#okay this sounds really angsty but I swear I mostly made her for like five jokes I could make while describing her character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 04

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initally reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.4k

↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs | smut w/ premature ejaculation lol | there’s a DUI (don’t yell at me these are the laws where i live) | angsty people being messy

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

Namjoon has become a semi-permanent feature around the apartment lately. It's a good thing, even if at times there's an awkward passing of each other in the hallway or moments of slightly uncomfortable silence.

There's been no apologies exchanged between the two of you since whatever that was one month ago in Hyerin's living room. Not that you wanted to give one or particularly receive one, but you would settle for the stiff politeness you exchange for Hyerin's benefit. He was meeting you halfway, effort equal to yours.

Not much else had changed in those thirty days, aside from your renewed contact with Jimin. It's tentative, hesitant, almost shy even like you don't know each other as well as you do but it's truly a welcome intrusion into your days. Perhaps Jimin's slowness is because he doesn't want to scare you away again.

The topic of Jungkook has yet to come up. You feel as if it's inevitable and dread it.

Jungkook is on your mind nearly daily, whether you like it or not. Since the night Hyerin had told you he was in one of the most inebriated states of his life he had barely been in contact with any one of his regular group of friends, occasionally you'd hear dribbles from Hyerin that he was okay but you were familiar with this pattern. You were worried. An underlying sense of doom twisted your insides whenever his face appeared in your thoughts.

You're not made of stone, even if you wish you were. Two years of affection don't vanish in the blink of an eye, and you always will want him to be happy. He might be telling his friends he's doing (and Hyerin quoted) fucking amazingly right now, but you know that's a lie he's telling himself.

When you see Hyerin for the first time that day you practically all but squeal with excitement, her tiny bump protrudes her slim figure now, nearly five months gone. It's been a few days since you'd last seen her in person and you swear she's grown already. She walks slowly into your shared place after staying with Namjoon for the last few days. He follows behind her.

The first thing you do is bombard her in the doorway, hands instantly going straight to her bump. "God y/n, you're obsessed." She laughs, playfully annoyed but her hand joins yours when there's a flutter as the baby rolls as you coo.

"I swear you've literally grown in the last 5 or whatever days." You tell her, marvelling at her stomach. It's the first time a close friend of yours has been with child and keeping up with her progress has been exciting.

"Well, all we mostly did was eat, didn't we?." She looks to Namjoon who nods silently. "That might be me growing, not baby."

They come inside and you make yourself scarce, disappearing to your own room to give them some space, and well, avoid Namjoon.

Lately much of your time has been spent looking for graduate work. It's unfulfilling and you've yet to find anything substantial but it keeps you occupied. You sit at your laptop and scroll endlessly. Eventually your eyes start to burn and water with the strain of staring at a bright screen to long, followed by an accompanying rumble of your stomach, which means it's definitely time for a break.

You open your bedroom door and listen for a few minutes. It's silent which means you'll likely be undisturbed. The faint sound of a television can be heard but you're sure it must be the one in Hyerin's room, so you head to the kitchen.

As you pass the living area you see Hyerin sleeping on the sofa, head resting on Namjoon's shoulder while his arm drapes lazily over her. You can only see the back of his head so you have no idea if he is awake or not. You don't hang around to find out.

The kitchen is pretty bare these days since your roommate has entered the nausea phase of her pregnancy and is still deciding what makes her sick and what doesn't. You settle for toast. It's not exciting but it's quick.

"Y/n?"

You look to the sound of your name, surprised to find Namjoon standing behind you. He looks as uncomfortable as you feel. "Hey..." You saw slowly. You sound awkward trying to pretend to be chill. "Um. Do you want some food?"

"No." He says. "Thanks."

The silence hangs like a lead weight. You silently scream at him just go away, neither of us wants this!

"I wanted to," He begins. Then coughs. You wait. His eyes look at anything but you when he tries again. "I wanted to apologise to you."

Oh. You're not sure if this is much better than the awkward silence. "That's alright, honestly." You dismiss.

"It isn't. I've been thinking a lot about what you said." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. You feel like you're on a hidden camera show or something. You've never seen him act like this before. He's practically shy at this point. "About this baby not wanting me."

"Namjoon," You sigh. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I was just upset and feeling protective about my friend."

"No, that's not what I mean." He shakes his head. "You did mean it. But it's okay, I fuckin' need to hear it."

You just stare silently at him.

"I mean, you could have said it a bit more kindly." He jokes, trying to relieve the tension. You offer him a small smile. "The sentiment was true, and I had never thought about it like that until you laid that truth bomb on me."

"Oh." You hear yourself say.

"I had a dad who didn't give a fuck about me, y'know?" He scratches the back of his neck and looks away. You could swear he was blushing. "Didn't want me and bailed on mom the second he could. If he were to come into my life now, I'd tell him to get lost. Hated that guy my whole life, yknow. I don't want a kid to feel that way about me, ever. Wasting their entire life resenting me." He takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say thanks, I guess."

You guess your words were part of the impact on the recent change in his behaviour. You hadn't intended them to be but you're glad they did. The toast you were making pops and both you and Namjoon jump a little.

"You don't have to thank me." You leave the bread where it is. "I'm sorry I was so rude about it."

"I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

"I kind of was."

You both laugh a little. Tension relieves slightly and the awkwardness isn't as palpable anymore.

"Things are going well," He states, referring to Hyerin. "I don't know what's going to happen with me and her, but I'll be here for that kid no matter what, which I guess is the important thing."

"This might sound insincere and I promise it isn't, but I think that's really honourable of you Namjoon."

He shrugs the compliment off, but looks a little happy nonetheless. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your food."

Just as he's about to leave you want to take advantage of the moment and ask about Jungkook. You call out to him and he freezes looking at you expectantly. You almost bottle it and lose your nerve. "Is...is Jungkook okay?"

His entire face changes, expression unreadable. "He's alive, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean."

"Y/n," He lets out a long breath. "No. No he's not okay."

"Is there anything I can do?" God, you feel so guilty and so helpless.

"I don't think there's anything any of us can do right now." Namjoon says sadly. "You can't help someone who won't help themselves."

On that note, he leaves the room.

***

The latest job interview feels like it went well, but so did the last three. You don't pin any hope on it as you walk to the subway, portfolio under one arm, empty paper coffee cup in the other. It gets tossed in the bin at the station. You learned your lesson the first few times; don't get too excited. Although it's hard not to when you want something so badly and it feels within your grasp.

At this point you don't mind working for free, you still have your job at the restaurant. Some money for your hard earned degree wouldn't be unwelcome however.

You sit on the platform waiting for your train, feeling uncomfortable in your outfit. It's very corporate - heels, pencil skirt, blouse. Not very you at all but the interviews require it. According to the electronic information board your train will be here in 4 minutes. Your leg shakes impatiently.

You happen to turn your head at the exact moment Jimin steps on to the platform. His painting studio is nearby which you conveniently forgot, it makes sense for him to be here. You're the one on strange territory, not him. Still, it's a shock to the system. It's been three months since you've seen him in person. His hair is darker, the sandy blonde gone and he's a little leaner; but it's Jimin.

He spots you and slows down momentarily. He's as surprised as you are.

"Hey." He breathes when he reaches you.

"Hi." You smile.

He gestures to your portfolio with a nod of his head. "How'd it go?" Earlier you'd told him through text your plan for that day.

"We'll see." You say as you shrug. "I don't want to get my hopes up."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it went well." He assures with a warm smile. You think he looks as good as ever. "Are you headed home?"

"Yeah." You say. "I can't wait to get out of these clothes. I'm done being secretary barbie for today."

Jimin laughs. "I kind of like it." You give him a sceptical look. "What?" He grins, shooting his best innocent glance. You shake your head. "Listen, y/n, do you want to grab a cup of coffee?"

"Now?"

He nods.

You have nothing better to do, so you agree.

***

It's not strange being with Jimin like this. Which is strange in itself. You anticipated some awkward tension after so many things were unsaid, uncertain and unclear but there was none. He was just Jimin. The same sweet, kind man you'd met two years ago, let into your bed and then proceeded to break his heart. You're not sure if he's selfless or just a glutton for punishment.

He tells you work is great, better than it's ever been which makes you happy. He's talented so it's not a shock but a welcome surprise. He's recently moved to a bigger apartment that he loves. He even thinks he's ready for a pet, although you're sure that last part is said slightly in jest.

You fill him in a little more on your life, texts exchanged you can only say so much. Jimin gets an update on Hyerin which makes him smile. You tell him about Namjoon - the argument and subsequent apology. The only topic left is Jungkook. It feels like Jimin senses it too because a tension seems to form.

"So..." He says.

"So." You mimic.

He licks his lips. "How is everything...else? Are you still single?"

"Yes, I am." You almost want to laugh at the way he asks the question.

"Me too."

"Are you prying about Jungkook?" You tease.

"Kinda." He laughs. "I didn't know how to bring it up since we were having a good time."

"It's ok." You offer him an encouraging smile. "I haven't seen or heard from him. You?"

"Actually yeah." says Jimin. You raise a brow in surprise. That was unexpected. "A few texts here and there that are erratic to say the least. Sometimes he hates me, sometimes he's sorry. It's kind of worrying actually."

"Namjoon kind of alluded to the same sort of thing. He's worried too."

Jimin nods solemnly. "I always try to reply as best I can, just so if something - touch wood - bad, happens Jungkook knows that door of communication is still open. But he never really responds to me. Just texted more incoherent thoughts." He lets out a long sigh. "Even though we were both shitty friends to each other, I've known him too many years. I have to be there for him no matter what."

A few moments of contemplative silence pass. The coffee shop is rather quiet at the moment, the only other people in the small cafe is a teenager, nose buried in a laptop and a couple in the corner. The boy has shaggy black hair, and is holding onto his girl like she's a prized possession. Sadly, it reminds you of Jungkook during happier times, he always was a little possessive but in a charming way that made your heart swell when you saw him.

You're not entirely sure what to make of the information you've just received. At the very, very, very least, you're glad that Jimin is still there for his friend regardless.

"In spite of all that I'm glad we ran into each other today." You say as lightly as possible. It makes Jimin smile.

"I am also. I've wanted to ask you to meet up so many times but I knew you wanted space." He blushes a little. "I'm glad fate intervened."

"I think it was better this way, actually."

You finish your coffees and Jimin walks you home. His arm occasionally brushes against yours as you walk. When you reach your building the two of you pause in front of it. You wonder if he's going to kiss you and it makes your heart thud wildly. The jury's still out on whether you even want that or not.

"Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem."

He stares at you for a beat. "Can we do this again?"

"Coffee? Uh sure." You reply, slightly confused. He shakes his head.

"No. Or yeah, whatever you want. I just want to see you again. Maybe...like a date?" He gives you such a hopeful yet promising look that's so endearing it almost physically hurts. You open your mouth to reply and as if he anticipates that your about to refuse him he hurries out, "We can take it really slow. No pressure. Just spending time together."

"Alright," You agree, softening. "I'd like that."

Jimin leaves, looking as if he just won a prize of his own.

***

You smile as you remove your jacket and shoes at the front door, mind still entirely occupied with thoughts of Jimin. Your quickly brought back to earth by the voices of Namjoon and Hyerin. At first glance it doesn't appear as if they're arguing but one look at Hyerin's face and you can see something is most definitely up.

"Hey..." You begin cautiously, looking between them.

"Hi." Hyerin strains a smile. "I expected you much earlier. How'd it go?"

She means the interview. "Good I think." You look hesitantly at Namjoon. "I ended up bumping into Jimin, actually."

You wait for judgement to pass across his face but he remains stoically blank. Thank god.

"Oh," Hyerin seems surprised. "Ok."

"What's going on? There's a weird mood in here guys." You ask after a tense moment and silence.

"Jungkook." Namjoon answers with a sigh. You tense immediately.

"What's happened?" You ask, fearing the worst.

Namjoon shakes his head. "He keeps showing up to recording sessions drunk. Or worse. I'm worried."

You're worried too.

***

Inexplicably, the first official date with Jimin is a little awkward. Which is odd, because the accidental crossing of paths a week earlier wasn't in the slightest. Maybe it's because it's officially labelled as a date now, you don't know. Either way, you know he feels it too, stretched silences drawing on a little too long between you.

At the end of the night you allow him to kiss you. It's brief but familiar. You knew you missed the physical side of a romantic relationship but kissing him showed you just how much. As you lay in bed that night, the sensation of the kiss not entirely gone yet, you have to sternly remind yourself that you're taking it slow. You're too used to giving into your desires when you're around him.

The second date is far better, both of you overcome whatever hurdle caused the uncomfortableness in the first one. Jimin treats you to an over priced but amazing meal at a top end restaurant. It feels so grown up, you're not used to dates like this. Jungkook was the first real boyfriend you'd ever had, and his dating style was a lot more casual.

You never exactly had an official first date with Jungkook. Most of the time you spent together involved getting naked together in his apartment enough times that you became a couple. Sure, you went out together but it was mostly to parties or bars. That's just who he was and you accepted that.

The third date Jimin brings you to his art studio. It's an unusual setting for a date, but you go along with it when Jimin promises there's a surprise in store. His eyes twinkle and you can't help but feel a little excitement spark in you. It's an intimate, private piece of him to share with you and it feels special. Different.

His studio is where he does his creating. It's a reasonably large white space that's littered with paint splashes, tarp that protects most of the floor, and works in progress propped up on easels. Although Jimin looks out of place now dressed smartly in slacks and a button up shirt, you can completely imagine him hard at work in here.

"Stop being so coy," You whine impatiently and Jimin chuckles as he strides determinedly across the vast space. You watch, unsure what you're allowed to touch or not touch. "I like surprises but I'm too impatient for the suspense."

"Well, you're just going to have to deal with it." He informs you, before disappearing inside a door on the opposite side of the room.

You gaze around the room as you wait for him to return, absorbing all the visible artwork. There's a lot of rustling before the sound of a crash resonates and Jimin swears.

He truly is talented. No wonder he's been so successful as of late. Your eyes land on a particular work. It's a brightly coloured butterfly, except it's done in watercolour and he's allowed the rainbow paint to drip and run down the canvas. It's beautiful and you wonder why he hasn't sold it yet. An egotistical part of you speculates that it might be inspired by you, given the affectionate nickname he has for you.

When Jimin returns he's holding a canvas against his body but the painted side is facing away from you. You wonder what on earth he's up to.

"Sit." He instructs, pointing to the chrome stool at his desk. You give him a puzzled look but comply anyway. "Close your eyes."

"Jimin - "

"Shush. Now close your eyes."

You sigh and do as he asked, clasping your hands in your lap whilst simultaneously feeling a little ridiculous. There's some shuffling and scraping of metal on the floor and even with your eyes closed you can sense that he's switched some of the lights off. "What are you up to Jiminie?" You ponder aloud.

"You'll see."

You sense some movement behind you and you can tell Jimin is close to you. His hands rest on your shoulders as he leans down to whisper, hot breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. "Okay. Open your eyes butterfly."

You're met with an image that sucks the air out of your lungs. It's you. Jimin has painted you.

Except it's not you. Not regular, every day, flesh and blood you. Painting you is bold and vibrant, he's captured you in a way you've never viewed yourself. The image is clearly based on your face, except you appear more like some mythical fairy. There's flowers woven into your flowing hair that's much longer than yours, covering your naked chest. The only colours on the canvas are red and some pink.

"Jimin..." You begin, attempting to search for the right words that convey just how overwhelmed you feel. His eyes bore into you expectantly. "This is incredible. You're so talented! It's me right?"

He laughs. "Of course its you."

"You made me look beautiful, I almost didn't recognise myself." You admit, blushing. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Why did you paint this?"

"You've kind of been a muse to me for a while now." He confesses.

"A muse? Me?"

He nods. "Yeah...it's kind of embarrassing. Ever since the first time we met you've always been a source of inspiration. So thank you, I guess."

"Why me?" You blurt. "I'm just so ordinary, I wish I looked like this." You gesture to the canvas.

"It's more than just how you look, you know. You're beautiful, of course, but you're strong and tough yet still somehow soft enough to be kind, even when people don't deserve it. Not all strong people have that in them y/n but you do."

"I don't know what to say." You whisper, swivelling round to face him.

"That's why I chose the colours I did. Red for the passion and fire within you, and pink because you're sensitive and compassionate. I felt that it suited you."

"I don't deserve you, Park Jimin." You tell him as you pull him in for a kiss. "You might be the sweetest boy I've ever met."

"You do deserve me."

He kisses you fiercely, cupping your face with his hands. The angle is a bit uncomfortable as you're still sitting whilst he's standing but you don't care. The rush of affection you feel for him right now is the only thing on your mind.

"I love the painting." You breathe against his lips. "Thank you."

You separate, albeit reluctantly but he locks your hands together. "This is my one creation I won't ever sell. I'm going to hang it somewhere, maybe my gallery so everyone can see it. I just needed the inspirations approval first." He smiles.

"You more than have it. I'm so lucky I have someone so talented in my life."

Standing now you lock arms around his neck and kiss him slower and deeper than before. Jimin's hand at the small of your back presses you flush against him. His hand slides lower and lower until he's giving the plump flesh of your ass a rough squeeze. It's too easy to get carried away and you badly want him to take you then and there.

He groans pulling away, biting your lip as he does so. "Taking it slow, yeah?" He asks breathlessly. "Does that mean no sex right away?"

"That's probably for the best..." You can't help but kiss him again. You remember how good it felt and it takes everything not to say fuck me against the wall. "There's time."

He presses his forehead against yours and smiles. "Whatever you want, butterfly."

***

Hyerin is at the point of her pregnancy now where her maternity leave has began and days are spent nesting and preparing for the upcoming baby. Preparations unfortunately (and sadly, for you) include her moving into Namjoon's apartment with him. This means two things. One; things are still on a good track for the couple and you're glad and two; you now need to find a roommate, short of getting a fabulously paying job within the next few days.

The painful silence on the employment front is enough to make you uneasy but you're always sure to wear a brave for your friend. She has enough to worry about, you think, and you know the decision to move out wasn't done lightly or with malice either. Hyerin even offered to help you find a new roommate but you waved her off. Read: enough to worry about.

You continue with the job search and fruitless interviews and plough forward, facing no other choice. On the last day Hyerin and you will be living together you both agree to go shopping together. She needs a few more items for the baby and you well, you need a distraction from life for a few hours.

Aimlessly you stroll around a mall that's a forty minute drive away, Hyerin's recommendation because she wanted somewhere with aircon since lately she's been uncomfortable almost all the time. Even though she complains multiple times about her size on the journey you still she thinks she looks great.

She shows you pictures of the newly decorated nursery and your heart warms. Hyerin doesn't have to verbalise it outright, you know she's extremely excited. When you enter a baby clothing store she's cooing and aw'ing over every tiny item and ends up buying more than she wanted to. She looks at you at the checkout and shrugs, as if to say oh well.

"How's Jimin...?" She asks coyly, peering at you out of the corner of her eye. You hold the door for the makeup store open for her and she waddles through. She's aware you've been seeing him, but neither of you have had much time to catch up on details.

"Good. Great." You can't help the smile that stretches your lips.

"You're happy." She informs you and you nod. "I wouldn't put you two together but now that i've seen you with him, it makes sense you know."

"I like him." You cock your head. A year ago you might agreed with her but the more time you spend with him the more you enjoy his company.

"I've never spent much time with him, but I trust your judgement. Would it be strange for the four of us to spend time together?" She hums, swatching a lipstick on the back of her palm, before frowning at the color.

Your stomach twists at the thought. "Maybe in ten years when everyone's forgotten what I've done." You joke. "Namjoon is Jungkook's bestfriend. I wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable."

"It's a shame you started like that."

"Nothing's official."

"Yet." She counters.

You offer a non-committal hum, still unsure if that is exactly the route you want to go down with Jimin. It's easy now, just to see where it goes and take things slowly.

Bored of shopping and after only buying one dress for yourself (that you weren't particularly excited about, but felt the urge to treat yourself regardless) the two of you make the mutual decision to grab a bite to eat. You're more than happy to let Hyerin choose the venue.

She scrolls lazily through her phone while you wait for the food to arrive. You have a text from Jimin sent forty five minutes earlier telling you to have a nice day and you smile at your phone, warmth radiating in your chest.

"Oh my God."

You look up at Hyerin's voice. She has a hand over her mouth and her eyes are wide as she stares at the screen. Instantly you know something is wrong. Fear immediately prickles at your skin, anticipating a problem with the baby.

"What?" Panic is at the edge of your voice. "What's wrong?"

She hesitates and it only serves to worry you further. "I hate that I am the one to show you this but..." Nothing more is said when she slides her phone across the table to you. Frowning you squint at the device, open to a webpage.

Jungkook has been arrested.

Time feels completely frozen as you scroll, reading as fast as your eyes will allow. Your heartbeat is thrumming, uncomfortable and loud in your ears as you try and absorb as much of the information as the article had written. In the middle of the page their was a tacky tabloid picture of him being roughly escorted by police, hands linked behind his back with cuffs. It's even more unfortunate that this was such a public affair.

You swear under your breath at the reason he's in this position, the glaring words taunting you. Drunk driving and disorderly behaviour.

"Are you ok y/n?" Hyerin asks cautiously.

"No." A hot tear splashes on her phone and you wipe it away quickly. "This is bad. It says he's in hospital. Right there at the bottom."

"What for?"

"Apparently he caused an accident and ended up injured. It doesn't give details."

You share a look across the table of fear mixed with worry. Silently you slide her phone back to her. You had anticipated something bad happening as a result of his drinking but not this. Jungkook was a public figure and it pained you to see him immortalised like this. It pained you to know he had taken his recklessness to a new level. It pained you that all of this was happening.

"Let's eat quickly and then go home. I'll call Namjoon and see if there's anything we can do." You friend tells you gently, knowing you well enough to know you won't be able to sit still for the rest of the day. Maybe there was nothing you could do but you could try.

***

"He asked for you."

You stare at Namjoon, astonished. Those were the last words you expected to leave his lips. Standing at your doorway, looking as worried as you felt he patiently waited for your reaction.

"He hates me." The first thought that enters your mind slips out before you can stop it. Namjoon shrugs.

"I'm just the messenger."

Everything about this feels like a bad idea. Your entire body tenses, as if on high alert. Jungkook wants to see you. He could have called you but he didn't, which makes you feel apprehensive. He wants a face to face, which to you, feels like a horrible scenario waiting to be played out. The last time you met in person did not go well.

"I'm on my way now, if you want to join me." Namjoon jingles his car keys at you for emphasis. The idea of not being entirely alone with Jungkook feels slightly more tolerable.

"Fine." You offer reluctantly. He spares you a few minutes to get ready and gather your things before the two of you head to the hospital together.

When you had phoned Jimin a few days prior to share the news it was no surprise to you that he was already aware. You wondered if he had been to visit Jungkook or had plans to, or if Jungkook even wanted that. You don't voice this aloud to Namjoon.

It's mostly quiet in the car and you stare out the window, hoping Namjoon doesn't feel uncomfortable. There's no tension between you anymore but you're not exactly best buds forever. He puts the radio on and you're thankful it eases the silence.

"What do you think about rehab?" You ask, still looking out the window. "For 'Kook. Do you think he needs it?" You clarify.

"I would love it if he went." Namjoon sighs, out of the corner of your eye he grips the wheel a little tighter. "Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him."

Hyerin had told you that Namjoon had been completely sober since they had agreed to try and be together for the sake of their unborn child. It had surprised you to an extent but Namjoon had never been as bad as Jungkook, never appeared as if anything was a problem (not infront of you anyway) and apparently he had no issue maintaining a sober life these days. Jungkook always did do everything better than everyone else.

Anticipation brings a slight tremble to your body as you trail behind Namjoon on your way to Jungkook's hospital suite. He agrees to go in first to tell Jungkook you're here. Your knee shakes when you sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the room.

Every second that passes as you wait feels achingly slow. The low voices of the two men rumble through the thin wall but you can't make out exactly what is being said. You're not sure if you want to. Maybe you could run, it's not too late.

The door clicks open and Namjoon gestures for you to go inside. He doesn't follow.

Jungkook lies in a white bed in the center of the room, propped up on a few large soft pillows. The first thing you think when your eyes land on him is that he doesn't look good. He's thinner and bruised from the accident. "Hi." You whisper for some reason. The room feels too quiet.

"Hey, come sit." He croaks hoarsely, gesturing to a chair next to the bed. His eyes follow you as you cross the room and you feel awkward.

You don't know where to start. "How are you?" It feels redundant but it's the best you've got.

"Battered n' bruised." He smiles but it's clearly forced. "Thanks for coming."

"I was surprised you asked for me. But I'm glad you're okay. Pictures of your car were online. It looked wrecked."

He shrugs. "It's worse than it looks. Modern cars are actually pretty safe. Just a few broken ribs but I'm golden."

Jungkook rubs tiredly at his face, stifling a yawn. There's a new tattoo on his hand. You wonder if there's more. "Don't take this the wrong way but I thought you would be in jail."

"I was injured so they took me here. I have a trial in a few weeks. Probably will just get a DUI." He explains. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this but I've wanted to for a long time. Thought you'd take pity on me and visit."

"It's not pity that brings me here. " You say quietly. He's staring at you so intently you can't meet his gaze for much longer and opt to stare at your lap. "I care."

Jungkook reaches for your hand. Confused, you go to take it but stop for a moment. There's undeniable injection sites in between the blue black ink of his tattoos. He's been shooting up. What you don't know exactly but you know taking anything intravenously means things are bad. You take his hand, albeit shakily. You say nothing about what you noticed.

"I'm in trouble baby." He says. You've never heard him sound so vulnerable before. Your heart positively aches in your chest. "I'm in so much trouble."

"What's going on with you Kook?" You press, squeezing his hand.

"I think I'm out of control." To your complete and utter despair he blinks away a few tears. "I could have killed someone just because I wanted to get fucked up."

"You've always liked to get drunk Kookie..." You say joylessly.

"I don't know when it went from getting drunk to have fun and this. It's not fun anymore."

"It was so stupid of you. So stupid." You sigh. "You are better than that."

"I want to be."

He's gripping your hand so tightly, so desperately you die a little inside. He's broken. "You can get help, there's professionals who are trained to help people exactly like you. All you need to do is take it."

"I want to." He whispers.

"Do it." You are almost begging. "Just. Do. It."

"I'll get Hoseok to look into it for me. Take some time off and sort my head out." He offers you another smile but it's somber. You hope more than anything his words are genuine. Not much else is said between you, other than you offering whatever support and reinforcement you can give.

You hold his hand until you leave, kissing him on the forehead before you go.

***

Jimin strokes your hair absent-mindedly as you lay together in his bed. Your head rests on his chest as you scroll through your phone whilst he watches television. It's so sickeningly domestic, it surprises you how much you enjoy it. You find yourself googling rehab centre's in the area for Jungkook. It's not much but you want to help.

Something Jimin's watching makes him laugh and you peer up at him. "I love this show." He smiles when he notices you looking at him. "You should watch it with me."

"Yeah, in a minute." You mumble, going back to your device. You're composing a few links to send to Hoseok, even though as Jungkook's manager he is fully capable of doing it himself you just want to ensure Jungkook has the opportunity to consider all the options possible.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "It must be important to have captured your attention like this. Job searching?"

"No. I'm looking at rehab places for Jungkook."

"Oh." Jimin replies quietly. He understands why when you explain to him that you went to visit Jungkook. There's an arduous history that comes along with dating you, he knows that. In an ideal world, there wouldn't be but you think he likes you enough to put up with it. You hope. "That's nice of you."

"It's the least I can do. I'm giving Hoseok a list and then I'm all yours, babe. Hold on."

With a heavy sigh you put your phone on his nightstand and snuggle into him a little more. You hook one of your legs around his waist, as if you can't be close enough to him. His hand grips your thigh and holds it there. "Do you want to stay tonight?" He hums. Since you've rekindled things you've yet to actually spend the night together. Tonight you don't want to be alone.

"Please." You reply.

Sensing you might need it, Jimin swoops in for a kiss. Having not had sex yet every time you kiss lately it seems to get real dirty real fast. Neither of you show much self restriction now. It's almost too easy to slide over so you're lying on top of him, knees pressed into the mattress either side of his narrow hips. His hands grip your ass outside of your clothes, encouraging you to grind against him. It doesn't take him long to get hard from this.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if you're the last girl he's been intimate with. A possessive part of you hopes so but the thought goes as quickly as it comes.

Jimin has been so patient with you, so it's your turn to take the lead and let him know you're ready now. Breaking away from his lips you sit up, crossing your arms across your torso, pulling your shirt up and over you head. He watches you, dreamy and glassy-eyed as if he can't quite believe what's happening.

"You sure?" He breathes, eyes drinking in your newly exposed chest.

"Positive."

Resuming the kiss, his hands explore your body, feeling every inch of you. He quickly snaps your bra off and you help him slide it down your arms. You whine when his hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples. You're extra sensitive there anyway but going a long time without being touched only heightens the sensations. Jimin keens at your reaction and grins against your lips.

"Mm, you like this." He whispers, tweaking one of the hardened buds. You only moan your agreement, rutting against him. Feeling how hard he is against you only makes your stomach lurch with arousal.

"Touch me Jimin, do anything you want. I've missed this." You tell him desperately, already feeling a little light headed.

"Fuck," He says wet mouth against your neck as his hands slide underneath the back of your leggings. "Take these off."

You roll on to your back and quickly wiggle the clothing down your hips while Jimin whips his own shirt off. He's on you in an instant, using his hips to push your legs apart. You're barely focusing on his sloppy kisses over your chest because you're too busy trying to get his pants off. He laughs at your failed attempt and his breath tickles.

"Get naked." You demand. "We've waited long enough."

The belt he's wearing slides through the loops on his pants and hits the floor with a thud. Briefly he stands to kick off his jeans and you can't help but ogle the outline of his hardness through the tight grey boxers slung low on his hips. Naked skin on skin makes you feel almost drunk when he's back in your arms. His body is warm and familiar and god, so soft you melt into him easily.

You're hot all over from his touch. His hands consume your body as if it's the first time he's every touched you and wants to explore everywhere.

The time for teasing can wait. You're already gripping his impossibly hard length underneath the material of his underwear, slowly stroking him up and down. He hisses at the contact.

"Do I need a condom?" Somehow there's still a rational part of his brain functioning right now, despite the handjob. Truth be told, you'd forgot that little detail.

"No, tested right after Jungkook."

"I'm still clean." Jimin assures you.

"Good."

He slides down the bed, ungracefully struggling out of his underwear. You bite back a laugh. He's adorable. "Can I eat you out first?" He pleads, already hovering dangerously close to your cunt. You agree eagerly. His beautiful mouth was always fantastic between your thighs.

Jimin's tongue drags through your wet lower lips from top to bottom and you shudder involuntarily. Lately you've been so busy you don't even remember the last time you'd masturbated so his touch is nearly overwhelming. It takes a few cursory experimental licks before he finds his rhythm again. You fist is hair keeping his head firmly in place so you can roll your hips against his face.

He pulls away so quickly you think somethings wrong. "Jimin - "

" - I need to be inside you, now. The friction of my cock against the bedsheets was already getting too much." He laughs, crawling over you. His cock slides against your dripping, now aching, pussy and you groan. "I haven't had sex since you." He whispers, face hovering over yours.

Your hands grip his shoulders while he glides into you. The stretch is a little much at first and he stills for a minute, watching your face for any reactions after seeing you wince. "Okay?" He murmurs, nosing your cheek and peppering a few kisses across your skin.

"Okay." You repeat. "Fuck me." You whisper running a thumb over his plush lip. You can't help but gaze at his face, eyes blown out. He's gorgeous in such a delicate yet sexy way. "Please."

He slowly begins to move his hips, in and out, in and out, in and out and your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. All you were thinking about was how perfect he feels. Your legs fall open a little wider and your back arches against the bed. "Yes, Jimin - right there - god."

His breath is hot against your skin from exertion. He feels so good, filling you up like this. The more he works his hips the better the stretch is. You claw at his ass, encouraging him to go harder.

"Oh, shit, shitshitshit." He moans loudly, driving into you forcefully. He stops for a moment and you look at him, expecting him to rearrange your position or maybe he wants something different. His eyes are tightly screwed shut and his head hangs, as if he's in pain.

"...Jimin?"

"I'm sorry."

You're lost. What is he sorry for? Then it dawns on you.

"Did you just - "

"Yeah."

He's embarrassed and he avoids your gaze. This has never happened to you before, you've heard the stories of guys coming too quickly but thankfully had never experienced it. Until now. You try not to look too upset at the loss of an orgasm tonight because you can already see how annoyed with himself Jimin is. "I'm sorry, it's been a while and you felt so good...and yeah. Fuck this is embarrassing."

His now softening cock slips out of you and you can feel the tell tale sign of his release being to leak out. "Hey," You pull him down to you, and reassuringly kiss him. These things happen. You hadn't expected to last long either. "It's okay. Don't worry about it, next time will be better."

"I wanted our next first time to be unbelievable." He shakes his head, burying it into the crook of your neck with a frustrated groan. "Let me at least make it up to you now."

He props himself up on his left elbow as his right hand makes it's way down your body, over your bellybutton and straight to your neglected center. Languidly circling your clit with the pads of his forefinger and index you sigh in pleasure. "Do you want my mouth, butterfly?" He licks your neck up to your jaw, kissing the side of your parted mouth.

"I've got your cum in me." You huff, feeling a little self conscious and well, gross. You can't imagine that will be an enjoyable experience for him.

"I don't care." He's already moving down your body before you can protest further. "Want to feel you cum on my face."

"Jimin." You whine, trying to close your legs.

"Shit, ok. Hold on." He tells you, jumping up from the bed and disappearing into the adjoining bathroom in all his naked glory. Puzzled, you can only watch and anticipate his next move. He returns with a washcloth and gently cleans you up.

"You are so freakin' cute sometimes." You grin, unable to quite comprehend his thoughtfulness. Your heart clenches. No guy has ever done anything like this before for you. Although it's not a major display of affection, or even a big deal really, the simple gesture reads; I want to take care of you.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He shrugs. When he's done he disposes of the cloth and before he can resume eating you out you grab at him, crashing your lips to his.

"I like you so much." You mumble against him.

"I like you too."

Jimin kisses you slowly for a few moments more, hands wandering down your ribs before gripping the flesh of your thighs. He spreads them once more, before shifting so he's in a more advantageous position. "Can I? Now?" He breathes. You nod.

When he licks into you, your eyes flutter shut and you allow yourself to just enjoy it. His thumbs rub circles on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. He keeps his eyes trained on you, reading your body language. "Ji-min," You breathe. "Want your fingers. Fuck me with them."

The bed creaks as he shifts to comply with your request. Two fingers slip inside you as you clench down, Jimin moans against your clit. Your hips start moving of their own according, rocking against his mouth. When you cum it's so intense you almost sit up completely as your muscles contract. His hands anchor you down.

"Oh my god." You exhale, panting.

"I'm hard again." He laughs. "So sexy." He murmurs, kissing all over the inside of your thighs.

"You wanna go again?"

"If you do."

When Jimin fucks you again he's spooning you from behind, a hand curled underneath your thigh to hold you open for him. He peers down and watches his cock disappear inside of you, moaning at how wet you are. This feels like heaven to you. You clutch his free hand and lock your fingers together.

He cums with a loud groan against the back of your neck. Sweet praises are whispered in your ear as he holds you tightly to him. "You're my favourite, butterfly."

You tenderly look at him over your shoulder. "You're my favourite too."

***

Spending time with Jimin makes you feel like you're floating with pure, unwavering happiness whenever you leave him. He's so sweet and generous - you feel safe with him. Jungkook might have destroyed your ability to trust easily but Jimin is unknowingly building it back up for you. It might be because it's not what he says, it's what he does, all to let you know he cares.

When you leave his place the next morning, full of the breakfast he's made you (with coffee; he remembers how you like it - milk and no sugar), you catch yourself smiling unconsciously several times. You'd feel ridiculous if you weren't so happy.

There's a few moments where you feel guilty for being so elated, worrying about Jungkook. You make a mental note to contact Hoseok in a few days to check in. Hopefully Jungkook is in rehab by then, or at the very minimum taking serious steps towards it.

Home feels empty without Hyerin now. You need to find a roommate, and soon, but the idea of replacing her isn't one you're ecstatic about. She suggested her friend Taehyung, the person you'd met once when he was roped into helping you move. He might be your only hope at this point.

Your phone chimes as you settle into you room. When Namjoon's name appears on your screen it brings a frown to your face, he texts you so infrequently it can only be bad news. Your heart begins to race as you swipe the message open.

from: namjoon jungkook's disappeared from the hospital. He was supposed to be discharged today and no one can reach him. I know you care about him still so i thought you'd want to know. Let me know if he calls you ok?

You swear loudly as you re-read the message. If you know Jungkook as well as you think you do him leaving the hospital without telling anyone was an escape. You appreciate Namjoon reaching out but you almost wish you didn't know that information. Jungkook is in trouble and there's nothing you can do.

MASTERLIST

#jimin fanfiction #bts jimin fanfic #jimin ff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts ff

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absoluteham · 4 years

Text

18, 3, 4

So it’s three in the goddamn morning and this week’s episode broke me so bad I literally had to write an immediate reaction fic to it. IT’S ANGSTY. I’M SORRY. It’s been lightly proofread but not meaningfully edited. It’s sad. READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.

Spoilers, obviously, for Wynonna Earp Season 4, Episode 2.

EIGHTEEN MONTHS, THREE WEEKS, FOUR DAYS

The first day wasn’t so bad.

They got out of the BBD facility by the skin of their teeth. Her leg wasn’t so much broken as it was shattered, and getting out was a humiliating and excruciatingly painful process. The doctors somehow pinned it back together, and even though it hurt like hell, they seemed confident that it would heal in time.

And the whole time in the hospital, she waited for two people to walk through the door— her best friend, and the love of her life. The pain hung over her like a red haze, but she knew that once Waverly got there, she would be very pleasantly distracted and fussed over, and if Wynonna wanted to draw dicks and swear words all over her cast, then so be it, as long as Waverly kissed her the whole time.

She knew that everything would be mostly fine, the same way it was always mostly fine. They always took their knocks and kept going, but they did it together, as a family, and so whatever this new craziness was, they would get through it, as soon as Waverly and Wynonna showed up.

Only they didn’t.

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

The second day was still okay.

Her leg hurt, but between the crutches and the painkillers, she could hobble around a little.

Purgatory was in chaos. She wanted to help, but she was still woozy, and with her leg, she was all but useless. Part of her just wanted to go home, but her house was too close to the action, and besides— when Waverly and Wynonna got back, they would go to the Homestead to regroup. So that’s where she went, too.

She didn’t really expect them to be there, but it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing to ever happen. Even though she knew better, it was still a little disappointing when she shouted their names in the hallway and only heard her own echo reverberating in the walls.

She wanted to go upstairs and collapse into Waverly’s bed and smell their familiar, comforting scent, but there were a lot of stairs and her leg really hurt. She stole Wynonna’s bed instead. It smelled like leather, with hints of smoke and whiskey, and underneath, something a little more feminine.

If they returned while she slept, she would probably wake up from the sound— neither of the sisters were especially quiet. They could help her up to Waverly’s room and from there, everything would fall into place. If Waverly was hurt, they could take care of each other. And if she wasn’t, then she could fuss over Nicole’s leg and they could have that talk about their future together.

As she drifted off to sleep, still half-listening for the door, she hoped she wouldn’t have to wait very long— she really wanted to go upstairs to their real bed.

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

The third day was… a little harder.

She awoke dry-mouthed and with her leg practically on fire with pain. She hadn’t thought to leave any water by the bedside, and there was only a quarter-full bottle of whiskey by the side of the bed. Against her better judgment, she used a tiny swallow of it to chase the painkillers down.

With her leg taking her out of the action, all she had to do at the Homestead was wait. She tried to text the others for updates, and occasionally got answers back, mostly brief and confusing. Mostly, she just rested her leg and listened for the sound of the door opening. After awhile, she moved to the porch and sat there instead, hoping to see Wynonna and Waverly’s return even a moment sooner. She was worried about them, and she missed them.

It was cold on the porch, but that was okay. The warmth of that first hug would chase it all away, and then she would feel better.

When the sun set, she went back inside.

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

The seventh day was harder.

Her leg still hurt, and her nightmares were back, and she’d really expected Waverly and Wynonna to be home by now. She was tired, and everything was strange, and Purgatory was in some state of chaos, and she really wanted Waverly to walk through the door, healthy and happy and carrying her father’s ring. As much as her leg was bothering her, she was sure that a few good hours of cuddles and a good night of sleep would make her feel completely better.

She kept waiting on the porch, but the isolation was starting to get to her. She wanted to do something. If the town was in trouble, she wanted to help. If Waverly and Wynonna were in danger, she wanted to save them. But she could barely walk.

So all she could do was wait.

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

The thirtieth day was so much harder.

Her leg still hurt a little, but she could tolerate it better now, at least enough that she could go to town sometimes and help where she could. Truth be told, that pain was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Sleeping was getting harder and harder. She was still in Wynonna’s bed— she could climb the stairs now without any trouble (thank goodness, since the Homestead’s one bathroom was annoyingly up there), but she was afraid of what it would do to her emotionally to go back to Waverly’s room.

Would the sheets still smell like her? Smell like them? Or had she waited too long? Would she wake up confused, reaching out for the body that was supposed to be next to her? Would she roll over after a nightmare, looking for a warm embrace to snuggle into? Or would it just be a cruel reminder, as soon as she opened her eyes, that they still weren’t back?

She felt touch-starved and cranky, but she couldn’t help it. She missed them. She missed Waverly. They hadn’t been separated for this long since they’d met, and it was torture. She wanted to talk to her, to see her face and hear her voice and process her reactions. She wanted a big, tight hug and a long, deep kiss, and one decent, dreamless night of sleep.

Sometimes she caught herself daydreaming about simple things— the sound of Waverly’s laugh, or the tone of Wynonna’s voice as she made a joke. She thought about how soft Waverly was— her skin, her lips, her hair— and the way they all felt under her fingertips. She remembered the sounds she made when they made love in the upstairs bedroom.

She still waited on the porch sometimes. But not as often.

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

The hundredth day was the hardest yet.

She was getting used to waking up screaming or crying. She didn’t even reach out anymore, no longer half-expected Waverly’s warm body next to her. She just already knew she was alone.

It was somehow worse that way.

At some point, she had given into temptation and gone into Waverly’s room. She had waited too long, but sometimes she would catch the slightest whiff of her scent in a pillow or in the sheets, and her heart would give a huge, embarrassing leap at the reminder. She started using it as a sort of reward, or a rare source of secret comfort. If the day had been bad enough, or the nightmare upsetting enough, she would crawl into Waverly’s bed and remember their sweet shared moments there and just imagine that someday, eventually, her family would come back for her.

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

The two-hundredth day was pretty bad.

Purgatory was still a mess, but they were all doing what they could. She saw the others only rarely these days, and though they were all bonded by the intensity of the situation, they all mostly had to lie low, isolated in their own little bunkers. Nicole stayed at the Homestead, convinced that if— no, for God’s sake, when— Waverly and Wynonna came back, they would want to go home. So she kept it safe, and kept it in one piece, and shot at anyone who stepped foot on the cursed Earp land.

Her hair was visibly growing out, and she let it. She had too many other things on her mind to worry about, and it didn’t seem important. Besides, Waverly had always liked it long.

The cast had come off her leg, and it was such a relief, even if the muscle had weakened from its time in the cast and would take some time to build up again. She had felt a weird pang as it came off, struck by the thought that Wynonna had never gotten the opportunity to scrawl lewd drawings onto it. She couldn’t quite explain to the doctors that she was upset by the lack of dicks on it.

Some days, she would stand around the Homestead, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls or propped up on tables, making sure she still remembered their every feature. Waverly’s smile, Wynonna’s smirk. Waverly’s long, beautiful hair, Wynonna’s top-shelf ass. (She laughed at that, even alone in the empty house.)

Daydreaming became a full-fledged hobby. It was bittersweet to remember the days they’d all spent together— sometimes fighting evil, sometimes just… living. Coffee in the kitchen in the morning, and sitting around the fire at night. Her focus was usually on Waverly, but she missed Wynonna, too. They were her family, and she hadn’t seen them in the better part of a year.

It was getting harder and harder to hold onto to hope that they would return. Something had obviously gone wrong— terribly wrong. But she had to believe that they were still out there somewhere, trying to get home. What other choice did she have?

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

Christmas sucked.

Her birthday sucked, too.

Both times, she clung irrationally to this strange, desperate thought that maybe that would be the day they turned up, that her present would be an end to the endless waiting. That she could wrap Waverly Earp up in her arms like a gift from the universe and never let her go again.

After that, she tried not to hope so much.

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

The three-hundred-sixty-fifth day was horrible.

She baked herself a cake.

It didn’t help.

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

The five-hundred-seventy-second day was… cold. And empty.

She hadn’t seriously thought about them returning in months— not really, not in any real, hopeful way.

After all, after all those months, after a year, after five hundred and seventy two days… why should any one day be any different?

Time barely meant anything anymore. They still fought to keep Purgatory intact, she still guarded and maintained the Homestead, and all the days sort of blended together. She fixed a broken part of the fence. She shot a demon trying to raid the Homestead. She rehung a crooked door. She ate. She slept— sort of. She made sure all Wynonna’s precious throw pillows stayed intact and all of Waverly’s favorite blankets stayed clean and cared for. She left Valdez carved into the wall as a tasteless memento of that fateful day.

Nights were still terrible most of the time. She sort of remembered what it had been like to sleep next to Waverly— she remembered the blankets, there were so many blankets. They had been too warm for her, so they couldn’t always sleep right next to each other. But first thing in the morning, there had been sunrise cuddles and lazy smiles and gentle, affectionate teasing. And sometimes, there would be hands sliding under clothing and hot, panting breaths, and burning, sensual touches, and cries of release.

She never reached out anymore, except after the worst nights, where different layers of nightmares— Bulshar’s massacre, the widow’s bite, free-falling down that damn grate— left her brain so scrambled that for a second after waking up, some long-buried instinct still thought she was entitled to a hug of comfort. In her weaker moments, she fantasized about warm arms encircling her, and a gentle voice telling her that she was safe and that everything was okay. But she tried not to think about that so much anymore. It helped, but at a cost.

Her leg was back to being as strong as it ever was, but she felt like her heart had hardened. Every day, for five hundred and seventy-two days, she had waited for her family to come back to her. And every day, for five hundred and seventy-two days, she had been let down. That push and pull of hope and disappointment had left her raw at first, but now the wound had long since callused over. She refused to move on, she refused to give up on them— but she was getting too exhausted to really hope anymore.

She still stood on the porch sometimes. She told herself it was just to keep watch over the lands. She didn’t let herself admit that there could be any other reason, any hope lingering under the callus.

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

On the five hundred and seventy-third day, Nicole Haught stood on the Homestead porch, just leaning in the doorway. She kept her shotgun with her, but didn’t really expect to need it. It was a cold, snowy day, and she rubbed at her eyes. She’d had strange dreams all night, the good and the bad all tangled together, and it left her feeling twitchy and on-edge.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, standing out against the snow. She raised the shotgun and gave a warning shot.

“Eat shit, shit-eater! I’m warning you, no trespassing!” she shouted in that direction, hoping they wouldn’t bother putting up a fight. The figure ducked behind a tree, then emerged seconds later.

No.

No way.

It couldn’t be.

After all this time, these months, these years, after everything…

“Waverly…”

It was her, standing against the rising sun like a vision.

She fumbled the shotgun as she set it against the wall, the shock leaving her numb. She didn’t wonder if it was a trick. She didn’t wonder if it was a dream, or a lie, or a hallucination, or an imposter.

Nicole had thought that her heart had hardened, that it had built up a layer of armor around it, but it all shattered like ice the instant Waverly Earp flew into her arms.

“It’s me.” The impact, physical and emotional, nearly bowled her over. Waverly held her tight, then pulled back enough to look into her face. “It’s me. Oh God, it’s you!” She was beaming, and the sight of her smile nearly dropped Nicole to her knees. “We’re home…”

“Are you… real…?” Nicole stammered out, the words tumbling out of her on sheer instinct.

“Are you?” Waverly countered, half-laughing.

“Get in here and check,” she choked out, and Waverly surged forward. Their lips connected, and everything else fell away.

Without breaking apart for even a second, they staggered their way into the house, and then, layer by layer, clothes fell away. They needed to see each other. They needed to feel each other. It had been eighteen months, three weeks, and four days, and it was over. The time had finally, finally come.

Nicole tried to steer them up the stairs, but it was hard to focus on the task when Waverly was soft and real and here, here, here. They kissed like it was the end of the world, and like it was the start of a new one. Every touch, every kiss, was a new revelation, a reminder of what she had lost, of what had been returned to her.

Their clothing dropped to the floor piece by piece, a trail of love leading straight to where their bodies paused— here against a wall, here on the floor, here on the stairs, inching their way up to the bedroom with agonizing, delicious slowness.

The stairs turned out to be as far as they got. If anyone had asked Nicole what she thought about having sex on the Homestead stairs, she would have laughed in their face and pointed out the bedroom a ten-second walk away. But here in this moment, ten seconds was far too long to stop, far too far a distance to travel. Waverly was in her arms, naked and real, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

They paused in a moment of afterglow, not fully separating, just breathing, just staying close, just looking at each other in amazement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” Waverly said, and Nicole’s heart soared, almost two years of fear and sadness and loneliness pouring out of her in sweat and heavy breaths and small, involuntary laughs. “So why do I feel like bawling?”

Nicole pressed their noses together, smirking at her and feeling more like herself than she had in… oh, about nineteen months, give or take.

“Well, after what we just did, you’re probably pretty dehydrated,” she teased, drunk on the lightness she felt.

Waverly laughed, giggling against her, and something broke anew in Nicole’s chest. She basked in the sound, letting it wash over her.

“Your laugh…” she breathed, closing her eyes for a second to drink it in. “…is like… Christmas.” She shook her head even as she said it, refusing to remember what last Christmas had been like. There hadn’t been a lot of laughter. She kept going, instead, washing the memories from her mind with another kiss. “Your lips are so soft.”

“Are you going to spend all day listing all the things you like about me?” Waverly asked.

“More like the rest of my life,” Nicole said, and meant it.

Waverly seemed to search her face, silently asking if that was the answer to a question asked so long, long ago.

“I love you,” Waverly said, breaking Nicole’s heart open anew. And then, as thought that were too much, too real, too serious, she gripped the ends of Nicole’s hair, tossing them in her hands. “I’m also loving the Little Mermaid vibes.” She looked at it like there was something funny about it, and Nicole wondered if she’d expected her to keep it the same length this whole time. “So, what, you just zipped into the Ghost River Triangle and got extensions?”

Nicole gave her a strange look, trying to understand her confusion.

“I just grew it out,” she said, hoping that they could return to the rest of my life and I love you part of the conversation, which kept tugging at her soft, soft heart.

“What?” Waverly asked, her voice puzzled and oddly serious. Nicole shook her head, nuzzling closer as tears encroached.

Somehow, her confusion, this focus on such a pointless thing, just made the moment seem all the more real. In Nicole’s dreams, even the best ones, Dream Waverly could only speak on her script, but here… now… she was her own person, thinking her own quirky thoughts in her own beautiful brain.

It was Waverly. Her voice, her face, the crinkle of her smile, the light in her eyes. She was here. She was really here. She felt real, and she smelled real, and she tasted real, and it was all just… so much. A feast after a famine.

“Sorry, I just… I just missed you so much.” Overwhelmed, she buried her face in Waverly’s shoulder as the tears forced their way out, and Waverly held her close, cradling her head and gripping her hair like she really wouldn’t let go.

“Wait… How did…” Waverly pushed her gently back after a few seconds, her brow furrowed and a confused frown on her face. “How did you grow it out?”

Nicole couldn’t understand how they were sitting there, together, naked on the Homestead staircase, and Waverly only had questions about her hair, of all things. She chose to take it as a larger question about what had happened while they were separated.

“I broke my leg, and I came back to Purgatory, but I had to retreat to the Homestead. I did everything I could to keep it safe for you.” Desperation rang in her voice at the last part— she wanted Waverly to know how hard she’d tried, how she’d wanted to do it, all for her. How she’d waited. How despite everything, she’d never really lost hope, not completely.

But Waverly still looked serious.

“Nicole, wait, just tell me. How long have I been gone?”

“Don’t you know?” Waverly didn’t answer, so Nicole continued, not even needing to think about it. The clock in her head had never stopped ticking, the mental calendar had never lost a day. “You’ve been gone… eighteen months, three weeks, and four days.”

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #nicole haught #waverly earp #fanfiction #reaction fic #wynonna earp season 4 #angst #wynonna earp spoilers #spoilers #i'm not kidding #I HAD FEELINGS ABOUT THIS EPISODE #AND I CANNOT SLEEP UNTIL I RELEASE THEM INTO THE WORLD #I may or may not post this on AO3 later or delete it entirely

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Open When You Need Me

NOTES: 5.8k words. Not a happy ending. This is for ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK. So, proceed only if you’re prepared. Warnings: Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss.

On September 15th, Dean Winchester buys a stack of Open-When cards from Archies.

They’re blank, but lined.

He knows Cas isn’t the biggest fan of his birthday, because it brings back sullen memories of a past he’s left behind - but he can’t just do nothing for his best friend’s birthday.

Ergo, he’ll just gift Cas those letters, and keep it mellow.

Come September 18, Cas wakes up to Dean holding a cake in his hands, giant grin lighting up his face.

Before Cas can even put on a shirt, Dean’s fixed a wobbly conical birthday hat on his head, struggling with the string until he just gives up and perches the hat indignantly on Cas’s unruly bedhair, and it stays.

“Happy birthday!” He beams, handing him the gift.

Cas smiles, not wholly because he feels the need to match Dean’s enthusiasm, but also a little bit for he can’t help it - as Dean waits expectantly for him to unwrap the now-thoughtfully-filled-in Open When cards.

“Oh!” Cas exclaims, when he understands what it is. “Thank you.” He adds, distractedly, starting to look through, without reading the contents.

There are three categories, and each has five cards. On top of the first, the ‘Open When You’re Sad’ bunch, is a handwritten birthday wish in pink. Cas flips to the second without opening the cards in the first, carefully, and that’s ‘Open When You’re Tired’. The last one says, ‘Open When You’re Lonely’. And there’s a red heart in the corner, which Cas stares at, with his cheeks warm, as Dean starts to speak.

“Y’know,” He mumbles, insecure. “I wanted to get you a gift which you don’t crumble in pressure, opening. No scope for awful, old memories with this one.”

Cas purses his lips.

Dean goes on. “So, there. You don’t even have to open these right now.”

“Thank you.” Cas repeats, feeling an overpowering rush of happy settle heavy in his chest. His eyes fall on the title, once again. “I really don’t.”

And then he scoots over on the bed so that Dean can sit down, and the first thing Dean does once they’re back in a huggable height range, is slide his arm around Cas, and squeeze.

“Of course you don’t. Happy birthday.” He repeats, as well.

They do eventually get on to cutting the cake, and later, while Cas tries to paint Dean with the blue icing, the latter briefs Cas about their minimalistic, yet also everything-Cas-like itinerary.

It’s a good day.

On November 6th, a truckdriver drives through the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. As his shabby radio plays Green Day, hooked to the local station, he curses at himself for spending all of the previous night in a bar. He knows he can’t afford to take a break either; delivery is due on the 8th.

When he hits the black Chevrolet Impala, emerging from an intersecting road into his lane, sidelights blaring exactly as they ought to - he swears out loud and immediately slams his foot on the brakes.

But it’s too late.

Within the very second of contact, the smaller vehicle had suffered damage beyond repair. Stuck in that moment of dread, it takes him a second to realize what just happened.

For a moment, he considers getting down to examine the wreck. Maybe someone was still -

No, that was ridiculous. The car was completely battered. If the crash had smashed the sturdy metal skeleton of the Chevy so horrifyingly, the driver must be in Heaven already.

He puts his head on the wheel. Muttering a prayer under his breath, he silently decides to keep driving.

After all, it’s an adequately busy road. Someone would get to the site sooner or later. There was no need for immediately medical services, either - or he tells himself, that he would’ve made an anonymous call. He has a family. He can’t risk the chance of being put away for this. And court always costs too much, as it is.

He drives on.

On November 6th, a few hours later, Cas receives a call from the General Hospital of Lawrence.

A serious voice informs him, punctuated by formal apologies and grave pauses, that Dean Winchester had been killed in an accident.

And in the next breath, he’s asked to confirm if he knew the man, since Castiel Novak’s listed as one of his emergency contacts, and the other, a Sam Winchester, is only in highschool, and cannot possibly be summoned for the purpose of identifying the body.

Cas cannot utter a sound for a few beats, but when his voice returns, it does so all at once; all that comes out is a strangled sob, which is supposed to be, “No!”

On November 8th, Castiel agrees to spend the night in Charlie’s apartment, after Dean’s funeral.

Ellen absolutely insists upon it.

All the way to her place, Charlie tries to talk to him. She’s gentle about it, but she needs Castiel to say something back; for she lost a friend, as much as he did.

Except, in a sway of feelings threatening to drown him, Castiel knows that she didn’t.

Nobody lost Dean as much as he did.

Because nobody had had him, as much as he did. Even before, they’d spend their days entwined with the other’s. And ever since Dean asked him out - September 20th - it had been even better. Dean had been everywhere, and Cas had loved it.

Castiel was the one who woke up next to him, and he was the person Dean first smiled at in the morning. Castiel was who kissed Dean at night, and hugged him in his sleep. Castiel was who shared an apartment with Dean, and had been doing it since the last three years. Castiel was his best friend, and his boyfriend, and -

Castiel was who’d lost him the most.

Tears start to prick his eyes, without a word said out loud - goddammit, he’s always so close to tears now.

Charlie notices. She’d been avoiding mentioning Dean - though ironically, he was the reason they knew each other. But now, it’s like she wants to address it. She looks the kind of crushed Cas feels.

“Cas? Are you okay?”

Cas doesn’t even bother to nod, as the tears start to fall.

During the funeral, he’d sat in the first row, next to Sam, who’d cried entirely through Bobby’s, and then Ellen’s eulogy. He’d even cried after, red-faced like Dean used to get, while shaking Castiel’s hand before he had to leave. Before Ellen packed him off to Charlie’s, worried about him spending the night all alone at his and Dean’s place. For the first time since it happened.

Castiel didn’t cry at the funeral. He was afraid he wouldn’t know how to stop. But now he does, and he still doesn’t know how to stop, but he can’t care anymore.

“Cas,” Charlie pleads. “I know it hurts, and I know you miss him, but we’ve got to -”

“Charlie, stop.” Castiel lets out, cutting her off. He knows it hurts, too. He knows he misses him, too. But he cannot hear her say the same things again.

He knows she cares, and he knows she’s doing it because she thinks it might help, but he doesn’t want to hear how they’ve got to be strong. About how they’ve got to hold up, because he can’t, he really fucking can’t.

“The car?” She asks, her voice trembling as well.

Castiel changes his mind. “Yes. Please, stop the car.” She does it, pulling over to the side, and turning her face to look at Castiel with red, teary eyes. Castiel knows she knows what he’s going to do.

“Cas, don’t go there.”

“I have to.” Castiel draws in a breath, and it somehow makes his chest feel more constricted. Like the air’s demanding space it doesn’t have anymore, for the heart has taken up all of it. “I - there’s some things I need to get, and I need to do this right now, Charlie, I have to go.”

He unclicks the lock open, and gets out of the car. But then he leans in, and looks back at her. “I’ll be at your flat by night.”

“Promise me you will.” Charlie bites her lip, and a tear rolls down her cheek. It’s awful to see his friends in pain. Everything’s awful, now. All of it.

“I promise.” Castiel swears. “Please drive safe.” He says, and those words make him lose the last bit of restrain he had over his emotions, and as he straightens from the waist to stop looking through the car window, his tears fall freely.

Drive safe.

“It was an accident.” The police officer had admitted. “Clearly a truck. We’re looking at camera footage from a mile ahead. I’m sorry, sir. It wasn’t his fault.”

Dean had been driving safe, too.

Castiel inhales, painfully.

Cheeks hot and neck hotter, his sleeves constantly dabbing at his eyes, and trying not to think, he takes off in the direction of their apartment.

He knows how it must look, a fully grown man running on the footpath, unable to stop crying, but he does not even think about it. He thinks about getting home. Castiel seeks refuge in all the shortcuts Dean’s ever taught him. He was so good at navigating, in even the newest parts of town. And at remembering directions. And roads. Driving safe -

Castiel forces himself to stop thinking, at once. He just allows his legs to take him, mostly functioning on muscle memory.

It’s not very far away.

Within minutes, he’s standing in front of their apartment building, and he’s buzzing himself in, but the elevator’s on the third floor - it’s useless to wait, so he sprints up the stairs to their fourth floor apartment.

When he’s panting in front of their door, somehow he remembers he has the keys in his pocket, and somehow his hands do the twisting in the lock, and some-fucking-how, Castiel is back inside this apartment and -

He has no idea what he’s been expecting, but Dean’s not here.

If anything, his absence strikes Castiel even harder here. There’s a lack of Dean in every nook. When Castiel locks the door behind him, there’s a lack of Dean by his side, maybe crowding him against the door with a teasing wink, and when Castiel turns, there’s no Dean on the couch, sprawled out, yet in the middle, so that whichever side Cas picks, they’re at least brushing knees.

When Castiel looks around, getting desperate, there’s no Dean in the kitchen, and no Dean in the hallway. There’s none of his bright smiles, or his awful jokes, or his ridiculous lines, or his full-body laughs.

There’s absolutely nothing of him at all. But yet, it’s all him.

Everything here’s his.

The couch, he’d bought, before Castiel moved in. The other furniture, they’d shopped for, together. The walls which they’d painted over summer, had Dean’s taste in color all over them. The curtains, if he listened hard enough, would probably complain about the millions of times Dean walked into them distractedly, and made the dreamcatchers jingle. Castiel can even bet there’s still leftovers in the fridge which Dean had saved.

And Castiel? Well, he’s Dean’s too, isn’t he?

Dean used to call Cas, his everything, sometimes.

Castiel lets out a sound of anguish, stranded in the middle of their apartment like he’s being held hostage by the memories, and gripping onto a chair to keep himself on his feet.

How is it fair that there can be so much of Dean around, but he can just be gone forever?

“Forever.” Cas repeats, the word pinning him down to that frame of time, but also making him want to fall to his knees and sob for the rest of his life. “Forever.” He says again, weaker, and it hurts even more. It pierces every inch of him with an icicle of despair, and it wrings his insides, and he doesn’t know what to do, and he can’t move.

He’s unbearably sad, and it nags at every fibre of his being like nothing ever has, and he’s tired, he’s tired of it all - he’s tired of missing Dean, and he’s tired of crying, and he’s tired of hurting, because it’s overpowering and it’s never going to subside - and of course he’s lonely; he knows he has friends and he knows he maybe even has a family, if he were willing to go back home - but truth is, he’s got nobody left in the world, for Dean is gone and -

Castiel suddenly remembers why he was here.

The letters.

He abandons his knuckle-white grip on the dining table chair, and rushes to their bedroom. Castiel doesn’t look at the bed - because he will never be able to get Dean out of his mind if he looks, and he doesn’t look at the photograph of them on his bedside table - though it takes a huge piece of his restrain to not do so.

He just pulls open the bottom drawer, and shuffles through things like flashlights and emergency coffee, until he’s found the Open When letters.

He picks up all three categories - because of course he needs all of them right now, and he gets up shakily, clutching all three bundles to his shirt and spends a moment to think of where he should do this.

(He can’t just settle on the bed, or the couch, or anywhere else they used to spend time together, because that’d be more harm than not.)

So, he decides to do it in their balcony.

Dean wasn’t a fan of that place.

“The air, dude.” Dean crossed his arms. “It’s so fucking chilly. And the floor’s freezing, all times of the year.”

He didn’t like being cold.

Castiel does not need to think about Dean wearing his coat right now. Or holding him under the blanket, and kissing the top of his head.

He convinces himself he cannot be thinking about any of it.

Castiel rushes out to the balcony, and the wind blows wintry, but it doesn’t matter, and he just sinks to the floor.

The three bundles are still clasped to his chest - he’s really counting on these, they’re his last option, and they have to help somehow, don’t they - so he leans back against the door, crosses his legs, and picks up the first bundle.

Open When You’re Sad

He flips to the first card. The handwriting is small, and fills every line of the 5x3 card.

Mostly, when Dean wrote notes to put up on the fridge as reminders, it was all uppercase. But this was a tidy sentence-case - distinctly Dean’s, as it were. It’s black ink, and the background is a faded peach, and Cas hangs onto every word.

“I guess you’re sad right now, Cas, and that’s no good. So here’s how I say you should deal with it. Often when we’re sad, we forget how many reasons we have not to be. How bout you think about something that makes you smile, something that gets you fuzzy, something that feels like pie?”

That’s all the space there is on the card, and Cas takes a moment to curse at the thick embossed floral boundaries, which take up so much of the space where Cas could have had words from Dean instead.

He rereads the card, for it feels surreal to have Dean with him for a moment again, but then he lets out a staggering breath. This isn’t working.

There’s no reason for him not to be sad, right now. None at all.

Dean was who made him smile, Dean was who got him fuzzy, and Dean was who felt like pie. This doesn’t help, it just makes Cas miss him even more. And it’s not like he needs that. He cannot get Dean out of his head for a single second, and -

He desperately flips to the next card.

“I hope you’re not just flipping through all of these at once. Okay, I’m going to assume that you’re not. And that implies that you’re sad again, so here’s what I suggest you think about: the happiest days of your life. I know you’re ridiculously indecisive, hence, the plural. Go back to those days in your head, Cas. Leave the sad behind. (Hey, am I in it?)”

The last question - now, although a rhetoric - makes Cas want to scream.

Had there been any doubt of it, in Dean’s mind? Of course, Dean was in it. Who else could it even be?

Cas may have been indecisive before, but he was sure now. His happiest days were all the ones with Dean at his side. All of them. From the birthdays to Christmas, and from being sick to panicky about a deadline.

Dean wasn’t just a part of his happiest days. It was all him.

And the irony is that he cannot do what Dean says, and think about those days, because that’ll break him down again, and he’ll end up crying all over these letters and ruining them.

Which he’s not going to let himself do. He’s saving these, forever.

He breathes in through his mouth, and swallows - maybe that way, he’ll not feel like he’s being choked, an inch closer to his life with each passing moment. And he tries not to pay attention to how this card doesn’t help either. Not at all.

Still hopeful, he flips to the next.

“Cas, remember the thing we did last time about your happiest days? Well, I want you to realize, this time, that the next one is never far away. There’s even hope for tomorrow, to make it onto that list. All of this shall pass. There’s always going to be hope. Ps. it’s probably because you’re not right in front of me, that I’m spouting Dr Phil lines. Well, I can’t throw away this card, but if you flip to the next, I’ll forgive you.”

This won’t ever pass.

There’s no hope now, and there’ll be none tomorrow, and with each day, Cas will have a little less of Dean with him, and that will make it worse, not better. With each day, the sound of Dean’s voice will grow fainter in his ears, and that hurts to even think about.

Cas doesn’t think he could ever bear losing Dean’s voice. He loves it.

He’s going to lose it.

He’s going to lose everything.

No, he’s already lost everything. It’s just going to be taken away from him, soon.

Cas bites his lower lip hard enough that it stings. Stings so hard, that he’s pulled out of his reverie.

Dean, this time, gave him permission to move onto the next card. So he does.

“Hey, again. This time, I want you to remember how much all of us love you, okay? And people who’re loved by this many people aren’t sad, buddy. You’re brilliant, and you care, and I know your heart. It’s so kind, Cas. You’re a great listener, and have a really nice smile, and you’re tall and hilarious and all kinds of awesome. You’ve got good taste for a nerd. And you’re loved by us all for exactly who you are. (Wow, I did a lot better in this card.)”

Cas sighs, pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his head on his knees.

How is he ever supposed to even begin to stop thinking about Dean? Dean, who says these things; Dean, who always knows just how to make everything okay -

Except for now.

Except for fucking now, when Cas needs it more than anything else.

Of course, this doesn’t make him feel better. He’s trying to let the words help, he swears he’s trying, but these are all the things Dean has written, and will never say again. In fact, he doesn’t care what Dean says, as long as he does. But he won’t.

Cas shakes his head to stop himself from drifting away into the cruelest thoughts. He wants to read ahead, he’s still holding out for something that’ll help, he just has to keep reading -

Nobody will ever understand him like Dean did. Nobody can be anything like what Dean was to him.

And he can never be, to anybody, what he was to Dean.

He can’t stop himself. He can’t stop a thing. That’s just his life, now. Trying to stop thinking about Dean, and failing each time. Forever.

Cas flips to the last card of this bunch, and starts reading, clenching his jaw.

“You once told me I make you happy, so here goes nothing. You want to know when I knew we were going to be friends forever? I want to tell you, but I’m really not sure. I remember it being a few weeks of ‘snarky, neat, supersmart roommate’ but suddenly, I’d plunged into this thing, where we were best friends, and I could not imagine my life without you. I know this isn’t the kinda stuff one writes on these cards, but please don’t be sad, Cas? You’re the kinda guy who should get to be happy forever.”

“Then come back.” Cas whispers to the page, and the tears are back. His vision clouds, and he tilts his head back against the wall. “Come back to me, Dean, and I promise I won’t be sad anymore.”

The pages rustle in the wind, as if they want Cas to keep flipping through them.

“Any other time,” Cas says to himself, talking aloud to keep himself from crying. His voice shakes. “Any other reason I got to be sad, and these cards would’ve worked.”

But not this time, he doesn’t say. He still has hope. He has to have hope.

He’s finished the Open When You’re Sad bunch. The next was Tired.

Cas was tired. He was tired of this moment, this day, this entire week. And he was tired of desperately hoping these cards would make him feel better, while it just seemed like they broke his heart into more pieces. Each fragment perhaps seeps into the letters. Nothing’s working.

But he doesn’t care.

It’s better to be sad with Dean’s letters, than to be so, all alone. So he flips to the next section.

Open When You’re Tired

He cannot give up hope.

“Cas, you’ve been an overworked, overachieving idiot for so long now, you know I don’t mind it, but if you’re opening this card right now, it HAS to mean you need a break. I need you to get up. Get yourself a bowl of cereal or something. Go outside to the balcony, maybe. Look up at the sky, and the birds flying around aimlessly, and tell yourself that if they can do that all of their life, then you have earned yourself a fucking break.”

That’s very different from what Cas just read in the previous card, so he rereads it, hearing Dean’s voice clearer in this one, because that’s usually how Dean speaks.

He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse.

Birds don’t fly around aimlessly, but Cas knows Dean knew that - it’s just poetic licence.

He also realizes that Dean had thought that Cas would come to this bunch when he was drained from studying. From writing papers, and learning for exams, and not when he was trying to get himself to stop crying over the death of his best friend.

He doesn’t blame Dean.

Three days ago, Cas would have thought the same thing.

Tired just means something else, now.

Cas flips to the next card. And then the next. They’re all similar to this one. Reminds Cas of the existence of parks. Suggests channels for animal videos on Youtube. Describes how to best take a nap.

Cas tries to smile, even if it’s sad.

He feels oddly deprived of more meaningful words. He’d just assumed that there’d be more things about their friendship - their relationship, about Dean, and not just about midterms and finals.

He only wishes that that were the reason he was nestled on the floor with all these letters.

Cas stretches his legs out again. The floor’s so cold, he can feel it through his slacks.

Funeral slacks.

Cas hardly notices it.

He flips on. The fifth card’s a different take on ‘tired’. Still not what he’d been looking for, but again, he treasures every word he gets.

“This World’s an awful place to be, and I wonder if you’re tired of it being horrible. There’s racists and bigots, and evil billionaires and anti-feminists, and I know it can be too much sometimes. But the thing is, change will happen. Starting with good people like you, Cas, and activists, and dreamers, things will turn out fine. So let’s try to hang in there, and hang in there with hope.”

Dean was so good with words.

His sentences make Cas want to nod, and agree, and applaud - but also shout at the top of his lungs, the harsher questions. Where’s Dean now? How does he expect Cas to hang in there, without him? How is Cas supposed to live in this world, already terrible, now made infinitely more so, by the loss of his best friend?

But Cas doesn’t utter a word.

Everything hurts.

He’s finished flipping through this second bunch too, and decides he’s no closer to feeling less sad and tired. In fact, this bunch wasn’t even particularly satisfying, because now he was getting closer to the end, but Dean’s words were just as casual, and inconsequential as -

As anyone would expect them to be.

Cas braves his heart, and resolves to not give into greed right now. He resolves to not seek out the intense emotionality which fiction had made him believe he would receive.

He gets to have Dean around for a little longer. That’s what should count.

He picks up the last bunch, and lets out a huff of a laugh, mocking his own predicament. He’s never been more lonely. Not even when he rode a bus across America, landing up here, freshly after cutting ties off with his own family. For, you see, there had been hope then.

Now? He was not just lonely, he was hopeless.

The wind blows with an almost eerie whisper, and Castiel decides to not give himself time to think.

The more he thinks, the more unbearable the pain became - so he will just read through all the cards; the last five cards Dean had written for him to read when he got lonely, and he resolves to not waste time thinking about how each of those was awfully ironic in some way now, because if he does, he’ll not be able to stop - and then he’ll not be able to move, and he’ll probably end up unconscious on the floor.

It’s getting really cold.

The tears haven’t stopped the entire time, though he isn’t sniffling. They just keep on rolling down his face, like there’s a button which was pushed so hard that it can’t come back to normal. Ever.

He wonders for a fleeting second if he’ll ever stop feeling this lonely, in every way he’s ever felt anything, as he starts reading.

“Cas, you know you’re one of the bravest people I know, right? You left your family because you wanted to follow your passions, and I respect you so much for standing up for yourself. But I know that makes you feel all alone sometimes, so I just want to remind you that you have a family here too. Ellen and Jo? They love you like one of their own. Bobby let you ride his frigging motorcycle, dude. Charlie, Kevin, all of them, they can’t stop gushing about you. May feel like it, but you’re never really alone. You’re my family.”

That was a long block of text, and Dean seemed to have squeezed in the last bits in tiny scrawl, and it makes Cas’s heart smash against his ribs. He knows how much that line meant to Dean. So it means a lot to him too.

He flips to the next.

“Just like a few moments of silence doesn’t mean you’re all alone, sometimes it feels like there’s nobody around you, but all they’re doing is waiting outside the door. Don’t be nervous to reach out. We’re all here for you, but you have a fucking stellar poker face, so it’s hard to tell you’re lonely unless you come out and tell me, so please don’t keep it bottled up. What am I here for?”

The ‘we’ had eventually become an ‘I’.

Cas wets his lips. That isn’t entirely true, because while Cas likes to think he’s good at hiding his actual feelings, it’s never really worked with Dean. Dean could always see right through him.

Probably why he’s never had to open these cards before when Dean was always right there.

He wishes Dean was right here.

There’s no falling stars in the sky. So his tears oblige.

“I’m lonely, Dean.” Cas whispers, and for the very first time, a teardrop actually falls on the paper.

He recoils, tries to rub it off, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the rest of the cards are fine. This one just got a little smudged. He’s going to have to pay more attention.

He reads on.

“There’s this song, Cas. Simple man, by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I like to listen to it, when I’m lonely. Maybe because it’s one of the only songs I can play. I hope it’ll make you feel better. And, uh, I told Sammy I was doing this thing where I write you these cards for your birthday? And he suggested I suggest Coffins. By Bohnes. (Huh, just noticed the name thing. That’s cool)”

Cas has heard the song before. But it’s never quite struck him so hard.

‘When the man in black, comes to cash his check;

And you’re holding on to your final breath.

When you walk out the door, know that I will too.

I hope they build coffins for two.’

Fuck, he misses Dean so much.

He misses holding him, and he misses cupping his face and he misses kissing his lips, and he misses every bit of Dean he’s ever gotten to have, and is never going to, again. Cas needs him. He cannot imagine not having him here, forever.

Cas doesn’t know why he does it, but he reads on. He has to finish this.

“You really deserve to be so, so happy, Cas. I have said that before, but obviously you wouldn’t just have read it, so I get to say it again. You’re one of the best people I know, and you’re my best friend, and thank you for being a part of my life. I know it feels like you’re alone right now, Cas, but you’re always going to have me. I promise I’ll be there.”

“You won’t.” Cas shakes, starting to cry all over again.

He really won’t.

“I’ll text you, and I’ll call you, and I’ll wait for you right here, but you’re not coming back, Dean.“ Cas grits out. "Why aren’t you coming back?” His voice breaks with the last words.

All he can do is turn the page and start to read the last words he’s ever going to have, from Dean.

“Cas, if you really made it all the way to the last card of this bunch, you’re probably going to need more than words. Go (come?) into my room, okay? You need a Dean Winchester hug, buddy. I’m pretty much I’m the only thing that can make this right ;) Love ya.”

In the words of the love of his life, Sonuvabitch.

That hurt the most. He agrees, of course he agrees, Dean’s the only one who can make it better. And that’s the thing.

He can’t.

That was the last letter.

“No, no, no -” Cas begins to repeat in a frenzy, his eyes widening in horror as he got up to his feet. He tries flipping to the next page, but it’s over. That’s the last thing Dean ever said to him. It was his last suggestion. “No, no -”

His last words had been love you. They’d actually, unironically, been the words Cas most needed.

And also, the worst possible way to say goodbye.

Cas had started to walk, as he panicked. His breaths come out in ragged sobs, as he stares up at the sky.

Come find me, Dean could just have said.

“I love you.” Cas cries, and he actually cries too. “You can’t be gone, Dean. Please don’t be gone, I -” He keeps on shouting at the skies, until his throat closes up, and he stops, the cold metal railing of the balcony now against his hip. He freezes. The only thing between him and falling, is this railing.

Oh, it’s so fucking cold.

“I need you, please!” Cas begs, but he knows it’s of no use at all. Dean Winchester is gone. He’s dead. “I need you, Dean. I need you to come back and make this better like you just said you would.” His entire body shakes with his violent sobs.

He grips onto the railing tighter. And leans ahead, raising his eyes to the clouds, tipping his head back. “How can I live without you, Dean? How will I even get up in the mornings - you’re it for me, Dean, please -”

His voice breaks again, and he starts to cough.

“I,” He chokes out, as if for the last time ever saying it as though Dean is before him. “I love you.” And how his ears ache to hear it back, and how his skin tingles with the fading memory of Dean being near. “I love you so much.” He breathes out, screwing his eyes shut, and simply falling silent.

He’s run out of words. And he waits until he runs out of tears.

It’s dark, when Cas finally leaves the railing. When he stumbles back, his feet are unsure of where to go, but his breathing is finally even. Though even his eyes are tired. But he can’t think anymore. He’s numb.

He’d stopped feeling, almost an hour ago, but the tears hadn’t stopped.

So he’d just stood there, unmoving, thinking endlessly about how close he’d been to jumping. How tempted he was to do it. He wasn’t even scared - in that moment, he had nothing to live for. The only reason he didn’t, was because he was struck with the intensity of the guilt he’d leave her with.

On November 8th, Castiel would’ve killed himself, if he’d not promised Charlie that he’d be back.

He gets to her flat in another hour, and when he knocks, it’s like she knows. She just says, "I’m so sorry, Cas,” and wraps her arms around him tight, pulling him close to her warmth. It’s almost like she’s sorry Cas isn’t with Dean right now.

Cas hugs her back, trying to comfort her. After all, he won’t be away from Dean too long.

#ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #death #MCD #TW: death #dean winchester angst #castiel angst #charlie bradbury #sam winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #spn angst #long post #destiel angst #destiel college au #open when #tw: suidice #spn college au

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years

Note

For the 'Bad Things Happen Bingo' can I suggest Infected wound with Geraskier and some angsty Jaskier whump? Maybe Jaskier gets a hit when protecting/helping Geralt on a hunt and doesn't treat it well enough so Geralt has to step in when infection starts to affect Jaskier? Just a suggestion everything you do is great anyways so just do what you want!

I’ve probably spent wayy longer than I should have delving into lore here, but it was worth it. I hope you like it, even though I haven’t really written much of The Witcher yet. It doesn’t help that I haven’t met Jaskier in the books/game yet, which has caught me out a bit. Thank you so much for requesting and your words!

Prompt: Infected Wound ( @badthingshappenbingo )

Characters: Geralt/Jaskier

Warnings: Kikimore worker, violence, infection, swearing

----------

Jaskier was humming again.

Geralt watched as Jaskier strummed his lute alongside Roach, as they moved through yet another bog. The local village had complaints of a monster stalking the place, and as per usual, Jaskier tagged along with the Witcher, despite very strong recommendations to stay at the inn.

By the description of survivors, Geralt had already made an assumption on what this monster could be, and had coated his blade in an oil as he was riding.

As the bog became murkier, the ground became softer, making it harder for Roach to move through the mud. Thus, Geralt dismounted and hitched Roach against a tree. Sifting through his saddlebag, he pulled out a small vial. He pulled the cork off and downed the liquid in one.

“What’s that one for?” Jaskier had stopped a few paces ahead, slowly walking backwards as to keep an eye on Geralt.

“Improves my senses.”

Jaskier pulled an approving face. “I could use one of those.”

“Hmm...”

Geralt patted Roach’s nose and walked up to Jaskier, who swung his lute over his shoulder. “This place does not feel very friendly.” They began to approach a large lake.

As Jaskier continued to ramble, Geralt could feel the effects of the potion take place, and his ears caught a new, but not unfamiliar noise. “Jas...” he warned, a hand coming to the belt of his scabbard on his torso. He was ready to pull his sword into his awaiting palm. Jaskier continued to chatter, mostly to himself. “Jaskier!”

He turned his head at the sound of his name. At the same time, the water in front of them exploded, a monster rearing its head. “Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice trembled. The monster turned its head towards the noise and spat defensively.

It hit Jaskier in the leg, causing his body to buckle at the sudden pain. He watched as Geralt sprang into action, clutching his thigh.

Whatever that was, it wasn’t water.

He crawled backwards until he could lay his back against a tree, shoving his lute aside so he wouldn’t squash it. He was too terrified to look at the damage to his leg, and more importantly, his trousers.

In a spurt of a ‘fuck it’ attitude, he looked down. His skin was seared and red, burning hot and freezing cold seemingly at the same time. He took off his jacket and tried to wipe the substance off of the wound, before wrapping and tying it around his leg. He rested his head against the back of the tree, taking deep breaths.

A growling shriek caught Jaskier’s attention moments after. Geralt had impaled the monster on his silver blade. Thank Melitele, he thought to himself. When all went silent, Geralt’s footsteps resounded through the bog. “Jaskier.” He crouched beside the bard.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a twinge. Now, help me up.” Jaskier reached his arm out to meet Geralt’s. “What was that?”

“It was a sub-class kikimore. A worker.”

“Uh-huh, and what do they spit at people who talk too loud?”

“Acid.”

Geralt made it back to Roach with Jaskier’s arm over his shoulder and his lute in his free hand. “Get on Roach.”

Formerly speechless, Jaskier looked at him, wide eyed and hiding a smirk. “Did you just say what I thought you just said?”

Wordlessly, Geralt supported Jaskier’s weight as he wrestled the saddle. He took Roach’s reins in his hand to lead her back to town. “How is it?” He was referring to Jaskier’s leg.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. A bit of ointment will do the trick.”

“Herbalist it is, then.”

----------

The bog slowly dissipated as the ground became sturdier and the air became lighter. The beaten path was wide; Geralt was sure that he was nearing the town. “Um, Geralt?” He turned to see Jaskier squinting. “How many paths are in front of us?”

“Only one.”

“Oh, okay, good, good. Because I see about five.” Geralt stopped Roach just in time for him to catch Jaskier on his quick descent to the ground. He dragged him to the side of the path and sat him against a (different) tree.

“You said you were fine.”

Jaskier huffed a small laugh. “I mean, I was.”

Geralt unwrapped the temporary binding around Jaskier’s leg. Immediately, Geralt sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He stood straight and moved to Roach, digging around in his saddlebags. He returned with a small wooden circular container and some clean bandages.

“We were almost back to town, anyway. Thought I could last.” Jaskier began sweat beads down his temples, leaving trails on his pale skin.

Geralt twisted the cap off of the container, revealing a white cream. He dipped his fingers in before applying a generous amount to the weeping wound. Jaskier gasped. “Fuck!” Instinctively, he grabbed Geralt’s wrist to stop him from putting more on.

Not really knowing how to comfort him, Geralt spoke with uncertainty. “Um, I should’ve probably warned you; this will hurt.”

Jaskier glared at him. “Good to know.” Reluctantly, he released his wrist. For the entire time, Jaskier seemingly held his breath as Geralt covered the wound with the ointment.

Once or twice, Geralt caught Jaskier’s conscious waning. “Stay awake, Jas.”

The bandages were wrapped expertly around Jaskier’s leg and tied tightly. Pulling his arm over his shoulders, Geralt rose to his feet, placing Jaskier on Roach’s haunches, before sliding into the saddle himself. He willed her into a gallop, hoping he could get to someone before he would need to resort to more desperate measures, before the foreign tightness in his chest becomes too much to bear.

#the witcher #infected wound #badthingshappenbingo

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johannesviii · 4 years

Text

Top 12 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2000

This was the hardest list to make so far, so yeah, it’s a top twelve because I felt disgusting cutting the last two songs. Oh well. Screw the rules.

I turned 12 that year! I had my own cd player, which was also a radio! I could make tapes and burn cds. I could even BUY cds too if I saved all my money for a couple of months! School wasn’t great, because of some bullies, but I still had some friends. I loved Pokemon and drawing in the park. Life felt good.

Music had never sounded better.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

Not gonna lie, this list changed A LOT over the course of this post and I had to rearrange it several times. And then I gave up and changed it into a top 12. Also, this list of honorable mentions could almost make it a top 20 since several of these (half of them, actually) were on the top at some point.

All the small things (Blink 182) - I’m really glad these guys are still around today, to be honest. They always make me smile when I hear their new songs on the radio.

The Riddle (Gigi d’Agostino) - Love it, but it loses some of its appeal without the music video.

Lady (Modjo) - I claim overplay for this cut.

L’Alizé (Alizée) - More on that later.

Move your body (Eiffel 65) - Would have made the list in a more mediocre year, I swear.

Optimistique-moi (Mylène Farmer) - I literally said “self-care” before making this cut. Also the music video is great, it’s an artist trying to escape from some sort of nightmare circus, and a magician helps her. Very underrated music video.

Music (Madonna) - The most painful cut of all. I absolutely loved this song and how weird and disjointed and broken it sounded, and had it on several tapes. And yet there’s no room for it even with a top 12.

And now, the actual list. Warning: it starts with a curveball.

12 - J’pète les plombs (Disiz La Peste)

US: Not on the list / FR: #29

A French rap song about a guy losing his job and being stuck in traffic and subsequently going postal.

Here’s the kicker, though. This guy was rapping for my city, and this music video was filmed mostly in the estate I was living in at the time! That McDonalds at the beginning? It was across the street! That bus stop was in front of high school! Heck, I painted the rocks in that park at the end several times already!

And it became a huge hit!! You have no idea how excited we were in middle school. Everyone knew the lyrics (translation here)! Even if some parts were very rude! We still loved it! We were quoting the entirety of the McDonalds part where the guy wants an egg in his sandwich and is ready to fire a harpoon to get it. “Désolé, il est midi et après midi eh ben l’mac morning c’est fini” was a goddamn meme here.

It would probably have been less funny if the singer didn’t look like a cute nerd, it turns the music video into a hilarious parody. Especially because instead of a gun, he’s menacing people with a harpoon, a giant wooden hammer and a water pistol.

Legends only.

11 - One More Time (Daft Punk)

US: Not on the list / FR: #30

Around the World was a repetitive song, and while I kinda liked it, I didn’t quite get the hype around it at the time. But One More Time is a huge party, and everybody is invited, and all the drama stays at the door, and everyone just has a great time. And it has one of the most fitting music videos ever.

It’s a monster of a song, and even if it’s still a bit too repetitive to be listened to on a loop, it was a delight everytime it was on the radio. And it still is! Godspeed, Daft Punk.

10 - Innamoramento (Mylène Farmer)

US: Not on the list / FR: #91

I really, really tried to keep her off the list. And I failed. Innamoramento, the album, is one of my favorite albums of one of my favorite French artists ever and I’m weak, and out of the five (five) singles out of that album, I only managed to leave two out of my top 10 lists.

This sounds absolutely fantastic. There’s no way I could kick it off the list, even to make room for a guy who was rapping for my estate. And not even for goddamn Daft Punk.

Kill me now.

9 - Absolutely (Nine Days)

US: #35 / FR: Not on the list

I discovered this song in 2008 through a Silent Hill 3 AMV about Heather. Yeppppp. It’s here, and it’s still great 11 years later, and I love it, and this song was so good I put it on my playlist immediately and it stayed on it for several years.

The lyrics never really deliver their promise of telling a “story”, but it’s still a fantastic, bouncy, uplifting song, and it made my world better, and I have to thank that ephemeral band for that.

And I especially loved the very brief pause before the last “girl” in the song. Very relatable.

8 - J’en rêve encore (De Palmas)

US: Not on the list / FR: #27

Listen. I have no idea what’s up with these specific chords, but they are the sound of a weird mix of nostalgia, anger and above all, discomfort. No other song has the exact colors this one has and no other broadcasts this very specific mixed feeling.

Too bad the lyrics are yet another breakup song, or more specifically a post-breakup song (even if the lyrics are very, very good ; I just checked who wrote them and it’s Jean-Jacques Goldman. I had no idea but now, I can definitely hear it), because the music is really something else. At least to me. Is anyone else hearing this?

7 - The Real Slim Shady (Eminem)

US: #51 / FR: #28

Wow. Would you look at that. The ex angsty angry teenager loved Eminem. What a surprise, uh.

To be honest, I already genuinely liked this song as a kid even if I could only understand a few isolated parts and words, and the fact that this guy was pissed off and clearly being offensive, possibly towards everyone, was enough.

Now that I can understand the lyrics entirely, I obviously don’t endorse all of them (like the very backhanded argument for gay marriage. Jesus), but I can’t help it, this song still kicks ass. It would be dishonest to leave it out of the list. I loved it so much at the time. And I still enjoy it a lot.

6 - Natural Blues (Moby)

US: Not on the list. Not on any US year-end list actually. I thought it was big everywhere but no. What happened. / FR: #49

There’s overplay, and then there’s “I keep hearing this song everywhere and yet I can never get enough of it, and I will sing it at school, and I will put it on tapes, and I will listen to it even when it’s not on the radio.”

If you asked me what the year 2000 sounded like, it sounded like Natural Blues. I genuinely can’t believe it’s not on the US year-end chart.

5 - Around the World (ATC)

US: Not on the list / FR: #48

This has no right being this catchy without ever, ever becoming annoying. What kind of evil pact did you make to get this result. How.

4 - Jeune et Con (Saez)

US: Not on the list / FR: #70

The title is “Young and Stupid”. It’s an extremely angry song against the establishment. Didn’t pay a lot of attention to it when it came out because well, I was 12, but I would drink up this kind of angry, angsty song only three/four years later. It has aged like fine wine too and feels like the ultimate ‘Ok Boomer’ song ; here’s a translation. It is brutal. You’re welcome.

If I had better taste this would be above the next two songs.

3 - Daddy DJ (Daddy DJ)

US: Not on the list / FR: #5

As I said in the intro, I started to BUY music that year. I could pick what I wanted to own, as long as my parents thought the cds were appropriate.

So I went to the nearest record store. It was called “Madison” and had a chrome aesthetic, with neons and fluorescent 90s shit everywhere, and banners with band names on it, and somewhat menacing posters (the Iron Maiden ones looked scary). It was very intimidating.

And so, 12 years old Johannes, under dad’s supervision, picked the cd they wanted above all the other cds in the shop knowing THAT one wouldn’t make anyone angry at home, went towards the desk, slapped a lot of coins on it, and bought this, trying to look as fierce and determined a 12 y.o can, which isn’t much.

It still slaps nearly twenty years later and I don’t regret a single thing. That’s all I have to say about Daddy DJ by Daddy DJ.

So I was making this list, feeling pretty good about putting Mylène Farmer so low on it, and I was like oh wow, I genuinely love all these other songs more than the two she released that year! This feels great. This is healing. This is progress. It also means the most controversial things on the list are a nerd threatening people with a water pistol and Eminem spouting his usual bullshit empty provocations. No big deal. It’s okay! Moving on.

What was the French #1 for that year, by the way? I can’t rememb-

OH SHIT OH F█CK

OH NO

2 - Moi Lolita (Alizée)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1

Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.

Mylène Farmer wrote this for Alizée. Screw the entire universe. I want her off my lists but I can’t because I need to make them honestly.

“I’m not a sucker, I never bought the album AND I never bought these singles in a SHOP, I got them in a garage sale the next year for less that a quarter of the price”, says the person who is, in fact, clearly and definitely a sucker.

How can a song be so horribly catchy and horribly controversial at the same time. HOW. It’s unfair. For some context about how controversial this is if you’re an English speaker, this is what would happen if Bad Guy by Billie Eilish was the catchiest shit in the world. This was almost #1 on my list before I noticed my actual #1 song made it pretty high on the French year-end list despite being mysteriously absent from the US one.

Also I’m glad the music video provides a mostly harmless context: this girl is supposed to babysit her little sister, but she went dancing in a club. And the little sister is looking after her instead. I’m saying “mostly” harmless because there’s that creepy guy who keeps watching her, as if the story was saying “you should not do this and you are putting yourself in danger and this will end horribly”. Which is a sentiment I can definitely get behind, and at the time, I was already highly skeptical about the message this song was sending even if I loved it. I’m just judging that through the comments I was writing next to it on my “favorite songs” lists (”leave your little sister out of this, Alizée”):

Bonus: most relatable comment on the video by a mile.

Same, my dude.

This is why the first album I bought was Daddy DJ and not that one or, uh, the next one.

1 - Stan (Eminem)

US: Not on the list either?? What happened. Why / FR: #18

This song actually created a new English verb. Think about that for a second.

Also, until the end of my life, I will wonder why people suddenly decided, a couple of years ago, than “to stan” now meant “admiring a lot and being a huge fan of” instead of “being a creepy obsessed stalker and possibly dangerous”.

Anyhow.

I couldn’t understand one tenth of the lyrics at the time this was a hit, but I still sneakily put it on my tapes. I knew my parents disapproved. Oh, I liked it. I loved it. I adored it.

I was also terrified of it.

One of the only lines I clearly understood with my limited English was the “I’m your biggest fan” line, and how increasingly dangerous the guy sounded, and that Eminem was trying to answer him at the end but it was too late and he had already done some horrible shit.

This is a horror story in song form, it stays with you long after it’s over every time you listen to it, and it’s a rare and precious thing.

I’m still genuinely terrified after all these years, though.

Next up: another mix of embarrassing shit and valid stuff

#Johannes’ bad not good pretty terrible music lists #music #long post #eye contact tw

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mimymomo · 5 years

Text

Unremarkable, you? Never. ~ Angst Parr part 1

Oh look it’s me starting something new even though I haven��t finished the OTHER project I started...oops? But anyways here’s my angsty Parr fic that yes...has parrlyn in it. I have no self control.

It started off innocent enough.

“Can we get a picture with you all?” a teenage girl with blonde hair asked excitedly, her brunette friend shyly hiding behind her. A simple question that should’ve had a simple resolution.

“Sure thing, hun! Just let me nab the rest of the girls real quick and we’ll be all set,” Anne laughed, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from her forehead. She was beaming in the bright artificial lights. It had been a lively show that night, the Queens feeling the energy surging from the audience after every song. Jokes landing harder than usual resulting in an uproarious frenzy. Now they were ending the night by taking pictures and signing autographs for fans.

“Cathy!”

Catherine, finishing up signing another fans programme, turned back at the mention of her name to see the rest of the queens gathered around two teenage girls. Anne waved her hand wildly in the air, “Catherine Parr, hurry and come get in the picture!”

Catherine shook her head and smiled at her friends antics before walking over to the group. As walked closer, she could see the smiles on the two girls faces slowly change into frowns as they whispered to each other.

“Uhh well, we,” the brunette spoke up.

“We actually just wanted a picture with you five, without her...” the blonde completed.

Catherine froze in place. Not being wanted for a group picture? That had never happened before.

“You want a picture with us...but, without Catherine?” Katherine asked stunned.

“Yeah, that’s not-” Anne began but Catherine quickly cut her off.

“That’s fine, here,” Catherine said promptly reaching out to take the girl’s mobile phone,“I’ll take the picture.”

“Are you sure Catherine?” Aragon questioned with a sharp frown, not happy that one of them was being excluded.

Catherine waved her concern off with a flick of her wrist, “everything’s fine.” She displayed the best fake smile she could muster, “now, you all smile for me ‘kay?”

...

Catherine never really minded being the queen mostly in the background.

She kept her distance from the queen's most of the time, valuing her private free time whenever she could receive any. She stood to the sides for the majority of the show and let the other queens fight and squabble, only taking center stage when needed at the very end. She’d make her part, resolving the conflict and deliver the primary message of self-importance almost every night, eight times a week. That was enough for her.

So why was this one incident bothering her so much?

Catherine kept replaying that night over and over in her brain, the scene now firmly cemented into her subconscious. She tried not to let it get to her, or at least not visibly show that it was getting to her as the days passed. But here she was, days later, still wondering why she wasn’t wanted for a stupid photo. ‘Was I just not good enough?’

“-atherine. Catherine. CATHERINE!”

Cathy jumped at the sound of her name. Six pairs of eyes were glued to her, each mixed with different emotions ranging from amusement to dismay. “Yeah?”

“Jeez, we’ve been hollering your name for five minutes now! You’ve just been staring out the window,” Anne smirked, but Catherine could see the concern behind the look.

“Oh, sorry!” ‘Come on Catherine, get your head straight.’

“We’re at the studio love,” Jane cooed with a sympathetic smile. The queens along with the band and one of their alternates Grace were performing on a talk show that morning as a way to promote the show. ‘Great publicity’ their producers said when they pitched the idea.

“Can you believe I’m going to be on television? Me,” Anne squealed as they hopped out of the car and made their way into the studio venue.

“It’s a good thing that the rest of us are here or they’d immediately switch channels,” Aragon muttered under her breath. They walked into the tall, pristine building and where guided down some long halls until they reached the sound stage.

“Long night?” Grace asked sweetly.

“Yeah,” Catherine sighed, giving the taller woman a tired smile, “you could say that.”

“Ah, ladies welcome to the show!” An older gentleman cheered, arms high in the air with enthusiasm. His hair was dark and slicked back and he wore a black blazer over a white button up and dark slacks. His smile wide and cocky. “I’m the producer. Let me run through where you all will be placed.”

He guided the girls into the spots center stage, Jane and Catherine in the front, followed closely by Anne, Katherine and Anna. Cathy and Grace took up the back. He then began to position the girls in their places, “okay, Aragon here, then Boleyn, next, Seymour, Cleves, Howard...perfect!”

The producer turned towards Cathy and Grace, “and you two must be the understudies.”

“Oh, no actually I’m-” Catherine spoke up but was quickly silenced by the producer.

“Oh wait a second...of course, there’s six of you queens aren’t there? I always forget the last one. What was I thinking!” he said dramatically placing his hand on his forehead. “My mistake.”

The producer turned to Cathy, “dressing rooms for the band and company are back down the hall, but you’re welcome to watch.” He grabbed Grace’s hand and started pulling her over in the direction of the group leaving a mortified Catherine in her place, “now come on love.”

“But wait I’m not-”

“She’s not Catherine Parr,” Anne crossley spoke up from her position, marching over to Cathy who was still standing awkwardly in her spot, her face noticeably more disheartening and out of it than even before. She placed her arm around Cathy’s shoulder. “This is Catherine Parr here.”

The producer released Grace’s hand and walked back to Cathy and Anne. “My apologies Ms. Parr. I guess you just don’t manage to stand out as much compared to your fellow queens.”

Silence. The air in the room grew thick and the temperature dipped tens of degrees. Anne narrowed her eyes in an icy glare at the mans blunt comment. “What?” she asked in faux disbelief.

Aragon and Cleves and the rest of the girls made their way to the group of three. “I just meant that, well,” the man backed up, now somewhat understanding the predicament he had gotten into. “Surviving isn’t as memorable as well, being beheaded or dying after childbirth or being divorced over arbitrary reasons. That’s all.”

The ice turns to fire as things heat up between the Queens and the ignorant staff member. Catherine’s face was blank as she stared at the floor. She swears she can hear the other queens but their words just sound like ringing static, background noise to the blaring thoughts pounding and repeating in her head. ‘You just don’t manage to stand out as much compared to your fellow queens. Surviving isn’t as memorable. Don’t stand out. Isn’t memorable.’

Anne is trying her hardest not to hurl heinous insults at this producer when she feels Catherine remove her arm from her shoulder.

“Actually, I believe Grace should fill in for me this performance. Not feeling so hot.”

“Cathy?” Anne questions, shocked.

“It’s fine, Grace you can handle this right?” Grace hesitantly nodded her head and Parr gave her a smile that shined nowhere near as bright as usual. “Alright then.”

Anne reached out and gripped Catherine’s forearms, her fingers digging in her skin slightly. “Catherine, is this what you want. Are you okay with this?”

Catherine nodded her head, eyes refusing to meet Anne’s, “just got a bit of a headache that’s all.” Catherine gathers some courage and locked eyes with Anne, “better to be on the safe side right?”

“If that’s what you want then okay, right Anne?” Jane comments picking up on the tension between the two.

Anne stares into Catherine’s eyes for a second longer before turning away and bringing down her hands. “Yeah,’ she laments still bewildered and not entirely convinced by Catherine’s words.

“There seem to be a problem here?” another producer for the show asked, stumbling into the unsuspecting war zone.

“Everything’s fine,” Catherine responds. She pulled away from Anne and backtracked a few steps back. “You lot do your best okay?”

The Queens along with Grace gave half hearted affirmations except for Anne, who was oddly silent. The second producer redirected their attention to begin soundcheck and Catherine walks out the double doors, the instrumentals sounding distant and disjointed the further she walked.

The performance goes off without a hitch. Catherine watched her girls and Grace sing and dance their hearts out from the flat screen mounted high on the wall in the studios green room. Each movement was perfectly in step and no note was out of pitch. In a way , seeing them all perform fine without her, Catherine felt worse than before. ‘They don’t need you. They have Grace and Courtney and Vicki. You’re not special.’

Catherine hastily shook her head, as if the harder she shook the faster the idea would fly out her head. But throughout the day it was always there, like a parasitic leech sucking out every positive thought in her brain.

Tag: @a-slightly-cracked-egg

#six the musical #catherine parr #parrlyn #anne boleyn #anna of cleves #catherine of aragon #katherine howard #jane seymour

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eclipticcal · 5 years

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postcards - part 1 (ch)

a/n: hey loves sooo this is gonna be part one to my first series !!! this is based off the song postcard by troye sivan - hope you all enjoy <3

warnings: swearing & slight smut ??? mostly just angsty cal and y/n

requested: no, but requests are open !!

prompt: in which calum sends you an abundance of postcards from each of his tour stops, but you can’t bring yourself to respond after past actions that can’t be made up for

————————

this morning i received yet another postcard from calum. i had gotten one from every tour stop so far. this one was from tokyo. i read over calums messy, yet legible handwriting that once again stated that he loved me and missed me, but i couldn’t reciprocate those feelings anymore.

every single time i got another postcard from another foreign place, i thought of the feelings that i’d hoped to have forgotten by now. the cards always read the same:

dear y/n,

i love you and i miss you so fucking much. i know you read these. please respond

love, cal

those last two words always got me. “love, cal”. he couldn’t love me. not after what he did that night.

and i never know how to handle them. no matter how many letters i receive, i still can’t bring myself to respond to them. but at the same time, every time i hold one in my hand and read over the words again and again my heart starts to race and butterflies form in my stomach and i remember what it’s like to be with calum. and that’s where the pain starts. because calum was my everything, and now i can’t even bear to hear his name without getting an uneasy feeling in my stomach all because of some drunken mistake that i’ve chosen not to forgive.

*flashback*

i walked into the house party that andy decided to host in celebration for the first show of tour being complete.

it was supposed to be a surprise that i was here. i had wanted to congratulate calum on his new tour that had been off to a great start, and what better than to surprise him on tour.

as i entered through the two grand, white doors, i was greeted with the scent of hard liquor, which was to be expected. my eyes scanned the crowd, littered with couples grinding up against each other, the place where i hoped to end up with cal.

that’s when my eyes landed on ashton, leaning against a wall, red solo cup in hand, with his shirt half unbuttoned. as i walked towards him i started to feel increasingly uncomfortable with my surroundings. the loud music pounded against my ear drums, barely allowing myself any space to think. as i approached him, his eyes caught mine and a smile flashed on his face as he closed the distance between us with a hug, making me slightly more comfortable due to the familiarity of his scent.

“hey y/n, how’ve you been?” ashton giggled as the words spilled out of his mouth. it was apparent that he was very drunk, as he stumbled away from the hug, as was everyone around us.

“i’m good ash, do you know where cal is?” i asked, uncertain he’d be able to form a coherent answer due to his current state. but i was proven wrong as ashton lazily pointed his finger towards the sliding glass doors at the back of the room.

“he just went outside with a few people for a smoke” ashton shouted over the music, his smile slightly fading as he turned himself towards the table filled with cups and drinks next to him. he poured some indistinguishable alcohol into the cup, handing it to me, “but before you go, take this”

i took the cup from his hand and took a small sip before setting off towards the backdoors, it was vodka. i hated vodka. before i reached the back door, i set the cup down on the nearest table, wanting to rid myself of the substance immediately.

as i slid open the glass doors, i was met with the cool, fresh air hitting my face. i had only been in the house for a few minutes but i found myself enjoying the much needed break from the scent of alcohol. i stepped onto the wooden porch and scanned the back for calum. and that’s when i saw him, grasping another girls waist to bring it close to his own. i watched as his lips grazed hers, the taste of alcohol dancing on their lips. his lips moved from hers down to her neck, as she let out a soft moan, letting her head fall back and her hands slide down his chest. a wave of jealousy came over my body, that should be me. my skin turned pale and suddenly, i couldn’t see straight. my dizziness brought me to my hands and knees as i crawled to the side of the patio to try and regain my composure. all i could think is that should be me.

a man standing near calum took in my appearance and became familiar with my state of panic before yelling over to me, “hey are you okay?” causing everyone in the area to look up from their activities and towards me — including calum.

he paused his rendezvous with the mystery girl and looked up, revealing numerous bruises covering his neck. when his eyes met mine, his entire demeanor took a turn. his hands left the girls waist as he moved her hands to push her off of himself. he went into panic. whenever he was panicking he would make frantic movements, and that’s exactly what he was doing. his hands flew up to his hair to run his fingers through it nervously. even in his drunken state, he’d known he fucked up.

he stumbled towards me, and as his hands landed in mine to help me sit up, his eyes met my teary ones. he opened his mouth as if to talk but closed it again. he collected his thoughts before saying the five fatal words you were expecting to fall from his mouth, “it’s not what you think.”

and then i got up, and without saying a word i turned towards the half open sliding glass doors. i knew once i went through those doors it was all over. no matter how much i wanted to let him explain himself i know it would just hurt more. so without turning back, i walked through the doors. and it was over.

*end flashback*

the memories of the night flooded over me as i prepared myself for a decision that would change it all.

“you okay?” i heard from behind me as i turned around to be greeted by my roommate, addie.

“yeah” i dryly responded as i explained to her that i’d received another postcard. she understood the pain i’d been enduring since she’d been there for time the entire time i was dealing with this situation.

“why don’t you just text him,” she offered, “at this point i don’t think he’s gonna stop if you keep ignoring him. i mean he’s kept going for almost 20 shows.”

“i know, i just don’t want to fall back in love with him and have to deal with the pain all over again,” i lowly muttered.

“i think you should try. just tell him you want him to stop and you want to move on,” she suggested.

“but i don’t want to move on. something has me stuck on him,” i retorted.

addie searched my eyes for any sense of anger towards him, but she found none. all she saw was a broken girl looking for answers, “then tell him that.”

and with that she gave me a pat on the back and returned to her activities. i thought about her advice and decided that maybe i should let him explain himself. so i sat down with my phone and clicked on his contact. all of my old text messages with him resurfaced, reminding me of how much i really did miss him. so i started typing.

y/n: hey cal, i know it’s been awhile since we’ve talked but i’ve been getting your postcards and i think we should talk. call me when you can.

i put my phone back into my pocket and opened my laptop as i started to type a report for one of my college courses. my phone was burning a hole in my pocket, and as every minute passed, i would periodically check my phone for a response. thirty minutes had passed before i had finally received what i’d been waiting for.

calum: hey love

love. he always used to call me love. it made my heart melt every time he said it and it still does. why does he have this effect on me? a second text.

calum: i’ll call you in a few

now i was freaking out. it’d been months since i’d heard his voice, since we’d talked, and i didn’t know how to prepare myself. my phone started vibrating, as i looked down at the called id and saw a familiar picture of calum and i kissing pop up, the butterflies rushed to my stomach. i never changed the picture. after a few rings i hesitantly picked up, “hello?”

“hey love,” calum breathed out. love. there it was again.

“calum-“ i had just barely started my sentence, but he knew me too well to know i’d start rambling if he didn’t stop me while i was ahead.

“i know i have a lot of explaining to do, but listen. the asian wing of tour ends tomorrow and i’m flying back to la the next day and we have a few days off. i’d much rather speak to you in person. i’m so sorry i did this to you, but i need to explain this face to face, please.” i could hear the desperation in his voice. i knew all he wanted was a chance to explain himself these past few months and this was his one chance. i can’t believe i’m giving in to him.

“okay. i guess that’s fine, but calum you really fucked me up. i cant believe i’m giving you a second chance right now, please don’t fuck it up again.” i begged him. i couldn’t help but feel the need to hold his hand in mine.

“i promise i won’t, y/n. i’ve hurt you enough. i’ll meet you at the cafe on the corner by my house on monday. i’ll text you when i’m going. is that okay?” he was being so soft with me. i could tell that he knew he messed up, but he sounded so sincere with his words that i didn’t know what to believe.

i took a deep breath and reluctantly agreed, “okay,”

“okay,” he responded as he let out a shaky breath, and i could hear the smile on his face as he repeated, “okay”

—————————

a/n: soooo that was part 1 !! ik it’s probably really poorly edited cuz i did it all myself but i hope you enjoyed reading !! feel free to request suggestions for where u want this story to go - ily all & thank u sm for reading

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sweetshadcw · 5 years

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i’m LAME we been knew okay ? i wasn’t feeling manuela anymore but i still liked some aspects of her character so i revamped her sjghf anyway here’s my new(ish) baby savannah ! you know the drill, message me or like this post and i’ll come to you for plots !

[ MUSE 95 ] ●● is that HAILEE STEINFELD ? no, that’s just SAVANNAH WARD - LOWELL, the 21 year old CISFEMALE who is a VOCALIST. some say they’re RESTLESS AND SCATTERBRAINED, but their family and friends will swear they’re CHARISMATIC AND GREGARIOUS. when i think of them, i think of the warmth of a cable knit sweater, forgetting the lyrics to your own song, blue fairy lights strung up on the wall, photobooth videos at two in the morning, dancing alone in your room . i wonder if HER family knows that SHE GOT KICKED OUT OF COLLEGE. ●●

QUICK STATS !

full name: savannah page reyes ward-lowell

nickname(s): sav

age: twenty-one

date of birth: march 14th

zodiac sign: pisces

place of birth: ashcroft, ma

gender: cisfemale

sexual orientation: pansexual

romantic orientation: panromantic

occupation: lead vocalist for blue haven

language(s) spoken: english

hogwarts house: hufflepuff

ABOUT SAVANNAH !

so savannah’s biological parents were two teenagers who were absolutely not ready to become parents. her birth dad immediately broke up with her birth mom, amy upon learning about her pregnancy. amy never wanted kids in the first place, but she did her best to raise amy until she was about three years old.

at this point, the stress of college and being a mom (among other things) really fucked with amy’s mental health. fortunately, the ward-lowells were family friends of theirs, and since they’ve always wanted to have kids of their own, she allowed them to adopt savannah. that way, she was still able to be with her daughter without technically having to be her mother.

anyway, she’s always been a social butterfly. during her high school years, she was quite popular — not in the sense that she was part of the “in” crowd, but rather because she had a lot of friends. her happy-go-lucky and confident persona was what made her likeable to most. if there was anyone who could successfully liven up a party, it’s sav.

ngl savannah ?? mess !! just a big ol’ mess. she’s always been sort of a scatterbrain (she gets it from her dad) but it was especially heightened during her childhood, which led to her being diagnosed with adhd, which for the most part she manages to control (although she sometimes forgets to take her medication,,,,)

sav has always been in love with music the moment since she first touched one of those toy microphones (you know the ones), and she’s pretty proficient at the piano and guitar (bass, specifically). and thankfully her closest friends shared the same interests, because around the middle of her junior year, they started their band, blue haven.

okay so her secret is that she was kicked out of her college. lately she’s been prioritizing her music over everything else in her life and because of this, she allowed her grades to slip which ultimately led to her academic failure and getting kicked out. literally no one knows about it, and she has no intention of telling anyone yet. to be fair, she didn’t really want to go to college in the first place so ??

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

( 0/3 ) bandmates: i will make this a wc on the main like i did with mannie but oh god PLEASE give me the rest of blue haven. there are four of them in total. there’s a guitarist/backup vocalist, a keyboardist, and sophie’s the drummer while sav’s the lead vocalist and occasionally plays the bass. they’ve been best friends since god knows when (probably middle school) and it was actually their keyboardist who suggested they become a band.

( 0/1 ) good influence: i mean, sav’s a good person already, but this person tries to make sure that she’s on top of her shit at all times. she helps her manage her time and tells her when something needs more prioritizing. they’ll probably be like,,, part of the top five people who would be the most disappointed in savannah when they learn that she got kicked out.

( 0/1 ) bad influence: her ENABLER. if her good influence builds sav up, this one just tells her to fuck it all. while their intentions aren’t necessarily bad, they have a really bad way of encouraging her (“sav this gig is important, it could totally help with your career. who cares if you don’t study tonight? it’s just one test.”)

( 0/?? ) exes: savannah swings in all directions so ya know give me anything !! exes who are still friends !! exes with lingering feelings !! ANGSTY EXES !!

( 0/?? ) fans: not like actual fans lmao, but like maybe people who’ve been to some of their gigs and like their sound. they only have a few songs (like maybe one or two that sav wrote) and mostly perform covers but they’re supportive of the band and are excited to see what they have in store.

literally anything pls love me and my baby !!

#╰ SAVANNAH ↷ about.#in memoriam

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

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HS Epi Meat, page 4 reaction

So, is John going to zap to the next plot point now, or will it switch back to Earth C?

I wonder, if it's the latter, whether we might see something from an antagonist, or a less important character, like Jack Noir or GCATavrosprite. And if the former, I wonder if John will venture further into (a retconned version of) the Game Over timeline, or not?

---

"You arrive in the Land of Heat and Clockwork in a flash of white." OOOoooh, LOHAC! Will he visit Dave - well, presumably yes. But will he revisit the moment he zapped back to, when he came to ask for help regarding his retcon powers?

... I kind of like Blaperile's idea better, that he revisits the point in time he disrupted before, the conversation between Dave & Jade, but which he afterwards retconned again, sending himself to go find Roxy? ... Wait, it was never really explained where that John that bapped himself on the head came from, I swear, if this is (out-of-comic) retconned as having been this 23-year-old John... Okay, I might have forgotten if Rx John had already gone back. ... Okay yeah, it already happened. Page 8333 vs 9047 of Homestuck. Anyway...

Hmm, GO Dave never used the eggsword much in the end (Caledfwlch), as he went after Jade's body and tied to a critical devilbeast combo. But I don't think John'll take it?

"Through the condensation you can make out the shapes of Dave and Jade below, as well as two more of you hovering in the air above. Both Johns turn to look at you." PFfffffff, of course he draws his other selves attention. Why would it resolve so cleanly as they zapping away in the background. Dave had a fit before when he saw one, but now, if he'll acknowledge all three...

"On the ground, Dave is talking in a particular cadence, one that is familiar to you, his longtime best buddy. Casual, wandering, verging on droning. It’s a good indication he’ll be monologuing for a while, and probably already has been." Yeah, GO Dave was summing up all the reasons he didn't particularly want to do anything about LE. Retconned Dave just thought he should fulfill the prophecy to get it over with, but that's about the end of his commitment in the matter too. Only Davepetasprite^2 really felt like going up against LE. Will Caledfwlch make it into their hands?

"DAVE: thats what...DAVE: you do...DAVE: with..." Awesome, he even gets trailed off at exactly the same moment in his monologue. :D

"DAVE: karate. john what the fuck are you doing hereDAVE: or... waitDAVE: actually three johnsDAVE: hey three johns what the fuck are three johns doing here" Dave is so whatever about this, it's hilarious. Then again, he's been all around LOHACSE thrice in a single day, he's got some experience in the matter of walking around alt time selves.

Also, I wonder if Dave (and Jade) will notice he's an older version of John. If not, his god tier powers probably keep him youthful, like Superman.

"It’s a fair question, which logically should have been directed to the oldest and most knowledgeable John. Nevertheless, one of the younger Johns replies first." Pfff, the second oldest one then? The one that came back here with a semblance of purpose, not randomly zapping through canon? Plus, if Dave wouldn't notice a difference between the Johns, neither would the younger ones.

"(JOHN 1): er.(JOHN 1): i don’t know." Ooooh! Cool, not just are they parenthesed, the Johns are now also numbered! Yeah, we wouldn't want them to just all be named John, that'd be insane and probably what Jade went through with PCG & FCG from her end (aka two ?CG's).

"JOHN 3: john, don’t worry about it. i’ll take things from here.DAVE: johns dont get me wrong its cool that you all randomly dropped by again but this wasnt really the best time" Hah, yeah John, try and get that semblance of knowing what you're doing back, like you acted out on LOPAN against your past selves. I'm actually interested to see whether he will be as dismissive towards his other selves as back then. Right, this is the second time Dave saw John, after the time he dropped in when Dave was looking at his old photographs.

"DAVE: we were kind of in the middle of a thing here(JOHN 1): whoops. sorry.(JOHN 2): uh... actually, i only came here to swoop in and zap this john away without being seen, to retcon away the mess i made earlier.(JOHN 2): i didn’t expect to see another john here.

JOHN 3: hey, other john, i said i’ll handle it!

JOHN 3: i’m the only one who actually knows what’s going on here.DAVE: god damn it johns what the fuck did you do" John 1 fucked it up, John 2 would've fixed things but then John 3 came back and fucked up some more. It's like the goddamned Primer movie all over again.

"JOHN 3: young dave, please.

JOHN 3: let me deal with the johns first, then i’ll explain.DAVE: young dave???" Why did that make me think of WV's polite commands. "Sir John" and all that. :P I think the other Johns will be able to get resolved easily enough, one zapping the other away to bop him in the head, both confused over the mess they left behind.

"DAVE: ohDAVE: yeah why are you a fucking adult now" OOOOOOh, nice! Okay, even though it'll be all shades of awkward, I really like the age difference isn't getting skimmed over.

"DAVE: did you grow up and start time traveling dude" Take that, reverse it.

"JADE: will someone tell me what the fuck is happening???????" Oh right, Grimbark Jade's text colour thingy!

"JOHN 3: johns, there’s no reason for you to hang around anymore.

JOHN 3: not to sound like a wet blanket, but the things you’re trying to accomplish are now useless, so you can just zap away and do whatever you want.(JOHN 1): ummm...(JOHN 2): useless?? wait." Harsh much, John. Also, just cause they won't/aren't you, they can just go become you, or whatever how you want to put it.

"JOHN 3: ok, maybe i shouldn’t have said that.

JOHN 3: i’m sure you can still go and do what i did when i originally did what you’re currently trying to do...DAVE: jesus john" Dave's inner time logistician is crying. John's retcon powers are so OP, he doesn't have to take any care in keeping time loops going if he doesn't want to. But that'd just result in copies of him flying around, so he'd best to just send them on their way, hopefully never to run into them again.

JOHN 3: in fact, it will still probably be a very rewarding experience!

JOHN 3: some of my best memories happened right after you do what you’re about to do next." I was thinking of the meet-up with his friends in general, but yeah, it's probably mostly about meeting Roxy, which is the closest thing to happen to (John 1)'s point in time.

"JOHN 3: the point is, you should just go do it, so that you aren’t here anymore." Savage.

"JOHN 3: i’m here to make sure some new and different important things happen, and those things don’t include you.

JADE: :|(JOHN 1): oh...(JOHN 2): ...ok.

The useless Johns zap away. You sincerely hope that they have a beautiful and fulfilling youth." ... That's not what your mouth ended up conveying there, John. Nor your thoughts, I mean, "useless", dear god man, have some alt self respect. :P

"DAVE: adult john what the fuck have you doneDAVE: is this some time travel shitDAVE: please dont tell me youve been spending the next however many years bungling through time like this because tbh if what i just witnessed was even remotely indicative of shit you get up to on a recurring basis then your future is almost too embarrassing to even think aboutDAVE: and this is coming from a teenager who was just in the middle of an angsty episode" Self aware Dave tirades are still the best. :D

"JOHN: i used my retcon abilities to travel here from the future, in a manner of speaking.DAVE: sounds fuckin stupidJOHN: it is stupid. but that’s just how things are." Glad they can agree to agree on that very valid assessment. :P

"JADE: im a little confused

JADE: im supposed to be hunting you down and capturing you... but im not sure if the adult version of you counts?

JADE: i think the condesce might just be... confused if i brought her an adult john?" Oooh, is this conflicting with her "programming" some how? Doggy Jade is confused, that's actually intruiging that she's given pause.

"JOHN: no, you don’t need to capture me, and you wouldn’t be able to even if you wanted to, since my existence literally transcends the confines of canon.

JADE: well...

JADE: i guess that simplifies things then?" John bullshitting his way to victory over people smarter than him, it remains a sight to behold.

JADE: in that case, would you mind giving me and dave a few minutes to wrap up our conversation?" XD Lol, wut????? Hahahah, Paradox Space really can only handle so much derailment to a timeline. At some point it just throws up it's arms and goes "leave me be, for five minutes, I was busy here!"

"JADE: we were sort of in the middle of something important... i thinkJOHN: no, you really weren’t.JOHN: sorry to be the bearer of lame news, like i just was to the other johns.JOHN: but whatever you were doing doesn’t matter anymore.JOHN: nothing that’s happening here matters at all.JOHN: this session, this whole takeover by the condesce... this isn’t how a universe gets made.

JADE: its not?JOHN: no." Sorry to break it to ya, but you're in a doomed timeline.

"DAVE: so what nowDAVE: if its all a done deal like preemptively speakingDAVE: can we all just relax or whatJOHN: actually...JOHN: no." Okay... So, what, can he just recruit these guys off and zap off with them to the next plot point? Won't something have to be done about the grimbarkness first? Also, if the next plot point is in the same timeline... Game Over really gets derailed. No Jade, no swapping Derse for LOFAF.

"DAVE: fuckJOHN: ah! i just realized why she sent me to this point in time to start recruiting you all.DAVE: whatDAVE: who" Rose, but not your Rose, although perhaps with the memories of that Rose, so kinda your Rose. :P Okay, so it's not that Rose's letter gave more detailed instructions than to zap there & recruit. So John'll have to figure out what to bring besides the people, in some cases at least. Like, here that would be Caledfwlch.

"JOHN: this is the moment just after you made your legendary cue ball sword.JOHN: you’re going to need it.DAVE: for whatJOHN: to come fight lord english with me.

Dave’s eyebrows descend beneath his sunglasses. You feel pretty bad because you’re about to completely circumvent the life-changing epiphany he’s just had that you know for a fact will make him a happier, chiller, and altogether more well-balanced human being." :/ Yeah, Dave really was happier cheating his way out of the prophecy. But then, he could only become so happy if someone else took care of the REAL Lord English for him. Guess another Dave'll have to bite the dust for "alpha" Dave again. Then again, epiphany or not, GO Dave might have ended up happy... but then he'd have been a happy ghost, for just as long until LE or the black hole got to him.

Still, man, I'm feeling for the guy. It's one thing to reject the call when it's an abstract prophecy or artefact thrust on you. But now it's his best friend asking him to join him in a crazy last stand. That's... actually one of the toughest challenges any Dave has had.

"DAVE: oh shit" ... Best underwhelming response he could have. :D

"JADE: what??

JADE: john. he is NOT going to fight lord english just yet

JADE: he is staying right here

JADE: old ladys orders :PJOHN: actually, yes he is." I'm sensing a showdown coming, but I wonder how swift John will take care of her, can his mangrist trump First Guardian swiftness? Oh, yeah, and he could turn into the Breeze too, I recall. Yeah, Jade's gonna bite the dust.

"JOHN: and so are you. we all are." Oooooh, okay, he wants everyone from the GO timeline to take a swing. Cool that he's getting his gang back together. Still, the age difference! :P Everyone but Roxy might be a little wary of it. (I'm saying that because at one point Roxy crushed on Jane's Dad.

"JADE: omg

JADE: how dare you?????JOHN: jade, you’re brainwashed.JOHN: sorry. but nothing you’re saying now means anything." Like, I understand where he's coming from, but dang John, still so brutal.

"JOHN: it’s fine though, you’ll stop being brainwashed once i zap you outside the influence of the condesce." Oooh, round trips to blankspace it is? I don't think it'll be to LOWAS, just to "a" point in blankspace they can be "stored" until the gang is assembled.

"JADE: youre not zapping me anywhere!!!!!JOHN: ha ha, yes i am.JOHN: watch this...

> Zap Grimbark Jade outta there." Has he learned to do a snap to zap her away while staying behind himself? Like how Jade zapped everyone to LOMAX.

It would be anticlimactic for John's retcon powers to suddenly cease working here. It would also be very Hussie for that to happen spontaneously. :P But then again, not likely as he'll use the same power to go to LOCAM (Caliborn's planet).

"You set a hand on Jade’s shoulder and zap her off to a better place. Then you touch down on the concrete surface where the whole pointless confrontation was taking place so that you can talk Dave around whatever it is he’s going through right now. Dave, like his ecto-sister, really needs to get in an absurd amount of extraneous words before he can fully process a situation.

The Mayor tips his head at you and fiddles with his sash. God damn, you missed the Mayor." Ah, okay, that particular conversation we might not see in its entirety? Or maybe we will. In any case, right, WV was there! Aww, yes we missed him. But hey, seems like John at least took a little time before they travelled into the future, to get to know WV? I wonder if he ever found out he was his exile, probably not.

"DAVE: so what do we do nextJOHN: well, i’ll leave you to hang out with jade for a bit, while i go round up the others." Hey, it occurred to me, Dave & Jade could have a chat while they wait, work some things out. A similar conversation as that GO Dave & Jade presumably had right after their deaths, when they woke up next to each other in the dreambubbles!

"DAVE: what others... likeDAVE: everyoneJOHN: yes. rose, and the other four." Yeah, this is speeding things up rapidly as far as the meetup between the kids is concerned. Dave & Dirk might benefit from some alone time out in blankspace together, mirroring their LOTAK conversation. Also, this means John will be zapping into the outer reaches of the session to retrieve Dirk, hahah. ... I wonder if the glitches from the stardust will be causing any disturbance, probably not anymore since the stardust was blown out of the cartridge, admittedly at a "later" point in the timeline.

Blaperile has a good point, what about Roxy? I'm going to assume that, by the time gets around to breaking her out of jail, John 1 or an equivalent John has already visited her. But I don't remember if they talked about the ring already back then. I do still think John will be giving her the ring to go revive Calliope, but the exact feelings around the moment will remain to be seen.

"DAVE: i seeDAVE: so...DAVE: sorry if i seem a little slow here im just trying to figure this outDAVE: youre telling me that i made this sword because im destined to defeat lord english and weve all been training for that day our whole lives to some extent more or lessDAVE: and we are actually successful here like we overthrow the condesce and make a universe and everythingDAVE: and thenDAVE: we..." ... Yeah, this timeline won't spawn a universe, it's already been done, it exists, no point in repeating the whole process. This session is now void again. Dave tries to build a timeline in his head that makes sense, but the sad thing is, his future is uncertain. Though, he might not be sad at all? I mean, not if the future is his to be written, right?

"DAVE: sit on our asses for several years in the new universe and become adults and lead mostly boring lives instead of going off to fight him?" ... Or, does Dave really DO understand what has happened, that he's picking up left over plot behind some other version of him.

"JOHN: yes.DAVE: guess that makes senseDAVE: now that i think about it thats probably what i would want to do by the time we finally wrap up this whole hot messJOHN: yep, it is what you wanted to do.JOHN: and pretty much everyone else agreed, including me. so that’s what we did." Not sure how conscious the decision was for them at the time, but sure.

"DAVE: which uhDAVE: i guess begs the questionDAVE: if it seemed pointless at the time and nobody could be assed to go fight him when we all had our shit togetherDAVE: why does it suddenly become important to go back and beat him years later after we become a bunch of lazy adults with boring lives" You'd have to ask Rose but she wouldn't remember in this timeline so the point is kind of mute. :P

"JOHN: i pretty much had the same questions, dave.JOHN: there are probably some pretty good answers to that. definitely some complicated answers.JOHN: but to be honest... i kind of forget what they actually were?DAVE: god damn it john" Pfffffff. John "it seemed important at the time so here i am" Egbert, everyone.

"JOHN: it has something to do with canon unraveling, and such.JOHN: we all live outside canon in the future, and if we don’t do go do this, everything will stop meaning anything.DAVE: does...DAVE: anything you just said actually mean anything in the first place" There's a song that comes to mind from Volume 9, "Everything means Something to Somebody". To Dave, it must be sound like the same level of fortune cookie wisdom.

"JOHN: that’s a great question, dave.JOHN: one that i can’t say i’m qualified to answer!JOHN: i think the bottom line here is, this is what rose said we had to do.JOHN: so, that’s why we’re doing it.DAVE: sounds like a bullshit reason if i ever heard oneJOHN: you might be right.JOHN: but is it less of a bullshit reason than any other reason we currently have to go fight him?DAVE: ...DAVE: damnDAVE: youre rightDAVE: i dont know how you did it but you somehow instantly sold me completelyDAVE: fuck you adult egbert" At some point, the scales will buckle just from the shear heap of bullshit piled on.

"You zap Dave off to where he needs to go. The Mayor is still staring at you, blinking his buggy little eyes. You shoot him a warm smile and a thumbs-up before bouncing off into the ether of infinity." Awww, actually, leaving WV behind can't be all bad for him. He can find Serenity in here, PM too. Condesce might very well leave for the Furthest Ring, and then this session is up for sale to anyone. And with the royalty down for the count, WV can take over. Well, okay, WQ... probably blew up when Union Jack broke Prospit. Yeah, WV, PM & the still alive Derse agents are the top bill around, and if PM can trump Jack again (the three of him, Spades Slick & Union Jack included), then the remaining Derse agents would follow.

That marks the end of Meat, page 4 for us!

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #homestuck meat #upd8 #reaction #spoiler alert #john egbert #dave strider #grimbark jade #wv #the mayor #LOHAC #retjohn

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lucisfavoritedemon · 6 years

Text

Maybe Dreams Do Come True

Pairing: Dean x reader (sort of).

Summary: What if you had gone after the Djinn instead of Dean? Will feelings for the oldest Winchester come to light for when you least expect? How do you deal with the aftermath when you know how you truly feel?

Square Filled: Dream Sequence

Word Count: 2679

Warnings: Fluffy, angsty, lots of dialogue, suicide to escape(it’ll make sense), horrible relationship to sibling

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo.

“I’m at the warehouse now. I’ll wait as long as I can, but I feel I should head in and locate it, and let you know when I find it.”

“Y/N, no. Wait for me to get there I’m five minutes away. Don’t go in alone,” Dean cautioned.

“Okay fine,” I lied. I was gonna go in there and at least scope out the place. I wasn’t gonna engage the Djinn until Dean got here, but it couldn’t hurt to find exactly where the thing was hiding out.

I headed inside and checked every possible room and couldn’t find anything. I found a staircase that led down to a lower level. As I was turning around the corner from the stairs, the Djinn came out of nowhere and attacked me. His hand looked like it had blue flames coming out of it. I tried to hold his hand back but he touched my forehead, and everything went black.

~*~

I woke up in a strange place. I felt like I knew it, but at the same time it was completely foreign to me. I was in bed, and the last thing I remembered was the Djinn had spotted me. Now, here I am in bed in a strange place.

I heard rustling of the sheets. I turned over and saw a man laying next to me. I didn’t recognize the man just looking at him, but then the stranger spoke.

“Morning babe, you’re up early?” It was Dean.

“Yeah, I guess. What time is it?”

“8:00, you usually don’t get up until a little after nine. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I think I just had a horrible nightmare. And did you call me babe?”

“Yeah, why do not like me calling you ‘babe’?”

“No, I do it’s just that, I didn’t think you felt that way about me. I guess that also explains why you always want to protect me, and don’t want me to go on hunts.”

“What are talking about? You hate hunting. The fact that you have to kill an innocent animal. You were mad at me for three days after you found out I went deer hunting.”

“No, I’m not talking about animal hunting, I’m talking about werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, and everything in between.” I got up from my spot in bed to emphasize that I was serious.

“Okay you have been watching too many horror movies again. You know those aren’t real right?” He got up and walked towards me.

“Dean this isn’t funny, I’m serious. We hunt monsters, have pretty much all our lives. Your dad went absolutely crazy after your mom died. Raised you and Sam practically like soldiers. I lost my dad when I was 12. Your dad took me in and I have been with you and Sam ever since.”

“What are you talking about? My mom is alive you’ve met her. You know dad past away last year, and Sam is up at Stanford. Come on I think that nightmare might have gotten to your brain, why don’t I make us breakfast?” He said grabbing my face and kissing my forehead, before he grabbed my hand and walked downstairs.

“There you two are I was starting to wonder.” Do my eyes deceive me or could it really be…

“Dad?”

“Oh yeah and he’s alive too. Thought you’d wanna see it for yourself though.” Dean whispered in my ear before kissing my temple.

“Come on dig in there’s plenty to go around.”

“Is this the ‘Build Your Own Breakfast Sandwich’?” I asked looking at the plates of nestalgia.

“Yep with eggs sunny side up.”

“I used to love this when I was a kid. I would refuse to go to school some days until you made me this for breakfast.”

“Yep those were the good ol’ days. Now look at you, you’ve got a long term boyfriend, you live in your old childhood home, and you have a successful job.”

“Yeah, I guess I sometimes miss those days too. They were simple yet grand,” I trailed off needing a reminder that I was somehow still holding on to the good times me and my dad shared. “Hey dad I have a question?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Have you ever heard of a Djinn?”

“Oh no please don’t start this again.” Dean butted in.

“I have. Why bring this up now? You know not to ask those sorts of things to me.”

“I know it’s just I’m curious as to what they can do. I know they’re not real, but you know it doesn’t hurt to check the lore. See what the mythology is.” I saved myself from a total yelling fit. I wanted these moments with my dad to be special.

“Well, Djinn are basically genies, but minus the ‘grant you three wishes’ part. They mostly put people into deep sleep feeding off of them, as most lore goes.”

“Do they have to touch you to put you in this deep sleep state?” I needed to find out as much as I could without drawing any more attention to the subject.

“No, from what I’ve heard they poison you when you least expect it.”

I let the subject go, but when I went to look out the window, I saw a girl in a white dress just staring in the window from the sidewalk across the street. A car drove by, and she was gone. I had to be seeing things. She couldn’t be real.

“Hey Y/N, babe are you okay?”

“Huh...yeah I’m fine. It’s just I’m really tired.” I lied I couldn’t tell him I was seeing things after what I told him this morning. He probably would think I was crazy.

“Hey after breakfast why don’t you go lay down for a little bit then we can get ready for tonight, okay?”

“Yeah that sounds good.”

~*~

After breakfast I went upstairs to act like I was going to lay down, but I was actually going to do some research of my own. Just before I was about go search something I heard the roaring of a lawn mower right outside my window. I looked out and saw that Dean was mowing the lawn. It was amazing and weird watching him have a normal life. Just watching him doing a normal chore was eye opening.

Dean stopped for a second and looked up toward my window. He waved with a huge smile on his face. I waved and went back to what I was doing before.

~*~

After a couple hours of research and rest, Dean came in to check on me.

“How was your nap?”

“It was good I guess. I do need a shower though before we do anything else this afternoon.”

“Well, I just got done doing yard work and stuff so why don’t you go shower while I call Sam and see where he’s at okay?” He said kissing me, and I swear I could fly at that moment.

“Yeah, I need to see Sam. I miss him.”

“Wow, are you sure you’re not in a secret relationship with him Jessica and I don’t know about?”

“Wait Jess is alive too?” This was shocking maybe Sam could finally have the happy ending he deserved.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she be? Oh no this doesn’t have to do with that dream you had last night does it?”

“Well, in my dream Jess died in a fire, where she was pinned to the ceiling and her blood dripped on Sam’s face after he got back from helping you with a hunt.” I hid in a pile of lies for the third time today.

“You’re kidding right? Y/N/N, that’s ridiculous. Sure people die in house fires all the time, but never when they are pinned to the ceiling. That’s crazy.”

“I’m telling you it happened, in my dream of course.” I tried to cover up the fact that this was both a dream and a nightmare all in one.

“Well, go take a shower so we can go meet your dad for his birthday dinner.”

“It’s my dad’s birthday?”

“Yeah? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Okay then I won’t say a word.”

“Your brother’s gonna be there too you know?”

“Darryl’s alive too?”

“Wow, that nightmare really did mess with your head. Honey, everyone is alive. You know that, I don’t know why things are hard for you to understand. No one you care about is dead, I promise.” Dean sat me down, grabbed one of my hands and soothed me. All of this was overwhelming to me. How could everyone that I believed to be dead somehow be alive again.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready for dinner.” I simply stated before grabbing something nice from my closet and heading to the bathroom.

~*~

“Well thank you everyone for coming I had a wonderful birthday. I’m even glad that both of my kids are reunited again.” Dad said smiling at both Darryl and I.

“To dad,” Darryl said raising his glass.

“To dad,” I chimed in raising my glass as everyone joined me.

Dinner was wonderful and I enjoyed seeing everyone so happy, but part of me felt wrong. I felt like this wasn’t my life and I knew that. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it. I didn’t belong here. Halfway through our meal I started to get this feeling of being watched. I turned around and there was that girl again standing in the corner near the restrooms. I got up to go after her but with all the hustle and bustle of waiters and everything, when I got close enough she was gone.

“Y/N are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I think I have.”

~*~

“Y/N, so you’re saying you might have seen a ghost back at the restaurant?”

“Yes Dean, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Look I have to do a bit of digging, but if I’m right about this everything I look up will end in a tragic incident.”

“Okay and if not, I’ll say you’ve lost it.”

“That’s fair.”

We spent over an hour on the computer looking up different freak accidents and every single person the boys and I saved are dead. Every last one.

“And just two weeks ago you and Sam stopped a ghost from killing prisoners in Arkansa at a county jail. It was easy for them to get in and out, but since you and Sam don’t hunt monsters this spirit has killed over seven people now with no end in sight.”

~*~

I took off I needed to find a silver knife and lambs blood before it was too late. When I got the silver I headed towards the warehouse.

“So you’re really doing this?” Dean popped up from the backseat.

“How long have you been back there?”

“A while. Look I know that all the stuff you read to me was a bit freaky but this is too far. Look something has me thinking that maybe you’re doing this so Darryl will look at you different.” “Do Darryl and I not have a good relationship?”

“Not really, he thinks you’re an annoying little brat who got everything she always wanted and he had to work hard for what little he has.”

I pulled up to the warehouse entrance needing answers now and not wanting to waste any time. I ran down the stairs to the basement where I remembered the Djinn first attacked me. There on the opposite side of the room was the girl I had been seeing tied up and strung from the ceiling. I looked over across from her and realized that I was just like her.

Before I could think fast I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. It was the Djinn. “We need to hide. Now!” I whisper yelled to Dean as we ran and ducked for cover behind a fence and shelving. We both watched as the creature touched the girl, who was slowly waking up, lulling her back into a deep sleep, then feeding on her blood.

Just when I thought we were in the clear, Dean accidently knocked something over off of a shelf. This attracted the Djinn’s attention to our spot. I had to think fast and booked it to the other side of the room under the stairs.

“That was close now let’s get out of here before that thing comes back.” Dean suggested grabbing my hand and trying to pull me along.

“No, what if this is a dream, and I’m like that girl stuck here while that thing feeds off of me?”

“That’s nonsense.”

“You hear of stories of when you die in your dreams you wake up I bet it’s the same thing in this case too.”

“You want to kill yourself no. I went along with you this far, but no I’m not gonna lose you to suicide.”

“He’s right, no matter what I say you’ll always be my sister. This isn’t the answer.” Darryl said coming out of the shadows along with dad.

“I have to it’s the only way those people get saved.”

“Y/N/N no, I won’t let you do this please let’s just go home and we can forget that this ever happened.” Dean said grabbing my hands and kissing them before pulling me into a hug.

“No, I can’t. This isn’t my life no matter how bad I want it to be. I love you Dean I really do. Maybe someday we could be together in the real world.” I put the knife to my stomach and jabbed it in. All I could hear was Dean screaming before everything went blank.

~*~

I had woken up in the back of the impala, Dean watching me from the rearview mirror. It has been a long road to recovery. Not physically but mentally. I can’t shake the feeling of how it felt when Dean kissed me. I wanted that for real and not just in a dream.

“Hey Y/N, how you doing this morning?” Dean asked as I sat up and stretched from my spot on the couch in our motel room.

“I’m good.” I looked around to see if Sam was around, but he wasn’t. “Hey where’s Sam?”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you had a little crush on my brother?” Dean teased.

“I do not have a crush on Sam okay so stop saying that,” I said more harshly than I meant to.

“Hey I was joking. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“No it’s my fault. I like someone else, but everytime I think things could work out, something goes wrong.”

“Well, if this guy doesn’t see how amazing you are that’s his loss.”

“You really believe that?” I asked not really believing it myself.

“Hell yeah. Any guy would be lucky to be with a girl like you.”

“Please tell me you’re serious and that YOU truly believe that.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Well, this guy he is so stubborn sometimes. He thinks he’s all tough, but I can see right through him. He doesn’t even have to tell me somethings wrong for me to know. I honestly didn’t even think I had feelings for him until that Djinn got me. In a way I have it to thank for showing me my deepest desire.”

“Okay I didn’t need to hear that. Look just tell this guy how you feel, and if he rejects you his loss not yours.”

“Okay well, what if that guy was you?”

“I would be happy.”

“But…”

“But it’s not me, it could never be. A guy like me doesn’t deserve a girl like you.”

“Well, this girl thought it the other way around that someone like me didn’t deserve someone like you. Maybe that’s why we deserve each other.”

“Because we don’t deserve each other?”

“To prove to the world that we do deserve each other.” I said and I leaned in our lips connecting. This honestly was even better than my wildest dreams.

Tags:

@katymacsupernatural @our-jensen-ackles-love @ericaprice2008 @canadianspnhunter @mamaredd123 @sea040561 @anotherwaywardsister @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @winchesterprincessbride @muchamusedaboutnothing @msimpala67 @atc74 @snffbeebee @torn-and-frayed

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 7 years

Text

Into the Water

Tony Stark X Reader

A/N: I don’t know what brought this idea on? Maybe because I’m watching “The Impossible” on Netflix, and wondered how the hell they held their breath? I can barely hold mine underwater for like 10 seconds lol BTW I have 2 more fics that are almost done!

Summary: Reader has an accident after a nasty fight with Tony…

Warnings: Car accident, angsty as fuuuck, swearing, panic, death (??)

BTW the format got a little fucked up! Sorry!

Masterlist // Part 1.5 // Part 2

“He’s just being a dick, Mom!” I cried into the phone, driving down the highway. “He’s so fucking stubborn! I just want him to be safe, Mom! He’s going to end up killing himself if he keeps being so reckless!”

Tears were running down my face, lights streaking quickly by as I drove towards my mother’s house in New Jersey. I had left the tower after a huge fight with Tony in the lab. He had broken up with me, because I asked him not to go on a mission that they had no information about, which sparked a fight. He had been pulling all-nighters, again, and barely eating. It was not safe for him to go on a dangerous mission when he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep or meal.

“Oh, Honey.” My mom sighed into the phone, “You two will make up. You’ve been through worse than this. Come stay the night, and you can call him in the morning.”

“I hope so,” I sniffed, wiping under my eyes, “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Oh, baby girl, you won’t. Just let him cool off, and come snuggle your lonely, old mother.” She chuckled, “Now take a few breaths, and get off the phone. I hate it when you talk and drive. I will see you in a bit.”

“I will. Bye, mom, I love you.” I hung up the phone and focused back on the road.

Tony and I had been together for a little over five years. We had our ups and downs. Mostly ups… but ugly downs. Like tonight’s fight. Tony had been working in the lab, again, and I was sitting in his chair reading a book. He was in the middle of tinkering with one of his many suits when he mentioned that he was going to leave in the morning for a mission.

“Tony, you haven’t slept in two weeks. Are you sure a mission is a good idea? Where are you even going?” I wasn’t trying to start anything. I was genuinely worried.

“Seriously, Y/N? I’m an Avenger. We go out on missions.” He snapped, throwing his hands up, “Anyways, what would you know? You’re not even an Avenger. I’m pretty sure you don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“Keep it up and I will show you just how well I can handle a gun.” I muttered, setting my book down and crossing my arms. “What is wrong with you? Why are you being a dick?”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N!” He yelled, coming to stand right in front of me, “I’m sick of you nagging me all of the time about what I do! You knew what you were getting yourself into when we started dating!”

“Nagging you?” I stood up, pushing the chair back, “I don’t want to see you get yourself killed, Tony! Ever since Steve and Bucky came back from Wakanda, all you do is hole up in this lab. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, and you avoid everyone! You don’t take care of yourself!”

“You’d avoid them, too, if Barnes had killed your parents!” He screamed, face turning red and eyes cold, “He killed my parents, Y/N!”

“That was HYDRA, Tony.” I sighed, running my hands through my hair in frustration, “Bucky was brainwashed by HYDRA. The Winter Soldier and Bucky are two different people.”

“So you’re defending him, then?” He scoffed, turning around and walking back to the suit he was tinkering with, “Why don’t you just go date him then! Seems like you two have been getting pretty cozy, lately, anyways!”

“Seriously?” I couldn’t believe it… “You think I’m getting ‘cozy’ with Bucky? Do you really think that little of me, Tony?”

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic!” He turned back around, leaning against one of his many work benches, “I don’t know what to think.”

I shook my head, angry tears pricking my eyes, “Well, I’m not the one who strays in this relationship, anyways.” I rushed towards the door, needing to cool off.

He was faster, stepping in front of it, effectively blocking my exit. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

I looked down, wringing my hands together as a surge of nervousness washed over me. “Tony…”

“No, Y/N.” He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door, “Tell me what the fuck you mean by ‘I’m not the one who strays’. Do you think I cheat on you?”

“No, Tony. Just forget it.” I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to make the tears stay in my eyes.

“Why the fuck are we in a relationship if you don’t trust me, huh?” He demanded. I could feel his gaze boring into me, anger rolling off of him in waves. “Clearly we’ve been wasting our time.”

There was a sharp pain in my chest at his words. I looked up, teary eyes making contact with his hard ones, “Just forget it, okay? You made your point. I’m going to bed.”

“No.” He shouted, making me jump, “Clearly you have something to say, so fucking say it.”

“Fine!” I snapped, pushing my pointed finger against his shoulder, “You accuse me of getting cozy with Barnes, when in reality, I’m not the one getting cozy with other people! I’m nice to him, because nobody else is! You, on the other hand, flirt with any female you come into contact with. You are the one who stays out all hours of the night, you are the one who comes home smelling like a bar, and you are the one who’s being an absolute asshole, right now!” The tears started falling. “Is breaking up something you want? Because I want to work, whatever the fuck this fight is, out. But only if you are willing to pull your head out of your ass, shut the fuck up, and listen to me!”

“Get the fuck out.” He screamed, slapping my hand away from his shoulder. “Breaking up is something I want. Go pack your shit and get the fuck out of my tower.”

“Tony-”

“GO.”

So I did.

After only ten minutes of driving, I had already come to the conclusion that the fight was stupid. That was why I had called my mom. She always knew how to make me feel better. Plus, her house was only a few hours away, so why not go see her?

Then, in a few days, I could come home and-

“FUCK!”

_____

Oh my god, my head…

Shit. I must have crashed my car. There was another car… I think it swerved into my lane. I think… Why are my legs so cold? What the fuck is that noise? I opened my eyes, and a wave of panic rushed through my veins. My legs were cold because there was fucking water rushing into my car. My car was under water.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I looked around, assessing my surroundings. Think, Y/N, think!

I must have swerved off the bridge I was driving over. What happened to the other car? Do they know I’m down here? I tried to remove my seatbelt. I yanked and pulled, but the belt wouldn’t come undone. The button was working but the belt was stuck, and the car had locked my belt when the crash happened. What the fuck do I do? What do I do? Where’s my phone?

My phone was, thankfully, still in my cup holder. I didn’t know where my purse was. The water was still rushing in. It was a loud - almost deafening - roar. The water had risen almost to my knees, rushing in through the vents.

Tony! Call Tony!

I struggled to calm my breathing as I unlocked my phone with shaky hands, toes starting to tingle and feel numb from the freezing, muddy water that was still rushing in. I clicked on Tony’s name, “Please, pick up. Please, pick up.” I chanted this over and over again for every ring.

Voicemail.

I hit redial.

Voicemail.

A sob ripped through me. The water was up to my bellybutton. Tony was not picking up. “T-Tony! You need to answer the phone! Please, Tony! I- I crashed the car, and it is filling up with water!” I sucked in a breath, choking out another sob. “Please! Please! Help me!” The panic was really starting to settle in. “I- I’m going to try, again.”

Redial.

“Help me!” I screamed, yanking on my seatbelt, again. “Somebody please, HELP ME!” I pushed against the floor of my car with my feet, trying to move the seatbelt. Still locked.

What about FRIDAY? What if I called FRIDAY?

I searched my phone for the number. “YES!” I sobbed, hitting the button. The water was just reaching my ribs. I shivered.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” FRIDAY answered.

“FRIDAY! Oh, thank god!” I sobbed. “I need you to send Tony my location and patch me through to him. It’s an-”

Crack!

“No. NO.” The windshield was starting to crack. If it shattered, I was going to drown. I couldn’t get out of my seatbelt. I screamed, tears streaking down my face. I tried my seatbelt again, with no success.

“Y/N?” Tony’s voice came out of the speaker, sounding confused, “Why is FRIDAY sending me your location and-”

“TONY!” I sobbed, “I crashed the car! It’s filling up with water! I can’t get out! Please! Help me!” I kept yanking on the seat belt as the water reached under my bra, “I don’t want to drown!”

“Y/N.” Tony’s voice was loud, as he shouted orders in the background. “We are coming to get you, you are not going to drown!”

“I love you!” I choked out, breathing getting faster and faster. “Tell my mom and the team that I love them! Oh, god, I’m all my mom has left!” I sobbed harder, “I don’t want to drown!” The water was getting deeper, and the spreading of the crack was getting wider.

“Y/N, baby, you aren’t going to drown. We are on our way, okay? Just hold on.” His voice was shaking. I was at least a few hours’ drive away from the tower. Was he going to make it? “How deep is the water? Can you keep trying your seatbelt?”

“It’s almost to my shoulders, Tony!” The cold was starting to seep into my bones, and the horror of the situation was starting to settle into my mind. I might not make it out of here. Tony could only go so fast in the suit, and the water was rising too fast. I stopped shaking as a dead calm spread over me, “I’m going to drown.”

“Y/N, baby, please stop talking like that.” Tony’s distressed voice begged through the phone, “We’re coming, okay? J-just please, baby, stop talking like that.”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” I choked out, shivers running through my body, “I didn’t mean it. I w-was just u-upset.” I craned my neck up as the water rose over my shoulders. I held the phone higher, practically pinning it to the ceiling. I would’ve tried my seatbelt, again, but the cold was draining all of my energy, and I didn’t want to drop the phone. “My windshield is cracking, baby.” The higher the water rose, the further out the spidering of the crack travelled. It was only going to hold for so long.

“I… I’m almost there.” He stuttered out, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I love you.” I whispered, tears mixing with the water under my chin.

The shattering of the windshield was dulled by the sound of the water rushing over my head…

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