#contemplating suicide trigger warning

[novy2sirius]

MOON HOUSE CORE © novy2sirius

trigger warning: suicide, violence, eating, hypochondria, trauma, mental health issues ♡

this is just a random post abt things ppl with these placements could experience ♡

these r only abt isolated placements so take it with a grain of salt bc the whole chart matters ♡

a lot of these r experiences i’ve heard from my friends and ppl who’ve purchased readings from me directly ♡

moon in 1h core

not being able to hide ur emotions bc they’re literally evident on ur face, youthful beauty, constantly changing ur outlook on life depending on how u feel at the time, getting told u look young for ur age, getting mad bc boys/girls call u cute instead of hot, mothering everyone, likes to be pampered and babied, throws child-like fits if lower vibrational, being a lot like ur mom even tho sometimes u don’t wanna admit it, even if ur a boy having emotional responses like a teenage girl, growing up with parents that had anger issues so now u have anger issues, being asked if ur sad all the time by ppl when ur not even sad it’s just ur resting face, having a comforting aura, ur mood instantly being ruined the moment anything makes u insecure at all, looking good in light blue and white outfits

moon in 2h core

having a cute voice, wanting to spend all ur money bc u had a bad day and r emotional, eating bc u’re emotional af, ur comfort place being a restaurant/fast food spot, having a wife who brings lots of stability to ur life, having a good singing voice, feeling emotionally connected to inanimate objects such as ur stuffed animal, not feeling happy around ppl who bring instability to ur life, spending all ur money on things related to music/food, love language is gift giving and physical touch, not feeling loved by ur partner when they don’t hug u every second, feeling more comfortable around ppl who share the same values as u, only having a good work ethic when ur happy, caring abt ppl more when they spoil u with gifts

moon in 3h core

being extremely charming and able to persuade others easily, having a rly soft voice and being told u sound like a child, being scared to do anything when ur sibling/a companion doesn’t come with u, feeling more emotionally connected to ppl u share similar opinions/interests with, being more talkative around ppl when ur comfortable and quiet around random ppl, posting emo stuff on social media when u were in middle school, having a lot of the same interests as ur mom, being close with ur neighbors growing up and riding bikes with them around the neighborhood and selling lemonade on the side of the road, being obsessed with romance books

moon in 4h core

playing house a lot as a kid, either being rly close with ur mom or having extreme mommy issues, being obsessed with self care related things and not being able to go to sleep without doing ur skin care routine, being emotional just by existing, coming off as emotional even when ur not emotional, feeling deep emotion for ppl and feeling attached to them and then realizing that they don’t feel the same way bc u’ve literally only talked for a week and u just have a problem with getting attached to ppl easily, feeling most comfortable with people that make u feel feminine, being a talented nurse or realtor, having a very nurturing aura

moon in 5h core

having a lot of hobbies that don’t involve leaving ur house, being hot, ppl always telling u that u have celebrity/star vibes, having a bunch of creative ideas but being afraid to share them bc ur shy, being insanely dramatic and then later regretting it heavily, being a good actor, contemplating killing urself every time u got grounded as a kid bc ur dramatic, feeling happiest when ur by the ocean or water, being a hopeless romantic, falling in love w cancer placements but wishing u didn’t, loving mango/citrus flavored foods/drinks, being scared of violent video games and wanting to play sims or minecraft instead, being rly good with kids/kids naturally loving u, growing up with egotistical parents, rewatching the same films/shows over and over bc they bring u comfort

moon in 6h core

being able to tell how someone rly feels even when they try and hide it bc u can analyze ppl rly well, loves animals and feels better when they have an emotional support pet, love language is acts of service and gift giving, having rly bad anxiety any time u leave the house (and in general) these ppl r huge homebodies, being a hypochondriac and thinking ur gonna die every time u have a single bad physical health symptom and googling ur symptoms then becoming even more worried bc google says ur abt to have a heart attack, chronic overthinker

moon in 7h core

being rly charming and having a lot of secret admirers, being scared to come outside ur comfort zone without a companion/partner with u, being fruity af, making ur friends/lovers order food for u bc ur too shy to, wanting harmony/peace and hating when someone argues with u or tries to start conflict with u but unfortunately still managing to attract lots of enemies even when u try to avoid drama, being able to negotiate with others easily, trying to be nice to ppl and killing them with kindness and u still end up getting hurt, being attractive to society but insecure abt ur looks, feeling sad if u don’t look pretty at all times, moving to live near ur bf/gf bc ur too attached to be in a long distance relationship, hates hookup culture

moon in 8h core

being sexualized a lot, ppl randomly confiding in u abt their traumas when u didn’t even bring anything abt it up, not being able to hookup bc you’ll get too attached, having a lot of family trauma that has now affected u emotionally and made u rly defensive any time someone talks to u in a slightly off tone, being a witch, doing love spells on ur crush so they’ll like u, having dark humor, feeling like u wanna die on ur period and going insane and acting like another person and then when u go off it realizing how dramatic u were, getting a boob job, being sent d*ck/p*ssy pics a lot without even asking for them, getting inheritance from ur family, getting surgery when u were young, spiritually transforming the most when ur alone

moon in 9h core

wanting to leave ur home country and never come back, trying to run away as a kid and packing a bag then coming back bc ur scared after only getting half way down ur street, adapting to ur surroundings quickly and easily being influenced by others, having a closer connection with ur grandparents than ur actual parents, having good ethics and not vibing with ppl around u who don’t, having ur first romantic relationship in college, feeling more comfortable around cultures outside of ur own or feeling more emotionally connected to cultures outside of ur own, cutting out ppl quickly when they’re negative and when they don’t support ur plans in life, having a thing for athletic boys/girls

moon in 10h core

having a star-like quality, finding comfort in being a workhorse and working all the time and using it as a way to distract urself from all ur problems in life, feeling like life is meaningless if ur not constantly going out and doing things, trying to keep things private but they end up getting out anyway, having a reputation of being a softie, feeling closer to ur dad than ur mom or having extreme daddy issues no in between, leaving behind a legacy that inspires others and touches them emotionally, being talented in careers that r an emotional outlet for u

moon in 11h core

having a very friendly aura and being able to socialize well but still sometimes having a low social battery at the same time, having a lot of influence on others and attracting a lot of ppl that r fans of u, being easily influenced and sometimes easily manipulated, having a lot of mood swings, being emotionally unpredictable, fearing being alone/dying alone and ppl abandoning u, being able to social network rly well, being closer to a step/half parent than a biological parent, throwing the best house parties, forming closer emotional connections online than in real life, being closer to ur online friends than in person friends, having a deep desire for someone to just care abt u and give u attention

moon in 12h core

having a lot of dreams that weirdly predict things almost perfectly, being obsessed with the feeling of nostalgia but also hating it at the same time, having an ethereal beauty, using astrology as a way to get an explanation for ur trauma so u can feel more validated, falling into a deep depression every time u run out of shows to watch, imagining fake scenarios in ur head abt rly bad things happening and crying over it when ur bored, looking like a mermaid/man, dwelling on the past a lot, being able to mask rly well and pretend ur someone ur not and doing it sm to fit in that u don’t even know who u r anymore, struggling with mental health issues ever since u were a child and feeling like u were sad even as a kid but not knowing why, hearing ppl talk randomly when ur abt to fall asleep but no one’s there, having a lot of hidden enemies that u may have had a close emotional connection with before that end up stabbing u in the back, feeling alone even when ur not alone

comment if u want more of these 🗣️

[kiirous]

Today I hit a new low.

Today I seriously contemplated committing suicide.

I found reasons not to.

Not directly anyway.

I walked in the middle of the street and hoped a car was fast enough to hit and kill me.

But since it was during working hours, nearly no cars were around. And if they were, they were too slow and could have stopped upon seeing me. So I went out of the way.

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

[norrizzandpia]

Call Your Mom (LN4)

Summary: Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, mentions/inferences/an attempt of suicide, mentions of alcohol, attempted overdose (lmk if I missed any <3)

Word Count: 4,090

Note: In this song, the artist says he’ll call the person he’s talking to’s mom, but in the imagine, I changed it to Lando calling the reader’s best friends. Also, at the end of the song, the artist talks about religion (specifically religions that believe in Jesus) so, as to not assume anyone’s religion, I just didn’t address that part of the lyric in the song. Happy reading 🧡

Oh, you're spiraling again. The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of but, don't you cancel any plans. 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

Opening the door, Lando clocked the quietness of his apartment, something he wasn't accustomed to ever since his girlfriend moved in with him. Slipping off his shoes and letting his duffel bag fall to the floor, he called out for her multiple times, but he was continually met with a loud silence.

"Y/n?" He said once more as he rounded the corner of the kitchen and made his way toward their bedroom.

If it hadn't been for the quiet, he wouldn't have heard her soft murmur, "In here."

'In here' sounded like the bedroom and his suspicions were proven true when he walked through the threshold to be met with her curled up in the duvet. Her face was towards him and, in a millisecond, he could tell she was struggling again.

Softly, he padded over to her before sitting down beside her and letting his hand come to stroke her cheek, "How was hanging out with Lily and Paige today?"

Shaking her head and turning over, Y/n told Lando she had canceled the plans and decided not to go. His disappointment was internal, something he wouldn't clue her in on because it would destroy her to know he was disappointed in her for something she can't control. Her depressive episodes were less frequent now, but they still came around every so often, and when they did, they were suffocating. After years, he had shown up enough to make her feel like he was her safe place, so when she slipped into the darkness of her mind, she didn't shut him out.

Taking off his shirt and pants, so he was only left in his boxers, he slipped under the covers and turned her around so she was facing him once again. Holding her head in his hands, he was quick to wipe away the tears under her eyes and splayed over her cheeks before kissing her nose, "I know it's hard right now, but this will pass. You will get through this one like you do the other ones. But, I'm right here with you if you ever feel like you need a hand to hold."

He seemed to get through to her as she smiled softly at him and stuffed her face into his neck. His hands circled around her as he felt her breathe in his cologne.

Tomorrow, he would call Paige and Lily, and tell them what was going on. If there were other people on the planet that could help Y/n out of the deep depths of her mind, it was her best friends.

The two girls who had been there long before he had.

—

Stayed on the line with you the entire night till you let it out and let it in. Don't let this darkness fool you. All lights turned off can be turned on. I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom.

These were the worst ones. The ones where he couldn't be there because he was in another country. These were the ones he feared the most.

Her sobbing on the other side of the phone broke his heart further as he contemplated packing up all his stuff and pulling out of the race that was just two days away. His team would be furious with him, but, at this point, he couldn't care. All he cared about was getting to her and calming the ever-flowing, horrible thoughts.

"I know you always say I get through these and I come out on the other side, but I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore." She cried again. Her words terrified Lando like he could never explain. If she was insinuating what he thought, then pulling out of the race wouldn't be so bad. However, he didn't want to ask her because the idea of putting that in her head and having her dwell on that course of action without him was haunting.

"Remember what we always say? All lights turned off can be turned on? Y/n, that's what you are. You're a light to everyone around you. To me, to Paige and Lily, to your family, to anyone who has the privilege of meeting you, you're a bright, bright light. Just hang on for me, darling. Please. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me." He pleaded with her as he texted quickly with Paige and Lily. The two friends were the only ones in close vicinity with Y/n and the minute he had texted them, letting each of them know she needed help, they were texting him not even a second later that they were on their way.

"Okay." It was faint, but it was there. On the other end of the line, he heard doors opening and closing along with the soft chatter of two voices he recognized immediately.

"Did you call Paige and Lily?" His girlfriend asked as the voices grew louder.

"Of course." He responded quickly.

Y/n was silent for a moment before she took in a breath, "Thank you."

Even with her muffled tone, he could hear the small smile, "Anytime, angel. I'm always here to help you."

Y/n must've forgotten to hang up the phone because he was able to hear their bedroom door open and close along with Paige's booming voice, "Hey, babe. We brought wine and romance novels. Ready to find the craziest smut and laugh at it?"

Lando smiled to himself. The three girls had been a tight-knit group since high school and had been obsessed with getting together to find into each other's delusions. He was convinced that he never laughed harder when he was included in their girl talks because they would say and do the most outrageous things. He had never met three people who would genuinely do anything for each other, whether that was murder or ordering food because the other two were too nervous to do it themselves.

The conversation continued as he heard Paige and Lily plop down onto the bed, "Was that Lando?" Lily asked.

He could see Y/n's nod in his head, "Yeah, he was just talking with me. You know, being the disgustingly perfect human being he is."

Paige groaned, "Ugh, he really is disgusting. He's like those book boyfriends we used to obsess over when we were in high school. I mean, seriously Y/n, he's perfect. I was genuinely worried when you said you were dating an F1 driver because most of those guys are just players, but I think he's the one for you."

Lando's smile intensified as he heard Paige's truthful opinion of him. When they first got together, he knew impressing her best friends was of utmost importance. If he didn't get their stamp of approval, he was done for. So he had gotten flowers for each of them and had paid for the entire lunch they had. Lily was easy to win over with that lunch, but Paige had twisted his gestures in a way that made him seem shallow. His flowers were over-the-top and obvious, and paying for lunch was flaunting his money. It had taken a few months to get through to the girl, but after a lengthy conversation where it became apparent to him how protective she was over Y/n, Lando assured her he would protect her just the same.

Y/n's laughing brought Lando back to the conversation he was eavesdropping on, "How does that position even work?"

Clearly he had zoned out long enough to not notice the transition from the topic of him to dirty romance novels, but he didn't really care because Y/n was laughing and that was good.

That was really, really good.

—

Waiting room, no place to stand. Just greatest fears, and wringing hands and the loudest silence.

He didn't know how it got to that point, to be completely honest. One moment, he had gotten off the phone with her and the next he was getting a call from Paige, who was in a clear fit of distress as she spit out she had gotten an alarming text from Y/n that sounded too much like a goodbye. In fear, Lando stood up abruptly in his meeting and ran out, telling everyone he had a family emergency. He had probably broken multiple laws as he sped through intersections and school zones to get to her. His car hadn't even fully stopped before he was flying out of it and shoving open the door to their apartment. He didn't clock the silence this time because all he could hear was the shower and the steady stream of water.

The door was locked as he tried to get in and he began banging on the door, yelling for Y/n to come out. Tears flooded his vision as he pleaded with her to open the door or at least give him some confirmation she was okay, but nothing came. All he could hear was the sick and twisted sound of water hitting tile flooring. It didn't take his mind more than two seconds to come to the conclusion he would have to break the door down and when he did, he was met with Y/n and a bottle of pills in her hand.

She seemed coherent which was a good sign, but Lando saw the tears flying down her face as she stared at the bottle. He was quick to kneel down before her and gently take the bottle of her hands, "Did you take them?" He asked assertively.

When she didn't answer, he asked more forcefully, "Y/n, did you take them?"

She shook her head 'no' and Lando let out a strangled sob.

"Y/n, baby, you need help. You need to get on medication and see a therapist. It will help you, I promise. Please, just-" He took a breath to try and calm down, "Just let me get you the help you need."

So, that's how he found himself in the dim waiting room of the hospital with clammy palms and a loud mind.

"Lando." Paige's voice appeared from behind him and as he turned around, he saw her tear-stained cheeks.

"She was about to do it when I got there. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, she-" Lando's tears cut him off as his head fell into his hands and he broke down once more. He didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't gotten there as soon as he did.

Paige's hand on his back reminded him that she was Y/n's best friend and was probably going through the same emotions. Letting his head turn so he could meet her gaze, he asked, "How are you? Is Lily coming?"

Paige sighed, "I'm as good as I can be in this kind of situation and Lily's on her way, but she won't be here for a few hours. She was on a business trip when it happened."

He nodded as he sat back, shrugging off Paige's hand that he wished was Y/n's. The two sat next to each other as they stared off into the distance, leaving words unsaid as they waited to hear what was going on with Y/n's psych evaluation.

If you could see yourself like this, if you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it.

As he stared down at his lock screen, he reminisced on an easier time. The picture was of the two at his parent's house when he got the call that he would be in F1. They were sitting next to each other at the dining room table, their faces lit up with smiles as they looked at each other. Y/n's hands were up in the air, seconds from wrapping him in a hug, and his were already on her, two arms around her waist. It was a split-second moment only picked up on by the video his mom had been taking at the time, but he liked this photo more than the one of the them actually hugging because it seemed more genuine. A quick moment that was just them and her happiness for him.

She had seen the photo multiple times, but Lando didn't think she had really seen it. He didn't think she had actually took note of how beautiful her smile looked or how pretty her eyes sparkled or the way he looked at her or how, in that moment, he wasn't looking at his phone which had just told him his lifelong dream was coming true, but at the girl who had been his true dream all along. He wondered if he had shown her all these small things maybe she wouldn't have gotten to this point, to the point where she wanted to end it all. His mind wandered to places where this was his fault, where he should have tried harder to show her how loved she was.

However, before he could spiral deeper, the sight of her doctor approaching them made him stand up and forget about everything else, but her.

"How is she?" He immediately asked as Paige and Lily stood up beside him. Lily had gotten there about an hour before, rambling on about how sorry she was that she couldn't be there sooner.

"She's doing better, however, it is my professional opinion that she stays here for a few more days before she goes home. I would like to put her on antidepressants and give her the information for a therapist I think could really help her. Are you her husband?" The doctor spoke.

Lando shook his head, "No, just her boyfriend."

The doctor nodded, "Okay, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about how long this has been going on and such." His gaze shifted to the two girls standing beside Lando, "Are you her friends?"

The two nodded, "Okay, she's been asking for you. Paige and Lily, is it? You can visit her if you'd like."

Before he knew it, Paige and Lily were leaving his side to go tend to the girl that was more their sister than their friend.

Leaving just him and the doctor, the questions began, "How long has she been struggling this way?"

"Well, she's always struggled with depression, but it's gotten worse over the past year. Her episodes haven't been as often, but they're worse when they come now." Lando answered just as the doctor began nodding.

Down the hall, Paige and Lily were lying on each side of Y/n's hospital bed.

"Why, Y/n?" Paige asked from her squished position.

Y/n shook her head, "I don't know. I just- I got off the phone with Lando and something just snapped in me. I've burdened all of you with my problems for so long, I couldn't do it anymore. I can't imagine how sick Lando must be of having to be at my beck and call every two seconds. I'm just done forcing you guys to be there for me."

Paige and Lily eyed each other from over their friend's head, "Y/n," Lily began, "you are not burdening anyone with your problems. You've never ever been doing that. We show up for you because we want to, not because we have to. You've been Paige and I's family for so long, of course we're going to want to be there for you when you're struggling. And Lando? Lando was out there crying into his hands because he thinks this is his fault, that he didn't try as hard as he could. None of us feel forced by you to be there for you. That's never been the case. We love you, so we're going to show up no matter what."

By the end of it, all three girls were crying and Paige decided this would be a good time to hug each of them. Extending her arms out so they could reach over to Lily and squish Y/n in the middle, she squeezed both of them. With soft giggling and small smiles, Lily and Y/n both wrapped their arms around the other two. It was a quiet moment as they hugged, letting the gesture speak for itself, before the door to the room was opening and Lando was coming in.

Lily and Paige took that as their cue to go get some snacks from the cafeteria as Lando sat in the chair beside the bed, taking her hand in his.

Small tears began to flow down his face at her breathing form, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Y/n wiped his tears away with the hand that wasn't caged by him and whispered, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Lando's glossy eyes looked up at her, "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I love you and anything you go through is something I want to help you through. At the end of the day, I'm just glad I get to tell you 'I love you' again."

Her own tears began to flow at his sweet words and as he squeezed her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles, she realized her light might just be turning on again.

—

Medicate, meditate, save yourself for Jesus, throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

With the medication and therapy sessions, Y/n was finally finding her way back to herself. She was beginning to find recovery fun as her, Paige, Lily, and Lando all had Saturdays where they would go out and do yoga and meditate together. At first, when all three of them presented the idea to her, she thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but after the first session, she fell in love with it. Whether it was the laughs they shared as Lando made weird noises during the quietness of their meditation or the realization that she could get lost in her mind without falling into a deep, dark void, she fell in love with those Saturdays.

Sure, recovery was also hard, but she was learning to fight and throw punches at the dark memories and thoughts that would pass her brain.

It was nice to see Lando realizing he was getting her back too. She could see it in the way his eyes shimmered when she would crack a joke or finally fulfill plans without canceling them. She didn't realize it when she was going through it, but, in the midst of her depression, Lando had been watching his favorite person get lost in themselves and he couldn't do anything. She couldn't imagine the sort of pain he must've had to push aside, so he could help her, and after multiple tearful conversations about it, Lando had hugged Y/n and told her he would never be mad at her for struggling and needing help.

It was like her whole world had been in black and white, and now, it was full of color. She could genuinely smile at the crazy paragraphs they would find in romance novels on their wine-filled nights, and laugh at the two girls planning her imaginary wedding to her boyfriend.

After it all, Paige had had a conversation with Lando that Y/n wasn't aware of, well, not yet that is. She had asked Lando if he saw Y/n in his future and when he had dug into his pocket to pull out a box that held a large, shimmery ring, she smiled giddily. They both knew a proposal was something that would have to happen a little later because Y/n needed time to fully get back to herself before her life was changing again, but they knew it was inevitable.

Lando would be asking Y/n to marry him, one way or another.

—

I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom. I'll call your mom.

As he was driving, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. After a year or two of recovering, Y/n was finally herself again and when Paige had texted Lando, telling him Y/n had just admitted she would say yes to Lando if he asked her to marry him over wine, he stopped what he was doing in his meeting and said he had to go. He couldn't wait any longer.

He needed to ask her to marry him.

The drive was way too long for his liking and as he flew out of his car before it even stopped, he got deja vu. The last time he was pulling up to their house this way, it had been for an entirely different, horrific reason. But, now, the only reason why he would stay up on the phone with her was because he never wanted to stop talking, because they could finally put aside the pain of it all and just be in love. He almost cried on the spot because he had an overwhelming rush of pride for his girl and how strong she had been to fight so hard and come out on the other side. Due to her not giving up, he had the privilege of asking her to marry him.

Walking through the door, the quick and loud chattering came to an abrupt stop. It was quiet for a moment before Y/n's voice called out to him, "Lando?"

He smiled, "Yes, baby?"

There was a clatter of glasses on their coffee table and feet hitting the hardwood floor before she was appearing around the corner in all his radiance.

"What are you doing home so early?" She asked as her eyebrows furrowed.

He pulled her into him, giving her a light kiss on her lips before smiling mischievously at her, "Why? You got another man in there?" He joked with her.

She laughed, "No, you know I would never do that, dumbass."

As they entered the dining room, being met with Paige's and Lily's smiling faces at the happy couple, they sat down on the couch as Lando eyed the half empty bottle of wine. Paige had an inkling about what he was going to do considering she sent the text and was met with his telling her he was on his way.

"So, why are you here so early?" Y/n asked as his arm laid over her shoulders and she snuggled further into him.

Lando sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous, "I needed to ask you a question."

Y/n's brows furrowed, "Oh? What's up?"

"Marry me?" He said immediately as he pulled out the box he had been carrying around for years.

Y/n's mouth fell open as her eyes began to glisten with tears and she met the gaze of her best friends, glad they were here to share this moment with her.

"My love, I have loved you for years and we've been through hell and back together. When we were finally able to rest, I realized that there is no one else in this world that I would rather go through hell and back with. I fall in love with you every single day and your strength amazes me continuously. You deserve so much after everything you've been through and I'm asking if you'll let me be the man to give it all to you and more." He finished and took the ring out of the box, taking her hand in his and looking at her with his calming green eyes.

She smiled the biggest she ever had in the past few years, "Of course, Lando. Always."

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, Paige and Lily shot up from their seated positions on the floor and started shrieking with excitement, hugging each other and jumping up and down. As the couple kissed softly, their yelling intensified.

And as Y/n continued smiling at Lando, she looked around the room only to find a small family that had done everything they could to keep her alive.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • I

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 4.7K

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter One: The Apparition - (EDITED 09-03-2024) This story was a request by an anon! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the prompt (prompt is here). I am excited to see where this goes! Let me know any thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged leave a comment :3

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy in this lifetime.

Maybe someday, in another universe, there would be a possibility for me.

But for now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead.

Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo desperately pulled at my wrist in an attempt to drag me away. My arm remained still, held in its position, resisting his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart raced, yet I couldn’t move.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leathered finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat as the woman's eyes turned away in fear; as if watching her demise would kill her.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is this who I am?

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door as forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rearview mirror, and I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

The van sped through the city's veins, a blur of neon and shadows. I felt Ruffilo's eyes digging into me, a mix of disappointment and concern as he watched my tapping fingers against the plastic of the car door. Another fuck up added to the list.

The silence in the vehicle was deafening, broken only by the occasional honk of a distant car or the screech of tires against wet asphalt.

"We need to lay low for a while," Jolly's voice cut through the tension. "I know a place on the outskirts we can hang out at ‘till everything cools down. It’s not pretty, but it'll do."

I nodded absent-mindedly, my thoughts still with the woman we'd left behind. Her terrified eyes haunted me, a stark reminder of the monster I was becoming. Or perhaps had always been.

As we drove further from the city center, the buildings grew more dilapidated, the streets emptier. The grey world outside mirrored the turmoil that had taken over my thoughts, reminding me of the emptiness that seemed to follow me everywhere.

+++++

Y/N

I tied the grey apron around my waist and punched in for my shift. With my hair pulled back into a low bun, I tucked away any stray strands of my bangs. Another day at work, feeling like it was all just slipping away, lost to the endless cycle of capitalism.

Overall, I enjoyed my new job working in the coffee shop. The city was busy, something I wasn’t used to, but the cafe was a comforting environment filled with tasty pastries, and an unlimited amount of caffeine to fulfill any heart's desire.

I sighed as I checked on the coffee pots, organizing them before nearly lining the glass display with more cakes and croissants. Stocking up the cups and lids, I hummed to myself, letting my mind wander into my corporate daydream distractions.

Why are you never real?

Whenever you appear

You leave me with that grace

I am trembling with fear

But I know that you will disappear

“How’s it going Y/N?” My coworker asked, smiling, pulling me out of my trance.

Annika; I have grown quite fond of her, even though I’ve only known her a week.

“Good,” I smiled, pulling a sanitized cloth out of a bucket and wiping down the counters, “yourself?”

“Oh you know, same old same old.” She said, sighing with a sad smile. I matched her as we shared a moment of familiarity, before concentrating again on wiping the surface, the cold cloth running along the faux marble. 

The seating area was bustling with activity; friends catching up, students poring over their notes, and business meetings taking place. I loved observing the vibrant energy that each person brought into the space. A smile formed on my lips as I watched the familiar elderly couple, whom I had seen every morning this week, bid farewell.

I gave a nod to Lauren and Ray as I said goodbye, then made my way to the empty tables. I began wiping them down, ignoring the sound of the door ringing as more people entered. I hummed softly to myself, lost in thought. It had only been three weeks since I left my old life behind, and this was just the start of my newfound freedom.

So let's make trouble in the dream world

Hijack heaven with another memory now

I make the most of the turning tide

It just split what's left of the burning silence

“Sleep token?”

Suddenly, a man's voice interrupted my thoughts and I snapped out of my daze. My face heated up with embarrassment as I realized that Annika must have gone to assist another customer. I quickly apologized and avoided eye contact as I tossed the cloth into the bucket and rushed back to the register.

I glanced nervously at the buttons in front of me, mentally preparing to either hit to go or to stay, as I waited for the man's response. But when my eyes met his deep brown gaze, I was instantly lost in the intensity and mystery within them. My lips parted slightly as I stared at him, feeling a rush of infatuation that warmed my cheeks. His dark chocolate eyes were framed by long, tousled brunette hair that fell just below his collarbone. His arms and neck were adorned with colourful tattoos, giving him an alluring look. And when he smiled, it was almost enough to make my knees weak; the crinkles around his eyes and the lines of his smile were captivating.

However, there was something else lurking behind those intense eyes, and my mind couldn't help but want to uncover it.

He returned my gaze, his eyes carefully taking in every detail of my face. A light blush crept along his nose, making its way across to the top of his cheekbones.

"So, is it to go or to stay?" I stuttered, breaking eye contact and quickly looking away. I could feel the heat rising to my ears and I focused all of my attention on the counter in front of me; trying to act casual but feeling a wave of shyness wash over me as I glanced up at him.

"To go, please," he replied, and his voice was like music to my ears with its slight Virginian accent.

In all my years working in retail and serving, I had never been so captivated by a customer before. There was something about this stranger that intrigued me; a mystery waiting to be discovered. "Just a black coffee, please," he said slowly, almost as if he was unsure.

I let out a shy laugh, “Did you want cream or sugar? Or we have a variety of syrups-” I watched as he smiled, before shaking his head, eyes remaining fixated.

“No, black is fine,” he replied. Something about his gaze, like the colour of October leaves, drew me in and held my attention as time seemed to stand still. As if invisible strings were connecting us, pulling me towards his magnetic presence that I couldn't seem to resist.

“Alright then,” I nodded, feeling a bit flustered as I avoided his stare, “is that all for you?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, digging through his wallet before handing me a bill.

“Can I have your name?” I asked shyly, looking back at him and trying to read his face for any clues about who he really was. Sometimes a name can reveal more than words ever could.

“Noah,“ he said, giving a slight nod and tight smile.

“Noah,” I echoed.

I pivoted on my heel and made my way over to the coffee maker, picking up a cup and filling it with the warm liquid.

Annika slinked up beside me, lightly bumping into my arm. "That's Noah," she whispered, nodding towards him, "He used to come here all the time, but he hasn't been around lately. He's always in a gloomy mood."

I glanced at her, unsure of how to respond.

"And he usually takes his coffee with cream and sugar, so it's interesting to see him trying something new." Annika turned her head slightly, observing the boy for a moment before leaning in closer to me. "Maybe it's because he's so distracted by you that he forgot his usual order."

A tinge of warmth spread across my face as I dismissed the idea with a scoff, "Yeah, right." But out of curiosity, I couldn’t help but glance over at the brunette behind the counter. Just as I suspected, he was discreetly watching us but quickly looked away when our eyes met.

"You should give him your number," Annika whispered mischievously before walking away to assist another customer.

I chuckled softly as I closed the lid and slid a sleeve onto the cup. My hand hovered over the sharpie, wondering if I should do it.

I shook my head gently, shaking away the thought before scribbling his name across the top of the plastic.

"Noah," I said, his name escaping my lips like a delicate sigh. It felt so natural as if he had been the one to breathe it into me.

His inked fingers wrapped around the cup, “You were singing the apparition earlier,” He said, and I watched him curiously, “fascinating, the line about the past.”

Every word felt like it was being taken from my body as we watched each other. Both of us seemed to hesitate, waiting for the other to say something.

The brunette spoke first, eyes gazing upon me for a moment as he turned towards the door, “I’ve never seen you before, you must be new around here.”

Though I wanted to reply, I found myself unable to move or speak. Instead, I fixated on each of his movements as he approached the door, the image of his black hoodie imprinted in my mind.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood," he said with a nod before exiting through the door, the bell chiming behind him.

I stood there, frozen, watching the door long after it had closed behind him. My heart raced, and I could feel a flush creeping up my neck. What was it about this stranger that had me so flustered?

"Earth to Y/N," Annika's voice snapped me back to reality. "You okay there? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I blinked rapidly, trying to regain my composure. "I'm fine," I mumbled, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. "It's just... did you see him? The way he looked at me?"

Annika grinned knowingly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Oh, I saw alright. And I told you to give him your number, didn't I?"

I groaned, leaning against the counter. "I know, I know. I just... froze. God, why am I such an idiot?”

Annika smiled at me, kneading her fingers into my skin sympathetically. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides, he seemed pretty interested in you too. He’ll be back, he always comes here."

I sighed, straightening up and trying to shake off the lingering effects of the encounter. "Maybe. I just... I don't know what came over me. It was like time stopped for a moment there."

"That's called chemistry, sweetie," Annika winked. "And from where I was standing, there was plenty of it."

I busied myself with wiping down the counter, trying to distract myself from the memory of Noah's intense gaze.

But as the day wore on, I found my mind drifting back to those few moments. The way he mentioned the apparition as if he'd been paying attention to me long before I noticed him. As if he was the one to plant the lyrics into my mind. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Noah than met the eye.

As closing time approached, I found myself glancing at the door more frequently, half-hoping he might return. But the bell remained silent, and soon enough, Annika and I were wiping down tables and stacking chairs.

"Why don't you head out early, I can finish up,” She said, wiping her hands on the apron tied to her waist.

I gave her a small smile, appreciating the gesture, “I’d love that. Especially since I have to be at the bar tonight.”

“Go,” she waved me off, and I gave her a nod, gathering my bag.

As I stepped out into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the way his eyes had locked with mine, the subtle rasp in his voice - it all replayed in my mind like a broken record. Was I going crazy? What was wrong with me?

I shoved my hands in my pockets and started the short walk to my condo, my footsteps echoing on the quiet street. The sky was a canvas of deep pinks and oranges, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon at its 5 pm descent.

It was beautiful, but I barely noticed it, too lost in my thoughts.

Suddenly, a familiar figure caught my eye across the street. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the black hoodie and inked fingers. Noah. He was walking in the opposite direction, his head down, seemingly lost in thought.

I hesitated, my feet rooted to the spot. Should I call out to him? Cross the street? The moment stretched out, feeling like an eternity as I debated what to do. Before I could make a decision, Noah looked up and our eyes met once again.

Time seemed to slow as we stood there, frozen on opposite sides of the street, and a car passed between us, momentarily breaking our connection. When it cleared, I saw the brunette take a hesitant step towards the crosswalk.

My heart pounded in my chest as he made his way across the street. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak as he approached.

"We meet again," Noah said softly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hi," I managed to squeak out, inwardly cringing at how breathless I sounded.

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you for the coffee earlier," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was really good. Although I forgot to ask for cream and sugar.”

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words. "Oh, I'm sorry about that," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I usually remember to ask."

Noah shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "No, no. It's not your fault. I was... distracted."

The way he said it, with a hint of shyness in his voice, made my heart race even faster. We stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between us, filled with nervous energy.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," I finally said, extending my hand.

He took it, his touch sending a jolt through my body as his fingers wrapped around my own. "Noah. But you already knew that."

Well, I believe,

Somewhere in the past,

Something was between,

You and I, My dear

Noah’s gaze met mine, our eyes searching for any unspoken words. But he broke the silence with a blunt question: "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

His unexpected inquiry caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but give him a dumbfounded look, my eyebrows furrowing in shock. Slowly, a smile of disbelief spread across my lips and I tilted my head to look at him. A laugh escaped me and he joined in, his own laughter shy and reserved.

"I...I think you should walk by again," I managed to say between giggles, mustering a quick retort. "But only so I can get another glimpse of what you would look like walking towards me on a date." As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed at how cheesy they sounded, but Noah's smile widened at our playful banter.

“So, I’ve gathered that we are both really terrible at flirting,” He said, licking his lips.

I hummed in agreement, “I think that can be a safe deduction from this one-minute conversation,” my eyes following his fingers that now ran through his long chestnut hair, eyes trailing over the flower on the back of his hand, “maybe, you’d like to see how bad a longer conversation could be?” 

I held out my phone, ready to exchange numbers and Noah's eyes lit up at my suggestion, a hint of mischief dancing in them as another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that," he said softly, passing me his phone as we shared each other’s informatoin. "Very much."

We stood there for a moment, both of us grinning like idiots before I remembered my shift at the bar. "Oh, shoot," I muttered, glancing at my phone. "I have to get to my other job soon."

Noah's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Right, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you."

I bit my lip, not wanting our encounter to end just yet, “But we could take a walk before I have to go?”

Noah's face brightened at my suggestion. "I'd love that," he said, falling into step beside me as we started walking down the sidewalk.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the pavement, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances at each other when we thought the other wasn't looking.

"So," Noah began, breaking the silence, "you work at a coffee shop and another place? Busy schedule."

I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, it can be hectic sometimes, but gotta do whatcha gotta do…You mentioned earlier that you've never seen me before. Are you a regular at the café?"

Noah nodded, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. "Yeah, I usually stop by every morning…a little bit of stability and sameness in my life.”

“You don’t find that sameness boring?”

Noah shook his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Not at all. There's comfort in routine, you know? But..." he paused, glancing at me with a soft smile, nudging towards me, "I'm not opposed to a little excitement now and then."

I felt my cheeks warm at his words, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

We strolled on, our shoulders grazing occasionally. The slight touch sent shivers through my body every time.

"I was just listening to this song by Deftones you might enjoy," he said as we walked aimlessly down the street without a plan, “Considering you like sleep token.”

"Can I try to guess?" I looked up at Noah, who stood tall above me. Despite his lanky frame, I felt small next to him and my heart raced at our closeness. With each of his strides, it felt like I had to take three steps, his Dior cologne filling my senses.

Why are you never real?

The shifting states you follow me through

Unrevealed

Just let me go or take me with you

"Is it sex tape?" I asked and Noah gave me a big grin, clearly impressed.

"I have no idea how you guessed the exact song," he chuckled, looking at me curiously.

"What can I say," I shrugged, "I'm good at reading pretty boys' minds. And it's a great song, similar vibe."

He playfully raised an eyebrow at me as we reached the crosswalk. "So you think I'm pretty?"

I watched the other side of the street and smiled as I hummed, "Well, I don't think I'd spontaneously go out with just anyone….For the record, 100 percent my type,” I said, looking at him through my lashes.

Noah's cheeks flushed with colour once again. "And what exactly is your type? I'll keep an eye out for them, just for you."

I thought about it for a moment, biting my lip. "Well, they tend to be hot brunettes with long hair and brown eyes," I trailed my gaze down his body, taking in his hands before looking back up to see the snake tattoo peeking above his hoodie collar, "and they must have tattoos...in variousplaces."

A deeper shade of red coloured Noah's cheeks. "Well, I do have tattoos in various places, if you ever feel curious."

I laughed, watching him. We stared at each other for a moment longer, my heart pounding, as his eyes devoured me before the beeping of the sidewalk timer pulled my attention away from him.

“I have to admit, this is probably the strangest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed, shaking my head in disbelief as we walked along the park path.

“What do you mean?” Noah asked, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he looked between me and the path ahead.

"Going on a ‘date’ with someone I know nothing about," I started, trying to keep things light. "For all I know, you could be a serial killer."

Noah chuckled. "Valid point. This wasn't exactly how I expected to spend my Tuesday evening either, but I do find a dash of danger titillating.” 

I grinned at him. "So you're not a serial killer then?"

"Not that I know of. Pretty sure that's not something I would get enjoyment from," Noah laughed, but I noticed he looked away, eyes becoming distant.

“So who are you then?” I asked as Noah and I followed each other down the park path towards the neighbourhood. The wind was picking up slightly, causing me to shiver and pull my sleeves over my hands, fingers intertwining together in my hoodie pouch. We were walking along a path by the inner city river, the leaves of the birch trees swaying as they danced along to nature’s beat.

As I strolled next to Noah I felt an odd sense of comfort, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the man beside me. I eyed him, his hair flying behind him, eyes squinting through the wind.

Noah seemed to ponder my question for a moment, his eyes scanning the water beside us. "I'm just a guy trying to figure out his place in the world, I guess," he said, “I don’t know who I am.”

As the river rushed by, his words hung in the air, washing away memories of the city and carrying them through the earth in a predetermined path.

"Sometimes I feel like a lost soul," He said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in thought.

I nodded, understanding his sentiment. "I think we all do at times."

Noah let out a low chuckle, pulling himself back to reality. "There's much more to your story though," he prodded.

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect his question. "I suppose everyone has a past."

He looked at me intently, pulling his hoodie over his head to shield himself from the wind. "What's yours? You're not from around here."

I arched an eyebrow, curious about how he had determined this information. "How did you know?" I inquired.

"Your accent," he replied with confidence. "And I haven't seen you around before. I'm pretty familiar with the area."

"Ah, makes sense." I nodded, amused by his observation. "I just moved here from Canada."

"You left the Great White North for this dump of a city?" Noah scoffed, surprised. "You could have gone anywhere in the world, and you chose LA?"

"They call it the City of Dreams," I defended with a shrug. "Plus, I needed to get as far away as possible."

Noah fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. We continued our walk in silence towards the houses.

"Running away from something?" He finally asked, barely above a whisper. Noah's eyes met mine as he tried to read me for an answer.

I let out a sigh, giving him a small smile. "Always."

"Who or what?" Noah prodded further, leaning in with interest.

"Ghosts, demons," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And people too."

We shared a laugh, our voices blending into a beautiful melody that I never wanted to end.

"I left everything behind - everything I've ever known," I began, but turned my head away to avoid his gaze.

I took a deep breath before admitting, "My parents were killed when I was thirteen."

Usually, people would immediately apologize and offer their condolences, but Noah remained silent, letting me continue.

"After that, I bounced around different foster homes because no one wants to take in a teenager."

Noah hummed, encouraging me to keep talking. We strolled down the sidewalk, passing houses as we neared my own. I couldn't help but stare at it as we passed by, but I quickly focused on the path ahead.

"Unfortunately, I fell in with the wrong crowd and ended up involved with some really bad people who only wanted me for what I could give them," I said with a hint of bitterness. "But I worked my ass off to get out, and now I have my own place in an entirely new part of this earth."

I smiled at the brunette, feeling grateful for his willingness to listen. He returned the smile and gave me a knowing look, almost as if he understood.

Noah's attention turned toward the houses we passed. His gaze was intense as he scanned each one carefully.

"Sorry for dumping all that on you," I said with an uncomfortable laugh. "I don't know why I just told all that to a stranger."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "We're not strangers anymore," he said. "More like acquaintances."

I felt reassured by his words and couldn't help but ask about him. "So what about you? You seem pretty mysterious."

Noah fell into silence, his brows furrowed in thought once again. His gaze scanned the grass intently as if searching through memories. Eventually, he turned back to me with a small grin.

“I’m…just Noah,” He said; but as I stared into his eyes, devouring his soul, I saw that he was much more than that. His eyes held a depth of emotion that hinted at hidden truths and untold tales. But I didn't push. After all, we had only just met.

"Well, 'just Noah,'" I said with a playful smile, "I'm glad our paths crossed today."

He returned my smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me too. More than you know."

chapter two

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Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @Anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[1-800-local-slut]

Decisions

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending, lies and deceit, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, broken family, break ups, arguing, reader has a bad mom, mention of smut, kinda creepy Rio, abusive childhood, suicidal thoughts, recreational drug use, mentions of sex but no smut, Rio calls Beth annoying but make no mistake I love me some Beth, slight canon divergence, not proof read we die like men 💪🏾

Rio get’s close to the reader, due to him having an issue with her mother. He falls for her and they start dating but 8 months into their relationship she finds out the first six months of their relationship was a lie. She realizes she can’t trust him and dumps him.

PSA: The reader has an abusive mother and no father, there's only one mention of the reader getting punched in the face. If that's something that would trigger you then please don't read for your own sake

Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

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When he saw her for the first time, it was dark out. She was standing under the streetlight, waiting for her bus and Rio was standing in the bushes behind her. The light above made her luminescent, giving her dark skin and gorgeous glow. He didn't even know why it shocked him to see her there. He had been waiting for her after all.

It was a chilly April night, she was shivering. Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a puff of cold air. He even remembered thinking that it was weird how cold it was for April. She held her phone in her hand, her headphones lightly bled music. Rio could've stared at her all day, if only he wasn't here on business.

He needed to put some pressure on someone and this was how it needed to be done. Stepping out of the bush, Rio slid close to the target of the evening.

His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for some sort of entry point. She didn't notice him, he wasn't standing too close to her yet. With a final scan, he noticed the Jordan high tops that hugged her feet. Perfect.

Taking another step, a bigger step, he made sure his presence was known. Her eyes glanced up at him, a natural response. She carefully observed him, like she was deciding if she should take a large step away or just ignore him. The leaking music shut off and Rio fought back a smile. Best not to freak her out. It was time to finally put things into motion.

"Those shoes are nice, I was looking for a pair for my cousins quince gift but I couldn't find any in her size." Of course there was no way to start a conversation with a woman this late at night in t he middle of nowhere waiting for a bus without sounding like a creep but Rio was pressed for time.

She raised an eyebrow, and glance him up and down before she glanced at the time. Checking how much time before the bus came, smart.

"Thanks. I picked them up last week." Curt and to the point. Rio admired how quickly she went on the defense.

"They suit you. The color I mean. If you don't mind can I ask where you brought those? I just moved here, and I don't know where anything is." Her plump lips pushed into a straight line as if she was contemplating.

Mentally, he willed her to just go for it. Just take the bait, so the guy he had in the bushes who was about to take a few pictures for evidence could get something.

"Yeah, you just have to head to the store on 83rd. There's a place called Sole Symphony. You can get a good deal if you talk to the right person.

"Oh I passed that place on my drive in. I'm Rio, by the way." Extending his palm, Rio heard the bus pulling up behind them. Sure, he knew her name already. But what if he wanted to know more than just her name?

As she placed her hand in his and said her name, the doors of the bus slid open behind the two.

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"Baby what do you want to eat?" She was leaning on the arm of the couch, while Rio rested his head on her lap. Clad in one of Rio's black t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that outlined that ass he worshipped. Under the lights of her living room, she still looked radiant.

"What, you can't cook?" Rio teased, only to be playfully swatted on his head.

"Stop being annoying, I'm ordering dinner because someone's stupid self forgot to go to the grocery store."

"I forgot to go because you wanted to play around all day, so had to I come home and handle business." Rio smiled, a true smile. A smile he hadn't had in a really really long time. She giggled and bent her face closer to his, and hummed. She rubbed her thumb over his forehead, in a way that made Rio shudder.

"I only did that because you finished all my weed and then got me the wrong strain. So maybe that's your fault?" Rio rolled his eyes playfully, and accepted the soft kiss she planted on his lips.

It filled him with a warm, thick feeling. If someone made love into soup, it was filling his stomach at this very moment. Giving him a full, heavy feeling that Rio never wanted to lose. After a second they pulled apart and Rio stared deeply into her eyes. She did the same, like she could see Rio baring his soul to her.

Every now and again though, he remembered though that this was merely temporary. He never, and he cannot stress how much he means never, let himself fall for someone he was using for business. Still, some rules were meant to be broken.

Whenever he remembered that fact, when he remembered that once his debt was settled with her mother (the whole reason he approached her at that bus station in the first place), his heart died a bit.

The past four months had been nothing but a mix of stress and bliss. Stress, the stress of accidentally hurting the person who broke into his heart. Bliss, from laying with her just like this. Every night, or going to dinner with her. How six months could change a man so much was beyond him. Just being with her, even if it was technically for leverage. Though he would never hurt her.

Still, if she knew, it would hurt her more than anything. It would be like a knife, piercing her heart before twisting and causing her to bleed out unstoppably.

Realistically, speaking anyone would be. If you knew your drug addict mother got herself in too deep and your boyfriend was only with you for leverage against her, you'd be pretty cut up about it, wouldn't you?

The drug addict mother, who started exhibiting psychotic jealousy at what seemed like the moment you turned 12 , and who punched you in the mouth after you refused to be nice to her new boyfriend, who you fought so hard to get away from after your nightmare of a childhood? Who told you everyday that not only were you not shit but you'd never be shit? The mother you don't even tell people you have, like the father you never met?

How would you feel to find out that after fighting your entire life just to live a life that wasn't filled with filth, bearing your entire being to someone (the only one who knew the truth), that finally when you found happiness none of it was real? All because of the mother who you don't even acknowledge, after fighting tooth and nail to get as far as you could from, was still giving you grief.

It killed Rio to know all of this too. To see the scars that she trusted him enough to explain. To explain why she's afraid to have children of her own, to understand what made her into the beautiful, strong and confident woman she turned into too. How could Rio hurt someone who accepted him so wholly?

It made him sick to think about. Honestly, he felt like a toxic rapper who does his woman wrong and everyone but her seems to know. He felt like the definition of shit.

"...be?"

"Huh?"

"Is thai food alright with you, babe?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry I just dosed off for a moment." Just like that, her voice was like a light shinning through the dark. Her face reflected concern, and she ran a manicured nail over his cheek. On instinct he clasped her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you?" Her voice an even whisper. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her literally everything, and he meant everything. Everything about himself, not the partly fabricated tale he told her about his life for the sake of keeping her at an arms length.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rio gave a small chuckle.

"Nah just thinking about you mamas." Rio smirked up at her and saw her playful eye roll.

"Boy, if you don't do something with yourself." She laughed with a the smile he'd fallen in love with, pinching him on his chest and he winced before letting out a laugh. Rio grabbed his pants from the side of the couch where he hastily threw them when he came home to 'handle business'. Pulling out his wallet, he plucked his credit card out of the folds. He chuckled and handed it to her, where it was gracefully accepted. Within seconds, Rio felt like he could feel the money being pulled from his heart and his card.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you keep an ear out for the food." She announced, slipping out from underneath him and leaving his head to connect with the couch.

"Without me though?" He watched her walk out of the living room and to her bathroom, sliding the boxers off in the process. If anything she was relentless in her desire to tease him.

"Don't be gross." She chastised, tossing her shirt off behind her and Rio admired her perfect body before she was out of sight and the door behind her closed.

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"Flowers?" Beth raised an eyebrow at the large bundle in the back of his car. Rio glanced back, the flowers and immediate reminder of what was waiting for him right after this. He couldn't even fight the grin. This girl had him feeling butterflies, kicking his feet and giggling when she wasn't even there and it was only eight months.

"For my lady." It was Fall now. The changing leaves reminded Rio of his changing heart, his changing mind. How he changed so much in the last eight months in so many ways that he couldn't even describe.

Coming up on their eight month anniversary and Rio wasn't even close to playing when it came to celebrating. That big ass bouquet was just the first part. He had a pair of matching necklaces for the two of them, a set of twin cuban links with a nice romantic saying, 'Semper Fidelis' (Always Faithful) carved into them.

Especially since his relationship with Beth had been a recent source of anger between the two. In all fairness, Rio told her he was involved in the stock market, which technically wasn't a lie. She knew he did something illegal though and didn't seem to care as long as neither of them got arrested.

What he didn't explain was what a big tittied white woman was doing calling his phone in the middle of the night and why she sounded so upset when she answered instead of him. Or why there were so many calls between the two of them when Rio was at work when Rio requested she don't blow his phone up when he's at work. Or why when he came home early to have lunch with her he had to leave in the middle because Beth had been blowing his phone up during their entire meal.

Honestly though, Rio knew better than to trip about it. Shit, Rio knew he wasn't even feeling Beth's annoying ass like that. If it was him, some dude called his girl in the middle of the night then had the audacity to sound annoyed when HE answered the phone? He would've flown off the handle before the call even hung up. He'd be out of bed, pulling up his pants and boxers, grabbing his gun and his keys and half way into his shoes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Beth asked, eyes bugging out of her head, mouth open in shock. Why did she look like a salmon?

"You sound shocked. I got game, Elizabeth. Anyways, about your issue tell your FBI man that I hit or whatever." Pushing down the button, she still sat there gaping at him.

"What...?" She blinked, hushing her voice as if someone was gonna hear them. Part of him wanted to tell her to get the fuck out so he could get the fuck home. But in the past eight months, he learned how to have a bit more patience.

"Tell him we made love." Wiggling his eyebrows he made a motion for her to get out of his vehicle and she made her way out. Thank God.

Turning on his engine he winded down the window of the passenger window.

"Make me sound good." And with that he was gone.

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As crazy and inebriated as her momma was for most of her childhood, sometimes she was smart. Like when she taught her how to fight when those girls at school wanted to jump her. Like when she taught her and her sisters to never and she meant NEVER leave your sister in a pinch no matter whats going on between you three. When she taught her how to hot wire a car, and especially when to know if a man was lying.

There were more life lessons, like how to make a crack pipe on the go or how to hide from the police but what can you really learn from someone who was drunk as shit most of your life?

So imagine how shocked and confused she was when she realized 'dang. my momma was right, all niggas are liars.' because her boyfriend had been lying to her their entire relationship? Was it lying or omission? Was she gonna pack her shit and leave without a word to his no-good-low-down-lying-scheming-dirty-bastard self, or put hands on him and go to jail? Lots of decisions for a girl to make in one night. One thing she did decide on the moment she got that phone call from her mom this morning, and got those photos that were taken that first night they met: it was over.

She wished all she felt was anger but that was a lie. With Rio, no Christopher, things were easy. She really was in love, he made her heart swell up like a balloon. When she was at her worse, he was right there and understood and helped her in the best way he could. Understood her anger, understood her sadness. Whatever choice she made, he stood behind it no matter what. He wasn't the type of guy (maybe he could've been, it was clear that she had no clue who he really was) to just sit there and act like he always knew better than you. No, he listened to her, gave her an ear and when she asked for it advice.

This hurt. This wasn't just sadness and betrayal, it was despair. To know that after she fought to get away from her mother. After she got up, walked out that house with nothing but the clothes on her back and said 'if i'm homeless i'm homeless, but its better than being with you' and never saw her again it was only because of that woman that she met someone who she was so head over heels for.

Because of that woman she was sitting here, heart broken. She was sitting here, after sobbing her eyes out in disbelief, after deleting every single picture of the two out of her phone. She was sitting here drowning in rage and betrayal. No. No for once, she couldn't put all the blame on her.

Christopher made the choice to play in her face. He made the choice to waste eight months of her life. To lie, and say he loved her like would be the only woman for him. He probably was cheating on her with that white bitch (with a name like Elizabeth she had to be) and they were probably laughing at her for the past eight months cuddled up together. He made the choice and she fell for it. Outside, the lights of his car pulling up roused some sort of rage deep inside of her. A little voice in her head spoke, it said take a bottle to the backside of his head.

Taking the bottle of liquor next to her, and rearing her arm back over her head she pondered if she was really going to listen to that little voice.

It an easy decision to make.

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"You stupid fuck! Really Christopher, this is what we on?" The scream, and the bottle hitting the wall right next to the door was his greeting. Not a 'hi baby, how was work' like usual. He could already guess he was not about to hit tonight.

"What the fuck? What is your problem?" He yelled back, in this instance he was justified in his screaming considering the murder attempt.

"My problem? My problem? You dickhead, your my fucking problem! You thought shit was sweet? You thought I was just gonna let it slide?" She laughed, anger literally rolling off her.

Taking a moment to look around Rio noticed a few things: the photo of them that was on the table next to her couch was tipped over, the glass shattered the frame on the ground. There was a half empty bottle of wine and a broken glass in the sink. There was a manilla folder, one that he was praying he didn't recognize (but he was starting to think he did), clutched in her shaking hand. Her curly hair was a mess, like she'd been tugging at it in anger.

Sure he knew she'd always been a little bit crazy, he was actually really into it, but did he think this was how their eighth anniversary would start? Nope.

His stomach started to drop. It had been a few months since his business with her mother ended and he was truly hoping from the bottom of his heart hoping she would never find out. He ruled out her mother somehow finally worrying about her enough to tell her.

"What is that?" Rio asked, slamming the door behind him and stepping into the apartment fully. Her neighbors only needed to hear the first part of their exchange, nothing more. She took three defiant steps backwards. The lights were all off, and only the TV was on.

"Got this in the fucking mail today." She growled, throwing the packet at his face. Clear as day, the pictures he had taken of them. For proof. One the first night they met, two on their first date, three when they went to the arcade together and played every game you both could manage and he found himself really trying to impress her. That was when he realized her had a bit of a problem. Then a few more, but eventually they stop after the first two months of their relationship.

The next four months of them being together he resorted to threats and by some miracle her mother found a way to pay off her debts and he was done with her by month six. But not using her for only two out of eight months of their relationship was not a good look.

An awkward silence settled over the two, his stomach feeling heavy. He started to feel warm from shame and fear. The room felt like it was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Even before she said it he knew that he just lost the best thing in his life.

"And some phone calls. Not only did you fucking use me, you also threatened my mom and found my sisters houses?! You dickhead, I'll kill you." She roared, throwing a near by object, which he narrowly dodged.

"Why did you play in my fucking face? For eight fucking months you decided to play in my face and be laid up with me and act like you love me, are you serious?" His head hung low, shame and disappointment and anger. Anger because he knew one thing for sure, this was no ones fault but his. He made the decisions he made. That was on no one but him.

"What you can't fucking talk now? You don't know words? But when that hoe Beth called you could sit up on the phone with her about bullshit right?" She yelled. Rio couldn't even find words. Where should he even start? Beth seemed like the worse place to start.

"Right?" She yelled again, getting in his face before stepping back and breaking into deranged laughter putting a hand on her forehead in outrage. He was panicking. What did he do? Yell at her when he knew he was wrong? Yell at himself for hurting her? What was he even supposed to do in a situation like this? A dry and tear-filled laugh shook him from his thoughts.

"Why though? Why did you do this, I trusted you. I gave you my heart, I gave you my fucking everything. If you can't trust you, then what can I trust?!" The broken sob cut through Rio like a knife. She threw her arms out and drunkenly staggered a bit. She stared, eyes pleading for an answer. An explanation. Anything? But for the first time in a long ass time, Rio had no idea what to say. He felt his palms sweat, gaze still fixed on the photos.

She would never smile at him the way she was in those pictures again. And she grinned as bright as the Sun in each photo except for the first.

When she was still met with silence, Rio resigned. He wanted to say something. Damn, why couldn't he speak? Why was he just sitting there? She was just as confused (surely more confused) as Rio.

"I can't believe this. I let you in and you really sat there and played with me. And you really don't got shit to say either? Well guess what nigga, it's done. I'll die before you hear my voice again, before you ever seem me again. And I could sit up here and yell and scream at you but you know what my momma taught me? As worthless as she was she taught me one thing: the best way to hurt a man is to move on. Get the fuck out." And just like that, before Rio could even say a word it was all over.

The next few minutes were a blur. A trash bag with all his shit was thrown out the window after he was shoved out of her apartment. All the gifts he'd gotten her, the shoes, the jewelry, even her cart that had her name custom printed on it, were tossed out there too. Rio sat out there, outside her apartment complex for what felt like hours.

Shit it probably had been hours. The flowers in the back taunted him. He wanted to stomp on them, he wanted to kick and scream at the world. Why did he fucking do that? For his job of course. Fuck that job, look where it got him. Standing outside the apartment of the love of his life.

Worse, he didn't even speak to defend himself, and she tossed him out so quick that it left his head spinning. He wasn't even sure how he walked to the elevator and made his way to his car. He wanted to die, he wanted to collapse, he wanted to go all the way back in time and tell himself to call off everything and meet her some other way. Now he lost everything that could've been lost to him.

And it was all because of his decisions.

Taglist:

@eddiemunsonreader

[frandomgorl]

I’ve decided to write about my Outsiders pet peeves

TRIGGER WARNING: Dally’s suicide

1. Saying that Ponyboy is bratty or over dramatic. First of all, he’s a freshman in high school. Mostly everyone I know was annoying as a freshman too. He JUST turned 14 in the book, so yeah some of the things he says are petty or rude, but he’s a child. Not only is he a child, but he’s established from the beginning as a character that feels things deeply, he contemplates things that he can’t really vocalize with a majority of the people around him. He has no parents, and he feels lonely after their death. I personally have siblings but if my parents died, especially at a young age, I’d feel lost and lonely too. Him having brothers doesn’t make the gravity of his parents death any less saddening.

2. People who watched the musical and said anything along the lines of “I don’t like that Dally committed Suicide”. Because he committed suicide in the book too. And it wasn’t like some secret that he did it, it wasn’t “heavily implied”. He wasn’t just lost and confused so he made trouble and was reckless. Because Dally was not unintelligent. He knew if he robbed the store, the cops would come after him. He knew that if he pointed the gun at the police, they’d shoot him. There was nothing accidental about his death, and to imply that is insulting the characters intelligence and minimizing his feelings. Assisted suicide is still suicide.

3. Anyone who demonizes Darry, wasn’t paying enough attention to what ever version of the Outsiders that were reading or watching. I mentioned earlier that I didn’t like how some people talk about Pony, but Darry also tends to get demonized by a lot of people. A lot of people think that you can’t like both Darry and Pony, but that’s not true. Darry was doing his best in his circumstance and always had Ponyboy and Soda at the top of his list of priorities.

4. People who write Dally in a way that glorifies his actions in life. I understand that everyone wants to think of the gang as these sweet little guys with an adorable found family. Hell, I love those fanfictions, but you can love a character and also understand that objectively they aren’t a good person. I love Dally, and I’m sympathetic to him because of his past, but I won’t justify the things he does. Dally does, and has done a lot of bad things in his life, and he has a lot of flaws. I’m not going to make excuses for him. I can be sympathetic to him, and also truthful about him.

5. I have seen some people talk about Randy’s redemption in a negative light. A lot of people saying it felt like too little too late. However, Randy having that redemption is so important because it emphasizes the similarities is the social classes. His arc also serves as a reminder that’s the docs were human too. He was an example of positive change within the series.

6. I understand if the outsiders isn’t your cup of tea, but just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it bad. I don’t like rom coms, but that’s not because they are bad, it’s because they are rom coms, I can’t sit through the genre. The outsiders is at its core a coming of age novel that still rings true for a lot of people today. So my last pet peeve is people saying it’s “it’s just a school assignment”. At its core it is an assignment but a lot of people see themselves in these characters and that’s something no one should feel bad about.

Thanks for coming to my TED TALK

[irwinsblender]

inner demons

a/n: i’ve written this over the span of a few weeks bc my mental health has been down the drain recently and i needed an outlet. i wasn’t sure about uploading this, but here it is anyway

also used these pictures of ashton bc that’s how i imagine he’d look when listening to you rant about how you’re feeling

pairing: ashton x reader

summary: your mental health has been getting worse again and ashton is there to try and help you through it

warnings: depression, self harm, reference to suicide - and please, if you find any of these triggering, don’t read this fic

word count: 3k

✩ ✩ ✩

winter was one of the worst times of year for you. specifically, for your mental health. the dreary, rainy and cloudy weather, days becoming dark hours earlier than in the summer was always hard on you.

your mental health was bad already. you’d been suffering with depression for quite a long time now. it first started at school when you couldn’t deal with exams along with certain horrible people in your classes, that seemed to linger for a few years after you graduated.

just when you thought things were getting better, the pandemic hit, causing you to relapse and become worse than before. you didn’t know how to deal with all of the terrible thoughts that were constantly going around your head, including thoughts telling you to hurt yourself.

and you did, you turned to that to help you cope with feeling so exhausted. in the end, it didn’t really help. but you had nothing else to help you.

until you met ashton irwin. your now boyfriend.

you’d never met anyone as caring as him. he always listened to anything you had to say, he was there for you when you needed to rant; most of all, he didn’t leave after you told him about your struggles.

in fact, he empathised with you. telling you about his struggles and ways he tried to get through them. he promised then and there that he would always be there to support you and would never judge you for any of your thoughts or emotions.

you always appreciated ashton, but you found it hard to tell him when you were beginning to struggle more again. you felt pathetic not being able to cope on your own, you felt like a burden in his life every time you had to involve him in your problems.

this was one of those times.

it had been a long day, or at least it felt like it had been. it was raining all day, something you hated. you hadn’t been able to get out of bed, you hadn’t eaten, only had a drink of water which ashton brought to you before he left the house earlier in the day.

you’d been sitting in the bathroom for the past hour with the door locked. you’d told ashton you were going to have a shower, but, you never got that far. ashton would’ve noticed that the noise of the shower never started, but he’s always been respectful to leave you to whatever you need to do.

it was different this time though. it was too quiet. he was sat in the living room, planning on cooking you both a nice dinner. however, you’d been acting different today. you’d been quiet, not as cheerful as usual when he arrived home from being elsewhere.

you were sat on the closed toilet, leaning against the counter as tears fell down your face. deciding if you were going to do what your mind had been telling you to do. you didn’t want to hurt yourself again, but what choice did you have? nothing else helped. it was practically staring you in the face from where you’d placed the sharp object on the counter.

you looked down at your arms, marks from a couple of weeks ago that were starting to heal properly. marks you hadn’t told ashton about. ashton knew you struggled more at this time of year; he’d been busy recently with work, he hadn’t had time to notice things going even more downhill.

while you were contemplating your choices, ashton had been making his way upstairs. he decided that maybe you needed some company with showering. you told him previously that you find it comforting showering together, so that’s what he’d do.

he entered the bedroom, still hearing no movement. he tried to go into the bathroom, met with the door not budging. just the handle twisting. he couldn’t open the door. you’d locked it.

“sweetheart?” he called out, sudden worry washing over him. “you okay in there?”

you’d jumped at the sound of him trying to open the door, you don’t usually lock it, but it was necessary this time. you didn’t answer him, trying to muffle your cries.

“baby? please answer me,” you could hear the frustration and fear in his tone. “i’m here for you, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m fine, ash,” you sniffled. “just leave me alone.”

it came out harsher than you meant it to. your emotions playing a part. you never ask him to leave you alone. that only happened when you were in this kind of situation.

“i’m not leaving,” ashton replied. “talk to me, please, i’m here, whatever you need.”

you let out an accidental loud cry, placing your head in your hands as you couldn’t hold back your cries any longer. you were in so much pain it was hard to handle.

ashton’s heart broke hearing the way you were crying. why hadn’t he noticed you weren’t as happy as normal, why hadn’t he noticed your depression taking a toll again. he should’ve noticed.

“can you open the door, baby?” he asked, trying his luck before he’d have to figure something else out.

“no,” you said with a gasp, your crying almost uncontrollable as you moved to pick the object up from the counter.

your shaky hands weren’t helping, causing you to drop it, making a clanging noise as it hit the floor. you knew ashton would’ve heard it, he would’ve put two and two together. you couldn’t pick it up, crying even harder.

ashton was going through his nightstand already, trying to find the outside key for the bathroom door. he was panicking by now, frantically trying to find it, worried when he didn’t come upon it instantly. until, a light caught his eye on the dresser.

the light reflecting on the key, he quickly picked it up, going back to the bathroom door. he slid the key into the lock, twisting it two times until he heard it click.

he pushed it open, causing you to quickly try and turn away, rushing to pull the sleeves of your hoodie down before he could see anything. you wiped your eyes on your sleeves instead, only glancing over to him for a second.

ashton looked to you first, he couldn’t miss the way you pulled at your sleeves, he looked to the ground, seeing the razor there, but it was clean which gave him slight relief.

he moved it out of the way, walking to you slowly, crouching down beside you. he placed one hand on your knee, caressing his thumb back and fourth, the other on your waist.

“i’m here, baby, i’m here now,” he tried to reassure. “what do you need?”

you shook your head, you couldn’t even look at him. you felt pathetic, like a disgrace. you couldn’t look your own boyfriend in the eye because you were embarrassed about how badly you were handling things.

ashton saw the expression on your face, it was too familiar. the same a couple of years ago, when you were struggling, when you had been harming yourself. he knew what was going on now.

“it’s okay if you’re not doing okay, love,” he said, cupping your cheek in one of his hands, wiping away your tears.

“i’m fine,” you bluntly responded. “i’m always fine, everything is always just fine.”

your hurt started turning into slight anger. angry with yourself, angry with the way you kept going around in circles with your mental health. you got a little better, and then things always became worse. it’s the same thing over and over and over.

“baby—“

“just leave me alone,” you folded your arms, pushing his hands away from you. not thinking straight with the other thoughts clouding your mind.

“i don’t want you to be alone,” ashton softly replied, trying to keep calm in this situation. “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i’m handling it,” you tried to get a subtle look behind ashton, trying to find where the razor was. if you could just get him to leave—

“angel,” he got your attention. knowing that nickname would stop you from whatever else you’re thinking about. “you know it’s okay if you aren’t doing good, this isn’t something that will instantly go away, there are ups and downs and that’s okay. wherever you’re at now, i’m here to help you through it.”

you cried harder at that. everything was hurting. you were exhausted with life. you didn’t want to keep living like this.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, holding your hands over your face. “i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey, it’s okay, why are you sorry?” ashton asked, standing himself up as he took your hands in his.

“i— i did it again,” you blubbered. taking a breath to try and control your crying. ashton didn’t know what you were talking about. “i know i said i’d talk to you if i felt that bad again, but i just— i couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

then it clicked. he knew what you meant. locking yourself in the bathroom, the razor you’d dropped on the floor. you’d been self harming again.

“you don’t have to apologise for that, baby,” he sighed. “it’s not something easy to talk about, please don’t feel like you need to say sorry to me.”

you were quiet after he said that. trying not to keep crying the way you were while also trying to figure out what to say next. his hands were still in yours, not planning on letting go any time soon.

“i thought things were getting better,” you complained honestly. “i was happy travelling with you the last two months, and as soon as we got home everything started crashing down on me.”

“being on tour was a big distraction for you, a new city every night, seeing places you’ve never been before, you didn’t have time to think about anything else,” ashton reminded. “now we’re home, there’s days where we have nothing going on, it gives your mind time to overthink and for those bad thoughts to come back.”

you didn’t say anything after that, ashton could tell it wasn’t helping with you sitting in the bathroom, the razor behind him on the floor. he pulled at your hands softly, urging you to stand with him. thankfully you did, walking with him as he lead you through to the bedroom. he took you over to the bed, only letting go of your hands so he could sit back against the headboard.

“come here, love,” he held one arm out, waiting for you to get comfortable.

you sat down, shuffling over to him. your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around you to keep you close. he pressed a delicate kiss to your cheek, causing you to look up at him.

“i don’t know what to do,” you suddenly spoke. ashton allowing you to get your thoughts out. “this feels never ending, it feels like there’s no way out apart from—“

“baby,” he cut you off before you could finish your sentence. he knew what you were going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it come out of your mouth. “i know it’s hard, and i hate that you’re feeling like this again. you deserve so much happiness and i wish there was more i could do to take your pain away.”

“it hurts, ash,” you started to cry again, tears dropping down your cheeks continuously. “everything hurts so bad.”

he pulled you tighter against his chest, one hand on the back of your head, slowly running through your hair. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead every few moments, trying to let you know how much he loved you and that he was right there with you through this.

as your crying started to calm down, ashton took one of your hands in his, stretching out your arm slightly. you looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

“can i see?” he asked.

you weren’t sure at first, but eventually nodded your head. he gently pulled up your sleeve, each mark, scar and any new cuts revealing themselves to him. you sighed seeing the upset look on his face.

“they’re horrible,” you sniffled. tugging your arm away from him. “i’m sorry.”

“they aren’t horrible, baby,” ashton held your hand. he ran his thumb over a couple of old scars, then he lifted your arm up, pressing kisses along the length of it. “they show strength. it shows you’ve been strong enough to fight to stay in this world.”

you didn’t know how he could see it like that. in your own head, it showed how weak you were, how bad you were at coping with life.

“you’re the strongest person i know,” ashton continued, pulling your sleeve back down as he kept your hand in his. “it takes strength to admit you aren’t doing good, so i’m proud of you for telling me.”

“i don’t know what to do, ash,” you slouched further into his grip, cheek pressed against his chest. “nothing’s getting better, i don’t know what to do to get better. this cycle is becoming too much to deal with.”

ashton could’ve cried hearing you say that. knowing the person he loved is feeling so defeated broke his heart. he would do anything it takes to make you feel better, to try and help you.

“i’m here for you, baby,” he stroked his hand softly through your hair. “anything you need me to do, just say the word, i promise i will always be here for you.”

“i don’t know what else will help,” you sniffled. “therapy didn’t work, the meds made me feel worse, there’s nothing else. i have nothing else.”

“you have me,” ashton cupped your cheek in his hand, lifting your head to look at him. “if you want me to listen, if you need advice, if you want me to distract you, or if you just want me to hold you while you cry, i'll be here. no matter what.”

he leaned down, kissing your forehead before pecking your lips a few times in a row. finally getting a small smile out of you. if he could see your smile every day, his life would be complete. that’s all he wanted. for you to be happy.

“i’m sorry for being like this again,” you sighed. not holding eye contact. “i don’t know how you put up with me.”

“i’m not putting up with this,” ashton shook his head. “i care about you, more than anything, i’ll do whatever it takes to make this a little easier for you to get through, because you can get through it.”

you shuffle down, your head resting on his stomach as you close your eyes. tired out from the chaos of your own mind.

“we could take a few trips,” ashton suggested. “you love travelling. i know you still have that list of places you want to visit.”

“i do, but…” you paused, opening your eyes as you squeezed ashton’s hand in yours. “what happens when we come home? i’ll just be like this again.”

“we’ll try and find other things for you to enjoy,” ashton was determined to stay positive in this situation. “you love to draw, you love to create art, and i’ve seen the way you watch me play the drums and guitar. i could teach you, give you something else to put your mind to.”

you thought for a moment, wiping your sleeves over your eyes one last time. you couldn’t believe ashton still wanted to bother with trying after how difficult and negative you always were in this situation.

“okay,” you mumbled. ashton was surprised to hear that you’ll do this. “i don’t know if it’ll help, but i’ll try.”

“that’s a start,” ashton smiled. “the best thing you can do is try. even if it takes time.”

you nodded. finally looking up at him. you shuffled yourself upwards, capturing his lips in a unexpected but loving kiss. placing your hand on his cheek softly as you pull away.

“how would you feel about getting a guitar?” he asked, hands on your waist pulling you to straddle him. “i know how much you love painting, we could buy some paint for it so you can make it your own.”

“i could paint little flowers on it,” you excitedly suggested. “and maybe some butterflies too, that would look pretty.”

ashton nodded in agreement, just happy that you were willing to do this to see if it’ll help having your mind preoccupied with something like learning how to play an instrument. he hoped this would help, hating seeing you hurting like this.

“well, the band has no plans on making new music just yet,” ashton tucked your hair behind your ears. “we could take a trip soon… italy maybe?”

“really? you want go to italy before going back to australia?” you asked, one of your bucket list places, knowing how much he wanted to head back to australia after tour ended.

“australia can wait, i want to make sure you’re okay first.”

you let out a long breath, leaning towards him to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms around your back as he hugged you as close to him as he could get you. he kissed your cheek, making sure you knew he would always be there for moments like this.

“i love you,” he said quietly. “remember i’ll always be here, for anything you need. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you held him tighter. “i love you, ash.”

a few more tears threatened to leave your eyes as you hugged. you truly didn’t think you’d be here anymore if ashton hadn’t come into your life when he did. and now he can be your anchor that grounds you and gives you a reason to try and live this life, no matter how tough it might be.

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: @hexsdexs @conspiracy-ash @oliviah-25 @superbloomrry | if you would like to join my taglist, please comment here or see this post

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5,043

Notes;

Part 3 should be available soon. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me. Check post comments after reading chapter for additional statements.

As you had anticipated, Irina was truly overjoyed to learn how your first day of school had gone. She asked so many questions; the conversation went well into the night after she had returned home from work. 

“Could you see yourself becoming friends with any of the other students?” Irina asked from the kitchen table as you cleared remnants of dinner from the counter. 

You set a plate down in the sink and contemplated her question. Thinking back on the people you met over the course of the day, a few names came to mind. Kirby seemed kind. You had exchanged numbers after film club had ended. Her other friend, Jill, seemed a fine enough person as well, though a bit more reserved. 

You thought back to any of the other conversations you had throughout the day. Robbie’s awkward invitation played over, albeit a brave gesture, it didn’t seem like likely grounds for a friendship. Your thoughts then shifted to Robbie’s counterpart. 

Charlie seemed to keep much more to himself. It felt special to have someone, practically a stranger, come to your defense in any sort of situation. Charlie could be a friend, possibly. A half smile slipped up your lips. What did you know, though? Maybe it wasn’t really a possibility at all.

“I don’t know, maybe. I think it’s too soon to tell.” You spoke over your shoulder, holding your hand under the kitchen faucet, waiting for the water to warm. 

“Hmm,” Irina began, you peered over at her. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, concealing a knowing smile. “Well, I have hope for you. Don’t count anybody out just yet.” 

You nodded, loading glasses and silverware into the dishwasher. 

If it were meant to happen, you figured it would. The only real matter of importance to you at the moment was pushing through your classes, giving yourself an opportunity to move you forward in life. It wouldn’t be long until college applications and standardized testing would be consume most of your free time and thoughts. 

The next few weeks passed by as most did when beginning a new school year. The teachers, thankfully, kept most assignments and quizzes simple to build back the tolerance towards regular class work that had been lost over the summer break. 

As you had also expected, the introductions and sudden interest other students had towards you started to fizzle out as they fell back into their usual routines. Although Kirby had become a welcomed energy in your space. She went out of her way to speak to you in classes you shared. She had even recently began to invite you to join her and her small circle to leave campus during your lunch period. It felt nice to be included, even if you had yet to be around them outside of school hours. 

Charlie had continued to walk with you to film club most days. The two of you shared very little actual conversations. Most moments were filled with a comfortable silence. 

You really began to pick up on things in the club. You’d write yourself small lists of the movies mentioned during that hour and return home to watch as many as possible while you worked on your homework. It was nice to have things to fill your time, distractions to push any memories away from before your return to Woodsboro.

The air had started to chill and change as September crept its way to the present day. It was a cloudy Friday, nearly two full weeks had passed since that first day of school. You were walking your usual route towards room 120A, Charlie in step beside you. Just before you were able to make it through the classroom doors, you heard your name called from the opposite end of the hallway.

You looked up to find Scotty Anderson gawking his way towards you. ‘Shit,’ you rolled your eyes. You had done a pretty good job of avoiding him and his group since the sports equipment bag debacle. You glanced over at Charlie. His frame was unusually rigid, no discernable emotion in his expression. 

You sucked in your cheeks, debating on just turning into the classroom. It was better to just get this over with than put it off; you decided. 

You took a few steps forwards, meeting Scotty in the middle of the hallway. You held both hands in front of you, tapping your foot as you thought of what he could have to say to you.

“Hey, I know we haven’t had the opportunity to speak.” Scotty began, moving the same bag of equipment up onto his shoulder. “I just wanted to apologize for running into you the other day. Definitely not cool.” It was clear in his tone he didn’t actually mean a word of what he had just said. 

You nodded, biting the tip of your tongue. You never expected an apology, and after as much time had passed, you really didn’t care to have one. You were more confused about why he had apologized now, after days had passed. 

“It’s fine man, don’t worry about it.” You replied, turning on your heel to head back towards the classroom. Scotty’s hand gripped its way around your upper arm, spinning you back towards him. You were visibly taken aback by the sudden motion and intrusion into your personal space. 

“Look, let me make it up to you. Give me your number, I’ll take you out sometime, show you around Woodsboro.” He practically demanded, a sly cocky grin plastered across his face. He was just plainly handsome, the athletic and popular type you imagined some girls would go for. You might’ve given him a chance too, if things hadn’t started out the way they had. He was still somehow able to make his chances even worse though as he continued to talk. You weren’t the least bit interested. 

You glanced over your shoulder. Charlie was still standing in the doorway, his eyes flashed quickly between you and Scotty. A disgusted frown clung to his lips as he watched the situation unfolding before him. 

You looked back up at Scotty, shaking your arm out of his grasp. “No thank you,” you replied, barely above a whisper. 

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he’d never heard those words before. “What?” His mouth hung agape. 

“I said no. I’m just not interested.” You replied, this time more sternly. 

Scotty scoffed, surely attempting to conceal his bruised ego. He stomped his way down the hallway like a toddler. “Ugly bitch.” You could hear him mutter as he grew further away. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your shocked laughter. You turned back around. Charlie was gone from his spot. A stupid smile plastered on your face as you entered film club. If Anderson truly felt that way, he would’ve never made an attempt to come onto you in the first place. You found your seat next to Kirby and looked up at Charlie, believing he’d be laughing with you too over the situation, only he didn’t seem amused at all. He wouldn’t even look up to meet your eyes. 

His cold shouldered treatment continued into the next week as well. You figured things would just be as they were before as the last bell rang that following Monday. Before you had the chance to grab your things, Charlie had brushed past you, disappearing into the crowd of students in the hall. 

You weren’t sure why it hurt your feelings so much. He didn’t owe you anything. You were perfectly capable of making it to the club without him. But still, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as the next few days unfolded in the same way. He’d barely look at you, let alone speak to you. You were trying to wrap your head around why he was acting this way. You had done anything wrong to your knowledge, but then again, maybe you had. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the matter, though. You had no idea what to say to him. 

That following Friday, during your second to last period, your biology teacher announced the outline for the first heavily graded project of the semester. It was a group project. He’d assign the groups and specific topics each trio would be required to present. The classroom mumbled and huffed at the announcement. 

You listened carefully as the teacher made his way down the list of students he held in his hands. You glanced around the room as the group of prospective partners grew smaller. You hoped you would be paired with people you at least vaguely knew.

The teacher then called your name. Your head snapped to meet his finger dragging across the list he held in his right hand. You waited intently for the next names to be called. 

“You’ll be in a group with Mercer and Walker. Your topic is genetic pedigree.” You sunk down in your seat. Eyes flashing towards Robbie, who gave you a smile and thumbs up. You couldn’t bring yourself to look towards Charlie, who sat beside him. 

You dropped your head into your hands, letting your hair cover your face. You knew you’d have to muster the courage to say something to Charlie. The project was important, and you didn’t want any made-up qualms to affect the way you all worked together. 

As class concluded, Robbie stopped you in the Hallway. You watched Charlie walk past without looking behind him or waiting for his friend. You followed his frame carefully until losing him as he turned down the hall. 

“Hey, if it’s alright, could I grab your number?” Robbie asked. You’d nearly forgotten he was standing there. “For the project, of course. We’ll have to work on it outside of school, and just if you- or I, have any questions..” You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of red. 

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course Robbie, yeah, that makes sense.” 

“Awesome!” He sighed in relief, handing you his cellphone to type in your contact information. “See you in film club?”

You nodded again, watching Robbie turn on his heels and vanish into the crowd of students headed towards their next class. 

Your last class of the day felt like torment, the minutes passed by so incredibly slowly. It seemed as though the second hand on the clock was frozen in place as you waited and listened for each tick it made. 

You could feel eyes stuck to you as you sat, unfurling the hem of your sweater. You glanced behind you. Charlie met your eyes, he was mimicking your own movements, heel tapping on the floor below him. 

He looked absolutely miserable, pained even. He looked down at the ground as your eyes lingered for just a moment longer. You suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Maybe there was something going on with him completely outside of school, outside of you, and you had been so entirely selfish to believe his change in demeanor was a direct result of anything you had done. 

You sat at your desk now braiding, unbraiding, and rebraiding the same three strands of hair near the front of your face. How could you have not attempted to reach out to him sooner? You felt like an absolutely sorry excuse for an acquaintance, let alone a friend. 

You had your belongings packed and together before the final bell rang, you’d make sure to catch him this time. As soon as the clock rang to dismiss the class, you were up from your seat, headed to the doorway to catch him in the hall. 

He was quick to step past you, head fixated on the crowd in front of him. You worked faster, grabbing the strap of his backpack and pulling him through the doorway of an empty adjoining classroom. 

He looked shocked as he spun to face you, his mouth held agape, before snapping his lips into a tight line.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, surprised even by your own hasty actions. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted them. What’s wrong with you? Really? There wasn’t a better way for you to ask what was going on? You silently scolded yourself. 

“What?” He asked, taking an immediately defensive tone, understandably so. 

“I mean, what is going on with you? Is everything okay? You’ve gone through quite the effort to act like I don’t exist this past week.” You replied, amending your original question. 

He looked you over, scoffing. You brought your hands up over your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. 

“Look, if it’s attention you’re looking to get from somebody, don’t bother me about it.” He spoke just above a whisper, as if he could barely get his own words out. 

His words made your eyes prick up. You felt your body heat flush as your jaw grew increasingly tense. What was wrong with him? His glare faltered for a moment, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I just mean…” He paused before continuing, “you’ve got Anderson. I don’t understand why you’d want me around.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, realizing he hadn’t stuck around till the end of the conversation you had with Scotty the week prior. This was really the reason he had become so cold towards you? It was ridiculous. He was so-

You couldn’t hold back the astonished laughter, the absolute nerve. Charlie’s expression morphed into confusion. He seemed almost hurt to have you laughing in his face. Good. 

“You really thought I wanted anything to do with that asshole? I didn’t even give him my number.” You exclaimed, throwing your hands back towards your thighs. 

Charlie’s face bore the full front of sudden guilt. Your hurt turned to anger. He could’ve asked, but he just assumed. Even then, what issue could he possibly take with you speaking to or seeing another man? 

You took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. Charlie took a deep breath, eyes glancing between you and the pointer finger you now dug into his chest. 

“I thought you were a friend, you fucking prick.” You whispered just beside his ear. You could feel his heartbeat wildly pound against your finger, could nearly hear it from the proximity you shared. Or maybe that was your own heart you were hearing. You couldn’t have been sure. 

Before giving him a chance to respond, you stormed your way out of the room. Making a beeline to your car. 

Fuck. Fuck that stupid fucking film club. And fuck Charlie Walker. 

You sped home, slamming the front door behind you. You rushed up the stairs, hearing your aunt call your name from the living room. You stopped in your tracks, shouting down to her, “I’m fine, I promise. Just need a moment alone.” 

You waited for a second to hear her response. You were surprised she was home from work so early. After a few moments, Irina responded, “Okay.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced, but knew better than to pry. 

You shut your bedroom door, falling flat onto your bed. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. You didn’t need him around. 

An hour passed by, and then another before you heard your phone ringer buzz twice.

You scrambled for your phone, which was still in your bag on the ground beside your bed where you had thrown it earlier. 

Two text messages from an unknown number flashed on the screen.

“Hey, didn’t see you in film club. Everything good?” Your heart skipped in your chest. Could it be-? Your question was answered by the second message. “Robbie btw.”

You sighed, rolling onto your back, holding the phone above your face. You thought for a moment before responding. “Wasn’t feeling well, all good, though.” You added Robbie’s name to his contact info before setting the phone down beside you. 

Another minute passed before your phone buzzed again. “Cool. Would you be down to meet up later to start on our project?” Robbie’s message read.

You thought about it for a moment. The idea didn’t seem particularly great, but it would be nice to just get it all over with. You responded with a simple, “Sure.”

Almost instantly, a new message was sent. You opened it to find another phone number beside Robbies. In a new group chat Robbie asked, “Where and what time do you guys wanna meet up?” The other number had to be Charlies. You rolled your eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard as you thought up a response. You knew Irina would be more than happy to host, and it’d save you a trip from going elsewhere in town.

“My place, 7pm?” You replied. 

“We’ll be there.” Robbie responded. 

You sent your address to the pair and locked your phone, shoving it in your back pocket. 

You figured it was time to face your aunt, let her know people would be coming by the house later. You called out to her, hearing her reply from her bedroom. You stopped in her doorway, watching her pack clothing into a small black suitcase.

“Where are you going?” You asked, walking up beside her. 

She looked up from her work. “I have a few meetings in Sacramento this weekend. I fly out tomorrow morning. I should be back by Monday though.” You nodded your head in response. She was always so busy, always had places to be. 

“I’m sorry for slamming the door earlier.” You said quietly, picking up a t-shirt on the bed and folding it over for her. 

Your aunt looked over at you, waiting to see if you’d continue. 

“I’m okay. I just-” You paused, trying to find the right words. The entire thing wasn’t really worth getting into or being upset about, as you thought about it.

Irina’s eyebrow raised. “Boy troubles?” She said half-jokingly.

You smiled then, handing her the folded shirt. Yes, to put it plainly, just boy troubles.

“You know what I think about men,” Irina began.

“Better off without them.” You answered in unison, laughing with one another. 

You stopped in the doorway, hand wrapped around the frame as you left Irina’s bedroom. “Oh, by the way, I’m having a few people over in a couple of hours to work on a project for school. If that’s okay, of course.” 

Irina peered over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. “Of course. Let me know if you kids need anything.” 

It was hard to keep your nerves in check as the next few hours passed by. It would be fine, you reminded yourself over and over again. It wasn’t going to just be you and Charlie. Robbie would serve as a much needed buffer. 

You heard your phone buzz on your nightstand; you picked it up quickly, reading the message aloud. “Pulling up now.” You quickly made your way down the stairs, kicking a pair of your shoes further down the entryway.

You swung the front door open without recalling whether you had heard a knock yet. You were met by Robbie and Charlie on the front porch. Charlie’s head was towards the ground, his hands in his pocket. Robbie looked around himself, mouth agape. 

“You were totally right dude,” Robbie said, elbowing his friend in the side. “This was her house.” 

“What?” You asked from the doorway, not sure you had heard him right. Robbie looked flustered, as if he were surprised to see you standing there. 

“Oh. I meant Charlie recognized you on the first day.” Robbie tried to clear the confusion by simply adding to it. You looked between the pair. Robbie immediately cowered in response to Charlie’s shocked glare. 

You waited for Robbie to continue. You couldn’t possibly understand what he meant by that. To your knowledge, you had never met either of them before that first day of school. 

“Charlie’d make me ride circles down your street for hours. He said you had to be the same girl we saw when we were kids. We totally thought you just died one day after you stopped appearing in the window every summer.” Robbie said laughing, pointing at the sun bay window. 

You were frozen in place; the air seemed to be sucked out around you as you thought hard back on those memories. Certain things suddenly started to click and piece themselves together in your mind. You glanced over at Charlie. He was looking at you almost pathetically, knowing there was nothing he could have done to stop Robbie from spilling any of that information. 

Robbie began a string of ‘I’s and Um’s’ as he noticed your expression. You willed yourself to pull it together for a moment; lesson the deafening, horrible ringing in your ears.

“Oh, I think I remember you two, actually.” You stated. You had always had a distinct memory that fell in line with Robbie’s sentiment. You weren’t sure you’d have ever been able to place them both in that memory without Robbie’s over-share. You’d let yourself process this information at a later time. You watched as both boys relaxed a bit more into themselves, awkward glances still passed between the three of you.

“Would you guys like to come in?” You stepped aside, motioning towards the entryway. 

“Please.” Robbie replied and stepped past you. 

Charlie nodded, following behind him. You caught and held his gaze for a moment as he slipped in so close beside you. 

“We can just hang out in the living room, if that’s cool.” You said, motioning towards the living room couch. The two men followed suit. You took a seat on the sofa, Robbie sat on the opposite end, while Charlie took a seat on the floor by the coffee table in front of you. 

It was quiet for a moment as everyone pulled out their laptops, notebooks, and pens. You weren’t sure who would be the first one to break the silence. To be completely honest, you didn’t mind it. You were terrified that Robbie would somehow dig himself another hole, and you had absolutely nothing to say to Charlie. You hoped you’d be able to just get the majority of the project finished tonight so that the remaining meetings would be minimal. 

Just then, you heard your aunt’s light footsteps coming from down the stairs. You sighed a heavy sigh of relief as she entered the living room. She wore a bright smile on her face as the boys rose to their feet to greet her. 

“Robbie Mercer.” He held out a hand to her. “Good to meet you, Robbie.” She replied in her usual sing-song voice.

Her smile faltered for a moment as she turned to shake Charlie’s hand as well. “Charlie Walker, thanks for allowing us over.” Charlie said, giving her a courteous smile. 

You looked between your aunt and Charlie, watching the corner of her lips twitch into a small frown before she replied. She looked almost off kilter. You took careful notice of your aunt’s unusual etiquette. “Anytime, Charlie.” She replied, placing her left hand over their conjoined right hands. 

The gesture didn’t seem to phase Charlie much. 

“If there’s anything I can get for you all, please don’t be afraid to ask.” Irina spoke before heading back up the stairs. The three of you responded in a short chorus of ‘thank you’s.’ 

The next few hours went by as well as you could have hoped for them to go. Once you were all busy at work, the awkwardness slowly dispelled itself. It was nearly midnight, and you were all beginning to experience the early stages of screen fatigue from your work. You all mutually decided to try to wrap everything up tomorrow. 

As you led the two out, Robbie spoke over his shoulder. “I honestly think it’ll only take another day to finish this. Maybe one more after that for revision.” You and Charlie both nodded. “But, honestly, if I have looked at another fucking punnet square after this project, I think I’ll kill myself.” 

You laughed as you turned the door handle. 

The boys filed onto the porch. Robbie was quick to make his way towards his car that was parked halfway in the driveway and halfway onto the street. He stopped after realizing Charlie was still standing on the porch. You glanced between the pair.

“You coming man?” Robbie asked, fishing for his keys in his back pocket.

You watched Charlie, waiting for his response. 

“Nah, I feel like walking.” He responded. 

Robbie cocked an eyebrow, looking at his friend. He seemed slightly surprised, but didn’t bother trying to convince him to come along. 

“Alright, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Robbie said, as he opened his driver’s side door. You watched him pull all the way down the street before turning around to face the closed front door. Your hand had just started turning the handle when you heard Charlie speak up.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You turned your face, dropping the handle. 

You really had almost no interest in anything he had to say at all, at this point. 

“Make it quick.” You replied, stepping in front of him. Your words clearly hurt him, and he did little to hide his grimace. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” He started softly, eyes flickering between your own. You sucked in your bottom lip, leaning on your hip as you crossed your arms in front of you. You scanned his face in search of sincerity. 

“It’s fine, Charlie. It’s done with.” You replied.

He took a step closer to you. You fought the urge to take another back, to keep just a bit more distance from him. You held your ground.

“No, I’m being serious. It was horrible for me to just assume…” his voice trailed off for a moment. He glanced behind you at the window bay to your left. He met your eyes again. “And the whole attention thing. I never really felt that way. Regretted it as soon as I said it.” His hand flexed at his side as he shook his head. 

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly. It was all you wanted him to say. You both stood there for a moment. The sound of crickets filled the air. There always seemed to be something filling in the lapse of conversation you had with Charlie, in a way you had never noticed with anyone else before. 

You were the one to speak up. “I can give you a ride home if you’d like.” 

A small smile crept up his lips as he followed your gesture towards your car parked in the driveway. 

“It’s alright. Thank you for the offer. I just live on the next street over.” He motioned towards the road. 

“It’s really not any trouble…” you began. You weren’t sure why you felt such a need to insist. 

He reached up then. His thumb ran across the small braid in your hair that had been forgotten about and left to slowly unravel since last period. You left out a breath of surprise at the sudden contact. He was so incredibly close. That pounding in your heart returned rapidly as your hands dropped to your side. 

Your eyes darted wildly across the features of his face. His eyes were stuck on those strands of hair between his fingers. 

There were no more crickets, no rushing blood, just silence. 

He had pulled away before you could process the proximity. He was headed down the front porch steps in a matter of seconds. “Goodnight, I’ll see you here tomorrow.” He called, turning over his shoulder to say goodbye. 

You refused to let yourself watch him make his way down the street. Your feet carried you mindlessly up the stairs until collapsing you onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, reaching for the disheveled braid. Your fingers traced themselves along the same spot he had. You had just about pulled the braid apart when your aunt called your name from the doorway. 

You shot up in bed to face her, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Didn’t mean to surprise you,” Irina began. Her face was splotchy and red in ways that it never was. “I just wanted to tell you goodbye, in case I didn’t get the chance to before I left in the morning.”

You nodded in response. You rose onto your feet, walking over to give her a hug. You pulled away as she began to speak up again. “He looks so much like him.” Irina seemed to say more to herself than you. 

“Hmm?” You urged her to explain what she meant. 

“The Walker boy. He looks so much like his father had at that age.” She began trailing off, looking at the wall behind you before meeting your eyes again.

“You knew his father?” You asked. This shouldn’t have been surprising information to you, Irina seemed to know everybody who had spent any amount of considerable time in Woodsboro. 

Irina nodded. 

“Just be kind to him, if you can be.” She said so softly, you barely caught her last words. This took you aback. You were sure your confusion was apparent on your face. “It’s only been a few years since he passed. I’m sure it’s been difficult for Charlie.”

Her amending statement made your heart sink low into your chest. A resounding buzz quickly filled the space between your ears. 

“I am.” You replied. You thought you were, at least. 

Irina nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. She turned to make her way to her own bedroom at the end of the hall. Just before she disappeared through the door, you called out to her.

“How? How did he die?” You asked. You immediately felt bad for even asking. It wasn’t necessarily anything you needed to know. 

You could tell, even from where you stood, that your aunt’s eyes began to well with tears. “Suicide,” she whispered without looking back at you. It only took a single moment before Irina stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood stuck in the hallway. It was a horribly long night. 

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 15

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 15: The Widow

Chapter Summary: Contemplation.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, suicidal thoughts and planning, intrusive thoughts, grief, swearing, alcohol use, uncertainty, parker, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, paranormal/spooky elements, food

Notes: Chapter title from “The Widow" by The Mars Volta. This is the peak of angst in this story, I promise. Pleaaaaaase be mindful of the trigger warnings above. Big big thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading 🖤✨ OK THANKS FOR READING YALL LOVE U SORRY IF ITS A BUMMER.

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As far back as you can remember, you hated the dark. 

The uncertainty of what it contained would keep you up for hours in your childhood bedroom. 

Your mind ran rampant, imagining all kinds of insidious creatures lurking in the shadows. Beneath your bed, in the corners, behind your closet door, outside your window. Watching, waiting for you to fall asleep. 

At some point you started sleeping with the lights on. Your parents got you a nightlight in an attempt to curtail this behavior, but it wasn’t enough. There were still shadows. You were still cloaked in darkness with the monsters. All this did was begin a new ritual, where you waited until they went to bed before turning on the lights. 

One night, after you heard your parents’ bedroom door click shut, you scurried over to the light switch and flipped it up. The overhead light came to life, flooding the room in safety. Relief.  

By the time you crawled back into bed, your dad opened the door and peeked into the room. He looked between you and the overhead light, sighing, “Louella, we talked about this.” 

“Don’t turn the light off.” 

“Why not?”

Even then it felt silly. The answer stuck to the inside of your throat, hot and buzzing. Instead of letting it out, you burrowed beneath the covers and curled up into yourself. 

The floorboards creaked as your dad made his way across the room. He sat on the edge of your mattress and rubbed your back, comforting you. 

“Sweet pea,” he cooed, peeling back your Lion King comforter to expose your face, “It’s not good for you to sleep with the lights on all the time.” 

At this, you pouted at your blanket, fiddling with the frayed edges. 

“The dark is scary, isn’t it?”

You nodded. 

“What’s so scary about it?”

You shrugged. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, then glanced around the room, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Most everyone is afraid of the dark at some point or another. You know why?” 

Another shrug. 

“In the light, we have certainty. We can look over in that corner and see with our own eyes there’s no boogeyman there. It’s just a corner. Done deal. The dark… that’s trickier, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the monsters you believed would manifest in the black abyss and swallow you whole. 

“You’re safe here, though. I promise. It’s just you in here. There’s nothing hiding in the dark. The corner is just a corner. All that’s under your bed is dust. In your closet, it’s just clothes.” 

“Can you check?” 

He chuckled, but granted your request, lowering himself to the ground to peek under your bed, telling you, “Nothing under here,” then climbed to his feet and strode over to your closet, pulling the door wide open so you could see the proof yourself. 

“All clear,” he said as he closed it and returned to your bedside, “Does that help?”

You nodded, casting your gaze down to your lap. A lingering feeling of dread still sat heavy in your stomach. His gaze stayed trained on you, obviously unconvinced. 

Eventually you asked, “But what if we just don’t see it now? What if it sneaks?”

Your voice felt tiny, meek. 

His shoulders deflated with a sigh. He scooted closer and petted your hair, holding eye contact when he countered, “Your brain is trickier than the dark ever will be. It makes you see things that aren’t there. Unless you believe it’s safe, you’ll never be able to rest.” 

He was right, you suppose. 

Rest only really found you when you trusted the lights’ promise that nothing would hurt you when it vanished. Even when the light broke its promise. Even when your dad went to the ER and returned in a box.

You tried to believe that your family would live on without him. That he would still somehow keep you safe. 

But he didn’t. 

Neither did your mother. 

Your mother cut the power and made you fend for yourself.

You learned that the only way to ensure nothing would hurt you was to make sure the room was vacant before deadbolting the door. To lock the windows and draw the blinds. You sharpened your teeth into fangs. You developed night vision and grew claws, and you hid so well you thought nothing could find you. 

Sure, it was dark. 

But the abyss had only one occupant, you knew that as fact. 

Sure, your skin ached to feel the sunlight. 

But you were safe. 

You’re not sure when it happened, but sooner or later, you swore you could see shapes shifting in the pitch black. When you laid in bed at night, you could hear something in the walls. The faint, dry scratch of nails on plaster. 

It sneaks. 

The thing became clearer over time. Bloated, purpled skin. Limbs that popped and groaned when it crept around just beyond your reach. It carried the stench of rot, putrid and sulphuric. 

Deep down in your guts, you understood the horrible truth. 

It was you. 

A part of you, anyway. Something that lived and died inside you, stillborn into the darkness just to haunt you. 

Then there was Ethan. 

Brash and charming, he took a sledgehammer to your walls and yanked you from your hiding place. Sunshine poured into the dark, dank room, soaking you in brightness. 

At first you were terrified. 

It overwhelmed your senses. 

Your eyes, having long forgotten how to operate in the light, burned in reaction. You clamped them closed for fear of going blind. It felt so warm you thought you might melt. Ethan’s honeyed words seemed like loudspeakers compared to the quiet echo of your breathing. To the faint, hoarse whisper of your monster. 

It took some time to acclimate to this long-forgotten brightness. But once you did, it felt incredible. You couldn’t believe you hid from it for so long. 

Together, you understood that with light, comes shadows. He had a monster who crept after nightfall, too. Sometimes you’d wake to the soft caress of its nails on your cheek, to his sour, putrid breath gurgling in your ear, “I will be the death of you,” like a promise. 

You came to trust its keeper, though. You believed it wouldn’t tear you apart, like yours wouldn’t Ethan.  

That is the promise of love, after all, isn’t it? 

To cherish one’s light so much that you’ll endure their dark? To love even the most haunted, grotesque parts of someone? Even their monsters? Even their ghosts? 

To trust that you can rest your weary bones in the dark without it destroying you? 

You believed this for so long. Bright years filled with joy and laughter and love, where you felt alive and trusted him. In those years, you forgot a very important fact:

 It sneaks. 

The fireplace lets out a sharp POP, drawing your attention away from the pitch black window. 

A smoldering log at the bottom of the hearth collapses. The fire shifts, birthing fresh flames that breathe hot against your cheeks. 

You pull the quilt snug around your supine body and huddle deeper into the couch, into the warmth of your body heat. 

When you called your mother-in-law yesterday and explained what was happening, that you needed a place to stay for a few days while you figure out what to do, she graciously granted your request to use their cabin out in the Sierra Nevada foothills, but warned you the place was winterized and had no central heating. 

“I don’t know what condition it’s in, nobody’s been out there since August. There’s quite a bit of firewood by the fireplace and out by the woodshed, use as much as you need. Electricity is on, but no internet and cell service is shoddy. You’ll need to get the water going, too—you know, why don’t you give me or Adam a call once you’re out there, we can walk you through it.” 

“Is there a landline? I don’t have my phone.” 

“Sure is.” 

“Ok, I’ll call you when I get there.” 

“Stop and get some groceries in town, too, there’s that grocery store—”

“Yeah, I remember,” you interrupted, eyes darting to the departures board, “I have to go, my bus is gonna be here soon. Thank you so much, Sarah.”

You could feel it coming within one second of the quiet hesitation that followed. 

“Lou, I just want to make sure…” 

Don’t ask. Please don’t ask. 

“Are you ok, honey?”

Fuck. 

Your face crumbled. Emotion clogged your throat. Tingles worked up your chest, behind your eyes, and you squeezed them shut to suffocate the tears. 

“Yeah,” you managed to tell her, your voice wavering with bullshit, “I just, um… I just need a few days. To get myself together, you know.” 

“Alright. Well, will you call me when you get there?”

“Yep,” you sniffled, “Talk to you then, bye.” 

Before she could respond, you returned the receiver to its cradle, ending the call, then took a moment to gather yourself before picking your toppled-over suitcase up off the ground and finding your bus.

The ride to Fresno was long. You spent most of it staring out the window, not really looking at anything in particular, just lost in your noisy head. 

At the Fresno Bus Station, you talked to three different cab drivers before finding one who agreed to bring you all the way out here. 

He made a few attempts at small talk, asking how your day was going and if you were on vacation and so on, but quickly picked up on your not-so-chatty vibes and let the cab go quiet. 

As he drove on, palm trees were replaced by threadbare ash trees, soon joined by evergreens. The hills became steeper. Swathes of rock broke through the earth’s soft surface, more and more with each mile. 

You asked him to stop in the town closest to your in-laws’ cabin. He kept the meter running while you bought a meager supply of groceries, figuring you only needed a few days worth, if that. 

Then the yellow taxi cab then drove deep into the forest, turning off on a low-maintenance dirt road that made the car jostle and rumble. 

When you came around a curve, and the mailbox labeled FRIEDMAN came into view, you instructed him to drop you off there. 

“Are you sure? I can take you down the driveway, no problem,” he insisted. 

You could have explained that the gravel driveway was in poor condition and you didn’t want him to break down or something. Imagine that. Drive a girl to the middle of a goddamn forest and wind up getting stuck out there. What a fucking nightmare. For both of you, really. 

“I’m sure,” you said, flashing him a weak smile as you handed him the remaining money from your wallet, “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he looked down at the bundle of cash, but he took it, giving you a nod of thanks. 

“Just, um…” you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged, looping plastic grocery bags around your wrists, “If anyone comes around asking if you saw me, could you maybe… maybe you could say no?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded again, studying you for a moment before turning to open his door, “Let me get your bag for you.” 

He pulled your shitty suitcase from the trunk and handed it to you. Before returning to the driver’s seat to begin his voyage home, he paused for a few seconds, then looked at you. 

“Excuse me for asking, ma’am, but are you… well, are you… safe? Do you need me to contact anyone?”

“No.” 

The word came out sharp and final. It felt harsh leaving your lips, so you added, “I mean, you don’t need to contact anyone. I am, uhhh… cool as a cucumber. Safe… as a lock. Thanks, though.” 

You tried your hardest to give him a reassuring smile. He didn’t look like he bought it, but got in his taxi and left. 

From here, you followed the driveway into a tunnel carved out from the trees. 

The air was crisp and clear and everything seemed quiet except for the sound of you huffing and puffing down the path, leaves crunching under your feet, plastic bags rustling, your suitcase flopping around behind you like a defiant animal on a leash, fighting against each step. 

Fucking exhausting. 

About halfway, you spotted a flat boulder peeking out from the earth a few strides into the forest. You dropped your suitcase, shaking the plastic bags from your wrists, and blundered through the trees towards it. Your rubber legs ached with relief when you sat down criss-cross applesauce on the cool stone. Catching your breath, you leaned back and tilted your face up towards the canopy. A breeze rattled through the pines and ashes and cooled your cheeks. 

You spent some time here, stretched out on the boulder, admiring the contrast of the dark, rheumatic branches stretched out towards the powder-blue sky. When your labored breathing calmed, the quiet sounds of the forest started to come into focus. Leaves rustling. Birds warbling. The whistle of wind.

It felt nice. 

Peaceful.

Eventually, you heaved yourself to your feet and resumed your journey. You walked and walked, legs and wrists and arms aching, body and mind sapped of energy, until the tree line opened up into a clearing. 

The cabin came into view, and a bone-deep sense of nostalgia struck you. 

You remembered the first time Ethan brought you here, the summer after you started dating. Everything seemed to pulse with life. The trees, glowing green with leaves. The roaring river in the background. Ethan. The future, in general. 

What’s the word for the kind of nostalgia that guts you? The kind that feels like a 30-pound weight in your stomach? The kind that shreds your heart to pieces in your chest? 

That’s exactly what you felt when you saw the cabin. 

It looked cold. Dead. 

The inside felt no different. Everything was dark. Cool, still air bit your cheeks. Canvas was draped over all the furniture. It smelled of dust and damp and better times. 

You dropped your belongings to the entryway floor, collapsing in a heap among them, then cried your eyes dry.

Once you gathered yourself, you found the phone to call Sarah. 

She walked you through the ins-and-outs of making the cabin habitable. How to turn the water back on and get the fireplace going. Gave you permission to use whatever you want or need… which, so far, is just some firewood, a quilt from the cedar linen closet, and this couch. 

You blink your bleary eyes a few times, before looking back to the window. The world outside has lightened. Frosted trees stand out in the rich, Neptunian veil of morning, every branch appearing lacy and crystalline, important and beautiful. 

Have I slept? Or did I sit here all night, staring into the abyss?

“Fuck it,” you sigh to yourself as you sit upright, “Might as well make some coffee.” 

Ding

The elevator doors slide open.

Dieter follows Parker onto the fifth floor hallway of your apartment building. 

As he walks down the familiar hallway like he has so many times before, a guttural, foreboding feeling builds in his veins. 

The sensation is unbelievably heavy, but hollow. Knight’s armor. A church bell. The barrel of a gun. 

It reminds Dieter of the first time he came here, when he sensed Ethan’s presence on the other side of that door. 

“Hopefully the landlord didn’t change the locks,” Parker says as he flips through his keychain, isolating one labeled LOU. The key slides in without protest. Parker pushes the door open and enters the apartment, Dieter hot on his heels.  

When Parker flips the light on, the state of your apartment makes Dieter’s stomach drop. 

Ransacked is the first word that comes to mind. 

Every drawer and cupboard in your kitchen sits ajar, their contents disorganized or spread across the countertop. The couch and chair cushions are all discombobulated. Dirt tracks dried into the white carpet trace the heavy flow of boots that moved in and out of the apartment. It looks like every surface of the place has been perverted. 

Dieter crouches down to set an overturned cubby upright, shoving a pile of your hats and scarves and gloves back into their rightful place, muttering, “Fucking pigs.”

A leopard print pattern catches his eye, and he plucks out a scarf, draping it around his neck before returning the container to its home. 

“Pigs is right,” Parker snorts, slamming closed cupboards and drawers, “This place is a fuckin’ stye. I’m glad she’s not here to see this.”

Dieter rubs the soft fabric between his fingers and brings it to his nose, inhaling your scent. A freshly-baked smell that prods his tender heart. He stands and starts towards the kitchen, but freezes when he notices the door to Ethan’s room is open. His eyes flick from Parker, totally preoccupied with reassembling the kitchen, then back to the doorway. 

Curiosity gnaws at his insides. 

He approaches it, trying to act casual despite his pounding heart. At the threshold, he pauses to peak inside, not entirely surprised to see the room exactly as he pictured it. 

Well, mostly, anyway. 

No file cabinet or deep freezer, but open spaces where he thought they’d be. Taken as evidence, probably. Empty file folders are strewn across the desk. But the navy blue walls, the hardwood floor, the mirrors… all there. 

That horrible, palpable emptiness, like loss on loss on loss… that’s there, too. 

He glances over his shoulder at Parker, still distracted, then looks back into the room. When he steps through the doorway, a rush of adrenaline spikes his pulse. 

Why are you here?

Dieter cautiously wanders over to the desk and starts picking up the empty file folders, halting when he finds a sketchpad beneath one. 

He flips through the book of abstract black-ink illustrations. Some of them scribbles, some exquisite, some in-between. All of them saturated with emotion. Hopelessness. Guilt. Anger. Grief. Frustration. Every time he turns a page, a new sensation strikes him. Shame. Resentment. Suspicion. A whole dictionary of dark emotions. 

Scattered throughout, though, he finds a few that feel… not lighter, per se, but different. They feature negative space and soft curves. Clean lines and chaos. Love. 

They’re you. 

Of course they’re you, love. Of course you were his light in the darkness. A brightness carved out of soot and rot. 

A fond smile creeps across his lips. 

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Dieter looks to one of the mirrors and asks, “Can I take this with me? To give to her?” 

Yeah, sure. 

“Thanks,” he nods and tucks the book into his coat pocket, glancing over his shoulder before quietly inquiring, “Any chance you know where she is?”

Not here.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter thinks. He jumps a little when he hears the response crystal clear in his head. 

Well then why the fuck’re you here? You’re wasting time. 

“Me? What about you? Didn’t you move on from this place?”

After this, Ethan goes quiet. 

Dieter shrugs and looks away from the mirror to study the framed photos on the wall. Photos of Ethan with, who Dieter assumes are, his kids. None of them recent. The vast majority of the pictures feature you. 

You and Ethan kissing on your wedding day. The two of you posing somewhere with mountains in the background, drinking on a beach, dancing at a party. Each one depicts big, genuine smiles. The adoration you had for each other is evident. 

As the successor to your heart, maybe he should feel a twinge of jealousy, but he doesn’t. He actually finds it sweet. It fills him with warmth to know you spent a long while being well-loved. 

The wall of photos displays relics from Ethan’s youth, too. 

Graduation photos, family vacations, a bar mitzvah. Dieter picks up on something. A distinct before and after. He stops on a picture of Ethan as a child, hugging a younger boy—his brother, Benji—by a lake, and it starts to come together. Although he can’t quite pinpoint the defining line, it splits him in two and fractures into shards. 

An icy cold rush overtakes his body, like the word gave out from under him and he’s suddenly submerged in freezing water. He can’t breathe. He can’t scream. Feral, panicked energy pulses through his veins. His concrete limbs can’t move, paralyzed as he sinks, deeper, deeper, deeper…

Dieter returns to himself with a jolt, gasping for air. 

He takes a step back and slumps over, pressing his palms into his knees as he pants, “What the fuck, man? What the fuck?” 

You need to find her before it’s too late. 

Red bubbles up his chest.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he sits up, jaw clenched, fists balled, and steps into the through-line of the mirrors. They reflect off one another to form a long, curved tunnel that stretches out on either side of him. Dieter looks from one mirror, to the other, seeing his image captured within each infinite layer. 

“Fuck you, man,” he seethes, shaking his head, “You fucking did this, you know that? Fucking piece of shit. I’m fucking trying, ok?” 

The last sentence comes out hoarse and thick. Heat works up his throat and his vision blurs with tears. 

“Whoa—hey, Dieter,” Parker runs into the room, all wide-eyed and searching Dieter’s face, “What’s wrong?” 

A sob heaves his shoulders. He hangs his head, shaking it from side-to-side, “I’m trying, Parker.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling Dieter into a hug, reassuring him, “We’re gonna find her.” 

“What if we don’t?”

“We will. Keep that faith, papi. We will.” 

Dieter buries his face in Parker’s bony shoulder, releasing the pent-up worry and guilt festering infectious in his chest for the past day. Parker pets his hair and rocks him back and forth, letting out a few of his own sniffles alongside Dieter’s. 

When their crying starts to peter out, Parker gives him one more squeeze and pulls back, asking, “You wanna get out of here? This place is a fucking mess, and we gotta catch that flight soon anyway.“

“Can I look in her room first?” 

Parker’s eyebrows knit together over bloodshot eyes, and he nods, patting his friend on the shoulder before stepping aside. 

Dieter approaches your bedroom cautiously. Paranoid thoughts circulate in his brain, all those what-ifs and delusions of tragedy. What if he finds you here, cold and lifeless? What if you’re dead somewhere while he pokes around your apartment, looking for clues? Is he doing enough? Could he do more? 

But when the door groans on its hinges as he pushes it open, and he sets foot inside your bedroom, the impending doom percolating in his veins drains from him almost instantly. Many of your things have been rifled through, like the rest of your apartment, but the place holds an air of serenity. 

It feels warm and safe. 

It feels like you. 

Flipping the light on, he closes the door behind him, then walks over to your bed and crawls under the covers, burying himself beneath them. 

The sheets still carry a faint whiff of sex and sleep from before the two of you embarked for LA. His lungs expand with a deep, wide breath. Eyes drifting closed, he thinks of you. How you’re feeling. Where you are. What you’re doing. 

He picks up the bite of a chilled breeze. The steady babble of a river. Warm hands. Burnt tongue. Coffee, bitter and black. 

The signal drops. 

Not much, but enough for him to know you’re not in immediate danger, which brings him some solace. 

Still under the blankets, he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings and rings until your voicemail picks up. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey doll, it’s me. I’m at your apartment. It’s a fucking mess. Parker and I stopped by before going back to LA. He’s coming with me to help… well, to help find you. Anyway. I’m in your bed. It still smells like us. It was hard for me to fall asleep last night without you. Waking up without you is… it’s hell. I don’t know. I miss you, Lua. It’s been one fucking day and I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anyone in my life. I love you. I’ll call you when I get back.” 

Despite your lack of sleep, you managed to make this morning a productive one. 

You removed the slip-cases from the furniture and dusted, then forced yourself to eat a halfway decent breakfast of buttered toast and scrambled eggs. After washing the dishes, you soaked in the tub for a while, staring up at the wood-paneled bathroom ceiling as you contemplated what to do with yourself, both in the short-term context and the long-term. 

While drying off, you noticed the bright, mid-day sun shining down into the valley, making everything glow golden. It looked inviting. 

You dug through your suitcase, sifting through the clothing you packed with a warmer climate in mind. Shorts. Dresses. Bikinis. The best you could do was a sweater and some pajama bottoms. 

Down by the riverbank, you found this creaky wooden porch swing and settled on which to sit and ponder. 

You smooth the tip of your finger along the dewy lip of the mug, breaking up a curl of steam with each lazy revolution around its circumference. 

Today is the shortest day of the year. 

The winter solstice. 

Every once in a while, wind rolls down off the snowy tips of the Sierra Nevadas and meets the warmth of the California sun. The creaky wooden bench sits square in the middle of these contradictory weather conditions. Hot and cold. Dry and damp. Constantly churning, waxing and waning from one state to another. 

A crisp gust of wind from upriver cuts through the sun-baked pocket of air where you’re seated. You huddle into your jacket and bring the steaming mug to your lips, hissing when the black coffee scorches your tongue. 

The thought of Dieter shoots through you like a bullet. 

You picture him beneath the covers of your bed, fully clothed in his furry winter jacket, wearing your scarf, eyes clenched shut, wishing you would come out of hiding because it’s safe now. 

It rattles you. 

An infinite number of memories and worries and hopes and what-ifs flood your mushy, sleep deprived brain. They all muddle together in an incomprehensible cluster fuck that sets your blood ablaze and makes your ears ring. Your body contracts, squeezing a sob from deep within your chest. 

Fuck. 

Every single ounce of you aches to see him. To smell him. To feel his arms wrapped around you and hear his voice murmuring honeyed affirmations in your ear, telling you he loves you and understands why you had to leave. 

You pray he understands that you didn’t want to. Of fucking course you didn’t want to. You had to. For his sake and for yours. 

During the FaceTime call with Parker, when you first saw the cops outside your building, then David Alterman, you could only see two paths forward: Dieter would choose you or his career. 

Would he have chosen you? Maybe, but it would have been foolish. 

He would have to support you through whatever punishment the state of New York has queued up against you—prison, probably—on top of dealing with the fallout. The public backlash, the halt of money flow, not to mention the loss of his career, which means more to him than public opinion or money. In his own words, acting is his fucking purpose in life. 

And for what? An incarcerated girlfriend? Even if you put the issue of your pending criminal charges aside, you still wouldn’t be worth that loss. 

It would be gradual, but eventually he would feel it. 

It sneaks. 

He would come to resent you, and you wouldn’t be able to fault him one bit. 

Would he have chosen his career? Maybe, but it would ruin you both. 

If he chose to break off your relationship in order to salvage his career, you would have to hear him say it. You would have to know, with certainty, that you take second place in his heart. Maybe this is a selfish notion, this desire to be his number one priority. If he didn’t choose his wife over his career, why the fuck would he choose you?

Not only that, but if he chose this path, he would have to shoulder the hardship of two broken hearts. You know he loves you. You do. Ending your relationship would devastate him. He would be plagued with guilt and shame and regret, all the same as if he chose you to begin with. 

It seemed cruel to force him to make this impossible choice. No matter what he did, it would be wrong, and he would carry the burden.

This is when you saw the third path branch out before you. 

The one where you could sneak out before the sun rises, dragging your monster by its tether behind you. Where you could lock yourself away in a boarded-up room and wait for her to take you. You, not him. 

You would rather absorb the blame, from him and everyone else, a million times over than curse him with the responsibility of this dissolution.  

This is a mercy kill. 

An act of love. 

It may not seem like it to anyone else, but really, it is. 

This thought brings you some solace. 

Another gust of wind blows shivers down your spine. You bring the mug to your lips to test the coffee’s temperature, finding it tepid, but drink it anyway. 

Dieter wasn’t sure what to expect when he came home. 

Worst case scenario, he imagined cops waiting to arrest him for bribing an elected official or tell him you turned up dead. Best case, he imagined opening the door to find you there. Problem solved. Happily ever after. He would kiss you breathless and never let you doubt your station in his life again. 

What was most likely, though—and what he found—was something in the wide gray area between his paranoia and hopeless romanticism. 

Lincoln was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through TikTok on his phone, while Darlene sat at the dining room table, typing away on her laptop. 

Although he tried to keep an open mind the whole way here, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Here he was, exhaustion burning his bones to dust, expecting some kind of a celebration, only to find out this was a checkpoint, not a finish line. 

Lincoln and Darlene both perk up at the sound of the door opening. They both rise from their respective places to greet Dieter and Parker. 

“Hey, welcome back!” Lincoln calls as he grabs Dieter’s suitcase, “How was your flight?”

“Fine,” he grunts, then nods to Parker, “This is Parker. Parker, this is my PA Lincoln and my publicist Darlene.” 

“Former publicist,” Darlene corrects, shaking Parker’s hand, “Nice to meet you.” 

Parker gives her a polite smile and a nod to her and Lincoln and tells them, “Thanks for your help.” 

“Want me to take your suitcase?” Lincoln asks Parker, dark blonde eye brows raised in expectation. 

“I’ve got it, love,” Parker waves him off with a dismissive hand, then turns to Dieter, “Where do you want me?” 

Before he can answer, Lincoln cuts in, “Here, I’ll show you to the open guest room.” 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Parker’s mouth. He shrugs, “Lead the way, pretty boy.” 

Even in the dim illumination of the waning daylight, Dieter sees Lincoln’s cheeks flush pink. He grins and starts off down the hall. Before following, Parker looks at Dieter, raising a mischievous brow as he glances between him and Lincoln, mouthing, “Cute.” 

“Any updates?” Dieter asks Darlene as he slides off his crocs and starts towards the kitchen. 

“Well,” she sighs, crossing her arms, tilting her head to one side, “There has been progress.” 

The way she says it sounds like the beginning of bad news. He pauses his search for food and frowns at her. Static rises in his throat. 

“And?”

She walks to the dining room table to grab her notebook, flipping back a few pages as she approaches the kitchen island and leans against it. 

“So, I was able to trace her steps to a transit station in Fresno. I went up there yesterday and talked to security. Found out she took a cab from there, but the cab company won’t disclose where they dropped her. The driver reported that she seemed… off. Said she seemed scared and was very secretive, like she was in danger or something. He thought maybe she was running from a domestic abuse situation, and requested that the company not disclose her location.” 

Dieter gapes at this, unable to formulate words. She continues. 

“She talked a few other cab drivers before this one, so I talked to them. They told me she didn’t give them an address, just said it was about sixty miles away, up in the foothills. But that’s… that’s all I was able to get. The trail runs cold there.” 

“Can’t we throw some cash at the cabbie who drove her? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it, I don’t care—” 

“I tried,” she shook her head, throwing her hands up at her sides, “I told them to name their price, they said it wasn’t about money, it was about safety.” 

Heat spikes his blood, overwhelming him with nervous energy that sets him into motion, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his neck, clenching his jaw. 

“What the fuck do we do now?”

“Do you know if she has any family or friends in that area? Maybe she mentioned something in passing—” 

“No, of course she didn’t,” he scoffs. 

Darlene doesn’t say anything. Her hazel eyes follow him from side-to-side. 

“I know her family is from Ohio, her friends are from New York. Anything else is a fucking mystery to me,” he shakes his head and stops pacing to holler, “PARKER, get in here!”

A few seconds later, he hears footfalls in the hallway, then Parker rounds the corner, blinking at him, “I know you didn’t just call for me like a fuckin’ dog.”

“Does Lua know anyone out by Fresno? In the mountains?” Darlene asks him. 

Parker frowns as he thinks about this, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Distant relatives, old friends,” Darlene glances at Dieter, “Exes, anything like that?”

Dieter glares at her, nostrils flaring, to which she defends, “We have to cast a wide net, I’m just asking.” 

Parker shakes his head again, “No. 

“What about Ethan’s family?” 

His face stays fixed in a searching expression. No glint of recognition. 

Dieter’s shoulders slump. 

Parker looks at him, brows knit together with concern, and adds, “But honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted, I might not be remembering right now.” 

They sit there for a moment, dull and disenchanted, until Darlene sighs, “Well, should we order some takeout?”

By late afternoon, the sun starts to sink down into the ragged black tree line of the far away mountains. 

Rays of light catch the atmosphere just right, casting a shimmering golden hue onto the cabin. One of these beautiful glowing beams streams through the window and manages to hit you square in the eyeballs. 

Grimacing, you flip your book belly-down onto the end table and push yourself up into a sitting position. A yawn expands your lungs. You stretch your arms above your head, then let them fall limp at your sides. 

Charred logs glow inside the fireplace. No flames. You rise to your feet and trudge over to it, swinging the grate open to slide a few more logs on the fire. They sizzle and pop as they catch heat and light ablaze. 

You look around the cozy, rustic living room, glancing at the clock on the wall, then out the window. 

Earlier today, while poking around the cabin for something interesting to take your mind off… Well, everything, you stumbled upon a small stash of homemade wine. A glass–maybe a bottle–sounds nice right now. Maybe you could make some food, too. Probably should. 

You pad across the dark lacquered floorboards to the cellar door, and push it open. Wrinkling your nose at the mildew scent, you flip the lightswitch on and tip-toe down the stairs, then across the room to the wine rack. One-by-one, you pull out the corked green glass bottles and take note of their year. A few are labeled Plum 2017. Two Strawberry 2018s. Half a dozen Red 2018s. 

One of the bottles reads White 2017. A fond smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You slip the bottle under your arm before jogging up the stairs to the main level, where you sift through Sarah’s record collection. A Frank Sinatra album catches your eye, so you put it on, then pour a glass of wine and survey your limited options for supper. 

A part of you wants to say fuck it, skip the meal. Just let your empty stomach soak up the wine. Let the tiny tendrils of alcohol branch out into your bloodstream and work its numbing magic. Maybe it’ll dim the acute pain simmering beneath your sternum. 

Then you spot the lemon on the counter, sitting beside a bulb of garlic and a blue mesh bag of onions. 

There’s pasta and olive oil in the cabinet. Parmesan in the fridge. You could make something nice with that. Maybe watch the sunset. 

I could do it tonight.

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the first time you saw him. Shifty and slightly arrogant, all blown-out pupils and twitches. Basically a red flag wearing a human suit. You thought he was handsome, though. And his booming laughter brought a real smile to your face for the first time in weeks. 

It felt familiar. 

It felt like sunshine kissing your skin after a long bout of darkness. 

Shaking the picture from your head, you start rummaging through the cupboards for a pot and saucepan. You fill the pot with water, toss in some salt. 

When you pull the chef’s knife from the butcher block, you pause to examine the blade in the golden hour light. 

I could slice my pulse open. 

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the second time you met him. Kaleidoscope skin and chartreuse aura. Acid stripped away the cocaine ego to expose his bare bones. And they were beautiful. 

Something happened that night. A tethering. A melding. Some ethereal otherworldly connection that intertwined your souls. 

Even though he was essentially a stranger, you couldn’t shake the sense that he had always been and always would be a part of you. 

Swallowing around the emotion welling up in your throat, you shake your head. Too messy. 

The thought of your own blood makes you queasy. If some has to find you like that? 

Fuck.  

Your stomach twists into nausea. 

You set down the knife and find a cutting board, then resume your dinner preparation, singing along to the music, concentrating on the mechanical motion of the blade tearing through the onion, meeting resistance with each aromatic layer. 

The goddamn knife is dull anyway. 

After mincing the garlic, you nudge your little piles of chopped-up produce into the gleaming pool of melted butter in the saucepan. Steam rises with a gentle sizzle, moisture meeting fat. 

Inside the pot, tiny ripe bubbles line the underwater walls, waiting to burst. 

Turn up the heat. 

Stir the saucepan. 

Sip your wine. 

You tap your fingers on the countertop, following the beat of the brass band, and quietly sing along with Ol’ Blue Eyes, “No one would care, no one would cry. If I should live, if I should live or die. What now, my love? Now there is nothing. Only my last, my last goodbye.” 

You picture Dieter at the beach, holding your hand as the two of you waded through the tide. The best day of your life. 

You picture him in his boxers, watering his plants. You picture his warm brown eyes flicking between you and a sketchpad. Him taking the first bite of a gooey brownie and groaning with delight. Laying behind you in the bathtub, arms wrapped around your waist underwater, planting a soft kiss on your cheek bone. Waking up in the morning, his wild dark curls all bent the shape of his pillow indent, a wistful, sleepy smirk on his lips. Laughing. Smiling. Telling you he loves you. Meaning it. 

A deep ache of shame spreads across your chest. Your stomach churns. Tears burn behind your eyes, then spill over, streaming hot down your cheeks. 

How fucking stupid are you to think the darkness wouldn’t come and swallow everything whole, Dieter included? 

What, because you’re in love, the two of you should be spared? 

Has that ever stopped her before? 

I should fucking know better. 

A far-off, high frequency noise starts in your ear and it cuts audio for a second. Everything around you seems far away. Not real. You feel spectral, like you’re dreaming or a ghost or in a tv show or something. 

Entirely fiction. 

Sniffling, you wipe your damp with the sleeve of your sweater. 

You grab the wine glass off the counter and swallow its contents, then refill it, splashing a little vino into the saucepan before setting the bottle aside. 

A roar swells as the ingredients get to know each other. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, pungent scent, then notice steam billowing off the water in your pot. The still surface has erupted into a consistent boil. You throw about half of a pound of fettuccine into the pot. More than enough, but who the fuck makes only one serving of pasta? 

While the fettuccine cooks, you pour some cream into the saucepan, then whisk and whisk and whisk, pausing periodically to stir the pasta. Once the sauce thickens,  you whisk in pre-grated parmesan a pinch at a time. You fish a strand of fettuccine out of the boiling water and confirm its al dente status, then transfer a few spoonfuls of pasta water into the sauce before pouring the pot over a colander in the sink. 

It calms you, this process. The step-by-step. Seeing the fruits of your labor unfold in real time. Each checkbox marked calms your ragged nerves more than the last. 

Before you know it, you’re curled up in an adirondack chair on the deck, quilt draped over your shoulders, twisting fettuccine around your fork as you watch the sun sink down into the mountains, turning the sky into this beautiful vivid watercolor. It’s fucking gorgeous, you’ll give it that. 

Am I really going to go through with this? 

That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? To end this? To ascend into that glowing iridescent tunnel? To cross the threshold and finally return to the sea of love?

It’s funny, you think, how your whole life you were afraid of dying because you didn’t know what came after. 

But after seeing it, you know you had it completely backwards. 

Death is a piece of cake. You weren’t scared once when it happened. It’s like the light turned on in your room and you knew there was nothing hiding in wait. Nothing sneaking. 

Life, though? 

Life is scrambling through the darkness of uncertainty, trying to find a beacon. When you make contact with them, you cling to flames, hoping they’ll burn forever to keep you safe and warm. They won’t. They always burn out. 

By the time you finish your pasta, the wine has fully assimilated into your bloodstream, drowning all the excess noise in your head. You polish off the bottle while watching the sun sink down into the Sierra Nevadas. Dusk absorbs the light. The atmosphere shifts from midnight blue to inky black, enveloping you in darkness. It doesn’t even bother you. 

Head swimming with wine, you lay out on the cold deck and stare up at the nighttime sky, littered with dazzling pinprick stars. 

They remind you of all the times you stargazed with your father, and the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars Ethan hung on the ceiling of the first bedroom you shared with him. 

They remind you of how incredibly vast the darkness is. 

How the hopeful glimmer of a star can appear so bright and so close, but really be lightyears away, in another galaxy, another life. 

Maybe the next one. 

[ Next Chapter ]

[cabin-3-counselor]

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of suicide attempts and rape

saw some people saying "i would stay in the island with calypso" and i am like she is a rapist what the fuck are you talking about???????? not to mention even if this part was not spoken out loud in the musical, she did not respect odysseus AT ALL, he said he is married, that he needs to leave and she didn't release him and continuously tried to get him in her bed to the point he felt so overwhelmed by her demands and all that happened before that he was contemplating suicide, this isn't love

calypso and antinous are one and the same in this narrative

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Three

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, parental death, BUGS: termites & bedbugs (never thought I’d type that but here we are)

A/N: I’d like to state that I’m sure AOAF happened in Grenoble but I’m a dumb American with no sense of direction or geography so Vincent lives in Paris. If you want to be added to my tag-list, just let me know. The slow burn is almost over!

The next day dawned with a sense of urgency as Leah and Vincent pulled up to Sandra's home where the reenactment was already underway. They were greeted by a scene of controlled chaos, with a dummy resembling Samuel being repeatedly tossed from the third-story window, its impact splattering crimson onto the pristine snow below. A meticulous spatter analyst, handpicked by Vincent, observed each drop with a focused intensity, recording her observations in a worn legal notebook.

Leah couldn't help but shudder at the display. "This is morbid," she whispered to Vincent as they navigated through the maze of investigators.

As the investigation unfolded, accompanied by the unrelenting drone of a repetitive tune, Vincent's frustration mounted at the treatment of his client and her son. Leah, feeling a mix of curiosity and confusion, observed the shifting dynamics with a growing sense of unease.

When Daniel's testimony suddenly veered off course upon the discovery of misplaced gaffer's tape, a ripple of anticipation swept through the room. Judge Janvier's satisfaction was palpable, but a shared glance between Vincent and Leah hinted at a deeper understanding of the looming challenges ahead.

The remainder of the day unfolded in a haze of disappointment, leaving Leah grappling with unresolved questions as she sought solace in a bottle of wine at home. The silence that had enveloped their car ride back was a comforting reassurance, a shared space where thoughts intermingled and strategies took shape in the quiet hum of contemplation.

_________________________________________

"And you're doing okay given the circumstances?" Leah's therapist's calming voice resonated from the laptop on the dining room table the next morning.

"The circumstances?" Leah called out from the kitchen, taking a sip of her freshly brewed coffee before padding back into the room to settle into the high back chair. Thankfully, both of their cameras were off, shielding June from seeing Leah's unfocused demeanor.

"The circumstances of the case," June clarified.

"I'm fine. My mom killed herself and that’s all there is to say about it. She left a detailed note. I've found closure. This man was either thrown out of a window or jumped, so it's a bit different. Not everything hits close to home, you know?" Leah replied, trying to downplay the emotional weight of the situation.

"It's important to acknowledge and respect your trauma, understand your limits, and be mindful of triggers that may affect you," June advised, her tone carrying a hint of foreboding, as if hinting at an impending breakdown.

"Sure thing. If I ever feel like taking a leap out the window, I'll give you a call. Otherwise, I'll touch base next week. Thanks, June!" Leah swiftly closed the laptop before June could interject, her attention abruptly diverted by a sharp knock on the front door.

"Can I help you?" Leah questioned as she opened the door to find a mysterious man standing there, who promptly handed her an envelope before hurriedly departing.

Perplexed, Leah shut the door and tore open the envelope, revealing “NOTICE TO VACATE" stamped on the legal document inside.

Just as she processed the unexpected notice, the doorbell chimed once more. Annoyed, Leah swung the door open, ready to confront the messenger of the unwelcome letter, only to be met by a puzzled Vincent.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Vincent inquired, his expression tinged with mild exasperation.

Confused, Leah ushered him inside and checked her phone, noticing three missed calls she had overlooked.

"I'm sorry, I thought we weren't meeting until eleven?" Leah apologized, adjusting her silk robe as she led Vincent to the kitchen table.

"Sandra was indicted an hour ago," Vincent revealed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table's surface. "Get dressed, and I'll brief you."

As Leah disappeared into the bedroom, Vincent glanced at the document she had left behind and discovered the reason for the sudden eviction: termites.

"They're kicking you out because of termites," Vincent called out, prompting a bewildered response from Leah in the other room.

"They're offering a full refund if you vacate within thirty days," Vincent continued, scanning the letter's contents.

"I'll never find a new place in my budget in such a short time," Leah lamented from the bedroom.

"You probably got a great deal on this place because of the termite issue," Vincent remarked with a chuckle.

"I figured it would have been bedbugs, honestly," Leah joked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she reappeared in the living room, fully dressed and ready to take on the day.

_________________________________________

The ride to the cafe was swift as Vincent explained the details to Leah. "The public prosecutor’s statement contained three elements in particular," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "Analyses of Samuel’s blood spatter found at the home indicate that he may have received a blunt force blow to the head before he fell from the window. The reenactment brought to light a number of discrepancies, which you are fully aware of, and there was a USB file discovered belonging to Samuel containing a recording made a couple of days before his death."

"A USB file? Have you listened to it?" Leah questioned, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Yes, and it’s…" Vincent's voice trailed off, his gaze distant. "damning."

Leah let out a measured sigh as Vincent parked the car, the weight of their conversation settling between them.

As they walked to a cafe by the water, Leah followed Vincent cautiously, her thoughts swirling with the gravity of the situation. Vincent motioned for her to sit across from him, his demeanor serious as he lit a cigarette and sorted through papers from a folder he had been carrying.

Leah placed their order, her mind distracted as she tried to recall their previous cafe visit and what Vincent had ordered specifically. Vincent sipped his coffee contentedly, multitasking with his phone pressed to his ear and papers spread out in front of him.

When Nour, Vincent's partner, arrived, she brought hopeful news. "The judge this afternoon is not Da Silva, it’s Bollène."

"I’m off to the bank. They will only do fifty thousand," Vincent explained, slipping on his coat. "Money issues and such," he added, finishing his coffee in quick gulps.

The bail hearing was tense and sterile, with the prosecuting team arguing against Sandra's release, citing concerns of potential influence on Daniel's testimony. Nour's quick thinking and persuasive arguments swayed the decision in Sandra's favor, emphasizing her role as Daniel's caregiver and the restrictions in place to prevent any tampering with his account of events.

Sandra's temporary freedom hinged on the supervision of Marge Berger, appointed to monitor her interactions with Daniel and ensure the integrity of his statements. As Sandra and Vincent drove back to the chateau, Leah faced the choice of staying in Paris or returning to the alps with Nour and Marge. Opting for the former, Leah watched as the car disappeared into the distance, knowing that the twists and turns of the case were far from over.

_________________________________________

“About your living situation,” Vincent started and glanced over at her. His arrival at her apartment later that evening was a welcomed surprise. Vincent had given Leah a clipped version of his tense ride back to the alps with Sandra over two cups of black coffee at the kitchen’s bar.

Leah sighed, “Ugh, don’t even remind me about that.”

The idea of Leah staying in a hotel, especially under such stressful conditions, didn't sit well with Vincent. An idea formed in his mind, one he hesitated to voice, unsure of how she would receive it. After a moment of internal debate, he spoke, “I have a couch bed in my apartment. It's not much, but it's comfortable and doesn’t have termites. You're welcome to stay there until you find a new place."

Leah was taken aback, her eyes widening at the offer. "Vincent, I couldn't impose. We're colleagues, and that's—"

"—Exactly why you should accept," Vincent interjected gently. The sincerity in his voice and the genuine concern in his eyes made it hard for Leah to refuse. The thought of a pest-free place to stay, even temporarily, was too comforting to pass up. "Thank you, Vincent. I... I really appreciate it. Just until I find somewhere else, I promise."

He nodded, happy to help her in her time of need.

Vincent and Leah made their way to his apartment, the weight of the day's revelations and the unexpected turn of events hanging between them. Leah, still processing Vincent's generous offer, followed him up the steps to a charming, older building nestled in a quieter part of the city.

Vincent unlocked the door and ushered Leah inside, a hint of hesitancy in his movements. "It's not much," he began, "but it's home."

Leah stepped into the apartment and was immediately struck by its warmth. The space was a reflection of Vincent himself—understated, organized, and infused with a sense of calm. A spacious living room greeted them, its walls adorned with an eclectic mix of art that hinted at Vincent's travels and interests.

"This is lovely, Vincent," Leah said, her voice genuine. "You have a beautiful home."

Vincent gave a modest shrug, leading her through to the bedroom. "Here's where you'll be staying," he said, opening the door to a cozy room bathed in the soft light of a bedside lamp. The bed was haphazardly made, and the shelves were lined with books, a testament to Vincent's love for literature.

“This is your bedroom?” Leah questioned.

“Yes,” he nodded, "I'll take the couch for a bit to give you privacy.”

“Absolutely not,” Leah interjected, “I’m the guest, so I’ll take the couch.”

“I insist,” Vincent offered and Leah let out a measured sigh. “I’ll be here for a week, tops.”

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 9: You catch more bears with honey

Words: 5k

Summary: Who knew Chicago could be so small?

a/n: Please read! I normally only add warnings for like smut, but I don't want to trigger anyone; so listen please, trigger warning: mention of suicide attempt in flashbacks and panic attacks. You have been warned.

Other than that, thank you for sticking around thus far, commenting is always appreciated and if you ever need a friend to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out ❤️‍🩹

Carmy despised many things. The sensation of burning his tongue when he tasted something in a rush, and the hard pressure over his chest every time he opened Mikey’s accounting books, were just a few. But gatherings organized by his family were definitely above everything else, especially when he had no other choice but to attend. He could think of ten things off the top of his head that he’d rather be doing on his off day than drive to his sister’s house in the suburbs and spend a whole fucking afternoon with people he didn’t give a shit about. Yet for whatever reason, instead of spending his Sunday doing something he enjoyed -like going up to the coast or testing his lungs’ capacity to hold in air while he out you out-, instead he was stuck cutting up fruit for a punch Sugar insisted that he take.

He could have easily avoided the whole situation if he had kept his fucking mouth shut, but when he let your name casually slip on one of their spontaneous conversations and she had heard it, he knew she was going to pester him until she got any sort of answer. 

“Who’s that?” She asked and he could hear the grin in her voice.

“Uhh..” ‘Shit’.

“Bear, are you seeing someone?”

He had contemplated the question for a second, because he didn’t really know. He never asked you out officially -he didn’t have the words or know what to say- he just wasn’t built like that. And with everything going on in both your lives, he didn’t have much time to contemplate it. Besides, you had been ‘going out’ for a couple months already, and it wasn’t like you seemed bothered by the lack of a label, either. 

“Yeah… I-I am.” He spoke, the words falling comfortably around him. 

That was enough of an answer for her to insist on bringing you around for one of Pete’s Nephew’s Birthday party -or some shit like that. He was glad that Nat wanted to meet you, and under any other circumstances he would have obliged, but god did he hate that shit and the simple thought of being around screeching children made his skin crawl.

“Don’t add strawberries to the punch. Remember Pete’s allergic.” Nat called through the phone as he finished thinly slicing the oranges. “I don’t want him to end up in the ER like that one fourth of July party.” 

Carmy snickered into the phone that rested on his shoulder. “I told ‘em that shit had berries in it, his dumbass wouldn’t listen.” He grumbled.

“Well what did you expect? You idiots had him taking shots ‘till he was cross-eyed! He was lucky the alcohol made him puke ‘em out...”

“Yeah… that was a fun party.” He joked, earning an incoherent groan from his sister. “Fine... I won’t add berries.”

“Thank you. Alright I’ll see you in a few.” She said, mumbling a quick ‘Love you’ before hanging up.

By the time he was done saving the diced fruit into the containers, Carmy heard his front door open and your soft steps advance deeper down the hall. He enjoyed how quickly you had gotten comfortable going in and out of his apartment, particularly after he had given you your own set of keys. ‘That way you won’t have to wait at the gallery when I’m runnin’ late’ He had said in the most nonchalant way, though his insides felt like shutting down at the idea of your rejection. Your thank you came in the form of a heartwarming candlelit dinner, complete with an entree and dessert- that he had unknowingly bought- and that you hoped expressed all your gratitude. He had to bite his tongue many times that night because it was the only way to avoid a ‘Fuck, I love you’ to slip past his lips.

“Hey, hun.” You called, dropping the box of cupcakes you insisted on bringing and leaning up to peck his lips.

“You know you don’t have to take anything, right?”

“And show up empty handed? Do you not know me at all, Berzatto?” You joked, popping a piece of pineapple into your mouth before he sealed the container. “Besides, they’re cupcakes, that shit’s like catnip for kids.”

He snickered lowly as you took a seat on the barstool across from him.

“D’you need help with anything?”

“Nah, I’m good Love, thanks.” He said and you shuffled in your seat trying to ignore the flutter in your chest that the simple word caused. You wondered if there would ever be a time where his sweet words wouldn’t pull such a reaction from you, ‘hopefully never’ you thought.

“So, what should I expect?” You asked him.

“What’do you mean?”

“Yeah, y’know any weird uncles to stay away from…”

“I mean, my uncle Jimmy’s kinda iffy but that’s about it.”

With a soft smile you asked “You got an uncle named Jimmy?” 

“Why, is that weird?”

“No, just… very Italian of you.” You said with a laugh.

“Shut up” He half laughed. “He’s more of a family friend… but y’know, everyone’s an uncle.”

“No, yeah I get it, same” you laughed. “Okay, so just your uncle Jimmy, then?”

“Oh and Pete. He’s not weird, just a nerd, but you’ll probably get along fine.” He grinded then sniggered harder when you playfully pushed his shoulder.

He quickly got dressed while you skipped through the few channels available on his TV. Then once he was ready, although just physically, you helped him with the fruit containers while he carried the gallon of punch and your cupcakes down to the first floor.

The car ride was spent on raking your nails mindlessly along his arm as he asked about your paintings and the classes you gave to the few kids who didn’t go away for the summer. You also talked about the upcoming function and how you weren’t sure of the theme you wanted for your paintings yet. Between that and the classes, you didn’t have much time to use the workshop in the back, but you made good use of the extra hour you sometimes stayed while waiting for him.

In turn, Carmy told you about Marcus’ new desserts and how proud he was that the team was starting to come together after so long. You remembered Syd calling you a few weeks before, excited that Tina had finally called her chef and a fondness spread through you at how things were finally turning for both of them. For everyone really.

The closer you got to the destination, the more your nerves bubbled in your stomach. Your foot bounced anxiously in the passenger seat of Richie’s car, making the box of cupcakes that rested on your lap rustle with your movements. Your insides were a worried mess as you nibbled on your thumbnail with eyes glued on the road and a thousand thoughts racing per minute. Carmy took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it gently over your bouncing knee, trying to calm you, but it only transformed your thoughts into words that spilled from your parted lips.

“What if she hates me?”

“She's not gonna hate you.” He reassured.

“How do you know that?!”

“Because she's been buggin’ me about you for the past two weeks.” Carmy groaned in a faux exasperated tone. 

“Sorry, I’m just really nervous. I’ve never met anyone’s family before.” You said, threading your fingers tightly through his.

“Yeah? It’s going to be fine, trust me.” He assured and reached your joined hands up to kiss the back of yours. He wanted to admit that this too was a first for him, but you were nervous enough as it was and he didn’t want to burden you with his own anxieties. 

You reached Sugar’s house around noon, the bustling sound of feral children penetrated the closed windows of the car even as he parked half a block away. You both sat in the silence for a couple minutes, basking in the few moments of peace left.

“I hate this shit too,” Carmy said while opening your door. “but we’ll be an hour or two, max. Just to get Sugar off my ass.”

“What, you don’t wanna parade me around like arm candy?” You teased to hide your obvious tenseness.

“Trust me babe, if I could, I’d keep you all to myself…” He mumbled with a sigh against your temple before placing a kiss on it and rounding the car to take out the stuff from the back.

The first thing you were met with after crossing the threshold was the heavy smell of smoked sausages. Toasted bread and the sweetness of caramelized onion filtered through your nostrils as you made your way deeper into the room. The excess sounds of laughter from the living room mixed with the distant screaming was slightly overwhelming, but you were soon grounded by Carmy’s strong arm around your waist, guiding you to where you assumed the smell came from.

“Bear!” The tall woman greeted once she spotted her brother, taking off the oven mitts and walking to his side to hug over his shoulders.

You stood a bit awkwardly to the side, before she pulled away from him and looked at you with a smile.

“Hi, I’m Nat.” She introduced herself after a few seconds where no one spoke. You took her outstretched hand with a nervous chuckle and introduced yourself.

“Shit- right, sorry. This is my sister Nat, Nat this is my -uh- girlfriend.” His words came out rushed, afraid that once they were out you’d refuse them. But all he saw were glowing eyes and blushed cheeks pushed up from your smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, well by name at least.” Sugar said, eyes raking over her brother in scrutiny. “I saw you at the restaurant once, right?”

Your palms grew sweaty at the memory, how you had stupidly believed Richie and how you had thought that the woman in front of you was Carmy’s wife. Now that you stood closer and could find traces of his face scattered around hers, you wanted to slap yourself for ever believing such an idiotic lie.

“Yeah, I worked there for a couple months.” You responded, placing the box of cupcakes over her kitchen island, where she began flipping the hotdog buns she had pulled from the oven.

“And what do you do now?”

“She’s an artist.” Carmy answered for you, a proudness evident on his light features as he turned to you with a ghost of a smile.

“I give painting classes to kids. And also do some work on the side.” You specified.

“That’s pretty cool. You must be used to all of this, then.” Natalie said, signaling to some kids that ran past the doorway playing tag.

You laughed in agreement, the nervousness dissipating the more you interacted with her. While Carmy mixed the punch, you helped her buttering the buns and placing a sausage in each one, all throughout a scattered conversation. 

“I’m gonna take these to Pete.” She said, taking the tray of hotdogs and thanking you for the help. “Bear, once you're done, put the punch out on the patio, will you? And try not to spike it with anything!” Natalie yelled from the door.

“It was one time!” He yelled back, a smile hidden behind his words. “It was just once…” He muttered softly to you.

“I believe you…” You assured with a teasing smile. “So… girlfriend, huh?”

He gave you one of those looks that made your insides quiver, the kind that  had you all flustered and throwing the dishes into the murky water when you still worked at the beef. Carmen shrugged and looked back down at the punch with a soft smile.

“I thought it was a good time…”He  whispered. “A-are you okay… with it?”

He looked at you again. Crystal eyes gave a clear view to his swirling emotions and for a brief moment, you finally understood why they say that the eyes are windows to the soul. 

“Yeah. I’m really okay with it. ” You whispered back and despite your hectic surroundings, his glowing features proved that he had heard your every word.

“Good, good.” He rambled, clearing his throat.

“Carmen, my boy!” 

You both turned to the entrance, where a man with slicked back hair and thick aviator glasses walked towards Carmy, arms stretched out.

“Haven’t seen you since you roofied my kid’s party!” His chuckle boomed as he hugged Carmy, one hand clapping hard over his back.

“Jesus, why is everyone rememberin’ that today all of a sudden?” Carmy joked. “And it was Xanax, okay? I’m not a fuckin’ perv…”

“I’ll forget it when you do somethin’ worse, alright? Wow…” He said, turning to you. “You’re new.”

You whispered a nervous ‘Hi’ to who Carmy introduced as Cicero, or his uncle Jimmy, the man taking you by the shoulders and placing a soft kiss on each cheek. Before you knew it, you were surrounded by a group of people greeting your boyfriend, all with a different topic and speaking over each other's words. He navigated easily around them, as if the action was almost routinary, though the hard grip he had around your hand gave away how anxious the situation really made him feel. 

They were asking you questions too, flinging them in your direction, hoping you’d catch the bait. ‘How’d you meet?!’, ‘How long have you been together?’, ‘I’m glad he finally has a girlfriend, we were startin’ to think he was gay!’. The last one earned an uproar of laughter from the group and distracted them enough that you could pull yourself away from the hoard. Carmy wasn’t so lucky, one of his aunts had her arm looped through his, holding him in place. You shot him an apologetic look as you took the punch and hauled it out the back door, mouthing a ‘Sorry’ with a shrug and a smile.

You placed the glass cylinder on the long white table that rested on the grass, surrounded by platters of fruit and some already cooked hotdogs. The noise was a bit higher than inside, but the soft breeze of the summer afternoon helped calm the slow growing headache.

“The wolf pack got to you, huh?” Natalie asked, placing another tray of cooked dogs then standing beside you.

“Yeah.. I guess.”

“I think they just got all excited cause they’ve never seen him with anyone…” She turned to look at her brother through the glass door, with a certain softness that one only reserves for someone who you’ve seen grow up.

You turned too, he was listening intently to a short woman speak, hands clasped behind his back and nodding politely to her conversation. The crowd had dispersed and you were glad that he didn’t have to be stuck in the whirlpool of taunts from his family anymore.

“Haven’t really seen him outside that stupid place in a while...” She spoke, pulling you from your thoughts. “Did he… tell you about Mikey?”

You let a few seconds pass before answering “He kinda mentioned him, once.”

Nat nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the playing children around you. “Well, I’m glad he at least has someone to talk to. God knows he won't even take my calls.” 

She smiled down at you, a soft tint around the rim of her eyes and the button of her nose. It was surprising how similar they looked, even in their sadness, their facial expressions mirrored each other’s well. You wondered if Mikey looked anything like them, sharing the same sandy blonde hair and the saddest of blue eyes.

She then sniffed softly and cleared her throat. “Drink?” She filled up the plastic cup with the orange liquid once you nodded.

“Babe, look! someone gave Jack a plane!” A tall man shouted towards Natalie, while shaking the controller in her direction. “Come see!”

“I gotta go make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone-” She grumbled to you, making you laugh, then took her cup and began walking towards him. “You’re doing great, babe!”

You stood leaning on the side of the table, sipping on your drink and observing your surroundings. You watched how Nat’s husband wrapped his arms around her and tried teaching her how to steer the model plane. Then, how in a fit of laughter it came plummeting down and almost crashed into the ground before it rose back up again. You silently giggled from afar at their actions and how happy they seemed.

“You left me alone to die in there.” You felt Carmy’s sultry breath fan the side of your face, then his arm fall softly over your shoulders.

“Hmm, you seemed pretty comfortable to me…” 

“Yeah, right.” He sniggered.

“Your uncle Jimmy seems nice…”

“Yeah.. just never borrow money from him..” Carmy mumbled and before you could ask what he meant, he cleared his throat and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “D’you wanna get outta here?”

You looked up to glistening eyes and bit your lip to hide your smile. “What did you have in mind?”

He shrugged looking around the open space and taking your cup before raising it to his lips. “Dunno. I just know that you look really fuckin’ hot in those jeans and it’s driving me insane.” 

Your breath got caught in your throat at his blunt response, the smile on your face curving into a more mischievous one and you looked around wondering if his family would even notice your absence. 

“Okay. ” You whispered up at him and his brows raised in surprise. “I’ll, uhm just use the bathroom and meet you by the car” Then you stepped up on your toes and kissed the curve of his lips. 

As you made your way past the kitchen and along the hallway that harbored the open bathroom door, you saw an array of picture frames decorating the cream colored walls. You took your time admiring each one, a fondness blossoming inside your chest as you spotted the familiar pair of eyes and wild hair. The frames were in timeline order and even though there weren’t many pictures, it was nice to see the siblings slowly growing up. You recognized two of the three in one of the images, which seemed to have been  taken on Christmas morning. The third, an older boy with raven hair, was the one you could only assume as Michael. He looked different than what you imagined he would, but all three shared the same beaming smile.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of the hall that the fondness you felt in your chest turned into heavy bricks, plummeting into the ground and ripping a hole through the floor. You recognized the older dark pair of tired eyes staring back at you, how could you not? You had seen them many times before in the nightmares that you foolishly tried to escape. But it was too much of a coincidence and there was no way that Chicago could be that small. Yet the picture could not be clearer. 

In front of the less rundown restaurant that you had come to love, stood a younger Carmy, maybe in his late teens, with his arm falling loosely over his older brother- a man whose face you had not known before, but could now unmistakably identify as the one who you had run into that unfaithful night on the bridge. 

Your body shattered in sudden waves of cold sweats and you weren’t sure how long you had been standing in the middle of the hallway, gawking at the picture. Your hand held a tight grip  on  your stomach as the other hovered over the erratic beating of your chest, trying but failing to calm it down. The same adrenaline laced thought kept running in circles around your head ‘Chicago can’t be that small. It’s just a similar face.’ But no matter how hard you tried to kid  yourself, you knew deep down that it was him. 

The burning pressure began to grow and you used the last bit of strength left to move your legs from where they stood frozen on the floor, into the entrance of the bathroom and shutting the door with an impolite slam. It was then that the memories fell too heavy, pushing you down to level the floor and crushing your chest into an uncountable number of pieces. The bustling sounds of the party seemed too far away, clouded by the static ringing in your ears and by the sound of your own shallow breaths. You could feel the panic attack slowly inching closer to you, the corners of your vision bled dark and made the yellow lights in the bathroom swirl into watercolors that turned white and gray everything around you. You tried the stupid breathing exercises again, but every exhale left with a chest shaking cry that you had to silence with the flesh of your palm. 

The static in your ears now turned into rushing water and the overwhelming screech of tires and metal crashing against thick concrete. You were cold again, harsh pins and needles poked at the skin of your bare feet with every step on the fresh snow. You were cold and numb. Hot tears streamed from your eyes, burning a trail down your frostbitten cheeks and salting your trembling lips. You were angry again, cold and angry and numb all at once, feeling your fingertips glide over the freezing metal railing of the bridge. Clouds of hot air left your lungs in shaky breaths as your aching bones gripped tightly and your feet climbed up between the rails that separated you from endless nothing. 

Then finally, as your legs swung over the metal and you sat with your feet hanging over the dark water, you felt… nothing. It was as if all the pain that had been compressing your chest over the past months had suddenly evaporated. There was no lying boyfriend, no sickly grandmother or frustrated career. Just you, the icy barrier nipping at the back of your thighs through your leggings and the thousands of twinkling stars that had never looked brighter in the light polluted sky. You could lastly enjoy the silence you had so desperately tried to find during the months where your life seemed to fall apart. It was there, right in front of you, if you were only so brave to take the small leap and reach out to touch it.

A voice called your name from a distance, trying to break past the thick mirage that replayed in an endless loop. A soft blow vibrated against your back and the muffled voice called again with no response. It was as if you were trapped in a snow globe, cursed to relive the haunting memory of your own demise. Not even the constant vibration of the discarded phone resting beside you on the tiles could pull you out of your head.

‘You don’t wanna do that…’ A deep voice called from behind you. ‘You don’t wanna do that.’

**********

Carmy knew something was wrong when after twenty minutes of waiting by the car, you never came out or answered his calls. He asked his sister if she had seen you and when she answered ‘no’, his worry increased. His first thought was to search deep into the hallway and could hear you behind the bathroom door, soft whimpers that were barely audible through the outside noise, but still present. With his heart in his throat, he was able to push the unlocked door open just enough for his sister to slip past the narrow space and find you curled against it, eyes glued to the wall in front of you but completely dissociated.

Natalie crouched down towards you in a hurry, wrapping her hands over your tear stained cheeks and pulling your blank face up to help your eyes focus on hers.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Look at me-” She urged. 

Only a soft ‘I knew him..’ fell over and over from your lips.

“Breathe, hun, you gotta breathe, okay?” Her voice was neutral, but the slight tremble in her hands gave away the thin panic.

“Your brother-” You finally said, swallowing the dryness that invaded your throat. “I-I knew him he- I-”

The words felt heavy over your tongue, head still clouded with the visions of a memory that you thought buried six feet deep. You could feel the loose soil around it pile inside your mouth as the words unearthed themselves.

“it’s okay, yes Carmy’s outside-”

“No, Mikey! T-that night, on-on the bridge when I… He was there, he-” You took a deep breath and screwed your eyes shut. “I-I was gonna jump and he-” A soft cry replaced your words, then you felt Natalie’s arms circle your back and press you hard against her.

The force of your cries were muffled by her shirt, staining the soft fabric with your snot and makeup, but she didn’t seem to care.  You still couldn’t understand it. It felt like a cruel joke orchestrated by whoever the fuck was in charge of existece, to make you believe that you could finally leave all your horrible mistakes in the past - to let you grace happiness with the tips of your fingers- only to have reality slap you in the face and beat you back down to the ground.

The pressure of her hug grounded you back to your body and helped create a tempo for your erratic breathing, until soft sniffles were all that was left of your breakdown. Her soft strokes on the back of your head comforted you in a way you didn’t know, in a way that only an older sister could.

You felt Carmy’s soft knocks vibrate on the door and a slight panic bubbled again.

“You can’t tell him! He’s gonna hate me, you can’t-” You whispered in a rush.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay..” She hummed. “I’m not gonna tell him, okay? I won’t. But you’ll have to eventually. He has the right to know.” 

“I know, I know. I will, I promise, but I can’t right now. I just- I can’t…”

She nodded in understanding and pulled her arms from you, letting you push yourself onto wobbly knees and make your way to the sink, where you tried to clean up as best as you could. After washing away the remnants of salty mascara streaks on your cheeks and drying your face, you turned to Natalie still sniffing back a few tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

She only nodded slowly with a forced tight smile and raked her fingers through her hair in a gesture that reminded you heavily of her brother.

“I’m gonna -uh- stay here. A little longer.”

With a soft ‘Okay’ in her direction and a heavy heart, you turned to exit. 

Carmy quickly pushed himself off the hallway wall where he patiently waited for you, a heavy look of worry concealed under his creased brow.

“A-are you okay? Do I take you to the ER or somethin’...” He rambled as soon as he spotted you, reaching up to rub warmth into your cold arms. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah. I didn’t mean to freak you out, I'm sorry.” And you truly meant it, but he couldn’t grasp on to what degree. “I just got really overwhelmed-”

“Hey, no- it’s okay, don’t apologize.” He wrapped his strong arms around your shaking frame and whispered “I knew this was a shitty idea…” Into your hair.

You shakily inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave and cigarettes, the voice in your head taunting you to ‘Enjoy it while you can, after you tell him, he won’t even want to look at you’ and a fresh batch of tears threatened to burst out.

“Where.. where’s Sugar?”

“She said she needed the bathroom.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“Okay…C’mon, let’s get you home.” 

All you could do was nod and trail behind him, hand locked tightly into his. The party had moved to the patio, where a chorus of voices sang Happy Birthday, oblivious to your escape. You had underestimated the time you spent in the bathroom because what had felt like only a couple of minutes to you, was actually long enough for the sun to start setting over the skyline by the time Carmy turned on the car and began the drive back. 

Your forehead spent the whole ride home pressed to the window, hoping that your skin absorbed some of the coldness and reduced the pounding between your brows. Carmy’s hand never left your leg and you didn’t look in his direction, scared to see the hardened  expression that loomed over his features when he was deep in his head. You felt guilty. To see the poor man in torturing thought, trying to figure out what it was that could have made you spiral in such a way. You only spoke when you asked him to drop you off at your building and he made no effort to contradict your choice, despite heavily wanting to.

You only threw  an empty smile and a kiss on his cheek, accompanied by a soft ‘good night’ before rapidly exiting the car and disappearing behind the hard wooden doors. Carmy felt confused and worried, above anything else and couldn’t shake the sensation off his shoulders as he reached his eerily silent apartment without you.

The stairs to your floor had  never felt more difficult to climb, and when you finally dragged yourself through your door and spotted your grandfather resting on the couch, the dam that had only slightly cracked in Natalie’s bathroom, finally broke. You flung yourself to his side and cried until the back of your throat felt raw and stung with the waves of your shuddering breaths. He held you close without question, rubbing your back rhythmically and humming one of the lullabies he’d sing to calm you down as a child.

You didn’t know if you cried out of guilt, anger or fear. Or if maybe it was a mixture of it all, but it didn’t matter. Because the only image that swam infinitely in your head was the menacing memory of the frostbitten skin on your cheeks and the -until today- unknown man that had pulled you off the State Street Bridge’s edge. 

Chapter 10.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt and that’s it lmao

[nataliepruitts]

Our Precious Gem | Possessive!Bully! Tomura, Touya, & Kai x Reader

Chapter 3

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Trigger warning: A small mention of thoughts of suicide, mention of murder, mention of drinking, and mention of domestic abuse.

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It didn't take long for Tomura, Touya, and Kai to give you a bad name at high school, as they usually did, and any potential friendships you could have made were lost. You don't understand why they have to do this, why they have to isolate you from everyone else. Why can't they just let you live your life? You wish they would just ignore you like they do with all the other girls, that would be better than what they keep doing to you.

Ling went missing after his encounter with them and was found dead not long afterward, and that was only the beginning. All through the first year, anybody that tried to mess with you or get close to you would end up dead, anybody that thought they could flirt with you would end up dead. It didn't take you long to figure out who was doing the killings, those three were the only ones who could get away with murder in this town, and it finally dawned on you that they were the ones behind the beatings some of the kids in middle school endured.

By the time you guys got into the second year everyone avoided you, more out of fear than anything. You continued living this hellish life at school because of them, you had to do their homework, whatever assignments you guys were given, and when there were group projects you were forced to team up with them and they would make you do the whole project on your own. They would always take your lunch so you got to the point where you would just stop taking lunch to school, you would just wait until you got out of school and get something to eat while heading home.

You feel like you must have the shittiest life ever and you've even contemplated giving up, just jump off a bridge or something and end it all. The only thing keeping you going is your mom who is trying to get you out of this section of town and away from your abusive father and those three bullies. Stopping at the park while walking home from school and talking to your mom about everything that's been happening is the only time you can get peace of mind. When you told her about Tomura, Touya, and Kai following you to the high school you chose she started joking about them crushing on you and that they just can't stay away from you, but you highly doubt that was the case.

Because of your father, it's hard for your mom to get custody of you so you two come up with a plan for you to leave that section of town and go live with her after you graduate from high school since you will be a young adult and can choose where you want to live. Your mom lives in the other section of town where Shigaraki, the Hassaikai, and the Todoroki clan have no reign over, which means Tomura, Touya, and Kai have no rule there, if you could move over there you would be free from them. That's the thought that helps you persevere and push your way through high school, no matter how bad things get you just grit your teeth and push through it.

Unfortunately, things always seem to get worse before they can get better. When you're halfway through your second year in high school, your father has an accident at his workplace, the place he worked at your entire life, and he can no longer work. He fell from a high platform and completely shattered his hip, they did surgery to repair it but the injury was excessive and he was told that he couldn't go back to work with his hip being that bad. He was put on Occupational Injury Insurance to pay for all the medical bills and he was put on disability so he was still able to get money to pay the bills and get food.

The accident happened during summer break so you were at home helping him around the house, and of course, a lot of the money he was getting from disability was going toward his drinking habits. The money that was left over had to go to the bills which fell on you to keep up with. By the end of the summer break, you managed to get a job at a restaurant close to where you lived where you served tables, that way you can make some extra income to pay for food.

The owners of the restaurant were an old married couple that was way too sweet to be in this section of town, when you went in to apply for the job you told them about your circumstance and their hearts went out to you so they let you work for them for a pretty good pay. Knowing how hard it is for you to get food, the old lady always has a meal cooked for you when you arrive to work and she has you sit down and eat before getting to work, then when it is time for you to leave she will make something for you to take home for you and your father. When it was time for you to go back to school, they were more than happy to make a schedule that would work around your school schedule and would also allow you time to do your homework.

Being stuck at home with nothing to do, your father started losing his mind. He began drinking more which led to him becoming more violent. He used to just push you where you would fall and hurt your bum, or hit you on the head to the point where you would get headaches, but mostly it was mental and emotional abuse, the physical part was hardly ever to the point where he would leave marks on your body. Except for a few times where he grabbed one of your arms too hard where he left a bruise but you were always able to cover it up like it was no big deal.

But when he started losing his mind and started drinking more he started getting more abusive. He started leaving bruises on your body but they are always in areas that can be easily covered up with your clothes or your hair. A part of you hopes that someone will notice the bruises and help you get away from your father but at the same time you know that even if someone saw the bruises no one would care or bother to help you. The only ones you think would at least care are the old couple you work for and maybe two of your teachers who are really nice, but you make sure that no one ever sees the bruises.

Since you're now making your own money you start putting money away to use whenever you want to get away for a bit and you travel to the other section of town to see your mom. You show her the bruises your father leaves on your body and she looks at you with sorrowful, sympathetic eyes. She hugs you as you start crying, "I'm so sorry you have to go through so much, sweetie. I would give anything to see you live a much happier life." She really wishes she could help you but she knows how difficult it is the get the police in that section of town to take anything seriously, she tried, and she can't send the police from the good section over there unless she wants them to get killed.

It's become a thing that if any police officers from the good section of town are spotted anywhere in the bad section they will be killed on the spot, so it's impossible to send police over there to arrest your father. And unfortunately, your mom can't keep you with her as long as you're lawfully under his custody until you turn eighteen and become a young adult. But now that you have your own money you go to visit her almost every weekend and every time you get a break from school, it always gives you something to look forward to and more motivation to get through the school days.

You've been doing a good job at keeping your bruises covered up while at school, especially around your bullies. They're the biggest ones you make sure you hide your bruises from because the last thing you need right now is for them to start making fun of you because of your bruised body, that will just add salt to the wound.

Correction, you were doing a good job at first. As you approached the end of your second year the burden of everything going on in your life started weighing heavily on you and your mood started changing slightly. You started looking more out of it and had moments where you would lose focus in class, or a look of sadness would flash across your face before you quickly got rid of it and tried to pull yourself together, hoping that no one noticed.

But Tomura, Touya, and Kai noticed. They notice the far-off looks you give like something is weighing heavily on your mind, they notice the sorrow that flashes through your eyes before you push it away, the tears that begin to form in the corners of your eyes before you blink to push them back and keep them from spilling out. The three of them have known you since the first year of grade school so they know when you have a change in your mood, the slightest shift in your demeanor. You think that they would never pay enough attention to you to notice these changes but they do.

They watch you too closely not to notice when there is something off and when there is something that is obviously bothering you. They ask you about it but you just pass it off as being tired so they stop asking about it and leave it alone, until you slipped up one day and made a mistake that sent them over the edge.

[incorrect-baldurs-gate-3]

(A drabble I might turn into a full little mermaid-esque AU... I haven't decided how to go about it yet. Trigger warning though: attempted suicide)

Astarion had had enough...

He couldn't take Cazador's cruelty anymore.

He did not sign up for this when Cazador had offered to save his life...

Two hundred years of... pure shit.

Anything was better than this... even death.

So he decided... to hell with it.

And had thrown himself into the nearest reservoir... hoping it'd drag him out to sea far enough to where Cazador would never get him back.

And then he blacked out.

The last thing on his mind being,

Finally... it's over.

But it wasn't over.

Because next thing he knew he was laying on a beach nearby.

Then he heard a voice.

"Was I too late?"

He heard a sea lion barking and was a bit confused, he couldn't tell who was talking or where the noise was coming from because he had closed his eyes to try to stop the headache he was currently having.

All he knew was it was a girl, not that much younger than him.

He could feel the girl put her ear to his chest... and sigh sadly.

And then he realized she was checking for a heartbeat or a pulse.

Not that she'd find one in him.

He sighed, and the girl gasped in surprise.

"Wait!!! LOOK!!!! He's breathing!!!"

He felt her move his hair from in front of his eyes, and he was confused.

She let out a quiet gasp in awe...

"Just look at him..."

And she stroked his cheek.

"He's so... beautiful..."

If his heart could beat it would have stopped at those words...

No one ever talked about him like that...

Like he hung the stars in the sky...

People he lured to Cazador were always drunk and full of carnal lust...

This was different...

This was like she actually... cared.

But how could that be?

He was a total stranger.

She clearly didn't know who or what he was or what kind of things he did... but he couldn't make himself say anything.

And he couldn't even make himself be angry that she had clearly pulled him out of there when he had attempted to drown himself.

She didn't know what he had tried to do... she didn't know what he had been through for 200 years to put himself into this situation.

"What would I give... to live where you are...? What would I pay... to stay here beside you...?

What would I do to see you... smiling at me?"

The girl sighed, brushing another strand of his soft platinum curls away from his face.

"Where would we walk... where would we run... if we could stay all day in the sun?"

He could tell by her wistful voice she was on the verge of tears, torn... conflicted.

"Just you and me... and I could be..."

He finally tried to open his eyes, but his vision was so blurry still all he could see was the girl silhouetted by the light of the full moon, she leaned in and kissed his forehead... and his long dead frozen heart felt like it could beat again.

"Part of your world..." her voice seemed to echo in his mind...

Then as quickly as she had appeared... she was gone.

He didn't see where she went... she was just... gone.

He sat up, looked around...

But she had disappeared.

He contemplated throwing himself right back in, but something told him not to...

So he sighed, and headed back before Cazador could find out what he almost did...

Little did he know he'd run into her again a few months later... when he least expected it...

When he had almost forgotten about her, having labeled her as a dream, or a hallucination caused by almost drowning.

But he never forgot that voice.

[loveroffictionalmen]

I've got a request. I understand if this is a difficult topic and you don't feel comfortable writing it. Natasha coming back from a mission to find reader self harming. Just loads of comfort and fluff, please

More Than You Know

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Description: After feeling like there was no other way out, reader starts to self harm again. Natasha catches them and makes them feel a little better.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, self harm, negative thoughts, suicidal ideation, razors, blood, talk of depression, swearing. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU!!

Words: 1.3k

A/N: Please please please, if you ever feel the need to self harm, talk to someone. Talk to someone safe. It doesn’t have to be a family member, just someone you know who won’t get mad. I am always available to talk to. I really hope this brings comfort to whoever is reading. Remember you are loved.

It had been an exceptionally hard week. Normally episodes for y/n didn’t last for more than a month, but this one had lasted nearly two. And it still wasn’t getting better. In fact, it felt like this time, maybe it wasn’t going to get better.

Y/n had had thoughts like those before, but never too bad. They were always fleeting. Always gone after a moment. But they were sticking around this time. Nearly all day.

The compound was eerily silent. Not just because it was nearly midnight, but because everyone was gone on a mission. Everyone but y/n. A hostile force threatened the city yet again, and y/n was stuck in the compound. They felt stupid. Useless even. They should be out protecting the world; instead they were in their room contemplating if they even wanted to get out of bed. They had barely eaten all day, didn’t brush their teeth, they were a mess, they thought.

The pain was too much. The hole in their heart was growing larger by the minute, and the feeling of utter hopelessness was eating away at them. All they wanted was for Natasha to be there. She would make things better. She always did.

“Oh god,” y/n whispered. “What do I do?” They were hoping for a miracle. That Nat would suddenly appear and tell them everything would be alright and they were going to be okay. She would whisper sweet nothings to them and hold them until they fell asleep. But, it was impossible. Natasha was nearly across the country.

“Please,” they begged no one in particular. “Please come back.” A tear fell down their cheek. The pain in their heart was spreading to their stomach and throat. It felt like it would never end.

Tears began to pour from y/n’s eyes. They pulled their legs in and buried their head in their knees. Sobbing, y/n contemplated the options. Go to sleep. Eat. Cry more. None of them seemed appealing to y/n. Except one.

They had done it before until Tony caught them. He had seen the scars and forced y/n to show him where the razor was. He threw it out, of course, and locked up all the sharp objects in the compound. Even the weapons. Especially the weapons. He did it out of love and fear. He cared for y/n like a father would care for a child.

But after a while, Tony unlocked everything and allowed y/n to train again. He thought they were better. And for a while, they were.

But now, it felt like there was no other option. Y/n, tears still in their eyes, unfolded themselves and swung their legs over the bed. They were going to find something. Something to end the pain, even if it was only temporary.

Opting for the bathroom, they made a beeline for the shower. There was a shaving razor, and it wouldn’t be too hard to take apart. They fumbled a bit with taking it apart, cutting their thumb in the process. Y/n hissed in pain. But it didn’t hurt that much. And when they saw the red, it was over. There was no talking y/n out of it now.

When the razor was dismantled, y/n sat cross-legged on the floor. They stared at the small blade in their hand. Taking a deep breath, y/n slashed the blade across their left wrist. It stung a bit, but the satisfaction of seeing the blood come to the surface was far too great. They did it again. And again. And eventually their arm became numb. In fact, y/n became numb. Tears stopped falling. They were at peace.

But it was an odd peace. There was still pain in their heart. It had just subdued. And nothing mattered anymore.

They were too lost in thought to notice anything other than the blood on their wrist. They didn’t notice the Avengers enter the compound, and didn’t notice the footsteps coming towards their room.

Natasha didn’t want to wake y/n, as she assumed they would be asleep by now. But when she entered the room and saw the bed empty, Natasha halted. She turned to see the bathroom door wide open, y/n on the ground, and a bloody blade by their side.

Taking a sharp inhale, she froze. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. She didn’t know how to respond, being on the other end.

In the Red Room, Natasha found ways to cope. She would dig her nails into her palm until she bled, she would pinch her thighs, pick at unhealed scabs. No one noticed.

And now, being on the other end, Natasha realized she could help y/n, the way she wanted to be helped. She took a deep breath and walked over to the doorframe. Y/n still didn’t register that Nat was there. But a soft knock on the doorframe quickly brought them back to reality.

“Shit! I- Nat- shit shit shit, I didn’t-” Y/n stammered, wincing a bit as they put their hand over their raw wrist.

“Let me see that,” Natasha said quietly. She wasn’t angry. In fact, her tone was warm and comforting. Y/n opened their mouth to protest, but thought better of it. They held their wrist out for Natasha to see. “Oh my love.” Is all Natasha said. Pain swam in her eyes, but she didn’t show any other signs that she was upset. Of course, Natasha’s heart was screaming. She wanted to pull y/n into her arms and magically heal the wounds of their wrist and soul. But she couldn’t.

Instead, Natasha got up and wet a small hand towel. She gently wiped away the dried blood and held the cold towel there for a bit to ease the burn. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Y/n snapped their head up. “What for?” they said.

“For not being there. I shouldn’t have gone on that mission,” Nat looked at y/n. Y/n could practically taste the guilt that was surrounding Natasha.

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine for being so fucked up-”

“You are not fucked up. Believe me.” Natasha’s tone hardened along with her gaze.

“But I am.”

“No. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. You make everyone’s life better. You are a joy and a light for everyone. You- you’ve helped me more than you know.” Natasha admitted. Y/n scrunched their eyebrows to keep themselves from crying more. Natasha took y/n’s cheek in her hand and whispered, “More than you know.” With her other hand, she brought y/n’s wrist to her mouth and placed a soft kiss on the cuts. “Let’s get this bandaged up. Don’t want it getting infected.” Natasha helped y/n off the ground and found the first aid kit.

Once everything was all bandaged up, Natasha led y/n to the bed and laid down with them. She held y/n as tight as she could, stroking her hair and whispering over and over, “it’s going to be okay.” Natasha would admit it was more like she was trying to convince herself of it more than y/n.

And y/n was finally at peace. A good peace this time. They were finally in Nat’s arms, hearing those sweet nothings that they had dreamed of.

“I won’t leave you like that again. Never again my love.”