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avatarkv · 10 months

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EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (1)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. (wc; 3104)

Jake knew a saying; held onto it ever since he had resided amongst Na’vi– every person is born twice. While he believed that it meant that the second time is when you earn your place here in Pandora, Eywa had a clever way of broadening the idea. His very children were proof of it.

He thinks it’s the great mother’s way of compensation, perhaps a second chance for him to do better– to do his very best to keep them alive on behalf of those he lost.

While Kiri was a special case enough, you too were an odd one.

You are Tsu’tey's daughter. Turns out, he had someone in secret while he trained to become olo’eyktan– when he was supposed to take Neytiri for himself. It was taboo– absolutely wrong to become unfaithful to one’s mate. But following the carnage of the great war, when Tsu’tey had so selflessly sacrificed his life, only then did Tsi’ewa came forward; told everyone of their love and what could have been. She was a simple songstress along Ninat, but it was her round and bulging belly that caught everyone’s attention.

It caused an uproar and understandably so. After all, Neytiri had only announced her rebellion with Jake not long before, but when the people connected the dots themselves and both stories had become one, they understood that their hearts merely yearned for another and no one should have ever dictated otherwise. Arrangements had been made and condolences were exchanged— everyone can only look back and wish that things could have been different.

Jake was supposed to take you under his wing as a way of honoring him– he owed Tsu’tey his life and perhaps an apology as big as so. But after your mother had unfortunately died during your birth, he knew to himself that he had to take you in; not as a responsibility, but as his own blood and flesh. His first daughter.

You were the loudest baby, he recalled. That day, Jake had rocked your body back and forth in his arms frantically, while Mo’at and Neytiri did everything within their power to help Tsì'ewa. Your cries were ear-splitting, enough to wake the whole clan up.

“Just what do I do with you,” He muttered under his breath, eyebrows knitted in frustration– just where do he hold you? Is he doing it right? Are you hurt? Why are you crying so loud?

“Jake, the baby!” Neytiri’s shout from inside had cut his train of loud thoughts, snapping back to your bawling. He wasn’t doing such a good job.

“I’m trying, Neytiri– this thing won’t budge.”

Neytiri had emerged from the hut, stomping her way to Jake with a scowl. "That is not a thing, you skxawng!" she exclaimed before gently scooping you up from his arms, cooing softly to you– though it was more like mocking him instead. “Does Jake here make you cry?” She said, patting your thigh soothingly. “He’s not at all pleasant to look at, but you have to get used to it.”

Almost in an instant, your cries had died down. You babbled along with her, like you were agreeing with her every word. He slowly pulled himself closer to Neytiri, eyes wide with curiosity as he watched your small hands playing with her long braids. “Heh, she has Tsu’tey’s eyes,” He whispers, unable to look away.

The flap of the hut swinging open was the only thing that got their attention, momentarily away from yours as they looked at Mo’at with anticipation. With a single shake of her head, sorrow surged their hearts, eyes traveling back to your innocent ones. They mourned for you; an unknowing child should never have to carry such grief. They had to make a choice– A responsibility they weren’t expecting to have so early.

Jake mindlessly trails his finger down your stomach, gently, like you were the most fragile thing. Your little hand wraps around it and it was like you had binded his scattered thoughts into one big understanding.

Sully. You’re one of them now.

Jake releases a breathless chuckle as he gazes upon his lover and you with a newfound clarity, a perspective so bright it illuminated in his very eyes. Then came an idea– the desire of having children of their own. Perhaps that’s why Neteyam came after only two years. You were quite the ploy; the push they needed to start a family.

You were truly blessed– the genius of your age was undeniable, your remarkable talent soon earning you the admiration of all who had seen it. By the time you turned six, you had already mastered many of the abilities that a hunter would need– your skills with a bow were unrivaled by most of the children your age, let alone those who were much older than you. They'd marvel at your accuracy each time you took aim with an arrow. You could never miss. You had to make sure you didn’t.

By the age of 12, you had already accompanied Jake in hunts. You had developed a knack for planning, coming up with routes and back-up plans that were often surprisingly effective. You have proved to be helpful plenty of times. You were quick, silent– full of poise. They often wondered if you were an old, seasoned soul trapped inside a little girl’s body.

But as quickly as the spotlight had shone down on you, it left almost as soon as it had come.

(“What you did today was reckless, y/n.” Jake settles his bow on the table aggressively, emitting a sharp thud. You were just as frustrated, throwing your satchel down the floor of the hut.

The mission had gone rather wildly, with things not going along the plan. There was another airship– one that no one was aware of. Your instincts jolted your body, immediately throwing an explosive towards it which had it blowing all over the place– its pieces crashing and causing a wildfire.

Jake argued that there could’ve been a more safer way. One that didn’t have to risk more of our resources and supplies; one that didn’t have to injure the other warriors. Of course you knew to yourself that you did the right thing. You did what you had to do.

‘You could’ve been hurt and got others killed! Just what were you thinking?” He continued to berate you. You jest that if this went on, there’d be steam visible above his already heated head.

“I had to take a risk– not everything goes to plan and this is proof of it.” You answered back with a scowl, “If I hadn't, there would’ve been more casualties.”

“That’s not a call for you to answer to! Jesus Christ,” Jake runs his palms down his face, grunting, before looking back at you– expression suddenly tired and soft. “Come on kid, where’s that sweetheart who always listened to what I said?”

You had scoffed, a hurt forming on the pits of your stomach. “That sweetheart once had a place in plans before.” You said, eyes unwilling to look at him. It weighed in your heart heavily– why did people assume that you were the only one who changed? You didn’t understand. “Pretty sure the Jake before was a good listener too.”

The wrinkle in between his eyebrows deepened in confusion, but he never was one for confrontation. With a single dismissive grunt, he turns his back against you. “I’m way past your attitude. You’re grounded. Go.”)

As you grew, the resemblance to your father became ever more apparent. Jake started noticing the many similarities between the two of you; the way you walked– how you sauntered confidently through a crowd. Your braids would move along your heavy steps (and perhaps, that’s where Neteyam got his mannerism of swaying his too.), shoulders wide and proud. You even had his signature snarl, something Tsu’tey was known for that unfortunately seemed to have been passed down to you too.

However, it was more than how you brought yourself. You were strong-willed– stubborn.

There was another thing about you too. You didn’t call Jake dad anymore. It hurt him– left a heavy feeling on his chest every time you regarded him so distant. It was unfair that you still called Neytiri mom, why did it have to change with him? He didn’t have the heart to address it. Couldn’t ask you what went wrong.

Because he knows damn well why.

Lo’ak was enough of a headache, but you were a different kind of royal pain in the ass, more like a personal problem. It was tiresome. Petty. There was not a day that you and Jake wouldn’t argue and bite each other’s ass off– and yet, there was never a day where you two would talk it out. The fights would blur itselves out and before they knew it, things would be back to normal, only for it to fall out again over something small. It was routine. The only thing normal for you both.

He missed you– missed his baby. Just when did you grow to become so distant? When did he start to overlook you?

You’ll admit, you might have indulged in the folk’s gossip. They always had a story for everything and they have plenty about your father. Tsu’tey was a fit olo’eyktan. He had proved so in his training and determination. Of course it was a low punch in the gut when the throne had been passed to an outsider– a demon, most of all. It was unfair, he knew it wasn’t right. A washed up marine had taken something he had worked for like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

You pitied your father and you feared you’d be like him– like nothing.

And history might just repeat itself. You weren’t clueless– wasn’t blind to the fact that Jake had trained your brother more. He adored him so much that the very moment he was in the right age to train, you were off to fend for yourself; trained all alone while Jake went over the routine with Neteyam like he did with you. You remembered waiting for him every afternoon because he promised that he’d make time– that time was yours and yours only. But as the light bled and neared eclipse and you were too cold to wait outside, you learned never to wait again.

They would come home soon after– smiles on their faces and a handful of apologies for you.

Soon enough, your suspicions proved you right as the people started to talk again; Neteyam– the golden child. He would make a good olo’eyktan.

Perhaps that would explain the drift between you and Neteyam too. Could they blame you for it? You had lost their attention so early– while you still needed them. You weren’t their kid and you were reminded of it everyday. In times when you didn’t know if you had space in the family hammock while they sat together, telling stories under the starry sky. You pretended to have fallen asleep everytime; back against them as you listened. In times where the family was growing and growing, until the small table wasn’t big enough for everyone anymore– or in this case, for you.

(“Come on, ma’ite, what are you doing so far from here?” Neytiri had called for you when she noticed how distant you were from everyone. You silently scooted beside her, wooden bowl in your lap. “Look, I prepared your favorite.”

It wasn’t. You hated it. You hated the tangy taste of it so badly. But you had decided to eat what was left on the table after everyone had gotten their meals and there wasn’t usually enough for you. Neytiri thought nothing of that– didn’t think that you eating only scraps and dried fruit was because there wasn’t anything else for you to have. She simply thought that it was your favorite and had been making it for you ever since.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her. Not when she thought she had been doing well with preparing it. You kissed your teeth, smiling tightly as you lifted the food to your lips, eating silently. “Thank you, it’s good.” You muttered under your breath after.)

But you were family; they said so themselves. When they tucked you in to sleep, when they patted your head. They were still present now, just not in the way you wanted– not in the way you longed for. It seemed like making them angry was the only way you could have their attention– particularly, your dad. You could never make Neytiri mad. She tries to understand you, she does. Explaining now just seems so.. Petty. So childish, you decided to push her away instead.

What do you tell her? That you only let dad blow a fuse or two was because you missed him? Because you didn’t know what went wrong?

So there goes your routine.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t be olo’eykte.” You had brought up again, lips in a familiar snarl. “You tire me and for what? Kiri is already training to be Tsahik– just what would my place in this clan be?”

“We are not having this conversation again, y/n. Not tonight.”

Jake had just returned from a particularly bad hunt; went home empty-handed and with a patience as thin as a strand of hair. He continued to sharpen his dagger, movements almost aggressive. Everyone immediately went out of his way, not wanting to be on the end of his temper– not you though. You could never get a hint, it seems.

“Yes, tonight! My ceremony is almost near, sir. I have been waiting.”

It wasn’t like he had a reason anyway. Jake couldn’t tell you because he had no reason as to why. Why couldn’t you be olo’eykte? You had all the skills to be one, even more so. But in the back of his mind, a thought so deep and petty that he couldn’t bear to say, tells him that the name he carried was something to gift his eldest son. Olo’eyktan was a privilege reserved for Neteyam. He never thought to have you so early– he always dreamed of having a son first.

“Wait more.”

“This is insane– sa’nok!” You had turned to Neytiri, eyes pleading. She quickly grasps your arm and tries to tug you back towards the exit, speaking in a soft but firm voice as she tries to soothe the tension.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we go out for a walk?” She whispers. To be frank, she was tired of this– never of you, no. But at the way things had been. Parents aren’t parents automatically just because they have had children of their own. It’s a skill they have yet to muster– to truly understand. She didn’t know where the line between you and her had blurry along the years. Didn’t know where this constant need of yours to be seen came from.

You jerked your arm away from her, almost too harshly. It tugged on her heartstrings, not knowing what was going on with you. “I cannot wait anymore.” You said, taking two steps towards Jake with an unreadable anger– an anger he didn’t know when had stemmed from.

“Is it because I’m not your daughter?”

His eyes widened. A flash of vulnerability visible in his gaze, momentarily softening his glare. “You stop this right now, y/n.” He had stood up, tucking the dagger back to his loincloth. Jake’s larger frame towered over you, telling you to drop it– to leave the conversation. But you weren’t backing down.

“I am your eldest–! You trained me earlier than Neteyam, I have been here long enough–”

“You aren’t ready!” He had shouted with the same fierceness, earning a dirty look from Neytiri.

“Why won’t you see me?” Your voice had softened, borderline begging– just a bit, but enough for his ears to flatten in response. He knew that beneath those few simple words lay many layers of underlying meaning; emotions that have yet to be spoken.

But he turns his back against you dismissively anyway. “Neytiri, get her out of here.”

Neytiri grabs you by the arms again, although a bit forceful now, but just enough for her to touch you– to have you in between her arms. She embraced you, like she was trying to keep the words from escalating. She feared one of you would say something out of line; something you both would regret.

But on the brink of the tension– the severity of the situation, you had muttered. Your voice was muffled, but it was clear. The message was oh so crystal. “You took everything from my father.”

Jake grunts, “Yeah? Well maybe your father wasn’t enough either.”

“Jake!” Neytiri hisses and although Jake couldn’t see her, he knew very well he was getting quite the conversation with his mate too.

It was a low blow. Unnecessary. A straight strike to the gut. It was a pain so bitter, you didn’t want it to linger any longer– you were nauseous. You wanted no more than to vomit everything that spiraled out of your stomach.

“You want to lead so badly and you can’t even control your temper. No clan wants a hot-head for a leader.” But he kept going– relentless and cruel. “You ought to be someone else’s shadow.”

“But I’m your daughter,” Your tone had softened, almost cracking as the lump in your throat grew. Tears blurred your vision, threatening to escape as Neytiri held you close.

“And yet you never listen to me— because I’m not exactly your father, yeah?” With one last glance, he stepped out, passing his children who stayed just outside the door, listening. Jake opens his mouth, desperate to ease the tension– the discomfort written in their faces, but he quickly shuts it and continues to walks out. He had said enough for tonight. There was nothing saving his face from this. It was best if he left instead.

“Oh, ma’ite.” Neytiri rocks her body along yours, drawing soothing circles on your back but the embarrassment settles in your chest– gnawing at your body. You catch a glance of the pitiful looks from your siblings as they try to enter the hut silently.

How could you make a mess out of yourself in front of them? Why had you let this blown over?

You retracted slowly from your mother’s hold, wiping your tears before running the opposite way from where Jake had gone to. It was better if you left instead.

mauve here! finally done writing this after racking my head for weeks. wanted it to be relatable (??) as much as possible, idk why. there is just something therapeutic w writing about your past issues <3 but i hope this one's alright!!! really excited to finally post this heheh

lots of kisses!

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f1reladymai · 1 month

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Aang getting so, uncharacteristically angry when Appa was taken by the sandbenders wasn’t just because of his love for his sky bison. Of course, that was a big part of it. Appa is more than just a pet to him, he’s his best friend and soulmate, someone who’s been around since Aang was very young and is meant to be a “companion for life”.

But, Aang ran away on a random Tuesday, got caught in a storm and it changed the whole trajectory of his life. He ran away because he was upset his life was changing so rapidly, he suddenly had all this responsibility at 12 years old that he wasn’t ready for but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have gone back. We don’t know what would have happened; he could have needed a few days to cool off, he could have seen the start of the war and stepped up (from what we know of Aang, there’s no way he would have ignored it for his own needs), but that didn’t happen.

He got caught in the ice for 100 years and when he woke up he discovered that not only was everyone he knew and loved were dead, but brutally murdered in an act of power. That everyone from his teachers, friends (children, like him) and animals, were gone. Not only that but his whole culture; traditions, foods, clothing, music… everything important was eradicated and possibly most of the documentation of the culture, too. He’s suddenly handed this new responsibility on top of being the Avatar, trying to uphold this culture (as literally the last airbender alive) and grieve at the same time.

And Aang grieves very privately, in fact, does he even give himself a chance? He discovered the horrible truth and his immediate response it so go have some fun, maybe because he knows if he thinks too hard about it and gives into the pain, he’ll turn into something he’s not, he’ll forget what the monks taught him and he can’t let that happen.

So he tries to channel all his grief and anger into being the Avatar, even if he still has his reservations, and by his side is Appa. The only thing keeping him tethered to his life 100 years ago and his culture. He’s been with him through everything, and will continue to be, like I said “companion for life”.

And then he’s gone, he’s taken, and all of a sudden Aang cannot keep the crushing weight of his loss at bay anymore and he… snaps, he loses control. He gives into the avatar state because not only is everything he knew and loved gone, taken from him for nothing more than political gain, but now his soulmate that represented everything he lost is gone, too and he doesn’t know what happened to him. Is he dead? Is he scared? Is he fed? Who knows.

Aang losing Appa with the final straw and his grief, something he was ignoring and refusing to deal with, was brought to the forefront when he lost Appa, making it impossible to ignore and if it wasn’t for us friends trying to ground him and remind him of who he was, who knows what would have happened.

#txt post #atla #avatar the last airbender #aang #avatar aang #avatar: the last airbender #a:tla #txt post: aang #appa #aang&appa #Katara #aang&katara #(kinda)#air nomads #pro aang #always haha

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alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

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The point is, Steve can’t hear.

A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.

His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.

But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.

He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.

He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.

Wait for the grief to pass.

They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.

He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.

Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.

At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.

Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).

He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.

But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.

Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?

It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.

It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.

He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—

Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.

It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.

“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.

Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”

Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.

He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.

They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.

It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.

The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.

Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.

He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.

So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.

He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.

Things change suddenly.

Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.

Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.

It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.

“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”

“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.

Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.

He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.

It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.

Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.

Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.

Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.

Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.

He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.

When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.

When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.

Just the right thing he needs.

His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.

“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.

Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.

Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.

When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.

Until it beeps again. And again.

“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”

The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.

They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.

“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”

The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.

And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #is he a ghost??? is he a zombie????#a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!?#well he's definitely a creature #robin buckley #dustin henderson #dustin and his dads #!!!!!#steddie #stranger things #st4 #fix it fic #of sorts???? at least a beginning of one #im telling you people.... there are explanations #hard of hearing steve harrington #hoh!steve #platonic stobin #because i love them

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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

Hiya Mae!! How are you?? It’s been a little bit but I was hoping I could request a poly!marauders fic (+plus Lily if you’re comfortable with doing that if not it’s fine). This week is the 6th anniversary of my brothers passing and this year is a bit harder as I’m turning 18. Having such a milestone coming up and him not being here is sorta making me sick. I was wondering if maybe you could base the fic off of that? Or something to do with grief and them helping reader out. I’ve found great comfort in the abundance of love you portray with their relationship and I could do with a lil of it.

If not it’s totally fine don’t feel obligated. Hope you have a good week!!

Hi sweetheart, sorry I couldn't get this to you during the week you requested it. I was also dealing with a bit of grief at the time and it felt too raw to try for a while. I hope you're doing well and that you really enjoy being 18, even if those feelings are complicated by your loss <33

cw: mentions of death, grief

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 622 words

The sky is turning from deep blue to black outside when Sirus notices you’ve slipped into a melancholy.

The only hint of it is in your tone. You’ve been quipping about the film you’re all watching like you always do, bouncing off his and James’ comments and Remus’ amused grunts, but there’s a falsity to the cheer in your voice. This is something you and James have in common; when Sirius or Remus are upset it permeates the area around them like a thick fog, but the two of you have a way of keeping it contained within yourselves, putting on counterfeit smiles. Sirius often wonders if it doesn’t hurt you more.

He leans away from where he’s been resting his head on Remus’ pectoral, snaking an arm around your shoulders.

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” he asks quietly.

You shrug. Swallow. “Just thinking about them,” you murmur in reply.

Sirius suspects this isn’t the full story, but he, too, knows the necessity of papering over certain pains. He doesn’t pry.

Before the war—before Regulus—Sirius used to think that grief was the pain that came from the love you had for the lost person being ripped away from you. But even months after his brother’s death, all the love is still there. It’s amplified, if anything, every ounce of it demanding attention now that he can no longer take it for granted even a little bit.

What went was the ritual of it all. The peculiar brand of happiness he’d felt around Reg, never easy but still there, buried beneath layers of troubled history and shared broodiness. The inside jokes they’d barely realized they had, things no one who wasn’t raised in their house would see the humor in. The surety that if they fought, they’d get a chance to make up. Sirius will never have those things with his brother again. In memories, maybe, but now they’ll always be tinged with the love so big it hurts.

He wishes desperately he could keep you from hurting like that.

He shuffles closer, awkwardly wrapping his other arm around you until he’s nearly covering your body with his. It’s like he thinks he can shield you, like he can protect you from grief after he’d failed to protect you from loss.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says.

You shake your head, turning so it’s jammed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Your face feels hot. “I don’t know what to do,” you choke out.

Sirius squeezes you tighter. He gets it, but he doesn’t. He knows how it feels to grieve, but not how to grieve your person in your way. It’s an ache he can only approximate.

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds pained, and he gets up from Remus’ other side, rounding the couch to climb onto the armrest beside you. He rubs your back with one hand, the other coming to rest on Sirius shoulder, a comfort in case he needs it. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, my love.”

Sirius feels a hot tear slip down his neck into his shirt, and James winces as your shoulders hitch under his touch. Remus makes a soft pitying sound.

“You’re alright.” He latches onto the last unclaimed part of you, rough hand soothing up your calf. “You’re okay.”

“Sorry,” you manage, and Sirius squishes you punishingly in his arms, pressing a staunch kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t be silly,” he tells you. James makes a half-choked sound of agreement. “No sorries, okay?”

You nod, the bump of your nose moving against Sirius’ neck. He gives you another kiss to show his approval.

“You’re alright, darling,” Remus says again. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got you.”

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kurogxrix · 1 year

Text

Fire Drill

Dad!Ao’nung x Sully!reader

IN WHICH yours and Ao’nung’s son is killed during Quaritch’s attack, but your family is here to help you pick up the pieces.

WC: 3.3k

warnings: ANGST, grief of a son and a brother, death, violence and gory injuries.

2 years. The little amount of time that you had been given before Quaritch and his team came to wreak havoc amongst your family once more. It seemed like your parents killing him once had not been enough, because his appearance made him look hungry for another death. Though you were all happy now, far away from the menace of his heavy ammo and the menacing gun that was slung upon his shoulder.

The first few weeks of living within the Metkayina had been so hard for you and your family. Between Lo’ak and Kiri being treated far worse for having human features, and the hard time you and your mother were having with fitting in with their traditions. The Tsahik had not been any softer on you despite the mistreatment that your family already faced. She despised your family of ‘demons’ and probably your mother too because she was affiliated and had children with one.

Your siblings and you had found comfort within the presence of the sweet Tsireya and Rotxo. Neteyam and yourself often found yourselves laughing quietly at your obviously in-love brother. Though you couldn’t make fun of him for too long, because you too had started developing something for the local Metkayina bully.

Something about his arrogance just made him so annoying yet attractive. Maybe it was his confidence, or the way he would tease you unrelentingly. Nevertheless, you just couldn't let anyone know of your silly crush for now, because if it fell upon the ears of the future olo’eyktan, you knew that he’d never let you live it down. Weeks had passed and your interest towards the boy could only grow more and more as the days passed by.

Though now, only with the teasing remarks of your family. Neteyam was always known for the keen eye that your mother had passed down to him, and it didn’t take long for him to notice the longing stares that you would send the rude boy. Long story short, he told Lo’ak and your little brother and his humongous mouth just couldn’t keep shut. To say that your mother was disappointed in your choice of men was an understatement, but she had allowed herself to fall in love with the person that she had wanted, so why couldn’t you?

Jake was…shocked to say the least. You had never audibly expressed your interest in any boy back at home, and here you were now. Though he knew that there was nothing that he could do to stop his 18 year old daughter from pursuing her heart's desires, because he had done so with Neytiri.

Your sisters had a calmer approach about the subject, rather asking you about it during some private gossip session that you had with them.

So after many months of hidden admiration spent, you still wondered how you had managed to end up under him in the middle of the forest behind their homes. Far from reach of everyone else, in the middle of the Metkayina mating grounds. His chests heaved up and down as he regained his breath, staring down at you with his stern lustful gaze.

An accidental confession and two young adults on the run from prying eyes was all it took for the both of you to run off and bond before eywa, queues intertwined with the feeling of love running thick through both of your veins. You’d laugh at yourself months ago if you had told yourself that you even had a chance with Ao’nung, but here you were now, mated for the rest of your lives.

The walk of shame felt rewarding in some way the next day, you had proved to Ronal and Tonowari that you feared them not, even if it meant being bonded to their son. Now you were all family, if they wanted it or not. Ao’nung and you had moved into your own private marui, and you were shoved into your mother’s loving embrace one last time as you packed your things and moved into your new home. Everything was perfect at first, a feast was soon established for the news of your mateship, and soon came another for the news of your bearing.

A baby, conceived through the love that you both shared. The endless nights that you both spent hidden away from the rest of the world, tightly squeezed in each other’s embrace as you slept the night off. Many were unaccepting at first, a demon hybrid and their future olo’eyktan? How absurd. But soon everyone calmed down, and time passed faster than you would’ve liked it to.

Fires spread throughout the whole village, heavy flames engulfing the beautiful village in its soaring arms. When you arrived back at shore, your heart was already void of all emotions. You felt as though it was bleeding, and the death of your brother felt like the knife that poked through the midst of it. You wanted it to burn with anger towards the sky people for taking your younger brother’s life, but you just couldn’t feel anything.

The brother that you had watched being birthed, cleaned and placed wailing into your young arms had been violently taken before you. It was unfair, but he was in a better place now, away from the cruelty of this world. You couldn’t imagine how your parents felt, losing their first son before their very own eyes. How guilty your little brother must've felt for everything. Though you forced your sorrows away because you had a family of your own to attend to.

Your son was still with his caretaker, and your mate probably had wounds that needed tending. Suddenly, the acrid scent of burning hit your nostrils, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. The fumes entered through your lungs like the much wanted air, and exited like the carbon that you would need to exhale.

Your yellow eyes shone a warm amber colour as your eyes were strained amongst the fiery scene before you. The flames engulfed the stretching material of the maruis, spreading at an undying pace. You were frozen in your spot as you watched the fire turn your homes into remainders of what once was. Your mind raced as you imagined the worst of all scenarios.

You flinched upon contact, elbowing hardly whoever had just grabbed you by the elbows. You turned around to meet their eyes, distress swirling in your very own. Ao’nung nearly fell back at your unwanted assault, huffing as you elbow left quite the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Not the good kind of feeling. He looked at you before reaching for you once more, though you were unresponsive to his touch.

Once the smell of burning reached his nose, his attention was completely retracted from your frozen form. He suddenly urged forwards, grabbing your hand harshly into his as he ran towards the maruis. He ran faster than he had ever done, because there was a nagging feeling of fear lodged deep inside his heart.

You could feel your heart physically stop as you arrived in front of your shared marui, the stretchy material of your home now falling apart under effect of the burning. What scared you the most was the silence. As much as it pains you to say, you would’ve rather heard the painful yells of your baby than the wavering silence.

Without hesitation, Ao’nung entered the marui first. He had little to no reaction as a piece of burning material from the roof fell ungracefully over his arm, leaving a small and ugly mark behind. Him halting in his steps was enough to bring you back to life and rushing to the scene besides him.

Though the sight before you was what no mother would ever wish to see. The woman that was once protecting your son now laid lifeless besides the weaved crib that was made from dried sea plants. The smell of death was atrocious, and you had immediately known that she had not died due to the unfortunate fires. She had been murdered by those sky demons.

You had no care nor time to turn her around to investigate her cause of death. Though you were happy that you didn’t see the violent wound that ran down her back, a long cut that passed from the top to the bottom of her spine. Her blood seeped to the floor and tainted the material, and you could only wish then that it wasn’t Aytan’s, your son.

She was bare and open from the back for anyone to see if they dared to flip her around. You were glad that you didn’t need to, because the sight of her guts spilling all over your feet would’ve surely made you regurgitate your meal all over her mutilated body.

Instead your eyes panned for painfully long on your son that laid still in his crib. Void of any movement or life, you felt as though now you would puke.

His skin was cursed with burn marks that overtook nearly half of his body. He looked so miserable and even if he was still alive at the moment, you would wonder if saving him would do him any good. The once soft baby skin now looked roughy and flaky.

He was still so small that he could barely fit into the two palms of his father’s hands, but he was big enough to fit perfectly in your smaller ones.

Perfectly safe and healthy in his mothers embrace is where he should’ve been right now, not like this.

You looked over to Ao’nung for some unreasoned confirmation that your son was truly dead, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, his lifeless eyes hovered over the charred child that laid innocently in his crib. He couldn’t even make a move to grab the baby, because he was frozen in anguish.

You couldn’t even remember when you had started crying, or when your cries had turned into desperate sobs and prayers towards Eywa. You couldn’t even remember when Ao’nung’s family had found the both of you safe and sound into the marui that once called a home, now in shambles beneath your feet. All you remembered was grasping your son with all force that you had left and praying to the Great-Mother down on your knees, and the painful tears that rolled down your husband’s cheeks.

Though there weren’t more than 3 tears that he had shed, it was 3 too much. He wouldn’t have cried if those damned demons didn’t follow your family here, but yet there he was. He too couldn’t even remember when his mother had embraced him, but she had done so.

There were so many things that the both of you had regretted not doing on that night. Like staying back to protect your son by yourselves. You both resented yourselves for the fact that the last time the both of you would ever hold him this way would be at his funeral, followed by your brother’s.

Everything was quiet since that night, at least for you. It was too much loss for your fragile heart to comprehend all at once. Was your brother’s death not enough, have they had to take your innocent son’s life as well. Your poor son that had just been presented to the clan

You were scared. Scared of so many things that you could not control. You feared what Ao’nung thought of you, did he hate you for not being there with you son? Maybe if you were, you could’ve protected him unlike the incompetent babysitter that you had left him with. No, you shook your head from those nasty thoughts. It was wrong of you to think ill of that woman, she had been present with your son until her unfortunate death.

Your fears turned into trepidation as your husband made his way towards you, a plate of fish in his wobbly hands.

Ao’nung was so angry at many things. He was angry at himself for not being there with his son. He felt mad at the poor woman for not having the ability to protect his innocent son. Though most of all, he felt vexed at you for freezing up on that day. He told himself that perhaps if you had not taken so much time to snap back to your senses, your son would somehow still be here.

He knew that it was wrong of him to think like this, he knew that even if you had acted faster, his son would still be laying unresponsive at his return. He knew that feeling angry at his innocent wife was wrong, that none of this had to do with you being at fault. He hates himself for having these unwanted feelings and thoughts, and at times Ao’nung truly wishes that he could silence his subconscious.

He hated himself for internally blaming you even after watching you drown in remorse. Even after watching you sob over your dead son’s frail body. And even though it had been hours since the funeral of your brother and son, your tears still ran freely on your delicate cheeks.

They stained your dark skin and they strained your eyes that could do nothing to stop the flow. Ao’nung felt his guilt triple in size as he sat next to you, your body instinctively shaking as he engulfed you in his warm embrace. For he had always been your pillar of reconfort and the person that you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable within.

He hushed you gently as you sobbed into his arms, his heart shattering once more as you cried to him. You were unsoothable but he hadn’t complained once, instead he gave you the comfort that you seeked so much. You felt guilty too, because you were not the only person going through grief. Who would be there to comfort Ao’nung when you were crying in his embrace?

Though when you made your worries audible, he was quick to shut them down. He wanted to be strong for you, for his family and mostly for himself. He told you not to worry, that he was okay as long as you were and soon your insecurities of him hating you vanished through the soft breeze. Ao’nung didn’t hesitate to remind you of how strong your love was and that you’d both get through it.

You both slept with heavy hearts at night, unable to close your aching eyelids until they fell on their own with exhaustion. His arms never left your form and you slept with your head on his chest, finding comfort in the sound of his beating heart.

You felt jealous at first, heart black and full of envy as you watched young mothers with their children. Hell, even the older mothers made your heart clench with resentment. And though you knew it was selfish of you to despise mothers for simply existing, there was little that you could do to make the feeling go away.

You couldn’t face the sight of the young children that trudged behind their mothers and soon it began affecting your Tsahik performances. How could you heal children and mothers and assist labourers when you couldn’t even stand the sight of them anymore.

It was unfair, so unfair for everyone but you knew that it was the way that life went. You knew that you couldn’t keep on closing yourself off like this, that you had to be accepting of what had happened and face reality.

So accepting was what you had done. Slowly by slowly, you have started rebuilding your life with the help of people around you. Your mother was the most understanding person, because she had lost so much already. She had lost her son just as you had, but she had never once reprimanded you for grieving. She had never forced you to speak up to her, she had never resented you for feeling the way you did.

You had learnt that it was not the end of the world, and that one day you’d be better, you’d all be better. Neteyam and Aytan’s death were not in vain, for the Great-Mother always had a plan for everyone. If it was her will, then so be it, there was nothing that you could do to undo what was done anyways.

Tuk had been the sweetest girl during that moment, and it never failed to bring tears in your eyes at how understanding she was. She was so young and you were sad that a part of her youth was taken away from her because of this ongoing war.

You could never thank your brother and father enough for being there for you despite the guilt that weighed them down, pushing so hard that they could only bear to stand on their knees.

Though solace could only work in both ways, and you were just as there for them as they were there for you. Aytan was just as much their family member as Neteyam was, and they were allowed to grieve the loss of your son as well. It took time for you all to find peace within this feeling of forfeiture, but you all knew that one day, things would be okay.

You watched as Ao’nung made his way towards his people, a prideful smile adorning his face as his gaze turned to you. His eyes were full of adoration as he stared at you, then to the little bundle of joy and baby fat that was lying comfortably in his arms.

He stood before his people clad in his traditional clothes that were used during feasts and announcements of this type.

The child in his arms stirred awake at the disturbance, whining slightly for her mother. The sound reached your ears and for a second you worried for your daughter, but you knew that nothing bad could happen to her as long as she was in her father’s arms.

The child's stomachs growled loudly for a second and you had to bring your hand in front of your mouth to stifle your laughter. She had just been fed a few minutes before this and yet her hunger caught up to her once more. A trait that she had acquired from his father, you had to cook 3 times your own fish portion to properly feed his warrior’s stomach.

Ura was a child that would soon grow to walk on clumsy legs, a child that was yours. Though a part of yourself was gone forever, tearing a piece of your heart along with it. You knew that the pain of losing your first child would never really go away, but you'd always have your family to help you get through it. You had a wonderful mate, that you relied your entire life within his hands, and a family that knows the ways past your heart.

You watched as Ao’nung raised your 3 weeks old daughter into the air, her chubby little arms raising in amusement. The sound of her name pierced through your ears and soon the chants began to fill your heart with joy and pride. You couldn’t help the warm smile that overtook your features as you watched your daughter being presented to the entire clan, your family close behind you.

Your mother held a hand over her chest, where her heart was. Her smile mirrored yours and the pride on her face could compete versus the one that she felt when you were the one being shown to her clan. Your father and siblings were close to her. Lo’ak now shone with new tribal tattoos, ones similar to yours as they dipped from his chin and all the way down his leg.

His mateship with Tsireya was soon made public, and you felt a pang in your heart when you knew that you couldn’t tease him about it with Neteyam anymore. Though you swallowed your sorrows, feeling happy for your baby brother. Your sister in law stood besides your brother, her eyes glued to her newborn niece. A child that she knew that she just absolutely would spoil when she would learn to stand on her own feet.

Perhaps things would get hard at times, and the reminiscences of your son would be permanent, but you had a loving family that would always help you fill the void.

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

Text

The Stuffed Rabbit🐇💌💕

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB Reader s/o

Happy Valentine's Day, Miguel Nation! 🌹💌

Synopsis: One of my Valentine's Day specials. The other one is posted now too. Woot woot! Bringing you and Miguel back from the same universe as In a Vial Around Your Pretty Little Neck. It's your second Valentine's Day together. And all you want is to go to Build A Bear. You plan an emotional surprise for him too that you hope he'll love. The quote: "Grief is love with nowhere to go," by Jamie Anderson helped inspire this. Word count: 2.7k

TW: Minors DNI since this one has suggestive content(but no smut), little angst, grief, other than that just Valentine's fluff.

-----

"Tienes demasiados peluches, mi vida." (You have too many stuffed animals, my life.) Miguel smirks at you as he stands in your kitchen, loading the Keurig with his cup of Joe for the morning.

"Well, I need more." You say firmly, crossing your arms.

Miguel shakes his head. "The fact that they take up nearly the entire new shelf I bought you is crazy on its own. You sure you don't want a fancy dinner, maybe a little vacation, just you and I? Movie? Some earrings?" He tickles your earlobe and you swat him away playfully.

"No way. Build-a-Bear or bust."

Miguel smiles, won over by your persistence. "Well, it seems I don't stand a chance against you this time." He sighs and pours the steaming coffee into a mug, blowing on the hot drink lightly. "I'll take you to Build-A-Bear, if I can choose the restaurant we go to afterwards?"

You press your fingertips together like a villain making a deal.

"Very well, O'Hara. You drive a hard bargain, but alas, I shall concede this time and let you have jurisdiction over our choice of dining."

Miguel shakes his head. "I'll do without the theatrics."

You walk up to him, craning your neck to look up at him and lean forward into his chest with both hands on either side of his waist. "Let me be dramatic in peace. You know I can't stand surprises when it comes to food."

Miguel sets his mug down and holds your face in his hands. "Are my restaurant picks really that terrible?"

You suck your cheeks in like a guppy and Miguel leans in to give you a little peck. "Nah. But preferably not Subway again."

Miguel's face curls into a smirk and he tickles your sides which you start giggling in response, trying to to push him off. "Thought you wanted to go to the place where they 'make the food in front of you'?" he says teasingly.

"Stahhhppp it!! I- *giggles* I-I meant teppanyaki, genius! Not freakin Subway."

Miguel starts kissing your cheeks, alternating between each one, causing your stomach to flutter.

"My apologies, baby...you're right, I'll make sure to pick somewhere extra special this time."

His hands slip under your shirt, making you get a little weak and your eyes droop.

"Mmm-promise...?"

He gives you a soft lingering kiss, and mumbles quietly against your lips, "Te lo prometo, cariño." (I promise you, dear)

-----

Your plan worked. Now you just had to get some help from Lyla. You wanted your own stuffed animal for Valentine's Day of course, but you wanted something extra special made for Miguel that you could give him at dinner, too.

You stood in front of Miguel's desk with Lyla, drumming your fingers anxiously as she was trying to download and email the file you were needing for his present before he returned from his lunch break.

"How much longer, Lyla?...." You asked, trying to keep the impatience in your tone in check.

"Almost there, almost there....." Lyla chided, jumping from one end of the holographic screen to the other. "Annnnnnd.....okay I sent it! He's gonna cry when he sees it dude, I hope you're ready."

You smile and then jump when you hear Miguel's voice. "Ready for what? And what are you doing here in the middle of the day?"

You whirl around and Lyla dissipates, trying play it off like both of you weren't up to anything.

"Nothing! Lyla was just saying uhm...she was just making sure I'm ready for tomorrow because apparently you chose a really fancy place for dinner this time." You grin, your heart racing in your chest.

Miguel gives you a suspicious look, but it turns into a smile as he scoops you up, planting you on his desk with your legs on either side of him. He gives your thighs a little squeeze and looks at the screens behind you as though he didn't buy your excuse entirely. "Hmmm...I did choose a fancy place for dinner tomorrow. I just hope Lyla didn't spoil it already..."

Lyla regenerates next to Miguel's ear. "Secret's still secure, boss!"

You nod, backing her up. "Honestly, she didn't tell me anything. Even though I was begging."

Miguel smiles and presses his forehead against yours. "Someone's impatient."

"I'm just excited! That's all..." You lean in , putting your hands on Miguel's shoulders and he helps hoist you back down.

He nods. "Trust me, you'll love it. But, dare I ask what you and Lyla were actually up to before I walked in?" He gives you a little smirk as he moves past you, setting up his workstation once again.

You quickly avert your gaze, doing your best to shield your true intentions. "Um...well, maybe there is gonna be a little surprise for you tomorrow too." You look up at him and he has a warm smile on his face.

"Really? Surprise f'me, hmm?" He pulls you back in by your hips.

You smile and rest your hands on his shoulders. "Yep. But key word: surprise. So you won't get to find out until tomorrow."

Miguel nods and ruffles your hair. "Very well, as you wish, ma'am." He calls out to you as you head for the exit. "I'm gonna try and guess what it is all day now!"

You turn your head and shoot one last teasing smile his way, "Love you baby!"

"Yo también te amo."(I love you too)

------

Next day, Valentine's Day

You and Miguel walk arm in arm into Build a Bear. You smile giddily and run up to the bins with all the different animals to choose from. Miguel smiles and stays a few paces behind you. He sees a cute couple with their little daughter and it pulls at his heart strings a bit. He looks around the little shop at the other families, and little kids running around and it creates a lump in his throat. He was afraid of this happening today. Valentine's Day and any other holidays would always end up reminding him of his sweet little girl every time going forward. It was bittersweet in its own way.

You were like a shower of rain upon the aching desolate plains of his heart, bringing with you a special happiness he never thought he'd be able to feel again. He fiddled with the ring on his pinky that held your blood in it as he watched you.

One of these days he wouldn't keep you waiting any longer.

He's ripped out of his thoughts when you call for him.

"Baby, I'm having a hard time choosing which one I want."

Miguel walks over to you where you have a yak in one hand and a red teddy bear in the other.

"Get em both." Miguel says, kissing your forehead.

"But..." You start to protest but Miguel shakes his head, already escorting you to the line in front of the stuffing station. "Thank you so much baby. You spoil me."

Miguel chuckles and says with a small wink. "Well, it's Valentine's Day...but don't expect this to be a regular occurrence."

You smile mischievously, "Oh, well in that case I'm going to milk this opportunity for as long as I can."

Miguel wraps his arm around you and sighs. His wallet may be on fire by the end of the night but anything for his valentine.

He watches you with a tender expression as you scrunch your nose slightly and close your eyes when you make a wish and kiss the small red plush hearts that go inside both stuffed animals. The employee takes them with a smile and hums as she stuffs both of them for you.

Miguel watched, fascinated by the machine as the stuffing churns and gently brings each animal to life.

"Alright, honey, give both of those a hug for me and make sure they're stuffed just right."

You hand Miguel the red teddy. "Can you make sure he has enough stuffing, babe?"

Miguel looks a little bewildered at first but gives the teddy an awkward little squeeze. "Umm,...he feels soft enough to me, I guess. Maybe he could use a rounder belly?" He points out the bear's small pouch.

The employee smiles, "Good call!" She stuffs the red teddy a little bit more and hands it back to Miguel. "How's that?"

Miguel gives the red teddy a fresh squeeze, his belly a little bit more full and firm now. "Perfect." He hands him back to you and you take it with a smile.

"Thanks, baby!"

Miguel's watch goes off with an incoming call from Lyla. "Perdóname..."(forgive me) You nod and give him a reassuring smile and watch him walk outside to take it, unaware that you and Lyla orchestrated the distraction.

Perfect. Everything was going to plan. You walked back to the bins and scanned them looking for the perfect one. You chose a tan, fuzzy rabbit with droopy pink ears and handed it to the employee. "Can I get this one too, please?"

-----

Later, you and Miguel are walking to his car with three cardboard stuffed animal carriers. "Can you carry this one baby?"

The corner of Miguel's mouth raises. "Got yourself an extra one?"

You smile. "Nah I got that one for you! But you can't look at it until we get to the restaurant. It's your big surprise."

Miguel smiles and looks at the box curiously. He wasn't used to receiving little presents and surprises like this until you came along. He felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his veins as he looked back at you. "You shouldn't have."

You smile and kiss the back of his hand you're holding. "Course I should have. You're my valentine."

Miguel gives you an affectionate smile in response and you two drive to the restaurant, a gentle flurry of snowflakes begins to dust the rooftops of Nueva York as the daylight wanes.

----

Your hands start to get clammy as Miguel leads you into the mystery restaurant, eyes closed. You hear the familiar restaurant clatter and rush of the indoor environment, then you feel the chilliness of the outside again, then quiet and warmth greets you in an unfamiliar, new setting.

"Abre los ojos, muñeca..." (Open your eyes, doll)

You look and your breath catches in your throat at the sight around you. Miguel reserved a clear, outdoor igloo on the rooftop of one of Nueva York's finest restaurants. The night was turning an imperial blue now, the light now scarce with grey clouds smearing the corners of the sky except where the snowflakes were falling through.

Source: Pinterest, from this online article.

Twinkle lights adorned the inside and outside of the igloo, creating a whimsical feel with tall outdoor heaters supplying warmth. There was an inviting couch with several decorative pillows and blankets adorning it. A sleek table sat in the front of it complete with soft glowing candles, antipasto on a wooden plank, and two wine glasses.

Your heart melted almost as quickly as the tears rushed to the corners of your eyes as you stood on tiptoe to give Miguel a kiss of gratitude.

You felt him smile against your lips. "You like it?..."

"Baby, I love it. Thank you so, so much..."

Miguel sits you down and you both get cozy underneath one of the blankets, lifting up your wine glasses to toast the evening.

"To you....let tonight become another sweet memory we can look back on together," he says.

You smile in agreement. "And here's to my ring finger not staying vacant for much longer."

Miguel chuckles as you click glasses. "It won't, baby, I promise you that..."

You feel your heart pound in your chest at the words he spoke combined with what you know is coming next. You turn and pick up the cardboard carrier, presenting it to him. "Time for your surprise, babe..."

Miguel grins and takes the cardboard box from you. He jokingly shakes it as though a feral animal were really inside, then cracks it open.

You giggle, then bring your hands to your lips in anticipation.

Miguel's eyes widen as he finds the tan, fuzzy stuffed rabbit with floppy ears, then his lips fall open as he takes it out.

The rabbit is dressed in a little blue soccer uniform and has a little red bow on one of its ears. Miguel's heart freezes in his chest at the familiar realization. He looks at you with surprise. "Baby...is this..?"

The tears have gotten to you already. You nod, trying to speak through the lump in your throat. "Press its paw..."

Miguel presses the rabbit's paw.

His favorite voice in the world...one that he hadn't heard in such a long time...the one that brought him so much happiness but also ached his soul. The sound that signified all his grief. His love with nowhere to go.

The voice of his little girl is heard... clear as day.

"Te amo y te extraño, papá. Eres el mejor padre del mundo. Besos de Gabi." (I love you and miss you, papa. You are the best father in the world. Kisses, from Gabi)

Miguel just sits there in awe, unable to speak. He presses the rabbit's paw again, as though to make sure he heard it correctly. Gabi's sweet voice speaks again, and he brings the rabbit to his chest, clutching it. Miguel is silent with his eyes closed, and then you notice his shoulders start to gently shake as his quiet sobs can't be contained anymore. He's just a loving father missing his baby girl.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love..." You whisper, taking Miguel into your arms.

He lays his head against your chest, still clutching the rabbit, hot tears still running down his cheeks, unable to speak.

"Thank you..." He says at last in a hoarse whisper. "I miss her..."

You nod, his head still tucked in the crook of your neck. "I know, baby...I'm here...."

For the longest moment in time, it's just you two holding one another, the sweet rabbit sandwiched between your two hearts that surely can't contain the overwhelming adoration that has just blossomed and brought you two even closer together from this tender memory. No words are needed, but when he finally regains his strength, his brings his eyes to look at you, two sweet rubies glossy with a window of tears.

"I love you so much...you have no idea how precious this is to me..."

Your face melts, your own lovely eyes caked in emotional tears.

"I love you, sweetheart. You'll never know how much I do..."

Miguel shakes his head. "I have a pretty good idea...it's my love for you that you will never be able to comprehend, mi vida..."

You bring your lips closer and he greets them with his own. Warm and cozy, you two let the emotions of tonight speak for themselves in this soft gesture. Two souls in love in a little starlit igloo while the Valentine's Day snow carries on outside, the love between you two more than enough to keep you warm.

-----

Later, you two are chest to chest, your neck craned a little bit as you gaze up into those vermillion eyes, a love song accompanying your casual sways back and forth, fingers interlocked in a loving clasp.

The sweet stuffed rabbit, Gigi, sits among her two new friends, Yogurt, the Yak and Maraschino, the red teddy on your pillows which will be greeted by you and Miguel shortly.

Miguel drags his thumb along your bottom lip, pausing in the middle. His warm, sweet breath greets yours and you let him in, the caress of his tongue quickly making the kiss quite passionate as your lips move softly together.

You break apart, his eyes locked deliciously on you. Your chest rises in shaky, excited breaths as you feel his hands gently make their way to your clothed breasts.

Miguel notes your flustered reaction and smirks a bit. "Tired...?"

You flash him a little smile and press your forehead against his. "I can afford to lose another hour..."

A soft groan rumbles in his chest and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, skimming past the chain that holds the little vial with his blood over your delicate heart.

You feel the tiny vibration of your zipper buzz against your back as he drags it down.

Miguel whispers, "Let's make that two..."

-----

💌🥹💕

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spotify #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara fluff #miguel ohara fluff #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x fem!reader #Spotify

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 9 months

Text

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Chapter six makes it's appearance. I'm once again so thankful for all the love.

warnings: past trauma, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of sexual interactions, therapy.

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Nothing cut through the numbness. It felt like grief all over again. Just this hit Carmy in a completely different way because no one else was feeling what he was feeling. No one else understood. No one else cared. The apartment that beforehand was a safe sanctuary for him. A place where Carmy could finally breathe. Where he could strip away all pretense of composure. Where he was free to crumble. Where you always were. Reaching for him. Holding him. Hugging him. Soothing him. Now it felt like a cage. Like a cruel - in your face. Constantly shouting at Carmen, you fucked it, you fucked it, you fucked it this time.

No matter where Carmen turned, he saw you. The bedroom was still somewhat full of your clothes. There were pieces of your you all around, so the morning when Carmy found that you had left one of your favorite rings behind, one that he had watched you look at for weeks, one that he had bought for you out of one of his first bigger pays, he had slipped it onto his chain. Turning it between his fingers when anxiety struck. Telling himself that you didn't leave it because you hated him; you left it because you were in a rush, and now, once in a while, you remembered it and didn't feel complete.

Carmy had sat in the living room almost every evening, flipping through your books and the old portfolios. Trying to grasp that sense of you. Keep it locked in the apartment; don't let it fade away. Even leaving some books that you usually read open before he dragged himself to the restaurant so that when he returned he would see them like that. Used. And until his brain caught up, a sense of you being there would flood him. A rush of hope would fill him, only to be crushed. Because you weren't there, and the more days went by, the more he doubted you were ever coming home to him.

Were you, by any chance, doing any better? No. Where Carmy struggled with constant glimpses of you, you were crushed by the lack of Carmy around you. While the anger was fresh, it soothed you. That there was no resemblance to him in Copenhagen. That you were miles away. That he didn't know where you went. That you didn't have to fear bumping into him in the street. Until all of that went sour. Until it all left you feeling nothing but alone.

Copenhagen felt as friendless as Chicago, if not more. And you had locked yourself in the restaurant's toilet, sobbing with a palm over your hand. When you realized that it was never about a country or a city. Sure, Chicago wasn't your number-one pick, but it definitely wasn't the worst option. It was not about the apartment or its size. All those things didn't make up a home. Because none of them were meant to last. People moved around constantly. Preferences changed too. It was Carmy who was supposed to be forever. Carmen was your home. No matter the location you were in. Anywhere you went, it would be manageable as long as he was by your side.

After that realization, a second wave of sadness hit. Because now everything in Luca's apartment felt off. Felt so not Carmy-like. It felt wrong being here, hence why you started to barely spend time there. It was too clean. Too put together. You missed your little mess. The mess you made together. Missed the fact that Carmy was storing his denim in the oven, even if you bickered over it. Missed your piles of books or how Carmen looked laying between them. Missed knowing what the nooks and crannies held.

Most nights now, you sneaked out of Luca's embrace. Thankful that you managed to jolt from your sleep without waking him up. Yet feeling guilty that nothing but you was making him so tired. During those nights, the voices in my head barked the loudest. Not good enough. Unlovable. Replaceable.

You hated that even your mind was against you. Altering your memories. Scarring your heart and self-esteem even more deeply. If before you only saw yourself as small. Humiliated over and over again. Yelled till your skin crawled. Spat at and shoved around. Now. Now it was always you walking up the stairs to your apartment. Happy to show off the new project that your professor had approved. Only to open the door to the trail of clothes. Carelessly splattered around the place. Carrying an assent of lustful rush. The dread and denial. Shaky steps as you walked towards the bedroom. Ignoring the obvious. Still childishly trying to convince yourself that the obvious moans were only in your head. But they were not. Because right in the same bed you slept in hours ago, your boyfriend was balls-deep inside a girl you've never seen before. Ezra's face had faded through the years, which your mind used to full advantage. So now, night after night, without even needing to fall asleep, all you saw was Carmen fucking Claire, smiling back at you with a sickly smirk that didn't suit his features. Until you would jolt up, trying to push the image as far away as you could.

"Hi...", Carmen was standing outside the somewhat old building. One hand in the pocket. A hat on his head because he was feeling anxious. Too seen. Too out there. "You don't have to reply", he added shortly after, just as anxiety about not knowing what to say next crept in. "I hope you are safe, amm...", He's been doing this ever since you left. The next morning, he ran out to buy a new phone. Your number was the only thing he cared for. It soothed him in a way. To still somehow have this piece of you. His only chance to reach you. "I'm also sorry, really sorry", he blurted out, brushing his hand over his mouth and feeling the tears pick up slowly. "You call... or write, or anything when you want, yeah?", he said with a voice so small, without a doubt, you'd be able to feel just how lost he was, right? You knew him better than anyone else. "You can call to yell if you want to, just be okay, okay?", Carmy added, taking a sharp breath in, a moment of silence. "I will go now. I'm going to that meeting. You know the one", his voice trailed off, followed by the sound of beeping.

"Here you are. For a second, I thought you fled Copenhagen", you jolted slightly, head immediately turning to the side where the sound came from. The delicate features that Luca carried instantly made you ease up. His hands were full of different plates, and for a split second you wanted to jump up to help, but then you remembered that he was way better at all of this than you would ever be, so you left him to it until he was right by the little table you were seated by.

One thing about Luca's place that you did grow to love was the upper-level balcony. Since his apartment was on the top level, the views were incredible. So full of freedom. Never-ending breeze. You sneaked here often now, even during the night. A blanket in your hand as you cocooned your body in it. Letting the wind carry your thoughts away.

"Is that...", Luca pointed to the sketchbook that rested on the side of the table. Your eyes fell onto the piece of paper as well. Knot instantly tightened in your throat, yet you managed to grog out, "Carmen yeah...".

Luca nodded softly. No big reaction followed suit; no disappointed remarks. In a way, that's why you loved Luca so much. His first reaction was never to judge or put you down and make you feel small. Most times he didn't agree, but he never put himself in a position where he would try to make it seem that his opinion in some way was more important or more right. Luca wanted to understand and help you understand where all of it was coming from.

So you weren't too surprised when he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?". You hesitated at first. A logical part of you was aware that you shouldn't be doing this. Drawing someone who you were still upset with. Who had said loud and proud that another woman was the only good thing from his past. But your body, all the little cells, and the soul itself were too firmly intertwined with Carmy's for you to just walk away without turning back.

"I listened to his voicemails and", you sighed, reaching for the sketchbook before handing it to Luca, "Drew him while doing so". You watched the way his gaze danced over the paper. Falling over every inch of it, following every line. A sudden urge to yank it from Luca's grip arose, but you only held onto the sleeves of your shirt tightly. "When was the last time you drew?", Luca asked, his eyes now meeting yours. "Just now", you stated blankly, and Luca instantly rolled his eyes, letting out a low huff, "Okay, smart-ass, I'm being serious".

And you knew that he was. Painting had been a big part of you for as long as you could imagine. At the age of ten, you had gotten into so much trouble when you painted over all the hallway walls while your parents were away. The end outcome wasn't pretty because no one was happy, and well, you got a rather big punishment, but that was the first time you realized that this was the only way you could breathe. Process the world around you. Deal with all the big emotions. "Over a year ago", you muttered, suddenly unable to hold Luca's gaze. "And how does it feel?", "I can still do it", you shrugged your shoulders quickly. Luca let out a low laugh, "And do it really well. Scary, actually, looks like he's looking straight at me".

Your heart skipped a beat at those words. And maybe that's what you wanted to capture. What you had been missing the most. The depth of Carmy's eye. The light blues dancing in them. The way nothing else mattered when he was looking at you. How you always felt safe under his gaze. How loved and seen they made you feel. You bit down on your lip, shutting your eyes tightly and fighting the tears.

"You didn't have a proper conversation with him", Luca's voice was sweet, calm, and all, but his words rubbed a wound too sore still. Too aching still. "Oh, the conversation was more than proper", your tone was much sharper now. Like a bee ready to sting, like a scorpion. Pushed in an unwanted direction. "With him panicking and you deep in your head? Your and my definitions of proper are different, bunny", Luca huffed. You knew this was coming. You could tell from his body language over the past couple of days. He fussed over you for the time being. But now he was upfront, trying to push you to move, not just sit there and dwell. "Don't do this", you muttered, silently pleading with him to drop this for a bit longer. Because you still didn't know. You didn't have an answer as to how your heart was feeling.

"Right, what's the plan then? You will hide in Copenhagen for the rest of your life?", it was a jab, and it definitely hit the mark perfectly.

"If you don't want me here, just say...", you pushed your chair back quickly, feeling the frustration growing within you. Fight or flight mode activating instantly. "You're deflecting", Luca said softly, and this time his velvety voice made you snap. "Fuck you", you hissed, ripping the drawing out of his hands and backing away instantly. "Bunny", and it's so much more like order now. No longer a gentle caress. Making you stager in your steps. "I have to give you a nudge because we both know...", Luca started, but you quickly cut in.

"Know what? That I'll get back with him, just like with Ezra? That I'll forgive a cheater? Will I get my heart broken, and you'll have to be the one to pick up the broken pieces?", now you were less than a step away from Luca's face, finger jabbing in his chest as the words spilled out of your mouth. You wanted him to fight back, to get mad, but instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to his just as the tears spilled over your face.

"Well, I'm still Carmen; I talked about my brother and his addiction and all that, but...", those meetings were exhausting. Truly. Leaving Carmen barely functioning after. But he still went. He listened at first. To everyone. To their stories. Pain. Losses. It didn't drown out his own pain. No, it stayed the same, but he managed to talk about Mikey, but he stopped midway because ripping these wounds open was so painful. Too painful, and he always imagined he wouldn't be alone.

"I always thought that the first time I would come here, I would have my girlfriend...my... my girl, with me", Carmen said, swallowing thickly. "She was there when I got the call. She...", he shook his head, "I don't even remember how those days went. She fed me, she showed me, and she helped my family plan it all. Well, she almost did it all herself because of my family." Flashes of you dipping in and out of the family house filled his mind. Carmen rarely thought of that day. He wanted his mind to destroy whatever it was. His mother screamed. Richie was trying to calm her down. Sugar sobbed while begging Richie to be more gentle, and Carmy just sat there. He remembers how his mom threw the flowers you bought for the grave at him, or maybe at you. But you stepped in, right in front of him. Water and petals hitting your chest. A shiver ran down his back.

"She gave up her life to move here, and I never told her what it meant for me", Carmen quickly tightened his fist at the anxiety. "My family loved Claire... Claire is not my girlfriend", he added quickly, almost in a defensive manner, "I grew up with all the Claire so pretty now; you should be with her; she would be so good for you. I... Had never been good enough for them, and I just...", he stuttered, "When I saw her now, I was like, what if this is the only way to bring my family back? Finally, do something and make them all happy?", Carmy quickly ran a hand over his face. His palms were sweaty. He felt those same tingles running through his body. "But it felt so wrong, so... like a ghost from the past suffocating me, and in revisiting that, I... lost the most important thing in my life". Biting his lips, Carmen tried to look straight again. The weight of those words leaving his mouth stung and he sure was not prepared for it.

You wanted to stay at the apartment. The outburst of emotions still hung heavily on your shoulders, but Luca was going back to the bakery, and he was determined to drag you out of the house. Even if you stayed there for five minutes, it still meant at least a solid four minutes of walking outside. His arm was draped over your shoulders. One of his AirPods was in his ear, the other in yours, as you listened to one of the old playlists you two had made together. Luca convinced you to see your old therapist once more. "At least a couple of times", he had reasoned, "Till you sort through everything that's going on in here right now", he had pointed to your temple. You agreed because putting your mental state on his shoulders was just too much. Luca already had to deal with your nightmares. Not to mention the outbursts like today.

You were a second away from asking him if he'd need your help around the back or if you'd be able to just eat whatever Chris decided to place in front of you when your phone rang. You stopped instantly. Your eyes darted up to Luca. You weren't sure what you were silently asking of him, but you were more than thankful when he reached into your back pocket and pulled your phone out. "Unknown number", Luca muttered, watching your face pale. Your heart sank instantly. What if this is the hospital? What number was called when they found Mikey? Have they found Carmen? You placed your hand on Luck's chest, steadying yourself. One of his arms wrapped instantly around your back as he pressed the green button. The cursing on the other side filled your ears, and you instantly closed your eyes.

"Hello", Luca said, but it felt like the caller didn't even listen. "I just quit", the voice said, and your head instantly jarred towards the phone. "I quit, so did Marcus, and... Wait... Sorry...Must have", you quickly snatched the phone from Luca's hand. "Sydney?", you asked wearingly; you must have forgotten to put her phone number into yours. "Yeah, it's me, and Marcus is here", you heard a distant hello that made you smile weakly. "What's going on? What happened?", you asked, hearing a deep sigh leaving Suddenly lips, before she muttered something to Marcus, "It's insane here without you. Carmy is an absolute piece of shit".

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Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child @arieltwvdtohamflash @simsiddy @yezzyyae @hidingfromtex @toptierbunny @rooster-bradshaws @literatureluater @hellokitty4eva

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #luca the bear #the bear tv show #the bear x you #the bear x reader #the bear imagine

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whoopsyeahokay · 1 month

Text

October Sun

summary: your mother had warned you. Don't let them know, she'd said, her nails digging angry crescents into the flesh of your upper arms, eyes wild and imploring, don't let them know you can see. you'd listened, all these years, you'd lived your life by that rule. until you couldn't.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.1

Like most things, it started with a look.

A boy. A girl. A crowded place; a friend talking—their voice muted as if heard through a motel wall. Time slows. People filter in and out of the space between, chatting, laughing, in frame just long enough to emphasize the weight behind something that, in any other context, would be utterly unimportant.

Simon had urged you outside at lunch, pulled you away from your table, tone frayed in desperation as he interrogated you about things you're certain you'd made seem the expression of a morbidly quirky imagination.

"Well," He said, like jabbing the eraser-end of a pencil into your sternum, "Can you?"

You hesitated, gaze lifting away from his to skirt the middle-distance behind him.

And then—

It happened molasses-slow. Your eyes caught his; lingered a beat too long to be played off as anything other than what it was. Acknowledgment.

Those sweet-sultry cow eyes widened a fraction.

Oh no.

Then time rushed back in and snapped into the correct rhythm. You didn't have a chance to process what had just happened because Simon sighed with the weight of the world, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. Quickly, you arranged your expression into something slightly put-off.

"Si, what are you talking about?"

Simon groaned and took a few steps back then forward again. He reminded you of a caged animal being forced to perform. Lately, his mannerisms had been erratic, a little unhinged. You'd caught him talking to himself a couple of times, in classrooms or the cafeteria. The last couple of days he'd been glued to his phone, taking spontaneous calls that he'd never received before. Initially, you'd assumed he was in touch with Maddie; the only one she'd trusted enough to keep in the loop. However, the more you'd observed, the more you'd doubted the assumption.

You'd watched him unravel from a distance, of course. Nicole had turned inward, Simon was bursting at the seams, and you, as the casual friend with a life separate to theirs, stayed away out of a sense of insecurity.

You and Maddie hadn't been as close as she and Simon and Nicole. You shared interests in the macabre and spooky, but that's where it ended. Event Buddies who became familiar through exposure, lacking that profound connection that would give you a reason to call about something other than the next horror film release date.

You didn't feel right about asking to share their grief. It felt intrusive.

Simon paced the length of the bus shelter once more before stopping in front of you. He was clearly nervous, frustrated, avoiding your gaze for a second while he collected his thoughts.

Finally, he took a deep breath, glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, and said, low and secret, "You talked about the ghosts here—" You folded your arms and tilted your head in what you hoped came across as confused. "—Last year," Simon grabbed your arm and pulled you in closer when a group of younger girls walked by, "Last year, you told us about the crush you had on your mom's dead boyfriend, remember? The guy who died during the '83 homecoming game?"

"They never dated." You corrected, fighting the urge to chew your lip. A giveaway that you were about to choose your words very carefully. "But, look, Simon, I talked about that stuff because I thought it was fun. Not because I can commune with the dead."

"But your mom—"

"Is a fraud and you know it." Then you frowned, genuinely intrigued, "What's going on?"

Simon shot you a dazed look, "Huh?"

"Why are you suddenly into this Sixth Sense shit? You've never believed in it before. A stance you've made very clear you take." Every time you joked about reaching out to the Other Side, Simon would scoff and roast you endlessly. Something that you found endearing. Like a prickly inside joke. It was your thing.

Suddenly, Simon got that look on his face, the one he got in class when your teachers outlined your homework. As if he were listening to someone. Except there was no one else close enough to hear.

The silence stretched into a thin static between you until, at last, Simon said, "Never mind." He sounded equal parts defeated and aggravated.

Taking a cautious step forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Maddie, Si, I—" Have no idea how to put into words how fucked up it all is, "—I wish there was something, anything, I could do to help."

Simon pressed his lips together and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching the bus shelter. Tall, broad, donning the unmistakable colors of the Split River Bandits, née Devils. You had to get out of there before you irrevocably fucked up and found yourself at the center of what your mother warned you would be a swarm.

"Look," You dropped your hand to Simon's, squeezing supportively. You might not have been able to tell the whole truth but you could try to offer some comfort. Whether or not he believed you was up to him. "Maddie's okay, Simon. Wherever she is. Whatever happened to her..." You paused, considering your next words, "She can't be so far gone that we won't get her back."

You said it with all the conviction you had in you, believed it to your core.

You'd seen the beatnik with her lollipops, the shy boy with the glasses; you'd seen the young man in the outdated suit, and the modest, Sally Olsson lookalike, and the girl with the daydream eyes. You'd seen the myspace emo punk, the lanky autoshop geek, the dark-skinned disco queen; the marching band, and the theater kid...and him. The charming, high-on-life football star currently stood outside the bus shelter, his hands cupped around his eyes as he peeked through the glass against the glare of the sun.

You hadn't seen Maddie. Not a glimmer or a shadow or the impression that she'd been and gone. Nothing. And you'd done your due diligence as soon as you'd heard about the blood in the boiler room. You'd scoured the town after dark, before school, whenever you could get away without raising suspicion. Her old haunts and favorite places had been empty.

Minus a couple of exceptions, but they hadn't been Maddie, so you didn't see the harm in continuing to keep the truth from Simon.

"Yeah." Simon said. He didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. For that."

You deflated, released his hand with an affirming squeeze, and made your excuse, "I gotta get ready for next period."

He didn't meet your eyes, simply pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. "See you later." The smile he gave you was tight, quick, insincere.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned and exited the bus shelter, tall dark 'n' handsome keeping pace as you made your way back into the school, his gaze a warm weight on the side of your face.

All you had to do was pretend he wasn't there. You'd done it countless times in the past, were well-versed in how to cover your mistakes.

You stopped briefly, reached out to open the door, and in that second, you felt a tingle up your spine and the closeness of a body behind you. His voice, low and teasing, spoke directly into your ear, the parody of soft breath tickling the hairs on your neck.

"I know you can see me."

You forced yourself not to react, perhaps stood a second too long before yanking the door open and marching inside, but you kept your eyes forward, and relaxed your jaw and shoulders. To the students milling about the hall, you were the picture of normal.

"Do what you want but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." He said lightly, a step behind you as you maneuvered toward your locker.

Once again, you had to stop, twisting in the combination to open your lock. You fumbled, missing a number, had to start again. He leaned his shoulder against the locker beside yours, watched you through his lashes, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth upward.

You'd always been attracted to him. Had to suppress the urge to stare at him when he appeared in the same classroom or hallway you happened to be in. Having him interact with you, intentionally, made your heart quicken and the ability to think critically dissolve.

Oh God, not again...

Your brain fired a thousand synapses in every direction as you willed yourself to hurry before you accidentally did something stupid; steadied your hand to input the combination correctly. You tugged the lock. It stayed stubbornly latched. And then he leaned in, too close, the tip of his nose practically grazing your temple.

"You missed the 3."

The air was syrupy thick, fuzzy. In an effort to concentrate, you closed your eyes, repeating a mantra your mother had taught you to center yourself.

You sensed his body shift, tilted further toward you like a bracket, then the sensation of blunt nails traveling up up up your back, catching in the material of your shirt as if the touch were real. Goosebumps erupted over your arms, your breath hitched, and you found your head slanting in his direction.

Fuck. You needed to—BANG—Jesus Christ!

Your eyes snapped open at the abrupt noise, your friend cackling wickedly as she took in your shock.

"Hey, silly." Mathilda Grace—of The Split River Graces, not that she'd ever say it like that—grinned proudly at the reaction she'd gotten out of you. "You ready to fail this test with me?"

You could still feel him hovering, but it seemed he'd put an appropriate amount of distance between you. Shaking your head to clear the last of the muzziness from a moment ago, you plastered on your most natural smile and responded, "Let's go disappoint our parents."

You managed to undo the lock and grab the right textbooks, transferring what you didn't need from your bag into your locker while Mathilda regaled you with what you'd missed after Simon had dragged you outside.

"What did he want, anyway?" Mathilda asked, more concerned than curious.

"To talk about Maddie." You replied as close to the truth as you dared. It had the added benefit of making Mathilda feel awkward enough to change the subject immediately.

"K, c'mon, bell's about to go and I need to grab my book, too."

Shutting and locking your locker, you chanced a sideways glance and were relieved to find that it was just you and Mathilda and the regular stream of other alive-and-well students making their way to their next class.

Still, as you and Mathilda walked toward Ms. Fields' class, you felt the tingle of his gaze on the back of your neck.

The next couple of days would be white-knuckle hard, but you'd dealt with it before and could do it again. Had to do it again.

What you didn't anticipate—and probably should've, given what you knew about him—was Wally Clark's steadfast determination and his refusal to let sleeping dogs lie for a second time.

💀___________________________

PART TWO

note: i'll just leave this here for now :) i have a whole idea, fully fleshed out, but am also developing an actual Series Compliant fic that uses some of the same elements as this story 😅

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

Note

20 for the tav/astarion ask😊

A/N: Reminder that this is based off the Ace!Tav from "I Want It All" and therefor also a bard. I'm picturing this after they get together.

Also, small note. Obviously, I’m still happy to do the prompt, but in the future when making a request, remember to at least say please. I’m not a machine neither is any other writer on this platform.

Prompt: bandaging/stitching up an injury

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Your hand was throbbing; a steady reminder of why you usually kept to the back in most fights. Your strength lie in talking, not throwing punches. Still, there were times it couldn’t be helped. Luckily for you, Astarion was there to give you as much grief about it as your body already was.

“You really ought to have Shadowheart take a look at this,” he said, carefully dabbing away the blood on your knuckles with a damp rag.

You shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Besides, she’s got her hands full with Wyll and Karlach.”

He hummed in obvious annoyance. He knew you were right, but he didn’t have to like it.

“It may have escaped your notice, but you have spells,” he pointed out. “Next time, I’d suggest using them.”

“Maybe,” you allowed, “but you have to give me points for efficiency.”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap your hand.

“Have you always been so quarrelsome or am I just lucky?”

“I prefer the term scrappy. Has a certain charm to it.”

He scoffed. “What like a mutt?”

“A really cute one,” you elaborated. “One of those you just want to clean up and take home. Such as…”

Your eyes went to your joined hands and the very gentle way he was attending to your injuries.

His eyes narrowed before pulling the bandage just a little too tightly.

“Ow,“ you said, dryly.

He raised an eyebrow, daring you to argue.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. If I get into a tavern brawl again, I promise to hide under the table and let somebody else do the fighting.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, darling.”

He tied off the bandage, allowing you the chance to test the feel. Your hand still stung, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about further straining it.

“Tell me doctor, will I ever play the violin again?” you asked, dramatically.

“It’s impossible to say,” he said, matching your performance. “But if there is any hope of recovery, I suggest you spend the remainder of the evening in the arms of the most beautiful man you can find.”

You nodded solemnly. "If I must, I must. Where is Gale?”

Astarion frowned and the next moment you were being pulled into his lap, as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Bold words for an injured mutt,” he growled into your ear.

“Woof.”

He didn’t have anything smart to say to that, deciding to silence you with a kiss. You conceded, happy to stay right where you were for as long as he’d have you.

You really needed to try punching things more often.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion baldur's gate #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #asexual!tav #asexual!reader #bard!tav #asexual #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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lionheartedmusings · 3 months

Text

bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope — there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

#qsmp #long post #siudghiusdfg THIS IS OVER 1K WORDS SOMEONE SAVE ME

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just-jordie-things · 9 months

Text

[part thirteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 5.6k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part thirteen] : “Melt My Soul” ___

How long after a traumatic incident does your body begin to process it? A minute? A day? Or was it the very moment the incident took place?

Does the soul know that this event was going to change the body forever? Or is it the body that processes the trauma the quickest, in order to protect the soul from the impending pain and grief?

It feels as though someone had drilled into (y/n’s) bones, and filled them with metal. Quick hardening, heavy, toxic metal. It keeps her trapped in place, stuck.

So stuck, she glances down to study the concrete of the sidewalk, just to see if there was a curse there keeping her put, or cement being poured over her feet.

But no, there was nothing holding her in place. It was simply her own mind, processing the scene before her too slowly for any of her other bodily functions to operate.

She’s standing outside of a KFC, of all places, close to Shoko’s side, and just barely hiding behind Satoru. She doesn’t exactly mean to be hiding, but again, she can’t bring herself to move. Her hands are curled into fists so tight that they’re shaking- or was that just me? She wondered, and hoped at least no one could notice.

Shoko did. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of (y/n’s) trembling hands since she’d arrived.

Neither of them had said a word, but even if they weren’t frozen in shock, there wouldn’t have been a chance to. Satoru hadn’t offered even a moment for someone to cut in with their own piece of mind.

“What’re you getting at!?” He snarled loudly, not caring about the non-curse users passing by, just trying to go about their days.

(y/n’s) eyes landed on a particular disgruntled couple, who hastened their steps upon seeing the public display. How she wished to be them, at this moment. What a luxury, to find this scene annoying, maybe mildly entertaining.

To think the world as she knew it was crashing down around her, burning up into a crisp. If only she could walk away and roll her eyes.

“If I could be you…” Suguru speaks and it sounds rehearsed, calculated, as if he’d had this conversation before. “Wouldn’t my impossible ideal become possible?”

“You can’t be serious” Satoru’s voice finally drops in volume, and (y/n’s) eyes dart from one friend to the other.

She stares at Satoru hard, trying to read him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. It’s useless, because she already knows. She already knows exactly what he’s thinking, because she’s thinking the same thing.

Satoru’s hand curls into a fist, and when (y/n) notices it, she relaxes her own hands, which suddenly feel sore from how long she’s kept them tensed. Her palms feel raw as the cool breeze hits them.

For the first time since she’d arrived, she opens her mouth.

“Don’t do this, Suguru,”

All eyes are on her now as she steps forward. Her entire body is aching, maybe from the intense workout she’d done before warping here, maybe from the way the heartbreak is killing her soul.

But then again, what was one more heartbreak?

“Just- just come back, okay? Come back home and we can- we can talk this out”

Satoru and Shoko stare at her, surprised by the offer, wondering if she meant it, that she’d forgive him for his heinous crimes against non-sorcerers, against his own family.

What they don’t know is she’s speaking without thinking. The words that fall from her take a piece of her heart with them, making them sound like the most sincere thing she’s ever spoken, but truthfully, she just doesn’t want to accept that this is who Geto Suguru was now. She wanted to give him a chance to prove it all wrong. She wanted to give them all a chance to forget the last few months and go back to normal.

Suguru chuckles, shaking his head and plastering on a smile.

“Ever the hypocrite, (y/n),” He says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Her posture stiffens, and her features harden too. Forgiveness was only Plan A. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she fights the urge to curl them back into fists.

“Your exhaustion becomes you,” Suguru continues, with a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are pointed at her with a venom (y/n) can recognize even from the distance she’s at. “I see you’ve made your choice”

It’s a comment that doesn’t make sense to the others, but (y/n) knows fully well what Suguru was getting at. Her teeth grit together.

“Don’t you speak to me about choices!”

On it’s own angered accord, her arm shoots over her shoulder, fingers wrapping firmly around the hilt of one of her swords. Before she can unsheath it, Satoru’s hand is around her wrist, halting her.

Her head whips towards him so fast she hears a joint pop in her neck, but she’s not bothered by the unsettling crack, consumed enough by her rage to glare at him, silently demanding to know why he was stopping her. Satoru doesn’t say a word, but when he slowly releases his hold on her, she doesn’t try to draw her weapon again. The fire in her eyes doesn’t die as he holds her glare.

Suguru laughs to himself, shrugging his shoulders.

“I suppose this is goodbye, to all of you”

Satoru and (y/n) look back over to him, neither of them knowing what to say. Shoko is wilting behind them both, not having said a word since Satoru and (y/n) had shown up.

Suguru raises his hand, giving what appeared to be a friendly wave. It feels like a finishing blow. With that, he turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t summon one of the many curses he could have used to carry him away at high speed. He simply strolls away.

Satoru raises his arm, and (y/n) watches with baited breath as he positions his middle and forefinger to his palm, tucked there by his thumb, and keeps it aimed directly at Suguru.

It’s only for a few seconds, but with her breath caught in her throat, it felt like ages.

Did she want him to do it? Her heart pounded in her chest, getting quicker with every beat. Did she want to stop him, just as he had stopped her? Did she want to beg him not to kill him?

The question hits her, and her breath is finally released, a heavy, shaky exhale that makes her entire body deflate.

Did she want Suguru to die?

Satoru lowers his arm, although his eyes are still trained on the spot his best friend once stood. He was gone now, lost in the crowd of people. Leaving the three of them to stand together, staring at that spot, at a loss for words.

What was there to say? Their best friend had defected, he wasn’t the person they knew, he was a murderer.

(y/n’s) the first to move, although it’s staggered, she takes a step back, putting distance between herself and the others. Satoru and Shoko look at her with worry, and Shoko even reaches out a hand, as though to help stabilize her. (y/n) takes another step backwards.

“(y/n/n)...” The girl whispers, but (y/n) can’t even meet her eyes. Her own eyes are glazed over, locked in a fixed position on the ground.

I can’t dwell on this, she thinks to herself rationally. Her heart begs her to let go, to sit down, to breathe, but she ignores it. I need to move on. I need to focus on Megumi and Tsumiki. I can’t let this distract me.

“(y/n), slow down,” Shoko’s voice is closer to her now, and (y/n) barely registers how her hands set on her shoulders with a feather-light weight. “Breathe”

She doesn’t notice her breathing has gone ragged, uneven. She’s panicking. This is a panic attack.

Move on, she wills herself to get over the incident like it wasn’t her present situation. Think about the kids, and move on, she tries anyway, because she has to.

The funny thing about trauma was that you couldn’t bend it to your will. It hits her now that her chest is heaving, her mouth is dropped open as she gasps for air.

Shoko’s trying to get her to focus, something about matching her breathing, and looking at her, but (y/n’s) vision was blurry, and she couldn’t hear a thing over her pounding heart and her own thoughts.

You only have two days left to prepare, she reminds herself. In two days, the Zen’in Clan is going to come for Megumi, she repeats it like a mantra, a toxic coping mechanism to combat the panic threatening her body.

She had no time for things like panic and fear.

If you don’t get it together, you’ll lose them. And if you lose them, what will you have left? You’ve pushed everything away to protect them, you put your life on pause, and you’re about to risk what’s left of it by challenging one of the most prominent families in Jujutsu Society.

Finally, her head snaps up, wide eyes meeting Shoko’s, who flinches upon the contact, and then she turns to Satoru, who was now also standing before her. (y/n) doesn’t say anything as she looks between them both, and neither do they, at first, but their concern is evident.

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, leaning in closer as he speaks. She holds his eye contact, but it doesn’t look to him like she’s processing a word he’s saying. “(y/n),” He says her name, catching a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Can you breathe?”

You don’t have time for panic, the voice in her head reminds her ruthlessly. You don’t have time for any of this.

She looks back to Shoko, whose tears are spilling onto her cheeks, after too long of holding back her emotions. Her lip quivers, and her hands tighten on (y/n’s) shoulders, gripping the fabric of her uniform shirt.

You need to leave, the voice commands, and she doesn’t give it a second thought.

She draws her hand upwards, not noticing the violent tremble of her entire arm, she brings her middle and pointer finger to her forehead, closing the rest of her hand. Satoru recognizes this motion instantly, and jumps forward to rip her hand away from her head.

Using Hexing Eye so recklessly couldn’t be good for her right now. She hadn’t perfected it, hadn’t learned to use it as a means for teleportation, and without a hex in place, she was bound to lose consciousness as soon as she warped.

(y/n’s) faster, throwing herself backwards just as she closes her eyes and focuses her mind on her dorm room.

“Don’t-!” She barely hears Satoru’s voice before she’s warped away. It’s distant, almost an echo, almost dream-like.

Her body lands hard on the floor of her room before she even has the time to open her eyes again. With a groan of pain, she tries stretching her already aching limbs.

I guess that’s why you don’t teleport while mid-fall, she thinks bitterly, pushing herself off the floor on a shaky arm. Her legs aren’t any better, wobbling like jello as she half-drags herself onto her bed.

She’s going to be bombarded by Satoru and Shoko later, for this defiant act, she knows. And even as her strength is giving out and her vision is blurring in focus, she thinks it was what she had to do.

She tries to plan on what she’s going to do tomorrow when she sees the Fushiguro kids, but she loses consciousness just as their faces flicker in her mind.

Using Hexing Eye without a hex on the place she was warping to still wasn’t a viable form of transportation.

A tear slips down her cheek as she passes out, still in her uniform, mind still swarming with half-baked strategy plans, and fear.

Despite finally getting a few hours of sleep after two days, it wasn’t a night of rest. ___

When (y/n) picks up the Fushiguro kids from school the following afternoon, they can see her weariness right away. Even though she smiles, and excitedly asks about how their last couple days had been, they can see through it all.

The bags under her eyes are dark and heavy, and she’s moving slower, almost stumbling over her own feet. Tsumiki and Megumi share a look of concern, neither of them knowing how to approach the subject. As involved as (y/n) was in their lives, she hadn’t been very open about her own life outside of them.

Tsumiki takes her hand as they walk home together. She knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to catch her if she fell, but she hoped that it was enough to bring her some sense of comfort.

Megumi tangles his fingers together, picking at his skin nervously. He’s reminded of the day in the park, when he’d seen her talking to a supposed friend from her school. He remembers how she’d looked when she’d told him that a fellow peer of hers had passed away.

She has that same look in her eye now, he notices.

(y/n) feels him staring at her, and when she looks down at him, she gives him a smile.

It looks genuine enough, but he knows it isn’t. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

Once they get back to the Fushiguro house, (y/n) is quick to whip them up an afternoon snack while they get started on their homework. Tsumiki and Megumi get right to work, quietly focused on their assignments.

(y/n) sets down the plate of snacks between them, quietly praising them for working so hard.

As she takes a seat next to Tsumiki, Megumi notices the way her body seems to slump into the chair, as though melting into it. He quickly lowers his gaze back to his homework, but the sight troubles him.

She looked like she was going to drop and pass out any moment.

He tries not to worry about it, because she might not be a real grown up, but she was older than he was, and she was always put together like a real grown up. Megumi knew that he looked up to her like a grown up, and grown ups didn’t look like this.

He didn’t know what he was looking at, really.

Both kids finish up their homework quickly, and are quick to gather on the sofa to watch tv and relax for the evening.

(y/n’s) slower, still sat at the kitchen table while they dove into their program. She was still mulling over her options, trying to figure out if it was wrong to hide the letter from them, or if it would be more wrong to tell them about such an adult matter.

Which wasn’t fair, she cursed herself, hanging her head in her hands. She wasn’t an adult either, she shouldn’t have to deal with all of these decisions either.

Despite her better judgment, she decides to put it off for just a little longer.

She gets up from her seat, and slowly makes her way over to the living room sofa, plopping herself in the space between both kids.

“So, what are we watching? Catch me up” She tells them with a smile, and Tsumiki happily fills her in on the drama in her favorite characters’ lives.

(y/n) tries to sink back into that familiar, domestic feeling she’d grown accustomed to when she’d first joined their lives. That sense of normalcy that she’d tethered herself to. But even as she engages with Tsumiki, asks her silly questions about the show, she can’t help but fear this may very well be the last normal night she spends with them. Tomorrow was Friday, so she wouldn’t see them, and the next day… well, the next day she’d have to face the Zen’in Clan.

Before her mind can derail further, (y/n) feels eyes burning in the back of her head, and she turns to see Megumi staring up at her, completely turned away from the tv.

His expression is neutral, but his eyes are hard as he holds his stare on her. She almost feels uncomfortable, but she covers it with a small chuckle and a quirked brow.

“Somethin’ wrong, Megumi?” She asks.

His eyes shift to his sister, who gives a small shake of her head, warning him not to say anything about (y/n’s) troubling demeanor. Megumi sighs, and sinks back into the couch, focused on the tv again.

“No” he mumbles back to her.

He’s not a good liar, but he’s eight, so (y/n) lets it go. He seems to relax as he watches the show, anyway, so she figured whatever it was, couldn’t be too big of a deal.

The rest of the night continues in the same way. Until eventually she’s bringing them both upstairs to put them to bed, just like she always does on nights she spends with them. Except tonight, Tsumiki hugs her for a little longer than usual, and Megumi lingers in front of his bed, unwilling to get it.

“Megumi,” (y/n) calls softly from his doorway. “Are you alright?”

He turns around to face her, revealing the book in his hands. Charlotte’s Web.

He hesitates before speaking.

“I’m not tired…” He says, but his voice sounds slow and sleepy. “Will you read to me for a bit?”

(y/n) smiles, nodding her head back at him.

“Yeah,” She agrees, not thinking twice about the time, or how she should be getting back to Jujutsu Tech soon. “Yeah, of course”

“Can we go back to the couch?” He asks.

(y/n) wants to ask why she can’t read to him while he’s tucked into bed like she usually did, but she quickly assumes he’s just being a kid that wants to fight sleep, so she nods her head.

“Sure” She agrees with a smile, and steps out of the doorway so he could lead the way down the stairs.

Megumi climbs onto the couch with his book in one hand, his other hand reaching for the ratty old throw blanket on the cushion beside him. (y/n) takes a seat beside him, taking the book and flipping to the page that he’d last marked.

“How many times have you read this now, anyways?” She asks.

Megumi ducks his head shyly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I dunno,” He admits. “It’s my favorite”

She smiles as she looks back at the page before her.

“It’s becoming my favorite too” She says, before she starts at the top, and begins reciting the story she’s told him many times before.

She gets through about a chapter and a half, with Megumi curled up in his blanket beside her, his eyes following along as she reads. He’d had most of the story memorized by now, it really was his favorite, but he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

His voice is quiet when he cuts her off mid sentence, but (y/n) stops speaking instantly, turning to give him her attention.

“What is it?” She hums, her finger holding her place in the book.

“Tsumiki said it was rude to ask,” He began, his eyes focused on his lap. “Are you okay?”

(y/n’s) brow furrows in concern, but Megumi doesn’t look up, too busy playing with his fingers.

“It’s not rude…” She says slowly, trying to find the right thing to say. “And I’m okay”

It’s not very convincing.

Megumi looks up at her, blinking his wide eyes as he stares at her in disbelief.

“You don’t look okay,” He says, and it’s blunt, but it’s the truth, and he doesn’t know how else to make her be truthful with him, too. “You look tired. And sick”

(y/n) chuckles at how intuitive he is.

“I appreciate the concern, honey,” She says, trying to play it off. “But don’t worry about it, I’m just fine”

“Did you have another mission?” He asks.

(y/n) winces, shaking her head.

“No, not exactly,” She says honestly. “I’ve just been… busy… that’s all”

Megumi frowns, not caring for the bullshit answer. It wasn’t like her to lie like most adults did, when they thought they were being smart and misdirecting. (y/n) almost laughs at how such a young boy can tell when she’s beating around the bush.

“Megumi, you don’t need to worry about me-”

“But you worry about us all the time,” He mumbles defeatedly. “And you don’t look very good so… so we’re worried about you,”

He blinks, and (y/n) swears she even sees tears in his eyes. Fretting over him, she closes the book, and brings one leg onto the couch so she could face him properly.

“Can you just tell me the truth?” He asks quietly.

(y/n) sighs, but nods her head. When he asks her so sincerely, she can’t bear to lie to him again.

“Of course,” She says, because if he’s telling her it’s what he needs, then it must be the right thing to do. “Megumi…” She starts, but the words fail her as soon as she tries.

How does she explain her situation to an eight year old?

“I… I had a friend. A close friend,” She begins.

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“A boyfriend?”

“No,” (y/n) scoffs, pushing his shoulder gently. “I’m too busy raising kids, I don’t have time for a boyfriend. But this was my best friend. And he… well he recently left the school”

“The one from the park?” Megumi tilts his head.

(y/n) frowns, before turning her face away to quickly hide the sadness of the whole situation she’d been trying to bury. It appeared she had quite a friends that weren’t around anymore, for whatever their reason. Megumi also frowns at this.

“No… no this is a different friend,” (y/n) says quietly. “Do you remember when I told you about the sorcerers who… who don’t want to follow the rules?”

“That they defect?” Megumi asks.

If it didn’t break her heart, (y/n) would praise him for his sharp memory.

“That’s right,” She murmurs. “Well… that’s what’s happened to my friend,” She tells him. “He didn’t want to follow the rules anymore, so… he left”

“Oh…” Megumi looks back down at his lap. “Did he die?” He asks quietly.

“No, no he didn’t die,” (y/n) said.

She lays her palm between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back comfortingly. Even as she censors some of the truth from him, she feels like her words are still putting a weight on his shoulders.

“I’ve been sad because he left,” She tells him. “I probably won’t ever see him again”

I hope I don’t see him again, she thinks.

“That’s worse,” Megumi says sadly. “I’d rather know that they’re gone forever for a reason”

(y/n) feels her heart leap into her throat, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about his dad. She’s surprised a child so young could understand how she feels. It hurts her more, knowing he’s experienced this same heartache.

“I think I’d have to agree,” (y/n) hums, raising her hand to mess up his hair. Megumi looks up at her with a frown. “It’s not easy being a Jujutsu Sorcerer,” She tells him. “I never said it was easy, never thought it’d be easy…”

Megumi pulls her hand out of his hair before she could mess it up further, before he fixes the messy locks himself.

(y/n) looks at him, and swallows the lump in her throat that makes her want to cry. If only he were older and she could explain all of this to him.

“But listen, Megumi,” She leans forward, and hopes he can take her seriously, even for just a minute. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’ll be just fine,” She gives him a smile. “I’m sorry I made you worry, but you don’t have to worry that little head of yours about me anymore, alright?”

Megumi isn’t sure if he should believe her, but she ruffles his hair again with a laugh just to mess with him, and when he swats her hand away she only laughs more, so he thinks she’s okay, for now.

“You know you don’t have to raise us, right?” He asks.

(y/n’s) eyes widen at him, stunned to silence.

“It’s okay, if… if you have to go. You have a lot to do, don’t you?” Megumi drops his head again. “We would understand. We would be okay”

Her heart breaks, and before thinking, she reaches out and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Megumi, I’ve told you before,” She has to focus on keeping her voice even. “I’m sticking around whether you want me to or not”

His hands cling to the back of her shirt.

“There’s nothing that would make me leave you guys. I knew what I was getting into when I met you both. I knew what I was getting into when I started looking for you. And I’m still not going anywhere”

She rubs his back and keeps hugging him until he pulls away. Her focus remains on him, and she frowns when she sees tears on his face. Her fingers gently reach out to brush them away.

“I know you won’t just leave” Megumi sniffles.

(y/n) takes his little hands, smiling at him fondly.

“I won’t ever leave,” She whispers. “I’ve put a lot of trouble into watching out for you two. You’re important to me. And I’m going to make sure you guys can have everything you want”

Megumi musters up a small smile.

“Okay,” He mumbles, pulling his hands away to wipe the rest of the wetness off of his face. “Can you read a little more?”

(y/n) smiles warmly, and nods her head.

“Of course,” She says, picking the book up again, flipping through the pages to find the spot she lost.

Megumi gathers himself up in the blanket once more, and when she finally finds their place and begins reading again, he leans against her arm. He might have an eight year old’s willpower to stay up late, but the tiredness had finally caught up to him.

It didn’t take long before he fell asleep against her. (y/n) stayed still for a while, marking her place in the book and setting it aside while she sat quietly with the sleeping boy.

She petted his head gently, untangling the knots in his hair with careful fingers, and making his body relax more as he drifted deeper into his slumber. Even long after he’d fallen asleep there, she remained by his side.

I hope you believe me, Megumi, she thinks as she lays her own head against the back of the couch cushion, suddenly finding the old thing the most comfortable place she’s ever rested. And I hope you forgive me.

She drifts off to sleep with her hand on his head, and hopeful thoughts that she can do right by him. ___

With a jolt, (y/n’s) body is thrown forward in bed, tears streaming down her face and her hand outstretched, reaching for an imaginary figure, one that had been suffering before her in her dreams, but now was nowhere to be seen.

Panting to catch her breath, she tries to tell herself it was just that, a dream. Well, a nightmare. It was over now.

“(y/n)?” A tired, raspy voice rang out, before a warm hand smoothed over her shoulder. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Satoru,” She breathes out his name as she turns to face him, a relief spreading through her chest upon seeing him there. “You’re here”

Her breathing steadies as she looks at him, his sleepy eyes and disheveled hair a sign that he’d actually been sleeping comfortably. She was surprised, considering he’d spent most of his nights in her room to dote on her, to ensure she was the one that slept well. Since Yu’s death, she’d been plagued with nightmares, the reminder that even jujutsu sorcerers face their mortality had been brutal.

“Well ‘course I am,” Satoru mumbles, giving her a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

She’s not sure why, but when she’d first laid eyes on him, his presence had shocked her before it had relaxed her. Her brows furrow as she wonders why that is, but she quickly brushes it off and lets herself relax.

The nightmare was over. She was here now, and so was he.

With languid movements, Satoru props himself up on his elbows, his eyes flickering over her curiously.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, pulling his hand from her shoulder to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. “Your nightmare?”

(y/n) pulls her knees to her chest, keeping her arms wrapped around them so she could comfortably rest her chin there. The longer she was awake, the more the horrors of her dream seemed to fade away, until it was just a few flashes of images that barely made sense.

“I think I’ll be alright,” She replies, laying her cheek against her folded arms so she could look over at him. “Satoru,” She hums his name softly. “Thank you, for staying with me,”

He gave her a look, displaying his confusion with her sudden sentiment.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” She says. “And I should have, a long time ago. So, thank you. For everything”

Satoru sits up, mimicking her position as he rests his arms on his legs, staring at her with an intensity behind his cerulean eyes that only she seemed to be able to take on directly.

“You want to thank me…” He says slowly, before his brows furrow. “When all of this… has been your doing?”

The chill that shoots down her spine seems to spread over her heart. The relaxation that had settled into her bones now replaced with freezing cold fear. (y/n) lifts her head up, unblinking as she stared at him.

“What?” She mumbles, her voice barely audible.

“You couldn’t track down Toji, and I almost died” Satoru spits out.

“No…” (y/n) shook her head in a small but trembling motion. “No, I… I followed him for days I- I did everything I could to-”

“Tch,” Satoru scoffs, the disgust evident in his face now as he glares at her. “And then you don’t even have the guts to fess up,” He mutters. “You sneak around and lie and cheat. What makes you think it will be any different?”

As he snarls at her he shoots forward, and she flinches, hard enough she had to steady herself so she didn’t tumble out of her bed.

“You think that you can protect them? You?”

She’s still shaking her head, unable to find her voice, or any words to defend herself. Where was this coming from? Why was he doing this?

“You can barely operate your own cursed technique, you have the ability of a first year, and you’re spineless, (y/n). It’s pathetic that you consider yourself a jujutsu sorcerer”

“‘I- I’m doing everything I-” She tries to speak, but it’s useless. Her breath had gone ragged and the panic inside of her was bubbling up too much for her to focus on speaking.

Satoru leans closer, and even though they’re both sitting, he towers over her as his glare hardens. She’s never seen him so filled with hate, and the fact that it’s directed at her makes her heart drop to her stomach.

“Your ‘everything’ isn’t good enough,” His voice is a low growl.

Tears burn in her eyes.

“How can you be the only one that doesn’t see that?” He laughs bitterly. “How are you the only one left that can’t see how weak you are?”

“I- I’m sorry-”

“Even your apologies mean nothing!” He yells now, and she squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at him any more. “You’re destined to fail, you’re weak, just like the rest of them. You can barely protect yourself, you think you can protect Megumi? Tsumiki?”

“I have to try!” She wails, but it’s drowned out by his vicious laughter.

“And when you fail, their blood will be on your hands!” He’s practically roaring over her.

She’s cowering, sobbing into her hands as she desperately attempts to wipe the tears from her face, but it’s no use. They won’t stop. Satoru scoffs at the sight, disgusted by what she’d been reduced to.

“Face it,” He mutters. “You could have stopped Toji, and you failed. You could have stopped Suguru, and you failed. Now you think you can take on the Zen’in Clan?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’ll die in vain” ___

“Stop it!”

(y/n) shot outwards, her strained voice leaving her throat in a pained cry, but as the blur in her vision clears away, and she gains her bearings, she realizes she’d just awoken.

A dream? She thought distantly, looking around herself, finding she was still in the Fushiguro’s living room.

That’s right… I fell asleep here… reading…

But she finds that Megumi is no longer sleeping at her side, and the blanket he’d had was now thrown over her lap. He must have woken up and gone back to his room. The realization that he’d given her the blanket to keep her warm brings her a moment of peace. Picking up the ratty material that was barely enough to keep her legs covered, (y/n) begins to calm down.

Her breathing calms, and she closes her eyes to focus on bringing herself back to the present. It was all just a cruel dream.

However it’s not as easy when she’s alone, she realizes. There was a time, although short, where when the nightmares would rob her of her sleep, there was always a comforting presence right there, ready to lull her back to sleep with a warm embrace.

And sometimes he’d read to me, she recalls.

Although the plaguing images of her nightmare had worn away from her mind now, she still feels a wetness pool in her eyes.

She missed him. Dearly so.

A tear drops to her cheek against her will, and soon she was quietly weeping into her hands.

Deciding to lay back on the couch, she gives in to staying the rest of the night at the Fushiguro house. She’d never stayed the entire night, but she was long past curfew now, and she was in no position to walk or warp back to Jujutsu Tech. She carefully pulls the small blanket over herself as she settles into the cushions. Her tears wet the place where she lays her head.

If she survived this, she’d have to thank him, for all the nights he stayed by her side, she recalls the short period of warmth that her dream had brought her. She hopes she can drift back into it’s sweetness. And then she’ll have to get on her knees and apologize for the rest of her life.

She knows she won’t earn Satoru’s forgiveness.

If I survive. ___

(a/n): wow that kfc breakup do be hurtin but it hurts so goood. reblog to dry ur tears <3 taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru @kamikokii @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @googlesheetshoe @vzleria

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader friends to lovers #friends to lovers #gojo satoru x reader series #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru scenario #satoru gojo imagne

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jpmarvel90 · 9 months

Text

Grief

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader, Sister Wanda x Sister Reader

Summary: After Clint's death, Natasha falls of the rails and her marriage is at stake.

Word Count: 6554

Y/n’s POV:

When Clint died, it affected everyone in the team. But most of all, it affected his best friend, Nat. After his funeral, Nat started to withdraw from everyone, including me, her wife. Her walls went up and she almost went into self-destruct mode. I barely saw her. She would be out all-night doing God knows what. Most of the mornings when she would eventually come back home, she was drunk or high.

She had stopped working, which was for the best anyway as she wasn’t in the right mind set for it. But work was always her outlet when things got rough for her. I barely saw her and when I did, she would talk to me. I was lucky if I got a good morning or goodbye. She would never tell me where she was or where she was going. At first I would wait up for her, terrified something had happened, then she would come in to bed in the early hours, not even addressing the fact she had been out all night.

Eventually, I would be asleep before she came in and then she would be gone before I woke up. I felt helpless that I couldn’t help her. I would try to get her to open up, but she would just ignore me. We started to argue more, something we had rarely done. If we disagreed, we would always talk about it. Even if we didn’t end up agreeing, it would rarely end up in a fight. Now, it seemed like just saying good morning would get a rise out of her.

The team were worried too, and they had all tried to help her as well. But it was no use. I spent so much time talking to my sister Wanda about how I was worried that she was slipping away. But she would encourage me to be patient and just be there so when she was ready to talk, she knew I was there to listen. But she was becoming nasty and the worst she got, the harder it became.

I would tell myself that she had lost her best friend, the man that saved her life and gave her a second chance to fight for what was right. If I ever lost Wanda, I would be devastated and know that I wouldn’t cope. I was Natasha’s wife. It was my job to be there for her, for better or for worse. But it looked like better was never going to make its way back again.

It was late on a Tuesday evening when Natasha stumbled through the door to our house. The smell of alcohol seeped off her and she looked a mess. When looked closer, I could see lipstick on her neck. I felt my heart constrict at the sight, but I wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions. “Nat, where have you been?” I asked calmly, making way towards her. She just started to giggle. “I wanted a drink.” She slurred out, pushing past me to the stairs.

I followed her and watched as she stumbled around trying to get herself ready for bed. I knew there was no use in talking to her now. She was drunk and probably wouldn’t hear anything I had to say anyway. So, I waited. I sat up in bed and waited until she woke up a few hours later. One thing about Nat was she never got a hangover so was always ready to function the next day. She looked at me surprised when she saw me awake and watching her. I heard her sigh, but we needed to talk. It had been 6 months since Clint died and she was getting worse. I know she is grieving but this isn’t healthy, and I hate not being able to help her. What sort of a wife isn’t able to comfort the person they love?

“Where were you last night?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and low, not wanting to frustrate her. But it didn’t work. “I was just out for a drink.” She said coldly, making her way to the bathroom. “Please Nat, I’m worried about you. I want to help you.” I said trying to contain the emotions. “I don’t need your help Y/n. I’m fine.” She huffed, doing everything to ignore looking in my direction.

“I know you’re hurting, and I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling, but you can’t keep doing this. It’s unhealthy.” I said and I could tell she was starting to get angry, but I wasn’t planning on backing down today. “Exactly, you don’t know what I’m feeling so just back the fuck off.” She spat, shoving past me to leave.

I ran down the stairs and blocked the door so she couldn’t leave. “Natasha, I’m your wife. I’m not going to force you to talk to me, but please talk to someone. You need help. I’m worried about you. I don’t know where you go and then you come home drunk and last night you came home with lipstick on you.” I said frustrated, my resolve breaking.

She slammed her keys down on to the counter and walked towards me not breaking eye contact. “I do not need you telling me what to do. Being my wife doesn’t give you some special pass to know everything about me. And the so what, I was having fun last night. Isn’t that a good thing?” She said with an evil smirk on her face. “Fun with someone else is that what you mean?” I ask, almost at a whisper, terrified of her answer.

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, someone who doesn’t badger me at every minute of the day.” She said it so casually, and I felt my heart shatter. She cheated. “I mean that little to you, that you would go and cheat?” I asked. “This just isn’t working anymore Y/n. Neither of us are happy. Let’s just cut our loses whilst we can.” Her words were cold and callous. “Nat, you don’t mean that. We’re married, we’ve been together for 8 years. You’re grieving and if you need space, then I’ll give it to you. But please, this isn’t the end for us.” I argued, tears filling my eyes.

“Well, maybe 8 years was enough. This isn’t the grief talking Y/n. I can’t do this anymore. I think we should break up.” She said, not making eye contact anymore. I felt sick and my legs were shaking. “Break up? You want a divorce?” I asked in shock, and she just nodded. I was speechless. I looked at her and I knew that there was nothing that I could do. I moved away from the door and walked away from her, tears streaming down my face.

When I heard the door close, as she left, I fell to my knees and broke down. I couldn’t believe that the woman that I had fallen in love with could do that to me. Not wanting to stay in this house any longer, I grabbed my bags and filled them with my clothes and anything I wanted to take with me. Which wasn’t much as I didn’t want the memories of this anymore. I locked the door and push my key through the letter box. I packed up my car and made my way to the compound.

I was greeted by Jarvis, and I asked where Tony was. As usual he was in his lab. I was making my way there when Wanda saw me and chased after me, trying to find out what’s wrong. “Y/n/n, please slow down. Have you been crying?” She asked as I ignored her and found Tony. “Y/n what do I owe the pleasu…. Y/n, oh God what’s wrong” He asked, his voice turning to one of concern. “Can I move back in please?” I asked with no emotion to my voice.

Both him and Wanda looked at me confused. “This place will always be your home, but what about Nat?” Tony asked and I felt myself shudder at her name. “She’s asked for a divorce.” I stated and they both gasped. Wanda pulled me into a tight hug. “She’s just grieving Y/n she didn’t mean it.” Tony tried to comfort me, but it was no use. I shook my head. “She said it wasn’t that. She wasn’t happy and she um. She cheated last night.” I shared and I felt Wanda’s grip on my arm tighten. I looked up to see her eyes going red. “I’m going to kill her.” She said but I grabbed her hand.

“No Wanda. It’s not worth it. Clearly, I was stupid to ever believe that she ever truly loved me. I never should have let my walls down.” Wanda’s eyes calmed and she looked at me with pity. “Please don’t put them back up Y/n. I can’t see you like that again.” She pleaded but it was too late. I didn’t plan to let anyone back in. “Tony, could you give me a number of a divorce lawyer? I’d rather get this done and out of the way so we can move on.” I explained.

I noticed his eyes move towards Wanda with concern, but I ignored it. “Sure, I’ll email you the details for when you’re ready.” She offered with a kind smile. I thanked him and made my way to my car to grab my bags. Wanda helped as we unpacked my things in silence. I had never felt so lost and hurt. Wanda could feel the pain I was in, and I could tell it was hurting her to see it. I started to block off my mind, not wanting her to her my thoughts. The first step to building my walls back up.

Third Person POV:

The team were shocked by Natasha’s actions. They barely saw her anymore, but how she so callously broke up with Y/n was something none of them expected. Natasha had never been happier than when she was with Y/n. They all knew she was hurting, but to cheat on Y/n and ask for a divorce was a complete shock. Although they understood that Natasha was grieving, many of them were angry at her.

Y/n had done nothing but be there for Natasha. She had never pushed, and she had taken every argument and insult that Natasha would throw at her in the heat of the argument. She stayed when many people would have left. Instead of working to get better for her wife, she pushed her away and did the one thing that was unforgivable. She broke Y/n’s trust the moment she decided to cheat. The team didn’t recognise Natasha anymore and they didn’t know what to do. They only person they thought that could get through to her was slowly falling into their own pit of depression.

Y/n thought she was being strong by hiding her feelings and focusing back on work. But the team could see past it. They knew she was hurting, and it pained them that they couldn’t help. When Y/n and Wanda joined the team, both of them struggled to settle in. But Y/n found it harder. She had spent more of her life in Hydra, and it took years before she was the fun, caring and loving person that the team grew to know. They were terrified that she was going to fall back to being that broken girl that joined the team 10 years ago.

Everyone was shocked when Y/n got divorce papers so soon. They thought she would give Nat time to realise her mistake, but Y/n was beyond hurt now and was doing everything she could to protect what as left of her heart. Wanda was most worried. Not being able to understand how Y/n was feeling scared her. Even in Hydra when Y/n would block Wanda from her mind, she still spoke to her. But this time she had totally shut herself off.

Y/n threw herself into missions and was nearly always away from the compound. For Fury it was great. Her success rate was high, and she never complained regardless of what the mission was. He started to use the fact that she was hurting to his advantage, which frustrated, Tony, Steve and Wanda. But Y/n passed all evaluations and was will which didn’t really given them a leg to stand on to stop it.

On team missions, it was clear that Y/n was reckless. Not with the safety of others or the success of the mission, but with her own life. On multiple occasions she would come back with some form of injury, but it wouldn’t stop her. Y/n main focus was to get the job done and protect Wanda. The last person that she truly cared for.

She still loved the team, but Wanda had been there her whole life. Y/n would do anything to make sure her sister came home in one piece, regardless of the cost. Wanda was the last person Y/n could lose. She knew she would never come back from that if she did. Y/n would rather die if it meant that Wanda survived.

It was a solo mission that ultimately brought trouble for Y/n. Fury had underestimated the forces that Y/n would go up against and within a few hours, Y/n was missing. Steve was leading comms from the compound and her tracker and comms were down. There was no sign of her. Tony started to do all he could to find her, whilst Steve had to have the difficult conversation with her sister.

He found Wanda in the common room reading when he took a seat next to her. She looked up and instantly her eyes started to gloss over. “Its Y/n isn’t it.” She said before Steve could say anything. He nodded sombrely. “She’s missing. Tony and SHEILD are doing everything they can to find her.” He explained and Wanda broke down. Steve was quick to pull her into his arms to hold her. “I can’t lose her Steve. She’s all I’ve got. I should have done more. She was hurting and I couldn’t help. My own sister. I let her go back to closing herself off and now she’s gone.” Wanda cried into Steve’s shoulder who tried to keep her calm.

“You did everything you could Wanda. Do not blame yourself. No one could have helped her in the state she was in. You being there was what she needed, and you did that. This was just her way of coping.” She consoled. “I’m terrified Steve. My sister can’t be dead.” She sobbed. “Y/n is dead?” both Steve and Wanda’s head shot up, anger filling the witch’s eyes when she saw the source of the voice.

Nat’s POV:

Losing Clint was the hardest thing I’ve had to go through. He was the reason I was able to make a difference and start to clear my ledger. He made a choice to save me and give me a second chance. One that lead to me gaining a family and a job that allowed me to make a difference. He was the reason I met my wife.

I knew I was pushing everyone away, but I couldn’t help it. I could feel the grief consume me and I was angry at everyone. So, I didn’t what I did best, I ran from my feelings. I knew I was hurting Y/n but in my mind, I didn’t care. I knew she would be there for me when I got my shit together. She didn’t push me at the start, and I was grateful for that. But then she would question where I was more, and I didn’t want to talk about it. So, I pushed her even further.

I started to dread coming home and seeing her. Our relationship wasn’t the same anymore. I know it was my fault but in the heat of the moment, I decided I wasn’t prepared to do that anymore. So, I did something I never thought I would do. I broke her trust and then asked for a divorce. I could see her heart break but the grief I was feeling was selfish and I didn’t care. So, I left.

If I had not been so fucking stupid, I would have seen that Y/n had done everything I needed to work through my grief. I was just too stubborn to do what I needed to. I let it consume me and I didn’t care who I hurt along the way. Even if that was my wife. The woman that I adored with all my heart. The woman I would die for. I was an asshole.

I lied to her. I didn’t cheat. Well, I guess technically you could say I did. I kissed another woman, then as it started to go further, I realised what I was doing and stopped it. I couldn’t do that to Y/n, even if I couldn’t see that everything else I was doing was toxic towards her.

After going on a 3-day bender, I found myself at the door of Clint’s old house, knocking. Laura opened the door with a smile which dropped when she saw my state. “Natasha, what are you doing here?” She asked a little shocked. I hadn’t seen her since the funeral. I could face her knowing that Clint was gone. Clearly my subconscious had brought me here. “I uh. I don’t really know.” I told her honestly and she was quick to pull me inside.

She made a pot of coffee and we talked for a while. I apologised for not being around. But she said that she was doing good. She had her good days and her bad, but she was strong for the kids, and they were finally started to heal as they knew that Clint wouldn’t want them to be stuck in a cycle of grief.

Her words hit home with me. If his wife and kids could move on with their grief, why couldn’t I? “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look awful.” Laura said with a smirk, but worried eyes. “Yeah, I’ve not really been dealing with everything so well.” I explained and she nodded. “So I’ve heard.” She responded and I looked at her confused. “I see the team regularly. Tony told me that you and Y/n aren’t together anymore.” She said and I was shocked that she knew.

“I must say, you’re a fucking idiot.” She said and it shocked me. “What?” I asked confused. “You let go, well pushed away, someone as great as Y/n. I never too you for the cheating type Natasha. I know you’ve been grieving but you were selfish. Grief doesn’t give you a free pass to hurt someone else.” She scolded me and my eyes dropped to my hands in embarrassment. “We weren’t in a good place. We were fighting all the time and it seemed like the right decision.” I defended.

“Well, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought. Y/n was terrified that she was going to lose you. That you’d end up hurt or worse. She did everything that you wanted until it was becoming too much. Then you broke her trust for what? Because she cared too much about you to let you throw away your life as you were doing. You know, Clint didn’t save you for you to fall back to your old habits.” She said sternly. She really wasn’t letting me off the hook here.

“I would do anything to have even one more minute with Clint. Yet you are happy to throw away the one good thing in your life?” She questioned and I could see the hurt in her eyes. “If you want to self-destruct, fine. But breaking someone who worked so hard to build themselves up is unacceptable. Life is short, don’t throw it away.” As she spoke, it was like a movie reel was playing in my head of all the horrible things I had done to Y/n over the last 6 months. Then I saw everything good thing she had ever done for me. I was a coward, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to fix what I’ve broken.

I spend the next couple of weeks with Laura. She helped me to get my shit together. Spending time with her and the kids help me to come to terms with losing Clint and finally being in a position I could move on and honour Clint in the way he deserved. I had to make myself better not just for me, but for my wife. I eventually went back home ready to fix things with Y/n. Firstly, I needed to explain to her what really happened that night.

I opened the door to our house, and it struggled to open as there was a pile of post. I picked it all up and was surprised when I saw a key underneath it all. I picked it up and realised it was Y/n’s key. I called out to her, but knew she wasn’t here as her car was gone. I made my way up to our room and saw all of her things were gone. I don’t know what I was expecting. I asked her for a divorce, so of course she wasn’t going to wait for me anymore.

After clearing up a bit, I started making my way through the mail and paused when I got to a large A4 envelope. I opened it and felt my heart complete shatter. It was divorce papers. Fuck, I was too late. I grabbed my keys and made my way to compound. I knew she’d have gone back there to be with Wanda.

Tears were falling down my cheeks the whole way there. I can’t believe that I hurt the one person I love more than life itself. How could I let my grief get to the point I was willing to let her go? When I got to the compound I ran as quickly as I could to find her but was greeted by a sobbing Wanda in the common room. Steve was holding her, and I could tell that he was holding back tears as well.

Then I heard the words that shattered my world. “I’m terrified Steve. My sister can’t be dead.” Wanda sobbed and I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I was speaking before I even knew it. “Y/n is dead?” I asked. They both looked up at me and I could see how angry Wanda was. Her eyes had turned red. She stood up and marched over to me and before I knew it, I was on the floor with a bloodied nose and Wanda stood over me.

Ok I deserved that. Jeeze she packs a hell of a punch. “This is all your fault! You were so selfish that you pushed her to her limit.” Wanda screamed at me. I could hear the pain in her voice. What had happened? Where was Y/n? Was she actually dead? I had all these questions flying around my head, but the words didn’t come out. At my silence, Wanda started to generate an energy ball. I prepared myself for the impact, but it never came.

I looked up and saw Wanda’s hands drop to her side, the energy ball extinguished. She fell to her knees, heart breaking sobs leaving her. I sat up and pulled her towards me. I hated seeing her like this. She fought my comfort but eventually gave in. When she had calmed down, she pulled away, the anger had replaced the sadness that filled her eyes a moment ago. “If anything happens to Y/n, I’ll never forgive you.” She said coldly and walked off.

Steve was looking at me like I’d never seen before. He was disappointed but also hurt. “Steve, where’s Y/n? What is going on?” I asked needing to know what was actually happening. Steve went on to explain what had happened and the guilt was just continuing to grow. “She shut down Nat. It was like she was when she first got here. Her only priorities were missions and protecting Wanda. I know you were grieving, but I never thought you’d ever be able to do what you’ve done to her.” I couldn’t respond to him. I knew exactly what I had done and how unforgivable it was. I just had to hope that Y/n would come back safe to try to fix this.

For the next two weeks we all worked as hard as we could to find Y/n. We attacked numerous Hydra bases in the hopes we’d get more information, but it was useless. The more time that went on the more we realised, it was a high possibility that Hydra didn’t have her and that she had been hurt, or worse, in a fight with them.

Over these weeks, I had slowly been able to gain the others trust back. Wanda still hated me, and I didn’t blame her for that, but we worked well together. We both had the same drive and we understood how the other was feeling. We often would end up in the kitchen late at night talking about what was going on in our heads. “When I lost Pietro, I thought I would never get out of the darkness, but Y/n was there guiding me back to the light. When she started throwing herself into missions, I knew it was only a matter of time before something would happen. I tried everything I could to get to her, but she had shut me out. I failed her.”

I watched the turmoil on Wanda’s face. I hated that I had caused Y/n to close herself off to the world again. “Wanda, it’s not your fault. I broke her when I promised I never would. She cares for you, and she would hate that you are blaming yourself.” I try to comfort her. She sniffles and nods in acknowledgement. “Why did you do it?” She asked quietly but her eyes were boring into me.

I took a breath. “It’s a shit excuse, but with all the fighting we were doing, I convinced myself that we were coming to an end, and it was best to end it. I was too lost to realise that I was the cause of all the fighting and Y/n was just trying to help. When I came home to find the divorce papers, it felt like my world stopped. I took her for granted thinking that she would always be there no matter how horrible I was.” I explained. I was waiting for another punch or yelling but nothing came.

Wanda looked at me with sad eyes. “Is that why you cheated?” She asked and was quickly shaking my head. “I didn’t cheat. Well not like she thinks. I lied.” I said and I saw a hint of anger in Wanda’s eyes. “You lied about cheating?” She asked clearly not believing me, but I quickly told her to go into my mind and see what really happened that night. When her eyes returned to their normal emerald green she sighed. “I’m terrified that I’m going to lose her, like I lost Clint, but she won’t know that I’m sorry and I truly love her. She’s my light, my life. I can’t live in this world without her.” I started to cry and was shocked when Wanda comforted me.

“You broke her walls down once, maybe you can do it again.” She said calmly. “You really think she’d let me back in?” I asked surprised. “There was one emotion she couldn’t shut off from me the last few weeks, her love for you. It was so strong she couldn’t block it off. That doesn’t mean that she’ll forgive you, but I know she got the papers to protect herself. She thought it would stop the pain, but it didn’t.” She explained and I felt a small bit of hope.

The next morning, I was woken by Steve rushing into my room. “The quinjet is about to land. Y/n is on it.” He said out of breath. I shot out of bed and ran with him to the landing pad. “Do we know how she is?” I asked, wanting to be prepared for what we were about to see. “No, Fury’s team found her but there was no report of her condition.” He shared. We arrived and I stood next to Wanda, taking her hand in mine to give her comfort.

We could hear an argument from the back of the yet. “Y/n, you need to go to the medbay, please just get on the gurney.” We could hear Bruce say frustrated. “I’m fine Bruce, I don’t need a bed. My legs will be able to carry me to the medbay and I’ll let you do what every you need to do.” Hearing her voice was a relief and I could hear Wanda let out a big of a chuckle. As Y/n appeared at the back of jet, I noticed that she was covered in cuts and bruises and her shirt was saturated in blood.

Bruce was walking next to her, helping her as she limped her way over towards us. Wanda was quick to let go of my hand and made her way to Y/n. She was hesitant but still pulled her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me! Don’t you dare do that again.” She scolded, but Wanda was quick to hug her again. “Here, let me help you.” Steve said, jogging over to help Bruce get Y/n to the medbay.

My heart rate was increasing with every step closer they took. Then our eyes met and for a brief moment it was like I couldn’t breathe. “As if getting shot wasn’t bad enough.” She muttered under her breath, but loud enough that I could hear. I followed as they took her to the medbay and watched as they started to patch her up. Wanda stayed with her whilst the rest of us observed from the waiting area.

Once he was done, Bruce came out to give us an update. “She’s doing good. Bullet wound to her shoulder and abdomen, but both were through and throughs. She did a good job of keeping them clean and stemming the bleeding until she was found. She got some small injuries such as broken ribs, fractured eye socket and a few broken fingers. But they’ll heal over time. She’s lucky.” She explained and we thanked him before making our way into the room. I took my place next to Y/n and couldn’t hold back anymore.

I grabbed her hand between mine. “Thank God you’re ok. I was so scared.” I said through tears. She turned to look at me, but her eyes were empty. Wanda was right, she had closed herself off again. She didn’t respond to me, but she also didn’t take her hand away. “What happened?” Wanda asked from her seat next to Y/n’s bed. “Mission went sideways. I was able to fight them off as best I could before I got hit. Thankfully I was able to get away. But the bleeding was too much so I took shelter in an abandoned hut. I was in and out of consciousness for a while and with no comms I had no way to call for help. Eventually I was found by a hunter and his son. They helped me get in contact with Fury and now I’m here.” She summarised.

Wanda held her hand tighter and ran her hand through Y/n’s hair. “I thought I lost you. Please, you have to be more careful and stop taking so many missions.” She pleaded. We were all surprised when Y/n agreed so easily. The team started to disperse, saying their goodbyes leaving just Wanda, Y/n and me. Wanda looked between us and stood up to leave. “I’ll come back later with some dinner.” She said but Y/n wouldn’t let go of her hand. I could tell they were having a conversation in their minds and obviously Wanda won when Y/n let go of her hand.

I sat in silence for a moment thinking about what to say, but it turns out I didn’t have to. “Have you signed the papers yet?” She asked coldly. Her words were like daggers to my heart. “No, and I don’t plan to.” I responded and she scoffed. “You were the one that wanted a divorce Natasha, just sign them and we can move on.” She retorted, not making eye contact with me once.

I know Y/n more than I know myself. I can always get a pretty good read on her. I thought it would be difficult if she had closed herself off, but I could tell she was in so much physical pain, that she wasn’t able to fight to keep those walls up right now. And I knew she didn’t really want me to sign the papers. She’s trying to protect herself. “I don’t want to move on. I want to make things right with my wife.” I said firmly. “Ex-wife.” She muttered and once again her words hurt. But I deserved it.

“You’re not my ex-wife. We’re not divorced yet and I don’t plan of letting that happen.” I insist. “If you don’t sign them, I’ll go through the courts if I have to. I have grounds for divorce. You cheated on me. My lawyer said that I can proceed with that alone.” She explained and I realised just how much she had done in a short space of time. “Well, I didn’t cheat, your grounds are gone. So how about you just talk to me for a moment before trying to force through a divorce that neither of us want.” I kind of shouted and I saw her flinch slightly.

“Don’t lie Natasha, you’ve already hurt me enough, please just stop.” She said, her voice cracking. “I’m not lying. I did kiss another woman that night. I was drunk and then as she wanted more, I stopped it. I didn’t sleep with her because even in my drunk ass state, I couldn’t do that to you. You don’t know how much I regret even kissing her, let alone then letting you believe that I cheated on you. Wanda read my mind, she can show you that I’m not lying.” I quickly explain hoping she’ll believe me.

“Then why did you say you did? Did you just want to hurt me?” She asked and I hated my response, but I had to be truthful. “At the time yes. I was angry and I thought the only way I could process everything was in my own stupid way. I was frustrated when you would try to help so I just pushed you away and then lied so I could get you to leave me.” I said shamefully, unable to keep eye contact. I could hear her sniffling and it was killing me knowing I was causing her pain all over again.

I then heard shuffling as she started to get out of bed, pulling off the wires attached to her body. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” I said jumping out of my seat to push her back into the bed. “I can’t stay here right now. My own wife just admitted that she wanted to hurt me. When all I had ever done was try to help her through her grief. I took every harsh word you ever said to me because I knew you were hurting, and you didn’t mean it. It was more important that I was there for you. But that night, I looked in your eyes and I could tell you did mean it. My wife, my Natasha, would never have treated ANYONE like that regardless of what she was going through.” She was crying and she was angry, and she was right.

I fight with her a little to make sure she stays in her bed. I can’t have her hurt herself anymore. “Please just stay here. You’ll make your injuries worse. If you want, I’ll leave and give you space.” I tried to bargain with her. She huffed and dropped back on the bed, giving a slight hiss in pain. “I don’t want space. I want to stop feeling all this pain. I want to stop feeling like the world is slowly falling from underneath me. I can’t do this until you let me move on. So just sign the god damn papers.” She almost yelled.

I did this too her. I caused this pain and turmoil by being selfish. But I wasn’t going to give up on her. “I’m not signing the papers.” I insisted once again. “I made you a promise on our wedding day that I would fight for us through anything. I broke that promise which I will never forgive myself for. But I still plan on living by that promise now. There is no one else like you in this world. You make me feel whole and without you there is just darkness. I let myself get lost in grief and used it as an excuse to act out. I know that you still love me. I also know that you are trying to protect yourself because you think that I’ll just end up hurting you again. So let me make one more promise to you that I will never break. I will never stop loving you and I will never hurt you again. Just please give me one more chance.”

I’m pleading to her through my own tears and every minute of silence is slowly killing me. I’m losing her, I’ve fucked up and I’m going to lose her. “Please, what can I do to get you to give me one more chance.” I begged. She sighed but looked up at me. “Go to therapy. You need to process what happened with Clint before you can commit to our marriage again. You need to help yourself before you can help me.” She said and I nodded along in agreement. “Anything for you. I’ll get myself sorted and I’ll be the best wife that you deserve. But you need to make me a promise.” I said, hoping I wasn’t crossing a line.

She raised and eyebrow at me but encouraged me to carry one. “Stop closing yourself off and going on dangerous missions to deal with your own pain. Wanda won’t cope if she loses you and I need my funny, caring, and loving wife.” I explained and she looked down to her lap, but she eventually nodded.

I sat on the side of her bed and pulled her towards me and placed a kiss on her head. “We’ll get through this. I’ll make everything up to you and we’ll be back to where we were. Ready for the rest of our lives together and maybe starting that family we talked about.” I said hesitantly, hoping she still wanted the same things that I did. “I love you, Tasha.” Those simple words brought warmth to my heart, and I started to sob into our embrace before responding “I love you too my Angel.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #Wanda Maximoff

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albaskies · 1 month

Text

Tears ricochet

It occurs to her all at once, her nose buried in his chest, his arms tight around her shoulders.

‘You’re alright,’ he whispers. ‘You’re alright.’

When she looks up to him, sees his eyes shut and his tense lips, she immediately knows he is not trying to reassure her. He is reassuring himself.

He’d found her in the Common Room, not long after he’d disappeared with Professor McGonagall behind the doors of the hospital wing. He’d walked straight to her as soon as he’d seen her, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s worried looks, and he’d held like he had not seen her since before he’d left the school with Dumbledore. He’d clung to her like he’d only just realised that they had been apart during a battle, that he’d been too far away to protect her, that he cannot be in two places at once. And it pains him, she can tell, it takes his breath away.

This must be it, she thinks - she knows. She clenches her fists, pressing her body onto his only for him to feel that she’s alive, she’s safe, she’s real. She won’t leave him, not until he’ll ask her to.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and noble.

No, she understands. Really, she does. It must’ve been somewhere hidden in the fine print on dating the Chosen One. Right under He will set off to top-secret missions with old wizards that end up dying, it’d say: He’ll push you away to keep you safe, and then: He’ll leave you behind, whatever that means. And finally: You must let him.

After all, her feelings are irrelevant in the bigger picture. There’s a war raging out there, for Merlin’s sake. Why would she even waste time fantasising about a boy she fancies when Dumbledore has died and her brother has been maimed? It’s only selfish to even fathom those silly feelings in a time like this, right? Right?

She forces her head back under the hot stream of the shower, lets the water flood her face and blur her vision, trying harder than herself to shut down that one intrusive thought she knows has now started creeping in the back of her mind. But she can’t. She can’t because she already knows, not so deep down, that he’s not just some boy she fancies, that her feelings aren’t silly, that what they share is there and it’s real, whatever it is.

Her mouth tastes bitter now. Ironic how Tom has ruined this for them, too.

She tells Hermione the following morning, when the boys have run off to find some lunch for them to eat under a tree. She’s not sure what she expects to get out of her, but she takes a shot at it anyway.

‘He’s going to leave me.’

Hermione opens her mouth but nothing comes out, her eyes sombre. Ginny realises she has been holding her breath.

‘You all are.’

Still, the warm July sun bathes the castle grounds as if summer does not care, as if it is all some cruel joke.

When it finally happens, at least she is not caught off guard. She manages to hold back her tears, just as she promised herself on countless occasions, because he does not deserve any more pain. He does not deserve any of it.

Funny how she is the one who is getting her heart broken, but she is still more concerned about his well being than anything else. Maybe this is what love is, she finally realises. It must be.

She reckons this is not the best time to tell him. Wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to.

On the train ride back home, she’s finally alone and free to let out all those tears she’s so stubbornly managed to hold back until now. She’s only human, after all.

She feels it all so distinctly now, the pain, the grief, the hurt, the hopelessness. But there is something almost peaceful about the deep-rooted, ever-present, plain old sense of acceptance that sits right on top of her stomach.

She knows it too well that the time has come for the Chosen One to prevail over Harry. The Chosen One has things to do, riddles to solve (Really, Ginny?, she thinks, half-smiling despite herself), and Harry has to oblige, head down, feelings buried, a wasted adolescence. It must be hard to love the Chosen One, that self-sacrificing, reckless, stubborn, noble git. But loving Harry, the real Harry, is the easiest thing in the world.

As for her - well, she knows she deeply cares for them both. Hell with that, she knows she loves them both. And, yes, she understands them both. She knows all too well what her role is, in all this mess. She really does know that the Chosen One had no choice but to break up with her before doing whatever he is set to do. She also knows that Harry never would have.

This is the only thought that will keep her going even months from now, when she will be fighting her own resistance battle.

As soon as she sets foot into her home, the all-too-familiar smells flooding her senses, she just knows she won’t be able to sit through an entire dinner without giving away too much. She’s too tired to lie and pretend.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she mutters to nobody in particular. ‘I’m not hungry,’ and: ‘Yes, I’m fine, I’m just knackered.’

Her mother stiffens, ready to let out a protest, but she turns on her heels towards the stairs before anyone manages to say anything. She can feel Ron’s eyes on the back of her neck, just as she’s felt his silent and constant gaze since they got off the train not so long ago. And when she hears his heavy steps behind her, following hers, she’s not even surprised.

They stop on the first floor landing, just in front of her bedroom door.

‘I’m fine, Ron,’ she quickly tells him, suddenly worrying that he’ll jump right into one of those how dare my best friend hurt my sister kind of rants. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

But instead, when she looks at him she realises that he’s not going to do any of that. His expression is miserable, sure, but it doesn’t take long for her to learn that he understands, too.

‘I’m so sorry, Ginny,’ he blurts out, no need to add more.

And that’s when it hits her, again, but much stronger this time. Maybe it’s because it’s someone else who is putting it in front of her, making it more real, or maybe it’s because she’s back home and the void left by Harry's absence is slowly starting to burn a hole in her heart. Maybe both, or maybe neither. It doesn’t even matter, that's for sure.

‘I’m sorry, too.’

He must have felt that something has changed, her voice has shifted and her eyes have filled with tears. She can read it all over his face - the distress, the panic, the what do I do now. She reckons she hasn’t cried in front of him since that train ride on her way to school in her second year. Must be new for him, must feel weird.

But even if his expression doesn’t seem to have a clue, his body certainly does - he stretches out his arm towards her and she grabs it right away, as if they have never really got rid of the long forgone habit of holding each other. He engulfs her in a warm hug, the Big Brother Hug, crumbling the last piece of guard she has managed to hold up until now. And then she just cries - she cries ugly, sobs and snot and all that. She feels like she’s twelve all over again.

Later, in her childhood bedroom, she sinks deep into her bed, ready to doze off into what she hopes will be dreamless oblivion. In that dark, quiet stillness, she can’t stop her mind from wandering to a time (or a fantasy, she isn’t quite sure) when this will all be over. He will slip into the very same tiny bed, squeezed right next to her, his hands gripped on her waist, lips pressed onto hers, then on her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Or maybe - no, maybe she will rest her head on his chest, listening to the sound of him breathing, and he will gently stroke her hair as if he’s never really stopped. Or maybe (and here she can’t help but feel a soft blush tickling her cheeks), maybe their bodies and souls will find each other, bare, warm, breathless.

‘I can’t believe I got this lucky,’ he’ll tell her, you know, after. ‘I can’t believe I get to live this life.’

‘Been dreaming of getting in my bed for long, now, have you,’ she’ll tease, her sardonic tone merely hiding her immense relief.

He’ll let out a small smile - small, yes, but finally light, free, and easy, so, so easy.

‘All those Veelas didn’t quite hit’, he’ll draw some imaginary quotation marks in the air and throw her a knowing look. ‘The spot, you know.’

She’ll snort a laughter in disbelief, and she’ll be so fucking glad, because as though everything will have changed, so much will have just stayed the same.

#first thing I've written in 10 years #not sure where I found the courage to post it #I needed to let it out #hinny #harry x ginny #angst #ginny weasley #harry potter #half-blood prince #deathly hallows #missing moment #I guess?#how does this work #help a girl out

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