#him again…………. man that shit hurt……..

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios #dabi imagines #dabi x reader #dabi scenarios #touya imagines #touya x reader #touya scenarios #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader #touya todoroki imagines #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki scenarios #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia scenarios

[imwetforyourmom]

not her

pt5

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, am*lia mentioned, shits about to go down, truth being told, hella angst, comparing, poc!reader friendly, am*lia humbling matt

taglist

a/n: the amount of HATE am*lia has received since last chap and bound to receive more ☹️

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ~~~ NEXT CHAPTER

(not proofread)

~

“she what?”

(same day matt and amelia fucked, but for y/ns pov)

y/ns knees curled into her chest, her cold tears streaming down her face, pricking her skin with the not so gentle reminder that this all actually happened, that that all really went down, that her boyfriend left her for some fuckin ed sheeran lookin asshole.

her chest felt like it was going to collapse, she couldnt breathe. it physically pained her to breathe in, and breathe out. despite needing to, she just couldnt.

she couldnt find it in herself to pick herself up from this dirty ass floor, or to go after matt and beg him to stay, or to at least, at the most, stop crying over a trashy man.

y/n knew she didnt derserve this, she knew she was better than crying on a dirty, dusty floor over a boy—that she dated for two years, she knew that she was and deserved so much better than what state matt left her as, looking as if he had no remorse, gave no fucks about her or this relationship he flushed down the drain so easily.

a sob ripped from her throat, pulling her from her overwhelming thoughts and back to what her insides felt, her stomach curled and twisted uncomfortably, her head pounded with an ache she wouldnt wish on anyone, she was in so much physical pain, yet all she could focus on was matt and how she’d live live without her boyfriend being by her side—how different could it be? he wasnt by her side ever since he laid eyes on amelia, it’d just be like another normal day.. just with a great amount of pressure on her shoulders and an overwhelming urge to cry.

y/n smooshed her face between her knees, letting her loud sobs to be loud in the muffled encasing of her knees and thighs, without being paranoid someone would walk in and find her bawling on the floor.

her heart hurt to pump the blood it needed inside her body, it hurt to use the sole purpose of her lungs, it hurt to open and close her eyes as they swelled with tears, it hurt her head to even think, all she wanted to think about was anything but matt, but all she could think about was matt, why couldnt it be amelia? why couldnt y/n be mad at amelia? amelia did everything wrong, she ruined everything,

but she didnt, matt had the choice to ignore amelia, he had the choice to tell her to ‘fuck off’, to push her aside and keep his focus on y/n, yet he didnt. he chose amelia, of course he chose amelia, why else wouldnt he? she was pretty. she had everything y/n didnt, she had pretty green eyes compared to the ugly, dark brown eyes of y/ns, amelia had a nice smile, compared to y/ns crooked teeth and strange upward of her cheeks.

y/n wasnt her, she never would be.

~

y/n had finally found the willpower to pick herself up from the floor after hours of just sitting there, her cries eventually stopped and dried on her cheeks, leaving an icky feeling on her face.

she dragged her feet against the cement of the floors, her face pale and eyes bloodshot, sure to concern anyone who’d seen her.

she attempted to cheer herself up by listening to SZA her entire drive home—as much as she wished it worked, it didnt really help much.

her thoughts became too loud for the music to even be placed, there was no way of escaping this, she was gonna be locked in the entrapments of her own mind for until she could breathe freely again.

the second her car was parked in her driveway she was already out of her car and walking up the stairs of her porch, she took her shoes off and went upstairs, without a word to her parents and siblings, leaving them confused in the kitchen.

once out of their sight, the girl began running to her room, desperate to be alone in a comforting, safe haven where she knew nothing bad would happen to her.

she plopped down onto her bed, curling into a ball to comfort herself. her eyes too used to even begin crying again, so she just sat there in silence, with only the loud screaming in her mind, the screams of matt and fucking amelia, creating a noise. it was so loud she couldnt stand it. she just wanted to sleep, sleep this entire nightmare away.

sleep sounded like the only escape she could figure of her mind, it was the only thing she wanted right now, at least thats what she’d like to believe, she just wanted matt back, she wanted to hold him again, be able to talk without begging and to just be his girlfriend again, what was so wrong with that?

in her best attempt of falling asleep, she shut her eyes and forced herself to atleast quiet her mind some, as much as she possibly could, which wasnt much at all, but it was still something.

slowly, the forcement of her eyes closed began to become naturual and her mind quieted, her breathing and heartbeat steadied.

~

*morning after*

amelia rolled over, her eyes slowly opening to adjust to the sun beaming in through matts window. with her moving she’d woken up matt, in to which, he grunted and looked over at her.

with his still half asleep mind, he’d been expecting y/n, but once his eyes had taken her in and seen red hair, many, many prominent freckles and green eyes—to say the least, he was so shocked and confused his mouth opened before his brain could comprehend anything.

“what the fuck?”

amelia’s eyes widened and her lips parted, “what?” she asked, there was no doubt that she wasnt the tiniest bit hurt about his reaction to seeing her.

matt blinked multiple times, his own best attempt at gaining his vision back and waking up a little.

“fuck, amelia, im sorry, I just- I wasnt expecting to see you, I got scared, sorry.” he mumbled, his hand awkwardly going to the back of his neck, scratching it and avoiding eye contact.

truth was, he really just wasnt expecting to see bright orange hair as soon as he woke up, talk about a jumpscare.

“its fine, matt, dont worry.” she replied, her eyes trailed across his features, admiring how naturally pretty he was.

her hand traveled up to cup his jaw, “you’re really pretty, matt.” she whispered, tilting his face back so he could make eye contact with her.

despite the butterflies fluttering in matts stomach, his mind was still on last night, not the god awful sex, but instead what he thought about.

he just- he couldnt believe he’d really dumped y/n for amelia so easily, he left the janitors closet and before he knew it, he was balls deep in some other girl. how did he possibly fuck someone else only after a few hours of breaking up with y/n? was he a slut, manwhore or didnt care? we’ll never know.

it was unbelievable, he couldnt believe his own actions. how the hell did he do that with his own free will? he knows himself better than that, he’d never do it, he just didnt understand why he did it.

“matt?” amelia’s voice broke his thoughts, her tone was confused, but also like she was ready to say something more.

he subtly moved away from her hand and rolled off the bed, standing up and walking over to his closet.

“yeah?” he answered shortly after.

“do you think we could go on a date?- today?” she asked timidly, she sat up and looked at him, awaiting his response.

matts heart thumped from his chest, beating harder with each breath in his lungs.

“w- what?” he asked, his voice breathy in shock. theres no way amelia just asked him that.

amelia gulped, looking down at the bed in humiliation, a dark red blush covered her cheeks and her fingers fidgeted with one another.

“I- I mean- um, amelia, we’ve- I thought last night was a simple hookup?” his hand ran through his hair nervously, unsure of what to feel in this moment. he liked amelia, he really did, but he wasnt sure if he was ready to be in a relationship with her quite yet, or anything past friends—last night was an accident, or so he’d like to think.

“no! yeah! um, it can be just- a, just a hook up, yeah, thats fine.” she replied awkwardly, trying to persuade herself that she wasnt on the verge of tears.

“how about we just hangout with my brothers and madi today, yeah?” matt attempted to save the awkwardness, but he failed miserably, probably worsening the situation.

amelia swallowed, her throat dry and her mind unforgiving, fuck it was all so awkward, this was definitely the most awkward thing she’d ever expierenced before and probably ever will.

she nodded, still avoiding eye contact with matt, too ashamed to even look up at matt when she got off the bed.

her movements paused, a sudden anger bubbling in her stomach.

her head whipped up to look at matt, her face redder than normal with anger. “what the fuck matt!” she exclaimed, her tone filled with disbelief.

matt took his turn of his own confusion on his face, “what?” he asked quietly, feeling small under her gaze with her sudden outburst.

“you fuck me dumb and then say no date, just a hookup? are you that fucking desperate?” she snapped, her words holding a bite to them. they were very clearly directed to matt and y/n.

matt went to open his mouth and speak, but amelia cut him off. “you breakup with your girlfriend and then fucking come to me? what the hell matt. you’re so fucking unbelievable.” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest before continuing, “so fuckin depserate to have your dick wet, huh?”

matts shoulders dropped—aswell as his jaw. kid was in shock. he was just called desperate. him? desperate? he wasnt desperate, he could never be desperate. amelia just so happened to be wearing revealing clothes and leading him on, what was he supposed to do?

“pick ya fucking jaw up from the floor matt. open your eyes! you just fucking dumped your girlfriend, then fucked another girl. do- did you even truly care about her?” she exasperated, she wasnt even mad at the y/n thing, she was more so mad that he fucked her, but then said no to a date.

“matt, what the hell is wrong with you? why would you fuck me just to say no to a date? are you some sort of fuckboy?” matts air left his lungs at this, his face dropped and his heart dropped to his ass.

was he actually a fuckboy? he couldnt be.

“im tired of you and your shit, im leaving, I guess ill fucking meet up with your brothers and madi—not for you, but to see my friends.” she gave him one last glance before grabbing her phone and exiting the room, she was so mad matt could feel it radiating off her.

once matt felt the disgusting presence of her leave the room, he shut the door and took in a breath, finally a fresh and free breath. a breath he felt was finally like a bird being freed from its cage, he felt free, despite only spending a night with that red-headed bastard he was already sick of her.

he wasnt actually gonna let her words sink in, he didnt care what amelia had to say, he knew she was just jealous and embarassed to the point she needed to make a bigger problem than the situation actually was.

an icky feeling, like he was disgusted with his own skin escaped throughout him, he felt gross.

he couldnt rid of the feeling, even with his hands wrapped around his torso, hugging himself at his best attempt of shaking the feeling, yet it didnt work.

he stood from the door and walked to his bathroom, immediately stripping from his pants and boxers to get in the shower, the only place he’d hoped would rid the disgusting feeling, he felt strange all over, his skin felt hot and too tight on him.

his hands moved quick to start his shower water, turning the knob to his usual tempature, just slightly hotter, hoping the hot would help.

his body felt wet now, the stinging tempature of the water didnt do anything but add a painful sensation throughout him. his hands went to his hair, grabbing desperately for stabilization, his emotions were sky rocketing and he couldnt understand why.

why did he feel gross?

why did his skin fit uncomfortably?

why did he feel like this?

why couldnt he feel like his usual self? everything was so overwhelming.

his hands moved quicker than he’d like, grabbing his body soap and squeezing more than needed on his loofah, he didnt even bother spreading it in, he only hit his chest and began washing desperately, spreading it across his body in attempts at feeling better, like the soap would do something to him, make him feel better.

he rubbed his skin desperately, searching for a way to end this mess.

after his shower, matt had finally felt just cleaner, but not clean. in the shower, he’d figured out why he felt the way he did, or what he’d convinced himself what the reason was.

he’d simply told himself over and over again that it was amelia, she was all over him and the realization had finally occured that he touched her, she touched him, and he finally felt icky for it.

so, after getting dressed, he’d ripped his bed clean from the sheets she’d slep in last night, changed pillowcases and blankets.

if he didnt, he didnt want to picture how he’d feel. he wasnt sure if he even wanted to ever do this again with amelia.

before letting this all dull over his mind any more, he grabbed his phone and texted his brothers and madi’s groupchat, asking them the question that caused amelia’s snap from earlier.

“do you guys wanna hang out?”

~

sending that message already was a lot for him, so now to act okay, like he wasnt arguing with amelia, scrubbing his body till it was a light shade of pink and stinging, and where he had to strip his entire bed clean from any remneants of amelia, to now hanging out with his friends, trying to act like he wanted to be here and wasnt slowly crumbling inside was just the cherry ontop.

at any given moment he could snap at someone, nick and chris definitely took notice of that, seeing how sharp his movements were, his tone bitter and stern and his eyes giving no mercy to anyone or anything he laid eyes on.

nick walked over to matt, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder while whispering to his brother, “whats your problem matt? you’ve been having mattitude all day and its just getting annoying by now.”

matt looked up at him, shooting him a glare before shaking his hand off his shoulder with a grumble, “nothing nick, cant you ever stop complaining?”

nick scoffed and shook his head, moving away from the very clearly pissed off matt.

amelia’s been tense since she left the house, an undying amount of pressure on her shoulders since she met the triplets and madi at the park, seeing matt slouched over at a bench with an annoyed look on his face was not a good sign.

she wasnt even sure why he was mad, she should be the mad one. he led her on and is now being the bitchy one? how unfair.

again, with the amount of pressure on her shoulders—being the dramatic bitch she is, she felt the need to get it off her shoulders, convincing herself that she was too good to be holding this much on herself.

so, while talking with madi, and ranting about her time with matt that morning, speaking of how rude he was—leaving out the parts where she was the bitch.

“—and then I couldnt believe he just did that out of nowhere, especially after I went through all the work of having to lie to him about y/n cheating, then he has the audacity to reject me?” she rolls her eyes, her tone holding the very obvious pissedness she was also make very clear with her face.

madi’s eyebrows knit together, amelia did what?

she narrows her eyes as her stomach churns with disgust, madi stands up from her spot on the bench, looking down at amelia with glare.

“what?” amelia asks, still completely unaware of her mistake.

“I- I just need to pee.” madi mumbles, tearing her gaze away from amelia, she repeats what amelia said in her head, each time sending a jolt of even more disgust to her already sick stomach.

amelia nods hesitantly, too annoyed to think more about her words and why madi had just left so abruptly.

madi looked around the now darkening park, looking for matt, once her eyes land on his figure, still sat slouched at the bench, his eyes drooping but following his finger as it runs along the wooden table.

she walks up to matt, taking a seat next to him before blurting out, “amelia lied.”

matt lifts his head up, looking over at madi, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “about what?” he asks.

“y/n cheating- she didnt actually do it, matt. she lied so she could have you.” madi muttered, her voice growing quieter with shame with each word she spoke.

matts body raced with emotions, he wasnt even sure what he was feeling right now, what was he supposed to feel with this newfound information?

he just stared at madi, his face falling pale.

“she what?”

3013 words

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @genshin-addict @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @haunted-headset @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @mattsmad @sturn-bugz @jamiesturniolo @nayveetbhh @sturniluvr @strniolo @sunsetsturniolos @sleepysturnss @xbabyd0lli3x @e1ias3 @mbbsgf @leia-13 @stuniolo-simp4life @mattsdinosweater @preppy234 @sturniololvrrr @fleurdaisy11 @im-a-bored-chicken-nugget @sturnsfavvv @d-seavy @sturnwritess @simply-a-simper @multi-fandom205 @0zzzzz6-blog @coochiedestroyer1 @ratatioulle @bibassssssss @amaliarosewood @5t4rfish @y-s-a-p @joemamaaa42069 @whiteoakoak @qrzrrae @frankoceanlvrr12 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @iloveneilperry @strnilo @theprettyplanet

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris and nick #nick sturniolo x reader #nick and matt #chris and matt #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Eddie gets beaten on by Jason and his crew and Reader (who has a crush on him) sees him limping to his van and she walks over to him and helps him into the van, drives him home and then does her best to patch him up and help him, maybe ending with a sweet kiss? Request by @somethingvicked

Mentions of violence, blood. Little bits of angst sprinkled with fluff and a speechless Eddie. mdni.

Eddie x fem!reader.

🖤

Not canon compliant because Jason is alive in this for story purposes, Vecna is gone for good though. Bye bye you grinchy ass looking bitch 💁‍♀️

🖤

The first hit came before Eddie could even dodge it. Jason's fist hits his face with precision, then another blow to his stomach doubles Eddie over.

"We all know you killed Chrissy and the others, you freak, I don't give a shit what the chief of police said, you did it" Jason's face is red with fury, lost in a haze of violence. One of his friends holds Eddie's arms around his back, so he can't defend himself.

Which is when Eddie has the extremely dumb idea to use his head to smash into Carver's nose. It works in the fact that it sends him stumbling back...doesn't help the pain he's already feeling though, the force of the hit sends another wave of agony through him.

Fuck, did he actually break his nose on Carver's face?

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, he did not survive almost getting eaten alive by demobats to get killed by Jason and his friends. Jason stumbles to his feet and the grip on his shoulders tightens courtesy of David and Liam.

"Tell me what you did to her, Munson! Say it, you fucking asshole" Jason screams at him, Eddie wants to tell him everything, everything that went down during Spring Break, the Demobats, The Upside Down, Vecna. All of it.

But he can't. Nda's were signed and let's be real, Jason wouldn't believe him even if Eddie did tell the truth. He was still trying to wrap his head around it himself. "I didn't hurt her man. I didn't hurt any of them I swear it" Eddie chokes out. His ribs are aching and he's sure his bandages have come loose.

There's another thump that catches him off guard, hits the sensitive spots where the bats tore into him and he's blinking back tears of pain.

He expects another blow to knock him off his feet but when he looks up Jason's fist is cocked and he's in position to hit Eddie again but the hit doesn't come. Instead, Jason's face crumples in pain and he drops his hand, within seconds Eddie is tossed unceremoniously onto the floor and Jason and his friends are gone.

What the fuck?

He doesn't know how he does it but he manages to drag his ass up into a standing position and limps all the way to his van, tries to calm his racing heart and figures a smoke might settle his nerves.

His fingers are shaking as he tries to light up, then he almost drops it when a soft voice comes out of nowhere.

"Are you okay?"

🖤

You saw Eddie limping to his van just as you were ready to bike home. Even from where you were you could see the blood on his shirt. Jason and his friends must have caught up to him, you have no doubt about it.

Everyone knew what happened at Spring Break, at least with the murders. How Eddie was blamed then cleared, Hawkins finding the real culprit Henry Creel, a deranged serial killer.

To be honest you never believed that Eddie had anything to do with the murders in the first place, there were rumours about the state of the bodies, bones broken and twisted in ways that couldn't be natural, eyeballs sunken in and jaws broken. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Some idiots thought that Eddie was a vessel for satan and that's what Dungeons and Dragons was about, a satanic ritual. It was ridiculous. Your friend's cousin played D&D and it was just a fantasy game. Nothing satanic about it.

Without thinking you head over to Eddie. Maybe you could help? You were a whiz with first aid and he looked like he needed patched up and like he could use a friend. Quietly you approach him as he tries to light his cigarette, his hands are shaking so you reach out to steady them.

"You okay?" He peers up at you, big brown eyes wide and kinda like a deer in headlights, he really was beautiful. Normally being this close to someone you had a crush on for almost the whole school year would be mortifying but you were more worried about his injuries than your racing heart right now.

"Hi Eddie" you murmur and he's still gawking at you but accepts your help to light the cigarette, watches you curiously as he takes the first drag.

"Uh hi sweetheart" you and Eddie talked a few times, every time you did he would have a cheeky smile (all dimples) and a cute nickname for you. It did not help with your crush one bit, even though he probably called everybody some sort of nickname, it still made your heart skip a beat.

"Carver did a number on you" you wince as you take in the cuts and bruises on his arm, the blood on his face "I can drive you home, take a look at the injuries?" He nods and tosses you his keys.

You help Eddie into the van as best as you can then head inside. He gives you directions to head to his trailer and you get him there and inside with minimal fuss.

"Okay, you'll need to take your shirt off" you murmur as Eddie points you in the direction of a first aid kit. Eddie grins, "Trying to get me naked or something princess?" he teases and you do your best to hide how flustered you are.

It wasn't your fault, his eyes were so pretty and the way his voice deepened at the end of the sentence gave you butterflies. Shit. This was so not the time.

You locate the first aid kit and get out new bandages, wipes and plasters, scissors and painkillers.

When you head back into Eddie's room he's propped up on the bed. He's shirtless, tattoos on full display and from your vantage point you can see some scars where his bandages have fallen off, silvery scars that look a lot like bite marks...

Eddie looks nervous which is rare for him so you don't comment on the scars, you're curious though but don't want to push. "Do they still hurt?" you ask quietly and his smile dims just a bit.

"A little, not as bad as when it first happened though, fucking bats" he curses then his gaze widens as it meets yours. Bats?

"Bats?" you probe gently and make sure that his bandages are secure again, from the small peeks that you can see, the bite marks are healing but still red, some are healed or are silvery scars. It looks like he was mauled, the thought makes your hands shake.

He sighs, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you princess" your heart skips a beat again but you ignore that, still curious what he means.

"Yeah? Try me. Any person in this stupid town can see that it's cursed or something isn't right" Eddie bites his lips and he looks like he wants to tell you, he really does.

"I wish I could sweetheart but it's uh complicated, nda's and cover-ups and shit" Oh. Well shit. "But yeah bats, big bats, not cute ones either but ugly little shits with super sharp teeth and claws. I can let you know that much"

You're stunned but then some of the things that you've heard Dustin say to Jason and other people who don't believe that Eddie's innocent come back to you.

"He's not a murderer. He's a hero. You stupid assholes don't deserve what he did for you"

So Eddie was protecting the town? Dustin too and maybe other people were involved? You smile and begin to clean up Eddie's cuts. "Hmm, Dustin's right then" Eddie looks confused and you lean forward to clean the blood on his nose.

"Oh yeah? What did the little butthead say?" he asks with a fond expression, you giggle at his tone. Like Dustin is his little brother or something, it's sweet. It's sweet how he looks after people in Hellfire Club, and it pisses you off that people just think he's a freak and don't look past their stupid prejudices to see how good Eddie is.

"That you're a hero. I believe that Eddie Munson, then again I've always thought you were a hero" it's Eddie's turn to be speechless as he gawks at you.

"You think I'm a hero?" he looks like he can't believe that anyone would ever think that about him and it hurts your heart so much.

"Well yeah, anyone who takes lost sheep under their wing and protects them like you do? Or risks his life for a town that can't see past their own stupid prejudices to see what's really happening? Yeah, I think you're a hero Eddie" your speech is impassioned and a bit of a rant so you're breathless, eyes sparkling at the end of it.

Once again Eddie is speechless but not for the reasons you think. "You're beautiful" he murmurs awed and you're flustered once again. Damn it.

"Maybe the hero gets the girl?" he asks softly and there goes your traitor heart again. Does he mean you? Or some other girl maybe. The thought hurts your heart but you plaster a smile on your face.

"I'm not sure any girl could resist those pretty eyes Eddie" a faint blush coats his cheeks at your compliment and he fakes a swoon, smiles at you all dimples and cuteness.

"Flattery works with me princess, not only am I a hero but I also have pretty eyes" you giggle at his overdramatic gestures.

He's all patched up now so he puts his shirt back in and a funny tension hangs in the air. "So, uh would you like to hang out again? when I'm not all beat up and shit. Maybe Friday?" Oh. You beam and nod feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Like a date?" you ask hopefully and he's still blushing faintly. It's so cute and you're sure tonight you're going to be squealing over every interaction the two of you had.

"Yeah, a date princess, he moves closer and the way he's looking at you is sending your heart into overdrive. "can, can I kiss you?" He asks and you nod, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against his plush pink ones.

He strokes your cheek and then his lips meet yours, it starts off gentle and hesitant, then it deepens and you gasp pulling him closer. You both come away a little bit dazed and you giggle as he flops dramatically on the bed.

"Now that was some kiss sweetheart, he beams at the sound of your giggles, when you sober up you bite your lip and decide to tell him a secret.

"I never thought you'd notice me" you say it quietly but he still hears it and gapes like you've truly stunned him this time.

"Seeing your pretty smile dragged me out of bed most days sweetheart, even more than d&d but that's our little secret" he winks and you make a zipping motion. Before you leave Eddie pulls you into another kiss then another.

Okay, so maybe you could be a little late to return your movie at Family Video if it meant kissing Eddie some more.

🖤💌

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader

[gojotojis]

Butterfly pt. 1

This story will contain sexual assault, I beg you not to read if it will trigger you.

summary: you’re spiraling after a traumatic sexual experience and the only person that sees it is your neighbor.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, drugs, ptsd, trauma, age gap, mentions of death/murder via movies

Note: this is actually so personal to me so pls be kind. this is a genuine depiction of my assault, this is me coping. I am in no way glorifying or romanticizing sexual assault, again this is my story. Writing is when I feel most safe and we are all strangers so I’m okay sharing this. Any hate, blame or criticism will be immediately blocked. Also virginity is a social construct.

April

You had been so eager to give away your virginity, and he seemed so nice. He knew all the right things to say, how to make you feel like he really liked you.

He said he was a virgin which made you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep with him. It started out as kissing which led to more.

You couldn’t help how nervous you were, frozen until he was flipping you onto your stomach. You became terrified when you felt him nudging at your back entrance.

“No,” you breathe, your heart hammered in your chest. You swatted at him but he forced your hands down.

“Please stop” you beg as you tried to squirm away, crying as you felt him pushing into you, tearing you open. You screamed, it was painful and he pulled away.

Your fingers swiped where he hurt you and blood coated them. You crawled away from him until you were grabbing your clothes and running away.

You’re traumatized, but it only worsens when you ignore him for days and he blows your phone up calling you a slut, ugly, fat and a whore.

He spams your phone with videos of him having sex with other girls, him telling you how you don’t compare and that he lied about being a virgin.

You feel like shit, and he pushes it further when he spams your Instagram and messages your friends, flirting with them and saying awful things about you.

You finally block him but the damage is done.

You loved reading more than anything but when a sex scene comes, you’re taken back to that night and the book is ruined.

You can still feel him forcing himself inside of you, it’s like it won’t stop. You cry in the shower, scrubbing your skin till it’s red and raw, hating yourself, blaming yourself for letting this happen.

For being so desperate that you gave something so intimate away to someone so awful.

You tell no one, too ashamed and disgusted with yourself .

Beginning of August

You climb up the stairs, AirPods on full volume with a Mitski song playing. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you hum to yourself.

You’re not paying attention, letting out a small ‘hmph’ when you collide with soemthing hard and fall to the floor on your butt. You’re embarrassed as you look up at the tall man looking down at you.

His hands outstretch to you as his mouth moves but you can’t hear anything over your AirPods. You spot his phone beside you, and grab it. You don’t take his hand as you stand up on your own but you do hand him his phone.

He’s peculiar to say the least, he’s always either wearing a black flindfold or sunglasses, today he’s wearing the blindfold. You have the urge to ask him why he wears it but that’s invasive and rude.

He moved in two months ago right across from you. He’s usually gone for days on end but when he is home, he’s always asking to borrow something from you whether it’s sugar, milk or eggs.

It’s slightly annoying but you’re too scared to tell him, you wonder if he’s ever heard of a grocery store.

His lips are still moving so you pull your AirPods out. “Huh?” You ask, furrowing your brows and lips parting

“Are you okay?” He asks and you nod staring up at him. You think he must be blind, literally and feel actually awful.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention,” you say and then it dawns on you, what if he doesn’t go to a grocery store because he can’t see. You start overthinking and guilt racks through you.

“It’s my fault really, what are you listening to?” he asks, you’re confused how he knows you’re listening to music but then again it was blasted. You hold your phone up to him and then internally slap yourself. “Mitski, it’s called I bet on losing dogs,” you explain and he nods.

“I love that song,” he says and your eyes widen, he doesn’t look like he listens to her.

“What’s your favorite song?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What’s yours?” He asks and you don’t know why that makes you laugh for the first time in months. “I bet on losing dogs,” you say.

“That’s my favorite too,” he says, and you wonder if he’s flirting with you. Part of you blushes but the other part of you panics. Does he just want to sleep with you and hurt you? You try to shove the thought down, he asked a simple question.

“I should get going” you say staring at your shoelaces.

“See you around y/n” he says before he’s walking off and you wonder how he knows your name, you never once shared it with him and he’s never shared his.

Mid August

Your head tips back, eyes rolling. The sound of music drowns out as you feel yourself nearly seizing from the red and purple strobe lights. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve blacked out, your mouth tastes disgusting and your throat burns. The cause of it, lying in a puddle on the floor.

You lift your head up, to try and comprehend your surroundings. The girl beside you leans down, holding a rolled up dollar and snorts the thin white line off the table.

She sniffs and turns to you, offering you the dollar, you vowed to never touch that shit but part of you wonders if it’ll make you feel good, the way the alcohol does.

Your brains screaming no, begging you to leave but your fingers grasp it and she dumps more onto the table. She lines it up with a credit card and you hesitantly lean down, you choke a little as you snort it and sniff.

You slump against the sofa and slowly feel it take its effect. Your body feels so fucking heavy, it’s like you’re wearing a meat suit. You lift your fingers up and watch as they multiply when you wiggle them around, the girl pulls you up and drags you to the dance floor.

You’re like a rag doll in her arms as she makes you dance. Your head tilts back staring at the ceiling and you laugh, it’s dark and intoxicated. The music suddenly feels amplified and you’re clutching your ears, so fucking overstimulated and you panic, feeling the bodies grinding against you.

Your eyes water when you feel hands grip your waist from behind and they press against you. You’re pulling away from them and stumbling through the crowd, fighting your way to the exit.

Fresh air hits your lungs the moment you step outside and you inhale, closing your eyes.

Home, you have to go home.

You ignore the several people that ask if you’re okay as you stumble down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

Relief fills you at the sight of your apartment building, once you reach it, you’re climbing the stairs until you miss a step and fall down. Your head smacks against the floor and little black spots cloud your vision.

“Fuck!” you hear, almost certain it’s your mind playing tricks on you until you feel large and warm hands gripping your face. Their touch is like electricity against your skin.

“Please let me die,” you mutter as a familiar blind folded face comes into view. He’s waving a finger infront of you and you go cross eyed.

“What did you take?” He tries to ask you but your hearing is muffled. His face is blurred but you can make out his lips moving.

You lift your arms up and reach for his face, your fingers graze over his lips and he stills. They’re soft and pink.

His hand gently grabs your wrist and moves your arm back down to your sides. His head tilts like he’s studying you as your vision slowly recovers along with your hearing.

“Can you hear me?” He asks and you nod weakly. He sighs before you feel his arm hook under your knees and the other around your back. He lifts you up and you shake against him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg, his brows furrow but he doesn’t say anything. You’re trembling as he walks you to his apartment. He’s gonna hurt you, he’s gonna trap you and hurt you.

You squirm in his hold until you’re out of his arms and sliding down the wall. You cover your face and pull your knees to your chest. His hand touches your knee and you scoot away. He immediately retracts it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise” he says as you peek between your fingers. His expression is so genuine, and concerned but he’s a man and you don’t trust them. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime trying to think as he lifts his pinky up.

“Please let me help you,” he says, his voice is soft as he kneels infront of you. Your shaky hand reaches toward his and your pinky wraps around his.

He smiles gently, and helps you up. He unlocks the door and guides you inside. You’re too fucked up to take in his apartment.

He pours a glass of water and hands it to you, before he’s handing you two pills of advil. Your pupils are dilated and you look so out of it, your breath reeks of vomit and vodka.

He’s not use to this, any of it. He’s never been in this situation and it’s frustrating because he wants to help you, he knows there’s an underlying reason why you shake and flinch from his touch. The way your eyes survey all exits and keep distance between you two.

Everytime he’s seen you in the halls, you’re listening to music in your own little world with your head down. You’re always shy, and timid.

“You can take my bed and I’ll take the floor,” he says not wanting to leave you alone incase you have a concussion.

Your throat tightens at the idea of sleeping in his bed, at falling unconscious where he can so easily hurt you but you’re tired, so fucking tired.

You hug yourself as you attempt to walk into the only bedroom in the apartment. You slowly climb into the bed, curling into a ball. He watches you from the doorframe, trying to make sense of what his eyes can’t tell him.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

September

You sigh, sifting through your purse for your keys. You push through several empty travel bottles of vodka and tampons, coming up empty. You hear two things behind you, keys jingling and a meow.

You turn around, one hand is holding your keys while the other has a black kitten pressed against his chest. You only care about the kitten at this point, you look up at him and he’s smiling at you.

“You dropped your keys,” he says but you’re itching to touch the fur ball in his arms.

“What’s it’s name?” You whisper not wanting to scare it.

“Dunno, just found him outside,”he says and you slowly reach out, petting the baby. It’s little mouth let’s out the most broken meow but it’s fierce and you smile.

“Are you gonna keep it?” You ask and he shakes his head making you frown. He walks toward his door and starts unlocking it.

“I can’t, I work too much” he says, opening his door. He walks inside, leaving the door open. You awkwardly stand there before peeking inside. You feel embarrassed about the events from two weeks ago, you’ve avoided him since. You can’t imagine what he must think of you.

You slowly walk inside, fingers clutching the ends of your oversized sweater anxiously. He sets the little guy on the floor and you immediately shut the door not wanting him to runaway.

“He’s gonna need formula,” you say, carefully dropping to your knees. You pull your hair from its ponytail and fling the tie across the floor. You giggle watching the cat dart after it.

You feel his eyes on you as absurd as it may sound considering the blind fold but you do. His lips twitch as he watches you play with the kitten.

“What’s your name?” you ask, something that’s been on your mind lately.

“Satoru, Satoru Gojo,” he says and you hum. It’s pretty.

“Thank you, for the other night. I’m sorry I kind of lost it on you,” you say, watching the cat run at you as your hand drags across the floor like a spider before it tickles him. His little feet kick at your wrist but it’s like a feather hitting you.

“That happen often?” He asks.

“No” you lie, admittedly you usually stop before you get super fucked up and you hadn’t touched coke till then. He doesn’t push and you’re grateful for it.

“So what’s the song of the day?” He asks and your brows furrow, arms chasing after the cat who starts running sideways.

“You must have another song you like,” he says shrugging.

“K. by Cigarettes After Sex, let me guess. That’s your favorite song of theirs too,” you say and he smiles.

“It’s like you’re stalking me,” he says and you laugh, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard, more so than the little creature that’s clawing his way up your thighs. His claws hooking into your jeans, determined to get you.

“Favorite album?”He asks and you indulge him.

“That’s hard, there’s so many,” you say, pulling the cat off before he can claw up your sweater.

“Top five,” he says making it slightly easier for you.

“Brand new eyes by paramore, all lana del rey albums, Trilogy by The Weeknd, anything FKA twigs and Wiped out by the neighborhood. You?” You ask and he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom.

“I don’t listen to music,” he says and your face scrunches, musics your love language and your safety net. It speaks and conveys what you can’t.

“Not one song?” And he shakes his head. His life must be so lonely and boring, you frown.

“I did listen to that Mistki song though, depressing much?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Well, yes but that’s what makes it so good,” you say and he doesn’t argue. You wish you could see his eyes, eyes speak a thousand words.

“Favorite movie?” He asks, this is sadly the most anyone’s ever asked about you, you feel guilty that part of you is living for this attention.

“Bones and All, Suspiria, Django Unchained, Dune and Pearl,” you say.

“I’m seeing a pattern here,” he says and you raise a brow. “You don’t listen to music but you watch movies? And what may that be?” You ask. The little voice in the back of your head is begging you to go home, he’s only doing this to get in your pants, why else.

“Nah but one of my students seen some of them, I’ve heard all about Pearl and her axe,” he says, watching the kitten swat your hair tie around.

“She’s just a girl,”you shrug, and his lips tug into a smirk. You don’t like the feeling that takes over, the butterflies that swarm your stomach. Handsome doesn’t do him justice, he’s beautiful even when you can’t see his eyes. From his undercut to his jaw, and his tall lanky stature, he carries himself like he’s the highest predator up the food chain. It’s not threatening, it’s…sexy.

“I forgot American Psycho” you add and his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline before he’s bursting into laughter.

“What? It’s hilarious satire and Christian Bale is…hot,” you say. He wants to ask you a question but thinks better of it, this is the most you’ve ever spoke and he doesn’t want it to end.

“Are you a teacher?” you ask, lingering on what he said moments ago.

“Yeah, you?” he asks. You dropped out of college, feeling too stupid and incompetent, in all honesty you’ve never seen a future for yourself and it feels embarrassing.

“Bookstore,” you say.

“So you like books?” he asks and you give him a look that screams ‘duh’.

“I do, I’d tell you my favorite book but you probably already know it since it’s yours too,” you say as the kitten comes running at you. You gently slide him across the floor and he runs back, loving it.

“Guilty, but you should probably tell me just incase we aren’t on the same page,” he says, you hate the smiles he keeps making appear on your face.

“Normal People”you say, you wonder why he wants to know all these things and what they matter to him.

“It’s like we’re the same person,” he says, you wonder if this works on the girls. You don’t want it to work on you.

“He looks like a Salem,” you say looking at the black cat that’s just obsessed with you.

“I think he’s found his mom,” Gojo says and you want to argue against it but you don’t because he’s right, you’re keeping him.

End of September

You sit on the couch with Salem curled in your lap and a bowl of popcorn beside you, you’re ready to start the movie until someone’s knocking on your door. You feel your anxiety fester but push it down.

You carry the kitten as you walk to the door and look through the peep hole. Your breathing hitches at the sight of Gojo in sunglasses, you swear he hasn’t been home in two weeks but like he said he’s always working.

Now that you think of it, that’s so odd. He’s a teacher who’s never home and works odd hours. You try not to overthink it as you open the door.

Gojo beams at you and the little guy in your arms. He reaches out and starts scratching underneath Salems little chin which sends him into a purring fit.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I was gonna watch a movie,” you say looking back at the lit tv screen, but you remember he can’t see.

“Pearl?” He asks and you’re slightly eager to put it on for him. Your life is lonely, you’ve stopped talking to everyone. Your bestfriend pushed you away months ago and nobodies really cared to see that you’re okay. Your mom and grandma constantly call but you can only take so much criticism.

You try to contemplate the pros and cons. Gojos been nothing but nice, he’s slightly funny and because of him you have Salem. Cons: he’s flirty and a man. Your stomach stirs, and your body tenses as you open your mouth.

“Would you like to watch it with me?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander off to that dark place in your head.

“Okay,” he says and you step back, letting him enter your dim apartment. He takes his shoes off and looks around, taking in the hues of greens, browns and white along with the various plants that take up space.

There’s a picture of you as a little girl with two other kids that look just like you, a boy and girl on the wall, some family photos, graduation picture and baby pictures. You were so adorable, still are.

Your place is a contrast to his. His is fairly empty with a few hints of grey, white and navy.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch as you put on Pearl, Salem leaves you to cuddle in Gojos lap. Traitor.

“Song of the day?” he asks before you start the movie.

“Good to love by FKA twigs” you say and hit play.

You usually hate when someone talks during a movie but you’re desperately wanting to know his thoughts during every scene. He laughs through most of it,

“Did she really just set her mom on fire and then leave to go have sex?” He asks, you bite your lip. “She’s just a girl,” you say and he shakes his head. You reach into the bowl for popcorn and feel his fingers graze yours, his touch is like static and you get goosebumps. You pull away as subtly as possible, you hope you don’t give off the wrong message by all of this.

“She’s deranged,” he says as she stabs the projectionist with a pitchfork repeatedly.

“Christ, who gave this girl an alligator,”he says when Pearl pushes the man’s car into a pond and an alligator eats at his remains.

By the time the movies over, he’s leaving. He says he has to work in the morning but he types away at his phone before handing it to you, your names written on a contact, waiting for your number.

You try to hide your surprise and hesitantly type your number in.

October

Gojo: song?

you: Haunted by Beyonce

Gojo: starting to think you’re working for the government

you: how so

Gojo: only a fed would know all my favorite songs

you: you sound crazier than pearl

Gojo: utterly insane

You enjoy Gojo’s company, still hesitant but he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him.

Mid October

You hum to The Party and the After Party by The Weeknd, sending a link to Gojo as you walk.

You: song of the century

Read at 8:08pm

You’ve been crafting a playlist for him, you’re embarrassed by it though, what if he thinks it’s lame. You title it ‘Peals Greatest Hits’ and make the cover a picture of pearl with a pitchfork, you think he’ll laugh at that.

It’s nice having a friend again.

You wait for Gojo to respond but he doesn’t, he’s probably busy. This time he’s been gone for three days and you don’t question it. You’ve managed to learn little things about him, he’s told you about his students Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara.

He even raves about his students from last year, Toge, Yuta, Maki and a student he simply calls P, you tried to ask what the P stands for and he said Pedro which you laughed, kind of an uncommon name here but you don’t push it.

He’s mentioned his family and the pressure they’ve put on him, how he’s like the golden child of his family.

He actually laughed when you asked if he was blind, your cheeks heated up as he told you he has really bad sensitivity with his eyes which still made you feel bad for him.

You reach your building and start your walk upstairs, eager to see your cat but stop when you reach the top. You’re not sure why it bothers you when you see Gojo with a woman going inside his apartment. She’s pretty, sharp features and glossy eyes. A mole under her right eye. You wait for them to go inside before you make your way to your apartment.

Maybe you’re a creep but you stare through the peephole for what feels like hours, waiting for her to leave but she never does. You wonder if Gojo has a girlfriend, wouldn’t he have mentioned it? But then again he’s a man, when do they ever.

End of October: Halloween

You try not to feel insecure in your pink tights and red bodysuit, this is the most revealing you’ve looked since before that night.

You watch as a row of lemon drop shots line up infront of you, the girls you’ve made friends with since you came in, all cheer and clap as you knock back shot after shot. You order six more courtesy of your blonde friends tab, the bar tenders hesitant but you bat your lashes and just like that you’re getting your way.

The liquor helps to take away from the insecurities, you stop worrying if your stomachs too big or your arms too bulky and relax. Several hands pull you to the dance floor and you dance with them, one of the girls hands you a blunt and you smoke it. You spend the night smoking and drinking till you’re absolutely fucking cross faded.

Once you’re at your apartment building, you’re literally crawling up the stairs. You stop when two sets of shoes come into your view, you slowly look up to Gojo and the woman from two weeks ago looking down at you.

“Should we call someone?” The woman asks.

“Nah, she’s mine,” Gojo says pulling you up off the floor. You stumble backwards but he catches you before you fall, pulling you toward him.

“I’ll see you later” the woman says, walking off and he nods. He’s scooping you up into his arms.

“What are you suppose to be?” He asks.

“Scarwit bitch” you slur and he laughs.

“Scarlett Witch?” He asks and you nod.

You’re disappointed when he takes your keys and opens your apartment door. He carries you to your bedroom.

“What did you do, rob Barbie?” he asks looking around your pink room, you’re too tired to comment as he sets you down on your bed.

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Thanks Toru,” you whisper.

November

Gojo: you hungry?

You: yes…

Gojo: what do you want to eat?

You: pizza, meat lovers and Hawaiian.

Gojo: pineapple on pizza? we have to find a dealbreaker eventually

Gojo: in or out?

You: in

Half an hour passes and there’s a knock on your door. You open it to Gojo with two boxes of pizza, he sets them down while you grab plates.

“song?” He asks, he hasn’t missed a day and you don’t know that he’s made a playlist with each one you give him.

“Kimdracula by deftones,” he subtly adds the song to his playlist as you open up the box. Your belly rumbles as you take a slice of each.

He wastes no time, eating while you take little nibbles. You don’t like eating infront of people, not after being so degraded on your body by the only person that’s seen it naked. Your appetite sours and you set your pizza down.

“Do want to watch X? It’s the technical sequel to Pearl,” you say, he couldn’t give a shit about that deranged girl but you like her so he likes her.

He nods and you wash the pizza grease from your hands, he does the same and you both are moving to the couch. Salem jumps up, of course he picks Gojo as you shuffle through your movie selection before clicking on X.

You feel your face redden forgetting they’re literal fucking pornstars filming porn.

“She looks exactly like Pearl, what the fuck,” he says and you laugh.

You subtly look away, during the sex scenes. They aren’t unbearable but it’s just uncomfortable for you.

“Like sixty years later and she’s still creepy as shit” he says when it gets to the scene of Pearl staring over Maxine while she sleeps.

Gojo actually leans forward pushing his sunglasses up, utterly engrossed in the movie as everyone starts getting killed off one by one. He cringes at Lorraine’s death which you do too. And he cheers when Maxine runs over Pearls head.

“You can have Pearl, Maxine’s mine” he says making you roll your eyes.

“Guess you’ll be happy to know Maxine has her own movie coming out next year” you say.

“Oh we’re so seeing that,” he says and you internally smile but that little voice in the back of your head reminds you, he’s just a man.

You try to ignore it but you feel inclined to ask, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He asks with his brows raised.

You actually feel silly asking the question, because how are you supposed to casually mention the girl you’ve seen him with without sounding like a stalker.

“Just asking,” you say innocently.

“Nah, I never have the time for that stuff. Ive been on dates but that’s about it,” he says and you can’t help that words that blurt out.

“So you’re a virgin?” you internally slap yourself once the words leave your lips.

“No” he says laughing at how hard you’re blushing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive” you say and he shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he’s hesitant to ask but he does.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks and tears roll down your cheeks.

note: haven’t decided if this will be two or three parts, there will be smut so again MDNI! It feels like this took ages to write, my goodness.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro #choso kamo #salemgojo #sukuna #toji fushigro x reader #gojo x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #geto suguru #gojo #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojo saturo #choso x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader

[dcxdpdabbles]

Why did Tim confuse Danny with Dick?

Do you mean the one chat where Tim confront Danny saying "I know who you are?"

If so, the idea behind that one was that Tim mistook Danny for Robin from the verry beginning. As in when he was nine he saw Danny do the flip (I orginally had it that he saw Danny trying to impress Paulina on a school trip to Gotham University which is why he was doing stupid flips in the parking lot but I couldn't think of how to connect Danny and Bruce together from that so i never wrote out the idea) and went "That's Robin!!!!" Since the night before, he saw Robin do the very same move.

Now Tim is roughly seven years younger than Dick (from the comics I've consumed, but my knowledge of DC is mostly moives) so that would make Dick about sixteen.

In this au Dick and Danny are the same age. Which doesn't help Tim's misunderstanding especially since both are blue eyed and dark hair, with slightly brown skin.

They aren't related. They just look very alike, and that's a gaint coincidence. The thing was Tim just went about thinking the orginal Robin's identity was Danny Fenton.

He got Bruce and Jason correct but always assumed that Dick Grayson was unaware of what his Foster dad and Foster brother got up to.

At one point, Tim also thinks this was why Dick was just a ward and not adopted like Jason.

So he never bothers to go to Dick when Jason died. He went to what he assumed was the first Robin - Danny.

Danny himself was retired and attending Gotham U when the little boy (I think he was 13 when Tim became Robin in canon? But to Danny, anyone under 16 is the same as being five. ) came knocking on his door, accusing him of being Robin. He decides that Tim will likely either go through on his threat to expose Batman or try to be Robin himself.

He knows what it's like to be pushed into a hero role at that age, and Tim looks so small with a brain that's too big. Danny knows Tim will be hurt if he's out on the feild - either physically or mentally or even emotionally.

He hates seeing kids hurt even if he is retired and won't ignore the danger Tim is about to put himself in.

After a quick call with Jazz, he decides not to tell Tim the truth (that he was wrong, Danny isn't the organal, Robin) and steps up to help Bruce get his shit together.

Again, though, this was an idea I never flushed out, so there are plots holes like How did Tim get Bruce being batman if he had the wrong Robin? Did Danny live in Gotham since he was 16, or was he back in Amity Park after the field trip? How did Tim keep tabs on Danny if he wasn't? How did Robin keep appearing in Gotham if he thought Danny was in Amity Park? Did Tim never catch Dick slip up afterward while on the field? Who did he think Nightwing was? How did Bruce handle the random man showing up pretending to be Dick? Where is Dick?

To Many questions that I did not have the answers to.

So yeah, that's what that was about, lol.

#dcxdpdabbles #mun speaks #dcxdp crossover #from a fic i never wrote

[littlecelestialmoth]

Prompt: The blood dripping down his forehead was hot and sticky

Ao3

Relationships/Charecters: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley mentioned

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Hurt & Comfort, pre-relationship, post-season 3, pre-season 4, depictions of canonical injuries, wound cleaning, grief surrounding being disabled, lots of domestic comfort okay

Thanks to Juniper for this prompt! (Xe don't have Tumblr rip)

The remnant feeling of smoke burned in his lungs and his eyes felt dry from when they had watered from the acidic fumes of the fireworks and burning flesh. The blood dripping down his forehead was hot and sticky and the left side of his face felt sore and swollen.

Steve knew he couldn't go home like this.

Even if his parents weren't home he couldn't be alone right now. Robin being taken home was bad enough but worse was the fact that Steve probably had his third consecutive concussion. At this point even in his delirious post high state knew falling asleep right now was a risk he can't afford.

His body feels heavy with exhaustion as he pulls himself into the Bimmer, but he knows the chances of his mind letting him sleep now are slim. The first weeks after Upside-Down incident are always filled with near sleepless nights. At least he doesn't have to worry about getting up for work anymore he resolves. He lets the engine run, feeling the cool air from the vents dry the tacky sweat on his face.

He knew if he didn't figure out a plan quick he'd end up falling asleep in his car in the Starcourt mall parking lot. The paramedics had insisted on taking him to get checked out at the hospital but he didn't want to leave Robin. It's a crazy world to live in now, Steve’s pretty sure he and Robin are bonded for life. His friends now consist of one Lesbian and a handful of middle schoolers. If King Steve could see him now.

Steve sighs at this thought. He couldn't go home with Robin and any of the kids are out of the question. Especially after last year's incident.

Traitorously his mind provides him with the image of another acquaintance, maybe almost friend, a sharp grin and dark curly hair.

Steve sets his head back on the headrest and groans. Robin's confession had led to thoughts of his own. The easy banter he had developed with the metalhead working in the game store across the way, about how it was surprisingly easy to get along with Eddie Munson now that he had fallen from his throne. He was starting to realize he was happier down below, surrounded by nerds. He was also starting to realize he very possibly had a type.

The way to Forest Hills wasn't familiar to him but not foreign either, back in the day he had gone with Tommy to make a home call at the Munson's residence for some harder drugs than what he carried around the school yard.

Steve paused again in the Bimmer, giving himself one last chance to excape. He knew Eddie was most likely home. He'd had a show with his band up in Bloomington last night and had taken off work for it well in advance, and the day after. It's all he'd been able to talk about these past few weeks.

Steve hauls himself up the trailer steps, taking a quick look to see if anyone else is home but Eddie. His van stands alone in the dying grass.

Steve knocks gently first. It's late but he's not sure if it's late enough for Eddie to be asleep or not.

After another minute he knocks a little louder and more urgent. A light flicks on in the far window and Steve hears the pounding steps of someone approaching the door from inside the trailer.

The door swings open.

“Jesus, what do you wa- what the fuck happened to you man?” Eddie exclaimes incredulously. It's at this moment Steve remembers he's still in his vomit and blood stains work mandated sailor suit.

Steve groans in pain, Eddie's volume pounding in his head.

“I have a concussion. I can't be alone right now.” Steve explains, he doesn't have the energy to say much more right now.

“Okay, okay shit man, why didn't you go home or to a Hospital?” Eddie asks, gently pulling him into the trailer.

“M' parents are home, can't.” Steve closes his eyes for a moment and remembers he isn't supposed to do that. Eddie guides him over to the couch and hesitantly has him sit down.

“I'll get you some clothes and the first aid kit, you're not meant to fall asleep okay? I need to try and figure out how bad your concussion is.” Eddie says, crouched down in front of Steve, briefly checking him over. His eyebrows are furrowed and Steve’s knocked around brain supplies that Eddie is pretty when he's all concerned with his wide deep brown eyes.

“It's pretty bad.” Steve provides, trying to stop himself from sluring his words. Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Even more of a reason for you to stay awake sweetheart, I'll be right back.” Eddie stands and walks to the back of the trailer.

Steve leans his head back on the couch and regrets it pretty quickly. His brain feels like it's capable of sliding around in his skull like it's on ice. He turns his head, curling into the couch a little in an attempt to relieve the pain. The left side of his face throbs as he thinks. He doesn't let himself close his eyes but it's a near thing.

He vaguely registers Eddie walking back over, a wad of clothes and a first aid kit in hand. His mouth is moving but everything sounds muffled and far away.

Steve lifts his head from the couch. “What did you say?” Eddie frowns.

“I said do you want to change first or take care of your face first.” He repeats.

Steve hears him fine this time. “Shit, it got worse again.” Steve gets out, voice cracked. His throat feels tight and burns as he tries his hardest to not let a pathetic and exhausted sob crawl up his throat.

Eddie kneels in front of Steve again, taking his face into his palm on his less injured side.

“What's worse baby, what happened?” Eddie's thumb rubs at a tear that has slipped down Steve's cheek. Steve sobs a little again at the affection and turns his face further into Eddies warm hand. With Eddie speaking closer to him now it's easier to realize he doesn't hear much of his voice in his left ear.

“You remember last year,” his breath hitches again with a suppressed sob “when Billy beat the shit out of me? I found out I had lost some of my hearing in my right ear.” Steve shuts his eyes tightly and tries to breathe, Eddie lets him take his time before he continues. “It's worse now, I could barely hear you.” Steve explains brokenly, another quiet sob slipping out.

“Oh.” Eddie breathes, looking a little broken himself. He gathers up Steve's hand with his own that isn't holding his face and squeezes it gently. He lets Steve release his grief and tears.

“I'm sorry, I'm just so goddamed exhausted.” Steve breathes.

“I know, I know, it's okay, you don't have anything to be sorry for.” Eddie soothes.

Steve goes to wipe the tears from his face and hisses in pain when his bunched fist aggravates his bruise. He opens his eyes again and meets Eddie's.

“Why don't we get your face cleaned up okay?” Eddie suggests, reaching for a rag on top of the first aid kit. He wets it with warm water in the kitchen sink before returning to Steve and sitting next to him in the edge of the couch. Eddie sits on his right side and some part of Steve is glad for it.

“Can I get you to turn towards me a little bit?” He requests. It's easier to hear Eddie like this. Steve complies, slowly turning his head.

Eddie reaches forward and holds Steve's cheek again. Eddie meets his gaze unafraid, and with something warm in his gaze. Steve shuts his eyes for a moment and breathes. He scrunches his face when Eddie gently presses the wet cloth against his face. He holds it to Steve's forehead, loosening the dried blood there. He wipes as gently as he can but it still stings.

Steve makes a low whine of discomfort and shifts his face further into Eddie’s hand.

“I know love, almost done, you're okay.” Eddie comforts. Steve lets the weight of his head rest further in Eddie's palm.

Steve opens his eyes when Eddie starts swiping the cloth under his swollen eye. He feels another tear leak out. He's just so beyond exhausted and being cared for like this is almost too much. Eddie gives him the smallest fond look through his lashes even though it's lined with concern.

Eddie pulls away, settling the hand that held his face on Steve's knee while he turns to dig through the first aid kit one handed. Steve appreciates the consistent contact.

Producing butterfly bandages, Eddie removes his hand to peel away the backings and gently apply them to the split skin on Steve's face. It's the most gentle anyone has been with him in a long time. It makes his throat burn for a different reason, and his chest feels compressed with emotion. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing as he gets patched up. It's too much to watch Eddie right now, and he knows Eddie won't let him fall asleep.

Eddie smooths his fingers over Steve's good cheek and he opens his eyes.

“You with me?” Eddie questions.

Steve hums affirmative. He sits up a little straighter after noticing Eddie has packed up the first aid kit.

“Do you think you can stand? I wanna get you out of those clothes,” Eddie explains, but his eyes widen suddenly. “because they're gross, obviously, sorry.” He clarifies, turning his head away. In the low light Steve can see that his face is a couple shades darker and red. He huffs a laugh and smiles for the first time since the fucked up drugs from earlier. He musters a little confidence.

“You can just ask you know.” Steve croaks with a smirk.

“Okay stop it, you're in no state to be, all,” Eddie flaps his hands vaguely at Steve. This earns another smile. “do you need help getting changed or not Harrington?" Eddie demands, putting on a firmer commanding tone that is obviously false.

Steve tries to stand on his own and manages it for the most part but Eddie supports him by his shoulder as the room spins.

“A little help, just make sure I don't fall and hit my head or something.” Steve requests. He doesn't have it in him to care about anything much more today. Eddie helps him pull his soiled uniform over his head, avoiding his cleaned and sore face.

Steve eyes the shirt Eddie selected for him. It's a very worn band tee, reading ‘DIO’ in red script, the font big enough for him to make out without his glasses. He shrugs and pulls it on, trying to ignore the way his head pounds. He steps out of his shorts next after kicking off his sneakers. Eddie steadies him by his shoulder and respectfully averts his eyes as Steve pulls on the pair of borrowed sweats.

Steve rights himself and meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Alright, I'm going to put you in my bed then get you some water after we check how bad your concussion is.” Eddie commands, pulling Steve down to hall and into a very messy room. It's cozy in its own way in Steve's mind, used to a neat but cold house. The warm light doesn't hurt as bad as it could but it's still uncomfortable.

He lets Eddie guide him onto the bed and faces him as Eddie crouches to peer at his face.

“Okay, can you follow my finger for me?” Steve nods a little and regrets it, but follows Eddie's pointer finger as he moves it left and right in front of his face. It makes his head hurt to do so.

Eddie puts his hand down, seemingly having gotten his answer.

“Yeah you definitely have vertigo sweetheart, shouldn't have driven with this bad of a concussion.” Eddie sighs softly. Steve tries not to let the pinch of shame in his stomach grow bigger.

“I'm going to go get you some water, I'll be back in a minute.” True to his word Eddie returned within the minute, pressing a mug of water into Steve's hands. He steadies it as Steve drinks and then sets it on his busy nightstand.

“I think you'll be okay to sleep for a bit at this point, but I'll have to wake you up every hour or so.” Eddie explains, sympathetic.

“Okay. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep right now.” Steve says in a small voice. He thinks about his bat in the car and wonders if it would be weird to ask Eddie to retrieve it for him. What would he think Steve would do with it? Give it a snuggle? Yeah, that's a no.

“I'll go crash on the couch and set an alarm on my watch, I'll leave you be man don't worry about-” Eddie assures, waving his hands about as he speaks. Steve grabs his wrists and interups him.

“Please don't go.” Steve rushes out, panic suddenly tight in his chest. His breathing picks up.

“Okay, okay, I'll say, I don't know what I can do for you but I'll stay, okay?” Eddie assures, sitting on his right side on the mattress. Steve's grip looses on Eddie wrist some. He scoots back to lay down and tugs Eddie along with him. Hard enough to get the point but gentle enough to leave him the choice. Even though Steve is fairly heavily concused he doesn't think he'd been reading things wrong.

Eddie shifts up the bed to lay to the right of Steve. They face each other as they lay down, Eddie's wrist still in Steve's soft grasp. Eddie gives him a small tender smile, and Steve lets out a heavy breath before returning it. Eddie shifts for a moment, un-pinning his arm to cup Steve's face again. Steve closes his eyes.

“Will you tell me about your show?” Steve requests.

“My show?” Eddie asks, puzzled.

Steve cracks his eyes open, an amused smile on his lips. “The one you played last night Eddie, you haven't shut up about it in weeks.”

“You sure you wanna hear about it?” Eddie questions, seeming unsure. Steve hums a yes and let's his eyes slip shit again for a moment.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow to tug the sheet over them both. The smell of his sweat and cigarettes on his sheets should be gross to Steve but instead the inherent Eddie-ness of it was only a comfort that soothed his sore heart.

He hears Eddie clicking around on his watch before settling back down. Steve opens his eyes again, deep brown meeting deepest brown.

Eddie leans over carefully and kisses Steves brow bone, right to the left of where his left eyebrow was split and now held together.

Steve sighs contently, eyes slipping shut as he reaches for Eddie's hand. Eddie's hands are bare and warm as his fingers wrap around Steve's own.

“So, this show was definitely different from the usual Hideout scene. For starters there was less drunks and way more fans that know what the good shit is. So, Jeff and I start out with this insane guitar solo from…”

Steve slips into the most peaceful sleep he's had after a run in with the Upside-Down even though he knows Eddie will rouse him in an hour. He's content to curl towards Eddie after being woken and let his hands running through Steve's hair lull him back to sleep.

In the morning Wayne will be home and Steve's parents will be gone again. Eddie will ask him to stay a little longer and insist on reading him the Hobbit as they waste their afternoon in bed.

A few weeks later when Steve makes a reference to The Lord of the Rings in front of the kids, he realizes Dustin's shock and antics will never be valued in his memory the way that Eddie’s hours of reading to him and caring for him will be.

Dustin's shock a few months later when he meets Steve's boyfriend will be a little more memorable if only for the way Eddie grins proudly at him.

#Steddie #steddie ficlet #ficlet #Steddie fanfic #hurt/comfort #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #pre relationship #steddie #robin buckley

[winchesterwild78]

Austin

Austin Master List

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, angst, phone sex-masturbation, Fluff, feels

A/N: Reader is new to the Austin area with her husband and teenage son. When a car accident brings her face to face with Jensen Ackles. Absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not represent reality. This chapter is a little long, but I needed to set up the story. I edited this fast so please overlook any mistakes.

All work is my own, don’t take it

18+ Minors DNI

*************************************************

You sat at a stop light in downtown Austin. Music playing, singing loudly and windows down. The gentle Spring breeze blowing through your car and tossing your hair around. As the light turned green you started to go but slammed on the breaks to avoid the car that ran the red light. Unfortunately the car behind you couldn’t stop in time and ran into the back of you.

“Shit!” You said as you turned on your hazards and pulled to the side of the road. Of course the car that ran the red light was long gone but at least the driver who hit you pulled over too. You got out and walked to the other car. “You okay Sir?” You asked as the very tall man got out. “Yeah, I am so sorry. Are you okay” he asked as he approached you. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m okay.” You chuckled.

The two of you surveyed the damage. There wasn’t too much damage to either car, but he said he would call the police so there could be a record of the accident. You told him “No, it’s fine. Let’s just exchange information and let the insurance companies figure it out. No need to get the police involved.” You smiled.

You walked back to your car to get your information and get a paper to write down his. Something about him seemed familiar. You hadn’t been in Austin long, but he seemed familiar to you. You walked back to his car and stood on the side of the road waiting for him.

He walked over to you taking your information down and handing you his. Oh My God! You screamed in your head. The man that hit you was Jensen Ackles. As you read his information you slowly looked up at him with your mouth slightly open. He smiled coyly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Figured this was easier than to tell you outright who I was.” He said. “Oh um, sorry I’m a huge fan and I’m just in shock. Here, don’t worry about the damage. I’ll take care of it” you stumbled over your words. “Absolutely not. It was my fault and I take responsibility for things I did.” He said.

You relented and agreed. “Well, it was nice to meet you Jensen. Regardless of the circumstances.” “It was nice to meet you too, Y/N. I hope you’re not too sore tomorrow.” He smiled. You smiled back. “Oh let me give you my new number. The one on that is wrong. In case your insurance company needs to get in touch with me” you said writing down your number. He nodded and the two of you went on your way.

You drove home and when you walked in the door you were greeted by your son. He was a teenager who was brooding because he didn’t want to move across the country and away from his friends. “Hey kiddo. How are you today” you asked with a smile. He rolled his eyes “fine”. “Look, I know this is hard on you. I’m sorry we uprooted your life and moved here but we did what we thought was best for all of us.” You told him. “Yeah right. You moved to get away from dad’s girlfriend and try and save your marriage.” He growled. You looked at your son shocked and a little hurt. You thought you hid all of that from him. Tears pricked your eyes “I’m sorry. I really am.” You walked to your bedroom.

You closed your door and sat on your bed crying softly. He was right. You found out your husband was having an affair with a younger woman and it broke your heart. You’d given him everything. He swore he wouldn’t do it again but you decided to move anyway. The company he worked for had an opening in Austin so he transferred and y’all moved. He was dedicated to saving your marriage for a while. Now it seems like you are back to square one. He’s distant, rejecting your advances and taking phone calls away from you. You’re trying to make it work. You love him and would do anything to save your marriage.

A few hours passed and you heard the front door. Your husband was home. He came upstairs and found you lying on the bed. “What happened to the car” he asked. “I got into an accident today. Was hit from behind. Everything is okay. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow and give them the information. How was your day” you asked. “It was fine. Where’s Jacob. I didn’t see his car outside.” He asked. “He’s probably exploring the city. Um, he knows about the affair. I don’t know how, but he knows. He knows that’s why we moved here too.” You told your husband. “Shit! I thought we kept it from him. Great, now he probably hates me too. Maybe you should have just left me.” He said harshly.

“Please stop. I don’t hate you. We agreed to work on us. I love you and I’m trying my best. I’m not ready to give up on us, but are you saying you are” you asked him as tears fell from your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m exhausted and need to shower.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

You got up and felt your heart breaking all over again. Your mind drifted to the accident. Jensen was so sweet and kind. You smiled at his kindness. You walked in the kitchen and started to cook dinner. You heard the shower running so you knew your husband was in the shower. You sent your son a text.

You: Hey honey, I’m sorry I kept things from you. I was trying to protect you. I’m cooking dinner and would love for you to be home to eat.

Jacob: I will. I appreciate you trying to protect me, but who’s protecting you? I can’t believe Dad would do that to you.

You: Honey I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. This isn’t your fight. Your dad made a mistake and I don’t want that to ruin your relationship with him. He loves you.

Jacob: I know he does. I just need time. Love you Ma, I’ll be home shortly.

You: okay baby. I love you too. Be careful.

You put your phone down and started cooking dinner.

*Across Town*

Jensen pulled in his driveway and Danneel came to the door to greet her husband. When she saw the car her eyes went wide. “Jensen, what happened. Are you okay?” “Yeah, just a minor accident. Not too much damage to either car and the other driver is okay.” He said. Jensen smiled slightly at the thought of you. Danneel noticed but didn’t say anything. They both walked in the house. He could hear his children playing somewhere in the house. Their laughter filled the air. “So Jensen, what are you going to do about the accident. Did you call the police, exchange information, is some stranger going to show up here demanding money?” She fired questions at him. “No, I was going to call the police but she didn’t want me to because there wasn’t a lot of damage, we exchanged insurance information and other pertinent information, and nobody is going to come here asking for money. When she realized who I was she was willing to pay for the damages herself. I insisted that I pay since the accident was my fault.” He told his wife. “Okay, Jensen. Just don’t get taken advantage of.” She said with a sour voice. He nodded and walked away.

You were standing in your kitchen waiting for your husband and son. Dinner was done and you could still hear the shower running. Jacob came in and got washed up for dinner after giving you a hug. You went upstairs to check on your husband since he had been in the shower a really long time. As you approached the door you heard voices and what sounded like grunts. Then you heard a woman moaning. At first you thought he was watching porn and getting off. What you heard next confirmed your fear. He was still cheating. “Oh Cindi, touch yourself. Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Fuck! I wish I was pounding that sweet little pussy again.” You stood there unable to move. “Soon baby. I can’t wait to move there. Then we can be together again. Oh Rob I’m going to cum.” “Cum for me baby girl. I’m right there with you.” You heard her moan and scream and him grunt. Still unable to move you felt like throwing up and tears streamed down your face.

You willed yourself to move when you heard the shower turn off. “I love you Rob” she said. “I love you too Cindi. Let me know when you get in town and I’ll meet you.” Your husband said.

You walked back downstairs to the kitchen. Your son saw you and stood up. “Mom, what’s wrong. What happened” he asked with panic in his voice. “Oh no, I’m okay. I guess the car accident earlier gave me a bad creak in my neck. I turned around wrong and something popped. I’m just in some pain. I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I worried you.” You lied to your son. You weren’t sure if he believed you but he sat down. Your husband joined dinner a few minutes later and noticed you had been crying. He took your hand and asked if you were okay. You pulled your hand back and nodded yes. Now that, your son noticed. Your husband looked at you confused but started eating.

At Jensen’s house he was enjoying a quiet dinner at home with his wife and kids. The kids talked and giggled and Jensen smiled at his kids. He glanced over at Danneel and she looked like she was deep in thought. “Hey D, you okay” he asked. “Um, yeah. I’m fine. Hey um the girls and I wanted to get together tonight is that cool.” She asked. “Yeah, go have some fun. The kiddos and I will be fine.” Jensen said smiling at his kids. “Okay great. Thanks babe.” She smiled then took out her phone and sent a text. Jensen noticed how her face lit up with the incoming text but brushed it off.

After dinner you cleaned up the kitchen and told Jacob and Rob you were going for a drive to explore the city some. Jacob offered to go with you but you turned him down. Rob told you goodbye and seemed a little too excited you were leaving. You got in your car and drove to downtown. You figured it was the best place to see the area and find some good places to shop.

It wasn’t long before you found an old ice cream shop and decided to go in. You sat at the counter and an older woman greeted you with a warm smile and a hello. You smiled and asked her for some mint chocolate chip ice cream in a bowl. She smiled and said “coming right up dear”. Then she went to fill your order. You looked around the shop and it was pretty empty. You heard the bell above the door ringing and the sound of children giggling asking for different kids of treats. You heard a man’s voice telling them to calm down a little and to have a seat in the booth. You turned at the sound of the voice. It was Jensen and his children. He saw you and looked surprised and you offered him a soft smile. He approached you and said “hey Y/N. I can’t believe I’ve run into you twice in one day. At least this time I didn’t damage your car.” You snorted and turned red. The older woman came back with your order and you thanked her. Jensen turned to her and said “Howdy Ms Betty, how are you doing today.” “Well Jensen Ackles, it’s good to see you honey. I see you have the kiddos with you. Where’s D” she asked. “She’s out with some friends tonight. Can we get the usual and 4 spoons please.” He said politely. “Coming right up sweetie. Give D my love”. She said as she turned around.

Jensen looked at you smirking at him. “We are regulars. Been coming here for years. Ms Betty is like a grandma to all of us. Her and her husband opened this place decades ago.” He said to you. You nodded and smiled taking a bite of your ice cream. You didn’t mean to but you moaned loudly. Jensen laughed and you blushed. “Sorry. That’s just the best ice cream I’ve ever had.” He smiled and nodded. His daughter, JJ came up to him and told him she wanted her own ice cream because she was old enough now. He smiled at her and nodded. “Hmm daddy’s girl” you smiled. “Since the day she was born” he said. “Um, excuse me Ms Betty, JJ has decided to get her own. You mind putting some in a separate bowl for her please.” He asked sweetly.

Your chest warmed at his kindness and his smile. Ms Betty returned with his order and as he turned to walk to the booth he leaned over and said “if you think that one is good, wait until you try the chocolate brownie. It’s orgasmic”. You met his green eyes as you swallowed hard and your thighs clenched together. You bit your lip and he walked away.

You could hear his children engaged in a lively conversation with him and ever so often you would hear him laugh a deep hearty laugh. The kids giggles filled the shop. You smiled as you ate. Once you were done you got up to pay your bill and Jensen came up behind you. You could feel the heat coming from him as he stood close to you. “How was it sweetie” Ms Betty asked you. “Oh it was the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I need to bring my son, Jacob here. It might lift his spirits. He’s still a little out of sorts from the move.” You said. Ms Betty took your hand and said “oh honey, you bring him here and I’ll fix him right up. I’ve always said ice cream is a cure all.” You smiled and nodded. As you tried to pay the bill Jensen told Ms Betty to add it to his. He told her about the car accident this morning. You tried to argue but it was Ms Betty and Jensen against you. There was no use.

As you started to leave you turned to tell Jensen thank you. “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to pay for my ice cream. I told you this morning it was just an accident and everything was fine.” “It’s nothing, really. So how old is your son” he asked. Oh he’s 16. He’s upset we moved here. We didn’t have a choice really. My husband’s job transferred him out here. So we packed and moved.” You almost told Jensen the real reason but you stopped yourself. You’re actually not sure why you almost told him. You told him good night and thank you again then left.

As you drove home Jensen was on your mind and then you started thinking about Rob and Cindi. Was she really moving here. You moved across the country to get away from her and now she’s following you. You should have just stayed where you were and left his ass.

Just as you pulled in your driveway your phone went off with a text notification.

Unknown: Hey Y/N, this is Jensen. I hope you don’t mind me texting. It was good seeing you tonight. I meant what I said about the chocolate brownie ice cream. 😆

You: Hey, Jensen. No it’s fine you texted. It was great seeing you and meeting your kids. Maybe next time I can meet your wife. I’ll keep that in mind about the ice cream.

You saved his contact information and smiled. You walked in the house to find Jacob on the couch and your husband no where to be found. “Hey Jacob. Where’s your dad” you asked. Jacob shrugged “I guess upstairs. He disappeared after you left. Did you find anything interesting in town.” “Yeah a really good ice cream shop. I want to take you to soon.” You said. You kissed the top of his head and told him good night. “Night mom. Love you” he said. You smiled as you walked upstairs.

When you walked into your bedroom your husband was asleep in the bed. You noticed his clothes were off. You changed and crawled into bed. Rob was snoring softly so you rolled over and scrolled through social media. Somehow you ended up on Jensen’s account. You smiled looking through his posts. As you were scrolling a new post popped up. It was taken tonight at the ice cream shop. The picture was of him and the kids. The caption made you chuckle. “Took the kids to a local spot for ice cream. Next time I’m going to have the chocolate brownie. 😏”

You liked the photo and commented “I heard it’s mind blowing. Ms Betty makes amazing ice cream.” Your phone went off

Jensen: mind blowing huh? 😏

You: well I believe I was told orgasmic but I didn’t think I should post that. 🤭

Jensen: probably not. So what are you doing

You: just laying in bed scrolling social media. Now I’m talking to you 😝

Jensen: I’m in bed too. The kids crashed hard. D is still out with her friends. Can I ask you something?

You: yeah, sure.

Jensen: you said you moved here for your husband but you were at the ice cream shop alone. Was he at work?

You: No. He was at home. He didn’t want to go out with me tonight. No biggie. I’m used to it.

Jensen: oh. I’m sorry Y/N.

You: Thank you.

You: Well I need to get some sleep. Talk to you later Jensen. Good night.

Jensen: Yeah. Talk to you later Y/N. Good night.

You put your phone down and closed your eyes. You heard your phone ding and smiled when you looked at it.

Jensen requested to follow you on Instagram and put his phone down. He sat back thinking about you and the events of the day. A twinge of guilt crept into his chest as he thought about Danneel. He loves his wife but there is something about you that excites him. He smiled when he saw you accepted his request.

You both drifted off to sleep smiling. Not knowing why either of you felt the pull towards each other.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak

#hes gorgeous #jensen ackles #so damn sexy #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles smut #jackles #jensen ackles x reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Part VI

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

VI. Sleeping Restfully

 Every time you wake during the night, Frank is clinging to you. With his heavy arm draped over your waist, or his head upon your breast. 

You don’t sleep well, but you hold him, savoring it while you can. And when the morning light starts gently creeping through the window, and you feel his morning wood enthusiastically pressing against your hip, you decide to give him something to remember you by. You burrow beneath the covers, taking his velvety tip between your lips. He makes a sound in his sleep, but does not wake.

After you take him deep into the back of your throat a few times, those mindless sounds shift to moans of appreciation. “Baby…” His voice is thick with sleep, his long fingers twist in your hair, half guiding you, half just holding on. “Fuck. So good.”

You slow down a little, now that you have his attention. You enjoy working his thick shaft with your lips and teeth and tongue–he tugs on you, urging you up, but you savor his beautiful dick just a little longer.

It hurts to think, it might be the last time.

“Please? Come up here…” He pulls on your shoulders, and after dislodging yourself with a pop you comply, emerging from under the duvet to straddle him. You are soaking wet, a fucking mess from your earlier activities and your little diversion now, your needy cunt swollen and ready as you grind against him.

You don’t say anything, just look into his big brown disbelieving eyes as you slowly impale yourself on his proud cock. You fuck him like that, making unapologetic eye contact until his thumb finds your clit, and you are lost in the madness that is his body inside yours–a part of you suspects you will never feel this good again. 

You cum with a sob, and he right with you, filling you with one last rush of that hot, luscious spend between your legs. You cling to each other as you ride out the aftershocks of your climaxes, soothing each other with kisses and soft panting in the bends of your necks.

It is the sweetest thing you’ve ever known.

You do not say a thing, as you pull back to look at him, taking in every little detail so you can imprint it upon your heart. It’s a face you wouldn’t mind seeing in the morning on a regular basis, but apparently that was not an option with this man.

He looks at you as though he is drowning, but he does not ask you to stay, as you tenderly kiss his forehead, and extricate yourself from him. You gather your clothes, not looking at him once, before you retreat back through the adjoining door to your room.

Only later do you realize you accidentally took his black t-shirt too. You press the fabric to your face, inhaling deeply. It smells wonderfully, heartbreakingly like him, and you stash it in your suitcase.

***

A part of you just wants to skip the stupid farewell brunch–but you’re hungry, and it’s free. You put on your last sundress, a beachy paisley print number, and descend downstairs on heavy legs.

You freeze in the lobby when you find Frank standing there– in one of his jeans and sport coat combos that for some reason crosses the wires in your brain–as though he’s waiting for you. It takes you a few long seconds to remember that you haven’t done anything wrong, and you don’t have to hide from him. 

It’s somewhat heartening, when you realize he feels just as awkward as you do. “Hey,” he says softly, holding up his hands, as though he can’t stop himself from reaching for you. The impulse is quickly quashed by him shoving said hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” you say just as softly, as though if you speak too loudly, you might break this fragile thing between you. 

“Can we…hang out? Until we get home, at least?”

The point in which he can safely ditch you at the airport, you can’t help but think. But you don’t want to fight. You can’t make this man want to see you again, after this weekend has gone. So you just nod, and you know he knows you’re not ok. You see it in his big soft eyes. For a self-proclaimed nihilist, this man is strangely empathetic. Perhaps because he spends his time over-analyzing everything, just to come to the same conclusion: everything is shit, and everyone is out to hurt him. 

You are so glad you’re already wearing your sunglasses–and that your mascara is waterproof.

You vaguely wonder what this big strapping man would do if you took him by the shoulders and shook him.

You walk to the hotel terrace together in silence. No one is more surprised than you, when he takes your hand under the table, though he won’t meet your eyes.

You are more than happy to share a ride back to the airport early. You decide you are ready for this weekend to be done. Monday can’t possibly  hurt any more than this.

On the plane, with one of the tiny complimentary bottles of regional red wine in you, you finally get up the courage to say something about all this. “You’re going to wish you’d embraced the miracle.” 

Frank, who wasn’t exactly relaxed sitting by you, lost in his thoughts, somehow stiffens even more.

“Please don’t do this now,” he pleads. “We are an hour away from parting as friends.” 

You shrug, suddenly, if not fatalistically, amused. “What’s it matter?” you ask. “If you never want to see me again?”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to see you again. I said it won’t happen, because that’s how these things go.”

“You don’t think that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

“Just being a realist.”

“What if I, heaven forbid, took matters into my hands to prove you wrong?”

Somehow, this man manages to frown all while his mouth twitches, trying not to smile.

“I think I would be alarmed.”

“You’re saying that if I showed up in the lobby of J.D. Power with a boombox playing In Your Eyes you would send me away?”

“I wouldn’t have to. Security in the building would.”

“Hmm. They could try, but I’m pretty fast.” You slide him a conspiratorial grin, your bravado definitely lubricated by wine. “I outran a mountain lion one time, you know.” 

Now, he does smile with you, even if reluctantly. “I thought it was a lynx?”

“Basically the same thing…”

“Uh huh.” He looks down at you, and you don’t think you’re inventing the warmth of fondness in his gaze.

“You’re going to wish you embraced the miracle…” you urge him again, willing him to relent, just a little. 

“Y/n…” There is exasperation in that word, but also tenderness. It’s there, and it’s real, and you want to grab on to this man and not let go. Instead, you sit with your hands in your lap, dying inside as you force yourself to behave like an adult and not wail and kick and scream. 

“You're going to miss me.”

“Like a migraine.” He's grasping for insults. You can tell his heart isn't really in it now. 

“You're going to go back to your important job manipulating the hearts and minds of the American people, and you're going to say to yourself, 'Wow, I miss that girl who called me on all my shit.'”

The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“Because who doesn't like having their sanity challenged at every turn?”

“You're going to be so bored.”

“How will I live with myself? Alone, doing exactly what I want to do, exactly when I want to do it?” 

You go on like you didn’t hear him, “And you're going to say to yourself, 'I really have a hankering for an engraved rock. Maybe a full set of Live Laugh Love. And you'll come find my shop. The Salty Siren. Right on the beach. I won't even say ‘I told you so.’”

“That's not going to happen, y/n.” He says it gently, and you can almost taste the regret. 

You look away, that unbearable feeling brewing in your chest, that warm ball imploding on itself like a black hole, eating away at you. 

“Your loss.”

He is studiously looking out the window, his hand clenched in a fist on his knee. He says nothing in reply, and that is when you're certain the magic of the weekend is dead. That even if deep down he would like to give the two of you a chance–he’s too much of a coward to take the leap.

Don’t Say Goodbye 

“I know what you’re going to say,” you tease as you walk towards the taxi stand, trying to pretend like your bones are not leaden with dread of the moment in which you will truly have to say goodbye. “It’s not me, it’s you…”

“It’s definitely you,” he fires back with zero venom, a surprising softness in his eyes. When you sigh and roll your eyes he amends quietly, “It’s definitely me.”

He could have knocked you over with a feather when he offers a hug–and he is the last one to let go. “It was very nice to meet you, y/n.” Oh God. Why does he have to be amicable now? It makes it hurt twice as badly, than if he'd been an asshole. When he bows to you before opening your taxi door for you, loading in your bag, your heart lodges in your throat. Because this man knows how to act like a gentleman. He can be so sweet, when he wants to, and the thought that he thinks himself unloveable tears your heart in two. 

“Frank…”

You just stare at each other with the door of the taxi open, you half in the car.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

“I guess so.” Anything, to prolong the inevitable. 

“You dodged a bullet, not marrying Kevin.”

“Ok.”

“But he was a fool to let you go.”

It almost would have felt better, if he’d stabbed you.

“Thanks.” 

And you just keep staring at each other, neither of you really ready to let go. It almost annoys you. Why? Why does it have to end this way? It makes you say with more than a little bravado you don’t really feel: 

“We're holding up the line, Frank. There are other people in the world.”

“There are?”

He looks at you with a sparkle in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes, and you feel yourself slipping down, falling the rest of the way on this already slippery slope, head over heels, in love with him. God, it's going to hurt when you hit the bottom. 

You shake your head, smiling through your tears. 

“Why couldn’t I have met you years ago?”

“Count your blessings, y/n.”

At the moment, you don’t feel blessed. You feel like the universe does in fact have it out for you.

“Goodbye, Frank.”

“Have a nice life, y/n.”

Fuck if he doesn't sound as miserable as you feel. 

It's him, who moves just a fraction, brushing your lips with his one last time. Those soft, kissable lips you'll never feel again. It's like your soul leaves your body, when he pulls away. You feel like a jar of poisonous butterflies is unleashed in your belly. And then, you have to sit down, because your knees won’t hold you, and he is gently shutting the door, and the taxi is pulling away, carrying you in the opposite direction from the most interesting man you’ve ever met. 

Determined to be brave one last time, you flip him off out the window as you drive away. Through a film of tears you look back, and see him looking after you wistfully, looking lost on the curb with his suitcase in hand. But he smiles to himself at your rude gesture, and you can just hear that grunt of reluctant mirth.

It adds a final twist to the knife that's lodged in your heart.

You cannot tell, if you are laughing, or crying, in the backseat of the taxi.

Tbc...

#destination wedding #destination wedding movie #frank x you #frank x y/n #frank x reader #frank MrNiceCaboose 🤣 #Frank Reeves x you #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #vino veritas destination wedding fic #keanu reeves x you #destination wedding frank

[queenie-the-court-jester]

𝐥; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: masterlist

𝐭𝐰: none, just reader being fruity. Not proofread, sorry for any bad grammar

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: all characters, including the reader, are 18+. Mdni since this series will include grave topics and nsfw content. Reader is depicted as fem and goes by she/her pronouns

You woke up after a crazy dream of taking a shower and some dude kidnapping you as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, groggily you sat up as you could faintly hear birds chirping outside the little window next to the bed you were on

wait. A window? Your eyes shot open at the realization, this wasn't your bed. There was no way you would ever be able to afford all the fancy stuff in it. You practically jumped out of the bed, you were wearing only a very fine silk nightgown and bonnet. You walked over to the door, about to open it when it opened itself

A pair of black eyes stared at you, and you stared right back. The elderly man held a tea set in his hands, suddenly breaking the silence

"I see you are awake.. that is good news, im sure you're wondering where you are right now hm? Come nowy dear, let's sit down and talk over this subject over tea"

You hesitantly followed him to the cornet of the room, sitting across from him on the little tea table. He seemed frail and weak, the thought about rocking his shit so you could escape crossed your mind, but you couldn't do that to an old man. It was against your morality

"so.. who are you? Where am I?"

"I am cosmo soleris, the headmaster of this school. You are in my school, one of my students found you unconscious in the woods and brought you here, tell me, do you remember anything?"

"no just.. some guy kidnapped me after I finished showering I think..?"

"I'm terribly sorry this has happened to you.. unfortunately it seems you aren't from our world, so it may take a while for us to find a way for you to return home"

"...what."

He explained to you of different worlds and realm travelling of which you understood nothing of, only that a hole must have opened to their world in the middle of your kidnapping and you must've fell through

"rest assured my dear, we will do everything we can to find this hole and send you back home. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here until he figure everything out. Oh! Where are my manners.. what is your name?"

"y/n.. y/n l/n.."

"welcome y/n"

he smiled warmly at you, setting down his teacup. Guess you had to stay for a while.. fuck, you already missed your bed

Cosmo offered for you to study at the school meanwhile, he looked for a way to send you back home. At first you thought it would be nice, you were supposed to enter your senior year anyway, and free tuition is always a welcome benefit to dropping into some random ass world. Until your new schedule was dropped off, Cosmo's annoying ass pet bird swooped into your bedroom through a window on the roof. Honking and cawing until you got up.

You shot dirty looks at the bird, rolling your eyes as you grumbled and muttered. Trudging to the tiny bathroom to get ready. After you got out, the bird sat on your bed. Staring at you with it's beady eyes

"what are you even..a chicken? Duck? Cockroach?"

It only cawed at you before hopping onto the floor, walking to the door and waiting for you to open it. You sighed and walked over, making your way down the hall with the bird as your guide

"what did Cosmo call you again? Phee-phee?"

It chirped as if saying "yes"

"Well phee-phee.. guess we're stuck together for a while"

You were so distracted Talking to the ugly ass bird you didn't notice the girl right Infront of you. It was too late since you bumped into her and somehow fell onto her tits

"oh my god shit are you okay-"

"ow.. that hurt.."

You looked up, only to come face to face with the hottest girl you've ever seen. No, literally. She was so hot, scalding actually. You winced as you quickly got off her, helping her get back up

"so you're the new transfer student.. I am Chloe javius Skylar. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She did a polite short bow, blonde curls bouncing a bit

"..hey chloe, do you like girls"

"huh."

#This part is short because I'm a lazy bum #yandere x reader #queenie answers #yandere x darling #queenie ocs #queenie writes #ocs #yandere #Yandere female x reader #Oc x reader #Yandere girl x reader #x fem reader #Yandere x fem reader #Yandere series #Tw yandere #crack fic #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #soft yandere #Fantasy #Fantasy yandere x reader

[visceravalentines]

threw this little blurb together based on a conversation with @curlytemple about the possibility that Benson meant to kill everyone at Burgersx3 including himself and uh......read at your own fucking risk, man.

tw graphic depiction of homicide, suicide, and animal death. reference to past child abuse. dead dove, do not eat.

in his dreams, they all die.

it plays out pretty much the same at first. he hits Chris in the gut, again, on purpose, again. he can still hear his old man saying "a gut shot's a helluva way to go, kid." sometimes, in the dream, he pulls the trigger again for the mercy kill. sometimes he doesn't.

Hardy's faster in his mind. makes it a little closer to the phone every time, but he gets him. he always gets him, and he always takes half the office down with him, papers and cups and pens and shit all over the floor.

it's funny, when it happened for real, he didn't hear Jess screaming until he was looking right at her, and then it was all he could fucking hear, all he could fucking think about, and she wouldn't fucking stop, and he tried to get her to stop, but what're you gonna do? what's he supposed to do? it's the same in the dream. she isn't screaming until he turns around and then she is and she always was.

he never sees it hit her. the camera of his mind always shifts angles. there's probably something to that but he can't think what and he doesn't really care. all he knows is, the sound her body makes when it hits the ground makes him think of when Ma would sit up late at the table and he'd know it meant the fucker was back in town, and he'd excuse himself to his room and out the window for the evening. easier for everyone that way.

that's all pretty much standard. it's the next part that's weird.

he feels the gun in his hand, hears the break and the hollow plastic clatter of spent shells on the linoleum. he just fucking mopped. he reaches in his pocket for the last two rounds.

once, he looked down and saw something written on one of them in permanent marker or some shit. a B or an R or something. but everybody knows you can't read in dreams, and it only happened the once as far as he can remember.

he walks slow, real slow, dream slow, around the tables until he's facing him head-on. and he's high-def every time. wet cheeks, trembling lips, and those fucking eyes, blue in a way that can't be real. lashes long like a girl's. looking at him with the blind fear of a baby animal too fresh-born to understand but with enough sense to know it's fucking over. enough instinct screaming in the blood to stay still, stay still, don't breathe, stay still.

stay still and let it happen.

stay still until it's over.

don't breathe or you'll never get the fucking smell out of your nostrils.

he tastes bile in his mouth when he pulls the trigger.

he never runs. never even tries. he hits him in the chest, dead center, every time. and he crumples like a beer can under a boot. goes to the ground with this soft, feathery gasp that echoes in his brain. it makes him sick.

he steps forward, stands over him. it takes him way too long to die, way too fucking long. the mess of his chest is seven shades of red. sometimes he can see his heartbeat in the swell and collapse of gore, and that's how he knows he's dreaming. because no man on earth takes a blast of buckshot to the ticker and keeps ticking.

it reminds of the time he hit a rabbit doing 95 on the canal road, vision so blurred he could barely see past the hood of the car. how he slammed on the brakes, skidded to the shoulder, and through the cloud of dust he watched the thing heave and die in the scarlet of his taillights, and he gripped the wheel so hard his fingers hurt the next day and sobbed until his voice went hoarse.

he never cries, in the dreams. never feels regret. never feels much of anything.

he stands and waits. watches the blood bubble helplessly on his lips, the tears coming down in sheets from those eyes. those fucking eyes. looking back at him glazed-over and heavy with an apology. more remorse in those eyes than he's ever felt for anything in his life. and it hollows him out. cleans him right out like a carcass strung up in the yard. empty in the ribs. blood all over the ground.

some of it oughta be his, right?

so he flips the gun, and from the floor he watches him do it, and the funny thing about dreams is that he sees it from both angles at the same time, from his own perspective and from the ground looking up with the light growing cold and faint around the edges.

he nestles the muzzle snug under his chin, back against his throat. you gotta aim it right or you'll miss the brain, blow off your face, and then you'll really wish you were dead. good thing he can see it from both angles. make sure he gets it right the first time.

he's not scared, before he pulls the trigger. for one goddamn glorious moment, he's not scared of anything.

it all goes red when the gun goes off, the red of taillights in the dark, and he never wakes up with the bang. no, he wakes up one...two...three seconds after with every muscle clenched and his tongue clamped between his teeth. and he stares up into the black and waits for it to come back to him. how it really happened. where he is. who he is.

what he's done and what he hasn't.

it's only once he's sure of things that he seeks him out, sends a hand roving through the sheets until it meets the angle of a hip or an elbow. sometimes that's enough. sometimes he won't allow himself more.

sometimes he will. sometimes he needs to. sometimes he rolls to the side and pulls him in under his arm like a teddy bear, shoves his face into the bone of his shoulder and pretends to sleep until the sun comes up.

either way, he spends the rest of the night trying to forget. trying to forget the sound, the screams of a girl or a boy or a rabbit. the smell of blood and gunpowder. the heat of steel against his throat.

the feeling of feeling nothing, nothing at all, when he looks into those eyes, blue in a way that can't be real.

#yikes #wigged myself out a little with this one ngl #the passenger #tw suicide

[cowchickenbeefpork]

THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG TO FINISH DUE TO LEES CLOTHES AND HER NECK WOUND OUGHHHHHHH

imo the Tetch virus arc was written quite clumsily…the whole thing is supposed to be a loss of control a loss of self by acting in your own impulses like a wild animal but their ego is still like. Very much there it becomes more a violent defense of the ego instead of what's beneath, what is truly repressed the most by the individual. like we dont see deep down what these characters truly are if you took away any social paint and put their worst most repress impulses on the frontline. its literally just the original characters but a bit more fucked up, the virus should focus way wayyyyyyyy more on the impulses than the ego justifications

like jim gordon we get told multiple times how much gulit he has for his actions how hes huanted by whats he done to others during this AND WE SEE JACK SHIT OF THAT WHEN HE HAS THE VIRUS THAT MAKES YOU ACT ON YOUR IMPULSES! MAKE HIM SHOW WEAKNESS IN THIS ARC! SHOW TEARS! SHOW GULIT! SHAME! ANYTHING HE FUCKING REPRESSES MORE THAN HIS LITTLE FITS OF ANGER!!!!!!!!!! BIOLOGY DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IS MORE MORALLY WRONG IT WOULD MAKE HIM THINK ABOUT THAT MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i also dont like how they just make her fine and in love with Jim again after she gets the virus, if its having your most deep-seated impulses take over, wouldnt she try to get rid of him???? let her get mad at him and try to kill him for sure, LET HER TRY TO KILL THIS MAN AND MAKE IT TORTUOUS AND LONG!!!!!! LET HER BE MEAN! LET HER BE PRIDEFUL LET HER TRY TO INTENTIONALLY HURT OTHERS DURING THIS ARC BECAUSE SHE IS NEVER ABLE TO!!!!! LET HER BE MEANNNNNNNN

basically in my rewrite the tetch virus basically just almost completely removes the impulse control of someone and fixates on the things most repressed by the individual, taking them over completely, making them unrecognizable, making them act like a wild animal. those most repressed impulses/desires will also begin to seep themselves into other aspects of being as well, like hunger, thirst, libido, anything like that. the virus also often makes someone be able to lose a shit ton of blood while still living, if it didn't then it wouldn't be able to spread to other people as easily

lee still puts Jim in a coffin with a little radio linked to one she gave the GCPD but more so to give them a long and tortuous death while making sure everyone else around him suffers too, the only reason he got out AND GOT THE VIRUS WHEN LEE NEVER INTENDED THAT TO HAPPENED was they found him in that fucking coffin after over a hour and lee accidentally bled all over his face, not even aware she was bleeding from her own neck because of how focused she was on having this fucker die

#Tw gore #tw Blood #gotham #gotham fox #gotham 2014 #canon rewrite #gotham rewrite #gotham fanart #fanart #blue #red #jim gordon #leslie thompkins #gotham tv #artists on tumblr #my artwork #gotham art #jim gordon fanart #leslie thompkins fanart #also. this is her new outfit for that arc. shes dirty as hellllll #this better not flop i spent 6 and a half hours on it in total grrr

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 10

Read the Last Page

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~4.4K

WARNINGS: Triggers for themes of self harm/ suicidal ideation / fearing that someone will self-harm / Mentions of physical spousal abuse and escaping an abusive marriage. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / mentions of past drug use / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie tries to put himself back together. Frankie tries to figure out why the fuck he's like this. Audrey realizes there is something she's afraid of.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

As always, this is un-beta'd, please do shoot me a message with any typos. Feel free to pop into my inbox if you'd like to chat. We've only got one chapter after this for these two. I hope I do them justice. Here goes nothing.

Francisco spends the next two weeks in hiding.

As much as Benny’s place can be considered hiding. 

Santiago is too close to the thing and Will would have tried to pull it apart, deliberately. Methodically. So he could come up with a way to make it right.

Frankie doesn’t want solutions right now, he just wants to feel like shit.

And Benny knows Catfish fucked up somehow, because the last time Frankie was here was when he got hit with the coke charge that suspended his license. 

He supposes Fish hiding at his place is better than Fish running through an eightball. 

But Frankie’s first night here is the worst night Benny’s had since then.

The night after Tom died included. 

It wasn’t all on him then. 

He couldn’t hear Frankie’s stuttering sobs in the next room then.

His stomach didn’t churn with the wails that Frankie tries to stifle with pillows when the walls of his heart can’t hold them in any longer then. 

But Benny soon learns that Frankie going silent is far worse. 

And so he hauls himself from bed, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, and quietly makes his way across the hall to the guest bedroom, rapping two knuckles against the guest bedroom door.

“Fish?”

Still, silence. 

“Listen, you ain’t gotta tell me what’s up. Not if you don’t want to. I just. I just gotta know that you’re okay, buddy."

“I don’t have fucking coke if that’s what you’re asking.” Frankie’s voice is hoarse. Muffled where he’s face-down in a wet patch on the pillow.

And Benny already knows because Benny checked his bags while Catfish was in the shower and nabbed Frankie’s keys and pocket knife to tuck into his own bedside table. 

But still.

“I just need to know—” Benny starts. Thinks better of it. Decides he couldn’t live with any more regret. Continues softly. 

“—that you’re not going to hurt yourself, Fish.”

“It’s fuckin’ fine, Benny,” Fish’s voice is only muffled by the door now. 

Benny stares at the ceiling. 

“Okay,” he rolls off his tongue. “Can you do something for me though?” He bends to sit on the floor with his back against the doorframe. 

“The fuck is it Ben?”

“Can we just—do a few breaths?”

And Fish doesn’t say “no” because Fish doesn’t say anything.

“I’m gonna put my hands on my stomach,” Benny reframes, “and breathe in through my nose. All the way in until I move my hands.” There’s a pause as he does. “And I’m gonna let it out and do it again.”

He repeats this cycle. A bit less instruction each time, but following through himself. Palms rising and falling over the worn jersey of his t-shirt. 

He repeats the cycle. 

Of forcing Frankie to breathe. 

Of ticking his nervous system cool.

Until he hears a mumbled, “thanks, Benny,” from the other side of the door. 

“Listen man,” Benny starts softly.

“I love you, okay?”

“Love you too, man.”

And he feels a bit better. 

But Ben Miller still doesn’t sleep that first night.

Fish hangs around the house like a phantom for the next three days. Benny hears the creak of floorboards in the guest room. The latching of the bathroom door. The tv click through channels. 

Hears Netflix pause when it asks if Frankie’s still watching. 

He is. 

Baking shows from the sound of it. 

Benny tries the whole first day to offer him coffee and breakfast. Lunch and Pepsi, because maybe Coke would have been insensitive. Dinner and a beer. 

“‘M not hungry.”

“Frankie, you gotta at least drink some water.”

“Got some from the sink.”

So Benny takes to leaving snacks in the guest bathroom.

He breathes a little easier when some of them start to disappear. 

And he occasionally hears Frankie sniffling. And then hears deliberate breaths. 

He’s grateful to have given Frankie that at least. 

The poltergeist’s activity spreads on day five when Benny hears footsteps on the stairs.

And he has to fight a wince when finally the man appears. 

Frankie looks like a husk. 

Puffy eyes, hair matted down to his head. Overgrown, scraggly beard that's greying on sallow cheeks. 

And Benny just pulls two beers from the fridge, cracks them open on a magnet, and klinks the base of his against Frankie’s.

“Wanna watch the game?” 

“Sure,” Frankie mumbles.

And Benny breathes a little easier.

He clocks Frankie on the knee with his knuckles after about half an hour of silence, “hey, you eat today, man?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Go take a shower. Gonna order pizza. Sausage is good, right?”

“Not hungry.”

“I’ll get goat cheese on it.”

And Frankie sits for a beat.

“Fine.” 

He has a bit more color in his cheeks when he returns to the kitchen.

“Hey, you ever try meditation?” Benny asks after a bit through a mouthful of pizza. 

“No, I’ve never fucking tried meditation, Benny.”

“I can show you, if you want.”

“Not right now.”

“No,” Benny huffs through a bite of crust, “not right now. I’m gonna get you a journal too.”

And Frankie starts to protest, but he knows Benny is trying to offer him the tools that he himself uses to get him through.

There’s a Moleskin and a pen in the bathroom when Frankie ventures out in the morning. 

And like summer sun after the spring equinox, Frankie emerges from his cave earlier and earlier each day.

“You wanna talk about it?” Benny asks one night from where he’s slumped down on the couch, beer in hand, basketball game on tv. 

“Nah.” Fish answers from the other end of the couch, taking a swig from his own bottle.

“‘S about Moose?”

“Yeah,” Frankie works a fingernail between paper and glass, the tack of adhesive catching on his fingerprints.

“She get hurt out there?”

“No,” Frankie answers.

After a minute.

“I hurt her.”

“You cheat on her?”

“Wha–no. No. It’s not like that. I didn’t cheat on her.”

“Good, you’d…” And Benny chokes off his first reaction.

“’S fine, you can say it.”

“Nah.”

“I’d be a fuckin’ idiot. I already am. I’m aware,” Frankie scrubs a hand down his face. “I just. I said things I ain’t proud of.”

“So go fix it.”

And Frankie lets out an astonished huff at how simple the world is to Benny sometimes.

“You in a headspace for me to tell you somethin’?”

“Say what you gotta say, Benny.”

“Listen, Fish. You gotta just face it. And don’t just say 'I’m sorry' because girls hate that shit. Say what you’re sorry for and why you were a fuckin’ idiot for sayin’ it and that it’ll never happen again. And then don’t fuckin’ do it again. Not if you wanna keep her. Because that girl? She ain’t gonna put up with your shit.”

“She left.”

“She left because you probably pushed her away, Catfish.” Benny shifts on the couch to place his beer bottle on the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees before he finally looks over at Frankie.

“Look, I dunno what you said, but she’s got thick fuckin’ skin. Moose will take a lot of shit right on the chin and fling it back at you. So whatever it was, you gotta figure out why you said it. You gotta do that work on yourself, man. And don’t yank her chain, either. She ain’t gonna give you third and fourth chances.”

“You read that shit in a book somewhere, or you just got a lot of experience apologizing, Benny?”

“I do.”

Frankie scoffs.

And he wants to jump right up off of this couch, march up the stairs and slam the bedroom door behind him. But he knows what that would do to Benny. 

So he waits until the game is over.

Excuses himself with a “goodnight” and a “thanks for the beer.” 

He finally cracks open the journal Benny bought, and on the first page he scrawls:

Why the fuck am I like this?

The hardest part, Frankie thinks, is that his neural pathways are still wired to her presence. 

Any second she’ll step through the doorway.

Wild black curls and a soft smile. 

A matter of moments before she’ll press her soft weight to his back and her lips to that spot just behind his ear with a soft hum.

Lithe warm body to cover his own.

A pretty little thing to be used when the need strikes and then…

His own words ring in his ears. Crumble the fantasy into powder.

The dreams don’t help either.

The ones of that night in her apartment. 

The way things could have gone.

Her hands braced against the wide expanse of his chest as she chases the high that will make her forget.

Both of them move to fit around his neck.

And she comes with his full name on her lips.

And he follows her with sparks bursting in the black at the edges of his vision.

Little death has green eyes.

Little death that slips through his fingers each time he palms his cock in search of relief.

Frankie finds the strength to face Santiago once he’s back at his own place.

Strength or loneliness.

He’s not actually sure on that one. 

But he swipes a hand down his face after he shifts his truck into park in the driveway. He rubs it around to the back of his neck, fingers working at a knot there.

He's here.

Might as well.

Dinner passes without incident. Santi's fresh off the plane from Guatemala. And the hesitancy with which he discloses it tips Frankie off.

"How is she?"

Santiago angles hard dark eyes in his direction. And he wants to tell Frankie that she's distracted. That her gaze is constantly weighted with something that all of this dredged up. She's functional now but she's running on luck. Audrey can't afford to run on luck.

She's not well. But that's not Santiago's to confess.

“Frankie. What happened?” Comes out instead.

“I flipped.”

That’s all he needs to say for Pope to know how bad it is.

“What did you say, Francisco?”

“I…I was jealous seeing her there," he rubs at his lips with a finger. "With that man. And then I couldn't stop myself from thinking about everyone else. I said crude things.”

“We say crude things to each other all the time, that wasn’t it. What did you say, Frankie.”

“I talked about other men using her,” he swallows hard. “I…I called her a pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and then…”

“Discarded?” Santiago finishes, eyebrows in his hairline. 

“I didn’t," Frankie looks down at his lap. "Didn’t say that. Didn’t get that far.”

Santi runs his palm down his face and across his chin and springs from his seat. “Oh. Well then. What were you going to say? What did you intend to say when the first half of that sentence left your fuckin’ mouth. Huh? What was it, Francisco?”

“I wasn’t myself, Pope…I…”

“And you put your hands on her. Again you put your hands on her, Francisco.” And some dark part of Frankie’s brain thinks that where Pope took his side the first time, now he takes hers.

He should be taking hers.

“I saw the bruises.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, apologize to HER.”

Gestured broadly in the direction of Washington DC.

“I did. I did that night,” his voice is a low rasp, “but I…I was a mess.”

“What did you tell her? I’m sorry with big fuckin’ tears in your eyes?”

“Yeah.” And the big fuckin’ tears are back. 

“You told her she was disposable, Francisco. I don’t care if the word didn’t come out of your mouth. That’s what you said. A body. Because you were thinking with what, your dick? You told her she’s unwanted. Unloved, Francisco.” 

And something in the way he says it makes Frankie think that he knows more than he lets on.

“The crocodile tears? That shit’s not enough. How many times has she grounded you? Pulled you out of one of your fuckin’ moods without asking what put you there in the first place? How many smiles has she put on your face, huh? She brought the fuckin’ light back into your eyes, hermano. I see it when you’re with her. How many times has she made you fucking feel something again, Francisco?”

“She fuckin’ sees you. Every. Fucking. Part. Of you," Santiago stabs two fingers of one hand into the palm of the other with every word.

“And you know what?” He points at Frankie now.

“She loves you anyway.”

“She doesn’t love me.”

“You know she sent your daughter a birthday present from you because she knew that you were gonna forget? Yeah. Your daughter’s birthday was a week ago, Francisco.”

Santiago’s kitchen is spinning.

"I should go," Frankie starts, wincing at the way his chair scrapes across linoleum when he stands.

“But you told her she’s a thing that you wouldn’t keep.” And he definitely didn’t tell Pope that.

“I think we both know that’s a lie, Francisco. But only one of us is willing to admit it.”

“And you know what? You shouldn’t. You don’t fuckin’ deserve her.”

“And it’s your own fuckin’ fault. I can’t help you out of that one.”

But Santiago knows how hard he just bit.

And the part of him that loves Frankie.

This wrecked shell of a man.

The part of him that doesn’t want to get a call in the morning about an overdose tonight.

Now tries to lick wounds.

He wraps Frankie in a hug.

And Frankie hugs him back with closed fists, heaving sobs into Santiago’s shoulder.

“I love you, man,” Santiago murmurs. “I don’t wanna see you throw away one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. The best thing since your little girl.”

“I don’t know what to do. Without her.”

And Santiago’s viscera twist with the pain in Frankie’s voice.

“We’ll figure it out,” he moves back a fraction, hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Audrey tosses her keys, phone, and a stack of mail on her kitchen island, toeing off her sneakers as she piles her curls at the crown of her head and secures them with the tie on her wrist.

She washes her face and slips into the bedroom, tossing her clothes and bra onto the leather butterfly chair in the corner, swapping linen for the same tired t-shirt she's worn for the past two weeks.

It's one of Frankie's. Found at the bottom of a duffle that never got unpacked in the aftermath. Marled grey cotton that falls halfway down her thighs with a faded Corona Extra logo over her heart.

She idly pulls the collar up over her nose and holds it there as she sifts through the pile of mail.

An L.L. Bean catalogue.

An invitation to her cousin's baby shower.

A padded manila envelope.

From F. Morales.

She tears it open and pulls out a burgundy leather notebook with a yellow post-it stuck to the front.

I’m leaving this with you, because it feels fitting for you to have it. An exercise in remembrance. If you read nothing else. Please just read the last page.  x F

But Audrey’s brain.

The one that’s kept her alive after over 20 years on the razor’s edge of survival. 

Has already identified the worst possible contingency. 

And she frantically gropes for her phone with panic squeezing her chest.

Santiago answers not two seconds later.

“Yo,” he starts.

“Santiago, don’t say a single fucking word that's not an answer to what I ask you right now. Do you know where Francisco is?”

“Yeah, he’s sitting right across from me. All good.”

Fuck.

FUCK.

Her forehead falls into her palm as she heaves a sigh.

“Okay.”

But it comes out very wrong.

Cracked and choked. High-pitched on the last syllable.  

"Okay," she repeats as her legs begin to falter. "Thank you. Thanks, Santi."

And Santiago hears the tremor in her voice.

The raw fracture as she sinks to the floor. Back braced against the cabinets. 

Santiago gets up from the bar table, feeling Frankie’s eyes on him and steps out into a cloud of smoke on the patio.

“Hey, hey, hey, Aud. He’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“He sent—sent me this book and this note and FUCK."

She's hyperventilating now. Now that she's past immediate danger.

Now that the feeling catches up to her.

The fear.

“The…the way he worded this, it. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry for bothering…”

“Hey, Aud no no no. What did he send?”

“A notebook. A note that says I’m leaving this with you.”

“He’s not there, Aud. He’s okay. He’s okay, I promise. He’s not in that space. Benny and Will are here. We’ve got him.”

And he hears the sharp gasp of breath through her constricted throat. The staccato of her letting it out on a sob between beats of her racing heart where everything she’s tamped down rushes out of a crack in the earth.

“He’s clean. He’s not, in that headspace. Not near that point, Audrey,” Santi coos, his own throat tightening now. “He’s okay.” 

The Operative spoke first.

The Woman is speaking now. 

“How.”

And she means how do you know.

How the fuck can you be so sure. 

“We’ve,” Santi clears his throat, “we’ve been through this with Frankie before. Twice. He’s not there.”

“Santi.”

And the tremor in her voice hits him like the first time he saw his dad cry.

“Take care of him. Please. Please take care of him.” 

“Please.”

In the softest voice he's ever heard Audrey use.

And it’s the simplest plea delivered to him as though she were tendering her still-beating heart. 

“I will, Aud. You have my word, I will.”

Santiago hears her let out a broken sigh that’s muffled by a hand over her mouth.

“Thank you, Santi.”

“He’s gonna be okay, Aud.”

The line goes dead.

And Audrey weeps on her kitchen floor.

Until she’s wrung moisture from the marrow of her bones.

She reaches up to grab the little burgundy notebook, thumbing through to the last page.

A date range, a week and a half from today.

And an address in Jamaica.

An address that she knows.

A place where her future split off a new branch. The limb that she’s curled on now.

And she doesn’t know if she has it in her to go there again.

But not knowing what more to do, she flips to a random page.

Had a good day today. Made it down to the gym with Benny and Will. Think I smashed my hands up a bit, but it still felt good after. 

It's a journal.

And she idly realizes she's never really seen Frankie's handwriting before. Composed of tightly wound capitals in places that languidly flow together at the same time.

It suits him.

Another entry.

Saw an old Chevy for sale today and thought about buying it and fixing it up. Part of me wants to. But I don’t think I can right now.

And she flips all the way back to the very beginning. 

Why the fuck am I like this?

The journal spans the nearly three months that they've been apart.

Therapist asked me this afternoon if I’ve talked to her. Told him I haven’t tried and he asked why. I don’t think she’d want to talk to me. But he said that’s a decision I’m making for her. Guess that’s right. Asked what I’d say if she did pick up the phone. I don’t actually know. He said would you try to convince her to come back. And I don’t think I would. Not because I don’t want her back, I want that more than anything in the world. I want a future with her in it.  But I don’t think it’s right to try to convince her. 

He has “convince” underlined twice.

I want to be better. I need to be better first. What’s that shit they say about if your flower bed sucks. You don’t fix the flowers, you fix the soil. You make it a good place for them. I’m not a good place for her right now. But I want to be. I already fucked one good thing up because I wasn’t. I can’t just keep doing the same shit. Not just for her, for Luci to. She deserves a good dad. Audrey deserves a good man. Trying to convince her wouldn’t actually change anything. I guess that’s good to remind myself of.

Chevy’s still there. Talked to the owner, said he’d knock $500 off it for a vet. I’d still give him full asking. Still don’t know if I’m ready. But I hope I’m getting there.

Been thinking about mom and dad a lot lately. That last fight they had before the divorce. How mom just looked so defeated. How she looked at us with so much love. Even after what dad did. Even though her whole world was breaking. Even though we’re half him. How she just told us to get our favorite toy and tucked us into the back of her car with our blankets and never looked back. I remember holding Mr. Bear so tight that night.  I don’t remember ever seeing the bruises. But they had to have been there.  I think I’m dad. The last thing I wanna be is dad. 

Audrey stands briefly, fingers closing around the nearest bottle of wine and the stem of a glass before she returns to the floor and Frankie's notebook.

I keep thinking about that question, what would I say if she picked up the phone. All I can come up with is I’m sorry and I love you. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough. 

Had a dream about Aud last night. We were sitting on a patio watching a storm roll in. It was like I could feel her right there. Today was hard.

She flattens her hand to her heart at that one.

Lucia said today she wants a puppy for Christmas. Her mom definitely doesn’t want a dog in the house. I think a cat’s better since she’s still so young. Tried floating that idea, didn’t fly. Wish I lived closer so she could have a cat at dad’s house. I’d worry about being away so often. Probably on Davis’ shit list right now though so maybe that doesn’t matter. Hadn’t thought about that until now. The last two years doing this set us up pretty well. College and a car for Luci aren’t an issue anymore. Haven’t felt that weight off until now. Feels kind of hollow.

Bought the Chevy. And Santi thinks he’s making progress. Maybe things are starting to look up. Still scares the shit out of me though. Dunno what I’m in for. 

I used to wipe the tears from Mamá's cheeks when she tucked me into bed. What the fuck am I now. This isn’t who I am. It’s who I was taught to be. It’s what I was shown. It’s wrong.  It isn’t love. It’s fear.

Talked to the therapist about dad today. About how I think he always resented me for being more like mom. For not liking the things he did. How he would yell at me for being soft. And useless. I still remember that. Dug that in every time he could. He hated when I cried. Hated that I would spend hours playing with Mr. Bear. Hated that I liked to read. I think some part of me still believes him. That I'm not enough. That I never will be. I'll never be anything. And I fear it sometimes. Why would she want a useless fuck-up like me.

"You're not," Audrey whispers, running her fingers over the page like somehow it will carry her message to him.

I think he was afraid of irrelevance, at the end of the day. I wasn’t interested in anything he knew. Anything he could teach me. Think it made him lash out. And Mamá still got the divorce. Made him fuckin irrelevant anyway.  I think he got one fuckin awful lesson in that I never asked for. Love isn’t lashing out. It isn’t screaming or yelling. It isn’t won with a fist. But I think it fucked me up, seeing only that. I think I learned that from him. I look like him. But I’m not him.

Tears slip down her cheeks as she presses on.

Leaving for Oklahoma tomorrow. Santi’s coming with. Says we’ll have some fun while we’re out there. Part of me is looking forward to it. The other part of me doesn’t know if I’m ready. It’ll either move me forward or set me back. No way of knowing but to try. Because I can't stay here. I can't live like this.

The entries go silent for a week.

Just got back. Needed that time away. Think it helped clear the doubt. Feel better than I have in weeks. It was the right choice. Oklahoma is pretty in the summer. 

And a zing of jealousy for whatever is in Oklahoma shoots through her. 

As if she doesn’t have something of her own there. As if that’s not the first place she ran to. 

I wonder if I should give this to her. If it might be able to say everything that I can’t seem to. Because I know in the moment, if ever there is one, I’m gonna fuck up. I’m gonna look into her eyes and forget everything I want to say. “I’m sorry, I love you” is all I’m gonna have. And it isn’t enough. 

“I love you too, Frankie.” She whispers into her kitchen.

She thumbs the long tails of his “y”s. Lazy “r”s that always bleed into the next letter. 

But it’s the notion that his hands touched these pages. 

Formed these words.

Shed salt upon ink in places.

The way she holds some essence of him in her hands.

The way all she wants is to hold him again.

It’s two hours and three quarters of the bottle of wine gone when she makes her way through, again flipping to the last page. 

Her knees crack as she stands, grabbing her packet of Parliaments and lighting one off a gas burner. Three long draws before she sits back on the floor between her wine and Frankie's journal.

Fingertips reach for the glass of her phone as she opens her messages and taps on the “FM” bubble right at the top of the page.

I’ll be there.

Read 1:36 am.

Three dots appear on the screen.

I can’t wait to see you, Aud. I miss you.

And she doesn’t respond right away.

She can’t see through the tears.

I miss you too, Frankie. 

I miss you so much.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam

@bloviating-vy

And tagging some of the lovely folks who keep me going on here. As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:

@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked

@jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub

@76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @jeewrites

Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted here at Ohforficsake.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: physical abuse #tw: abusive marriage #frankie morales #santiago garcia #ben miller #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the margay

[choimari-achoochu]

Playing... "This Love" by Taylor Swift

"How good can that certain love make you feel so good to the point it's too/down bad?"

Non-idol!Lee Heeseung x F!Reader

Tags : Angst, Hurt, fluff, comfort, NOT PROOFREAD, Reader fell first but Heeseung fell harder<3

"You kissed my cheek, I watched you leave. When you're young you come back to... To what you need. This Love is good, this love is bad. This love is alive back from the dead (oh-oh). These hands had to let it go free, but, this love came back to me. This love, left a permanent mark. This love is glowing in the dark. These hands, had to let it go free, but, this love came back to me."

You never really know where it all went wrong when the time came you and Heeseung had to break up. He was the perfect man. Always soft and caring, patient, he was the epitome of perfection, good looking with a lot of green flags. Being someone who was more than what you asked for, you hardly thought that a time would come where you would be separated from each other. More so, after 4 years of relationship.

You met him during your second year of college, he was in his third year. You had the fattest crush on this basketball player who aced every single class he took. So of course, you approached him. He was reluctant to even respond to you at first, but warmed up to your cheery personality sooner or later. Or maybe, too soon. You experienced love at first sight, but he slowly fell for you as time went on with the both of you hanging out.

He found you pretty cute, very cheery and bubbly. Your aura always radiates a sense of warmth that infects the whole room, the whole building if not. He was attracted to how your cheeks flush everytime you see him, how a shy smile always creeps to your face when he winks at you during a game, how your smile and laughs absolutely make his day.

You were what he considered constant happiness in his day-to-day routine. Sometimes when he wakes up in your dorm room after a movie night sleepover, his heart always swells with gratefulness and love when there, laying beside him on the bed, was your body presses against the sheets in a deep but peaceful slumber. He loved you so much to even ever think about being separated with your absolutely pure soul.

Yet, there in his dread, he's standing before your figure on your doorstep. His hands trembling and anxiously tapping his thighs as he gulps, not knowing what to say. When all of his academic pressure was weighing on his shoulder to the point he pushed you away, does he really deserve a second chance? You're not sure yourself.

"What are you doing here, Hee?" You asked with spite but pain at the same time.

"I-..." He paused. He wasn't trying to find what words to say, no. He was trying find the words to associate right after "...sorry...". But what should he say? "I'm sorry, I hurt you because I was too occupied with my own problems" ? Or was it "I'm sorry, I had to prioritize myself over our relationship and your feelings because I had "unintentionally" hurt you due to the fact I had assignments and projects to pass that led to me irrationally blurting out the words 'Let's break up'... " ?

"I don't know, Y/N, fuck..." He ran a hand through his hair and slightly pulled on a few strands.

You both know what he wants to say but you both take for granted the silence between the two of you, no matter how uncomfortable it may seem due to the tension.

However, he broke the seconds of silence with a sharp inhale and spoke again. "I'm so fucking sorry and regretful of the things I've done that I just— I don't even know how to start saying that sort of shit without thinking about how stupid it is. How stupid my actions were, how stupid it is for me to even seek for you after what I've done... " He stalls as tears well up in his eyes as he, with all the courage he has, looks into your eyes. You don't know if the pain and love you still absolutely have for him and from him seeps through the cracks of your broken hearts with the way he's trembling.

"...But I'm so fucking sorry. " He breathes out, a feeling of relief washing over him as he finally let every thought and emotion out of his chest. The only thing that remained was the feeling of dread that was to come after you reject his apology. You would definitely do that after all those stunts he pulled during your relationship—

"I forgive you." You say as you take your eyes off him, letting him process what you said without the burden of thinking you don't mean it. But as you break eye contact, his eyes go wide in surprise, an ineffable feeling washing over him as he thinks his ears are betraying him. So he asks...

"What?" He mutters but loud enough for you to hear.

"I said, I forgive you." You fiddle with your fingers as you answer him. "Also, it's not stupid."

"Huh?" He tilts his head in confusion, he feels he's too broken to even be able to think properly.

"It's not stupid to apologize. And I absolutely understand how you prioritized your studies above our relationship—"

"No, Y/N. Baby, that wasn't okay." He cuts you off.

"Yes, sometimes those sort of things can get in the of our relationship because, as students who want good grades, we have to put it first rather than our relationship. But that doesn't mean outburts are reasonable just because of all the academic stress. I'm happy that you forgive me, but please never seek for something less than what you deserve from me, Love." He reaches to meet your hand with his trembling ones for him to hold, he slowly lifts it up to his mouth and kisses the back of your hand.

Tears stream down your face as the raw emotions you've felt from the past week comes rushing back to you. All the pain, the misunderstandings that made you confused, the loneliness... Everything was too much to bear all st the same time.

"I'm sorry, too, Heeseung." He said in between sobs and he pulls you to his chest, wrapping you in his warm and comforting embrace.

"Don't say sorry. There's nothing for you to apologize for. I was in the wrong..." He mumbles sweet comforting word, but are still coherent enough for you to understand, as he kisses the top of your head.

"No, no..." You protested and shook your head. "I'm sorry for not being understanding and still being clingy. I should have been more mature." You sniffle as the words almost seem like queit mumbles, but Heeseung understands. He always does. How much you doubt yourself. It breaks him to be one of the cause for the cacophony of your negative thoughts to be the only thing you hear because of his actions. He softly runs a hand through your back as he sighs.

"Shhh, baby... You did nothing wrong. I wish I could have done better for you, but I'm here to do right now. Will you please give me a chance to make things right between us?" He pulls away, but his hands are still firm on your waist. He stares at your face.

He kisses your cheek and asks again, "Hmm? Please, Love?"

The moment you give him a soft nod, he wraps you back into arms once again and heaves a sigh of relief. He is never gonna lose you again. No, never. The week where he had to be away from the warmth you brought into his light was enough for him to suffer in darkness, all alone... He doesn't want that again. For the both of you. He doesn't wanna hurt you anymore, don't want to leave you all alone again, and you want the same thing. To never be away from his calming and comforting presence that he brings due to his love for you.

"Please never push me away again."

"I won't. I never will. Not again, never in the lifetimes where I have your love with me."

@strxwbloody

#lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic

[minimallyminnie]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐥

❆ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞?

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼: Arguing, spoilers for chapter 4 of Love and Deepspace, platonic or romantic, gn reader, grief, you lash out at Zayne, hurt/little comfort, heart pain (y’know due to MC’s condition in the game.), bittersweet ending.

Aahh I just hated how Zayne was acting and how Mc was acting and I just combusted and made this

“Diseases and accidents are inevitable. Some leave this world whether they want to or not.”

Oh the way that you wanted to smile at that. It’s usually how Zayne acted after all; he really did attempt to cheer you up.

But you couldn’t find the words for some reason. The past few days have been a complete disaster for you.

After all, seeing the man you adored and been close to since you two were children and your beloved grandmother who took care of you die was…awful.

But what’s more infuriating?

Hearing someone who was basically family to you and your family just not show his concern. Zayne knew what you were going through. How important and close they were. How Caleb loved to protect those who couldn’t, how his favorite ice cream flavor was mint chocolate, how his hugs were the best. How grandma made the best cookies, how she lit up a room with her words, how she supported anyone and anything no matter what, he knew.

And he didn’t say nothing.

Your shoulders trembled. Hands curling into fists as you held the box your grandmother wanted to give you. Would’ve. Your back faced Zayne’s. It didn’t matter, he always kept you at a distance. Kept the family at a distance. All you wanted was to be with everyone again.

“[Reader]? Is there another thing you forgot to mention? You’re trembling.”

Your last string that hung onto your tears, anger, fury, pain, confusion, everything…snapped. It recoiled so hard, you swore you could’ve felt the whip marks on your heart.

“Screw you Zayne.” You spat out with venom. How could he? How couldn’t he understand?!

In the corner of your eye, you could see him slightly flinch. He was caught off guard with your words.

“[Reader]?”

“You don’t even show that you cared! You didn’t give a damn! Caleb and Grandma loved you! Caleb and I were the ones to talk to you first! Get your out of your shell when we were kids and you say shit!”

It was almost comedic with how his eyes were actually wide and surprise for once.

“I—“

“No! Don’t make those silly “emotions are not recommended in this field” speeches o-or tell me to calm down!” You made no attempt to wipe your tears, even if it felt like poison.

“Zayne, I watched them die. I watched them! I could’ve held Caleb back, maybe save him but I let him go! Now both of them are gone and-and you tell me it’s inevitable? Oh fuck you! You know what Caleb and Grandma wanted last time we ate together?”

You remember it. Sitting besides Caleb and bickering about something small while grandma laughed at the two of you.

“Do you both know who’d be here just sitting quietly while eating everything but his carrots?”

You looked to purple eyes, always filled with fondness and stars and grinned at each other.

“Zayne!”

“Haha, he should really accept our invites y’know?”

Laughing, you both continued to eat your food; grandma laughed amused by her children. They had grown up so fast, and she wanted to see how the shy and timid child she’d seen and missed for years had been doing.

You held your chest, almost feeling your heart spike in pain from the overwhelming emotions.

“They wanted you. To simply just have one meal. You could stay for thirty minutes, ten even, but do you know what they really wanted to see even if you didn’t come? They wanted to see if you were doing okay. Just that.”

Your voice had broken off somewhere near the end, but you didn’t care. It was true after all. Damn it.

“You didn’t come. Zayne, we asked and you always said you were busy. Which was okay but every time…?” Your voice had gone into a whisper. Hurt and grief filling your words.

Sliding down, you let your tears run and finally tried to wipe them off your cheeks and hide your face with the box.

The grief slid into your heart again. Taking and taking. Your family was gone. The ones you wanted to protect. Gone. A large chunk of your heart was gone. The house you grew up in, the homemade food, comfort, hugs, and teasing remarks you’d grown used to.

Gone in five seconds.

Then, you felt cold arms around you, holding you close and your head on a broad shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

More tears and you hugged him tighter almost choking him.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I-I could’ve saved Caleb.”

“You couldn’t have.”

Your tears leaked into his lab coat, and your hands clutched his coat so hard, it’d probably be wrinkled later.

“W-we could’ve had…had one last meal together Zayne. Like we did when we were kids getting cuts and getting popsicles from the grocery store nearby during summer.”

In your midst of your tears and mourning, you swore you felt something wet on your shoulder too. It didn’t matter anyways.

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.”

“It’s okay. I know.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

His heart twisted and burned. He knew he couldn’t say them but Zayne wanted to hear them. The three words he didn’t deserve.

“I….” Your words cut off and was replaced with a choked sob.

For the two most important people who wouldn’t see you grow up.

Caleb come back when??? Thank you for reading!!!

#ミミ☆ #love and deepspace x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #Zayne x male reader #Zayne x female reader #Zayne x gn reader #love and deepspace Zayne x reader

[ronearoundblindly]

I’m feeling angsty 😈

For F.R.I Steve can I get

6. How do they make up/apologize after an argument?

18. How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick

And 40. Do they have any regrets in their relationship

Question are from this ask game and for the Fools Rush In series with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

Angst? You want angst, you say? I shall endeavor to deliver...

*This series deals with mature and/or sexual themes not suitable for all-ages, and these drabble-answers are no exception! Also, sorry this took forever.

6

Well, there was that time when you called Steve a 'himbo,' or when Steve was repelled by the smell of a lab accident, or when you finally snap at too many classified secrets stacked between you and Steve. You have arguments, but not all of them are knock-down drag-outs.

It's important that you two do talk in order to come to an understanding of what is truly wrong or upsetting because, as we all know, sometimes neither of you starts off by saying exactly that.

Time together alone is critical. You two are not public in almost any sense of the word, so you are skilled is setting whatever feelings there are aside until you can openly speak. Being alone sometimes still means being physically separate. Touching can be distracting and avoids the crux of the issue (usually, except the first like half a year you dated, whoops), so sorting through your feelings and putting them into words may take a while but ends up best.

There have been arguments that even take alone-alone time, where you two have some space before coming together again. It's rare, but when frustrations run really high, Steve is not a fan of that energy bleeding into physical touch or everyday tasks. He hates associating any negativity with you. (You're human. He knows that. So is he. Just...no more than absolutely necessary.)

After all that--and only after all that is worked out--Steve and you are very tender to each other. You ease back into each other. Proximity is intimacy. Steve favorite small gesture is to put his arm over you while you two read on the couch. Yours is to tuck him to your chest as you fall asleep.

It's devastating to you that Steve censors his own future.

We all like to imagine the good in our lives lasting forever, and Steve does that, too. He simply...doesn't imagine ever getting any more of you than he does now. He doesn't think to expect that part of you two together ever evolves because that would be somehow demanding...anything. He feels ungrateful for how far you've come, and that is so much more than he ever hoped to have.

Thus, he censors what he could want and expect from you. Happy homecomings, enthusiastic reunions, intense and escalating sexual relations (yes, I know that sounds clinical, but that's how his brain thinks of these things) are, each time, welcome events. He refuses to explore his desires. Steve guilts himself into being grateful and that's it.

I mention this in conjunction with arguments and making up because it's not something you can be angry at other than it's a shame he cannot incorporate his physical satisfaction with general life.

(That gets explored in 'Not A Perfect Soldier But A Good Man,' a sex pollen exposure that breaks down Steve's defenses around that.)

18

Ack, ok, wounds are...yikes. Steve fusses an unbelievable amount, even if only internally. He will plan out like six levels of 'how much to help' as you recover from something. If he is the one who got hurt (because he doesn't get sick, nope, never), then just ignore it; he'll be fine in no time. The serum is the serum is the serum. He has no business needing to be taken care of.

Bullocks.

Obviously, Steve is completely full of shit on this subject.

Once you get past his guarded dismissal, he needs tender, loving care. Steve needs reminding that not only is he still human but that being human is enough, even if he heals quickly.

In all honestly, his worst wounds are psychological. Those take patience and encouragement to speak openly.

Though unrealistic about his own health needs, Steve is (usually) thorough in his focus on your healing. At first, in the very early days, he had to be subtle, like when you hurt your hand...twice, and he's been fine accessing your mental health needs since the beginning. Seriously that's...pretty much the whole setup to this series...

There are times--adjacent to the heat of battle, let's say--when Steve does default to trusting your own strength while he continues to handle something urgent. You're an adult; he doesn't baby you. He's just gentle and as doting as possible when you two have time to be alone.

There are ongoing snippy-convos, not arguments, about taking medications for various things. He isn't fond of you dismissing your own pain--ex: you have a headache but won't take a pill--but respects your choice to treat your body how you wish. (Healthy, though, because ((and he will use this language)) he won't fucking stand for disordered eating to control your appearance. Media can fuck off in this regard.)

40

No deep-seated regrets, no. There's little things, things you both wish you'd gotten over faster or learned earlier, but all-in-all, everything that happens to you and in your relationship happens for a reason and exactly when it's supposed to happen. Lord knows, the excitement and the sorrow of the life of an Avenger leaves very little desire to spice up your world much more.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers headcanon

[loveandpeaceanddoughtnuts]

Last Rites

a Vashwood fanfic, cross-posted on ao3

"What is wrong with you, blondie?" Wolfwood hit the brick wall with a closed fist, hissing as his knuckles split. "They don't give a damn about you! Whether you live or die!"

Vash stumbled, shifting his weight against the same wall as he cradled his right side. "That doesn't matter." 

"Like hell it doesn't matter!"

Vash flinched at the other man's intensity. The weak smile he offered Wolfwood slid sideways off his face with a new wave of pain. "You know how I feel, Wolfwood."

The undertaker shook his head in frustration. "Wish I did."

Vash's knees buckled, and he slid further down the wall. Wolfwood threw a strong arm around his shoulders before he hit the ground.

"Hey, easy, needle-noggin. Easy." Wolfwood's voice was soft gravel and warm gunmetal. "You don't get to die before I convince you you're a damn fool."

Vash blinked up at him, glassy-eyed. "Die?" He huffed a shaky breath. "You know I can't do that."

"So you say." Wolfwood didn't meet Vash's gaze as he rifled through his bag for first aid supplies. "Where's that damn gauze?"

"The bullet just grazed me. I've had worse, Wolfwood."

"Really? Because you're usually a drama queen and now you're actin' all tough. Got me scared as shit."

"Look at me, Wolfwood."

"No, damn it! We gotta get you patched up."

"Look at me!" Vash's jaw clenched with effort as he reached up to drag Wolfwood down by the collar. Wolfwood dragged his eyes down to Vash, his heart clenching as he took in the gunslinger's bloodless face. Vash didn't let go of his collar but kept pulling the man lower until they were nose to nose.

"You don't have to believe in me. But I'm not gonna let yourself get killed for me either. Nobody else gets hurt." Vash tried another smile, this one lasting a little longer before it trembled away.

"Believin' in you was never the problem, blondie." Wolfwood's mouth went dry this close to Vash. His eyes flicked from the Stampede's bright blue eyes to his tight-pressed lips. "Let me help you."

Vash's hand weakened and Wolfwood took the chance to pull gently out of his grip. "We gotta get this bullet outta you. You can argue with me later." He cautiously reached a hand down to the hem of Vash's tight black top. "Can I?"  Vash's eyes had fluttered shut, but he gave enough of a nod that Wolfwood kept going.

"This isn't how I wanted this to happen," he mumbled, carefully lifting the shirt over Vash's head as he searched for the bullet wound. "Fucking hell," Wolfwood swore. Vash's muscled torso was a patchwork of thick scars and metal grates, as if he had been taken apart and put back together over and over again. The undertaker's breath left him like a punch to the stomach. "What happened to you?"

Vash groaned and tried to curl around himself protectively. “N-nothing. ‘M fine, don’t look…”

“Oh, Vash…” Wolfwood couldn’t stop himself from gently running his calloused fingertips over the longest scar, a raised and jagged line that traced his ribs. Vash flinched and Wolfwood instantly removed his hand, cursing himself for the slip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just…I don’t like people to see me. Like this.” Vash’s words were sharp-edged with pain. “Especially people I- especially you.”

Wolfwood’s dark eyebrows knit together as he shushed the other man. He couldn’t know how wrong he was. Vash’s body was an alien landscape, and Wolfwood longed to map every inch of unexplored territory. “Don’t be ridiculous, blondie.” His voice dropped, ragged with the raw edges of the truth. “You’re beautiful.”

Vash laughed, but the normally musical sound was out of tune. “Don’t feel bad for me, Wolfwood. Doesn’t suit you.” He shook with the effort of speaking, and it didn’t escape Wolfwood’s notice.

“I feel bad for you ‘cause you’ve got such a spiky head, needle-noggin. But you’re fucking beautiful.”

The blonde opened his mouth to reply but was wracked by a cough. Bright blood dribbled over his lips, and his jaw went slack. 

“Vash?” Wolfwood grabbed his shoulder and shook hard. “Vash!” He swore and frantically tore apart his bag until he came up with bandages. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He couldn’t tell whether the reassurances were for himself or the other man. Wolfwood tore a strip of bandages with his teeth, his eyes locking on a seep of sticky blood from underneath Vash’s body.

“Alright Typhoon, you’re gonna hold on for me.” Wolfwood turned him over quickly, steeling himself to the task at hand. “This is gonna fuckin’ hurt.” He ripped his flask from his pack and dumped stinging liquor over his hands, sterilizing them as best as he could. “I’ll make this up to you, okay? I swear to God, if He gives a shit.”

The undertaker took a deep breath and plunged his finger into the wound on Vash’s back, carefully feeling for the bullet lodged inside. He whispered apologies as Vash moaned in pain, his body still limp on the ground. The moans trickled to whimpers, and slowed entirely. In the silence, Wolfwood grew more desperate, no strength left to spend on his self-censoring.

“C’mon, baby. C’mon Vash, you stupid pretty thing, hang on f’me.” He gritted his teeth when he brushed against the warm metal, crooking his finger to pull the bullet out without causing too much extra damage. Wolfwood was numb everywhere except the places where his skin touched Vash’s. Those places burned like stars. “You’re doin’ so good, love. Stay here with me. I have so much to tell you if you stay here,” he murmured. 

Wolfwood reached for the liquor and took a hard swig from the bottle, swallowing with a wince. The rest he poured onto Vash’s wound, shakily brushing his hand over the blonde’s hair as the pain made him thrash. “I’m sorry, so sorry…your hair is so soft…softer than I even imagined,” Wolfwood whispered, a little hysterical. “I’ll tell ya so if you wake up after this, okay needle-noggin? Maybe I won’t even call ya that anymore.” 

“Forgive me for this, okay?” Wolfwood pressed clean bandages against the gunshot wound, a half-remembered prayer falling from his lips as Vash let out a strangled cry. “Almost done, almost done, love.” His eyes burned. “Why do you care about these people so goddamn much?” He leaned harder on the wound, willing the blood loss to slow. “What about the people who care about you? ” Vash’s blood soaked through the first fistful of bandages, and Wolfwood added a second. 

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep losing you.” Vash’s blood covered his hands, and Wolfwood swallowed down bile. “Fuck you, blondie. Fuck you for leavin' me alone again.” He was leaning his whole weight on the wound now, praying the bandages would be enough to hold Vash’s life in.

“You goddamn bleeding heart, you aren’t on your own anymore! This isn’t fair!” Wolfwood was crying, sick at himself. He didn’t even know he could still produce tears, and now he was on his knees next to the only person that would ever matter enough to wring them out of him. Vash’s eyes stayed shut, his body still and soft except for the tension in his jaw and the throb of his pulse in his neck. 

Wolfwood bent over him like a guardian angel. He turned Vash back over as the bleeding slowed and tenderly wiped the blood from his mouth. He pressed a heavy palm to the metal grate over Vash’s heart. “I love you, Vash. It scares me to death and I still love you. I can’t help it.” A bitter smile flickered over his face. “I’ve tried. Just get through this for me and I’ll tell you myself, okay?"

Suddenly out of things to do, Wolfwood collapsed back against the wall. His hands shook so badly that it took him three tries to get his lighter going, and he dropped the first cigarette he held to the flame. When it finally took, he sucked the smoke into his lungs like a penance and held it till he choked. That way, he had a reason for his voice to crack and his eyes to burn as he whispered, “Vash, please.”

#vashwood #ao3 #fanfic #love confessions #hurt/no comfort #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #they both need a hug #i need them both