” she continues.

“do i look mad sweetheart?” matt says softly, claire shrugs along with millie

“i’m really really sad that you weren’t behaving for mommy, and i know you know better than that right?” matt speaks

millie nods, wiping her nose with the backs of her hand

“and now i’m gonna ask you to go clean up the spill with claire and then we’re gonna go say sorry to mom okay?” he says gently, pressing two kisses to the girls forehead

they nod in unison before going into the kitchen, matt hands them the paper towels and they instantly drop down to there knees and attempt to clean the mess.

matt watches while biting his nails “why do you think you made mommy cry though?” he says, claire looks up at him with a heaped pile of paper towels in her hands

“because we were naughty.” claire sighs, matt nods while gathering the piles of drenched paper towels and throwing them away.

“what i’m ‘gonna ask you to do is sit down at the kitchen table and think about how you will say sorry to mommy tomorrow while i make you dinner okay girls?”

claire and millie run over to the dining table, more than hungry and tired now.

matt sorts through the pantry before settling on mac and cheese which i wasn’t even sure we had.

after a good 10 minutes matt brings over the two small bowls to the twins, who have been silent ever since they sat down.

“you have to eat all of this okay?” matt says while placing the bowls down. claire and millie nod

—-

8:56pm

matt finishes up the last dishes in the sink before walking over to the girls “you alright?” he asks softy before picking both of them up, one in each arm.

matt walks down the corridor, flashing me a quick smile as both the girls bury their head in his shoulders.

“they’re very tired” he mouths to me with a small laugh while walking into their shared bedroom.

i hear the door shut followed by matt walking into our bedroom. “you feeing better gorgeous?” he asks calmly as he flops down in bed beside me.

“thank you for doing that.” i sigh, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“don’t thank me? i’m their dad and i realise that after yesterday’s.. argument that you’re right and i do need to start caring more.” matt looks over at me.

“you don’t have to just say that” i whisper

“i’m not just saying that, i actually mean it.” matt responds with an unreadable expression

“the shit you said last night..” i start, my voice wobbling “i’m gonna find it hard to forget, because i know that in that moment you meant it.”

matt goes silent,

“and i know that you’re busy but i try, so hard to make you and the girls happy, meaning that i don’t have free time to work because everything i do is for you?” i keep going, several tears now rolling down my cheeks

“so you saying that you should help our more around the house and pretending like everything’s perfect between us isn’t gonna fix shit.”

i physically can’t keep speaking unless i want to start sobbing so i stop, taking in a shaky breath.

matt doesn’t say anything back, instead sitting up and grabbing me and pulling me into a deathly tight hug.

the few tears that fell dampen the shoulder of his shirt as he rubs my back.

“i don’t even know how to apologise.” matt says, his voice trembling.

“please- don’t cry.” he whispers, “i’m just really tired” i squeeze out

“i know i’ve been a shit.. person for the past year or so and trust me, you and the girls are on my mind every single minute of every day and- and there’s no excuse for what i said yesterday except for the fact i wasn’t thinking straight.”

matt rambles

“i shouldn’t have yelled, or said anything. i know, i know you have it way harder than me, and i’m not just saying that it’s true.”

“you don’t have to forgive me at all today, tomorrow or in general for this but i love you and i’m so sorry.”

matt finishes by pulling away to look at my face, which he cups in both his hands.

“thank you.” is the only thing i reply with, somewhat shocked by that 2 minute long tangent.

matt lays back down on the matress, pulling me towards him. i lay my head down on his chest with a deep breath in, instantly falling asleep

————

9:56am the next day

the morning sun burns into the side of my face as i roll over in bed,

my eyebrows knit together when i realise matt’s not next to me like normal.

i sit up in bed, wiping my eyes as i attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair.

i stumble out of bed towards the door of our bedroom, gripping the handle lazily and swinging it open.

the whole house is perfectly clean “what the fuck..” i mumble to myself as i walk into the living room where my eyes lay on my favourite sight

my 3 favourite people, matt claire and millie are sat on the sofa, matt’s in the middle and the girls are cuddled up to his side while matt holds open a picture book which he stops reading when i walk in.

“good morning pretty” matt smiles stupidly, i grow a small smile on my face.

“i think that someone has something to say to mom?” matt says, looking down at each of the girls.

they run up to me and wrap their arms around each of my legs “were really sorry” claire says, i bend down to their height and give them a smile

millie follows up with a “and i’m sorry for hurting you a- and i love you a lot!” she says with a cute smile.

“it’s okay sweetheart, i love you.” i grin, wrapping my arms around them before standing back up.

“and i’m gonna make it up to you tonight” matt says quietly while walking over to me

“matthew bernard! you horny mother fucker” i whisper.

————

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut

[on-leatheredwings]

Meeting the Family

based off this! but can be read alone.

Yandere! Fem! Reader / Yandere! Bruce Wayne

> romantic with bruce, platonic with the boys. the boys could be read as pre-yandere if you wish. > tw/cw: reader is a yandere, yandere-typical thought patterns, implied drugging, mention of self-harm, implied drugging > request: thoughts on co-conspirator!reader meeting the boys? > a/n: Hmmmm, i feel it’d be a meeting of interrogation where they see you’re clearly unstable !! > word count: 1.4k

You walk towards the threshold of a Wayne Manor sitting room. You have this hallway nearly memorized. You’ve viewed it through your 24/7 surveillance cameras and glanced upon it during your visits, but never has this hallway seemed so daunting until now. Luckily, your lover is nearby to reassure you. Bruce slips his hand into yours, and you inwardly swoon. You share a warm glance with him.

“They’ll adore you,” he says. You let a smile peek through your anxious expression. “I know I do.” At such sweet words, you feel your cheeks heat. Ugh, this man, you think affectionately.

Your Sunday best is the armor you don to meet Bruce’s children. It seems like you won’t even be able to meet them all – only the ones in town. “They just want to interrogate me,” you whine, letting yourself be pulled towards the impeccably decorated room.

“They just want to get to know you,” Bruce returns, humming. You can’t retort because already, you are in full view of his brood. The three of them look up from their phones and books. You swallow, under the scrutiny of two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of green.

“... Hi,” you say, waving a stupid hand. One smiles in return, thank goodness.

“I’ll just let you all get acquainted,” Bruce says, retreating. You swerve to him, blinking dumbly. That was not the agreement. The agreement was that Bruce moderate the discussion– and he’s gone.

He leaves the sitting room, and leaves you in the lion’s den to fend for yourself. And boy, do the lions pounce. 

The eldest, Dick – he’s positively godsent. He’s the first to shake your hand, immediately going into a friendly babble about how you’re all Bruce ever talks about and how he’s been excited to meet you. And thank God for that, because it manages to ease the tension you still have in your shoulders. He introduces himself and his brothers, melts the ice by teasing them as he does it. He offers you a seat across from them, offers you tea and cookies. He shares an anecdote of Bruce’s less polished moments to make you laugh. 

You soon realize he was a sleeper agent. He was merely buttering you up, lowering your defenses with well-placed platitudes and good-natured jokes.

It’s Tim who begins the true assault.

“So,” Tim begins over a cup of tea, looking upon you owlishly. “Isolation for 10 long years… How was that?” You blink, startled, before smiling weakly. At least no one was treating you like glass. Sometimes, that made you feel even more like a freak.

You try to give him a Sparknotes recollection, but it doesn’t satisfy him. At his badgering, you do relent more details. You are slipping your innermost thoughts without much of a fight, to your surprise. Dick’s empathetic gaze and Tim’s enraptured attention have you spilling dark thoughts it took you months to even tell Bruce… 

It was long. It was traumatic. Mind-altering. You have breakdown after breakdown. Self-harm after self-harm. There is a part of you you can never get back… So, 'how was it?' Why, just awful, thanks for asking!

Dick comforts you with “you’re so strong,” as Tim nods. He seems happy with his findings. It seems like you have piqued his academic interest – you can basically see the gears churning behind his mind, the factoids he’s storing for later. For what, you don’t know, but you’re glad to help. Throat dry, you down the rest of that blasted tea, but the boys aren’t quite finished.

Damian, however, is brutal in his questioning, sparing any of the pleasantries or dithering his brothers employed. He asks rapid fire about your past outside of your years in isolation. What was your childhood like? Your relationship with your parents? Did you ever graduate high school? College? What was your major? Do you like animals? His father houses two dogs, a cat, and a cow – you do know that don’t you? 

“What are your intentions with my father?” At that, you flinch.

“Nothing… nefarious, to be sure,” you say, sweat beginning to bead on your temple. It’s true! Aside from all the dastardly actions you wanted to inflict upon Bruce in the bedroom, nothing nefarious!

“And his other suitors? They don’t bother you?” 

At that, your smile wilts. Not from any offense… you simply don’t enjoy the reminder that others do seek Bruce’s affection. 

“They… don’t worry me,” you say succinctly. Dick doesn’t think you realize how your smile has grown sharp. Damian doesn’t let on whether he approves or disapproves of the answer. And Tim simply watches.

“And my father’s controlling and possessive tendencies? You’re fine with that? What would you do if you caught him in a lie? Or if a woman he was involved with confronted you?”

You gape like a fish. Man, what a character this one was. Damian blinks slow and catlike, before he sniffs. “I’m asking for one of the siblings who couldn’t be here today.”

“Um…” you return, discombobulated. You shoot off your answers as rapid-fire as he posed them. “I haven’t noticed any tendencies. And I can handle myself! If he lied… I’d hear him out. He probably had a good reason, of course.”

“What if it was infidelity?” 

You glare at them. “I’d get rid of her.” Why do they keep bringing up other women? 

At the boys’ silence, you realize your mistake. You wave your hands and bluster, “Not like– not like get rid of her– I would just tell her to… Leave. And I’d be… angry… at Bruce.” God, you don’t feel like you’re doing too well in this interview. You hiccup, filling your cup some more. What is in this tea? Man, it’s delicious.

“... Interesting.” 

“What if Bruce left you out of his own volition?” Tim points out, drawing your attention.

Your head snaps to him and you stare… That possibility had never even crossed your mind.

“He wouldn’t,” you say, confused. At raised eyebrows, you say, “I mean. I-I don’t think he would.” You have faith in Bruce. It’s been five months now, and your relationship has gone swimmingly. You had your insecurities… but Bruce had kissed all your worries away by now. Your fingers dig into the cushion of the couch. 

He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. He had already reassured you, and been so kind, and wonderful, and shown you what love was like– he couldn’t just leave you now–

“But what if he did?” and this time, the question comes from Dick, who, if you recall, hadn’t asked a single question yet. He looks serious, unlike his casual air from before.

You keep the desperation out your voice by keeping it chillingly level. “Then I’d convince him otherwise.” Good answer, good answer, you applaud yourself. All the boys nod, looking upon you with varying degrees of interest, curiosity, and understanding.

“Then… I suppose we have just one more question,” Tim says, plucking the kettle of tea out your hands. You pout.

“Thoughts on having children?”

At the question, your brows shoot into your hairline.

“... Are there not enough of you already?” you blurt.

To your relief, they all relax.

-

After that strange encounter, Bruce shows himself and sees you out. The walk outside is quiet. Comfortably quiet on your end. You hope you did good… no, you reassure yourself. Fuck it, you did great.

“So… how were they?” 

You glance at his face, and are surprised to see thinly veiled concern behind his smile. “Did any of them say anything… strange? And… did you like them?” You laugh, before floating up to kiss Bruce between the brows. Flight powers came in handy for stuff like that.

“They were wonderful,” you say cheekily. “Something they clearly get from their father.”

-

bonus!

Bruce re-enters the foyer. He shoots off a text, lamenting. If you hadn’t had him bug his own home, he could’ve spoken to the boys freely. He could’ve had Jason hide nearby, instead of having to listen in on Damian’s phone.

Bruce: Did that satisfy your curiosities?

Several ellipses in bubbles pop up, before his phone rattles with their responses.

Damian: Frankly, she comes off as airheaded and naive, but at least she seems to have some semblance of spine.

Jason: She’s crazy. Didn’t we tell you to stop sticking your dick in crazy

Dick: Well, I think that makes you guys a perfect match!

Tim: bruce i’m sorry, you cannot fix her. however, i would like to study her. and possibly, make her worse

Bruce sighs, albeit smiling. By all accounts, you seem have gotten their general approval.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x yandere reader #yandere reader #mine #platonic batfam for once lol crazyyy #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine

[rainylana]

“I’m always going to take care of you.” Alternate Version! part two!

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: part two of my series, will also be the final part in the installation.

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, depression and breakdowns, explicit details of rape and violence, mostly told in eddie’s pov, language. if i missed anything please let me know! i hope you enjoyed the reboot of this series<3 let me know your thoughts on this one, it was tough to write!

“Please, Y/n, you can’t shut me out. You can’t.” Eddie was sat by your hospital bed beside you, hands holding the metal railing that was put up at the sides.

“I told you, Eddie,” Your voice broke, eye swollen, purple and red with a gleam of tears. “I don’t need to talk about it.”

“Don’t need to talk about it?” He repeated shockingly, more so to himself.

You’d woke up an three hours ago, having been out for almost thirteen hours after you’d passed out. You were a completely different person. You’d shut down, cold, unwilling to talk about what happened. You only wanted one thing, and that was to go home. Eddie didn’t know how to handle it. He knew he shouldn’t push you. You obviously needed time, but Eddie wasn’t a patient man, and he needed you to be okay.

“Please,” Your voice broke, looking over to him with a bruised eye, the skin around your nose red and aggravated. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Eddie, but I am fine. Just forget about it and get me out of here.”

The police had been there as soon as you woke up to question you. Did you recognize your attacker? Had you ever seen him before? What was he wearing? How tall? Did he tell you his name? What was his hair color? So many questions and so little answers. You hardly remembered it, yet you couldn’t seem to forget it.

Eddie had sent Wayne and all of his friends home. You weren’t up for visitors. Frankly, you were scaring Eddie. You seemed pissed, angry at the world and broken, not able to be fixed. You had a look in your eye that you’d never had before.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” He said tiredly. He didn’t sleep a wink in that uncomfortable chair.

Eddie left you alone then, leaving the room with a heavy sigh. He found your doctor at the front desk giving check out papers to another patient. “Dr. Grant?” Eddie called, gaining the female doctors attention. “How much longer till Y/n can leave?”

“We want to keep her just a few more hours for observation.” She checked her clipboard. “Just until we get the results of her head ct.”

Eddie nodded, not wanting to tell you the news of having to stay longer. He looked like a shell of a man, broken, eyes red rimmed and lips cracked from chewing on them. “I don’t know what to, doctor.” He looked to the floor. “She won’t talk to me.”

Dr. Grant frowned at Eddie, pulling him to the side so they could sit in the waiting room. She put her clipboard down on her lap. “Mr. Munson it will take some time before y/n will feel comfortable with talking. I can assure you that it’s perfectly normal in rape victims to shut down.”

He visibly cringed at her choice of words. Rape victim. You were a rape victim.

“I’m going to give you some paper work that may help you help her.” She smiled, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “I know it seems impossible, Mr. Munson, but eventually she will be okay again. It’ll just take time.”

Dr. Grant left the pamphlets on his lap as she left for her rounds. He looked down to find brightly colored pieces of paper, the words rape and assault plastered all over them. He got up quickly when his eyes teared up, disappearing into the bathroom and shoving the papers in his pocket.

Take time, it certainly did.

•

You acted as if nothing happened. You went on about your daily chores, cooked meals and cleaned the trailer. You were pretending, acting. Eddie couldn’t pretend nor could he forget. He was trying to be patient, that’s what the pamphlets told him. Be patient and understanding. But Eddie saw right through you. You weren’t that good of an actress.

He could see how broken you were, the look in your eyes was shattered and gone. The aches in your body you pretended weren’t there, how uncomfortable you were sleeping in the same bed with him. He offered to sleep on the couch and you’d nearly bitten his head off, saying you were fine and he was overreacting. All you were was angry when he talked to you. When anyone talked to you.

When it got late, when everything had been done for the day, you’d sit outside on the porch and stare up at the sky, smoking your pack of cigarettes that you’d swiped from Hopper a few weeks prior. You’d stay out there past midnight. Eddie hadn’t even seen you cry. You didn’t cry or get sad, only angry. That’s all you ever were.

You spent a lot of time in the shower, hours at a time during the night when you thought he was asleep. He never was. Neither of you slept peacefully anymore. You were barely eating. You tried, tried to keep up appearances to prove that you were okay, but you were slipping. It was getting harder and harder.

It had only been three days, but Eddie was starting to loose it. He couldn’t handle watching you fade away so quickly.

It was late when he finally had dozed off, but your absence in the bed woke him. His hand reached out to find you, only feeling the blanket and pillow. His eyes squinted in the dark, his heart beginning to race. Where were you?

He found you in the living room, one single lamp on that made your face an orange color, staring off into space with a blanket wrapped around you. Eddie frowned, turning on the kitchen light that made you jump slightly.

He tried to ignore the way you stiffened when he sat down, sitting a few feet away from you. He stared at you the entire time, trying to read your face. You looked broken. Utterly broken and so, so sad.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie began, sighing deeply. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I’m trying to…give you time, but it’s killing me watching you-” He stopped when he felt a lump build in his throat, not wanting to cry in front of you.

“I’m fine.” You dismissed him every time, not wanting to entertain the idea of breaking down in front of him. The mere fact he knew what happened, what everyone knew, made you feel weak and disgusting. Like a huge spotlight was on you. It was the worst feeling you’d ever felt, like you were standing naked on a stage, vulnerable and exposed.

Eddie bit his cheek and looked away. “No, you’re not, Y/n.” He swallowed roughly, looking back to you. “And that’s okay. I know you feel like it’s not, but it is. You don’t have to shut me out. Please, baby, you can’t shut me out.”

You squinted your eyes shut and looked to the wall. “Eddie,” You begged. “I can’t.”

You can’t.

That was the first time you had said that. That you couldn’t talk about it. Your voice had broke, just only a little. It was the first time he’d seen real emotion in three days. He didn’t want to push you, but you had to let it out. There was no way you could keep on living like this. It wasn’t healthy.

Eddie looked toward the window, it was pitch black outside, not even the flood lights were on. They had quit working a few weeks ago and no one had come to fix it yet. He swallowed back anxiety and nausea. “I know you’re scared-”

“No, you don’t.” You snapped, still refusing to look at him. “You don’t know how I feel. Nobody knows how I feel. They’re just trying to be nice.”

“Then tell me, baby.” He begged, placing his hand on your knee.

You shoved it off, storming up and escaping to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it just as quick. The shower was turned on within seconds, then he heard you crying, trying to muffle it with the sound of your sweater, or maybe it was a towel.

You hated him. You had to. There couldn’t have been no other explanation for your anger and hatred. You blamed him for what happened, for not coming to your rescue sooner, you just wouldn’t admit out loud. He felt like you’d been killed that night, like your very spirit had been snuffed away like a lit match. He missed you. It was his fault. It was because of him. He was the reason your spirit was gone.

He put his head in his hands and cried.

•

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Wayne. She won’t talk to me. She’ll barely even look at me. She won’t let me touch her. She won’t…she won’t tell me what happened. She blames me. I know she does.” Eddie pushed out air between his lips, struggling to breath. He’d showed up to Wayne’s mid panic attack one morning when you refused to get out of bed. The both of you almost broke out in a fight, except you wouldn’t fight. You didn’t have the energy. It had been another three days gone by.

He was sitting on his uncle’s old sofa, going back and forth from putting his head between his knees or fisting his hair with his hands. Wayne was making himself a fresh cup of coffee, watching as his nephew suffer through his anxiety.

“No, buddy, she doesn’t. She’s just hurtin’.” He poured the coffee into his mug.

“Then why won’t she let me in?” He bounced his knee. “Why won’t she let me help her? She blames me.”

“Try to imagine yourself in her shoes, Ed.” Wayne came over, cradling his mug as he pulled out the kitchen chair, sitting himself in front of his nephew.

“I can’t.” Eddie shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s feeling.”

“That’s my point.” His uncle continued, raising his mug. “You don’t have the slightest idea what she’s going through, you’ve got to give her more time. It’s not even been a week yet, buddy. I know you’re anxious to help her. She’s lucky to have you.”

She’s lucky to have you.

He bit his nail nervously, thinking back to leaving you at the trailer, covered in blankets and refusing to get out of bed. He shouldn’t have left you, but he was on the verge of another breakdown and needed his uncle.

“Why is she so angry?” He gulped, his throat dry from his quick breathing. “I’ve never seen her this angry before.”

“Because she doesn’t know how to process what she went through.” Wayne placed his coffee on the table after another sip. “When we’re hurtin’, sometimes it turns to anger. I think you can relate to that, huh?”

He could. With the kind of life he led, his childhood, everything after vecna and the trauma he endured, he knew exactly what his father figure was talking about. When you hurt, when you have nothing else to feel, you get pissed off.

•

When Eddie got back home, he knew you were still in bed. The lights were off, the tv was off. The poor fish you shared hadn’t been fed yet. He quietly walked into your shared bedroom, the sunlight peering through the curtains, illuminating your face. The blankets were tangled around you, your arms hugging the pillow. You stared at the wall into nothingness, s blank look on your face that spoke volumes of emotion. You were heartbroken.

Eddie watched you for awhile, making his way to sit at the foot of the bed. He sat by your feet, putting his hand on your blanket covered ankles, squeezing them reassuringly. “How about something to eat, huh?”

It took you several seconds to respond. “I’m not hungry.”

He would much rather you be angry than like this. A zombie, unwillingly to move or breath, not able to function or communicate with him.

“What about some tea?” He tried, eyes soft and round, his hand softly rubbing circles on your leg.

You cringed under his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want tea, Eddie.”

Then, Eddie’s throat filled with a ball of sick, but he quickly forced it back down. You said his name with such malice, such hatred and venom that told him everything he needed to know. You did blame him.

His eyes filled with tears and he stared at the wall. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

He’d said it time and time again, but his words came out in a desperation that he hadn’t yet conveyed to you.

“I don’t blame you for hating me.” He sniffled, his curls shaking with the weight of his shoulders. “I’m to blame and-”

“Eddie, please,” You sobbed, making him practically flinch in surprise. You were crying. “Stop it.”

He let out a whimper, falling to his knees so he could kneel at your head. “Honey,” He cried. “My baby girl, I can’t stand the thought of you hating me. Please, angel, just let me take care of you. Talk to me. Let me in.” He was begging you with a cracked, broken voice that made you sob right along with him.

His hand went to touch your cheek, but you flinched and sat up, bringing the blankets up to your chest. “It’s not you, Eddie!” You blubbered, snot running down your nose. “I don’t hate you! You can’t think that! P-please, don’t think that!”

He crawled up on the bed to sit in front of you, hot tears still rolling down his face. “Then why are you shutting me out? We’re supposed to be a team! We promised each other! You promised me and I promised you! Please, baby, I have to know what happened! It’s killing me!”

“I can’t!” You exclaimed, your tousled up hair falling at the sides. “Oh, God, Eddie, I can’t! I can’t talk about it! I can’t do anything! I just want to lay here and die!” You coiled over and wailed broken-heartedly, a song of cries that boiled out of your throat and paralyzed you. You curled up into a ball and practically screamed into the blankets. Eddie was shaking, bringing up a hand to bit as hard as he could, not knowing if you would allow him to touch you,

He placed one hand on you gently, and when you didn’t pull away, he quickly gathered you in his arms. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart. Just let it out. Let it out, let it out.”

You let him hold you, and in desperation of the moment, you wrapped your arm around his leg to bring the heat of his body flush to yours. You bawled your heart out into him, emptying all your fears and sorrow.

“I- I can’t stop- thinking a-bout him!” You said hysterically, your tears making his jean covered knee damp. “It hurt so-so bad, Eddie!” It sounded like your cries caused you physical pain, your words coming out choppy and broken.

Your bruised ribs ached from your heavy sobs, your hands going to hold your stomach. “God, oh, God, Eddie, I can’t do it! I can’t! I can’t!”

“You don’t have to.” He said firmly, trying to control his own sobs so you could understand him. “You give all that pain to me, okay? You give it all to me. I can handle it. You let me take care of you. I’m always going to take care of you, sweetheart.”

Your bruised nose had started to bleed onto his jeans, going unnoticed from the both of you. You were hyperventilating, shaking and practically convulsing in his arms.

“Come on, baby,” He held you to his chest, your body still curled up against him. “It’s okay, I’m here. Just let it out. Tell me what you need to.”

It hurt. It hurt so bad. He hurt me so bad and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so scared. I’m scared he’s going to find me. I don’t want you to look at me differently. I feel so weak. Please still love me. Please stay with me. Don’t tell anyone I’m afraid.

You cried for so many things, but he listened to every last word you had to offer him. You told him what happened. A man had followed you into the bedroom, forced you down and split your legs apart, punching you in the nose and kneeing you in the ribs, shoving himself inside you like a sword, piercing it’s way into you roughly. You had cried and cried, screamed and begged, till you didn’t, finally going into shock and laying there, taking it.

Eddie had tried his hardest not to breakdown at your confession, but he could only do so much. He held you into the dark of night, promising what he had said. He was always going to take care of you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #female reader #i’m always going to take care of you

[wexhappyxfew]

12 on Subtle Love for Judy and Rosie? Simply cannot get enough of them ❤️

JAMIE HEYYYY!!!! thank you so much first of all for dropping this in the askbox :) very very appreciated on my end + it's for judy and rosie, my two sweetbeans who deserve nothing but the best, so truly, thank you!! i was inspired by the intimacy of sharing in the quiet moments and in this case, this piece hit me a bit harder than others. we come to judy in a time where she's wrangling some of the loses that the group experiences, over and over. and she's trying to find some anchor to hang onto in this ferocious sea that continually knocks her down, over and over......and rosie happens to be that anchor :)

looking out for me

(a/n): for the judy x rosie girlies :') in the midst of finals season, but needed a break from biophysics for the brain and landed on a judy x rosie piece that i'd been playing around with for a few weeks and finally found a place to put it in! prompt is: "You can call (talk to me) me. Day or night. I'm there for you." (changed call to 'talk to me'). please enjoy these two and the intimacy of sharing! <3

The briefing room was probably the place she felt it most.

The loss. The amount of lives that had stepped through the doors and heard that final mission, not knowing it would their final mission in life.

With the lights not on and the sun barely risen outside, it was almost peaceful. When they weren't being told that recipe for a suicide mission.

It was weird knowing Annie Bradshaw wouldn't be walking through those doors today for the mission; along with Margie or Bessie or Kennedy.

Knowing that their lives were scattered somewhere in continental Europe if they hadn't all died.

If.

Judy had gotten her tears out - it was funny, being so accustomed to death day in and day out, she got used to the names being told around the base. She just didn't expect it to be their names.

Reaching up to brush at a stray tear, Judy schooled her features a bit better than she had previously that morning when she'd woken up and Viv had watched her breakdown all alone and build herself slowly back up. None of them really wanted to have to talk about it - the four of them that were missing - especially Francis. Francis seemed to feel it deep within her enough that she was numb. Numb to it all. Judy hurt for her. One day she'd find herself better able to understand these emotions, these feelings, all those unwanted thoughts in her brain. For now, she could only sit and let them grow. She heard the door open from somewhere behind her and slowly turned her head over her shoulder.

Rosie Rosenthal stepped into the briefing room, his gaze lingering around the place, only before settling on her there in the chair. Judy watched him from across the room, the pound of her heart causing all the blood to rush to her head and her eyes, and it took all her might to stay right there in the chair instead of launching across the room to beg him to hold her and put her back together.

To get rid of this ache, this ever-present constant in her life.

Every person going down in a flying coffin, MIA or dead.

But even he couldn't do that if she couldn't even do it for herself. No one could do, especially if you couldn't do it yourself.

Judy hadn't taken the time to realize he had crossed the room, in his slow approach and settled there on the seat beside her. She watched him for a quiet moment and licked her lips.

"Not hungry?" he asked her quietly, leaning forward against his knees and looking up at her with those big, worried eyes, "I noticed you weren't at breakfast." Judy watched him, before a stubborn tear rolled down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, her hands slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her ears, loud enough for any other sense to be drowned out. She stared at him and swallowed the cry in her throat and shook her head.

"Not really." Judy managed out quickly, before looking towards the window, trying to control her breathing rate and her pounding heart, "Just needed a place to be alone….for a bit." Her vision became slightly blurred by her tears and she felt her body aching to cry, to let it all out, to get rid of this feeling and become comfortably numb. But she couldn't do that. She had to keep it in.

She could tell Rosie was taking it in, her poor mumbles of words, mulling them over and thinking all at once. His face looked more strained than usual and he seemed so still, like some sort of statue. She blinked away her tears - over and over.

"You going to be okay for the mission today?" she heard Rosie ask quietly, and there was something in his voice that made her want to cry just a little bit more.

Ever since Rosie had asked for her to be the turret ball gunner for Rosie's Riveters, she had been trying her hardest, putting out with all she could, to do her best in his eyes. There was a certain level of gaining his trust inside the plane that she had already gained outside the plane. A trust that she could operate a gun and strike down what enemy planes she could.

And he knew she was hard on herself, everyone had known that.

And with Silver Bullets being out of commission and their previous crew splintered in various groups, into Operations and HQ and all over Europe, she was still trying to convince herself she could get back to that headspace she'd been in under Annie and Captain Faulkner.

Now with her third commanding pilot, the fear she'd lose him was overwhelming.

"I will." Judy said quietly, looking over at him, his own eyes meeting her red-rimmed ones and she nodded, "I promise you." Rosie watched her; she usually never saw this much of his concerned side of him. He was usually pretty good at hiding it, at least in front of the other men and especially in front of her.

But sometimes, she'd hop out of that ball turret, sweat marks streaked across her face, burn marks on her cheeks, her hands beat-red and shaking and she'd see something flash through Rosie Rosenthal's gaze that made her want to take his worry away in any way she possibly could.

That maybe she could do something that wouldn't worry him, that would reassure him and take that fear away. Because even if he didn't show it, his eyes and that far-off look were ever-present and she saw it, even when staring at each other from across the interrogation table.

Because he'd stare at her as she spoke - citing what she saw, how many chutes, the works - and she'd watch his jaw clench and those eyes turn dark, and he'd speak solemnly almost, and an undisturbed, coldly, calm demeanor and would be by her side when they were dismissed. And he'd ask her how she was and if she needed a sit down. And he'd always have that look. One she replayed over and over in her head.

Like it was the last time he'd be seeing her get out of that ball turret.

"Well," Rosie said quietly, reaching into his inner coat pocket, revealing a neatly folded, lumpy brown bag, "then I can't have my ball gunner going up on an empty stomach so. Eat." He held out the brown paper bag and she stared at him, unsure of the offering, before taking it into her grasp and adjusting herself to sit up a bit. She looked hesitantly at the bag before looking up at him.

Watching with those persistent eyes, she slowly opened up the bag and inside was two pieces of bread, along with a sausage rolled in napkins and an orange. Her stomach, admittedly, growled at the sight and smell of food and she heard Rosie chuckle from beside her.

"Go on," Rosie said softly, his voice thrumming against her ears in a pleasant way that she'd never complain about, "here." He pulled his canteen forward and handed it to her. "Water, too." Judy watched him, in slight amazement and then met his gaze.

"Thanks, Rosie," she said quietly, "you didn't have to-"

"Don't worry about it," he said casually, and then settled into the chair and looked to her, "food's more important than anything and…I don't mind sitting here with you to make sure you enjoy it." She smiled a bit wider at his words, before digging into the bag and pulling the orange from the contents of the bag and settling it in her palm. Staring at the orange, she began to feel her eyes fill with tears and Rosie seemed to notice, leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," Judy managed out, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, a rather ugly sniffle leaving her nose as she nodded to the orange, "it's just….do you want half? I shared these with Bes all the time, so." Rosie held her gaze for a moment, before squeezing her shoulder warmly and nodding.

"Of course." he said, and Judy cracked out a smile towards him and sniffled again, "Big fan of oranges, ya know?" Judy let out a small laugh and she watched him grin, before she slowly began to peel the fruit, with Rosie's attentive gaze on her own downcast eyes and her slightly shaky fingertips.

"Oranges' your favorite?" Rosie asked her quietly, and Judy looked up, nodding.

“Back home, my brothers and sisters and I would always eat these. Ma made sure if we had anything, we had oranges," Judy said, a small chuckle leaving her lips, "Bes knew I loved them, so we'd usually share. All the time. And since…since she's not here, I wanted to share. With you." Rosie grinned at her, his eyes soft and lingering as he nodded. She smiled again before peeling away the rest of the bright orange outer surface. She looked up at him.

"Plus, it's rare when we get oranges in anyway, so….it's pretty special," she said, pulling the orange in half and then handing the first half to him, "for you." Rosie took the orange and smiled at her with a breathy, "Thanks." Taking a bite of the orange, that familiar and nostalgic taste flooded her mouth and she couldn't help but breathe a little easier just at that.

"Thank you, Rosie," Judy said, swallowing the orange and nodding to the bag, "it means a lot." Rosie gave her a worried smile, where it didn't quite reach his eyes and showed that maybe she had worried him more than she would ever know, but he nodded and looked to her fully.

"I know after the news, it hit you pretty hard." Rosie said, and she felt her throat tighten just at his words, the thought of what had happened, "And Judy….you know, you know you can talk to me. Day or night." Judy nodded and let a shaky smile cross her features.

"I'm there for you," he said softer this time, "you won't lose me that easy." That got a grin on Judy's face as she took another bite of the orange and met his gaze again, his baby blues watching her like it was the greatest sight to behold on base - when there were surely other things like the blue skies, or the setting sun, or the sight of one of those fortresses landing against the tarmac.

They didn't say much for the next few minutes, as they each enjoyed their halves of the orange, but Judy couldn't help but let her eyes linger on him for a moment after each bit of orange in her mouth. Watching how gently he had taken the orange from her, and how tender he still appeared now. How calm she felt sitting there next to him.

"You okay, Judy?" Blinking, she noticed that the orange was empty from her hands, and she was staring off into nothing important, and Rosie's hand was present on her shoulder. Judy met his gaze and then nodded, before covering her hand with her own.

"Yes," she said quickly, nodding again, "just, thank you Rosie. For everything. For looking out for me." Rosie smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, the tops of his cheeks dusting pink.

And he didn't have to say much - he just said, "Next time you get your hands on some oranges, come and find me."

Maybe oranges will be our new 'I got your back and you got mine'.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #judy rybinski #rosie rosenthal #judy x rosie #they #shared #oranges #(sobs in a corner) #ya know those quotes about sharing oranges? yeah that was basically my commentary on those in a moment of grieving and i just i- #mentally and emotionally charged by this so #dont mind me losing it in the tags AGAIN #yeah them #them them them #someone give them all the best and brightest things for their future plz #(cries) #HE NOTICES THINGS SHE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE ABOUT HERSELF !!!!!!! (he notices i scream)

[marleyswho]

no woman, no cry (chapter four)

warnings. reoccurring dream. smoking. brief mention of mental breakdown and self-harm. fluff. flashback to the night in accra. tension. foreplay (18+)

tags. @shurislover @s0lam33y @desswright29 @pocketsizedpanther @naftalyspaces @oceean @tishlvr @bbbbbbrilliantly @shurisnovia @kisskourt @blkgworlamplified @prettymrswright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @jordisblogg

notes. the last two weeks have been very hectic and I apologize for not posting last weekend but none of this was done, i won’t lie. i’m still between wether to write smut in it’s full here or keep it at foreplay and allude to it later on, and with little time on my hands right now i had to make a quick decision for this chapter. but i hope you all enjoy regardless ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A delicate plume of smoke from her spliff traces patterns in the air, dissipating into nothingness, each slow exhale helps the tension seep from her body as her hand sways ever so slightly, conducting the smoke in a silent, languid ballet. She lays on her bed, eyes closed, adrift in the rhythm of the gentle strain of reggae that plays from her record player, each pulse a beat through her veins.

Her phone’s ring is a soft intrusion, a ripple across the calming surface of her solitude. With a heavy sigh, Genesis’ eyes open, her hand reaching down beside her to silence the insistent melody, answering and raising it to her ear.

“Hello?” She answers, her voice infused ever so slightly with the residual calm from her private reverie.

“Gens, hey…” Letitia’s voice comes in, a familiar cadence of warmth and concern. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit, wanted to make sure things are okay?”

Genesis sits up, pushing herself to the edge of the bed as she leans forward, the spliff now forgotten in her fingertips.

“Yeah, I’m just lying low. I’m not really used to…” She trails off, not sure how to truly finish the sentence, although it is true, she’s never really had anyone to check in with, at least not in this way, and the trace of sheepishness in her tone showcases that.

“I know.” Letitia’s tone softens.

The intimacy in Letitia’s concern is tangible, and Genesis feels the warmth that spreads through her chest at the care in her voice.

“Bad habit, I’ll… I’ll do better.” she tries to assure her, rubbing the back of her neck, an action that matches her tone, mind racing, contemplating on offering the invitation.

“Um, so, we’re having a little session tonight… nothing big, just the boys and…” She trails off once more, a hint of hesitance threading through.

“And…?”

“I was wondering if you’d wanna come over? A little make up for disappearing on you… and I’d like to have you here.” She finally finishes, her tone hopeful and shy, a rare glimpse of external vulnerability.

“I’d love to, Gens. Just let me know when I need to show my beautiful face.” A soft chuckle escapes Letitia’s lips, one filled with affection and Genesis knows she’s smiling.

Genesis can’t help but roll her eyes at Letitia’s antics, but relief blooms through her whole being.

“Irie… I uh, I’ll text the details.”

They end the call with gentle goodbyes and Genesis quickly sends over the information before she forgets, setting her phone down, sitting there for a moment longer, basking in the afterglow of the conversation.

She then takes one last drag from the spliff before putting it out in her holder that sits on her nightstand, pushing herself up off the bed and walking to her closet to get changed into slightly nicer clothes, intent on helping the boys prepare for the night.

Once she’s changed over from her normalcy of sweats and a muscle tee, she shuffles down the hallway, her footsteps a soft movement against the hardwood. She’s just returned from Portugal, her body still not having shaken off the journey to Italy from Jamaica before then, leaving a persistent cloak of exhaustion.

The warm chatter of the boys fill the air as she approaches the kitchen, Julian absorbed in reordering the living space, rearranging items with a curator’s touch.

“Everything good with you?” He questions without looking up, voice warm.

Genesis nods in reply to him, stepping into the kitchen, finding Ziggy and Ragga there, a spread of rolling papers and herbs laid out before them. The rich scent’s comforting, familiar, and they both look up as they hear her enter, Ziggy’s eyes crinkling with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Morning, Gen.” Ragga greets, his tone gentle.

“Morning,” She murmurs, attempting to brush off the weariness with a faint smile, walking behind them to where the knifes are kept, grasping the handle of one to help.

But Ziggy’s quick, his hand gentle but firm as he takes the knife from her grasp.

“Nah, Gen,” He says, his eyes holding a mixture of affection and caution. “You sit and relax a bit, yeah?”

Her hand lingers in the air for a moment, a silent testament to her interrupted intent.

“I’m fine, really.” She insists softly, though the heaviness in her body betrays her words.

Ragga exchanges a look with Ziggy, and Julian, paused in his task, now lingers by the entryway of the kitchen. They all remember the breakdown from last year, and then the months that followed after Genesis just left, trying to find her footing again. She remembers it all too well too.

“Genesis,” Ziggy begins again, his voice ever steady, “we know yuh good, but we don’t wan’ push it, y’know?”

Genesis’ protests waver, faltering under their collective concern and she lets out a breath, a silent concession, her arms raising in a mock surrender.

“Fine, I’ll go and… chill.” She trails off, the last word tinged with reluctant acceptance. She turns, leaving the kitchen to the sound of Julian’s words behind her as Ziggy and Ragga continue with their jobs.

“Yuh not think that’s too much?”

She knows that’s in reference to her.

Settling onto the couch, Genesis allows her eyes to close, a flicker of annoyance threading through her at both her friend’s overprotective natures and her own inability to push past the weariness. She’s poised at the edge of sleep quickly, body still exhausted, teetering into the welcome arms of rest, when the now all-too-familiar hum begins to weave through her consciousness yet again.

It’s the usual timbre, textured with the light rasp that seems to resonate with an ancient familiarity. Each vibration of the sound’s like a thread, stitching her to a tapestry of memory and feeling she can’t quite place. It wraps around her, a comforting enigma that’s both haunting and soothing, a presence that feels like home, yet something she still can’t put a name to, still not able to trace its origin in her waking thoughts.

The humming tune swells, a crescendo that envelops her with warmth, lulling her deeper towards sleep, causing her to hover between awareness and dreams, where the voice feels so close, like she can reach out and touch the source with ease.

But the moment’s interpreted by the sound of the front door opening and closing in a swift motion, a harsh return to reality as the hum suddenly fades, leaving her in just the darkness, now punctuated by Junior’s distinctive voice.

“Wha’ gwaan? Mi just forward.” He announces, his ascent a melodic dance of Paitos filling the room as his steps sound gently on the floorboards.

But Genesis doesn’t open her eyes, instead just lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave off.

“Let me sleep, Juni, yeah?” Her voice is a mumble, already heavy with the sleep that clings to her.

Junior chuckles, a rich sound that bounces through the room.

“Yeah, yeah, lazy girl.”

It’s a tease, his usual nature, and usually Genesis would roll her eyes. But she remains unmoving and hears how his footsteps recede as her hand falls back across her abdomen. With the elusive hum now gone, having retreated to the back of her mind, all she hears is the sounds of Junior moving about, towards the kitchen, and the sound of the other boys welcoming him.

But still, she drifts, her tiredness anchoring her into the deep depths of sleep, and soon her breathing evens out, her body finally surrendering fully to the quiet pull of it, giving in to the full expanse of the darkness that consumes her

Behind her eyes, the hum returns slowly, a rich melody that seems to emanate from her very conscious, fading in. Deep and resonant, holding the weight of years within each undulating note, a tune shaped from years of experience and time. It’s not just a sound within her mind, she realizes, but a voice without words, telling a tale. Calling out to her.

The melody twists through the darkness, wrapping around Genesis’ conscious. It’s both comforting and forbidding, like a hauntingly beautiful prelude of sorts to something she can’t predict.

The tranquil forest soon comes into her sight, suddenly burst into an inferno, a blaze of bright orange that licks the sky with its fiery tongues. She’s now a child, no older than seven or eight years-old, running from the flames, her heart’s pounding in her chest as the roar of the fire spreads in monstrous pursuit.

The sound of hooves thunders from behind, suddenly, a relentless beat that promises no escape. She dares not to look back, she knows better, even as the rider’s voice calls out to her, an echo that seems to rise from the very earth beneath her feet.

But ahead of her, the scene mirrors the forest behind her, causing her to skid to a stop, her young eyes wide with fear, and the rider circles around to face her, his own face a blur, identity cloaked by her memory, yet his presence remains commanding. He reaches down towards her, a golden ring in his palm, and she takes it hesitantly, fingers closing around the ring as she takes it in. It adorns the Lion of Judah, a symbol that seems to pierce the veil with significance.

And suddenly, reality shifts like sand underfoot and she’s transported back to a time before, a time of innocence. Now younger, she sits in the back of a car, seeing the backside of her father as he sings the chorus to “Three Little Birds”, which plays on the radio, lazily. His hand reaches back after a quick moment, tickling her and soft laughter bubbles up from her younger self, a sound of pure joy.

But her laughter begins to muffle, the sound distorting, as if she’s sunken under water, every movement around her seemingly slowed. Her gaze is drawn to her father’s right hand, to the ring that bares an uncanny resemblance to the one she just saw.

In the waking world, Genesis’ face is a canvas of distress, eyebrows knitted together, a sheen of tears threatening to break through the facade of sleep.

Jernir, one of Ziggy’s friends, drawn by the sound of Genesis’ troubled slumber, approaches with furrowed brows, nudging her shoulder a bit too eagerly, along with a loud voice, and Genesis is catapulted back to reality.

“Yo, Gen!”

Her eyes snap open, body jolting up in an instant and tears start to betray her as she attempts to steady her breathing.

“All the waterworks, you pussy. Ain’t need none of that.” Jernir chuckles, finding humor in the way of her waking.

Genesis, gathering her composure, wipes her tears away quickly, pushing herself up from the couch. She keeps her head down as she pushes past Jernir, their shoulders brushing in a silent exchange, but she doesn’t care, even after he calls after her, mindlessly walking to her room.

It’s a sanctuary, the walls holding all the quiet she needs, stepping inside, closing the door in a rush as she walks in deeper, leaning over her desk as she hangs her head, trying to tether herself to the moment. Her breathing’s a whisper in the stillness, a rhythm she focuses on to dispel the lingering grip on her chest from her dream.

With each deep breath, despite the small shake that plagues it, the tension slowly begins to fade away, leaving her more present and grounded, her now natural state. And when she opens her eyes, they fall upon her ring— her father’s ring, the ring, the tangible piece of her reoccurring dream materialized in the real sphere.

Her movements are tentative as she reaches out, her fingers closing around the cool metal, and she feels the heavy weight of history in between her fingers. The Lion of Judah stares back at her, a legacy, a piece of her heritage. She rubs her thumb over the engraving, feeling the lines that had been traced by her father’s own fingers years ago.

With reverence, she slides the ring onto her right ring finger. It’s a little loose, but fits enough to stay put, as though it’s been waiting for her to reclaim it. The metal’s cool against her skin, a silent affirmation of her past, never truly lost or forgotten.

A sudden knock at her door pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns finding Letitia standing in her doorway, a gentle gaze looking onto her.

“Hey,” She murmurs, her voice tinged with concern.

“Hi…” Genesis manages to get out, her voice steadier than she felt, straightening her demeanor. “When did you…”

“Julian let me in, said I could put my bag in here.” She replies, walking in and placing her bag down by the door of Genesis’ bed.

And in the quiet of the room, Letitia reaches out, her arms encircling Genesis in an embrace that feels like an escape from the outside world. Genesis melts into it, her head finding Letitia’s collarbone, the earlier disorientation begins to dissolve, the vivid images images of her dream blurring in the moment, the warmth from Letitia’s body seeps into her, a soothing balm to the cold unease that clutches at her chest.

“You okay?” Letitia’s voice is a soft whisper, barely more than the rustle of fabric as Genesis pulls away.

Genesis nods, her demeanor now carrying the resolve she was able to muster, turning towards her closet, the door left pushed open, always, and she reaches for the black leather jacket, shrugging it on, her favorite add on, always.

“Ready to get high.” She adds, a hint of defiance laced with the desire to escape the lingering shadows of her dream.

Letitia watches her, eyes tracing the lines of the jacket as it settles on Genesis’ frame, the leather amplifying the contours of her outfit and the two golden chains on her neck. There’s a small flash of recognition crosses Letitia’s face— that’s her jacket, the one she draped over Genesis one night out in New York City back in 2018, a tangible piece of their history, even if Genesis doesn’t exactly remember.

Genesis catches Letitia’s lingering gaze and holds it, her own eyes questioning the intensity within.

“What?” She questions softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Letitia just simply shakes her head, her expression one of mixed amusement and something more changed, a subtle acknowledgement of the attraction that the jacket seems to accentuate, walking forward and gently pulling on the edges, fixing it on her frame.

Her gaze moves up to meet Genesis’ eyes, unwavering now, and Letitia brings her hand up, brushing against Genesis’ cheek with a tenderness that belies the strength of her touch.

Genesis feels how her breath hitches, caught in the gravity of the moment, eyes locked with each others, filled with a complex mix of feelings— the lingering touch of the past, the comfort of the present, the uncharted potential of the future. All of it.

Letitia leans in slowly, her lips grazing against Genesis’ before they connect, a gentle inquiry and a firm declaration all at once. The leather jacket creaks slightly as Genesis moves her arms to encircle Letitia, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a careful intensity.

And as they part, just as slow, after passing moments, their foreheads rest against one another’s, the world outside Genesis’ room seeming to pause in deference to their connection. There’s a sense of completion, a circuit closing, leaving them both grounded and yet somehow more alive.

And with that, silently, hand in hand, they leave, Letitia guiding as they re-enter the world outside.

The living room’s transformed into a vibrant den of sound and scent, alive with the rhythmic pulse of reggae music that fills every corner. The bass thumps a heartbeat, syncing with the collective mood of the small gathering, while the higher pitches of the melody weave through the air, binding the group in a musical embrace.

Smoke curls lazily upwards, tinted by soft lighting that casts a warm glow over the room, giving everything a hazy, dreamlike, quality. The air’s rich with the earthy scent of ganja, a tangible marker of the night’s laid-back intent. Friends lounge across various couches and cushions, or stand among the area, the atmosphere one of relaxed camaraderie, punctuated by spurts of laughter.

Letitia watches as Genesis, with practiced ease, grabs a spliff and lights it, the flame from the lighter flickering briefly, illuminating her focused expression as she brings it closer to her lips, the spliff already positioned between, now glowing slightly. Putting her lighter away, she breaths in a deep, measured, breath, her eyes closing in satisfaction as she savors the rush of the herb, a small sigh leaving her lips as she opens her eyes, gaze settling on Letitia, extending the spliff towards her with the smallest smirk turning her lips upward.

She hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing her features, the memory of being overwhelmingly high is still vivid in her mind, a ghost of a sensation that still makes her wary.

“Remember Accra?”

Genesis had leaned closer to her, her voice low, almost teasing as her warm breath tickled Letitia’s ear. And it comes flooding back to Letitia’s mind all too easily.

The pulsating beat of the club, bodies moving in sync with the music and each other, the air thick with anticipation and the sharp scent of spirits mixed with the warmth of Accra— a night of sensory overload.

Letitia remembers the euphoria of the music reverberating through her body, the laughter of her friends blending with the rhythm of the dance floor below. Everything felt amplified, the colors more vivid, the touch of skin in any way or amount more electric. Genesis was there, her energy infectious, her smile a beacon in the dimly lit club.

Settled in the VIP section, they were in their own world, a bubble within the chaos of the club. Genesis had been wandering around at the time.

The high from earlier events had Letitia feeling weightless, her inhibitions dissolving into the night. At some point, she doesn’t really remember when, the distance between her and Genesis closed, their bodies almost intertwining as they stood by the railing. She could feel the heat from Genesis’ usually cold skin, could see the glistening sheen of sweat against her forehead, reflecting from the sporadic flashes of the strobe lights.

They were leaning into each other, the loudness of the club forcing them to speak directly into each other’s ears to be heard. Letitia’s hand had found Genesis’ hand on top of her shoulder as Genesis stood behind her, her own placed on top of hers, a steadying touch that lingered. Letitia had turned her head, their faces only inches apart, Genesis’ breath warm on Letitia’s lips.

The desire to close that small distance had been overwhelming. They were on the edge of something undefined, a precipice that promised either ruin or the most exhilarating of flights. But just as their lips were about to meet, a friend had stumbled into their sides, laughing and oblivious, pulling them back into the group’s dynamic, the moment slipping away just like the smoke.

It was for the best, maybe. She was with Eva at the time.

But now she isn’t. She’s with Genesis, and her words were enough to coax a small nod from her, accepting the spliff, her fingers brushing against Genesis’ as it’s passed off.

Still, with a tentative gaze, Letitia brings the spliff to her lips, drawing in a shallow breath of smoke. She coughs a little after doing so, not having smoked since Ghana, not one to make a habit of it with how her youth was, and she chuckles at herself lightly, Genesis’ own blending in.

“Easy,” Genesis teases quietly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Not a race, yeah?”

Letitia can only nod once more, more at ease now, the initial hesitation washing away thanks to Genesis’ comforting presence and a playful nudge. With that, she takes another drag, more natural now, the smoke settling more smoothly this time.

They blend into the conversations that flows around them, the room a cocoon of sound from the music that continues to play— a mix of the Marley family and newer reggae fusion— to the intermittent bursts of laughter and the soft, continual murmur of voices, Julian, Ragga, Ziggy, and Junior all telling everyone stories of their and Genesis’ youths.

Having found a place on the couch, Genesis watches Letitia from beside her, noting the relaxation that gradually eases the lines of her face, the light from the lamps casting shadows that play over her features, highlighting the subtle transformation from hesitant to tranquil as she folds into Genesis’ group with a comfortable ease, as if she’s always just been there, smiling bright and laughing loudly, in turn causing Genesis to fall into it too.

Letitia notices it quickly, the confidence that radiates off of her like this.

Genesis, with her compelling aura magnified in a casual, yet sharp, attire of a white button-down and a black leather jacket, two gold chains on her neck and her father’s ring on her right hand.

Letitia, beside her, outfit complementary yet distinct in its simplicity, has a gleam in her eyes as Genesis extends the spliff to her, their fingers brushing, a spark inching its way through their skin at the feeling as the room around them is alive. A tapestry of accents and laughter as the boys all fill the space with vibrant stories of their youth or recent events, and small musings and teasings fired back and forth to others in the room, involving light nudges or the ruffle of dreadlocks.

Genesis and Letitia lean back against the couch, leaning into the comfort of each other, the group’s energy, and the overall warmth of the room, Letitia’s arm hiding a natural place around Genesis’ shoulders as laughter and talk swirls around them.

It’s intimate and real, their actions, and as the phones emerge, capturing the essence of the night, Letitia reaches for her sunglasses that are hanging on the collar of her crewneck, a silent dance having been done before. The movement sends Genesis back to the vibrant night in Accra a couple years back, the rhythm of the night being alive with it all, the shadow of the New Year’s coming forward, how Letitia had placed her glasses on as her shield to the world’s watching eyes, her fans searching for any and every glimpse of her.

“What?” Letitia whispers, a small smirk playing on her lips as the sunglasses click into place, shielding the world from the redness of her eyes and her euphoric gaze.

Genesis’ chuckle is soft, unable to control it now, a low harmony to the reggae bass in the background.

“Just… thinking.”

The haze of smoke and the buzz from the high wrap around them like a cloak, Letitia’s presence an intoxicating force as they chuckle together. Yet as the night continues, with a boldness borrowed from the evening’s events and spirit, Letitia’s teasings become more tangible, her light touches light but full of intent.

Eventually, her hand finds its way to Genesis’ thigh, her thumb delicately rubbing against Genesis’ jeans. The subtle touch is electrifying, carrying the unvoiced desires with it, simmering beneath a collected exterior. Across the room, laughter and chatter from the boys and the others fill the air, but for the two of them, their world has narrowed down to the space between them.

Slowly, Letitia’s touches grow bolder, her fingertips drawing movements that gradually shift closer. There’s an unspoken plea in her movements that Genesis notices, a yearning. As her hand gets too close, Genesis finally places hers over Letitia’s, her heart beating hard in her chest, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment and Letitia takes advantage, her head turning towards Genesis, and Genesis can see her eyes behind the glasses, her gaze intense, lingering, and Genesis knows what she wants.

The energy in the room’s a blend of mellow vibes, an electric buzz that captures everyone’s attention in their own ways as they all continued to just lounge around, no one else aware of the want being communicated between them, a desire to retreat to a place less crowded, less watched.

With a subtle nod, Genesis rises from her place, her movements casual, betraying nothing of the current that’s leading her to the sanctuary of her room. Letitia waits a few moments, her gaze following Genesis intently as she disappears up the stairs before excusing herself without a word.

Genesis’ friends’ conversations just continued, uninterrupted, and Letitia feels how her heart races as she walks with measured steps to follow in Genesis’ direction. Soon, she reaches the door, finding it slightly ajar, a silent invitation, and she pushes it open, stepping inside, eyes immediately finding Genesis leaning back against her desk, an expectant look in her eyes.

The door clicks shut behind Letitia quietly, sealing them away from the rest of the world, the thumping bass from down in the living room now a muffled heartbeat, the rhythm of the night a distant echo to the feeling of urgency that fills the space between them.

Without a word, Genesis is the one to close the gap, arms wrapping around the back of Letitia’s neck, causing her breath to hitch as she looks into Genesis’ eyes. Green like emeralds, the most beautiful color she knows, and she finds a reflection of her own longing within her. But it’s Letitia who connects their lips, both a release and deepening of the tension that had brought them here.

Her actions are fuled by a want, forcing the leather jacket off Genesis’ shoulders, letting just fall to the floor before she lets the feeling consume her entirely, taking ahold of Genesis and moving her around to the door, pressing against her.

Letitia’s an inch taller than her, eyes almost level as their gazes, her hands trailing down from the hem of her shirt to her hips. Past her sunglasses, her brown eyes, hooded with the lust and high, stay on her as she lowers herself, getting onto her knees in front of her. Genesis tips her head back against the door, feeling how her shirt rides up to just below her bra-line. 

The movement causes Genesis’ gaze to fall down, and their eyes meet immediately before she leans in, kissing the soft skin of Genesis’ now bare stomach, hands now on her waist, gripping tightly to keep her in place. Her eyes open, meeting Genesis’ once more as her lips continue to graze across her skin.

“Fuck…” Genesis murmurs under her breath, her senses feeling heightened in the moment as her head falls back again, eyes closing in utter bliss, and all she hears is her cheeky chuckle, feeling her fingertips squeeze her sides more.

And then she feels a soft nip, just above the waistband of her jeans and a small, whimper of a gasp leaves her lips, bucking forward from the sudden feeling.

“Fuck- Tish…”

She only chuckles again, a low murmur falling from her lips.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not.” Genesis manages, her fingertips moving up, gently gripping at her cornrows, and she doesn’t need to see her to know that her smug smirk is plastered on her face.

“Yeah… I’m not.” 

Her teeth graze the hemline of her jeans again, her fingers unbuttoning them with ease before swiftly pulling them down, Genesis stepping out of them, using the support of her head, before Letitia suddenly stands, bringing her hands under her arms.

She lifts Genesis with ease, Genesis’ legs instinctively wrapping around her waist and Letitia’s hands find her ass as their lips meet once more, and Letitia smirks into the kiss, her feet on autopilot as she maneuvers her way to Genesis’ bed, up against wall to their right and she lays her down gently, hands on the middle of her back before standing before the edge, between her legs and pulling off her own shirt in a swift motion, leaving her in a gray sports bra.

Genesis’ eyes trail Letitia’s body as she leans her head up slightly, taking in the definition in her muscles that weren’t there before, always hiding under baggy clothes now, and she can tell all her days in the gym for her upcoming film is paying off.

She leans back over her, body hovering, and her lips find her neck, her opposite forearm placed  over Genesis’ head, the other moving down to Genesis’ hips as Genesis wraps her legs around her, a shaky breath leaving her lips at the feeling of Letitia gently grazing against the skin on her neck, her hands finding the buttons on Genesis’ shirt and proceeding to undo them before Genesis helps her by shrugging it off and Letitia lowers her head, kissing the skin beneath her bare breasts, having worn no bra underneath.

Genesis’ fingers move to the back of her head, her fingertips gently running between the lines of cornrows, a quiet moan escaping her lips from all the feelings she’s feeling. The way Letitia’s hands feel on her skin, the way her lips feel, the way she moves with such tenderness, yet a clear need, and a want of control made known. And Letitia can’t help but smile at the way Genesis reacts to her touch, feeling her body tense and squirm slightly as her mouth continues to work across her skin, feeling her own tightness in her stomach at the mere sight of Genesis like this.

Her teeth nipped at your skin, getting closer and closer to Genesis’ nipples but always avoiding them, and Genesis’ hands wondered back up to her hair before tugging lightly on her, causing Letitia to buck into her.

It’s Genesis’ turn to smirk now, her fingers continuing to pull Letitia to her body, yet the smug feeling doesn’t last very long as Letitia moves both of Genesis’ hands above her before Genesis can even process it, leaving her very vulnerable to what’s to come, and Letitia leans back, ever so slightly, breath hot as it brushes against her lips.

She crosses Genesis wrists above her head before moving her lips back down to her navel, and Genesis lets out a yelp as Letitia flips her over, pulling her hips towards her own pelvis, allowing her to bend over and whisper in Genesis’ ear.

“What do you think you’re doing, mamas?”

#letitia wright #letitia wright fanfic #letitia fanfic #shai’s oc #no woman no cry fic

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

obsessed with the prospect of Howdy Figuring It Out via the neighbors enjoying non-food items

#i have a vivid image in my mind #of him seeing this #then going through his entire shop studying every product #and realizing. Oh Shit. Barely Any Of It Is Real. Im Selling Props. #(or something akin to props since i doubt hed jump to that conclusion first) #also the image of him pouring Woodchips and Sawdust outta a cereal box into a bowl #and then sitting there having a breakdown over it #is Insanely funny #hes just cradling the bowl a la blobfish meme.... #scribble salad #welcome home #and then afterwards he's like 'fuck it!!! might as well sell soap as mash! rat poison shakes! who cares!! nothing is real!!!' #thats my brain's version of events until canon proves otherwise <3

[fisheito]

collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS

#I AM SO SORRY I DREW YAKUMO AGAIN ADFSJEIADKS LOOK OK so xenole gives me the tiny crying yakumo. #says DO WHATEVER YOU WANT and THUS i get to thinking #my immediate thought was #i'm going to make oli breast boobily while comforting him #bc i was determined to draw xenole's fave this time. i swore it to myself. i WILL stop being so self indulgent #but the chibi on chibi comforting scene didn't sit right with me. it was too straightforward. not something i would draw normally #it was hhhh as u say.... not on brand.? it did not inspire me. idea benched.... #so days pass and i'm still pondering ideas on what to do to the sad spaghetti. #configurations of clan members danced in my head. some defending yaku. some comforting. some bullying #the ideas usually involved at least oli or kuya bc once again. xenole bias #then while i'm in the shower i got frustrated with my lack of ideas and thought #i'll jujst eat.him. just. chew on him. i'm tired of him #AND THE IMAGE OF KUYA EATING YAKUMO FOR BREAKFAST POPPED INTO MY MIND #originally it was going to be kuya eating yakuflakes and oli giving him serious side eye but then the brain went #WHAT IF IT'S YAKUMO WATCHING KUYA EAT YAKUMO. THAT IS FUNNY. IT MUMST HAPPEEN #BUT I REFUSED at first. i was angry at myself. this is not a competition to see how you can STILL sHOVE YAKUMO into a drawing. #plus the composition would shrink xenole's chibi down! i would take over so much space by comparison! THE DISRESPECT! TO THE COLLAB PROCESS #but once i get fixated on smth...well. i ended up doing the idea and just praying xenole wouldnt eviscerate me for it #i'm sorry my liege. my grip on the reins was weak. the goofy clown horses went stampeding #so idk now it's the two of em having a peaceful breakfast in kuya's cabin but only kuya is at peace and yakumo's this close to a breakdown #i feel like there should be something in the space between them. a speech bubble or something . something mean is being said #kuya #yakumo #yakuya

[ghost-proofbaby]

just a lil christmas word vomit about twenty four hours, a month late. don’t mind me.

and definitely don’t think about how 24 hours!reader and eddie definitely get into a fight over wrapping presents during the holidays.

eddie definitely found a way to sneakily leave it to reader entirely, not expecting her to procrastinate until christmas eve, and she’s on the floor of his apartment (it’s basically their apartment at this point), frantically wrapping everything when her finger slips and suddenly she’s yelling for eddie who’s somewhere in the other room, fresh out of the shower.

it would easily turn into a screaming match between them (i mean, when doesn’t it with those two?) until finally, they both go quiet and just stare at each other, no longer blabbering about “blame” and “time management” and “where the fuck did you put steve’s gift?”

and unlike it might have been once upon a time, it doesn’t end with broken glasses or angry, hurtful words they can’t take back.

reader breaks first, a couple laughs falling from her lips as she catches her breath and finally admits, “i got a paper cut.”

and eddie, everyone’s favorite confused and endearing idiot, would just blankly ask, “excuse me?”

“i got a paper cut. that’s why i got so damn mad at you. i really don’t care about wrapping all the gifts, i know you’re absolutely shit at it.”

and then he’s laughing too, because, honestly? he thought he’d been a lot sneakier about his grand scheme, but he should know by now he’s lost the capability to lie to her after all they’ve been through.

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #it’s definitely their first holiday season together #eddie doesn’t want her to see how bad he is at wrapping or ruin her fancy wrapping paper #she’s just sitting in the middle of his living room having a mental breakdown over a paper cut #afterwards he decides to sit with her and learn how to wrap tho #it’s all very sweet #yeah he kisses the paper cut better also because i said so <3

[ascendingtostardust]

Okay but look

#I’ve been having a breakdown over this for the last 48 hours #it’s been sitting deep in my camera roll idk where it came from #but there’s a lot happening #jake kiszka #gvf

[lovesickeros]

Hiii just popping out to say thank you for feeding my sagau reader x furina brainroot by small interactions in "Even the Gods bleed." (Sorry if I wrote it incorrectly, I didn't get proper sleep.)

They way reader tugged at Furina's cheek— hell yeah your Grace I understand you.

i am always down to feed other furina enjoyers. at some point i need to give furi her own solo fic with reader but i know im gonna make it like triple the length of everything else..favoritism at its finest!! and proud of it. furina gets priority in everything.

#asks #anon #stares at my pending package. i bought a $55 furina plush i am Dedicated #if no one else got me i know i do. self indulgent furina/reader is my new specialty #i think abt pre/post archon quest furina all the time like #pre aq shes still very bubbly and dramatic but internally her anxiety is 10x WORSE bc now she has to compete #with ACTUAL archons on earning your favor and shes probably had 16 breakdowns in the span of 3 days over it #please give her a hug and reassure her she is like a cat w seperation anxiety sitting at the door waiting for u to come home #post aq shes a lot more mellowed out but also. once again. worse!!!! #because now she cant even say shes the hydro archon and have an excuse to be allowed to see you whenever she wants #shes just. a human now. so she kinda resigns herself to just never getting to see you again except maybe in passing #once again Please Give Her A Hug SHE DESERVES IT 💔 #sorry i ranted too much um. runs. #never ask me abt furina sagau i think abt it too much #dont know if ill be continuing the series unfortunately so no more furina on that front uhh. oops.

[squeeshh]

A quick sketch of two awkward nerds ✍️

He probably stared at her until she said hi because there’s no way he made the first move.

my Etsy / kofi 🧟‍♂️✨

#annette birkin #william birkin #resident evil #my art #Little do they know they’re both t4t #I love Annette she’s the cutest especially in dc #I want to believe they genuinely loved each other #Annette had to sit through William having a breakdown over a ten year old alexia #That’s love right there #She really stuck by him even though he’s immature as hell #And I know Willy B worshipped the ground she walked on #The removal of their wedding rings makes me sad #Let them have their moment 💔

[twpsyn-who]

Today on "Another JeanMarco Soulmate AU absolutely no one asked for" I present to you -

Soulmate AU in which you stop seeing colors when your soulmate dies, the only exception being your soulmate. Now cue to Jean who just found Marco's, his best friend's, body. And you know, there's the shock of finding out Marco's dead. The pain and confusion and guilt. But there's also the revelation, because despite everything he can still see Marco like nothing took place at all- yes, half of his face is missing and his body is straight up lifeless, but Jean can still make out the color of his eye ; see that light shade of brown perfectly, remember all the times he has found himself looking at them while listening to Marco talk. He can still make out the colors of his uniform, see the same shade of black his hair has always had, practically see. Despite being dead, Marco was the only piece of color left in his life.

And there's denial for a moment because there's no way Marco was his soulmate. But that goes away fast, getting replaced by guilt. By the fact that he hasn't been there to save him, that Marco has to die all alone without anyone being there for him.

And that was worse than the simple fact that he could no longer see colors ; because Marco was there when Jean needed him, but he failed to do the same. And not only he lost his best friend that day, but his other half too.

#Anyway this fucker doesn't tell anyone about the whole soulmate thing. Not of shame of anything but because he's mourning man and also is no #One's business. Anyway the first one to find out is Armin because he notices and ever since he makes sure to mention colors as often as he #can. Like 'These flowers are a nice shade of red' or 'Green suits you well Jean! You should wear this shirt' stuff like that #Jean does appreciates it once he gets over his ego and pain and lets other people get closer to him #Funny enough Jean is the only one in that situation loool. Well I don't know about Reiner and Historia is getting there soon enough but #everyone else??? Colors everywhere man #Is both funny and sad #'Since when..?' Jean expected that question yet he wasn't truly ready to answer it. Deep down he knew he was never going to be ready for it #'Trost' his voice stains sightly while naming the city. His own city. The place he grew up in all his life. The others say nothing else #after that confession. They were all aware many has died during Trost. It wasn't that far fetched for Jean's soulmate to be some civilian #lost during the evacuations or something. But then Connie's eyes widen ever so sightly the realization sitting in. He doesn't even register #when he says 'It was Marco right?' and regrets it immediately. Jean's painful face is all the answer they needed #Also Historia ready the letter and the world losing colors while she's doing that??? Her tearing up a little but not letting herself cry #until she gets alone???? Her going to Jean once that happens and them comforting each other????? #They starts seeing colors again once Eren dies. Poor Jean is trying his best to not have a breakdown because Connie needed him more in that #moment #Reading* wtf my tags make no sens sorry guys I'm lowkey tired #aot #jean kirstein #jeanmarco #aot jean #marco bodt #marco bott #aot marco #jean kirschstein #snk #JeanMarco Soulmate AU #soulmates au #I'm not sad you are

[eddis-not-eeddis]

.

#i don't really want to make a whole post about it because it was a very personal and very miserable time for me #but genuinely #the thing that got me wanting to move on again and LIVE after my life plans all fell apart last year #was sitting down and very seriously thinking about the kind of woman i want to be when i'm 70 #i hit that thing that a lot of people in their mid-twenties are hitting right now #where it feels like we've already wasted everything and not only are we failures now but we will always BE failures until we die #but right now i'm still in my twenties #and when i thought about what a good lifespan looked like to me #70-ish seems about right #and what do i want to have when i'm 70 #what skills will be useful and beyond that #what skills will be fun #i had gotten into a mindset of “too late too late” #learning to draw #or sing #or dance #or fix a car #or ride a motorcycle #they all felt like learning NOW would be pointless because *melodramatically* aLL my YoUtH HaS bEEn WaStEddd #but unless God has another plan i'm not going to die in my twenties #i'll likely live many more decades #my life probably isn't even half-way over yet #what do i want to be when i'm 70? #it doesn't matter that i don't know everything yet #i have more than four decades to work on it #that's more than the entirety of the life i've already lived #and yeah #i spent five years at a dead end job that finally drove me almost to a breakdown #but even that wasn't a waste #i saved enough to go to school and i learned a lot while i worked there

[ducktollers]

ngl i think talking abt social anxiety and gender dysphoria to people who do not get social anxiety or gender dysphoria is the worst experience in the world maybe

#i love my friends so dearly but. #‘ok but have u tried to join anything’ i feel like im gonna die if someone so much as sits near me so no #hearing a friend talk abt her shy new roommate and me being like #‘ok she sounds just like me. so id advice u to not give up on Offering to include her even tho she keeps saying no’ #and friend being like Oh yeah i was planning on giving up #and me remembering all my lil breakdowns over the thought that ppl will give up on me and im not worth the effort it takes to befriend me #also talking abt top surgery and chest dysphoria to firends who just have no idea how to relate #and one googling top surgery and cringing at the scars n nipple grafts and internally im like Hmm somehow thts making me feel worse actually #x #idk i need to release the thoights

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

#text post #god i need a therapist that specialises in PTSD when i can afford therapy again #in the meantime recognition of the self thru the admired other while im in this state weirdly helps #makes me feel like im gonna burst out of my skin and I'm blasting metal in my ear buds to deal with that for now #gonna sleep eventually #i think lmao #im fine honestly bc like. this is not my first breakdown by any means but just. the fucking timing could not have been better #that said i both need a hug and absolutely could not handle being touched rn so that's something #no one's gonna read this far so im gonna just let myself have one little extra messy vent in that #my stupid fucking dad triggered part of this last one and I'm so mad abt it #he doesn't give two fucks abt me now (but he'd pretend to if he saw me in person bc jason LOVES keeping up appearances) #and he would just do a little nod and smile and talk over me telling him all that's happened this last year #i moved across the fucking country with help from friends so i wouldn't wind up dead in ND #and that's the thing i keep surviving and I dont understand why when I'm so often stressed and struggling to want to live #that and more has been sitting weighing and i just. want to tell him all of this and for him to be proud of me #he'll never be proud of me the way i want bc even my mum hasn't pulled that off #where they're proud of me as I am with no caveats or hiding parts of myself #if u think this is bad pls know i deleted a maximum tags tag essay/trauma dump just before this on this post lmao #i am In The Soup rn but it's gonna be fine #gonna rewatch s2 eps and be slightly but safely triggered by bits of ed and izzys stuff and get stoned and try to. process feelings #find some ptsd therapy worksheets online like dr. blohm suggested i try #forgive me the long tags and scroll by it fast if u want/need friends ill try to contain my current mess to this post & few others