Hex Haywire x GN!Reader; Angst; inspired by Junebride VP line
And I will always, always, be here for you.
His own voice echoed in his mind, a soft smile gracing his features. It had been such a happy day, a day filled with memories he held dear. Memories of your stunning visage in white, memories of your delighted smile and blush, memories of when he could finally hold you in his arms knowing that you would be partners for life.
You, of course, had vowed to do the same. It was a vow you both held sacred. A vow neither of you ever thought to break. A vow that you were always able to keep.
Through the good times and the bad, he was by your side, and you by his. During those years, those happy, golden years, the treacherous journey they called life had been more bearable. Less treacherous and more joyful.
Until now.
Sadness crept into the corners of his smile as he opened his eyes, his gloved hand brushing upon the tombstone in front of him. The tombstone engraved with your name, with words that held special meaning for the two of you beneath it.
A part of him was glad that you had gone first. It meant that he had kept his vow until the end. It also meant you would never feel the pain that he felt now.
The pain that outweighed all the pain he had felt before.
The pain that would outweigh any pain he felt in the future.
The pain that would forever remind him of his vow.
The light in the fridge hasn't worked for about a week now, and the only way you're going to get at it is to clear out what's in the damn thing. As you ready your trusty BLACK-AS-MIDNIGHT BINBAG stick your head in there, you smell a faint aroma of soured milk and opened beer, along with something undefined but definitely past its use-by date.
(moar belowwww)
DD: Start throwing spoiled food out.
You idly pick out and tosss the myriad banana-flavored pots of FROMAGE FRAIS scattered through the fridge directly into the trash. Some of them are dated up to eight months back - their existence in the fridge can be pinned on Deuce and Boxcars both refusing to eat banana yoghurt, no matter how sickeningly cute the mascots on the packaging are. Second to get binned is a shifty-looking and funny-smelling half-finished pack of DELI MEAT. You're pretty sure it smelled like that from the start, though, which might go towards explaining why you or Slick never finished it off.
Third to go are a number of EMPTY LIQUOR BOTTLES. Slick shouts across the room to make sure they're empty before tossing them. One of them is only mostly empty, but you decide you need booze to do this and finish it off before shoving the bottle in the trash with the rest of them. Your IMAGINATION gauge would gain a slight boost if IMAGINATION gauges weren't for weedy, punchable detectives.
You note with some annoyance that your beloved MAYONNAISE JAR is empty too. You toss that in with the rest, and make a mental note to replace it as soon as possible. You'll break into Felt Mansion and steal theirs if you have to.
This leaves a couple of still-good pots of apricot-strawberry-raspberry-whatthefuckever FROMAGE FRAIS, a couple of mostly-full bottles of various alcohols, and the still-very-fresh SEVERED ARM from the Hatchet Gang informant earlier on. You now have enough room to change out the LIGHTBULB.
Hang on, and the vegetable crisper still needs cleared. Might as well get that over and done with too!...
.....Wait.
Oh. Oh fuck. There's something liquifying down there. Better go get the gloves on.
DD: Quickly retrieve rubber gloves from sink.
You snap on your faithful LACKADAISIES. They've spared your CUFFLINKS many an undignified soaking when Slick threatens you enough to do the washing-up. You almost feel bad for subjecting such faithful suit protectors to the sludgy parts of the fridge.
Just for good measure, you pick up a CLEANING CLOTH as well. Might as well be thorough.
DD: Get back in there.
It isn't quite as bad as you thought, but... yeah, that's a banana. Or it was a banana. You don't think it can be called a banana any more.
You also clear out the withered and sludgy remains of some SPRING ONIONS, a couple mushrooms that seem to have sprouted fungus of their own and a couple of mouldering TOMATOES. And a mushy cucumber... Why the fuck does anyone bring fresh produce into this hideout? It never gets eaten.
Actually, you have a pretty good idea who did it. You cast a surly glare over at Deuce, foreshadowing the newspaper-related thrashing he will cop if you ever catch him doing it again.
Wait, is that....
==>
Oh fuck yes.
You retrieve ONE (1) SACHET OF MAYONNAISE from the plant matter slurry at the bottom of the fridge.
This more than makes up for the rancid tomato-onion-mushroom-banana-cucumber goo. You'll have to wash it off before putting your mouth to it, though.
DD: Rinse off gloves, mayo sachet, then consume spoils.
You carefully clean off your buried treasure in the sink. The stench from what you just cleaned from the fridge has wafted over to the rest of the kitchen, resulting in your comrades kicking up a stink of their own.
They can just goddamn deal with the smell for now. You have more important things to do.
DD: ÄTA DEN LÄCKRA MAJONNÄS!!!!!
Don't need to tell you twice. You bite the top off of that little fucker and suck it down like the nectar of the Norse gods.
MMMM. IT'S GOOD FOR Y...
Huh. Tastes kinda... sour.
Oh.
OH SHIT.
WHAT WAS THE USE-BY DATE ON THAT THING???
THIS WASN'T GOOD FOR YOU AT ALL!!
DD: Give sacrifice to the porcelain god.
You don't presently know or care what the hell that means right now. All you care about is voiding your stomach contents to somewhere that isn't all over your suit.
You'd ask the rest of the Crew for help, but they appear to be holding back laughter. You'll have the last laugh, you swear to yourself. Right after you're done expelling ancient mayonnaise, the booze you snuck earlier, 37 SWEDISH FISH, and anything else in your stomach from your face hole.
Nanoseconds before your gag reflex fails you, Slick steps forth - laughing his ass off as he does - knocks off your hat, grabs a fistful of your TIE so you don't throw up over it, and shoves your head directly into the BINBAG you were using. The green tide cometh, and there is no stopping it. But at least you won't be mopping up your own puke as well today.
You can already hear the gears in Slick's head turning as he thinks of a way to take the piss out of you for this. Wait for it.... Wait for it...
==>
"Looks like that mayonnaise has...
...CAUSED YOUR MALAISE."
You make sure to make an extra loud retching sound at this. It's like he tailors these remarks to be as shitty as possible or something.
