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mangowillow · 7 months

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last to know | ch. 1: haunted dreams

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst (who am i without it), hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: nothing really; well, maybe except seokjin's intrusive thoughts about an axe k*ller— but it's tame, i promise! oh, and jeongguk gets slapped. be nice and let me know if i miss anything! there's a mini flashback in this chapter in all italics marked by a ♥!

word count: 3,900

author's note: i am very nervous about this first chapter because it's been A WHILE since i last wrote ~something~ so anyway! here you go, enjoy!

fic masterlist

New York, 2023

It was right when the DJ turned up the volume that Jeongguk felt the impact of a palm hitting him square in the jaw.

Jeongguk doesn’t know what stimuli to focus on: should it be the loud music blasting through the speakers or the sting of the slap that he probably deserved. It doesn’t take his brain too long to piece together what just happened 5 seconds ago. He knows what’s coming and he is also very much aware that he did see it coming sooner or later.

“Fuck you, Jeongguk,” Ae-cha grits through her teeth. Jeongguk swears she’s about to cry, tears threatening to spill amidst the blue glow of the lights above them. “We are dating, how can you say that—”

“We sleep together when it’s convenient for the both of us, Ae-cha.” Jeongguk downs the rest of his scotch, along with the remnants of his pride. “I never said anything about dating.”

“You are such a jerk!” Ae-cha turns a shade of red, tears in the corners of her eyes. It isn’t the first time Jeongguk has ever made a woman cry, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel that hollow ache in his chest; the one he felt the first time he made that mistake. He should feel bad, he thinks, but then again, he also doesn’t.

Does that make him a bad person?

“I didn’t listen to my friends when they said you were trouble. I wanted to prove them wrong—” Ae-cha starts, but Jeongguk cuts her off.

“Why? Why do you have to?”

Ae-cha’s eyes grow wide as she watches Jeongguk stare at his empty glass.

“You should have listened to your friends.” Jeongguk says, matter-of-fact. Ae-cha scoffs and Jeongguk knows now is the right time to probably shut up.

But he’s a jerk, just like Ae-cha says he was.

“I told you right from the beginning… we just use each other because we’re both lonely,” Jeongguk feels his throat turn dry, “I think somewhere along the way, you misread my actions.”

Ae-cha doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She closes her eyes for a minute and Jeongguk looks at her, waiting for her rebuttal. Or maybe a second slap. Whichever comes first.

Ae-cha speaks in a voice so low, it’s perplexing how Jeongguk is still able to pick up her words— “Your problem is that you do not care about other people’s feelings, Jeongguk. You only care about your own.”

Jeongguk tightens his jaw; now he feels his heart aching.

“You hurt people. You ruin good things. You keep your heart under tight wraps and you do not let anyone in. If you keep that up, you will end up with no one.”

Jeongguk stares at Ae-cha, wanting to say something, but failing completely. Maybe this is what he gets for sleeping with a psychologist— a rude awakening.

Before he can say anything, Ae-cha turns on her heel and walks away. Jeongguk remains at the bar for a bit more until the song changes into a slower tempo. It feels like a chore walking back to the table where his best friend Yoongi was— like walking on lead.

“That must’ve hurt—” Yoongi starts, fingers reaching out to the peanut bowl and putting some into his mouth. Jeongguk plops down on the chair with a sigh. “What a shitty night,” he quips.

Yoongi hums, “And whose fault is that?”

Jeongguk looks at his best friend in annoyance. Yoongi chuckles, putting more peanuts into his mouth. “What’d she say?”

“That I’m a jerk who hurts people and ruins good things.”

“Is it true?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t think I need to do that, kid.” Yoongi concludes, glancing at Jeongguk. He takes a swing out of his beer bottle before continuing, “You know damn well the answer to that.”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue and takes the beer from Yoongi. He takes a swig himself, letting their conversation die out by drowning it into the same old music he’s used to hearing almost every night.

Jeongguk comes home to his apartment that night, tipsy and his heart in pieces. Walking into the living room, the corner of his eyes catch the stack of luggages already packed and loaded. He didn’t feel like sitting on the couch so he opts to sit on the floor, his fingers grazing the carpet absentmindedly. A beat later, he allows his heart to bleed once more— as he always seems to do every single night for the past few years. Leaning his head back against the edge of his couch, he cries himself to sleep, wishing, praying the ache in his chest—and the words you hurt people—would go away in the morning.

Seoul, 2023

Your eyes try to take in the art in front of you— The Artist’s Garden in Giverny, Claude Monet, 1900. Usually, many emotions overwhelm your system and you cannot help but discuss any painting with the next person willing to listen.

And once upon a time, you were enthusiastic about your craft and love for the arts. It was almost always too easy, too often that you could come up with pieces to add to your gallery. But that hasn’t happened in over a year— maybe more than.

In the stillness of the room you are in, you hear light footsteps coming closer to where you are. You keep your eyes trained on Monet’s painting until your brother Seokjin sits beside you.

For a while, you and Seokjin just sit beside each other— no words, only a quiet understanding that close siblings seem to share and empathize with. Seokjin’s parents adopted you when you were eleven; a year after you and your parents met a horrible car collision. You are five months older than Seokin, yet that fact doesn't deter him at all, and more often than not, he usually ends up acting like your older brother. When he first met you at the orphanage, he grew fond of you real quick— already asking his parents when he’d be allowed to play with you. He doesn’t mind that you were once part of the system, that you are his half-sister— not really. He never treated you any differently. He loves you with his whole heart and he will always protect you.

This is why he also cannot stand stillness at times, especially when it involves you.

“Have you been waiting long?” Seokjin asks.

You have a habit of kicking your right foot into the air when you don’t really know how to respond right away. You take a sharp inhale before shaking your head. Seokjin follows your line of sight— you were still looking at the painting.

“Does it make you feel better? Looking at this, I mean…”

Seokjin’s question makes you look at him instead, like you just realized he had been sitting there this whole time and you never knew. He meets your eyes, sees the sadness in them. He will always know no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“Happy birthday, ____”

You don’t respond.

“Taehyung and the others are waiting down at the cafe. Do you still want to meet them?”

You nod once before giving Seokjin a smile, “Of course.”

Seokjin slides into the gap between the two of you and instinctively, you rest your head on his shoulder as he envelops you in a side hug. He rubs a hand up and down your arm before planting a light kiss on top of your head.

“I know it doesn’t get any easier, ____. But I just want you to know that I love you… We all love you.”

With shaky breath and tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, you whisper, “I know.”

As Seokjin gets into the driver’s seat, you hand him an envelope. Seokjin has an inkling what it is, but he asks you anyway as he squints his eyes at you.

“What is that supposed to be?”

You push the envelope towards him a bit more, just humming, “It’s the last payment.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes as he presses the ignition. He doesn’t take the envelope, “Oh come on, Seokjin, just take it.”

“And for the nth time, you shouldn’t have to pay for something I willingly helped you out for. We’re siblings, for gods sake, ____.”

You lower your hands, setting the envelope on your lap. Eyes cast down you mumble, “I know that. I was able to sell a painting again after a long time and it felt good… But I already told you this before— I’d feel better if you just please take this.”

Seokjin lets out a sigh— usually he makes that sound when he’s already defeated.

“Please don’t tell me you’re giving me all the money you worked hard for,” Seokjin starts and you shake your head as soon as you heard the word all. “No, not at all, I— I had some saved up and the rest of it will be for rent.”

You look at Seokjin who still looks suspicious. You playfully roll your eyes and Seokjin sees you smile for the first time that night.

“I promise.”

Seokjin sets his eyes on the parking lot, placing his hands on the steering wheel, “Fine—” you squeal as soon as he gives in and you place the envelope in the glove compartment. “—but this is the last time, all right?”

“Yes sir, that’s the last of the payments,” you respond a tone higher than your usual. Seokjin chuckles as he sets the gear into reverse.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help moving some of your stuff?” Seokjin asks as you fasten your seatbelt.

“Not really, I think I can manage just fine.”

You expect Seokjin to be backing up the car right now, yet he remains unmoving. You chuckle.

“I’ll be fine, Seokjin. Movers will help me move some of the heavier stuff.”

“Listen, ____, I was beyond ecstatic when you told me you were moving out of… there. I just don’t understand why you need to move in somewhere else when you can just stay with me.”

“Seokjin—”

“And it’s not like you have any problems with money or anything, I mean, you are doing okay right?”

“I am,” you answer with a smirk.

“Yah, don’t give me that look, ____. I’m serious, I really don’t understand why you have to stay somewhere else.”

“I already told you. I don’t need a big apartment, I just need a place to sleep. And isn’t it weird if we live together— people are going to think we’re co-dependent.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off, “And I know what you’re going to ask next. Why did I choose to move in an apartment on the other side of the city? And I already told you a dozen times— I need to learn how to be on my own for real this time. And it’s much cheaper compared to all the other apartments in the city center, I mean— have you seen Seoul?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, woman. Sure yeah, valid, but have you met your neighbors?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask confidently.

“Well, they could be an ax killer or something—”

“Or they could just be an ordinary person with a normal life, Seokjin.” You laugh at your brother’s catastrophic thoughts. You completely understand where he’s coming from— he just wants to protect you.

“That’s only hypothetical,” Seokjin snarks as he stops at a stoplight. You lay your hand on top of his on the console.

“I know you’re worried about me—”

“I am, you brat.”

“And I will forever be grateful… but I need to do this,” you reply calmly, almost like you were whispering. “I hope you understand.”

“I’m trying, ____. It’s not exactly easy to do that when you’re not giving me the grace to understand exactly why you need to do this… when you can just stay with me. The house is too big. And the cafe is right next door!”

“And we will get to that someday… but not right now, hm?” Seokjin sighs in defeat. “I will call you every single night if that will make you feel better.”

“Yah, those kinds of things have to come from the heart, not because you’re forced to do it just to appease me.”

“I’m not… I actually really want to talk to my little brother every day,” you tease as Seokjin scoffs.

“Fine, you have to call me every day, okay? Promise?”

You grin wide, “I promise.”

“And I am not your little brother, we’re only 5 months apart.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m older than you.”

Seokjin grumbles under his breath but a smirk was on his lips, “And you’re always going to be my brat.”

The coffee shop you and Seokjin run together has been passed down by your parents. Ever since Seokjin could utter the word, “coffee,” everyone in the family knew he was destined to manage the coffee chains. Even though you were technically the older one, your parents were more lenient and allowed you to forge your own path. Seokjin understood that and he wouldn’t have it any other way despite your pleas to help him with all the major business work. It has been a few years since the original coffee shop in Seongsu-dong expanded into different branches across Seoul. When you flew back from New York, you immediately put up your own artist studio right beside the cafe. Seokjin even pitched in on the idea of a gallery where people can choose to paint while drinking their favorite latte. Four years later, people now come for the art displays and occasional indie music performances, at times poetry nights.

Four years later, you were also making a name for yourself as an artist. Seokjin once told you you were a jack of all trades, master of everything because you were crafty with your hands— painting, dress-making, cooking. And you brush him off every single time.

Because if anything, one of your greatest weaknesses was believing whether or not you were good enough for anything or anyone.

Seokjin opens the door for you as you both enter the coffee shop. As soon as you come in, you are greeted by your long-time friends— Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin. You met Taehyung and Jimin in New York because you were all fine arts students. Hoseok came into the picture as Taehyung’s lover not long after the three of you came back home to Seoul.

“There she is, our little star,” Taehyung greets you with his signature boxy smile. His arms are wide open, ready to engulf you in a tight embrace. Jimin and Hoseok follow suit, each with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s about time you show your pretty face, ____. It’s been ages since we last saw you,” Jimin quips.

“But I text and call you guys almost every day,” you defend. Hoseok pushes a plate of strawberry cake towards you and adds, “It’s not the same as seeing you in the flesh, ____. You look amazing, as always.”

“Thank you, Hobi. That’s reassuring, considering the fact that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“Too many commissions?” Jimin asks.

“More than that, the gallery show at Seojung Art is in six months, and I still haven’t started on my piece.”

“Do you already know what you’re going to create?” Taehyung asks as he takes a bite of his croissant.

“That’s the problem… inspiration isn’t coming. It’s a bother,” a frown now evident across your face. Jimin holds your hand.

“You know you’re really talented, right, ____? You’ll pull through.”

“Thanks, Jiminie,” you smile at him.

“Maybe one of the customers’ paintings here could ignite a spark?” Taehyung starts. “I mean, sometimes the best kind of inspiration hits when you least expect it.”

“You’re right. I’ll sleep on it tonight… if I do get to sleep,” you chuckle, but they all know it’s more than that.

Seokjin comes back to the table with your hot mint tea— a drink that almost always helps you fall asleep.

“What’s with the dead atmosphere, guys? It’s been a while since we all got together like this and you’re all moping,” Seokjin jokes. He has always been the life of the party contrary to his very introverted nature.

“It really is a good night, isn’t it?” Taehyung replies as he eats up the last bit of his pastry. “Hoseok and I actually enjoyed the night breeze on the way here because it was just the right amount of chilly.”

“Always the romantic, this one,” Hoseok laughs.

Jimin carefully watches you as you sip your tea in silence. “Are you all settled to move in tomorrow, ____? Do you need help?”

“I’ll be fine, Jimin. I don't have as much stuff to pack, anyway.”

“Oh yeah that’s right, tomorrow’s moving day. Are you excited?” Taehyung jumps a bit on his seat, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Not really, I mean, it’s going to be pretty boring moving stuff around, don’t you think?”

“But it’s also the start of a new beginning.” Taehyung supplies.

You smile after taking a bite of the cake, “That is very true.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to talk, but then closes it. He changes his mind anyway, “Her neighbors don’t own axes or something, right Taehyung?”

Taehyung giggles, “I don’t know, hyung, It’s not like I went into every apartment on her floor.”

Seokjin turns pale and Taehyung laughs. Taehyung used to live on the same floor as the one you’re about to move into— before he moved in with Hoseok.

“Seokjin is so worried about the neightbors that he couldn’t stop ranting about it on the way here,” you chuckle. “But as I told him, I’ll be fine.” You placed emphasis on the word fine as you held Seokjin’s hand for reassurance under the table.

“Are you telling that to us or to yourself?” Seokjin starts. He has a way of being so upfront with you that there were moments when it became the cause of your fights and misunderstandings. Seokjin sometimes does not know when to stop, yet you know he always means well. You love and dislike him for it at the same time.

“Hyung…” Jimin readily interjects.

“It’s okay, Jimin…” you put your fork down and paused before looking at Seokjin. “I am telling all of you and myself… that I will be fine. I am honestly really thankful that you’re all here now to keep me company.”

You’ve been saying the word “fine” and “okay” a whole lot that night— you started to doubt if you really are or if Seokjin was right— that you’re just trying to convince yourself of it.

“Are you holding up okay, noona?” Hoseok asks, worried.

“Of course—” you take a sharp exhale before continuing, “It also means that time is helping me get past it. And I am okay with that.”

None of your friends respond.

“We love you always, ____. You’ll always have us.” Taehyung said.

“Happy birthday, noona,” Jimin smiles.

Your friends sing you their greetings as Hoseok brings out their surprise birthday cake and flowers. As you try not to cry at their gesture, you try to give them the most genuine smile you can muster. Yet in your heart, you know it’s not enough to convince them. Or yourself.

♥ “You do not get to tell me shit because I have done everything for you—”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Jeongguk—”

“And yet you still came here with me. If you are really that resentful about moving here… about marrying me— then why did you stay? Why are you still here?”

“I never said I resented you.”

“Yeah? Well it feels like it. You make me feel like shit whenever I can’t help you! God I— you know what? I’m done. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

“W-what do you mean you can’t—”

“—I’m saying we should end this. I want a divorce.”

Yoongi gently shakes Jeongguk’s shoulder to wake him up. “We’re almost landing, Jeongguk-ah,” he whispers.

Jeongguk slightly jerks from his sleep. His body feels heavy, his brain foggy but at the same time trying to recover from the dream he just had.

“It’s the same dream again, isn’t it?” Yoongi asks, knuckles turning white as he holds on to the arm rests. Turbulence has always been a bitch— well, at least to Yoongi. Jeongguk doesn’t answer him; instead, he looks out the plane window, thinking the plane couldn’t land fast enough.

“You keep calling out for her, you know? When you dream, I mean. Did you know that?”

That gets Jeongguk’s attention. He bites down on his lip ring before shaking his head, “No. I didn’t know.”

From baggage claim until Jeongguk and Yoongi exit through arrivals, there has been nothing but silence. Yoongi notices how Jeongguk’s hands couldn’t keep still: he’d take them in and out of his pockets. As they walk to the car that awaits them, Yoongi asks once more— “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?

Jeongguk lets out a long breath before looking at his best friend: “I will be.”

“This is the last of the boxes, ma’am.” One of the movers holds a medium-sized box. “Where do you want me to put it?”

You get up from one of the boxes you were opening, “Oh, that’s okay, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“I just need you to sign one more thing before we wrap up.”

“Of course,” you take the pen and sign on the dotted line.

“Have a good day,” The movers gave you a small bow before they went on their way. Looking around the room, you let out a sigh. The apartment is bigger than you initially thought but you are happy about that. There’s an extra room spacious enough to set up a painting studio.

Your eyes land on the last box that was given to you by the mover. Inside it are memories that you don’t feel ready to touch just yet. Despite everything else scattered around your room, you pick up the box and shove it into the back corner of your closet. Maybe someday you’ll have the heart to open it again, but right now, it stays out of sight.

You were about to start opening one of the other boxes when a soft, melodic voice comes up behind you— “Hey baby.”

You turn around quickly, your heart and body naturally gravitating to the owner of the voice: Kim Woosung, your boyfriend.

“Hi,” you softly respond, heart happy upon seeing your boyfriend’s smile. He sets the take-out bags down to hug you. Woosung then gives you a long kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “I missed you.”

You don’t lift your eyes to meet his right away, but your hands reach out for his as he cradles your face. When you finally look at him, he gives you that warm smile you have always loved. With Woosung, there is peace, the kind that secures your heart. As he aligns his forehead with yours, you feel all your worries melt away.

With Woosung, everything feels safe, so right.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Woosung apologizes. You shake your head gently and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re just in time.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #woosung x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook divorce au #jungkook fanfic #childhood friends #divorce au #mwillow: last to know

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dsireland86 · 12 days

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Take Me First PT. 2 (Never Know)

"Lying Is Hard But The Truth Comes Out Anyway" The Grey

A regretful mistake, a car accident, and a baby. God didn't listen to Noah when he begged him to take him first the night of the accident. God had other plans it seemed; plans that brought Noah down to his knees cursing, crying, and praying. In time he began to believe he was nothing but a lost soul trying to find his happiness in the ugly world he lived in, until... she found him and began to return the lost parts of him, piece by piece, he'd thought he'd lost forever.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the long awaited 2nd part to a story that was never meant to have a second part. But I'm very thankful to friends who encouraged me and highly suggested that I write one. I love how I came to tie this cherished story that began with three words from a song into my main two stories. It took some brainstorming, but in the end I don't think it will disappoint. To the ones I've tagged and were expecting the second part, I hope it's what you hoped it would me. Let me know!

TAGS: @lma1986, @myownthoughts12, @xslavicprincess, @foliosgirl, @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon, @jilliemiw86, @sthnog, @lookwhatitcost

Never Know

“Show me you're better off without me/ Choking on every word you said, we'll see, we'll see / Don't breathe another word about me I'll leave and you can finally rest in peace, we'll see”

The Letter She Never Meant To Send

Noah,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. You have to understand that it's better for both of us this way, if I just vanish from your life and wipe your slate, your consciousness completely clean. Once you're finished with this letter I guarantee you will hate me and loath just the thought of me. My name will become a bitter poison on your tongue and the tongues of those who will no longer be my family because of their loyalty to you. You'll never want to breathe my name let alone any other words about me to anyone. I'm warning you now, Noah, what I'm about to tell you is going to ruin you. It's going to break your heart so badly you're probably going to wish you were dead. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm doing this to you, but it's the only way. You have to know the truth about what happened during those three days in Montana on that last tour we were on together; you deserve to know, because it was the moment that everything changed for us. You're better off without me and in time you'll see. In time you'll be able to rest in peace.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

“I didn't want to finish the letter. Knowing she was already gone was enough, and reading it, having it spelled out in front of me would’ve only made things worse. But I chose to finish it anyway but regretted the instant I did. I swear I could feel myself slowly slipping away as her words started to bring out the worst in her that I never knew existed."

I rested my forehead against the back of her shoulder.

“I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you were feeling. Being abandoned is hard, but the lonely place it takes you too is worse.” “You would know, wouldn't you,” I said while playing with her fingers. She leaned back against my chest while sitting between my legs. Turning her head at just the right angle she glided the tip of her nose softly along my jawline that filled with a deep yearning to be inside her again. “Not the same way you do.” I shivered when her lips left a trail of soft kisses on my skin. “Read me more, please. I want to know everything,” she urged. I sighed, and even though I really didn't want to, I knew sharing this part of my life was important for us. So, I continued.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lying in between the memories choking me, and I don't know which way to go, but I'm okay to never know”

The night you told me the truth about cheating on me, it broke me, but not in the way you might think. I was angry, full of guilt, relief, sorrow, and regret that created a huge mess of emotions I didn’t know how to deal with. Running was my only option. I had to escape the pain of knowing how horribly I'd hurt you and you didn't even know it. Noah, you were brave enough to be honest with me about what you did. You admitted your guilt and how ashamed it made you feel. You truly believed you'd hurt me and watching the way it tore your mind and heart apart left me in agony. I wanted to tell you the truth then, but I just couldn't bring myself to, so I took the coward's way out and ran away.

I called Jolly and cried to him. He didn't understand anything I was saying let alone an idea of what I was talking about, but he did his best to console me anyway. The guilt I felt, knowing what I’d done to his best friend just made everything numb and blur together and with the way I was driving I didn’t see the headlights of the other vehicle in my lane. Jolly was still on the phone when I screamed right as the collision happened. That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up in the hospital. So, what is the truth that was too hard for me to tell you even though I was given the chance to say many times? Noah, I hope you're sitting down, because what I'm about to say is going to be the death of whatever peace your mind had about me.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

“Noah?” Her soft voice calling to me made me lower my head and when her hand collided with my cheek, her touch brought me back to reality. The past wasn't real, but she was, and so was the feeling of her naked body against mine. Turning herself around so that her legs were on either side of me and her arms were resting on my shoulders, she leaned in and kissed me, slipping her tongue inside my mouth little by little. She was making me so hard and I knew she could feel me between her legs, pressed tightly against that sweet soft spot of hers I loved so much. I couldn’t control the constant twitching that was happening each time she purposely pushed herself into me either.

"She knew exactly what she was doing to you and that’s what hurt you the most. I'm sorry she hurt you,” her voice whispered in my ear before she took a little bit of it in her mouth. “Ughh, fuck baby,” I moaned, squeezing her hips tighter and tugging her closer to me. “That’s what happens,” she said, brushing her breast up against me, her perky nipples grazing across my skin, making it scream. “You let people in and they destroy you. But I won’t.” She sat back and looked at me, the look in her eyes nearly making me cum. She had me wound up so tight that I swallowed hard when she pushed herself into me again and her warm, shaky breath washed over my face. “You deserve so much more than you believe you do, Noah.” Slipping her hands beneath the waistband of my box-briefs, I lifted my bottom up and she slid them down my legs, tossing them aside, retaking her spot over me. “I’ll give you the world, if you want it,” she admitted, laying her mouth on mine and taking my lips to hers as if she owned them; she did. “The moon, the fucking stars. Anything you ask, it’s yours. I’m yours. You can have all of me,” she confessed through a shaky, tear filled voice.

I pulled her way to look at her and my heart felt like it had busted through my chest. She had tears streaming down her cheeks, but the prettiest smile on her lips. I sat up and kissed her tears away tasting their saltiness. “I want all of it,” I admitted, brushing some hair out of her face. “I want all of you, but not just what you let the world see. I want all the broken, busted up parts too; the parts that make you, you. I meant it when I said I would fight the battle for you. I would, I still will. If I have you, then you have all of me too.” She started to cry and I pulled her into me as she laid her head on my shoulder. I fucking loved this girl in my arms more than I ever thought possible. More than the girl in the letter, and that scared me.

After a few moments of silence had passed and I was about to continue reading, the warmth from her hand found my hard cock. Slowly she ran her hand down my shaft, then back up, the grip she had applying the perfect pressure needed to stimulate what I was dying for on the inside. I laid my head back against the couch, zoning into nothing but the feeling of what her hand was doing. The faster she went the harder her grip became and reminded me of what being inside her felt like; heaven. I found her entrance between her wet folds and quietly slipped a finger inside her warm sex enjoying the way she melted into my touch and sucked in a quick breath, followed by a beautifully moan that filled the room. I felt her wetness coat my fingers, making me feel like I had all the power over her I wanted. The truth was though, she was the one with all the power. “I need to be inside you, now.” I ordered. She didn't hesitate to obey but instead shifted enough so that her pussy was aligned perfectly with my hard length.

“Noah, look at me,” she commanded and I listened. Her eyes were vibrant and full of something indescribable, something that I could never put into words; but I felt it and I knew she did too. “I fucking love you.” It slipped out before I could stop myself and I was scared I crossed a line. But her smile took that feeling away. It was genuine, and made me feel the exact way, if not more, I felt when I first saw her. “I love you too; all of you.” She pushed into me and took all of me into her and I watched her expression change as soon as I filled her. Her tight, wet walls closed in on my throbbing cock now buried deep inside her, searching for that special spot that was going to pull all the pretty cries and moans from her that I loved to hear. I gripped her hips, sighing once she began to move slowly, with her hands placed firmly on my chest. But I wanted more and I knew she did too. “I want you to grind on me, baby, ride me till you're satisfied. Ride me till you cum.”

That seemed to be all she needed. Soon I had her crying and moaning so loudly that she dug her nails deep into my skin, squeezed me tighter with her thighs, and let my name fall from her lips like a sacred prayer. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She pulled my hands to her small breasts, indicating to me she wanted stimulation and I all too willing obliged her. I took each nipple between my finger and thumb, squeezing them until she cried. Once hard and perky, I dragged my tongue lazily over the soft, delicate skin, circling and lapping every part until taking it in my mouth. Her moans pulled my organism closer and I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. Luckily, I didn't have too. Her hands found the back of my head, holding me in place while she fucked me slow and gently and I got her off by sucking my favorite parts of her. “Noah, baby,” she didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. I looked up, grinning at the face I saw. With eyes closed, she was in perfect ecstasy. “Are you gonna cum for me, Princess.” She didn't say anything, just moaned and nodded. “Cum for me then baby, let it go and give us both what we want.”

Her lips crashed into mine and our tongues danced as she came undone all over me and I quickly followed. It wasn't loud, it wasn't messy; it was just us, falling apart for one another together quietly. It was love making in its purest form and in that moment with her I realized the difference between straight fucking with foreplay and making love and how they were very different. We weren’t each other's first. She had a fucked up ex and I had many experiences that left me feeling used. But what she and I had just shared had so many emotions involved, ones that I didn't even know I could feel anymore. She pulled them out of me somehow and allowed me to willingly feel what I had buried away. They were tangled together, knotted and rooted in the dirt of my past. But, thanks to the beautiful human in my arms, for the first time in my life I felt the difference and wasn't afraid to feel them. She made me feel so fucking alive and I loved it.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Speaking in languages we can’t read, no need for you to spell it out for me/ Swallowed up and I’ spit you out, like a drug that just wouldn’t stay down"

Montana was beautiful, Noah, and the idea of visiting it with you was a dream come true. I'll never forget when you came home and told me that it was on the list of states the band was playing. Your excitement was contagious and the way your eyes sparkled and lit up your entire face will forever haunt me. It was one of the last times we were truly happy together. Those three days haunt me, Noah. They hold the worst, but also the best memories. So here it goes… the whole truth.

The first show day went smoothly; you remember I'm sure. We all went out and had a small celebration in that little country bar where Folio rode the mechanical bull until he bled… like seriously bled. I thought I was going to pass out seeing all the blood from his arm. The day of the second show, however, was utter chaos and hell. Everyone woke up late, the venue wasn't unlocked when we got there, and some of the equipment malfunctioned. You were miserable and because you were miserable, so was everyone else. I tried to help, but now know how worse I actually made it for you. And the moment you yelled at me in front of not just the crew but the guys too, I knew things were going to be different between us. It wasn't that you yelled at me, Noah, it was what you said that was the slap to my face. You accused me of being selfish and too self conceited to understand what you were going through, and you know what? You were right. I was, I am those things. And to prove I was, I decided to get back at you in my own way; the way I regret now more than anything.

After storming out of the venue and turning my phone off, I found a bar away from the venue, away from every memory of you. I wanted you out of my head, but mostly out of my heart because I was hurting. So, the first guy who sat down next to me and bought me a few rounds was it. He was the one I chose to make my biggest mistake with. He took me back to his hotel room, which ironically was in the same hotel as ours, you were just one floor above me. I was too drunk to worry about anything, not even caring if the receptionist recognized me.

Noah, I will save you the details of what I did with that man in that hotel room that night. It wasn't at all what I thought it would be, and in the end he left me hurting way more than when I started out. Not just emotionally, but physically too. Thankfully there were no marks on my body, yet, but the bruises would show the following day. I lied and said you did them to me and the look on your face was devastating. I felt like a piece of shit. Maybe I was. No, I know I was. I should burn in hell for what I did to you; what I said to you. You didn't deserve it. But the worst was yet to come when the events of the night you fucked some girl who wasn't me happened and you found out I was pregnant. Nicholas said at first you were too shocked, but when it was time for me to leave the hospital, Matt said it was all you could talk about; how you were going to be a dad and how you had so much faith that the baby would be the thing to tie us back together after your actions ruined us. It wasn't you who ruined us, Noah, it was me, but I couldn't tell you that. Not now. Not with a baby on the way. So, I kept my silence and avoided you as much as I could, using your cheating as the excuse. And I lied to you every day up until… well you know when.

Losing the baby was never, ever the intention, that, I promise, you can believe. I never wanted any harm to come to my baby. But when I woke up last month at seventeen weeks pregnant in a pool of blood, I knew it was over. The lies could stop, the truth could come out and everything would be okay. Except it wasn't, was it? Losing the baby was too hard for you. It made you do things you regret doing and I regret watching, knowing I had the power to stop it all. I know the feeling of loss is still very raw in your heart. You're wounded and reading this letter, knowing I'm long gone, soon to be nothing but a distant memory you'd do anything to forget, is going to throw salt on that wound, but I think it's time for me to help you put your demons to rest.

Noah, the baby…. the baby was never yours to begin with. I mean, honestly, think back to the first time we had sex after that fight. Think…. and you'll remember. If you don't let me help. You wore a condom, Noah and you filled it, but I lied to you and told you it broke because I was scared. The night I spitefully killed us in every way possible was the night I conceived another man's child.

So, you see, none of it was your fault after all. It was mine all along. Did I feel guilt? Yes. Remorse? No. Not until now. Now that I’m walking away from you, I feel every bit of remorse possible, but it’s too late now, isn’t it. The you I knew and loved is gone and so is the girl you knew. And that’s the difference between us, Noah. You felt remorse and it made you so vulnerable.

I hope the next girl you fall in love with is good to you. I hope she is never afraid of your darkness or the demons who dance in your eyes sometimes. I remember the time when you thought no one could ever love you if you revealed what lurks inside you. You’ve always been different, Noah, you know that and how could anyone understand that? But I hope she understands and is never afraid to follow you into your darkness so that she can learn to love the beast that’s inside. I tried to, but in the end I realized that sometimes, true love comes in the form of a loving demon, or a protective monster, or even a dark angel who sits and waits patiently for you to arrive. You are all those things Noah; and I hated you for it. I’m sorry I hated you, because now I know that you were the only one to ever, truly love me.

With All My Love, Always

Sarah

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

I woke up, flat on my back, head off the pillow, but the blanket over top of me. As my vision cleared, Sophie was nowhere to be seen. My heart started pounding, thinking maybe she regretted last night; the things we did, the things I said. Was it all too much and she felt pressured or overwhelmed? I started to panic, running my hands over my face, trying to convince myself everything was okay, but it didn't help. I sat up, looking around for my shirt only to remember that I'd used it on Sophie, making me remember the corner I threw it in; it was still there.

I needed to find Sophie and make sure everything was good between us, especially now that she knew the truth about me and Sarah. I needed to know if she was still willing to commit herself to me, to us, with this kind of baggage attached, but first I needed a shower. My stomach suddenly hurt, the anxiety nipping away on the inside and it felt like there was a giant hole in me. I needed to fill that hole. I need my girl.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens band #bad omens #bad omens cult #matt dierkes #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio

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thecuriousquest · 8 months

Text

Go to Sleep

Yandere Shoto x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, no funny stuff in the bedroom, breaking and entering, short little story

Summary: Shoto breaks into your dorm room for some late night cuddles.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

After a hard day of training with your chosen pro hero during the work study program, you change into comfortable clothes before sliding under your blanket for a well-deserved sleep. The room is dark, and you find yourself pondering how you basically got your ass kicked all day right before closing your eyes.

It’s alright. You’re still learning, you assure yourself.

———

It’s not someone fumbling with your doorknob right outside the barrier that you wake up to. It’s not the creaking of the door that rouses you from your slumber. Hell, it’s not even someone crawling over you that jolts you from your dream.

You find your eyes opening when a pair of arms tug you closer to a hardened chest. Beyond surprised, you turn your head to look over your shoulder. With the help of the full moon shining outside your window, you can make out two different hair colors blended together with bangs.

“Shoto, what the hell are you doing in my room?” You whisper shout so as not to wake up any of your classmates who might need their sleep after a brutal day.

He shushes you much to your displeasure. You watch him close his eyes as he shifts a bit to get more comfortable.

“No, Shoto, wake up and tell me what you’re doing in here,” you demand as you try to pry his arm off of you.

He doesn’t budge one bit. In fact, you trying to remove the limb from around your waist only makes him hold on a little tighter.

Sighing, he answers you as he keeps his eyes firmly shut. “I got lonely without you.”

“Okay? You can’t just break into my room over something like that. Honestly, you didn’t even ask me. Why should I let you sleep in here?”

“It’s not like you can make me leave.”

Oh, that pisses you off. However, he is kind of right. You could shout for help, but that will only wake up the class. You don’t want to do that because you know they’re without a doubt exhausted. You don’t have Mr. Aizawa’s number, so you can’t text him and ask for help. You doubt Shoto would let you even pick up your phone. If you try to wait for him to fall asleep to leave, he’d know you’re trying to go somewhere because of his arms around your body.

All in all, you’re fucked. Maybe you could just let him spend the night in your room. He’s harmless. All he wants to do is sleep. You don’t really know what goes on in his mind. He could be having nightmares, and having someone comforting to lay next to might help him with that.

Leaning your head against the pillow, you try to settle down for the night. “Fine, but we’re talking about this in the morning.”

“M’kay,” comes his lazy reply before soft snoring plays right behind you.

You can’t help but laugh a little bit at the predicament, but it’s oddly comforting to be held like this. You never knew what having another person in your bed felt like before, but you have to admit, you do feel a sense of protection in your classmate’s arms (even if he did break in).

You feel like you’re beginning to understand why he came to you seeking comfort. The bed does feel a little less lonely with him in it, and his body warms you up like a blanket never could.

Right before you drift off to sleep, you give one last glance to Shoto. You never expected something like this from him.

Why did he come to me specifically? Was I just the first one who came to mind?

With these thoughts and seeing the serine look on his face as he dreams, you return to your slumber.

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #mha shoto todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #yandere shoto todoroki #yandere shoto x reader #icyhot #yandere icyhot

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kastlenetwork · 5 months

Note

Hi! So I'm pretty new to the kastle fandom and wanted to know if there are any like- classic fics or interviews or memorable moments in panels and cons (with the actors) that I should know about? I know about the interviews that are on the kastle wikifandom page but only because I've read them.

helloooo! welcome to the family! it's been quite quiet lately, but frank and karen are always in our hearts lolol and every now and then there's a little resurgence, so that's nice. umm first up interviews. there's a lot of little quotes here and there that were a big deal. we didn't get many interviews of the two of them together, if i remember correctly. i think two comic cons were pretty exciting.

here are some interviews from comic con 2017 yup

this is a cute clip from last year, where deborah talked about how jon's intense but really uplifted her. and that they want to work together again.

(i'm looking at kastle's wikifandom and, really, the big interview quotes all seem to be there.)

“ … just in terms of whether this is Jon’s story to tell or my story to tell, you just want to kind of be respectful of everybody’s contributions. Jon and I have certainly felt that there is room for a romantic story in there. And there were certainly scenes where we took it farther in some takes than we did in other takes. We’ll have to sort of wait and see what the editors chose, and how far they decided to push it. But we as actors allowed for that possibility.” -deb cinemablend

deborah and jon were both supporters, but deborah was always including frank into karen's romantic potentials:

“But all of the romance I’ve gotten to play, with any of the characters in the series, whether that’s Frank or Matt, they all come from a need. From a lonely person, a person who doubts whether she is deserving of love.” -deb collider

“I like that Karen can say, ‘How far down this road of violence of revenge do you go before you’re ripped apart?’ and he can look at her and go, ‘I’m already ripped apart. And you are, too.‘” -deb 92.1 bobfm

“When professor [Jeph] Loeb [Marvel TV head] told me we were gonna do a series on The Punisher,” Bernthal continued, “first thing i asked him is would I have the pleasure and the honor to work again with one of the most honest, the most kind, and the most talented actors I’ve ever had the privilege to work with.” --jon ew

oh! karen page being announced for the punisher. very cute.

youtube

"i just want to say, you guys don't love him as much as i do" was very exciting when it happened lmaoooo. the hope for kastle was high.

*****

i'll be honest up front and say, i tend to forget a lot of stuff? so, basically, i can read a fic and then read it again months later and it's like a brand new experience. which is both a blessing and a curse. so, i basically just zoomed through my bookmarks to try and find some things?? 😩😩

(i'm scanning my bookmarks and.............a lot of them are basically just smutfdjklgsdfjglkdfjglkdfjg)

ballads for a dead man ❤❤ [three parts, unfinished] Safe up in the mountains with Frank following a bloody showdown in Hell's Kitchen, Karen wonders just how much more complicated things between them can get. She's about to find out.

these heavy words, your open heart 😘😘 (this was a kastlechristmas gift to me from @carry-the-sky 😊❤) “You told me once that I was honest. That I don’t lie to you. But the hospital—you asked me to start over, and I said I didn’t want that.” Karen sucks in a breath. Frank’s eyes are still on her, wide and bright. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him look. “I lied,” he says.

The Reporter [kinda iconic ❤👀] Force Recon missions keep Marines isolated, entrenched for long periods in covert locations. They rarely received visitors, and in Frank’s long experience, the visitors were almost never civilians, let alone gorgeous blondes with mile long legs and sky blue eyes. Frank was trying not to stare. They all were. Well, everyone except Bill, who’s face had just split into a shit-eating grin.

The Flower Cam [oh god, the flower cam! i just remembered!! ❤] It had been a long time since there had actually been any flowers in the window. She must have trashed the white roses after his latest bullshit at the hospital with Madani and the kid. Good. Good for her. She should forget about him. But still… Frank couldn’t help but check every once in a while.

actually just, everything in their ao3. i have all this bookmarked.

(..................god, my bookmarks are really all smut. this says a lot about me.)

Castle’s Auto Shop ❤❤ yes. yep. Karen Page is in need of a car mechanic. Castle’s Auto Body Shop seems a reasonable choice. There’s just one problem: This little auto shop has become a well-known spot where less than honorable people to go get their car fixed…only to have justice find them at the next stop light. Having her brother’s truck fixed there means Karen will have to own up to a few secrets in her past.

Blood and Bone ❤❤❤! this is the fic that has seared itself into my brain. i've never once forgotten this. iconic. Frank Castle is a boxer at the top of his game. Laconic and anti-social, he has a reputation for being an incredibly-tough interview. Karen Page is a sports reporter trying to prove herself in a male-dominated field. She's done playing games--trying to be the "Cool Girl" who caters to the male fantasy--and now she's on a mission to take no shit. "For a while, the fact that an interview with Castle lasting longer than 5 minutes even existed was big news. Splashed all over the message boards—circulated among boxing and Castle fans alike. The very concept that someone actually got the man to sit down for more than a breath of time and give multiple-sentence answers to a question—it was huge. Massive. It was the only thing Castle fans could talk about. Until three months later, when Frank Castle disappeared. Then that was the news. It was the only news."

this is hard lmaoo how ludicrious. i have about seven collections from some of our events, as well. there's loads of good stuff in there:

kastlesmutweek 2018

kastlesmutweek 2019

kastlechristmas 2018

kastlechristmas 2019

kastlechristmas 2020

kastlechristmas 2021

kastlechristmas parent collection

#theshipdiaries #kastle #ask #txt: chey #kastleff

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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year

Text

Come Back Home

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Raining Hellfire: Season Four

Word Count: 3113 words

Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of death

[A/N: The introduction to RH4 is here! This season has been the hardest to write considering that this is where we find out all the truth behind Vecna. I'm excited to finally share this with you all :)]

Before we begin a new season, I just want to thank every single person who has supported my story. I'm not sure what will happen after RH4, if this will be the last season, but I've had a hell of a time writing this :)

Come Back Home

Dear Y/n,

High school hasn’t really been anything special. It’s kinda hard but at least the lessons are slightly more interesting.

The guys decided to join Hellfire Club. Eddie’s taking care of them. Just like you said he would.

Lucas tried out for the basketball team. I think he’s enjoying it, despite all the assholes he says are his friends. We’re not really seeing eye to eye lately. But it’s all fine. I promise.

Mike complains a lot about El and Will not being there. I think he forgets that we’re all missing them too. It kinda sucks that El and I got so close only for her to move away. But she calls me, telling me about her time in California. She tells me she’s enjoying it.

Steve and Robin seem to like working at the video store. I visit them sometimes, Steve always sneaks me any new releases. He thinks I’m lonely but I’m fine. He just overreacts. He also constantly asks about you, pretending like he doesn’t care. He misses you, even if he doesn’t admit it. We all do.

Mom and I moved into a trailer after Neil left. It’s nice, sometimes. Mom started drinking again but we get to spend time together and she’s trying her hardest. She couldn’t take Jack’s house. She misses her brother.

I miss you. A lot. I know we’ve done this before and at least this time I can talk with you but sometimes I wish you and I could just hang out together. The party are kind of acting like you’re on holiday. Like any day now you’ll burst through the door with souvenirs. But Nancy keeps telling them that’s not the case. They don’t listen. Of course they don’t.

I know why you left. You did it for us, even if the others can’t see that.

I’m doing okay. You’ve said in your letters that you worry about me but I’m completely fine. You should live a life away from Hawkins. You deserve that. You don’t need to come back.

I love and miss you,

Madmax.

You stuff the letter back into your drawer with a sigh. That was the last letter Max had sent you. It had been weeks now.

You couldn’t help but worry every single day you spent away from Hawkins. After hearing about Susan and Neil’s divorce, you felt guilty for ever leaving Max in the first place. Billy died and she needed you. But it was too dangerous.

The nightmarish figure hadn’t visited you in the eight months you’ve been away from Hawkins. It was a relief, really. You could finally sleep without fear of being pulled into the Upside Down.

But you still couldn’t close your eyes without seeing Jack and Billy die in front of you.

“Y/n?”

Your room-mate poked her head around the door, eyes wide.

“You okay?” You looked at Clara with a confused expression, setting down the pen you were using and slipping a half-written letter into a pile of work on your desk.

“She’s at it again.” She sighs and your lips purse.

Great, you thought, another fun day in Florida.

Clara patiently waits for you to sort out your things before you grab your keys and join her, walking quickly to the college courtyard where you could already see a crowd of students forming.

Yells and shouts could be heard as a trio of girls messed around with Emma Sanders. You suck in a breath. You wished you could say this wasn’t a daily occurrence.

Emma Sanders was a 16 year old girl who had managed to get into college early from her brains alone. She was a modest girl, very shy since everyone else around her was much older. You and her had shared a class together and it turns out Emma was much more sweet and funny than anyone seemed to notice. But, there was a rumour spreading that her parents were on the board and used their position to get her into college. She has claimed over and over that she just got an early scholarship but that’s the thing with the students at this college; they hate to see someone out-do them. They hate it even more when the girl they bully actually sticks up for themself and calls them out on their bullshit.

Which is why, almost every day since the beginning of the college year, poor Emma had to experience the very worst of what teenage girls are capable of.

“Move out of the way.” You sigh, shoving past a group of guys clearly enjoying the display. They protest but shift out of your way regardless, craning their necks for a better view of the fight.

It was a deja-vu moment for you; breaking up a fight. And over three years later, here you were. Being a ‘hero’, as someone would always say to you.

Clara shuffled up beside you as you pushed your way into the circle, coming face to face with the devils themselves.

“Okay, we get it. You’re upset you’re all dumb and had to pay to get in.” You retort, picking your friend from off the floor and she sends you a grateful smile.

You gently nudge her away from the crowd and Emma disappears, most likely to the library. Hopefully she’d be okay.

“Y/n Mayfield. Here to ruin the fun, like always.”

The shrill voice called from behind you and you clicked your tongue. She had the kind of voice that scratched your brain in the most excruciatingly painful way possible.

And it just so happens that you had years of experience blocking her out.

“Carol.” You purse your lips, turning to face the queen of high school herself, still taking advantage of those around her for her own personal enjoyment. “You realise this is college, right?”

She simply raises her eyebrows, edging you on.

“You’re not in high school anymore.” You sigh, shaking your head, “Maybe you should focus on actually passing the semester instead of proving that your daddy has more money than the rest of us.”

“Yeah, and can the rest of you stop acting like this is some crappy teen drama movie?” Clara yelled at the few students still standing around you, chanting as if something more than an exchange of words would happen. “Go to class or something! Get a damn education!”

A few sighs and groans sounded but soon everyone dispersed, leaving you and Clara with Carol and her new-found minions.

“Why, oh why, do you always have to annoy me?” Carol sighs, waving her hand in the air. The action caused the other two girls to stalk away. She really did have power over them.

“Look, Carol.” You take a step forward, shoulders slumped. You were really tired of this. “I had no idea we were going to end up at the same college. But here we are and honestly, I just want a normal college experience, okay? No fights, no stupid rumours. Is that so impossible to ask for?”

Carol shifted on her feet, chewing the gum in her mouth slowly as she pondered the thought.

“You know what?” Carol slowly nodded, smiling. “You’re right.”

You almost fall back in surprise. “I am?”

“She is?” Clara chimed in beside you, just as confused.

“Yeah.” Carol took a few steps towards you. “It really is impossible to ask for.”

“Oh for the love of-” You mutter and Carol glares at you.

“Why would I ever forgive and forget someone that slept with my boyfriend?”

Clara audibly gasps beside you. That was something you had left out of the room-mate introductions.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “For the last time, I didn’t know! I was drunk and I would never have done that if he just told me you were dating.”

“Really?” Carol raised an eyebrow. “Cause it seems to be a trend with you lately. Stealing other girls’ boyfriends.”

“I doubt Y/n would do that.” Clara shakes her head and you smile to yourself. Good to know someone had your back.

“I heard a rumour…” Carol stepped forward, her pink lips stretched into a wicked smile. “That you ended up sleeping with Steve Harrington.”

“Who?” Clara whispered to you and you just waved your hand.

“That didn’t happen.” You say. It was the truth, nothing more than an emotional shared kiss ever happened between you and Steve. Certainly not when he and Nancy were still dating.

“You should really rethink your friends.” Carol turns to the girl next to you, an innocent look on her face. “Y/n was notorious for being the whore of Hawkins.”

“Fuck you.” You finally spat and she smiled. She got exactly what she wanted; to get you angry.

“Hm, let’s see.” Carol held up her hand and started putting down fingers as she counted. “Tommy, Eddie, Steve. Oh, and let’s not forget Billy.”

You stayed silent, breath hitching at the sound of his name.

“All in the space of, what, three years?” She smirked at you. “And yet, little old Y/n Mayfield couldn’t manage to keep any of them. In fact, she ended up running away just when she realised that they could never love a girl…”

Carol’s eyes turned dark as she leant forward to whisper into your ear. “… who murdered her best friend.”

Your eyes widen with tears, breath caught in your throat. How did she know that?

“Don’t underestimate your enemies, Y/n.” She said, glaring at you, “Especially ones with friends in high places.”

She leant in again with a smile, chuckling lowly, “Or ones who end up snooping through the school shrink’s files. You should really be careful what you tell people.”

“What do you want from me?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“I want you to realise that you deserve everything that’s coming to you. I want you out of Florida. This is my college, not yours.”

“I can’t.” You say, shaking your head slightly.

“You’re gonna have to.” She pouts, fixing the collar of your shirt. “Or I’m gonna tell everyone at this college exactly who you are.”

She let’s out a shrill laugh, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

“Anyway, it was nice catching up. Let’s not do this again, ‘kay?” She looks to your friend with a grin, “Bye, Claire.”

“It’s Clara.” She mumbled, glaring.

“Whatever.”

And just like that, the infamous Carol Perkins reclaimed her power and left you stood in the middle of the courtyard, heartbeat running fast enough to blur your vision.

“Y/n?” Clara placed her hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“… yeah.” You nod, shaking away the burning nerves. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t let her get into your head, Y/n.” She frowned. You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s not that easy.”

Clara invited you out with her friends for lunch, claiming you needed to have some fun and actually explore outside of your room. You respectfully declined her offer, telling her to have fun without you. You weren’t in the party mood.

You pulled out the paper you had hidden away earlier, grabbing your pen and wiping away a stray tear. All you had done to forget your past, it always found its way to haunt you.

The paper was crumpled at the edges and you tried your absolute best to smooth them out, wanting it to be perfect. You took a breath, reading the very first line over and over until your brain hurt.

Dear Eddie,

For months now you had tried to muster up some kind of courage to write to him. Ever since the day you left, the metalhead never left your brain. But, at the exact same time, neither did Steve. Never in your life did you think you’d be stuck in some kind of love triangle that only you were aware of.

It’s always been hard for you to express your feelings. Growing up in a house with parents that thought being tough built character would do that to you.

Billy had come first but the feelings between you two had gotten muddled up along the way; you weren’t ever in love. He was your best friend, your closest friend and you were both too young to understand that love didn’t have to be romantic. Which made sense. You didn’t think you were capable of it.

Then Eddie Munson changed all that for you. He was sweet, and kind, and everything you could have hoped for. You finally got to feel what real love felt like. All the best and worst moments of it. Every time you were with him, you felt some kind of electricity you couldn’t explain. And those feelings never left you, not really. You just couldn’t admit it to him in the end.

The kiss you and Steve had shared the night of the ‘mall fire’ was far from meaning nothing to you. In fact, you had both confessed you liked eachother. You had confessed you loved eachother. Love was a word that barely left your lips. Steve made you feel safe, feel heard. Like he knew every part of you. But you were both still in love with the ones that got away.

You groan into your hands, throwing the pen back down. Writing this letter was impossible.

Maybe it was for the best that you’d never see them again.

And with Carol’s sudden blackmail, you were way too busy figuring out if you could transfer colleges. Maybe you could head to San Diego instead. Or Arizona. Or just flee to Europe.

Hopefully Max will get your letters when you move.

As you reach to switch off the table lamp, the phone at the edge of the desk suddenly starting ringing. You jumped in surprise, chair wobbling on two legs for a moment before you composed yourself. You frowned. Nancy only just called you yesterday evening.

You pick up the phone, holding it to your ear cautiously.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Robin’s voice called out and you breathed a sigh of relief. You and Robin had an occasional phone call now and then, just to catch up about once a month. But you had just spoken to her last week.

“Robin? Why are you-” Your question is cut short when you hear her shooing someone away, most likely a customer, plus some clatter as you assume she moves the phone to a more secluded spot.

“Have you seen the news?” Her voice was urgent and you frowned.

“The Hawkins news?” You let out a breathy laugh, confusion mixed with fear at her voice, “Uh, no, Robs. I haven’t.”

She’s silent for a moment until you hear her let out a sigh.

“Robin, what’s going on?” You started to panic, straightening in your seat.

“It’s…” She lowered her voice to a whisper and you wondered if Steve knew she was calling you. “It’s Eddie.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “What-what about him?”

“Okay this really isn’t easy to say but I figured you should know that some freaky-deaky shit is going on. Like not exactly a monster made out of flesh and evil Russians but like-” Robin rambled and you shook your head.

“Robin! Rob- Just tell me!” You were out of your seat now, staring at the paper on the table in front of you.

“Someone was found dead in his trailer and the police think he did it.”

You gulped, chest a little lighter to know he was still alive. “What-”

“Chrissy.” Robin said quietly, “Her name. She… Max saw her go into his trailer and apparently the lights were all whack-a-doodle, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time since the trailers are always experiencing some kind of light failure.”

“Robin.” You say as softly as you can, reminding her to stay on topic.

“Right, yeah. Anyway, the police found her body in his trailer this morning. It was all snapped up and broken and-” She takes a deep breath as you hold your own. “There’s no way any kind of human could have done it.”

“But the police think Eddie did?” It wasn’t really a question. After all, the only policeman in Hawkins who had ever thought clearly was Hopper.

“He apparently ran away after it happened and we managed to find where he might be hiding-”

“We?” You ask.

“Me, Steve, Dustin. Max.” She adds with a knowing tone.

You take a moment to think through Robin’s information. She wouldn’t have called if she wasn’t scared. From her description, something very sinister was happening in Hawkins.

Again.

“Look, Y/n.” Robin sighs and you hear muffled voices, one clearly belonging to Dustin. “We’re gonna go find him and try to make this all right. The others… they didn’t want to drag you into this and neither do I but, I- I don’t know, I guess I just felt guilty if I didn’t let you know what was happening.”

“No, no. It’s okay, Robs. Thank you for telling me.” You assure, slumping back into your chair. “Just… if it gets worse…”

“We’ll be careful.” She tells you before you clearly hear Steve yell for her. Your heart tightens at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t spoken to him in eight months. “Okay, I gotta go. We have this handled and I’ll call you later. Bye.”

“Rob-” You try but she’s already hanging up the phone.

You go to set the phone back down, when suddenly something sounds from the receiver.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Then, a sudden flash of images burns your mind, eyes fluttering shut, as you envision a dark room.

Random objects littered about, like an attic of treasures. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. In the middle stood a grandfather clock, chiming methodically. You start to get a closer view, something about the glass seeming off.

Then, suddenly, it cracks, a single scar running across the face and everything plunges into a dark blue hue, specs of white dust fluttering around it. And vines...

You snap out of your vision just as Clara opens the door, a laugh leaving her lips.

“Bye, guys!” She calls to her friends before locking the door. She turns around to see you stood, staring at the phone while biting your lip.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” She closes the space and you slowly shake your head.

Every thought in your mind was telling you that they were fine. That it was all a misunderstanding. You weren’t in Hawkins, there was no reason for them to be unsafe.

But the shiver in your bones told you otherwise.

You finally meet Clara’s eyes, eyebrows furrowed. You take a breath.

“I’m going back to Hawkins.”

Chapter 1: Hunting Season ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs/ @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit/ @f1nn-wolfhard/ @hereiamhereigo/ @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley/ @mothmanatemycat

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edge-oftheworld · 3 months

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I can’t remember who said it but someone floated the idea that calm was released in the wrong era to get the recognition and popularity it deserves and I do see that, the more I look into it the more I notice a technical expertise that I’ve seen in very little else (like 5sos5 is good, in a softer way, and youngblood is too in a more fun, adventurous way) but there’s something about them having perfected their youngblood sound and just taken every side branch off it they could think of with the same foundation and practiced their instruments so much that the confidence is noticeable and then also the fact that the first six songs people heard and they were so diverse that they didn’t really realise they were by the same people and those people were 5sos. and then the fact that the album tells one of the most cohesive stories I’ve ever heard and sonically gets pulled together in the second half by not in the same way and thin white lies and lonely heart and the cohesiveness is incredible, especially with its encore kill my time which draws everything together from the lyrics and imagery to the self deprecation to the industrial pop rock sound with incredible vocals in from the low to falsetto ranges and they worked so hard with so many people to create it. was the diversity what prevented some sales or was it the pandemic? or was it always meant to be a masterpiece that was never a piece of its time but timeless like the influences from the 90s and early 2000s that we would come back to every time they release a new album showing the skills they picked up in this era and more and go wow they did this, they were doing this even then?

but it makes sense doesn’t it? youngblood came after the likes of reputation and evolve where we were just getting into that bass-led slightly darker than the early to mid 2010s pop sound and calm is more a twentyteens than 20s album, in my far from expert opinion they shouldn’t have sat on it that long and released it in 2019 before we stopped going down that route, but I think they learned that lesson and they made a point not to hold onto it any longer and weren’t we blessed to enter the pandemic with this? maybe we weren’t ready for how dark and emotional it is and maybe we still haven’t learned how to feel it as much as we need to. but here is a piece of work that is going to last and be discovered again and again and can be enjoyed at any age and that’s the beauty of it.

#calm #5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #silver arranges calm #silver arranges 5sos #albums mentioned:#evolve #imagine dragons #repuation #taylor swift #musician rambles

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morganski-19 · 3 months

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I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 9: Fights

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 8

cw: grief

December 1984

Julie stares at the small journal in her hands. Carefully figuring out how to wrap it so it looks pretty like her mom’s. It’s not a perfect present either. Her mom always insisted that she didn’t need to get her anything for her birthday, it already being enough that Julie was here at all. But that felt cheap, wrong. Her mom provided so much for her, she didn’t even deserve the world if it could be given.

So, she did the only thing she could do, wrote a story. It’s been the same for the last few years, something quick and easy but meaningful. A picture of the two of them that she drew, was last years, and now a story to accompany it.

A story where the two of them were happy. Not that they weren’t now, just a different type of happy. In her story, they were living in a house, not a trailer. Three floors, each with its own secrets to unravel. Ghost stories come to life and pictures moving on their own. Journeys they two of them would undertake, just the two of them.

Because that’s how it always was. Julie and her mom, hand in hand and fighting through life together.

They didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want it half of the time. Every time a new person came into their life, it ruined it just a bit. Always disrupted the peace that Julie and her mom had made. And while it could be lonely sometimes, just the two of them, she wouldn’t change it one bit.

So, it felt wrong not to get her something on her birthday. Which was today and Julie can’t even figure out how to wrap it properly. Giving up, she just does it. Folds the paper and tapes it down. The corners are a bit wrinkled, and the paper is sideways, but it’s wrapped.

When she gives it to her mom over breakfast, it’s taken with a smile. The bad wrapping ignored for what’s inside. The hug her mother gives her with a thank you makes up for everything. It didn’t matter that the present wasn’t anything special, it was special to her mom, and to her. That’s all it needed to be.

. . .

Present Day, December 1986

“The place looks the same as when I came here before,” Sarah concludes, writing something in her folder. “Except for the new decorations in Julie’s room, of course.”

Steve stands next to Julie, patiently waiting for the inspection to be over. Even though it went fine, he made sure nothing incriminating was in the house, it still made him nervous. Sarah seemed to be on his side of this, but he was still unsure.

Julie leans against the railing, picking at the skin around her nails. It’s gotten worse in the past few days, bandaids starting to wrap around her thumbs these days. Her hair pulled back in loose braids to hide the fact that it isn’t washed.

There’s this feeling that something is up, and not like it has been before. That something, significant, is coming up. A date that she is now spending without her mom. And he wants to talk about it, but she keeps shutting him out before he can even try. He just doesn’t know what to do.

“I just have some questions to ask the two of you, and then I’ll be on my way. Steve, how about you first.”

Steve nods and leads Sarah to the kitchen table, sitting across from her. She opens a different folder from the one she used in the inspection, glancing at what is inside before looking up at him.

“I had a few more questions about you before I get to discussing the adjustment. You said that you started taking care of the financial aspects of the house since you were sixteen?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s right.”

“Was that the first time your parents left you alone when they went on one of their trips?”

The urge to lie is strong. Just say that it was and get it over with, no one had to know the true extent of what his parents did. But she’s looking at him with the same concern she’d give Julie. That she’s looking out for him as well as her. And for the first time in his life, he feels the need to tell another adult the truth.

“Uh, no. They’ve been going on long trips since I was eight. Never as long as it was when I turned sixteen, but not that short either.”

A sourness turns in Sarah’s eyes with a slight twitch. He tenses, thinking it is geared toward him. But as she scribbles something in a file with his name, he can’t help but think it’s the same anger he’s been feeling for years.

“When you were eight, who was watching you?”

“Nannies mostly.”

“How many years did they hire nannies.”

Steve scratches at the back of his neck, trying to think. “Until I was twelve, thirteen maybe. At least the overnight ones, day to day ones stayed for another two or so years before there was none at all.”

A deep sigh escapes from her mouth as she continues to write. “How long were their trips then? Shorten than now.”

“Yeah. They were a month or two back then, getting longer as I got older. But when I turned sixteen, that’s when the longest one was.”

“And how long was that one?”

“Two years,” he says, for the first time letting it sink in how long it really was.

He knew that it was wrong that they left him alone, that much was obvious. When he was little, he used to cry and wish that they would come home. That they would want him. The hurt turned into anger with age, and now is just a distant memory.

The anger’s still there but trapped behind a veil of other people had it worse. At least he had a roof over his head and a never-ending cash flow to keep himself fed. A job that he went to every day and a car that he didn’t have to pay for. It was just how it was, and there was nothing Steve could do to change that.

But he’ll watch the Byers’, the Henderson’s, the Sinclair’s, and the Wheeler’s, Robin’s parents and Eddie’s uncle. All people who are there, for the most part, that want their kids. It’s hard to ignore the sting in his chest when he goes over for holiday dinners without his parents. Watching the other kids be loved by the people who created them. But it was fine because he made his own family with them. He had family because of them.

It was enough, until it wasn’t. Enough until his father called to berate him, and all that was left was the question of what he could do to earn his father’s love. His father’s respect, admiration. The answer was always nothing, and it was a simple fact that Steve accepted long ago.

“So, I’m going to hand you something, and it’s up to you to decide what you want to do with it, ok.” Sarah closes the folder she was writing in and slides it across the table.

“Ok,” he takes the folder and opens it. Inside is a list of evidence, with notes of how to gather materials to prove it, as well as a pamphlet on how to sue your parents for neglect, and the business card of a lawyer. “What is this?”

“Things I’ve started to write down since our last talk. It’s clear, from the way you talk about them, that they have neglected you. Which is why I asked you more questions about it today and given you this folder. If you would like to, you can sue them for neglect and, if there’s a paper trail of what you’ve said, probably win.”

Thoughts cloud his mind, making it impossible to fully grasp at what she’s saying. Sue his parents, clear neglect. Ruin the little relationship he has with his parents, for what, money. Proving in front of a court the exact type of people they were. Ruin their reputation among the public, and his among their friends because he stood up. Does he really want that?

“Of course, you don’t have to do it, not if you’re not comfortable with it. But, if you were to ever want reparations for the way they treated you, the evidence is there. And it’s damning.”

Steve opens his mouth a few times, but the words don’t come out. “I-I’ll think about it,” is all he can figure out what to say. Not a yes, but also not a no.

“Ok, let’s move on to something else, alright.”

“Ok.”

. . .

Julie is sitting at her lunch table, half falling asleep over her uncompleted math homework. She couldn’t get it done after the check in yesterday. Stress about what was going to come of it, that she might be moved again, had filled most of her day yesterday. Then she was too empty to think of doing anything other than lying in her bed. So, no homework got done.

Not like that was an uncommon occurrence these days. Homework seemed so trivial to the rest of her life. Moving houses, adjusting to new places. Grieving. All of it’s too much already, she doesn’t need to have homework piled on top of it.

Last night was bad, worst than normal. Which is to be expected of this week, but it still hurt. All the questions Sarah asked her to make sure she was adjusting, that she liked it there.

“Do you like it here, Julie?” she asked across the kitchen table.

“Yes,” Julie answered because it was the truth. But only half of it. “I do.”

Sarah had seemed satisfied with her answers, ending the meeting with a promise to be there if she should ever need it. If she would need to move again. Julie didn’t want to move again, she did really like it at Steve’s. There was just something missing, and that was the sad fact of Julie’s existence.

The worst part of it all is that his house started to feel like hers too. Her room was actually her room, with it’s painted walls and posters found at the thrift store. Clothes in the overflowing laundry bin, schoolwork scattered across all the surfaces. It’s her dishes in the sink and her tv program on pause in the living room.

Julie was finally starting to feel at home. Which was the problem.

“Can I ask you a question,” Max asks, breaking Julie out of her thoughts. “You totally don’t have to answer it, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But I’ve been thinking about it and Steve mentioned that you two are living together now, and I just. Are you ok? Like really ok?”

“I’m fine,” Julie responds coldly, packing up her math homework.

“Yeah, no, I get that. It’s just, when Billy died, I was really going through it, and I didn’t really want to talk about it that much. But it helps, to talk about it, sometimes. And I’m here for you, we’re here for you, me and Jane. We’ve both dealt with this kind of stuff, so if you wanted to talk about it, you could. With us, I mean.”

They’re looking at her like they understand, and they might. But this isn’t the run of the mill thing here. Loosing a brother sucks, Julie’s sure, but she knows they weren’t as close as losing her mom. And Jane, well she didn’t know a lot about Jane so she can’t really speak on that.

This pain was hers and hers alone, and no one can really know what she’s going through. Not the counselors pulling her out of classes to talk to her, not her teachers asking to talk to her after class. Not even then, her only friends she’s had in a long time.

“I told you, I’m fine,” she spits.

She tries not to feel angry when people ask about it. Tries not to feel angry when they try to connect with her. Show that they care. Because she should be grateful that people still care about her. That there are other people who give a shit other than her mom. And a part of her is, but the rest of her stings with the knowledge that they’re only here because her mom is gone.

Max readjusts herself, pressing her lips together. “I get it, I do. Just know that we’re here.”

“Steve was just worried about you,” Jane adds, innocently.

“Jane,” Max exclaims, “We weren’t supposed to tell her that part.”

The only reason she ever met Steve in the first place was because she really had nothing else. And while she was always going to tell him about her existence, of his father’s affair, she’s not so sure she would have done it in the way she did. Meeting him was the last lifeline she had after everything, so she had to take it. It worked out, and she’s grateful.

And now he’s there and he cares, and it should be great, but it hurts. Every time he gives her the look of “I care about you, just know that I’m here” her heart burns because it will never be the same. He’s opened his home to her, worked to take her in, changed his life to accommodate her. She wouldn’t change it, wouldn’t take it all back. It’s nice to have somebody. But he’s not her mom and never will be.

Every time he does something remotely close to what her mom did, she gets a burst of rage. It shows her exactly what she has lost, and what it has meant for her, and she hates it.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Julie says while slinging her bag over her shoulder. She takes her full lunch bag and dumps it into the trash on her way out of the lunchroom, heading straight to the bathroom.

Slamming the door behind her, she heads for an empty stall. She sits on the toilet, pulling the long chain of her locket from underneath her shirt. Opening it to find what’s always been there, a picture of her and her mom. Small and cut off weird, but it didn’t matter.

Tears stream down her face as quiet sobs rip through her chest. She grips the small charm close to her heart and stares at the ceiling.

“Why?” she whispers in the empty bathroom. “Just why?”

. . .

The phone rings on Steve’s nightstand, pulling him out of his sleep. He rolls over to reach the phone, dragging Eddie with him, arms gripped around Steve’s waist.

“Let it keep ringing,” Eddie mumbles into Steve’s shoulder. “Sleep.”

“Can’t, might be the school.” Steve swats Eddie away, finally able to sit up and reach the phone.

Eddie rolls onto his back in protest. “Right, you have responsibilities now. That’s not weird at all.”

“Shut up,” Steve says while picking up the phone. “Harrington residence.”

“Hi, is this Steve?” the woman on the line says.

“Yes, who is this?”

“I’m Mrs. Peters, Julie’s English teacher. You’re listed as her guardian, and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Is she ok?” He’s half ready to jump out of bed and run out the door if he needs to. Well, after putting clothes on.

Mrs. Peters sighs through the line. “Truth is, I’m not sure. I’ve had Julie in class before, and she was such a good student. One of the brightest I had. Her essays were so thoughtful and her creative writing assignments, they were beautiful. It’s all changed this year. She’s barely turning assignments in, and half asleep most of the time. I know what happened with her mom earlier this year, such a tragedy. And it’s expected that students who go through such a loss will slip a little with grades. But she skipped my class today, so I wanted to give you a call. I’m worried about her.”

Steve leans back on his headboard with a sigh. “I am too. I’ve tried to talk to her about this, but it’s always shut down.”

“I’m sure it’s a hard topic for her to talk about it.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“That’s all I really called for, to see if she’s getting the support she needs at home. I remember you, had you a few years ago when I was teaching seniors. You were a good kid when you started trying, I know you’ll take good care of her.”

His heart warms with some sort of pride. “Thank you, that means a lot. I’m really trying here.”

“I’m sure she knows that. I hope things go better for you, and you’ll be able to talk to her about this. Thank you for stepping up and taking her in.”

“Wasn’t that hard of a decision once I got to know her.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. I’ll let you go. Good luck, Steve.”

“Thanks for calling bye.” He hangs up the phone, sliding back down under his covers.

Eddie rolls over to look at him. “The school.”

“Yeah,” Steve says while staring at the ceiling. “Remember Mrs. Peters, she’s Julie’s English teacher. Said she missed class today, hasn’t been turning work in.”

Eddie hums. “You’re worried about her.”

How can he not be? When all he sees is the empty shell of a person some days. And he knows that’s not what she’s normally like. Because she’s bright and funny on the better days. And so, so caring.

It was there more in the middle, not the beginning, and not now. But if the night they first met was day one, and this is now day whatever it is. Right in the middle, he could see her, without the sadness that looms in her eyes. Just last week he saw it too, when they were picking up stuff for her room and painting it all. She was there. But the sadness came back again.

“It’s not like I’m expecting her to magically get better, for her grief to go away. I just,” he takes a deep breath. “I just want her to know that I’m here, that she can talk to me. Cause I might not know exactly what she’s going through, but I know enough about it. And even if I didn’t, I’m here to listen.”

He rolls on his side to face Eddie. Eddie takes his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“I just keep getting caught up in this loop of saying I want to help her. To let her know that I’m here. So she doesn’t have to go through this alone. But I never know how to say it, or show it, so I just don’t. And the days keep going on, and she’s still isolating herself. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s hard, I know,” Eddie comforts. “And, as someone who lost a parent kinda like she did, it sucks, a lot. You think the world has ended and you’re left all alone. You’re angry, and sad, and so many emotions you just can’t name. But can I tell you something that you’re doing right?”

Steve shifts closer to Eddie. “What.”

“You’re showing her that you care. You take her out and change her room, despite the fears that you have. You ask her about her day, and make sure she has food to eat. You make her feel safe, Steve. That is more than any kid can ask for during this time. And while you’re still going to feel like you’re not doing enough. You’re doing the best that you can. If you want to ask her about her mom, you can, it just might not be met with the reaction you want it to.”

He lets out a long breath. “I think that’s why it’s taken me so long to say something. It’s already so weird knowing that we’re related. And knowing that the only reason I know that is because her mom died. It feels weird.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand. “How are you doing with all of this? We haven’t really talked about it since when it first happened.”

Better, Steve thinks. He’s doing better. Even though he now wakes up in his painted room and almost goes into a panic attack. Even though he goes to a job he knows his dad hates. And now provides a home to the kid his dad never wanted.

It’s been hard accepting that he’s officially throwing away the role his parents expected him to play. That he’s finally breaking the last bit of relationship he has between them. He’s finally willing to leave. To have the life he wants, not what they want.

They want the wife and the kids with the picket fences and a good paying job. A respected, get a degree first kind of job. Where the anxieties and the nightmares never happen, and the trauma doesn’t exist. Where Steve’s hearing is normal, and his brain isn’t damaged. Where the scars aren’t there, and he won’t flinch every time the light flickers.

And while some of those things he still wants in his life. The kids, the house, a good paying job. Some aspects of his life are irreversible, unchanging. He didn’t ask for them, but that doesn’t mean they never happened. It’s a part of his life that they will never accept, or even know about.

“As good as I can be. I think a part of me will always hate him, for what he did. To me, and to Julie. And I’m tired of thinking that there will be a day where I’m not a disappointment to him. Especially when there are some parts of my life that I know would get me kicked out of the house. Out of his life. But” he takes a breath, “I don’t want to have a dad if that means I can’t be who I am.”

Eddie smiles, soft with a bit of pain. “It hurts to hear you say that, because I want you to have a family that will love you for all the amazing things that you are. But I am so proud of you for getting to a place where you can say that. I know it was hard.”

“It was,” Steve says, tears gathering in his eyes.

“C’mere,” Eddie pulls him into a hug, holding Steve close as everything lets go.

It was a lot of work getting to the place he is. Time and effort and tears. Years of built up, years of pain. But as the world came crumbling around him, he found more happiness in other people than he has in his entire life. Friends he never would have associated with, a family he never thought he would have.

And here in the bed his father paid for is a man that Steve likes, might even be starting to love. It’s the biggest fuck you he could have ever sent his father’s way. Because in Eddie’s arms, everything starts to fit into place. Everything finally made sense. He is finally, truly, himself.

Steve built himself a home. With Eddie, with Robin, with the kids, with Julie. He had his family, and nothing was going to take that from him now.

. . .

Julie just wants to go home. Wants to crawl into her bed and pray for sleep to come so this awful day can be over. Screw the test she has tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Not today, and not tomorrow. The sadness will keep coming back, no matter how hard she tries.

She’s just so tired of it being like this. Of having good days where it hurts a bit less, where she can smile and actually mean it. But then waking up the next day and feeling like everything is terrible and never going to get better. Where she can have good days like last weekend, just followed with terrible days like today.

And she knew this day was coming, and knew it was going to be hard. She knew that the day before, and the day after, hell the whole week would be rough. That the grief was going to hit its highest peak since that first week. But it was worse than she could have ever thought.

Steve has off from work today, which means when Julie walks out of the high school doors, his car is in its usual spot next to Eddie’s van. She’ll have to make conversation on the drive back, before being able to escape to her room.

It’s just twenty minutes, she tells herself. Twenty more minutes of an impossible day, before she can stop pretending.

“Hey,” Steve says when she walks up to his car.

She mumbles a small hello before shuffling into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a thud behind her. Steve says a goodbye to Eddie before climbing into the driver’s seat. Pulling out of the parking lot without a word.

“How was school?” he prompts, fishing for something. Like he knows.

Julie hates that. It’s just another thing that pangs in her chest. Something her mom would do countless times when she knew something was bothering Julie. Only another reminder that she isn’t here today. That Julie’s living with someone else.

Leaning her head against the window, watching the trees fly by as they drive, she tries to stay calm. Tries to find a normal way to respond so he’ll just stop.

“Like it always is,” she whispers, just audible enough that he’ll hear it, but quite enough so he knows she doesn’t want to talk about it.

He must understand because it’s the last thing he tries to talk about in the car. She just wraps her coat tighter around her, closing herself up as much as possible. Trying to convince her brain that just because she left the school, the tears aren’t allowed to break through again. She already cried in a bathroom today, she didn’t need to do it in his car either.

“Hey, could we talk for a minute?” Steve asks when they get home, stopping Julie from immediately locking herself away in her room.

She can’t help the eyeroll that comes, the visible slump in her shoulders as she turns to face him. Crossing her arms across her chest, coming off defensive to hide the range of emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“What,” she says more bitter than she’d like to admit.

Steve flinches, not expecting the harshness in her voice. He takes a breath, trying to think of what to say, like it’s important. She can’t deal with another thing today.

“I got a call from one of your teachers today, Mrs. Peters. She said you missed class,” he says it with a level voice, face full of concern.

It does nothing but make her blood boil. He wasn’t supposed to know, wasn’t supposed to care. That wasn’t supposed to be his job. Steve was her brother, not her parent. Julie didn’t have one of those anymore. And the face he’s making is the one she would see all the time, practically lived on her mom’s face sometimes.

“So,” she rolls her eyes. Wishing he would just drop it.

It’s like the two images of them are morphing together in her mind. Her mom and Steve becoming one person. Like he’s replacing her, becoming the new person in her life to fill that role. He didn’t get to do that. She didn’t get to forget her mom. Even if she doesn’t live in the same house anymore, even if her life has changed. It was never supposed to.

“So. I’m worried about you. You’re missing class and skipping meals. You think I don’t notice when you go to school in the same clothes as the day before. I know that this all has to be a lot for you, believe me I know how life can just take everything and spit you out expecting you to recover like nothing happened. I know-.”

“You don’t know,” Julie bursts, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “You can’t possibly know what it’s like. It’s bad enough that you ask my friends to try to talk to me about it, at school even. You don’t get to say that you know what I’m going through.”

Steve takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t ask them to talk to you about it.”

“But you mentioned it to them, isn’t that enough.” She’s yelling now. Anger that she knows is misplaced, hitting the only target it could find.

“And I’m not saying I know what you’re going through. I’m saying that I’ve been in a place like yours before and it sucks. It’s one of the worst things a person can go through.”

“I get that you had a sad childhood, and your parents were never around. But that doesn’t give you the right to compare your situation to mine.”

It’s a low blow and she knows it. An arrow perfectly aimed just to get him to shut up. To get him to hurt enough to leave her alone. Because she can be mad at him. He’s here to be mad at. Giving her every opportunity to.

Because she can’t be mad at her mom. Julie can’t be mad at her for leaving her alone. For leaving at all. How can she be mad at the dead for leaving. She can wish and pray and beg the universe for her mom to come back. Cry a river of tears caused by the unbelievable grief that it’s left her in. Be upset with all that’s happened to her. Wonder what went wrong that night to take it all away from her.

But angry. No, that wasn’t allowed. She’s not allowed to be angry at her mom, especially for this.

Her words hit their mark, making Steve stop for a second. For his eyes to glaze over just a bit before he blinks it away. She should be remorseful, should take back everything she said and get it over with. But for a small second, she thinks that this might be over. That she can just run away without saying another word and cry herself to sleep for the third night in a row.

But instead, he keeps talking.

“That’s not what I was talking about, but that doesn’t matter. The point of all of this, was to tell you that I’m here if you ever want to talk.” The levelness of his voice is gone, and all that is left is bitterness behind his words. Just like she wanted, but it still stings. For reasons that she can’t quite explain even if she wanted to. But she’s tired of talking, so she just explodes.

“Just stop ok,” she pleads through her raised voice. “You’re not my mom.”

Her chest heaves with her words, the arrow coming back and hitting her instead. Tears well up in her eyes as she grabs her bag, running up the stairs before he can say anything else. And she’s pretty sure he does, but she can’t hear it. Doesn’t care that she didn’t.

Instead, she slams her door and falls into her bed. Not her bed, actually. Because her bed is back in the trailer park with her mom in the other room. Now it’s empty with nothing but her mother’s ghost, and Julie’s not even there to try and say hello.

. . .

“I’m not trying to be,” Steve says as Julie’s running up the stairs. She slams her bedroom door, isolating herself and blocking him out.

It could have gone better. A lot better. It actually went to shit. He didn’t know how else to do it. And he should have just waited, he saw what she was like in the car. That far off distant look as she just gazed out the window and didn’t talk. Not like he would ever force her to, but he wanted her to.

There was a day a few weeks ago where he picked her up, and she was so talkative. Told him about this book that she was reading for a book report and how much she liked it. How she saw herself in the main character, and loved how the world was crafted. Went on a on about it for the whole ride, and even past that. It was great, it was her.

That day, he saw past the grief that’s been encapsulating her. To the girl she was before the accident, before her mom passed. He just wanted to be able to see it more often sometimes.

It’s not like he was trying to speed run her grief, he never would. It just hurt to see her come home every day and shove all her feelings away just to keep a neutral face. To hide the fact that she was hurting from him. He didn’t have the right to see how she really felt, but he wanted to offer the key if she ever wanted to open the door.

So, he tried to, but look where that ended.

He runs a hand through his hair, keeping his hand and the back of his neck with a long exhale. Thoughts rushing through his head on how he can fix this. How he can apologize for pushing, and just take back everything that happened.

It’s an impossible task, he knows. Time, she just needs a little time to cool down. And Steve does too. The focus is on her, but he can’t ignore what she said either. Even if it wasn’t the worst this in the world, it was just enough to make him falter. To make him a little angry. Upset. He knew the technique well. Hurt someone else just because you’re hurting. Doesn’t make it right, but he knows.

Steve’s not angry at Julie, not for what she said. If anything, he’s just sad. Hurts for her and what she is going through. How even though he knows grief, he doesn’t know this. Losing a parent is something he never experienced, not like this. But he still wants to reach out.

He gives it an hour, lets her have her space. For her to cool down, and for him to as well. Let’s what happened settle in, so it’s not rushed.

Standing in front of Julie’s door, he knocks gently. She doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t hear music coming through the room, but that doesn’t mean she’s listening. He still talks anyway.

“Julie. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that, and I didn’t mean to make you upset. I could have been gentler, could have said it differently. And probably could have waited for a better time. But I’ve been worried about you for a while now. And while you probably don’t want me to be, it’s true. You’re my sister, and while we haven’t known each other for a long time, I still care about you.”

He pauses, thinking about what to say, and how to say it. To tread lightly. Deciding it’s best just to take a step back, just a bit.

“I’m going to be honest, I have,” he takes a deep breath, “no idea what I’m doing. When you showed up at my door that night, I didn’t know what was going to happen past that. What I did know, is that I wanted to help you. I wanted to get to know the sister that I never knew, that I was never given the chance to know. And you let me, you let me give you a space in my house, you let me into your life. Sure, there were a lot of other factors in there that I’m sure influenced that decision, but I hope at least part of it was that you wanted to get to know me too.”

Steve rests his head on the door, willing himself to just find a point to this. “You’re right, I have no clue what you’re going through. The other things in my life that I’ve gone through, they might be similar, but they’re not the same. And I would never say that they are. But I’m here for you, whether you want me to or not. You’re the only blood related family I got, too. I’m not going away that easy. But I can never know how you’re feeling if you don’t let me in.”

He waits a minute, seeing if she would open the door. But the hall clock’s second hand the only sound filling the space, so he steps back and turns to walk away. Until the door lock clicks.

“What about your parents?” Julie asks, door open.

A sigh of relief escapes his lungs, He might have done something a little right.

“I was sixteen when they left for two years straight with barely a phone call from them every few months. The only time they came back was to reprimand me for not getting into college the day of my high school graduation. They didn’t even go to the ceremony. I might be related to them, but they’re no family.”

Julie stares at him with tears still painting her eyes. Hair falling out of her ponytail and sweatshirt sleeve cuffs still a little damp. “You were left alone, here, all by yourself at sixteen?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I know a little what it’s like to be left behind at this age. Not the same, but not entirely different.”

She opens the door a little more, motioning with her head for him to come in. He walks into the room, sitting down next to her at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t really mean it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for pushing.”

Wiping a fresh tear off her cheek, she pulls something from underneath the bed and holds it in her lap. A small journal. “Don’t be. I think I needed you too, just a little bit.”

“Can I ask what that is?”

Julie presses her lips together, blinking away a lingering tear. She hands him the journal, letting him take it. He doesn’t look in it though, it doesn’t feel right.

“I pretty much have a journal a year, sometimes two.” She points to the tall stack of journals on her desk. “Every year since I was seven. I wrote stories in them, journal entries, and drew pictures with them. A few years ago, I got an empty journal to write a story in for my mom. And every year, I would ask for it back and write a new story in it. It was her birthday present every year.”

He looks at the journal in his hand, already knowing where this is going. “I’m sure she loved it.”

“She did,” Julie whispered. “I never got to finish the one for this year. After everything that happened, just couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Let alone finish it.’

“I’m sure she would understand, you’ve had a rough couple of months.”

“Yeah,” she lets out a shaky breath. Leaning her head back on the foot of the bed and looking up towards the ceiling. “Today’s her birthday,” she chokes out. “And I just feel so guilty for not finishing it.”

Steve doesn’t quite know what to do, but he’s trying. “Hey,” he places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” Tears start to roll down her cheeks faster than she can wipe away. “I’m just so sad that she’s gone, and then I get angry. I get angry at her for leaving, and at the accident for happening. Then I get upset for being angry because I know it wasn’t her fault. I can’t be mad at her for something that’s not her fault.”

“You still have a right to feel whatever you are about it all though. Be mad at the universe, not her. Be upset that she’s not here anymore, wish that she was here. All of those things.” He laughs in his head about the irony of what he’s saying, about what he’s going to say. How it took other people telling him to do the same thing for him to finally let himself feel. “Keeping it all bottled up, ignoring that they’re there and telling yourself that you shouldn’t feel this way. That’s not healthy, believe me.”

Julie looks at him, finally. Eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears. “I miss her.”

“I know you do.”

The dam lets itself loose and Julie crumbles, leaning toward Steve as she breaks. He pulls her into a hug similar to the one that he gave Dustin months prior when they were waiting in hospital rooms. Holding her close to shield away the bad, as the emotions ignored to keep appearances finally break free. Letting her know that he’s safe, and he’s here.

That he’ll always be here.

Part 10

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

#stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #long lost/secret sibling #steve has a sibling #steve harrington #julie lawson #eddie munson #steddie #max mayfield #el hopper #angst #cw grief #tw grief #i don't know which ways home fic

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eternalsams · 4 months

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Forgiveget Me -> personal vent

A/n: this is a personal ramble, vent, call it whatever you want. What you're about to read is a true personal story that happened to me a few weeks ago and in view of moving on from this, I decided to use my 'writing skills' to get the feelings out.

I am very proud of this because it was hard to go through this kind of event, this is something nobody deserves to go through so I also post this for everyone who might have lived something similar to tell them they're not alone and that their feelings are valid. You deserve closure just as much as I do, this is my way to get one.

As I'm posting this, I'm in a better place and even though I still have lots of mixed feelings about this situation, I've had multiple conversations with the other person and I will forever be grateful for them to help me with my communication. As I often say, communication is key, whatever you're feeling.

I tried being a little poetic in there, I hope it's not as cringe as I think it might be. So, enjoy!

Our meet cute never happened. Another hand used to hold yours when I first talked to you. When I first laughed with you. And yet I knew I liked you. You left and I almost forgot about you. Maybe it would've been better. Maybe you should've stayed out of my life. But you didn't. You stormed back in and I was so glad. Because above all that, you were a friend. Until that night. You were as lonely as I was and we found company in each other. We talked until late, we laughed about everything and nothing. And from that night I knew I was doomed. You couldn't be mine. Your hand started holding mine but nothing more could happen.

Maybe it was a "right person, wrong time" kind of thing. Maybe we just weren't meant for each other.

But you still held my hand, wrapped your arms around me, maybe you even kissed my head. I don't remember. Or maybe I would've wanted you to. I definitely wanted to kiss you. Wanted to hold you so close we might become one. You were the first one to make me feel so weak. The first one to hold my hand, to wrap your arms around me like you wanted me by your side forever. Forever ended sooner than I thought. You held me until our last moment together. Until I had to leave. It felt as if I had to leave the country because I knew even then you wouldn't hold my hand for long after that. But you held on for longer than I thought.

For months, your hand only held your phone when mine was sending you a text. I thought I was losing you multiple times but you were quick to reassure me, strengthening my trust and blinding me a bit more every time. I felt like I was falling hard and fast, only to land on the softest cloud. One day, my little cousin asked me if I had a boyfriend. And I said 'yes' because that's what you were to me. In a child's mind, it's not different if you're in love or not, it's all the same. You were my sweetheart. The one that made me blush looking at my phone. The one calling me pretty when I didn't feel like it. You were my everything.

And then you started taking your distance.

I didn't say anything. You were not mine to keep. But I definitely was yours. I had been yours since the first time you held my hand. Before you even called me beautiful. Before your arm wrapped around my waist to keep me close. I was entirely yours. I knew something was wrong when you stopped being flirty. When you only told me about your days and you stopped teasing me. I tried giving you some space, some time. But it hurt too much to do long, so I completely doomed myself. 'We need to talk'. I knew those words would hurt like hell if I ever received them. But nobody told me how hard it would be to press 'send' after writing them. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. Maybe I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't send this text. But I did. And maybe that's when our story needed to end.

When you told me you started holding another hand.

It broke something in me, maybe not my heart but definitely my trust. When I specifically told you I trusted you to tell me whenever you'd need to let go of my hand, ou said nothing. You lied. And that broke something in me. But how could I ever be mad? You weren't mine. You were free. I was not. You still held my heart in your hand and you'll probably always have a part of it with you wherever you go. You started holding her hand a few weeks ago, as you told me. But how could I ever put my trust in your words again? You said you were lost in your feelings but so was I. You were my everything and you just threw my hand away. At least, that's how it felt. I had done so much for you, shared so much, trusted too much. I said "I need time", you said "okay". You then asked if I was mad and at first I didn't lie. Even with everything we went through, I just couldn't be mad at you. But that truth became a lie when the shock faded away. I was so mad, so angry. How could you do that to me when all I've done was being honest with you? How could have I trusted you so easily? I was mad at myself for letting my guards down the moment you first looked at me with those eyes.

You were not different from the others. You all end up lying and breaking my trust. But you aimed higher and broke my heart in the process. I would've appreciated giving you the credit of being the first one, but that would be lying. It's not a surprise I loved you more than you did me, I got used to it. But I didn't expect it to be that painful whenever reality would've caught with me. I was done blaming myself, you were the one who cheated in our game. Not me. Not her. And that's why I couldn't even be mad at her. She didn't know. She thought she was holding a lonely hand when in fact I was there. Not completely, but I just couldn't let go of your hand.

I loved holding it, squeezing my fingers in between yours and feeling you squeeze in return. I miss this. I miss feeling you close to me, feeling your eyes looking at me with so much adoration and interest. I miss blushing because of the sweet words you'd tell me whenever I'd cross your gaze. I miss you.

And I know that even if you want me back, it would never be the same. I could never love you the way I loved you, talk to you the way I used to. Not because I don't want to. But because I couldn't, I wouldn't let myself. You broke something in me that day that will never be the same. You broke my trust, my faith, my self-confidence, you broke my heart. And I will never forgive you for that. No time, no patience will ever bring it back.

I will always accept your apologies because I know I deserve them, but you'll never hear me say "I forgive you". Because I don't.

tag list (people who interacted with the announcement of this vent and friends): @books4ever03 @shanimallina87 @hangmansgbaby @top-hhun-main @roosterforme @rawecreek @hookslove1592 @virgosunbaby

#eternalsams rambles

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fang-and-feather · 8 months

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Ikemen Vampire - Shakespeare/Vincent/Reader - Magic AU/Magical Reader

Prompt(s): AU of your choice from Year of the OTP August by @yearoftheotpevent and Reconnection AU by @augustwritingchallenge

Summary: Meeting you again was a coincidence and Will was willing to walk away, for your sake. You and Vincen had other plans, though.

I think this is one of the polyam ships that I wrote that makes the most canonical sense...

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William Shakespeare’s love story could easily be one of his plays. At least, this last time, someone had a happy ending.

He hoped so. He wanted to believe that you and Vincent had returned to each other despite his attempts at breaking you apart.

Will told himself his actions were just for the sake of seeking inspiration. Looking back at it, he had been jealous. Of both of you. The friend he refused to acknowledge his love for was more than a platonic bond, and the woman he feared his growing feelings for, even before someone put a name to them. Jealous of the bond you shared, afraid of the feelings awakening in him, afraid to be left behind.

In the end he was left, more than a century behind. And it was for the best. For you and Vincent, who were safe and happy, and maybe for him, since the tragedy fueled his work. There were three of you. Someone would be left to suffer, no matter how the story had unfolded.

Even when his time caught up, Will didn’t plan to meet you again. Fate had other ideas, though. Will never thought he would see you by accident, in Paris of all places. What were you two doing back there? Hadn’t you gone back to your home country?

But the sight that caught his attention on the other side of that cafe’s window wasn’t a figment of his imagination, the illusion of a lonely heart’s desire.

The two of you looked so happy together as he expected, but Will couldn’t help but feel bittersweet about it. The flames of jealousy still burned in his chest at the sight of the happiness he could never have, and that was why he had to stay away.

Determined to leave before any of you noticed him, Will turned around but he hadn’t taken three steps when an energy like a whirlwind surrounded him, making him stop in his tracks. It was human magic, not strong enough to deter him, a vampire if he wanted to fight it. But it was also your magic. He would recognize that enticing signature scent anywhere, and that was what made him actually stop.

Will sighed when he heard you leave the shop, and the power surrounding him subsided. He still wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. Not in front of you.

“Why are you running away, Will?” You held his arm from behind, but he didn’t turn around.

You were speaking in a low voice, and Will noticed the attention you were getting from people walking by. Another reason to end this soon.

“After what I did to you, it is safer that our paths do not cross again. Return to his side and forget this meeting.” He gently extracted himself from your grasp, finally turning around to look at you. “Goodbye, my fair maiden. I will pray for your happiness. Although it may not be my place to, after my efforts to destroy that very happiness.” He kissed the back of your hand before attempting to let go.

But you only held his hand tighter, meeting his eyes with determination in your gaze.

“I have already forgiven you, Will. I know why you did that. In the end, having some time apart to think was the best for all of us, but it’s been too much time for you, hasn’t it?”

“You are too kind, my lady, but I don’t deserve such kindness. I cannot guarantee I won’t repeat the same mistakes. Right now I am torn between that wish for yours and Vincent’s happiness and the desire to steal one of you away.”

You only held his hand tighter and smiled, almost with a hint of laughter in it. He felt the wind around you shift, your powers wrapping, not around him, but an area around the two of you, right when Vincent stepped out to join you. The passersby also stopped paying attention to you. Were you hiding them? Why?

Vincent approached with his usual angelic smile, and standing by your side he took both yours and Will’s free hands.

“Why do you have to steal only one of us? We missed you. We came back to Paris to see you, and we were just talking about how we’d like to steal you ourselves when we met. Can we?”

“Vincent… You know a friendly reunion is not what I meant. I…”

“That’s not what we meant, either, Will.” You chuckled, oddly amused by such a serious situation. “We love you. Both of us. And we would like you to be our partner, if you want.”

Both of them? There was nothing that would make Will happier but…

“How can that be? Love shared by three people can end in nothing but tragedy.”

“Why? We love each other, and as long as we’re willing to make it work, why can’t we all be together?”

Seeming to notice Will was still trying to process what they were saying, Vincent took over before you said anything else.

“It is a lot to explain. I was confused when she told me, too. Would you at least listen to what we have to say, Will? If you still want us to go away afterwards, we will, but would you at least listen and think about it, please?”

You and Vincent looked at him with such hopeful eyes, Will found it hard to say no. But would he dare hope? Would he dare attempt to love someone again, especially when your idea of it sounded so unbelievable?

But the thought of returning to the life he’d been leading since losing you and one more look at these pleading eyes of the people he loved and Will knew his answer.

“Do you really want to risk spending time with me, no matter what my answer may be?” He still asked, hesitantly.

Both of you nodded without even taking the time to think. That was the final push he needed.

“Then I will listen.”

There is a possibility of this fic's rating going up in later chapters but it wasn't decided yet

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#YOTP 2023 #au gust #au gust 2023 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #magic au #ot3: Shakespeare x Vincent x Reader #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfic #fanfiction #polyamory

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whalesandstars · 1 year

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Even Puppets Need Blankets (Part 2)

Wanderer & Nahida, Platonic [Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic]

Part 1

It was all your fault.

A lone boy stood in the middle of a void, in an endless stretch of desolate silence and stillness.

“It was all your fault.”

A voice. No, voices. They echoed in the bleak darkness, the words heavy as they bounced off and slammed on to him over and over again.

It was your fault.

A figure materialized in front of him. A woman with long braided indigo hair and purple irises. An archon. His mother.

The darkness gave way to light as it painted the interior of a workshop. White wood, carving tools, joints, mechanisms, blueprints, all of them sat inside the forlorn room; each one bearing the stories of creation, of the hope that the woman held for the puppet before her.

“Mother.” He looked up to her with a smile.

Like a flame extinguished by rain, the spark in her eyes faded at the sight of him,

“Mother?”

At the sight of the tears rolling down the puppet’s face.

With dread washing over him, he hastily wiped away the tears from his face, willing them to stop, but they did not.

Her eyes grew cold. Her hand that was holding his shoulder let go of him, the warmth from the contact dissipating into coldness.

“Mother, wait!”

His hand desperately reached out to her, to hold her, to make her stay, but she grew farther and farther away as the surroundings bled out and was painted over by the image of Shakkei Pavillion.

“Mother!”

His hand clawed towards her fading figure, his voice crying out her name.

“Mother, please don’t go! I promise I will do my best to be useful. I will obey every command you give me. I will study hard, I will train hard to become a stellar fighter. I will do everything…so please…”

He extended her hand to her, reaching out to her,

“Don’t go…”

Begging for the love he did not deserve.

“Don’t leave me alone…”

“It was your fault.” Her voice was cold, her eyes devoid of affection.

She turned away from him with disgust and never looked back.

The door slammed closed.

“It was your fault.”

He spun to see a young man with a deep blue bandana and a streak of red in his hair. An armory officer, a bladesmith. His friend.

His smile was warm, as warm as the flame that happily danced in the furnace. He told him to come over and handed him a hammer, handed him his trust and support even though he was not a human like them. Together, they forged a beautiful blade, crafted from the days of laughter and tempered by a bond of friendship. It reflected their faces as well as a golden feather that was hanging on the puppet’s neck, its gaze meeting with the young man’s face.

The bladesmith’s eyes went cold. The puppet watched his friend’s joyful smile fall and his lively irises went dull; the man’s face frozen in an image of hate and drilling scorn in the puppet’s non-existent heart. The young man’s hand fell limp and slipped from his shoulder, cold air blowing into the spot where it had been.

A glint of a blade, a crimson flower blooming from an unsullied white shirt.

Like the color of maple leaves, like the hue of the strands in his hair, red dripped down from the knife that had pierced the blacksmith’s chest.

“It was your fault.” He spoke with bloody lips as another man started to drag away his corpse.

“Niwa!” Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach out towards his friend, yearning to feel the last traces of his warmth, to cling on to the times they spent together that had been buried by his wrongly placed hatred towards him.

“Niwa, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” His cries echoed like a repeated prayer, “I should have trusted you…I’m sorry.”

“I will make it up to you, I will forge unparalleled swords with you.” He clawed through the leaves starting to block out his friend’s image, “Niwa, don’t leave…don’t leave please…”

Beneath his feet laid what he did not have, what he wished to have.

A heart.

Drops of tears fell beside the heart. The puppet knelt down and cradled it, holding the heart on his chest, wishing for it to beat, for its owner to be back to his side.

“I’m sorry…”

As he held it tighter, the heart morphed into something else. Red became lavender, a heart turned into a melon. The surroundings disintegrated and a forest replaced the forge, a soft afternoon breeze ruffling the puppet’s clothes.

He lifted his head to see the face of a young boy with messy sandy brown hair whose clothes were ragged and faded. A child, a fledgling barely out of the nest. His younger brother.

Sunlight fell on his sickly skin and created an illusion of a healthy pallor. He coughed, his face grimacing in pain for a second before flashing back a toothy grin. Together, they picked more lavender melons until their arms were full of them, until their faces were filled with the joy brought by the stories of their little adventures. They spent their days as a family. An older and younger brother, both fledglings in the same nest. They barely had anything, but they were happy. Their smiles were reflected on the shiny surface of a newly washed lavender melon…but that fruit disintegrated into ashes, slipping from the puppet’s fingers like grains of sand.

He whipped around with dread in his chest.

Fire greeted him. Enormous flames burned away their home, their dreams and hopes for the future crumbling into ashes. The fire mocked him. It laughed at him. It ridiculed the promises made in that house; it scoffed at the little make-believe family that was never made to last.

“It was your fault.” Came from the cold lips of the child laying in the center of the flames, his lifeless eyes fixed on the puppet he called his brother.

He wanted to run to him, to save him from the fire eating him away but flames erupted on his path. They wildly bit his skin, making him wince from the pain. It hurt. It burned. It was tearing him alive. Still, his desperation pushed through the pain as he reached out towards his brother until he was closer,

“You promised me that we would be together forever…”

And closer,

“You can’t die…”

And closer,

“You can’t…You can’t leave…”

And closer,

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

His hand was inches from the boy’s body,

But they never got the chance to meet.

The ground beneath the puppet’s feet gave out, plunging him into darkness, into a sea of black flames that wanted to drag him down its depths. It was burning him. His skin was on fire. He was on fire. It hurt. It hurt so much. He flailed his arms, twisted his limbs, anything to break free from the agony. He wanted to swim up to the surface but the black flames only dragged him down further the more he struggled. Down, down, down, he went, drowning in a sea of flames.

He was back at Tatarasuna, holding a device close to his chest,

“The furnace…We have to–I have to…”

“It was your fault.” Shadows spoke with the voices of the people of Tatarasuna; the faces of the family who welcomed him flickering amidst the raging flames.

“If you never stayed here, we would never have to die.”

The puppet felt a sharp pain in his chest.

He looked down to see a blade protruding from his torso, the tip glinting with the light of the flames around him.

A bladesmith’s voice whispered in his ear, his cold eyes fixed on a horrified indigo pair, “I never would have died if I haven't met you.”

“If Niwa did not die, he could have found a way to save me.” A child stood to the puppet’s right, his gaze accusing, “If you weren't there, Tatarasuna could have avoided getting poisoned. My parents wouldn’t have died. I wouldn’t have died.” He pointed to the crowd in the front, “The citizens of Tatarasuna wouldn’t have died.”

“It was your fault.” Shadow figures with no faces crawled and grabbed the puppet’s legs, “It was your fault that we died. You killed us all. You ruined our reputation and the lives of Raiden Gokaden’s descendants. You robbed us of our lives and our future.” The ink in their hands bled onto white clothes, dying it black.

“I’m sorry…” The puppet sobbed, “I’m sorry…”

The ground turned into liquid and he was dragged back into the sea, down, down, down, until his back slammed against a metal table. Chains wrapped themselves on his wrists and ankles, trapping him in place as a maniacal smile emerged from the shadows.

He shivered. He tried to pull against his restraints but they only went tighter, biting his skin and choking his limbs. He screamed. He screamed when he was being sliced, pulled apart, and burned. He screamed when needled jabbed him and liquid fire was injected into his body.

It hurts, It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

“It hurts…” His throat was dry and raw; his please weak and broken, “It hurts, it hurts. No more, Dotorre.”

“Oh? No more, you say?” The Doctor leaned closer to him, like a snake slithering, and hissed on his ear, “But you deserve this. In case you have forgotten, or chose to forget, it is all your fault. They all died because of you. You deserve all this pain as a repentance, no?”

The Doctor forcefully jabbed a needle onto the puppet as if he was stabbing a knife and ignored the scream that followed, “You deserve this pain. An eternity of suffering is fitting for someone as useless and despicable as you.”

“It was your fault.” The electro archon emerged from the shadows, her eyes piercing her creation with distaste, “You have been discarded because you are ugly, useless, and weak. Ever since you are created, up to this point, you are nothing but a disappointment. You have done nothing right. You achieved nothing. You should have never existed.

A shaky word amidst cries, “Mother…”

“Do not defile my name by calling me as such.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt, “I am not your mother nor you deserve to have one.” With a swing of her hand, everything beneath the puppet disintegrated, “Begone.”

He was falling.

Falling into the endless abyss.

Falling into the depths of the sea of black fire once more.

But now, even though the water burned him, he no longer fought against it.

For he deserved it.

He deserved to burn eternally in this abyss,

To fall endlessly, alone and in pain, never given the mercy of dying,

He deserved it.

They were right.

It was his fault.

Everything was his fault.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was lost in the void, his sobs fading as they stretched into the unseen horizon.

It was his fault that Niwa was killed and accused. It was his fault that Katsuragi had to meet such an undignified end. It was his fault that Tatarasuna was doomed to such a miserable fate. It was his fault that the boy never got the help he deserved, to live the life he deserved.

It was his fault that innocent blacksmiths who had bright futures were wiped out.

It was his fault that his mother discarded him.

It was his fault that the Doctor had to do such things just to make him useful to the world.

But in the end, it did nothing. In the end he had nothing. He was nothing but a murderer, a failed deity, a being lower than gods or humans. He was nothing. Nothing but useless scrap of wood that deserved to burn away to ashes in a fire.

If only…If only he was not born at all.

It was all his fault.

His misery was his fault.

Yes, it was his fault.

But it still hurt.

He knew he did not have the right to complain for the punishment he was fittingly sentenced with, but it hurt.

It hurt to feel unwanted,

To feel useless,

To feel alone,

To feel unloved.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt as he fell into the darkness.

Falling,

Just like how his tears kept falling,

Until a speck of light shone, a tiny star in the perpetual night sky.

He wanted to reach out to it but held his hand back. He did not deserve that light. He did not deserve to be saved.

Still, that soft green light grew larger and larger, closer and closer. He did not reach out to it but it reached out to him. It embraced him, extinguishing the flames on his skin and soothing away the ache inside him. It cradled him, wrapped him with gentle warmth, like a blanket in the middle of a bone-chilling winter.

It felt comforting.

He felt safe.

He knew he did not deserve this,

But he could not help but sink into it.

Because here, in this tender hold,

He felt loved.

“I am here. You are not alone anymore.” The little light spoke, “You will be alright.”

His consciousness was slowly drifting away but his doubts managed to speak out, “I am so tired…”

Tired of crying, tired of feeling miserable, tired of hurting, tired of being alone.”

“I know you are tired, so sleep.” The light embraced him tighter, “I will be here with you. Sleep and when you are doing better, we will go on a journey to find the sun, to a place, where you can find the happiness you deserve.”

Everything was silent except for the sound of a soft rhythmic breathing.

Wanderer’s limbs felt heavy; his eyelids holding the weight of the earth. Still, he willed himself to open them. The world came in a blur of colors but soon cleared to reveal a familiar room and the faint green light that reminded him of forests. He found himself staring at an empty wall as he tried to sort out the confusion in his mind, as he blinked out the remnants of his dreams.

He was alone.

Just like before.

Wait.

He could feel the warmth of a living person. There was weight on his torso. He looked down to see a tiny arm wrapped around his body beneath the blanket draped over him…a blanket draped over him and another person.

Someone was with him.

Someone was beside him.

He was not alone.

“I am here. You are not alone anymore.”

The words from his dream rang in his ears.

Ah. It was her.

A child was sleeping soundly beside him, her snow white hair framing her youthful face. She looked so calm and serene, as if she was not in the presence of a dangerous person. She seemed so peaceful as if he was a friend, as if he was not a murderer who had done atrocities to her, countless other people, and to the whole world. She slept blissfully as she embraced him, just like that light in his dream, like how a little boy once did during cold nights.

His instincts, honed by the time spent with his little brother, urged him to embrace her back, to feel her warmth, but he stopped midway. She was too pure. If…if he held her, filthy as he was, he would only taint her.

He would not touch her.

For everyone this hand touch was cursed.

He was a curse to those who he learned to love.

When long eyelashes fluttered, he immediately drew back his hand and moved away from her.

“You are awake.” She brushed off the drowsiness from her eyes, “It seems that I fell asleep while looking after you.”

Wanderer folded his arms against his chest while his gaze was glued to the empty ceiling, “You don’t have to stay this long. This affliction is no big deal.”

She sat up, “But being alone when you are not feeling well can be sad.”

There was a faint ache inside him, a part of him that understood her words, but he ignored it, “I am not a child.”

“I am aware.” She smiled, “Thank you. This is my first time experiencing falling asleep like that.”

Because she too had been alone for a long time like him.

He tucked the thought away and just huffed in response.

It took a significant amount of willpower to not let himself lean on her touch when she cupped his forehead.

“You still have a slight fever, but you are doing way better.” She did not invade his personal space any longer and hopped back to the chair beside the bed, “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“I told you before, I have no need for those.”

“This is not about needs but wants . I will not force you anything. It is just a matter of preference at the moment.”

His voice softened a little, “...a glass of water then, I guess.”

With a smile, she poured the jug on the bedside table and filled a glass before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” His voice was barely a whisper when he handed her the empty glass.

“Well, what are you still doing here?” He asked, “Don’t you have any matters to attend to about your nation?”

“I do, but it can wait.” Emerald eyes looked at her companion, “There are things we need to discuss first.”

He shied away from her gaze that seemed to see through his defenses and was staring at his bare soul, “About what?”

“About you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Stop going in circles and just tell me what you need with me.”

Her voice was patient and gentle, “I want to listen to you. Whatever you wish to say, I will listen. About your dreams, what you think, anything.” Melancholy appeared on her face, “It can be lonely to have no one to listen to you, to what you really feel.” Her face was reflected on his indigo eyes; the same sadness staring back at her, “To keep things all to yourself because no one wants to hear them, no one wants to understand them.”

To be caged in silence because no one wanted to acknowledge your existence.

It was lonely.

“So I am here to listen.”

He wanted someone to listen.

But at this point he did not even know how to begin.

“Pardon me, Lesser Lord Kusanali, but I do not need your pity. If that’s what this is about, you don’t have to bother. I am fine.”

“Are you really?” She laced her fingers together, “Can you really say that you are fine for the last centuries?”

No.

But he did not know how to say that.

His walls had risen so high that he could no longer get past them himself.

He turned around and laid on his left side, leaving his back to face the dendro archon, “I’m tired. Can we talk about this some other time?”

“But there is no other time. You will never make time. You will keep avoiding this and continue deflecting it for as long as you can.” A small paper cutout of a human bathed in dendro’s glow appears on top of her palms, “It is natural for people to avoid the uncomfortable even if it means that they will keep hurting. I do not mean to impose if doing this now will really upset you but do know that if you want to properly heal, you have to take out the thorn first and bleed. True healing comes after.”

A long silence stretched to every corner of a room, enveloping it with stillness. Seconds drummed to minutes in rhythm with the dendro archon’s heartbeats. Everything was quiet. Everything was at a standstill.

Wanderer expected her to leave like everybody else after he did not give a reply, but he never heard the sound of footsteps or door opening. She was waiting. For him.

“Why?” He spoke his mind out loud, “Why do you want to waste your time with someone like me? I tried to take your position and your nation away from you. I have hurt you and your friends over and over again. You should be hating me, not helping me.” His reply came out softer than what he often delivered but the exhaustion and slight fever were still clouding his mind, dulling his usually sharp words.

“To be honest, I am not entirely sure myself.” The paper cutout disappeared in a shower of green light, “But maybe…it is because somehow I can see myself in you. I do not condone the outcome of your destructive actions, but I do understand where you are coming from. Perhaps it was partly due to curiosity, but I wanted to give you another chance.” An image of a bird was created with dendro’s glow, “I wanted to see where your story will go. I wanted to help you live and free yourself out of the cage you are in and see where you will fly to.”

It sounded warm and inviting.

She was offering him a hand to pull him out of the ocean he was in and he wanted to take it. To clasp her hand and break into the surface, to finally be able to breathe without water clogging his lungs, to see the sky beyond the dark depths.

But a part of him was holding him back.

After all, he did not deserve to be saved.

“You deserve the help you keep denying yourself, Wanderer.”

Her words struck him like a hammer.

“Stop reading my mind.” He demanded without sparing her a glance.

“I am not.” The bird, like the paper cutout, disappeared into thin air, “I am merely making an inference based on how you previously talked and acted before. But since you reacted that way, it must be right.

He curled to himself, feeling seen, feeling naked, feeling as if the ugly side of him he did not want others to see was being exposed. But then somehow, he felt…safe? There was something about the archon that made him feel that she was not judging him. That she understood. It was the same sensation in his dream wherein he was being cradled in warmth.

He felt exposed but he felt safe.

“I mean it.” She continued with an earnest voice, “You deserve the help you keep dyeing yourself.”

“I don’t deserve it…” The words spilled out of his mouth in a whisper before he could stop it.

“Why?”

His feverish mind spoke out his thoughts for him, “It was my fault.”

“What is your fault?”

“I…” He held back the tears pricking his eyes when the voices in his dreams echoed inside his head.

It was your fault.

“Everything was my fault.”

“And yet even though you erased yourself from Irminsul their fates still ended the same.” She reminded, “So was it really your fault?” She took a deep breath, “Yes, the deaths of the members of Raiden Gokaden was yours. The actions you did to innocent people were yours. But the others were not. The deaths of your cherished ones were not yours. Being abandoned by your creator was not yours.” She watched his trembling shoulders with forlorn eyes, “It was not your fault that you have emotions. To be human is to have emotions. It is never someone’s fault to be human.”

“If that young boy was supposed to be your successor, would you blame him for being powerless and having feelings?”

“No.”

“If Niwa was fed lies and was manipulated into hating you, would you blame him?”

“No.”

“Then why do you hold yourself to the standards you will not put others in? Why do you not extend the kindness you show to others to yourself? You have loved others but you refused to love yourself. You deserve the love you deny yourself, Wanderer. So please…forgive yourself for the things that were beyond your control.”

He did not know if it was her words, his emotions, or perhaps both, he did not know. He did not know. He did not know why his tears suddenly burst out and why there was a deep ache in his chest. He did not know why her words would not leave his ears and why they sounded as if he had been waiting to hear them his whole life. He did not know.

He did not know so he just cried.

“Once upon a time, there was a cat carved from a white tree.” Nahida spoke softly as he cried, “The cat was abandoned by his mother, had found a family, and had lost them. He had endured grief alone and suffered at the hands of those who mistreated him. All this time, the cat thought he deserved it because he was someone small, weak, ugly, worthless, and detestable. But that was not true. If only he looked through the eyes of others, he would see that he was someone lost, but never someone who should not exist. Perhaps then he would see that he too, like others, deserved to be loved.

“I–” his voice broke, desperately swallowing down his sobs as he hastily wiped away his tears.

“Do not fight it. Cry.” She went down the chair and climbed back into the bed. She did not touch him because she knew that he was too fragile to be held at the moment. So she sat there with her back facing him, letting her warmth bring a semblance of comfort, “You tried to remain strong for so long, to appear strong. Are you not tired? Tired of keeping all the pain inside you? Let it all out.”

Like a dam spilling, his tears flowed freely after being confined for so long. Centuries worth of pain poured out; all the pain he had been forced down his throat in the name of vengeance resurfacing into uncontrollable sobs. He cried the tears he shed when he reached out to his mother’s back, when he held the cold heart of Niwa, and when he burned down the house where the corpse of his brother lay. It hurt. The pain he kept pushing at the back of his mind during experiments and the entirety of his life in the Fatui came out with their thorns ripping out his body as they were removed. He bled in the form of tears. The wounds were once again raw, but at least they were out.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

But at the same time, he felt liberated. He was free to grieve, he was free to cry. He no longer had to appear indestructible and feelings, and just be himself, feel, weep, and be vulnerable.

He could cry without feeling alone.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali.” He managed to say when his tears had slowed down.

“Yes?”

“Even if you said all these things, I…I don’t think I can accept it just yet.”

“Which is just natural. Forgiving and loving yourself is hard. Being kind to yourself and to others is hard.” Her emerald eyes shone with compassion, “Recovering from all of this is hard. It can take months, years, or even decades. You will fail and will have to try over and over again. But the most important part is that you have taken the first steps in your journey.”

Wanderer turned to lay on his right side, showing his face to the archon but still refused to meet her gaze, “You are the God of Wisdom. Can you tell me what to do?”

She shifted her position to fully face him, “I can, but it is not my place to tell you that. This is your journey, your story. You yourself have to experience it and find answers of your own.”

A frown appeared on his face.

Nahida lightly flicked her fingers on his forehead, a smile greeting him when he looked up at her, “You are overthinking again. You do not have to rush and come up with an answer right away. You will figure it out in time. If you are lost, I can help guide you. I am an archon and have a long life ahead of me so even if it takes you centuries, I will be here.”

“Don’t.” He shrank on the bed, sinking into the pillow, “Don’t make promises like that. Everyone who said the same thing to me did not get happy endings.”

She hummed in thought, “Is a life that does not end happily not worth living? Is it just the end that matters and not the memories in between?”

He fell silent, his eyes becoming glassy with fatigue.

Nahida placed her hand on his forehead again, “That is a question for another time. Focus on resting for today.”

Too tired to even retaliate, he complied, “Alright.”

She shifted and reached out for the blanket and draped it over his body, hoping that it would embrace him comfortably in his sleep.

“I don’t need that.” It was not sharp and dismissive but just stating a fact.

“Yes, but doesn’t having one feel comforting?” Her smile was soft and tender, “Even puppets need blankets too.”

“...I guess.”

“Now get some more sleep. I will still be here when you wake.”

Amidst the endless darkness,

I will be a star,

Lighting the way for you.

But someday, I hope you find a way to reignite your own light,

So that you too can be a star,

Shining amidst the night sky.

So that you too,

Can shine a light for others.

#genshin wanderer #genshin scaramouche #genshin nahida #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #nahida takes care of scaramouche #nahida therapy #nahida's hug theraphy

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gaily-daily-musings · 7 months

Text

It's not Christmas yet but what the heck

(Hallmark obikin au where we wonder what happens when the female protagonist dumps her fiance at the end of the movie to be with her childhood boyfriend)

The flight had been delayed. Because of course it had. Why wouldn't there be delays in a small ass town in the middle of bum fuck nowhere?

Anakin slumps in his seat. It's uncomfortable as shit and he needed to pee but God forbid he give it up. The lady across him has been eyeing him for the past hour and he'd die before letting her have it. All the other chairs and benches have been taken. He doesn't care how much she wants it, he deserves to sit in a stupid, horrible chair after the past few days.

Who dumps someone on Christmas eve? Who does that?? Anakin had only wanted to surprise Padme. He'd taken off work to fly out to her old hometown. Yet when he gets there she's apparently been hanging out with her ex and now she doesn't even want to get married?! His head is still spinning from it all.

He feels like he's been through the week from hell. At least he didn't have to work tomorrow. He could just focus on drowning all his sorrows away.

He shifts uncomfortably, his bladder pressing against him. He's not sure how much longer he can last without needing to relieve himself. He's read somewhere that holding it in too long was bad for you. Oh god, was he about to give himself a UTI? Wouldn't that be the fucking cherry on top?

Just as Anakin is about to get up and let the demon woman steal his seat, a gentleman walks by. He looks rather dejected. A forlorn look adorns his face. His coat was hanging off his shoulders and it looked like he'd missed a button or two on his shirt while getting dressed.

"Hey buddy?" Anakin calls out.

The man stops and looks up.

"Would you mind holding my seat? I gotta pee and I don't want anyone else taking it."

The man might just as well keep the chair for himself. But Anakin is willing to take his chances with this newcomer than the Karen over there. Fellow bros gotta stick together and all that. At least he hopes.

"Oh, uh, yes alright."

The British accent tingles delightfully through his ears. Anakin shakes the feeling off. Perhaps he was more lonely than he thought.

"Thanks! I'll only be a minute!"

He rushes off to the bathroom as the British man sits down. Or, more like he crumples into the seat. His shoulders slump even more than before. God he looked like someone had just died. Part of him feels horrible for thinking it, but Anakin was kind of glad he wasn't the only one having a bad day.

After he pees, Anakin checks himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn't look as bad as the British man, but he did look as irritable as he felt. His hair was uncombed and his mouth seemed to be in a perpetual scowl. He's sure the unbearable sadness will set in at any moment. But mostly he's still in shock. Still angry and confused.

He comes back out and thanks the man. The man makes to get up and leave but Anakin stops him with a hand.

"Actually–" he cannot believe he's about to do this. "You can have it. You look like you're having an even rougher go than me."

The airport was packed even if it was a small town. Or perhaps because of it. Either way it was every man for himself out there.

"Thank you. That's very kind."

Anakin shrugs. "Tis the season."

The man gives a half hearted smile. Anakin is about to grab his luggage and go find a bar when the man stops him.

"What did you mean before?" He asks. "You said I looked like I was having a tougher day than you."

The man is a total stranger. Anakin isn't normally in the business of airing out his laundry but it's not like there was much else to do right now. Plus the guy asked, so what was the harm? Still, Anakin hesitates.

"It's uh, it's a pretty crazy story actually."

"I've got time. My flight doesn't leave for another two hours."

Anakin nods. "Yeah good luck with that. They delayed mine twice already. I think they're just putting off the inevitable before announcing it's canceled."

The man winces. "Goodness, you think we might be here all night?"

"It's a possibility. The weather isn't looking too good right now. But that's what happens when you travel during December I guess."

The man hums. "Yes, quite right."

They grow quiet again.

"Sooo," Anakin starts, "How'd you end up here anyway?"

The man looks even sadder if that was even possible. Anakin is suddenly sorry he asked. He quickly backtracks. For some reason he didn't like seeing this stranger so upset. His face looked like one that was built for laughing.

"I came to surprise my fiance." Anakin blurts out. The man looks up. "I took a week off to come visit her. She's in town because she grew up here and she's visiting relatives."

"Oh, that sounds lovely."

"She dumped me this morning. Apparently she met up with her childhood crush and they hit it off."

The man pales. "Goodness that's…I'm so sorry."

Anakin rubs his face. "Yeah it's–well yeah."

The man waits a moment. The awkwardness stretches. Then a chuckle. It's so small Anakin almost doesn't catch it. He blinks. There it was again. Another little laugh.

That's what he got for pouring his heart out to a stranger.

"I apologize, I just," the man covers his mouth to smother his laughter. "I also came to surprise my fiance. She told me she wasn't in love with me anymore last night."

Anakin stares, floored to the spot.

"No shit?"

He winces. That didn't sound like a very appropriate response.

The man sighs and runs a hand through his auburn hair. It looked really thick. Like really nice hair.

"I'm sorry." Anakin tries again. Yes, much better response. "Guess this town is cursed, huh?"

The man laughs again and this time Anakin cannot help but join him. What a pair they made.

"Wait hold on, why was your fiance here? Did she grow up here too?"

God was <em>everyone</em> from this town?!

"No, she's not from here. Her Great Aunt recently died and she left Satine, my fiance, an old house in the will. Satine's always been charmed by small towns. She wanted to fix it up to be a Bed and Breakfast."

"Huh, that's…alright then."

Silence falls again. Anakin runs his foot over the airport carpet, not knowing what to say anymore.

"She actually, ah," the man clears his throat. "She was telling me about the local fudge shop her first day here. The owner there was charming. Too charming apparently."

Anakin's eyes widen. He'd seen that guy too. Losing his fiance to a childhood crush was one thing. Losing them to a complete stranger was another thing entirely.

"How long was she even in town for?"

"Five days," the man says.

Anakin inhales through his teeth. Damn that sucked.

"It wasn't actually as sudden as you'd believe." The man offers. "In truth our relationship has been in the rocks for months. We could never quite pick a date for the wedding. I suppose I was just in denial about it. I refused to see the signs."

Anakin feels like patting the man's shoulder but he's not sure how well the older man would take it. Brits were weird about contact. At least he thinks? He read that somewhere probably.

Anakin wonders what the signs had been in his own relationship. He can't recall any. Was he really that blind? Had Padme been unhappy and searching for a way to tell him?

The man sighs deeply. "This trip was supposed to bring us closer together. Not further apart."

"Cursed, I tell you," Anakin says. "I mean, my fiance was only here for like a week before I came to surprise her. Who falls in love in a week?"

"I know right?!"

Overhead there is an announcement of another delay. The man groans.

"Lemme guess, that one was yours?"

"Unfortunately." Then he mumbles to himself. "I didn't want to stay here a minute more."

Tell him about it. Anakin wants as far away from this place as possible. But it looked like they would need to find lodging after all.

"Don't think I can get my room back at the airbnb." Anakin muses aloud. "Tomorrow's Christmas. Everyone's booked."

The man hums. "I could probably call the hotel and get my room back." He looks up at Anakin. "If you're willing to spend Christmas with a sad old man, you're welcome to come with me."

Anakin's lips quirk up into a smile. "That doesn't sound so bad. Got any liquor?"

"We'll pick some up on the way."

Anakin is already grabbing his luggage. "Lead the way then. I'm Anakin by the way."

The man smiles. Damn, he really did look good like that. Blue eyes sparkling and shit.

"Obi-Wan," he says. "Pleased to meet you."

There was only one bed. In hindsight it made sense, it was supposed to be Obi-Wan and his fiance staying here. But the couch was a pull-out so they're fine as far as sleeping arrangements go.

They break out the alcohol the second they get through the door. Anakin turns on the TV to a bad Christmas movie and they take turns poking fun at it. Midnight rolls around sooner than either of them realize. They toast to an odd friendship.

"May we never, ever come back to this town!"

Their glasses clink together.

"I'll drink to that, my friend."

Anakin didn't get drunk very often, but he thinks he can make an exception. Obi-Wan seemed like the business upstanding type of guy that only indulged in red wine. Seemed they were both doing things they normally didn't do.

Slowly but surely Anakin feels himself getting drunker. His body buzzes pleasantly and his mouth goes numb. Sometime around 3 am he starts talking about Padme. Who better to unload upon than a fellow man in a similar situation?

"I just…just UGH! I hope she has a million children and they–they all end up staying here and never doing anything great with their lives and just living here in the middle of–the middle of nowhere and she's just trapped in a hell of her own making!" Anakin hiccups. "AND that she never gets to leave this town again ever! Not even to travel! She's just trapped forever!"

"Me too!" Obi-Wan slurs. "I hope Satine gets fat on fudge!"

He giggles then. It's pure and high pitched. It makes Anakin laugh too.

He'll regret trash talking Padme in the morning. But for now, he doesn't care.

"That's it. I'm swearing off women. Just dicks from now on."

Obi-Wan lets out a guffaw. Then he hiccups halfway through. It's cute as shit. Has anyone ever told him he was cute? Did Satine used to tell him? Someone needed to let this man know right now.

"I think you're onto something, my good man." Obi-Wan's accent lifts into a caricature of itself. He takes a sip of his empty glass. "No more women!"

The night blurs even more. The hours bleed into one another and soon all turns black.

Anakin blinks his eyes and raises his head. He's on the bed, Obi-Wan snoring beside him. Huh, they must have passed out at some point. Through the window blinds he can see daylight peeking in.

He looks over at the couch. He should probably move. Let Obi-Wan have the bed back. He looks back down. Their arms were entangled. At some point during the night Obi-Wan had reached out and threaded their hands together. Anakin's heart squeezes. He looked so adorable like this. Anakin lays back down and closes his eyes, breathing the other man in. The loss of Padme hurt less like this. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He wonders how long they would be stuck in town for. He wonders when the storm will pass. And whether or not the town's strange Christmas magic would work one last matchmaking miracle.

#hallmark au #yes this is the SECOND time ive done this #obikin fic #Because they both have no where to be #they end up staying for another week for the heck of it #Might as well right?#At some point they go by the fudge shop to bad mouth the fudge and how horrible it is #but then they actually eat some and by God it's the most delicious thing they've ever eaten?!?#Anakin starts wondering whether he's in danger of falling in love with the chocolatier too #They get dinner and are surprised to see BOTH Padme and Satine on dates there #(There's no where else in town to eat okay?)#Padme's childhood friend/new boyfriend makes the suggestion to bring their tables together #Que the world's most awkward triple date #Despite it all #everyone ends up having a good time #As the drinks start flowing Obi-Wan and Anakin start making googly eyes at each other #Obi-Wan forgets Satine is even there like twice #Padme becomes the world's most confused wingman #She broke this boy's heart and he moved on so quickly?#Like insultingly quickly?#But whatever he seems happy so she'll give him a hand

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