#heavy angst with a sad ending

[giggly-squiggily]

Time Wasn't In Our Favor (Demon Slayer)

We're just going for the angst this week huh- kjajkearjkeajkr

Heyo everyone! I wrote this a while back and did a small poll with everyone on which Obamitsu fic they wanted to see: the super fluffy one or this. The fluff won. All this time later I finally decided to share this with everyone! :D I hope you like it!

CW: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DEMON SLAYER MANGA. Angst, Heavy angst barely any comfort, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past torture, mentions of past bullying, insecurity, blood and injury, death, food mention, almost confessions, just lots of pain and heartache y'all I cried writing this kjarjkekjarjek

Summary: Four times Obamitsu almost confessed, and the one time they finally did.

“Kanroji looks…uneasy.” Obanai mused out loud one day, watching the pink haired Hashira speak with the others. While she smiled and greeted everyone as per her welcome, there was clear discomfort on her face whenever she was alone. She was always clutching the ends of her uniform, tugging on it as if it would somehow get longer.

“I don’t blame her. That perv was the one who made the uniform.” Sanemi grumbled, referencing none other than Maeda- one of the many tailors in the Demon Corps. He was good at the craft, but notorious for his…revealing design choices. “I heard he tried to pull the same thing on Shinobu and her Tsugoku. She burned it before him.” The Wind Hashira snickered, clearly pleased with the thought. “Shame she didn’t get to him a third time.”

“He designed yours too, yes?” Obanai eyed the bare chested Hashira, his scars gleaming brightly against his skin. “I assumed he only did that for the woman.”

“Ay, eyes up here, buddy.” Sanemi snapped his fingers, focusing the other. “And yeah- I told him to make mine like this. Makes the whole bleeding thing easier.”

The ‘Bleeding thing’ was what Sanemi called his Marechi blood- a rare type that demons craved like an addiction. He often used said blood to kill his targets, luring them in with the smell and cutting their heads off clean. It left him with scars all over, but the white haired man didn’t seem bothered by it.

Obanai was about to remark on Sanemi’s other intentions regarding the choice of clothes when his eyes went back to Mitsuri. She was now talking to Shinobu, her stance relaxed once more. It must have been comforting, having another woman on the team to talk to. While he hasn’t seen any of the Hashria leer at Kanroji, he wouldn’t be surprised if those outside their group have, taking in her entire being like a piece of meat.

The thought alone made his stomach turn. He wanted to hunt them all down and gut them.

“Ayo, your bloodlust is showing.” Sanemi reached up and nudged his foot, bringing him back to reality.

“Says the man with the most bloodlust here.” Obanai retorted, earning a snort.

“I save it for demons.” A half truth. Sanemi followed his gaze, humming softly. “She’s a tough woman. You don’t have to worry about anyone being gross to her. She’d probably knock them out with those killer biceps.” He nodded approvingly, flinching when Obanai punched his shoulder. “Ouch, damn- what the hell?”

“Don’t be cruel.” He growled, feeling protective. He didn’t know much, but they seemed to be an insecurity for her- her arms. The way she tucked them in when in groups or kept her hand gestures close to her chest. It was like she was trying to shrink in on herself.

“I wasn’t....” Sanemi rolled his eyes before turning back to the girl in question. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like her arms. I think they're great.” He nodded. “Don’t hit me again- I’m not trying to steal your girl.”

“She’s not my-”

“But she does look uncomfortable.” He carried on, furrowing his brows. “Especially with the skirt. Think she’d feel better if we force Maeda to make her a longer one?”

Obanai doubted it. Not only would it not be ready for a while, but the implication felt…wrong. Like he was telling her what to wear, or that he was only looking at her legs.

Legs…wait a moment…

“Don’t. It’ll make things worse. But I do have an idea.” Obanai mused, starting to perk up.

~~~

“Oh wow…Iguro-san, these are beautiful!” Mitsuri gushed as she held up the socks. They were knee high, light green with stripe detail down the legs. Thick enough for coverage but light enough so she won’t sweat. They matched the tips of her hair, she realized- a detail she hadn’t even thought of herself. “I love them!”

“I’m glad.” Obanai smiled behind his mask, fighting down the blush threatening to spread over his cheeks. He looked away politely as she pulled them on, Kaburamaru hissing in approval as she squealed with delight. “They’re on! How do I look?” She asked, striking a pose. Already she looked much more comfortable in her own skin.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Obanai almost said it as he took in her smiling face, the look of utter joy in her green eyes as she fluttered about- beyond pleased. It was like the sun was eclipsed until this moment- finally peeking out behind a mass of dark matter to shine down on them, enhancing the world around them. Obanai nearly forgot to breathe when she smiled at him like that.

“You look wonderful.” He got out, making her blush and shine more.

One day, he’d tell her.

One day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mm! Mm, mm mm! The smell is amazing!” Mitsuri was in heaven- her cheeks flushed with absolute joy as she breathed deeply. She had gotten back from a particularly long mission, and she was starving. The plan had been to go home and make something, but she ran into Obanai along the way. The first thing to greet him, much to her horror, was the growl in her stomach.

“Hungry?” He asked, voice teasing. Her face burned.

Now they were here- a small restaurant that Mitsuri knew well. The shop owner loved her- she tipped well and always made his day better. When she walked in, the old man greeted her with open arms and a bright laugh. “Welcome back, Miss Kanroji! Ah, I see you brought a date!”

“Oh, this is Iguro-san! He’s a fellow Hashira.” She reassured him, her cheeks bright red as the man and his wife came around to properly say hello. She dared a peek- Obanai looked rather flushed himself. Don’t let this get awkward, Mitsuri. “I’ll have my usual, though er…keep it to one serving.” She shifted, forcing a smile.

“Just one? But we made a whole pan-” The kind man began, cutting off when his wife pinched his arm. “Alright then- a serving of Curry rice for the lovely lady, and for you sir?”

“I’ll have the same thing.” He nodded, his voice quiet. The couple faded away as Mitsuri and Obanai took a seat, side by side along the table. She knew she should sit across from him but…”Sorry- is this weird? I’ll move.” She offered, starting to stand.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He patted her hand, keeping her there. He didn’t look uncomfortable- even if he seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Oh dear, did she take too much space? She wasn’t exactly slender. Was she crushing him?

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-” She began again, only to stop when the restaurant owner came by, placing their bowls before them.

“Here we are! I added half an extra serving for you, Kanroji. I know how much you love our curry rice!” He winked playfully at her before heading back, ignorant to the way her soul dropped to her stomach.

“Kanroji? Are you okay?” Obanai asked, brows furrowing as he took in her pale face. “Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, not at all!” She squeaked, shaking her head as she gathered her chopsticks. “I’m fine! Totally fine! Let’s eat, shall we?”

If she were completely honest- she wasn’t fine. When she usually came here, she was either by herself or with Rengoku. The Flame Hashira ate as much as she did, so she never felt weird polishing off so many bowls of the delicious curry rice.

Awful as it sounds, being here with Obanai- it reminded her of her ex fiance.

“You’ll never find a man who will welcome your presence for the rest of your life.”

“You eat like a boar. What man would want you?”

“Your hair is hideous. And your arms? God- it’s like you're more monster than woman.”

All this time later, and those words still stung. She felt them clawing up her throat, choking her. Her eyes burned as the shame she felt coated her skin like oil, sticky and suffocating. She couldn’t let Obanai see her eat that way. It was bad enough he saw her hair. He saw her fight demons in a way that was without a doubt not fit for a lady.

If he saw her eat like a monster- like a demon…

“Kanroji, are you okay? You look like you're gonna be sick.” Obanai sounded so concerned. He looked at her bowl, taking a sniff. “Is there something wrong with the food? You haven’t touched it. Do you want me to get you something else?”

I want to disappear. She thought helplessly. I want to fade away. I want to be more what the world wants. I want to fit in, to blend in. To go unnoticed. I want to be forgotten.

“I…” She began, freezing when she saw the chopsticks before her, holding some of the rice.

“Erm…sorry if this is…eh…” Obanai seemed flustered as he offered the food, his cheeks red behind his mask. Still, he held her gaze. “I think…I think eating something might make you feel better. Sometimes we get stomach aches from not eating…at least, that happens to me.” He nodded at the rice. “Erm…this is kinda awkward, if you want me to put it down I’ll-”

Her lips closed around the chopsticks, the rich flavor melting on her tongue. It was a little embarrassing, being fed, but… “Thank you.” She smiled, taking the chopsticks from his hand. Taking a breath, she looked at her bowl. She wanted so badly to dive in and eat, but…

“Kanroji, please.” Obanai nodded. “You should eat. If you want, I’ll keep feeding you-”

“Oh no! I got this!” She tried to eat slowly, but before long she was devouring her bowl, lost in its flavor. When she finished, there wasn’t a grain left. “Mm…mh!”

Oh no. Oh god. She forgot. She forgot he was-

The untouched curry slid into her view, Obanai’s eyes kind. “If you’re hungry, eat. A Hashira needs their fuel, and you especially.” At her questioning gaze, he nodded. “Love breathing is a branch of Flame breathing. Those types of moves burn through calories like nothing. You need to restore your energy, so eat what you want.” He nodded. “Besides; I think the restaurant owner here would be pretty sad to let that pan go to waste.”

Her eyes grew misty, but not from hurt. She smiled wobbly, taking the bowl. “Thank you, Iguro-san.” She paused then, suddenly feeling bad. “But your food…”

“I already ate.” He dropped casually, making her stare. “Really. I had those snacks you left me. They were amazing.”

“You really liked them?” She asked, her heart starting to swell. As she turned to her bowl, she heard Obanai ask the old man to bring Mitsuri her usual order. “And some Sakura Mochi. They’re her favorite.” He nodded, making her heart race within her chest. He remembered.

~~~

“That was amazing!” She sighed, patting her belly as she and Obanai left. The restaurant owner and his wife saw them off, smiling at eachother knowingly. She had a feeling she was never gonna hear the end of it from them next time she came. “Thank you so much, Iguro-san. You really didn’t have to pay though! I know my order can get…expensive.” She almost cringed at the amount of bowls she tucked away.

“It’s no trouble at all. You were happy, and that’s what matters.” He nodded, not quite looking her way as he tugged on his mask. His ears were red now, something she found rather cute. “Please never feel the need to hide from us, Kanroji. We’d never judge you for how you live.”

The unspoken “I” was there. It made them both blush.

“Thank you, really. I…” She wanted to say more then. It had been a long time since someone made her heart race like this. Someone who looked at her only fondly as she ate, no judgment in sight as she finished off bowl after bowl. He never pointed it out, only kept the conversation going; talking about missions and life and friends.

He made her feel…normal.

She wanted to tell him that.

She wanted to tell him more.

“Hm? What is it?” Obanai asked, looking at her curiously.

No. Not yet. She swallowed her heart back to her chest.

“Nothing. Just…thank you again.” She smiled, tugging at her hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obanai was more careful than this.

As the Serpent Hashira, he was rather fast on his feet. He moved like his breathing style, slithering and evading demon attacks as he brought them down one after the other. At best, he walked away without a scratch.

Today, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Iguro-san! Oh no, you’re hurt!” Mitsuri was beside him before he hit the ground, the demon fading into ashes behind them as her hands steadied him. His entire body hurt, and his face felt wet. When he blinked, nothing fell from his eyes- it wasn’t tears.

Which meant it must have been blood. Lovely.

“It’s alright- are you okay?” He grunted, the smell of Sakura Mochi telling him she was rather close. Her hair was frizzy from the fight, and her eyes were wide with worry. She had a bruise along her chin, and her clothes were frayed at the sleeves.

Bruised and dirty, but she was alive. Good.

“Nevermind me, you’re bleeding!” Her hands reached out, hesitating momentarily before she took his chin, gently turning it to look at the cut. “It doesn’t look that bad- if Kocho-san was here, she’d know exactly how to handle it.”

“It’s alright- I can take care of it.” If anything- he’d prefer to. The cut ran past his mask, cutting it to the middle. In order to clean the wound, he’d need to remove said cover.

The cover that hid his scar and the painful memories it carried.

“You’re so strong, Iguro-san.” She smiled, cheeks pink as she wiped the blood away with a portion of her Haori. “That’s what makes you so great- you can handle just about anything.”

The words made his face heat up, and he was about to tell her not to use her Haori on him. “The blood will never come out!” He was about to say.

Only for the words to get caught in his throat when he felt his mask slip.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught it before it could hit the dirty ground, the damage it took was more severe then they realized. “I’m so sorry- I must have worsened the damage! I’ll fix it up-” When her eyes came back to Obanai, he looked stricken, pale and shaky as he clamped a bloody hand over his mouth. “I-Iguro-san? What’s wrong? Are you about to be sick?”

He didn’t answer, his throat closed with fear and his mind racing a million miles a minute. No- no no no! This wasn’t supposed to happen! She can’t see it- she can’t!

His fingers pressed tightly against the scar tissue stretching past his lips, reminding him of that horrible day. The knife glinting in the candlelight. The pain stretching along his face. His tears as he begged and begged them to stop, to let him go, to kill him.

All for that horrid Serpent Demon. All to keep the stolen riches the demon provided.

He wished he could forget it. How he was almost given to that horrid beast, and the consequences that came when he escaped.

All of it, there on his scarred mouth. If Mitsuri saw it…she’d know what he was.

A coward. A monster.

“Iguro-san…” Mitsuri bit her lip, eyes wide with worry as she took in the shaking Hashira before her. Then her eyes grew clear. she grabbed her sword. 

Before Obanai could stop her, she sliced through a clean chunk of her Haori, the strip long and thick. Folding it, she brought it up and pressed it over the hand covering his mouth, her touch light.

“It’s not much, and it probably smells weird, but it’ll have to do for now.” Her eyes were so gentle, so kind as his hand fell away, his mouth once again secured. Her hands came around and tied his new makeshift mask into a secure knot, careful not to catch any of his hair in the process. “There we are! Feeling better?” She asked.

The mask smelled like sakura mochi and tea and home. Even with everything that happened, she never lost that scent. Tears burned his eyes and cut off his voice, making it impossible to speak. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. He hoped she’d hear his silent thank you.

When she squeezed back, fierce and kind- she squeezed his heart as well.

~~~

Later- with his face newly cleaned and his clothes fixed, Obanai found a small parcel waiting for him. The note on top was written in curly strokes, a heart dotting her name.

Iguro-san, I fixed your mask! It was kinda dirty, so I cleaned it as well.

With love- Mitsuri

He held it close to his chest, his newly stitched and clean mask. It still smelled just like her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Master Ubuyashiki was gone.

He gave his life so he could end this Demon war once and for all.

Mitsuri wiped at her tears, running through courier after courier as she searched for the demon in sight. She would not let Master’s parting gift go to waste. She would make his dream come true!

Now if she could only find the freaking thing!

This particular one- an Upper moon she believed- was rather elusive. Anytime she got close enough to cut her head off clean, she’d strum her Biwa and the room would shift. One minute Mitsuri was above her, the next she was free falling into yet another part of the tower.

“THAT IS IT!” She raged as she stood, racing through more hallways. The changing made her head hurt, and she was sure if she saw another Biwa after this the instrument would only play sour notes. Still- she had to pursue!

Flying high, she raised her sword, the witch once again in sight. “I’ve gotcha now-”

And then there was a door.

Smacking her then and there, pain exploded across her body as Mitsuri flew off the edge. Her nose was bleeding- but she didn’t know if it was from pain or embarrassment.

Or both. Most likely both.

Falling backwards, she knew it was not gonna end well. Her body was already sore from crashing into various walls and floors. This time she suspected she wouldn’t make it.

Suddenly, arms were around her, and she was flying. Blinking, she barely registered her savior before they rolled onto a nearby column. “I-Iguro-san!” She gasped, staring up at him. Her heart did a hundred funny things then as she looked into those concerned mismatched eyes.

And then her face burned, shame bringing her back to reality. “I’m so sorry- I got ahead of myself.” She moaned as she covered her face. “Forgive me!”

“It’s quite alright, Kanroji.” He reassured her, helping her to her feet. “You’ve done well. Please be careful- we don’t know how this Upper Moon works or what her abilities are. She very well could have more than we expected. It’s better to analyze her now and look for any openings.”

“Right!” She nodded, the logic in his voice soothing away her nerves. “You be careful too, Iguro-san. This whole room shifting thing isn’t fun to deal with.” Her bruises screamed in agreement, making her wince.

Obanai nodded, a picture of preparation. “Very well. Let’s-” Suddenly the floor split, sending them in different directions. “IGURO!” She cried, barely breathing as he dodged the column. Obanai called out something to her, but before she could react, she was suddenly flying once more, this time towards the ceiling.

With a wall jump and a slash of her blade, she was safe- barely. She shook it off as she turned to glare at the Upper Moon. “You won’t be able to attack me with the same move twice!” She cried, going for an opening.

The room changes, a door opens. She’s falling again.

Well damn.

“GAHHHHH!” She raged as she fell. She was so mad she nearly forgot what Obanai called out to her.

“MITSURI LOOK OUT!” Was what he called.

Mitsuri.

Mitsuri.

He said her name.

The realization motivated her, pushing her to her feet. “He said my name…I have to live, so I can say his.” She nodded, running once more.

And then…

“Later.” She decided. “I’ll tell him it all later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain would have been appropriate in a situation like this.

Footsteps she knew like the back of her hand came towards her. Gentle hands pulled her up, resting her against a bloody chest. “Kanroji..I’m back.” Obanai’s voice was raspy. He didn’t have long left.

“Please…call me Mitsuri.” She breathed, the phantom pain of her missing arms nearly choking her. There was blood everywhere. She didn’t know who it belonged to. At this point, did it really matter? “Did we…did we do it? Is he dead?” She had to know. She needed to know.

“Yes. He’s gone.” Obanai breathed, blood dripping from the cuts where his eyes once were. She wanted to see them. To run her once there hands along his cheek, brushing away the blood that coated his face and just feel him.

Muzan took that away from her. She hoped he burned wherever he went.

“Good…hey, I can’t feel anything.” She laughed up blood, shaking her head. “I guess I’m dying.”

“I’m dying too.” The words cut, even if she knew it was true. “So you won’t be alone.”

“No…don’t die yet.” She breathed as her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t die yet.” Her voice grew sad then. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t much use in the fight.”

“No, don’t say that. It’s not true.” His voice was so gentle as his hand came up, running through her shredded locks. “Do you remember that day? The day we met?”

“Of course. I got lost in the mansion.” She giggled at the memory, it felt so far now. “You helped me then. Thank you.”

“It’s the other way around.” His voice grew soft as he reflected on all their moments together. The day they met- how she laughed like bells and smiled so warmly at him. How their time together made him feel like they were just normal people living their lives.

“You’ve saved so many people with your bottomless kindness. You should be proud, Mitsuri. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me stand by your side.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she let out a sob, shaking her head. “I’m so- so happy Obanai. Thank you, for always making me feel loved. Meals tasted better with you. I just- I want to do it all again.” She looked up at him through the blurriness, and it was like she could see him for all that he was- human and the love of her life. “If we are to be reborn, please- make me your bride!”

“Of course. If you will have me.” He pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers as the last of her breath faded away. “This time…I’ll be sure to make you the happiest person alive. I won’t let you die next time…Mitsuri, my beloved.”

Thanks for reading!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Treason | Azriel x Reader

Day 4: Blood w/ Azriel

Summary: You come home early from a trip, only to discover a particular Vanserra warming the bed in your place.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Smut, gay sex, naked men, HEAVY angst, cheating, blood, violence (punching), mentions of illness, does not have a happy ending. this is literally just heartbreaking.

A/N: well, azris is now something I’ve written for. this is literally so sad, but gotta have something for angstober, even if I don’t think angst is my strongsuit. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was late when you got home.

You were supposed to stay on your visit to Dawn Court a bit longer, but after falling mildly ill for a few days, you’d decided to cut it off a day or two early and return home. It wasn’t like you were too upset to go see your partner a few days earlier, even if the two of you weren’t mates, you were happy with what you had found.

Or at least you thought you were.

The House was dark when you arrived, the sentient home opening the door for you, quicker than normal, almost. As if urgent, trying to pull you along.

You didn’t want to wake Azriel, assuming he was asleep by now. He rarely got good sleep these days, getting up in the middle of the night to take flights, saying he needed to sort his thoughts. You didn’t blame him. His work wasn’t exactly the best for his mental state.

Sitting down at the table, you waited for the House to give you a meal, per usual, but it didn’t happen.

You waited a few seconds, pausing, and glancing around as if to see the reason for the delay around the room.

“House? Can I…have food?”

You whispered to the thin air, knowing you probably sounded stupid. Hesitantly, you knocked on the wood, raising a brow in confusion, waiting a few more seconds before getting up from your chair with a sigh, deciding that you could just get your own food.

You walked quietly over to the cabinets, hand closing around the cold metal that felt a bit warmer tonight. The House itself felt warmer, almost uncomfortably so. Maybe the House was just having an off day, you couldn’t think of any other reason for its strange behavior.

As if to prove your point, when you pulled on the cabinet, instead of opening, it remained stubbornly shut, as if glued by someone.

Maybe another one of Cassian’s “jokes”.

So you tried another cabinet, the one that held the bread, and it also stubbornly refused to open.

After trying cabinet after cabinet, drawers, and more, you discovered that everything refused to open. It was as if the Mother herself had just decided to make you go to bed hungry.

Sighing, you gave up, deciding to just eat in the morning, quietly starting to pad down the hallway, rolling on the balls of your feet to keep your steps silent, not wanting to wake anyone.

Cauldron knows Nesta would crucify you if you interrupted her beauty sleep.

It was then that you heard it.

The unmistakable sound of sex. Moans and grunting.

You could recognize Azriel’s voice, but not the other one in the room that you and he shared.

You froze in place, almost stopping breathing as a sick feeling twisted in your gut, different from the nasty illness you’d gotten in Dawn. No, this wasn’t a physical sickness, it was a mental one. You tried to convince yourself that your assumptions were wrong, that you were overthinking and this was all just a big misunderstanding.

That you’d be able to fold into Azriel’s warm, strong arms like nothing had happened after this, that he would still be your safe place.

An invisible hand, familiar but alien at the same time, urged you forward, whispering into your ear.

Keep going, it said.

You must see, it murmured into your ear.

It felt like the wind raking through your hair, a gentle caress that was there and gone, a sad melancholy that seemed to already know there was no happy ending to this story. You’d been doomed from the moment you stepped into the House.

And so you continued walking.

You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination or not, but the air seemed to grow thicker, suffocating, wrapping hands around your throat and squeezing until you were almost hyperventilating when you walked. It was warmer here.

Much warmer than the House usually kept it at.

The hallway seemed to stretch on indefinitely, and you walked and walked and walked until the door was standing in front of you, handle staring at you.

Laughing at you.

Your shaky palm enveloped the handle, turning, pushing, unveiling the scene in the bedroom.

In your bedroom.

Your bed.

The other male was below him. Red locks that had a silver gleam in the dim light were strewn above him like a crown on the pillow that his face was shoved into. His ass was in the air, back arched, knees pushing into the bed.

Azriel was bare just like the other male. Kneeling behind him. Hovering over him.

Inside of him.

His hips pushed forwards and backward, a rhythm that seemed to taunt you, a rhythm you’d experienced before, but never quite so frenzied, never so excited or eager like it was his first time all over.

His wings were flared out, casting a deep shadow over the Vanserra beneath him. The Heir beneath him.

The enemy beneath him.

The door had swung open, the knob finally hitting the wall, and immediately Azriel snapped over to look at you, eyes widening.

You didn’t even know if you were crying. Everything felt numb, like a dream you could reach but not quite hold. Your limbs tingled, some sort of anger, or maybe sadness building, an outburst.

You could feel it coming as you watched, eyes dead, face blank.

Eris groaned at Azriel stopping, turning his head to look at him, but catching your eye as he saw you. He inhaled sharply.

The room went cold.

The candle went out.

It went further than just discovering an affair, you knew.

Eris was from another Court.

A Court that currently wasn’t allied with Night Court.

Azriel was essentially committing treason, an act punishable by imprisonment or even death in severe cases. And with Mor’s past with Eris, and how close Rhys was with Mor? There was no doubt in your mind Rhys would be pissed. Mor would be crushed.

Not just treason of the Court, but treason of the family as well.

Azriel seemed to realize this, rearing back away from Eris, the redhead hissing as Azriel yanked out of him. The shadowsinger tried to approach you, pulling a towel around his waist to cover himself.

Another towel was laid on the floor.

They’d both taken a shower in your bathroom.

The bathroom you and Azriel had shared once.

That sick feeling in your stomach traveled up and up, metastasizing through your blood, reaching your head and a blind anger overcame you.

Your head felt white hot, molten, almost.

Magma filled your veins, but not in the usual way it had in the past with Azriel.

His lips were moving. He was talking, saying something. You couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears.

You didn’t bother trying to listen as that magma slid into your hands, your knuckles and fingers as your fist landed right on his jaw. Just like Cassian had taught you.

Just like Nesta had taught you.

He visibly recoiled, head spinning, Eris was on his feet now, baring his teeth.

You were yelling, words that tasted like iron and spoiled milk and rotten food that had been left out for too long leaving your lips, hands balled into fists again.

Something warm and wet was sliding down your cheeks.

Azriel kept saying something over and over, the same words leaving him, and it was only when a smarter part of your brain managed to finally listen, did you hear it.

“He’s my mate.”

You heard the choked sobs coming from him now and saw Eris rushing to him, trying to comfort him. The instincts in full control.

Then your senses picked up on it, your body kicking into overdrive and processing faster and faster now that your fight or flight had snapped.

They were mated. Freshly.

They had used your away time to seal the mating bond.

You knew you should feel bad for the crimson liquid dripping down Azriel’s nose from another punch you must’ve thrown, not even remembering properly anymore.

You should be happy for them.

But instead, you turned on your heel, walking out of the room into the hallway, only to see Cassian with bleary eyes walking over, visibly confused, and Nesta close behind.

But she knew. You could tell.

By that anger in her eyes that matched what you felt. The silver lurching in her icy blue eyes. She saw you, and murmured something to Cassian, him nodding, and she walked over to your side.

No words were said.

None needed to be.

She knew where you were going already. A place that was always safe, no matter what. The library door wasn’t locked like the cabinets had been. It never was.

You walked in, and that strange presence wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting. You walked and walked and kept walking, the labyrinth of bookshelves giving their condolences as you passed.

You only stopped walking when you reached a small nook, an area with windows of stained glass, moonlight gleaming through them and color splaying out on the floor, onto you and Nesta as you stopped and sat on the floor, back to the wall.

She sat next to you.

You leaned forward, curling inwards, only then breaking open and letting every shard of broken glass spill out of your eyes as sobs wracked your body, shaking you, cracking the stone foundation you’d built yourself on.

The sand that had felt like stone until the storm came.

Until you had to mourn someone who was still alive.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

[justaweasel]

Obey me but I am actively crying as I write this (not anymore I'm okay)

Satan has a type of inferiority complex. It's mostly because he's technically the youngest. But he sees everything this siblings have done and compares himself constantly. Especially to Lucifer.

One time the brothers played a little game for funsies, maybe like one of those stupid little games of hide and seek.

Satan was it and had found everyone relatively quickly, however, Lucifer was left.

He had honestly given it his best to find his brother, and imagined Lucifer's voice taunting him as he tried so hard. He looked everywhere. The more he looked, the more his insecurity surged. He thought more and more of his smug older brother's face as he looked.

Eventually, he broke down. He stomped and furniture was hurled to the floor. Doors slammed and windows shattered.

Lucifer came out of hiding of course but seeing his face only made Satan angrier.

Of course he couldn't find him on his own. Lucifer had to come out just so he could find him. How pathetic.

He almost slammed the door off of its hinges. The sound echoing through the trashed house.

That night wasn't a restful one for Satan. The thoughts swirled through his head. How pathetic he was, how right now he wallowed in his loathing of himself. No matter what he'd do or accomplish, he'd be a second-rate Lucifer.

Whatever he achieved was short in comparison to what Lucifer had done. Whatever he bragged about Lucifer seemed to one-up him without trying. Nothing mattered because it was all, Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer. What he created was just an extension of Lucifer's accomplishments.

They all treated him like a kid, like lesser, but he's just as important and knowledgeable as them. Can't they see that for what it is? Isn't he important too? Isn't he someone with thoughts, feelings and emotions separate to Lucifer?

Never. He would never have that. He does his best to hide it. But it always tears it's way through the mental prison he's made for it. Locked up in what no one else would see. His thoughts blocked by a thick wall of fog.

The next morning they called it a hissy fit.

Was that all it boiled down to for them?? His feelings of shame and inner hatred of himself boiled down to a mere hissy fit? Was that truly how they saw him? How they saw his feelings? As if that whirlpool of feelings didn't suck him into their depths? As if he didn't feel the weight of his life and the circumstances of existence crush down on him until he was a screaming mess with no other way to deal with his emotions other than to make noise? Was that all he amounted to in their heads?

Let's just say Satan didn't come out of his room that night. Or the night after.

[writer-by-the-sea]

Um, hi! I'm new and I really like your works!

I want to make a request for Haley and Penny (separate) if that's okay with you!

Scenario: how would they react when they find out that their s/o, the farmer, used to be a member of the Mafia? A hitman to be exact, but they've changed and left that life behind.

I don’t think I’ve ever done a full on headcanon before, but I figured why not! 

Instead of doing mini fics for only two characters, I am going to attempt to write these thoughts into a slightly coherent but readable mess. WARNING: These do not all end happily. Some are very heavy angst and they break up with you.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“There’s… something I need to tell you,” the farmer began, rubbing the back of their neck while they looked away from the person in front of them. Someone that they’ve come to love, to trust enough to finally open up to, and someone who might understand.”Before moving to Stardew… I was... Part of a very bad crowd,” they pause and take a deep breath. “Not just a little group of delinquents that spray paint the side of buildings.

“Something.. Far worse. I know that you might view me differently because of this but– I want you to know who I truly am. I never want to lie to you, and while I wanted to keep this secret buried deep inside; I care about you too much to allow you to continue dating me without knowing… 

“I was a hired killer, an assassin, a hitman.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Alex

“Hey, man, you don’t have to lie to me to look cool,” Alex laughed and gave you a thumbs up. “You’re already really cool in my book.” 

You grimace before saying, “Alex, I’m not lying.” 

“Oh,” he breathes out. A minute passes, the gears turning in his head as he thinks it over. “Ohhh.” 

“Yeah, oh,” you reply. “I understand if you need some space–” 

Alex leaned back into his bed, letting himself land softly on his back. “Gramps has killed a few guys, so I’m not really worried about it.” 

You look down at him and raise a single brow, “Wasn’t that in war though?” 

“It was, but it’s the same thing, isn’t it?” 

“Not.. really.” 

Alex shrugs and sighs, “if you asked him for stories, he would spend the rest of the day telling you every single bloody detail. I’ve heard them all a thousand times.” He sat up, dropping her face to a sneer and pulled his lips back. “During that war,” he began, perfectly mimicking his grandfather. “I killed fitty men! I collected their earlobes and wore them around my neck like a trophy!” 

You laughed, bumping your shoulder into Alex. “Okay, that’s a little fucked up actually.” 

“You haven’t even heard the worst of it,” he answered with a grin. “He likes to tell this story about the time they had to go save some guy–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, gently placing your fingertips against his lips to stop him. “I just.. I want you to know that I love you, and that all of that shit is in the past… but I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this.” 

Alex pushed your hands away with his lips, laughing again as he pulled back. “It’s alright, I get it. Just don’t keep anything else from me, okay?” 

You nodded and pulled him into your arms, giving him a good squeeze. “I promise.” 

Alex slid out of your arms and ran to his bedroom door, swinging it open before playfully glaring at you. “As punishment for not telling me in the first place!” He took a really deep breath filling his lungs before shouting “Grandpa! The farmer wants to hear all your war stories!” 

Alex wasn’t scared of you. Afterall, nothing you’ve done could ever compare to the stories he grew up with. He knew his grandpa regretted the choices he made, but sometimes, you have to do cruel things to survive. 

Elliott

Elliott quickly grabbed his wine, downing the glass in one huge gulp before placing it back onto the table. “What you’re telling me,” he whispered, his gaze focused on the empty wine glass. “You’re being truthful? This isn’t a jest?” 

“No,” you answered, scooting your chair closer to his. “Just.. I know you’re in shock right now, but please just give me a chance to explain–”

“This is wonderful news!” Elliott jumped up from his chair, darting to a notebook that lies open with scribbles across the pages. He sprinted back, throwing himself back into the chair as harshly it nearly toppled over with him in it. “Tell me, what does another man’s eyes look like as you choke the life out of him?” 

“W-what?” you stammered, glancing down at the notebook that was now on the table where Elliott held his quill above it, ready to write. “Are you trying to get a confession from me?” 

“Heavens no!” He replied with a laugh, putting his quill down and turning to grab your hands. “My next novel is a murder mystery! I would love to have your feedback.” 

“You’re kidding,” you replied, your mouth hanging open. 

“Not at all, my love!” Elliott smiled so brightly, you would have thought you just told him his book had a million sales; not that you used to kill people for a living. “It truly is destiny that we were to meet!” 

“Do… Are you okay with my past?” 

“Ah,” Elliott nodded, understanding now why you seemed so hesitant with your words. “We all have our demons, don’t we, darling? If I were ever to judge every person I knew by the skeletons in their closet.. Well, life wouldn’t be very fun, now would it?” 

“I’m…” you tried to focus, confusion swirling in your head making everything foggy and hard to follow. “What?” 

Elliott was already back to his notebook, licking the pad of his thumb while he flipped through the pages. “This part here,” he held the book out to you, the page filled with brainstorms and more messy scribbles. “Could you fact check it for me? I honestly don’t know what a man sounds like when he gets stabbed like this. Also, the shoulder would be a good spot for them to survive from a stab, right?” 

You laughed, shaking your head at this ridiculous man. “Well, actually, there’s a main artery that going along the shoulder–” 

Part of you wasn’t surprised that Elliott was excited to discuss bloody, brutal, cold murder with you. Although, the writer did make a point the next day to scold you for keeping the secret from him. He could have finished his novel even sooner, and… he could have told you how much he loves you and would never give you up. 

In fact, he would help you get away with murder. 

Harvey

“No,” Harvey stood abruptly, his knee hitting his kitchen table and nearly knocking his coffee over, the hot liquid jumping out of the mug and onto the table. “Shoot!” he cried as the coffee landed on some of his folders that were spread out. 

You joined him in grabbing napkins, trying to clean the coffee before it caused too much damage. 

“I can’t believe this,” he whispered as he tossed the dirty napkins aside, uncaring of where they would land. “Not you, not my farmer, no…” 

You pressed your lips together, trying to hold back your emotions. “Harvey–” 

Then he broke before you, a sob ripping through his throat right before he began sobbing. His glasses getting wet and foggy as he let each tear slide down his cheeks. “Not you…” 

“Please, I just–” 

Harvey straightened up, taking a deep breath and forced himself to meet your eyes. “I have dedicated my whole life to helping those who need it. I took an oath to assist any single soul that cries for help. If a patient dies on my table, I have to live with that for the rest of my life. The rest of my life knowing that I couldn’t do enough for them!” 

Your eyes widen, dread filling you as you realize this is the end. “Harvey, please–” 

“Get out,” he growled, his voice deep, dangerous, and oozing with hatred. 

“Let me explain–” 

“For you to come to me, and tell me that you took human lives for your own gain? I don’t need to hear another word,” Harvey took a step towards you, his body tensing, preparing to fight you if he must. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

Everything in you wanted to stay, to fight for what you had… 

You left, crying on your way back to the farm, your heart shattered beyond repair. 

Sam

“For real?” Sam's face scrunched in disbelief. “No, you’ve gotta be joking. Ain’t no way the hot farmer killed some dudes.” 

While your hands may have been tough from constantly working in the dirt, Sam could never imagine in a million years that you would kill a fly on the wall, let alone another human being!

“Is it April Fool’s? It is, isn't it?” he joked and nudged you. “Well, you got me–” 

“Sam,” you breathed out in reply, the truth hanging between you. 

“Holy shit,” Sam stood slowly, taking a step back from you. “You’re serious? You’ve actually killed people?” 

“Yes.” 

“Dude…” he ran a hand through his wild hair, not caring how the gel stuck to his fingers. 

He needed more information, but right now, he needed to make one thing clear. 

“Look,” he started and made his way back to you, dropping himself on his mattress next to you. “Like, I’m not gonna dump you over this; but keeping that from me was seriously not cool.” 

“I know,” you mumbled in reply and offered a weak smile. “I just–” 

Sam raised a hand, cutting you off. “No, we’re gonna talk about this later, after we’ve both had some pizza, and maybe a couple… or an entire case of beer. You’re gonna break all this shit down for me, and then we’re gonna talk about how you’re doing like.. Mentally. After doing all that shit.” 

“Mentally?” you asked with a laugh. “What--” 

“Nope,” Sam stood and grabbed your hand. “Pizza first, you asshole. I can’t believe you killed people, so fucking weird.” 

Sam was in it for the long run, and while he viewed you differently (as like, a cold blooded killer what the fuck,) he wasn’t going to give up on you just because of a dark past. 

Sebastian

“I mean, who hasn’t?” 

Your head whips up to stare back at Sebastian, not sure you just hear those words correctly. “Wait–” 

“You think I haven’t killed a man? Why do you think I hide out in the basement coding shit all day instead of living in the city and making a fortune? Be realistic.” 

“Sebastian, I–” 

“No, it’s cool. I really don’t care,” he said with a shrug and went back to typing on his computer. 

“Well, no, wait; Sebastian that’s a lot to drop on someone–” 

“Hey, I wasn’t a fucking hitman though now was I?” 

“I don’t know, were you?!” 

He shrugs again, reaching for an open pack of cigarettes and lights one up. He takes a deep drag and then blows it out slowly. “I’m gonna go get some leftover pumpkin soup, I made it last night, you want some?” 

You just stare back at him, your jaw hanging open. Now you were the one that needed more information! 

But, you supposed that could wait. Pumpkin soup was on the line, afterall. 

Shane

He takes a sip of his soda, savoring the flavor and bubbles before putting his can back down on the kitchen table. 

“So,” he began, forcing himself to sit up straight and meet your eyes. 

“Are you here to kill me then?” 

“What?” 

“Are you.. here, to kill me?” Shane asked again, slowly. 

“No!” you shouted and waved your hands in front of you like a white flag. “You’ve got the wrong idea!” 

“I’m not telling you how I made the chickens blue, you can beat me to the brink of death and I’ll never spill–” 

“Shane, babe, no– well actually how do you–” you stopped speaking as Shane glared at you and narrowed his eyes. “Nevermind the chickens, I’m not here to kill you.” 

“To kill Marnie then?” He asks. “To end the competition for milk and eggs? You make me sick,” he spit. 

“No, what? I turn all my milk into cheese to make you Pepper Poppers or Pizza–” 

“Then the eggs!” He declares and stands up, pointing a finger down where you sat. 

“Please, just listen to me,” you stood with him, on the verge of tears knowing that this could be the end–

Shane’s frown twitched, so quick you could almost miss it. 

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. 

“Oh, I see. You came here to kill Willy, with your gaping fish mouth.” 

Any doubt or worries you had dropped instantly. “You’re totally fucking with me, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I found your list of names a few months ago. You really shouldn’t leave that stuff lying around you know?” 

“Yoba,” you sighed in relief and dropped back into your chair, the wood lightly squeezing on the tiled floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You kept your head down, ashamed to have ever tried to hide this from him. 

Shane chuckled and sat back down, “I figured you’d tell me when the time was right.” 

You risked a glance at Shane, “do you hate me for it.” 

“Hate you? Of all people to hate someone for the mistakes they made in their past, you think I’m going to be one of them? I’m a little offended, farmer.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cracked a smile as he gazed at you, his eyes filled with all of the love and support in the world. 

He was right, Shane would never judge you for your past, just as you never judge him for his. The only thing that matters is the kind of person you are moving forward, and that suits him just fine. 

Abigail

The first thing she asks, with a wicked grin and excited eyes, “So, how many people did you kill?” 

While she knows the value of a human life, she could never allow her thoughts to wander towards ‘what if I killed someone?’ She feared she may pursue it herself. 

“What was your weapon of choice?” she would ask next, hardly containing the buzz flowing through her body from the quick high; knowing she was talking to (dating!) a certified badass killer. 

She does view you differently, however. 

Not as an evil person, as you might have expected; but someone strong enough to protect her, someone who told her this knowing that she might turn away from them, someone who loves her enough to put her first. 

The subject is sensitive, and she knows not to tease you too much or ask for too many details; but she does ask for the occasional story – if you’re willing to give it. 

Emily

She gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stares back at you in horror. “W-what do you m-mean,” she stumbles over her words, her hands now shaking as she lowers them away from her face, trying to steady them as they rest in her lap. “You.. you actually, ki–” she can’t finish the sentence. 

“I did what I had to, to get by. Please understand that I’m not a bad person-” 

“You killed people,” she dropped her head and watched as tears fell into her lap. “You actually killed people…” 

“Emily–” 

“How can I trust you after this?!” She jumped up, still shaking while she paced around her room. “How can I know that you’re not withholding more?!” 

You stood and put your hands on her shoulders, holding her in place, but she refused to meet your eyes. “I swear to you, I will never hide something from you again… if you just give me a chance to prove myself.” 

Emily dropped her head onto your shoulder, softly sobbing and letting her tears drip onto your shirt. “You’re going to tell me everything.” 

“Okay,” you whispered back, your arms moving down to wrap around her. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

There would be a lot of trust issues moving forward, and Emily would keep you on a tight leash for a while; but she knew that not everyone was perfect, and while she might not like your past, she loves who you are now. And she’s not willing to give up yet. 

Haley

She looked up from her phone, her brow dropping down and her eyes narrowing, “Ew.” 

You tried not to snort a laugh at her reply, but failed miserably. “That’s all you have to say? Ew?” 

She rolled her eyes at you, “what else am I supposed to say? Oh no, please don’t kill me, super scary hitman?” 

“Uh,” you looked around you as if you could find the answer hovering in the air. “I’m.. not.. sure, honestly.” 

Another eyeroll. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it’s worth. I’m still going to love you no matter what dumb shit you’ve done in your past. I mean, did you know that I dyed my hair black once? Also, ew. Total regret.” 

Bewildered, you plopped down beside her, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t care?” 

“Ugh. Of course I care,” she slapped you on the side and finally put her phone aside. “But you obviously regret it, like I did with the black hair, and while our past mistakes may have been huge; it doesn’t dictate who we are today. So, don’t worry about it.” 

“You realize you’re comparing black hair to the murder of a.. Lot of people?” 

“Babe,” she took a deep breath, staring deep into your eyes, begging you to understand… 

“I used a box dye. Tell me a worse crime than that.” 

You laughed together, her crime never coming close to your misdeeds, and she knew it. But after getting to know you, she knew she could continue to trust you just as she always has. 

Leah

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Leah threw her paintbrush at you, hitting you in the chest and leaving a splotch of yellow paint. “Not again!” 

“Again?!” you shouted back in shock. “What do you mean again!?”

“Tell me,” she hissed. “How many, what organization, and why the hell did you make me fall in love with you?!” 

“Leah,” 

“Do. Not. Leah. Me.” Each word spit in your direction. “Answer me.” 

You sighed, “it was a lot of people.. The organization was international and I never really knew who was in charge..” Closing your eyes, just to get away from her angry glare for a moment, you continued, “I never meant to mislead you. I wanted to tell you the truth to see if I even still stood a chance with you.” 

Leah relaxed, shaking her head before finding a place to sit down. “Thanks, for telling me, I guess.” 

Moving to her side, you kneeled next to her, taking her paint stained hands into your own. “Please, just give me a chance to make this up to you. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“Yeah, well. You did,” she gently pulled her hands away, turning away from you. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can go through this again.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re never fully out of that life, farmer. That past will come back to haunt you one day, and I don’t think I have the strength to endure it.” 

“No, Leah, it’s over, I swear–” 

“Just leave, okay? I have a lot to think about.” 

Dejected, you do as you're told, stopping to say one last thing before you go. “I hope you’ll give me another chance, Leah. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. 

She sniffles and wipes a tear away, “we’ll see.” 

Maru

She begins by tilting her head at you, her eyes scanning you up and down before turning back to her studies. “I know that, it’s pretty obvious.”

“Huh?!” you blurt out, shaking your head. “How–” 

Maru sighed and put her work aside, realizing that they needed to have a full chat about this now, despite her samples calling for her. 

“Once, you mentioned the amount of required poison to kill a person without raising suspicion to require an autopsy.” 

“Okay, but–”

“Another time, when my dad asked if you wanted to go camping one weekend and maybe hunting, you asked if a Heckler & Koch P30L would be an appropriate gun to bring.”

“I’ve never been hunting before!” you defended, weakly. 

“Sweetheart, it’s a handgun. You don’t go hunting with a handgun.” 

“Hang on–”

“Furthermore, you have two bullet wounds that I know of. One on your lower left calf and the other on your upper bicep. You also have obvious scars from being stabbed or sliced and it was most certainly not from a childhood cat.” 

You both stared at one another. You felt like an idiot for thinking you could ever hide anything from her. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“A little,” she admitted with a small shrug. “So long as you don’t go back into that kind of work though, I can get over it. Just don’t ever try to lie to me again, I will always know.” 

Penny

Her eyes widen and her heartbeat jumps so quickly she thinks she might faint.

She would have never expected this of you. 

Going into the mines was one thing, but killing people was a whole other level of insanity. 

It takes her a minute to process what you’ve just told her, her hands twisting in her lap, fearing she’s going to say the wrong thing. 

“Were they all bad people?” she finally asks, lifting her eyes up to meet yours. 

You take a moment to respond, a lie resting at the tip of your tongue, but you squash it and say, “No, they weren’t.” 

At this, Penny breaks. 

She drops her head into her hands and cries, pulling her knees up and to her chest while the heels of her feet rest on the edge of the couch. 

She was in love with you. So desperately, eagerly, pathetically in love with you. 

And now, she doesn’t know how to move forward. 

Her whole life, she has dealt with bad people. From the moment she was born she has fought with everything she’s ever had to be one of the good ones. Abiding by the rules, keeping to herself to avoid stepping on any toes, taking care of others when they don’t even appreciate the kindness she shows to them. 

“I don’t-” she gasped between her tears. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

The farmer nodded, taking her hands into their own and squeezing them gently. “I love you, Penny. More than anything.” 

“Why did you have to tell me?” she whispered. “Why..” 

“I couldn’t keep lying to you..” 

Penny stood, ripping her hands away to rope the back of them under her eyes. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to me ever again.”

Then she ran off, leaving you there as the guilt washed over you. 

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Lay me down gently

Summary: When I’m ready to fall, will you let go of my hand?

Pairing: past Natasha Romanoff x female!reader, platonic Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: death, heavy angst, depression, wandavision didn’t happen

Word count: 1391

a/n: too dark? Too sad?

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

It’s been a year since the day Y/N lost everything. Most of the people have already done the work to start moving on, but she hasn’t been able to do that. How could she? The love of her life, the woman who she was supposed to marry and live the rest of her life with, died.

Natasha sacrificed herself to save the world.

And Y/N loves her for that, she also hates her for it. She wishes Natasha would’ve been selfish. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hopes Natasha would’ve let Clint died, but she’ll never say that out loud. She knows Clint has the same wish. He has been trying to earn her forgiveness since that day. Even though, she has told him multiple times he doesn’t have to, that she has already forgiven him.

It’s not entirely untrue. Y/N would just prefer not to be around him. However, it’s difficult when his whole family is trying to get her to join them for family events. She doesn’t want to do that. Her family is gone, she doesn’t want another one.

During the year, Y/N has been locked up in her bedroom at the Avenger’s compound, she can’t go back to their home. It’s not her home anymore, the house never was, Natasha is the one that made it her home. She has continued working as an Avenger, doing her best to help the blipped people to get back into their lives. Besides, the crime never stops.

Her teammates have tried their best to get her out of the room, but all of them except Wanda have given up.

Wanda is a saint. She lost her home too, yet she is trying to help Y/N instead of herself. Y/N thinks she’s trying to escape the feeling of sorrow, just like she is by sleeping and rotting in her bed. She appreciates her friend, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Y/N sits in the Quinjet as the team flies towards their destination. Only a small part of the team was chosen for the mission, Steve, Tony, Wanda, and Y/N. It’s supposed to be a quick, in and out mission. They never are.

Tapping on her shoulder brings Y/N back to the present. She turns to the side to see Wanda gently smiling at her. She looks tired of trying, but Y/N knows Wanda would never stop.

“How are you?” Her voice is soft, as if Y/N would shatter if it was any louder. She might.

“Good.” A blatant lie, but Wanda accepts it with a nod. Y/N’s voice is hoarse and it breaks at every other word, it has lost the gentleness of it. She hasn’t spoken a lot during the year. She hasn’t had any reason to talk.

“Good.” Wanda nods again. Her eyes shift through the Quinjet, she’s desperately looking for something. “They’re holding these things,” she starts carefully, “like support groups, for people who lost family during the blip.” She pauses, waiting for Y/N to say something, anything. “Would you like to go with me? I could really use someone familiar there with me.”

Y/N turns to look at Wanda. She has such a hopeful smile on her face, and Y/N hates disappointing her, but they both know what her answer is going to be. “No.”

“Okay.” Wanda whispers, still holding a smile on her face. She doesn’t want her to know how affected she is by the numerous failed attempts of trying to help her friend. “Just let me know if I can help you in any way.”

Nodding, Y/N falls back into her own world, where she stays for the rest of the flight.

They land the Quinjet on top of an abandoned building. It’s supposed to be a HYDRA base that is no longer in use.

Steve checks the perimeter, returning to the other three when nothing catches his eyes. “Tony and I will go inside, you two stay up here in case someone tries to surprise us.” Y/N and Wanda nod.

Tony opens one of the vents on the roof and drops down, Steve following right behind him. The Quinjet turns invisible to hide from prying eyes.

The wind blows softly as Y/N and Wanda stand in silence. Although Wanda keeps a vigilant eye out on the perimeter, she can’t help but keep glancing at Y/N. She seems like she isn’t even there anymore, not emotionally at least.

A feeling of something wrong grows in her body. “Y/N.” She swallows. “I’m worried.”

“About?” Y/N’s eyes don’t even glance at Wanda.

“That if I don’t do something, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sometimes it’s better to do nothing.”

Wanda doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t have time to voice this, as a contained explosion rattles the concrete beneath their feet.

“The building is not empty!” Steve’s voice comes through the comms right as all the vents to the roof open and a group of HYDRA soldiers rush out.

Y/N takes out her weapons and Wanda’s eyes turn red as they start fighting the soldiers. They can hear Steve and Tony struggling as they fight inside the building. The soldiers are ruthless, and they don’t seem to be lessening no matter how much they fight them.

A groan leaves Y/N’s mouth as she gets hit by something hard to the back of her head. She shoots whoever did it, but her legs stumble closer to the edge. She shakes her head to make the fuzziness go away.

Lifting her head up, her eyes widen. The only thing she sees is a bright blast coming right towards her.

It hits her in the chest, causing her to fly over the edge.

“Y/N!” Wanda runs to the edge, pushing the soldiers out of her way.

The wind is rushing past Y/N’s ears as she falls. She can only see the sky and Wanda, who gets smaller and smaller every second, from her view the red hair looks almost like Natasha’s. There’s a smile on her face.

Natasha.

She knows her girlfriend would want her to give up, but she couldn’t be mad at her for wanting to be with her again. Y/N knows she’d be more than happy to see her face again.

As the time to act gets shorter and shorter, Wanda’s eyes turn red, readying her magic to soften Y/N’s landing. Because unexpectancy of her magic, she peeks into her mind, not on purpose, but it’s still just as clear. That fraction of a second in her mind and the blatant smile on Y/N’s face makes her pause. The pause is long enough for her eyes to turn back to normal. Everything rushes around in her mind as she tries to make sense of the situation, as she tries to get her head back to the present and just lift her up. But a feeling deep inside her makes Wanda unable to act.

A feeling she knows neither of them can escape. Unless…

She watches as Y/N falls and she wants to rips her eyes away, but she can’t do that to her friend. She has to be there for her one last time.

Wanda finally looks away after the impact. Her ears are ringing and the team is shouting over the comms but she can’t hear them. She heaves as she drops to her knees, a burst of magic leaving her body as she screams, pushing any enemy left down the building. Her eyes are turning blurry from all the tears rushing out, she isn’t sure if she’s tasting blood or bile in her mouth. Her whole body shakes from the sobs.

She did the right thing.

Her nails dig into her palms as the scene of Y/N falling down replays in her mind over and over again. She’s pretty sure someone is trying to talk to her through the comms, trying to find out what just happened.

Surely, she did the right thing.

“Y/N is dead.” Wanda gasps out, her voice weak as the words tumble out. They seem so wrong, so unfair. She screws her eyes shut, dropping her forehead against the cold roof under her.

The guilt will eat her alive.

[bamboobooshark]

BUCKY BARNES X READER

﹒⌗ ⚜️ ౨ ♰ ˚₊‧ HOLD ON : 2.5K WRDS

<RATING: PG-13, VIOLENCE, DEATH, SIMILAR CONTENT>

This is a lil smthn smthn for my pookie!! This is also my first time writing angst!! So prepare for this to be not so good as my fluff stuff (there is going to be a bit of fluff at the beginning though). !!WARNINGS: angst, character deaths (reader and character), crying, blood, guns, eventual suicide!!

Christmas time. You and Bucky always enjoyed it. The two of you loved the cold weather, the small lights that dimly lit the city at night, the soft layers of snow covering the ground, all of it was so gorgeous. The wind was hitting your faces causing both of your noses to get a bit drippy. Besides all the sniffles and full body shivers, you and Bucky were enjoying you winter night stroll. You held each other’s hands, fingers tightly intertwined to show your affection and to keep warm.

It isn’t long before you two are close to arriving at your apartment building. You can’t tell whether you or Bucky is more excited to cuddle and get cozy, but it doesn’t matter.

It won’t matter.

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He grips your hand tightly. His muscles tense so hard his arm begins to tremble. You shoot him a confused glare. Why is he so shaken? Is he worried? Why won’t he answer you?

You and Bucky thought Hydra was done with him. It had been years since he last had to deal with them. Neither of you would’ve expected to quickly be surrounded by several men; several Hydra workers. This isn’t how this night is supposed to end. You’re supposed to go to your flat and make hot cocoa and cuddle and tell each other how much you admire the other.

“Bucky? What’s going on,” you ask, your voice wavering. He finally looks to meet your eyes. They’re wide and glossy. He’s trying his damned hardest to not show it, but he’s just as terrified as you are. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know why they’re here,” he rambles. He stands in front of you, gazing into your eyes deeply. “I need you to listen to me, darling. I love you. I always will. There’s never going to be a day where I forget you. I promise I’ll always remember you,” he assures you, now grasping both of your hands tightly and pressing them to his chest. You shake your head in confusion and disbelief. “Bucky, stop. You’re scaring me,” you plead as tears prick your eyes.

“This could go one of two ways, Barnes,” one of the men speaks. Bucky gives him a glare so hard it makes your breath pause for a few moments. He releases your hands and stands tall. You try desperately to grab his hand back, pawing at his fists pitifully. “Let me handle this,” he whispers to you sweetly. You nod in agreement. Though your body is trembling, you stay as still as you can. You feel lightheaded. Your legs feel like they might give out. You can feel the blood leaving your face, your body going cold like you’re dying.

“The easiest way to go about this is to have you step away from your sweetheart and come with us,” the same man says. His arms cross against his chest tightly before he exhales deeply. “But I know, we all know, that you don’t like things to be easy. You want things the hard way,” he says confidently. Bucky practically growls at the way the man speaks. He can feel what might happen next. He doesn’t even take a moment to look at you before he tugs you against his chest. God, his flesh is warm. So warm, so contrasting to the metal hand the presses against your back compared to the one that holds the back of your head protectively. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take my baby. Not now. Not ever,” he states. His fingers grip onto you tightly like he’ll loose you if you barely slip out of his grasp.

“You’re proving me right,” the man chuckles. The six other Hydra employees surround you and Bucky from a distance. Guns point at you and him from every direction. A knot forms in your stomach. You know that whatever’s about to happen next is inevitable. No matter what either of you do, what either of you say, will save your life or Bucky’s. “I love you, Bucky,” you mutter against the crook of his neck. Hot tears roll down your cheeks while you attempt to hold back your ugly cries. “I know it. I love you too,” he whispers to you, kissing the side of your head.

“No! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky yells, choking back tears.

It takes a moment before your body takes in what happened. Your ears ring from the sound of a gun going off. You feel the most intense, stinging pain in your side. Your hands move from your lover’s back to grip your abdomen. You can’t hold back to ugly cries. You begin to whine and wail, yelling Bucky’s name incoherently. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just give me a second, okay,” he assures as he falls to the ground with you. He holds you closely in his lap, climbing on top of you to protecting you. He does his best to cover your head and chest, that way you can’t be shot again without the Hydra employees shooting him as well. He struggles to shimmy his coat off before ripping a long strip of it off with his teeth, using his metal arm for some extra power. You cooperate the best you can, lifting your stomach and pressing against him so he can wrap the fabric around your waist. You groan loudly in pain as he fastens it as tight as he can. “Shh. I know it hurts, baby. I know. Bare with me, though. This will save your life,” he says as he presses his head to yours.

“I’m not going back to that hellhole,” he declares with nothing but determination in his voice. He’s not letting you die tonight. He’s not going back to Hydra. He’s not allowing himself to forget you. No fucking way. “Step away from them, Barnes. This is your last warning before we have to start using more force than necessary,” the leader says with feigned sincerity. He growls in responde while shaking his head no. He stays pressed to you, not giving any verbal response to the Hydra men. His tears drip down his cheeks and onto your clothes. You’ve never seen him give you such a pitiful, desperate, affectionate gaze. You’re hoping you’ll never have to see him like this again. He whispers how much he loves you, how he can’t wait until you get stitched up so he can hug you as tight as he physically can, that he’s so excited to see your reaction to what he got you for Christmas. You try your best to reciprocate, gritting your teeth and tensing while you speak. You feel like you can barely hold on despite the pressure of his torn coat slowly stopping the bleeding. It feels too late for miracles, for prayers, for anything to stop this.

“Can you hold on for me, sweetheart? Could you do that for me,” he asks tenderly, his warm hand coming down to caress your cheek. You lean into his touch lovingly. You can feel his pulse against your jaw. You can smell his hands; the usual scent of metal mixed with the soap you’d gotten him months ago for his birthday that he refuses to stop using. You nod in response, choking out a “yeah” for him. He smiles softly and nods in sync with you. “Thank you, baby,” he mumbles.

Nothing but a loud exclamation of “no” comes from your mouth.

Two of the men had used the vulnerable, moment to try and pull Bucky away from you. He resisted, kicking, punching, even biting the men to get them off. “I told you I’m not going back! Espically if you kill my damn spouse,” he barks angrily at them. The leader of the group approaches your entangled bodies.

You can feel Bucky’s chest press against you in an almost sedating manner. The way you can feel his heart against yours. His breaths coming out hard and heavy from his chest. The stuttering of his heartbeat from crying so hard. “I’m telling you to leave us alone. Forget about taking me back. Forget about ever shooting them. Just erase this whole thing from your mind and leave us alone,” he pleads with the man. “I’ll take them to the hospital, say it was a hit and run, we all go home, live a happy life, and pretend none of this ever happened,” he says as a demand rather than a deal.

The figure that stood above you two shook his head no while smiling sadistically. “I’m sorry, but that’s not how this works, James,” he chuckles, your partner’s names sounding like poison coming from his mouth. “You either resist and they die, or you come with us and they live,” he says. You look up at Bucky, biting the inside of your cheek. “Bucky, please. I don’t want you to have to go back. Let me,” you pause, struggling to say the next word. “Let me die,” you mutter through heavy sobs. For the first time in a while, Bucky acts aggressive towards you. “Darling there’s no day, time, or universe I’d let you die like this. You’re getting out of this alive,” he promises you. Your tears blur your vision, your boyfriend lovingly wipes them away with his thumb as he looks up at the male. “You’re not taking their life. There’s no way I’m letting any of you take their life away from them,” he states sternly.

“You’re funny,” the Hydra agent says before you both hear the cocking of a gun. Bucky immediately covers your head and heart with his body. You can’t hear anything but his breathing now. His breathing, his crying, his desperation apparent in the way he inhales and exhales. “If you shoot them, you’re shooting me,” he says before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he tells you again. “I love you too,” you say, as a promise more than a statement to him, one more time.

For the last time.

Another stinging pain courses through you before things go black. Bucky pauses in disbelief, in denial that he left the slightest bit of your head uncovered. He yells out your name as loud as he physically can, tears and pain scratching his throat like a cat’s claws. He’s never letting himself down for this. He can’t. He never can. He sobs, crying himself dry until he’s sputtering and coughing dryly. “You’re sick,” he says quietly. “You’re all fucking sick,” he barks loudly as he holds your bleeding head to his chest.

It’s been weeks. The Hydra agents left Bucky alone to grieve with your death, deciding that would be worse than wiping his memory once more and letting him forget you. He hosted your funeral and now holds your ashes in a small charm of a necklace he doesn’t take off. His mechanical arm rusts with some of your blood still on it. He’s been struggling. Despite having a good support system and being surrounded by the people he cares about, he can’t stand not having the one he cares about most around; you.

He sits on the couch in your shared flat. His eyes glance over to your spot. Your blanket is still draped over the top of the couch the way it was when you two went out walking that dreaded night. Your favorite throw pillow lays on top of the cushion. He lets himself silently cry. He can hear your voice. He can see your smile. He can faintly smell your scent on the items you left behind. Fuck, it’s so hard without you. It’s insufferable. It’s quiet. It’s dull. Life feels more lonely than when he first had his memory wiped. His gaze falls on the Christmas tree. He eyes each of the ornaments. You two had been living together for almost four years and you’d trying to collect trinkets or actual ornaments for the tree. He smiles tenderly, each little item holding a loving moment between the two of you. He looks from the star on the top to the presents at the bottom.

With a pained groan, he lifts himself from the couch. He uses the dim lights from the tree’s lights and the cheesy Hallmark movie on the TV like a flashlight to find one specific present. The box isn’t the biggest, but it sure as hell is special. He unwraps the box and holds it in his hands. The red velvet in his hands doesn’t do anything but make him cry harder and smile bittersweetly.

He opens it to reveal or gorgeous engagement ring. The diamonds in the middle form a star, just like the one that was on his mechanical arm when you two first met. He unclasps the necklace that holds your ashes, slipping the ring onto the chain. He closes it back and grips the two small items in his hand so hard, his knuckles turn white.

“I miss you so bad. I’m so sorry you never got to see this ring. I’m sure you would’ve loved it. Maybe you would’ve thought it was stupid,” he says, talking to what remains of you. “I can’t stand not seeing you,” he sighs. He heads to your bedroom. He wipes some of the liquid that driped from his nose before smiling at your side of the bed. It was still neatly made like the way you left it. He loved the way you would make your side of the bed, and even fix up his side if he didn’t. He reached into his bedside table drawer to grab the lockbox stashed under files and random items. He unlocks it and picks up the revolver inside. He always kept it fully loaded in the case that someone broke in and possibly brought a whole team with them. He never thought he’d be using this thing for an emotional emergency rather than a physical threat. He grabs the sweater off the side of your bed that you wore to sleep the night before the walk. It still smelt like you, had your signature scent that he could always recognize. He wrapped it around his neck in a way that represented a hug from you. He grips the ashes and engagement ring once more, the revolver in the other hand. He lays on the ground and sighs peacefully. He’ll see you soon. He’ll be with you. He knows his headstone will look nice next to yours. He knows that flowers will bloom in the dirt near your graves, moss will cover the headstones, and the stones will age old together for you and Bucky since you two won’t get the chance to. “I love you, sweetheart,” he says before pressing a kiss to the charm holding your remains. He inhales deeply, then exhales for the last time in his life, your ashes and ring still gripped in his hand.

You two didn’t get the chance to grow old together. Your headstones will, though. That’s the beauty of it. That’s your proof that you’ll always love each other.

[kizudnyy]

Letting you go for the brighter future (Maybe In another lifetime, right?)

《 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆𝙎/𝙆𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝘼𝙈𝙄 》

"Loving someone is never a waste,"

"The love letter you left for me back then...."

" I still cherish it."

Keigo Takami, known to the world as Hawks, stood in front of Y/N's grave, the weight of regret heavy on his shoulders.

As he looked down at the engraved letters spelling out her name, memories of their high school years flooded his mind like a relentless tide.

"Y/N," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wish I could turn back time and undo the pain I caused you."

He paused, closing his eyes as the image of Y/N's smiling face filled his mind. The warmth of her laughter echoed in his ears, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"High school was supposed to be a time of laughter and friendship, but for us, it was marred by my foolishness," he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "I thought teasing you was harmless fun, but I failed to see the hurt it caused."

"The love letter," he choked out, his voice trembling with guilt. "I found it too late, buried beneath layers of my own insecurities."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke, the weight of his words threatening to crush him.

"Before I could confess my own feelings, fate intervened," he said, his voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the wind. "I was summoned to the principal's office, only to find your parents there, they were... fucking..  balling their eyes out. I- I was confused and asked them— why we're they there,"

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come out of his mouth.

"They told me you were gone, taken from this world by your own hand," he said, each word heavy with sorrow.

In that moment, the enormity of his loss hit him like a sledgehammer, leaving him gasping for air.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "I should have been there for you. I should have protected you. Im r-really.. fucking sorry... I shouldn't have— I–.."

But it was too late.

No matter how desperate Hawk— Keigo, Keigo Takami was.

Nothing would change.

Years passed, and Keigo rose to become a hero, admired by many for his bravery and strength.

Yet, deep down, he carried the weight of Y/N's confession like a burden too heavy to bear.

And so, he stood before her grave, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he made a solemn vow.

"In the loving memory of Y/N," he said, his voice ringing out in the quiet cemetery. His eyes averted beneath the text, as he continued to read with sorrowful eyes.

"A loving daughter, sister, friend.. forever laid beneath the surface, dreams ... crushed and shall rest in peace."

MASTERLIST

[rat-cannibal]

i have no idea if you write for adam, but here i am

i am the ultimate angst asker, if you're okay with that

adam or lute(ilovewomenbumpersticker) x reader who does in the extermination without them knowing.

- FEED ME A BONE,

carcass

aaaa thank you so much for the request!! i am a fellow lover of women, so I will do Lute at a later date. i wasnt too sure about what you meant by 'does in'. i did give you a sad ending though, so hopefully that makes up for it!

how would adam or lute react to the reader finding out about the exterminations? Part 1

- Adam -

you and adam started dating before he started the exterminations

you're an amazing person - kind, sweet, innocent, everything an angel should be. and also everything Adam isn't.

adam is already so insecure about anything that has to do with hell bc lucifer stole his wives (cue pussy eating hand gesture)

so he doesn't even mention it when he starts thinking about the exterminations

you're suspicious, obviously, because he's going off on so many meetings and is becoming more distant

but you dont say anything because you love adam, and he would never lie to you.. would he?

when adam finally gets his extermination team approved, he's overjoyed

he comes home and immediately kisses the shit out of you

You whine as he pulls away from you, your lips swollen and your face flushed. You try to catch your breath. "Not that I'm complaining, but, uh, what exactly was that about?"

Adam grins widely, squeezing your hands. "What, am I not allowed to kiss my beautiful partner hello?" You sense a hint of deceit in his voice, but choose not to question him about it.

you and adam always sleep in the same bed at nights. you have practically since you started dating.

so when one night he doesn't come home, alarm bells immediately go off in your head

is he cheating on you? maybe he found someone else, someone better

no, you reason, surely he's just held up at work

your suspicions only intensify when he returns the following morning, hair tousled and clothing ruffled

he looks exhausted, like he didn't get any sleep. usually this would indicate a long day at work, but theres a smile on his face that paperwork could never cause

dread grows in your stomach

he greets you happily, like nothing's wrong, and you play along, not wanting to fight with your boyfriend about something that could very well have been a misunderstanding

next year, though, when he disappears again and comes back looking thoroughly satisfied, your suspicions are confirmed.

adam is cheating on you.

you're a very conflict-averse person, so these yearly meetings go on for nearly two decades (time works different in heaven ok just roll with it. 1 year = a month to them basically)

eventually, though, you come home from a hard day of work and Adam isn't there.

that pushes you over the edge. you pack a bag and store it in the closet before going back to your room.

you would look for an apartment in the morning. for now, you just want to sleep.

you wake up and join adam in the kitchen for breakfast. he looks like he always does after these meetings - ruffled, yet satisfied.

"Adam," you say simply, "we need to talk."

"Uh-oh," teases Adam, "am I in trouble?"

"Where were you last night?"

Adam swallows thickly. "What?"

You glare at him. "Where were you last night?"

"I was busy with a work thing - you know how it is, babe, they work me to the bone. It's ridiculous."

"Why do you look so happy, then, so fulfilled?" You sigh. "Look, Adam, I know you're cheating on me. I've known for years now. I guess I just hoped you'd have the balls to admit it."

adam tries to frantically explain that he's not cheating on you, that he's been leading a yearly extermination

he would never cheat on you, he loves you

you demand to know what an extermination is, and he tells you in more detail than you ever would have wanted

you listen in silence as he describes the joy he gets from killing demons - from killing human souls

you retrieve your bag and leave your shared apartment for good

adam begs you to stay, says he'll change, that he'll do anything

but you can't be with a murderer

[certifiedcallahanstan]

The memoir of a horny fangirl

chapter 2

Warnings: This is a pretty heavy chapter, it shows a really vulnerable side to Hazel and the shitty side of the reader. I had to get this chapter done, so the rest can be lighter and more *spicy*. The next chapter will get back to baseball hazel!!

This chapter contains: sa

It’s been a couple days since you had received the picture and you know you shouldn’t be upset, Hazel is a grown woman and is allowed to kiss whomever she wants, it’s not like you two are together anyways. That however doesn’t stop you from trying to avoid her.

P.J invites you to the coffee shop with Josie and Brittany to do quote on quote “studying” which really means she wants to talk to you all about her latest hook up.

Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting caught up in the conversation.

“and i mean it wasn’t a fucking normal sized strap, that shit was like- fucking xxl” P.J moves her hands at least a feet apart from eachother trying to demonstrate the size and josie scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t need to hear that P.J, you keep that to yourself” she huffs and you cover your mouth trying to stop a laugh from escaping.

For a brief moment, the weight of your emotions regarding Hazel and the photo fade into the background as you lose yourself in the conversation until eventually Brittany convinces everyone that we should probably study.

You pull out your notes adorned with doodles of different sea creatures and facts about them when you hear a familiar voice approach the table.

“Hey guys” the voice that belongs to the shaggy brunette starts “Josie told me you all were studying and that..” she looks at her phone reading the text “We are about to kill P.J, please come before one of us commits a felony”

P.J just responds with a huff a mutters something along the lines of “you all are just mad i get more hoes” as Hazel pulls out a chair and joins the group.

You scoot slightly more away from Hazel hoping nobody will notice. unfortunately these chairs are millenniums old and makes and obnoxious screeching noise

You cringe inwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks as all eyes turn in your direction.

Hazel's gaze flickers briefly in your direction, her brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden noise.

"Sorry about that," you mumble, offering a sheepish smile as you try to play off the noise. "These chairs are... uh, not the most cooperative."

Everyone seems to accept that excuse as they get back to their previous tasks. You start shading in the sea creature you were previously drawing in your journal when you feel P.J looming over you.

“what the fuck knuckles is that” she says as she points at your drawing

you look down at a your notebook where you had draw what looks like a eel-shark hybrid

“it’s called a frilled shark” you start explaining as all eyes look at you “they get their name from the frilly appearance of their gill sets. In fact they’re one of the few sharks that eat their prey whole…”

You trail off awkwardly, realizing that you may have gone a bit overboard with your explanation when you see everyone blankly staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try to steer the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, um... yeah, it's just a cool creature I thought I'd draw," you finish lamely

“I think it’s sick”

you turn your head to the voice and see Hazel smiling at you “i mean a shark that moves like an eel?”

"Yeah, exactly!" you respond, a smile spreading across your face as you meet Hazel's gaze. "It's pretty fascinating how they've adapted to their environment."

fuck why does she have to be so damn irresistible.

your thoughts are cut off by the slamming of a text book and you see Brittany getting up “my brain feels all mushy, im going home to take a nap”

Josie nods, putting her computer in her back pack “i should probably get back to Isabel” and P.J mutters something about going to “fuck then duck” whatever that means.

Soon enough it’s just you and Hazel, you try to ignore the tension, but damn it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching between you as you both seem lost in your own thoughts. You fidget nervously, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Hazel clears her throat, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "So... um, how have you been?" she asks, her voice soft and tentative.

You swallow, trying to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. "I've been okay," you reply, your voice slightly strained. "Just... you know, trying to stay busy with school and stuff."

and not making out with random red heads and getting chlamydia you add in your head.

Hazel nods, her gaze flickering briefly as she seems to search for the right words. "Yeah, I get that," she says quietly “hey um..have you been avoiding me? i’ve tried to text you but you haven’t answered and everytime i try to come up to you you walk the opposite direction”

your jaw clenches as you start putting everything in your shark printed back pack “what reason would i have to avoid you Hazel” your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

she runs her ringed fingers through her hair and you try not to notice the prominent veins “that’s what i’m trying to figure out, did i do something?”

“not everything is about you callahan” you grunt out as you try to gather all your loose papers

“here let me help-“

“i don’t need your help” you shove her arm away and in the process her hand hits an open water bottle spilling water all over your notebook. the notebooks that has three years worth of research in it

A sense of panic washes over you as you scramble to salvage what you can, frantically wiping at the water with trembling hands. Hazel watches helplessly, her expression a mixture of concern and regret.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I was just trying to..."

You cut her off with a sharp gesture, your own frustration boiling over as you struggle to contain your emotions. "Just... leave me alone, Hazel," you mutter, your voice thick with emotion.

she steps back as her eyebrows knit together “this wouldn’t have happened if you just let me help. Maybe instead of pushing people away talk to them”

You can see the hurt etched in her features, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt tug at your conscience.

"I'm sorry, I just..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you toss your notebook into the trash and sling your backpack over your shoulder

"I have to go," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn away, unable to face Hazel in that moment. With each step you take, the distance between you and Hazel grows, the ache of regret gnawing at your heart.

Hazel just presses her lips together and nods before you see the same red head from the photo calling her name in an annoying high pitched voice.

You watch in silence as Hazel hesitates, her eyes briefly searching yours for any sign of a response. Before you can gather your thoughts, she turns away, putting on a fake smile as the red-headed girl approaches.

"What's up, Becca?" she says, her tone polite but strained, the artificiality of her smile not escaping your notice.

you turn away, knowing that it's not your place to intervene in Hazel's personal life. And also if you stayed there someone would be getting punched in the face, and here’s a hint. it wasn’t going to be you.

—————————————

“Did you say sorry at least?” Isabel ask as you lay upside down on her bed, letting the blood flow rush to your head to try to forget about what Josie now calls “they great water incident” that happened last week

"Yeah, I did," you reply with a sigh, your voice muffled from your upside-down position. “kinda.. i dunno. I mean you should’ve seen the way that becky, bexar, what ever the fuck her name is held onto her”

P.J shoves a handful of chips into her mouth and shrugs “i say kill the bitch”

Josie tosses a pillow at her face and huffs “We already have one murderous charge against us, we don’t need another”

Isabel nods in agreement. "Exactly. We'll figure this out without resorting to murder,"

“fine” P.J huffs holding her hands in the air “but just know that i know people”

“mhmm” you hum as you launch yourself back into an upright position on the bed stealing chips from P.J’s bowl.

As the group starts debating whether han solo or darth vader would be better in bed, you can’t help but wonder at this exact moment what hazel is doing.

——————————————

Hazel sits on her bed in her apartment talking about how the frilled shark can unhinge their jaw and eat prey at least twice their size as the red head sits and stares at her.

Hazel has never been one for social cues, she sincerely honestly thought that Rebecca just needed a friend, and sure they made out at the party but in her defense her face looked similar to yours in the midst of her 6 shots.

So here they are in Hazels apartment, Hazel blabbering about the eel-shark abomination (that she most definitely didn’t spend five hours researching after finding out about it)

“Rebecca? did you hear what i said” she stops and tilts her head with wide eyes

Rebecca nods and turns to Hazel “mhm- yeah the shark is like- long or some shit”

“you seem distracted” the brunette mutters “and it’s not called a long shark it’s called a frilled shark because-“ her sentence is interrupted when she hears Rebecca let out a drawn out sigh and move closer to Hazel.

“Yeah that’s kinda gross Hazey and i’m bored so how about we have some fun…”

“i don’t know what you mean-“ hazel starts before the girl lifts her shirt off and suddenly Hazel realizes why this girl has been being so nice to her.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea," Hazel stammers, her voice tinged with unease as she shifts uncomfortably on the bed.

“come on baby” Rebecca whines as she crawls into an unwilling Hazels lap “I’ve heard how good you are in bed”

And it’s true, Hazel was amazing in bed and she has had her fair share of hookups, but usually she knows about them before.

"Rebecca, I... I really don't think this is a good idea," Hazel insists, her voice shaky as she gently tries to push Rebecca away. "I'm not interested in anything like that right now."

“shhh” Rebecca whispers out as she slams her lips against Hazels and suddenly everything seems too much, Rebecca’s lips are wet, the lights are too bright, the AC is too loud. Panic grips her as she struggles to push Rebecca away, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion.

"Stop," Hazel manages to choke out, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. She pushes against Rebecca's chest with all her strength, her heart pounding with urgency.

Rebecca pulls back, frustration evident on her face. "What's wrong?" she demands, her voice tinged with irritation.

Hazel's chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her mind reeling with a flood of emotions. "I... I told you to stop," she says, her voice trembling

Rebecca's expression darkens, her features contorted with anger as she takes a step forward. "You're just playing hard to get,"

Hazel manages to push Rebecca off her lap and quickly stands up, putting some distance between them.

"I think it's best if you leave," she says firmly, her voice trembling slightly with the effort to maintain composure.

With a frustrated huff, Rebecca storms out of the room, leaving Hazel alone with her racing thoughts and pounding heart. As she sinks onto the bed she grabs her phone with shakey hands and presses your contact then the call button.

“Hey what’s up” your voice bellows out from Hazels phone

“Hey i don’t know what-“

“HAHA JK this is my voice mail, leave a message or don’t i don’t care” your voice interrupts and Hazel can’t help the tears that fall down her face

“Hey..i don’t know if you’ll see this but Rebecca was here and i thought we were just friends, i mean i know i kissed her but i was drunk and..anyways we were talking and-“ Hazels voice cracks “-and she climbed on me and i told her to get off but she didn’t and- and she kissed me and maybe it’s my fault but..i don’t know what the point of calling you is because i’m pretty sure you hate me. I dunno, i just needed to tell someone.”

She presses the hang up button and brings her knees to her chest letting out a sob. How could she have been so stupid? Flash backs of when her dad would buy her these new suits and buttons up because he knew you hated dresses, but then make her get dressed in front of him flashed back into her mind.

Despite her best efforts to push those memories aside, they continue to haunt her, casting a shadow over her as she cries herself eventually to sleep.

———————————

it’s not until two days later that you see the voice mail, you’re sitting in your biology class with your airpod in when you click the play button.

“What the fuck?!” you blurt out when it finishes and suddenly all eyes are on you.

You smile sheepishly as you gather all of your belongings and rush out of the classroom calling P.J

after three rings she answers with a “I’m talking to this really hot chick so this better be important”

“You remember when we said that we weren’t going to kill anyone anymore”

P.J hums “well YOU ALL said that, i never actually agreed to it”

“Yeah well…it’s time for some killing..or at least seriously maiming”

as you explained the situation to P.J, the last thing she said before she hung up was

“let’s go kick some leprechaun ass”

————————————

Okay so YOU didn’t kick some leprechaun ass, P.J insisted she could take Rebecca herself and you assuming it went well because as you were driving (well over the speed limit) to Hazels house you receive a message from P.J saying “i’m like 75% sure she’s still alive, anyways if police come questioning you, say a rabid bear attacked her”

You chose not to question her further.

You get to Hazels house and you take a deep breath, you’ve never been good at comforting people, usually you just pat their back and give them water. You assume that probably won’t work for this situation .

Taking a deep breath, you exit your car and make your way to Hazel's apartment. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with each passing moment.

you knock on the door three times fast, two slow, that was your signature knock for her since middle school. As the door swings open, you're greeted by the sight of Hazel, her eyes red-rimmed from tears. Without a word, you pull her into a tight embrace, holding her close.

“y-you came-“ Hazel mutters out as you pull away and she wipes her eyes

“yeah of course haze, im sorry i didn’t see the voice mail till today”

Hazel nods, her expression grateful as she steps back, allowing you to enter her apartment. As you settle into the living room, Hazel gestures for you to take a seat on the couch beside her. You can sense her hesitancy, so you squeeze her hand and softly smile.

“you can talk to me about whatever, you know that right haze?”

Hazel meets your gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions—vulnerability, fear, and a glimmer of hope. With a shaky breath, she begins to recount the events of that night, pouring out her heart and soul to you.

And all you saw was fucking red. How the fuck could someone do this to her Hazel, her sweet, beautiful, funny Hazel?

Your heart pounds in your chest as Hazel's words sink in, each one feeling like a blow to your own sense of justice. Anger simmers beneath the surface as you listen to the betrayal she endured, your grip on her hand tightening instinctively.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you meet Hazel's gaze with determination burning in your eyes. "Hazel, I am so sorry that you had to go through that," you say, your voice firm but gentle. "But I promise you, we will get through this together. I won't let anyone hurt you like that again."

Hazel coughs out a laugh and looks at you with wet eyes “That’s supposed to be my line”

You smile softly at her response, a flicker of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, consider it borrowed for now," you say, returning her gaze with sincerity. "Because I mean every word of it. I'm here for you, Hazel, no matter what."

In that moment, as you sit together in quiet solidarity, you know that your bond with Hazel runs deeper than words can express. And with that unspoken understanding, you both find solace in each other's presence.

[twstbookclub]

Fatal Attraction

Summary: Two lives stripped away in a moment's glance before they could even enjoy the gift of love presented in front of them. Caused by strife and wrath, this tragic tale is not one to be taken lightly. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Azul Ashengrotto, Romeo and Juliet, angst, heavy angst, character death, be warned this is depressing Word count: 6,201

I'm gonna totally true here, I had so much fun writing Azul's angst fic, because I took one of my favorite pieces of literature and turned it into a fic-esque work. So, this takes inspiration from Romeo and Juliet, specifically the 1996 version of "Romeo + Juliet" with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. That version is a lot more modernized to use guns and drugs, etc but I tried my best to minimize all of that to give a less TW tag. I did take some dialogue from the actual literary piece and translated it into modern language, BUT NOT TOO MUCH cause it was honestly really hard 😭

6k words is insane to me because it's more than Malleus or Sebek

I am so sorry Azul stans

Lights illuminate the quiet streets at night, while the city comes alive during the day. However, two rival mafias operate in the town, hidden from the ordinary citizen's eye. Amidst the danger, a casino is the only place where people can forget their problems, but two lovers only need each other for peace.

Azul Ashengrotto is a hitman and negotiator for one of the mafia factions. Well known for his work within the organization and occasional work as a dealer in the casino, Azul is as cunning and deceptive as they come, but it's just his nature.

Azul strolls around the casino with his usual smirk, basking in the glory of a successful negotiation with a company. The other casino staff congratulate him, but he brushes it off, knowing it's all part of his job.

“There’s no need to congratulate me! It is simply my duty as a negotiator.”

After setting his things down, he jokes with some of the casino staff before heading off to prepare for the evening.

Sitting in the garden of your home, you sigh and admire the flowers as the day starts. The day feels long, and sadness makes it feel even longer. You have always been kept within the property of your home. You’re a child of a mafia organization, but your father is hellbent on keeping you from the outside world. You need more, but where could you get that without permission? Suddenly, during your train of thought, a familiar voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Well, good morning, cos," said the voice, playfully interrupting your thoughts.

"It’s still morning?" you respond, letting out a small sigh.

“The day’s barely begun?” Asked Cater, confused.

“Oh, Seven, this day feels too long and dull.”

“But it’s a good day! What sadness lengthens your hours?” Cater asked, trying to sound playful to lighten that solemn look in your eyes.

“Having to sit here and waste away makes my days long and dull, cousin.”

Cater sighs and tries to speak, but your mother calls for you with an alarmed voice. Shrill screams of your name echo, reaching the sky from how loud she is.

You hurriedly ascend the staircase to the second floor, stopping at the middle platform where your mother stood with pinched eyebrows and a subtle frown.

“Madam, I’m here. Is something the matter?”

“Finally! Come! We have something important to discuss. Cater—you can leave,” she said, pushing Cater away. Your mother paused as if something dawned on her at that moment. She shook her head and hastily added, “Wait! Cater, come back! You’re part of this, as well.”

You and Cater rushed to your bedroom and were made to sit on your bed. Maids rushed inside your chambers, and you found yourself being tugged around by each one. The familiar sensation of a brush and the smell of powder filled the room. The sound of rustling fabric and barked orders disturbed the silence.

“Despite what your father says, you are of age. You should go out more—find someone to give you thrills in life!” Your mother exclaimed, helping herself to sit at your vanity table. “I’ve been your mother for many years now, and I’m deeply concerned about your… self-isolation. This is only what I think is best!”

The rest of that conversation was mostly your mother telling you how “the world is your oyster” and that you should take advantage of it. You could only listen until she was tired of lecturing you and walked off to do other things. It ended with Cater helping you get ready.

“Alright. You heard the woman. You’re lucky that I know exactly where to take you,” Cater says with a sigh and starts looking through your closet for you.

The sound of shuffling cards, chips clattering on the tables, and cheers from winners rang through the different halls and rooms. Different themes exist on every floor depending on the games. A floor filled with different slot machine games was filled with neon lights and bright colors to accommodate the vibe. One of them had restaurants galore for each type of economy class that was visiting. Vibrant, blinding colors greeted you, and the mind could easily be overwhelmed by the sight. It smelled of cigarettes and smoke everywhere, and servers held trays of crystalline glasses filled with golden champagne.

Cater brought you to a casino to de-stress. He was familiar with this place, so he knew you’d be okay here. You walked around independently since Cater left you to play a round of Hearts with others he knew.

You watched how people crowded around the poker and baccarat tables. There was a mix of emotions lingering in the casino air: concentrated, frustrated, happy, and angry to name a few. When you turned to another section, you leaned against a pillar and looked in front of you, meeting a pair of bluish-purple eyes.

He was looking at you, too. He looked—

Gorgeous.

You stepped behind the pillar and poked your head out enough just for your eyes to meet his own again. The stranger gave you a modest smile and a gaze so fine that you just had to smile back. Dressed in a black button-up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fabric fitting his frame as two top buttons were open.

His hair was a pretty gray, and the beauty mark under his lip made his features come together like a perfect painting. His smile grew wider, and he looked away. Then you felt your cheeks grow hot.

It was an unfamiliar feeling. One only your maids and mother would describe to you as love, but is this really what it was? It felt right, but it was too new to confirm true.

When you met his eyes again, he had his hand out for you to take. You looked at the floor momentarily before moving closer and letting your palm touch his, and he guided you to sit at his table.

You looked around, then noticed it was a table of blackjack. Hmm… a simple game. He didn’t let go of your palm and dealt the cards with his free hand. You smiled softly and stared at how he held your hand as if you were glass. 

“You do realize that holding a stranger’s hand for this long is not normal,” you said while looking into his eyes, prompting a laugh to escape his lips

“Well, dear stranger, what is normal? It’s certainly not us.”

“How so?” you asked as you tried to slip your hand away again, but the gesture was met with a firm grip.

“Any other person would’ve walked away from a man with wandering eyes,” he said while leaning closer to you, but you moved away with a smile.

“Would it not be stranger if we were closer than this? Though, I don’t wish to interrupt how you are dealing with this game.”

“Oh? Do you wish to be closer? Closing the distance is not a problem to me.” His offer was tempting, but the words your mother spoke of flashed through your mind. Maybe this is something you should be doing?

“I… can allow that,” you whispered loud enough to reach his ears, quite confident that this was something you wanted

“Then stay while I deal as I please,” he whispered as he leaned closer, noses brushing for a moment before you moved away and stood from the chair you were in.

“Oh,” you laughed playfully and went towards the nearby bar, and he followed you without a complaint, “what a tease. I must say, you’re very forward and quick to act.”

“Wasting no time is what I do best,” he said, following you, watching your movements. “People call me charming and witty, but no praise will amount to anything if I fail to leave an impression on you. Don’t leave me feeling this empty, darling.”

“Why empty? Is the time spent with me so far not fulfilling enough?”

The man placed his fingers under your chin and made you look at him, then he took off his glasses in a swift move. “No, and I won’t be satisfied until I can do this...”

You felt a smile creep up as he pulled you closer and gave you a gentle kiss, only starting. After that gesture, you looked at him and kept your composure.

“Better,” Azul said after that short kiss, a smug look on his face, but he didn’t let you go.

You were a bit surprised by the feeling, but you couldn’t complain. “Is it?”

“Very. It makes me want more…” He whispered before kissing you again, this time letting it linger much longer. 

“You kiss as if you learned from a book,” you spoke softly after breaking it, but he only moved lower towards your ear and neck. 

“Hey, we can’t do this. As much as I enjoy your company, you are a mere stranger at the end of the day,” you said and pushed him back lightly, then tried to walk off. The man moved closer again and sat you down on a bar stool.

His lips found yours again, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. Your body could only respond to the kiss almost instantly. His hands didn’t let go of your waist, yet your own were on the nape of his neck and shoulder.

You don’t know how much time had passed, but you snapped out of it once Cater called your name. “Hello, Earth to cousin? We have to go!”

Cater looked at the man whose arms you were in and sighed in disappointment, clicking his tongue and pulling you away. “Come on!”

While getting pulled away, you kept turning around to watch as the man followed you, a determined look on his face as he tried to catch up. You were pulled up the stairs to the floor above and joined with the bodyguards you arrived with. 

The man remained at the bottom of the stairs, but he stared at you in disbelief.

“His name is Azul Ashengrotto, a hitman from the mafia your family fights against all the time! He’s the right-hand man,” Cater whispered to you, and you felt the smile on your face disappear. You stared down at the man but couldn’t utter a word.

“Is that��? No—they can’t be,” Azul whispered, still in disbelief.

After staring momentarily, you were pulled away, and Azul had to follow again. This continued, even with your head turning back a few times, just to meet the man following at a distance.

Azul stood at the casino door while you left, watching as your car left with a regretful expression in his eyes. “Not knowing and finding out too late—how the hell did we end up finding each other this way?” he said to himself as you stared back at him from the moving car, then he went back into the casino grounds.

After arriving home, you walked around your garden under the moonlight and sighed softly. You moved yourself to squat in front of the pool at the end of the concrete path, looking up at the moon. 

“Azul Ashengrotto… Who could he really be? What does his name have to do with anything?”

“The group that rivals my family name, but what is in that name? It’s not a hand, foot, or any other part belonging to me.” You stare down at your reflection in the water and smile softly at the thought of that man you had a slight moment with at the casino. 

You stand up and sigh, “Should he tell me he doesn’t like it, I would change it in a heartbeat—”

“Then should we change that name?”

You spin around and scream as he puts his hands on your arms, but the shock causes you to fall back into the pool with him. You quickly come up to the surface and spit out the water in your mouth, then stare at the pale indigo eyes on you.

“What are you doing here!? Did you follow me? If they see you, they’ll murder you!” You whispered loudly because of the panic, but your reaction made Azul laugh.

“That is the least of my worries.”

“But you’re the Ashengrotto, an ally of my mortal enemy—”

“I will neither, if you dislike it. What can they do to me?” He whispers the last part, moving closer and touching your cheek. “I was able to see you again. I’m satisfied with that. It’s better to be killed by their hatred than by the torture of not seeing you. You love me and I love you, so let them find me here. I want your love for as long as you’ll allow me to have it.”

You stare at his features for a moment before he kisses you softly, the quiet night enveloping the both of you. It was slow, but you could feel how he felt the same for you as you did him. The more time that passed, the more passion was being shared.

The pool water was warm, but the way he grabbed your hips with one hand and kept your head in place with the other gave you a chill down your spine, simply from how he made you feel. 

You pulled back after a while longer and felt your face burning, so you avoided looking at him. “The moon's light can only hide me so well, and now you’ve heard me speak tonight. Do you love me? I know that you’ll say yes, and I will take your word for it.”

You spoke while backing away to get out of the pool, and he followed, leaving kisses on your neck when he could. “If you love me, say it faithfully.”

“I swear by the moon—”

You sighed and pushed him back. “Don’t swear by her ever-changing beauty unless your love has conditions.”

“Then what do I swear by?” Azul asks, looking at you with confusion in his expression.

“Don’t swear at all. If you must, swear on yourself. If it comes from your heart, then I’ll believe you.”

“The love in my heart…” He whispers, then gives you light kisses again, but you quickly break it and turn away.

“Don’t. Although I enjoy this, I will have no joy in this promise tonight. It’s too soon, too rash, and—like a lightning strike—it will be gone too soon,” you said and climbed up the ladder to get out of the water, but his sudden call out made you stop.

“Will you leave me so unsatisfied?”

You turn around and look at him with surprise. “What satisfaction could you have tonight?”

“To tell me that your heart belongs to me”

He was right. He had declared his love for you, but you hadn’t done the same for him. Was this real? You smiled brightly and ran back into his arms, falling into the pool with him again.

“I gave it to you before you even asked!” You exclaimed before falling back in with him, your lips landing against his into an underwater kiss.

Coming up to the surface, you hear Cater calling for you around the house, and you shout. “I’ll be there!” You turn to Azul and pull him out, hurrying him to leave through a secret gate.

“I leave you with a few more words before good night. If you’ll allow me the honor of marriage, let me know tomorrow—in a way that I can visit you—where and what time we’ll marry,” you whisper with a smile and hold his hand through the iron bars of the gate.

Cater shouted again, and you could only shout once again. “I’m on my way!”

“May all of my fortune and my will always follow you. If you do not mean well, I beg you not to argue and leave me alone to grieve. I will send someone over to the casino tomorrow,” you told Azul before letting him go, not before giving him a kiss.

“I am yours, and you are mine. I’ll be happy to hear from you.”

“I hope you have a wonderful night.” You smiled again and ran off, and Azul walked off as well. Shortly after, you gasped to yourself and tried to find him again, rushing towards him.

“Azul!” you called out, catching his attention, and his smile only brightened your heart. “At what hour should I send for someone?”

“By 9 in the morning.”

“I won’t let you down. It’s an eternity until then.” You laugh softly and pull your necklace off you, giving it to him. He took it gladly and tightened his fist to avoid losing it.

“Good night, darling.” He said and walked away, looking back at you a few times until he was completely out of sight.

“A bittersweet sorrow that is parting, that I shall say ‘good night’ until tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Finally, you ran off into your home.

The next day, you were home alone, and you waited with anticipation for your cousin to arrive back to you. As soon as the door opened to your bedroom, you jumped up and saw Cater come in with a tired expression.

“Cater!”

“Oh, hey, cos,” he says and tucks himself into your bed, your expression turning into disappointment.

“Cater! What does my love say?”

“Your love? Oh! That negotiator guy,” he says, “… Hey, where are your parents?” Cater asked, looking at you with a cheeky smile.

“Where are my parents?” You sigh from frustration and pull the blankets off the kid. “Don't keep it from me any longer! What did Azul say!?”

Cater laughs before standing from the bed and going to your closet. He looks at your more formal clothing and then picks something out for you. “When you go out today, meet him at the church. There, a man waits to marry you later today.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement as you heard the news. You took the outfit into your hands and left to change, finding even more reason to leave your home today.

Arriving at the church, you noticed the cars parked in front were all the same. When you entered the wide chapel, your eyes instantly met his, and the warm golden lights illuminated the design.

You had always been here before, but how the room lit up now was mesmerizing. Seeing Azul made the moment even better because it was only you and him. You made your way down before meeting with him, and how sweet he was.

Speaking vows and promises while looking at your love in the eyes, you could finally understand why a wedding day was so important. You knew you would never forget this day even if fate decided to take you away tomorrow.

His hands held yours and carefully slipped a silver band on your finger. That was it. You were officially married to him.

“I love you,” you whispered, seeming as if now was a dream that would slip through your fingers.

“I love you too,” he responded, giving you a kiss to conceal it together.

Azul had to leave after that because his negotiation work was urgent, but he still ensured you arrived home safely.

Under that guise, Azul arrived at his own mafia’s headquarters. The room was a bit tense as he walked into his boss’ office, only to find a man tied on the marble floor. The room was dim and added to the atmosphere that the organization strived for.

At the snap of a finger, the man became unmasked, to reveal one of your relatives. Azul looked surprised but quickly had to hide it. 

“Boss. Is… this him?” Azul asked, looking his boss in the eye, but he was feeling a cold sweat for once.

“That’s right. You already know what you have to do. Don’t disappoint me, Ashengrotto.”

Azul nodded once and gestured to the guards to follow him with their victim, and he left behind them with a tense feeling. 

Your relative? One whom he now shared names with through his dearly beloved, but did he really want to kill this man? 

This man was a spy. Playing his organization like a game of chess, he could get away with it for a while, but his boss knew the truth from the beginning. The boss wasn’t an idiot, they wouldn’t be in the place they're in now if that was the case, so it wasn’t surprising.

This was different now, though.

Azul stared at this man’s back with hesitation. He didn’t want to do this to you, but this was his job. You knew that, too, but that wasn’t an excuse. Yet, if he didn’t do this, it was his life on the line along with this man.

You sat in your room while staring up at the statues of the Seven in your room, a warm smile on your face at the thought of your new husband, a lingering sadness that you couldn’t spend time with him.

“Oh, Seven… If only the stars could show me my husband now. If anything should happen, may the heavens take his soul and place it among the stars, so his radiance could illuminate the night, that not even the moon could compare,” you whispered to yourself while imagining Azul, causing you to smile more than you already were. “If only I could see him soon..”

Azul stood in front of the captured man with a bitter look in his eye. He called the guards off to be alone in the room, still hesitating about the choice in front of him.

“You know, you’re trembling… it’s obvious, buddy.” The man said with a laugh, his busted face still dripping some blood onto the floor.

Azul’s eyes widened, his voice slightly trembling. “What? Don’t say a word. Do not provoke me.”

“Why? Is the big man, Ashengrotto, finally scared?”

“Shut up—”

“What a baby. How the hell are you the right-hand man, if you can’t pull the trigger?”

“Don’t say anything else!”

“In my organization, you would’ve been killed for being this weak!”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” Azul yelled, swiftly taking out his gun and putting it to the man’s head. “Do you not wish to be saved? I can do that. I don’t want to do this. Not for…” His voice trailed off, a lump forming in his throat.

“Don’t be fucking weak. Do it!” The man yelled, messing around with the assassin in front of him. This man knew what he was doing but didn’t know the consequences.

The gun was taken off its safety as Azul took a deep breath, putting his personal emotions aside and speaking quieter. “To my beloved relative by name… May the Seven help you.”

The man grew confused before he was met with darkness. The sound of the gun echoing through the large room was enough of a message that it was over, but guilt started to take over the new silence.

“Shit… What the hell did I do?’ Azul whispered to himself before dropping the gun and staring at the corpse in front of him with disbelief.

You stared at the statues once again with a confused look on your face, at a loss for how to react. It had been a few hours, but you had just been told the news about your relative being killed by your husband’s hand.

“Say it isn’t so? Seven, don’t betray my heart this way… Am I supposed to criticize my husband? Speak ill of him? For the love he had for me, am I supposed to think of him as a traitor? Give up his word for actions?” You spoke to yourself, pleading with the gods above to give you an answer, but you received nothing.

Your heart ached at the deafening silence, and not even your ancestors could help you in this. It felt like your bloodline was shaming you for confiding in a sworn enemy, but you couldn't control who you could love...

Was it truly so easy to blame yourself for this?

Azul had quickly become a target under your family’s watchful eye. He had to do something, and quickly. Azul stared out the window from his office before he took a breath and fixed his glasses, only coming up with one answer.

“Guards, take me to them. I’ll be staying the night. In the meantime, prepare a burial.” Azul said calmly before grabbing his coat and leaving quickly.

You sat on your bed and tilted your head, hugging one of the pillows while thinking. Your mother left you to rest for the night, and you took the opportunity to lock yourself in. You let out a sigh and slowly stood up.

“Am I supposed to deny him? Divorce him for what he did? What a cruel thing to do to someone I love,” you said to yourself, but then you heard footsteps come in through your window.

The sound immediately caught your attention, and you were met with Azul standing there with regret in his eyes. You slowly went closer without your eyes moving away, scared that he would disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Azul whispered, his already sad eyes becoming glassy with the tears he couldn’t keep back anymore. “I swear to you and the Seven above, I didn’t want to do it—”

“I believe you. I can see it in your eyes. It was either that… or death, right? I know how this business goes, but that still won’t stop me from loving you.” You responded just as quietly, then looked over his body to make sure he didn’t have any injuries. Just doing this made your heart race.

Your hands slid down his coat to take it off, the ruffling sound of it hitting the ground mixing with the sounds of breathing and pattering rain hitting the ground outside. It made you a bit relieved that he could reach you before the rain began, but your heart rate wasn’t slowing down.

You loosened his tie and took off a few buttons so he could relax, but you were nervous. You guess… it’s kind of late to be nervous when you’re already married to him. Regardless, your hands just went with the flow, even if you didn’t have any experience in this aspect.

Azul watched your movements carefully before he leaned closer, taking off his glasses in the process. Your eyes met his indigo irises, your hands made their way to his neck and shoulder, and your heart was about to explode.

You willingly closed the space and kissed him as you knew he was about to do the same to you, but he returned it so gently. It was different from the time you met at the casino or in the pool that same night, but it felt perfect. Neither of you wanted to let go.

Morning came too fast. Azul woke up to the harsh reality of what was going to happen today. Any slight movement he made easily woke you up, but you could only give a small groan since you weren’t ready to get up yet. That noise made him smile and laugh before he sat up to see how you slowly opened your eyes

“It’s too early, and not time for you to go.” You whispered with a tired voice, still exhausted from the events of the day prior. Azul quickly moved to hover above you within the blink of an eye as your words caused him to feel warm.

“Then let’s not get out of these sheets—delay the morning by never coming out. I can appreciate just how divine my spouse looks while you look up at me like that.” Azul began playfully, slowly becoming genuine and affectionate with his words.

Before you could respond, Cater ran into your room and closed the door behind him, causing Azul to fall off your bed from surprise. “Your mother is on the way! Quick!” He said with panic, swiftly moving around to help out.

Azul got all of his things and you let him escape from the window, following him onto the balcony. He pulled you into a kiss for a moment before letting you go. “Stay safe. I’m sorry for what I did.”

You shook your head and gave him a gentle smile, placing your lips against his for a few seconds. “I love you. I love you more than anything. My life is yours.”

“My love…” Azul said somberly and sighed, placing a small kiss on your forehead. You felt the emotion he was feeling by just the way he was acting, and it left you confused. You looked at him with concern before giving him your ring from the day before.

You kissed the engraving on the band before placing the ring in his palm. “Just be safe. I will try to find out if something grave is being planned in hopes of stopping it.”

Azul just stayed quiet before he pushed you back inside your bedroom and quietly left. That was it between you two for now. You stared at the bed in front of you as your stomach began to turn in a bad way, but you could only whisper something to yourself as you fixed the robe you had put on when rushing.

“Letting someone out and bringing light in—why do I have a feeling that it will be in vain?” 

Azul stood in the church that had become special to him less than twenty-four hours ago, holding a small bottle in the palm of his hand, along with your ring and necklace beside it.

There was a war going on outside. He was the head that they wanted to capture for killing your father’s brother, an eye for an eye, and he didn’t want you to be brought into it. He was thankful that you could forgive him and still keep your love, but he didn’t deserve it after making you grieve for the loss of a relative and the loss of his presence beside yours.

He made sure to kiss the ring and the cross charm from your necklace, before putting them both on and staring up at the painted murals from the church’s ceiling, a soft expression at the memory of exchanging vows that were so fresh to him.

Without much hesitance, Azul popped open the small container and dropped some pills into his palm. His boss gave him these after he proposed to fake his death until this was over, composing a plan once a certain number of their kin had been killed in his stead.

One, two, three. Pills disappeared as Azul swallowed them. The drugs were quick, as he felt his heart begin to slow down and his breathing was coming to struggle for air. The church echoed the sounds of his quick suffering, until turning as quiet as the sleeping city he committed his sins.

In the morning, Cater ran into your room to find you clutching your chest, but not a single tear in your eyes. You were more shocked than anything. Your father stopped the war at the moment of finding out that their target was dead. Your husband was dead.

Cater, who was breathing heavily from running, went over to your side with a saddened look, letting out a sigh at the immense despair he could feel around you. “Cos, I’m sorry, but now… what’s your plan?”

Silence.

Nothing was your plan. How could there be a plan? The love you harbored couldn’t be shared with the one you married anymore. You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes, a hidden tear finally dropping down your cheek.

Cater noticed your silence and went to lock your door, “He’s laid to rest at the church. I’ll take you to him.” 

Your body was simply guided by Cater now. He dressed you the best way that he could, in a way that your parents wouldn’t find suspicious. You hadn’t uttered a word or looked at him, but instead kept yourself together as if it was taking its time to affect you.

Your parents believed that you were grieving over your uncle’s death, so they left you alone. With that, Cater could take you over to the church during the sunset hour.

When you arrived, he guided you in and let your eyes lay upon the empty cathedral. The door closed behind you as Cater didn’t step in to leave you on your own. Finally being by yourself, you could relax as tears filled your eyes at the sight of the bed at the end of the aisle.

You slowly made your way closer and closer, each step making a sound that echoed through the space. The closer you got, the more detailed his body became. With gentleness and care, your hand wrapped around his and it felt weird.

“My love, death hasn’t taken your warmth yet?” You speak quietly and caress his cheek while holding back your tears. “You look as if life is still within you, and a peaceful sleep is all that affects you,” you said while leaning down to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Even your lips are as warm as the day. How precious…”

You went quiet after and closed your eyes, letting out a small sob before covering your eyes with your hands. The tears ran down your cheeks before being wiped away, not wanting to cry too bad after.

“What a cruel world we were born into,” you say quietly to your husband’s body before you look up at the ceiling above you, memories flashing through your head. A smile finally showed on your face at the thought of Azul, like his face and name always had these days.

You looked down as you held something in your hand. A small dagger with a black shine to it. You placed the tip of the blade at your chest and pierced yourself with it, the pain not being at all the same as losing the love of your life. You only let out a small wince and looked down at your husband, only to find him with a look of horror and his eyes wide open.

“No, you—” Azul started but quickly reacted to sit up and pull you to lay down where he was, struggling breaths coming from you as the blood seeped out of your wound. Azul tried to take it out, but your grip on the handle was strong even though your body was growing weak.

“What—” You whispered, tears falling down from your eyes as you tried to think, but you could only stare at Azul with a blurry vision from how fast your life was being taken away from you. “Why…?”

“Why? To protect you. Why would you follow me?” Azul asked with tears coming up to his own eyes. He held you tightly as if that would stop the slow death you were experiencing, but he wasn’t doing anything. He couldn’t. “Why wouldn’t you want to live?”

“Live…” You whispered, your slow blinking accompanied by a small smile only made this more bitter than it was, a gasp coming from you before you spoke again. “I couldn’t live without you.”

These words were soon followed by silence. A quiet breath was let go from you. Your body grew limp and still. Your hands had finally let go of the dagger that had you inflicted on yourself, but it was too late.

Azul just stared in a still stance, still holding you. He waited for something. Anything. A sign of life. Something to check if you were still there with him. When he didn’t get anything, he let out loud sobs while holding your lifeless body close to him, even putting out a few screams from the agony that surrounded his heart.

Every sound and movement he made echoed and pierced his ears with desperation and regret. If only he had told you the plan. If only he ran away with you instead, you would still be alive and smiling at him.

After his moment of grieving, he looked up and down at you, but then his eyes stopped at the blood-stained clothes you had on. His eyes locked onto the dagger before he carefully pulled it out and stared at the blade. 

The question he asked you earlier wasn’t in his mind anymore. Even if he stayed alive, he would die at the hands of your family once they realized that he was alive and that you died with him beside you. He couldn’t live without you either.

He stared at you for a moment before he took your hand into his and he closed his eyes. He placed the dagger against his neck and let out a breath before his body fell right next to yours, and a deafening silence befell them.

Two lovers. Both alike in dignity, now gone in mere moments from their organization’s strife. Young adults with so much more to life and love to share, could not stop the rage of others. A love story that ended so tragically changed the outcome of the respectful lives that they could’ve had.

[typicalopposite]

Soooooo this story has been kicking my BUTT mainly this first chapter and the build up to the actual story 👀 but i finally finished so does manyone wanna read chapter one of angsty break up/helicopter crash fic?

PLZ READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 1/? | 6713 words

Link to Prologue | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎: 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙… 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜

In all of Buck’s thirty three years there has never been another time that he recalls feeling so secure and at peace with his life. So at ease with not just himself, but with the happenings around him. Which is saying a lot given everything going on around him.

Gerard makes work miserable with his constant passive aggressiveness, and his snide comments… Buck knew to expect racism and sexism. He also knew to prepare himself for the blatant homophobia. It still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the first time Gerrard called him princess.

They have all filed complaint after complaint. Bobby is working tirelessly with the fire chief (whose head was gone over in bringing Gerrard back to the 118) to get him reinstated and back home. The team is rallying around each other to lessen the blows made at each of them by the person who is supposed to lead them, but only cares to bully and berate them.

But… at the end of his shift, Buck has Tommy to run home to. Not that they are actually living together— they do spend almost every night they have off together, though. He is the light at the end of a long dark tunnel. The calm after Buck’s 12, 24, or 48 hour storm. He is the breath of fresh air after inhaling far too much smoke. He is… just perfect.

Buck can’t believe how happy he is, how in love he is. The true meaning of happiness? Well Buck thinks it might just be tucked away safe in that soft loving smile Tommy is always giving him. Buck sees their whole lives flash before his eyes when he’s gifted that smile. Years and years, and years of living with this happiness? He definitely could get used to that. He is so lucky.

Or so he thought….

Their shift is (finally) almost over. Buck is laid out on the couch, staring at his phone. He isn’t even aware he’s smiling at his text thread with Tommy until Chimney comes up and knocks his feet off so he can sit down. “There’s only one person I know that could have Buckaroo smiling like that,” he says, his own cheesy grin taking over his face. “You heading over there after work?”

“Reverse,” Buck answers, hoping if he’s nonchalant enough the ridiculous blush he still gets talking about Tommy won’t show up. “He’s at my place—he’s uh… getting dinner started.” And there’s the damn blush anyway, running up his neck.

“I thought you said Tommy was a terrible cook,” Hen says, joining them and sitting on the arm of the couch behind Buck’s head. She tries to sneak a peek at the conversation but Buck drops the phone to his chest.

He sits up and looks at her offended. “Okay, one… eye’s to yourself, thank you very much.” She rolls her own eyes and picks up the throw pillow to hit him with. “Two… I would never say that!”

“And yet you’re not saying he’s not,” Chimney says with a smirk.

“He’s— he’s improving.”

The bell goes off. They all groan. “Better tell the wife you’re gonna be late Buckley,” Gerrard calls from the foot of the stairs.

The ride to the fire is quiet.

No one can ever say anything without Gerrard chiming in with his unwanted two cents. So they sit in silence unwilling to give him anything to use as fuel for another of his hate-filled remarks. Except today, Gerrard decides to initiate the conversation. “So Buckley,” he says; his lips curl up into the beginnings of one of his snarky smirks. “Have you ever lost someone on the job?”

His eyes zero in on his target; the bait to what Buck is certain will be some kind of trap dangling in front of him. “Haven’t we all? Kind of par for the course with this line of work,” Buck answers.

“Yeah, well, you have your typical run of the mill losses on the job; then you have the ones that tend to be a little more—” he pauses to lick his lips, like he’s savoring what he’s about to say. “—personal.” He continues to stare at Buck, whose skin feels like it's crawling under the intensity of it. He waits a beat and then: “Kinard ever tell you about his?”

There it is… the other shoe, heavy as it drops.

Buck doesn’t respond. He has heard a couple of Tommy’s work related horror stories; Buck has shared some of his own. Mostly they just leave work at their respective stations and spend the limited amount of time they get together not dwelling on the bad aspects of being a first responder. “Yeah I’ve heard them,” Buck says, hoping it will be dropped at that; or maybe they will get to the fire… He doesn’t think it’s ever taken this long to arrive on scene before.

“So he’s told you about Jay, then?”

Buck feels his face drop. He feels his brows furrow in confusion and his mouth pulls down before he can stop it. Everyone in the engine looks confused.

Gerrard, on the other hand, looks overly amused. “Ohh, guess he still doesn’t like to talk about him,” he says, and the engine screeches to a stop.

The fire is pretty intense, and everyone is drained afterwards. Thankfully, Gerrard doesn’t mention Tommy—or this Jay person—when they load up for the ride back to the station.

“Get out of your head, Buck…” Hen says quietly. He stops fumbling with the things in his locker, and looks back over his shoulder at her. “You’re letting him get to you. You can’t do that.”

“Yeah, kid, he’s a leech, he feeds on your emotions,” Chimney adds from beside him.

“B- but neither of you know who he’s talking about?”

Hen shakes her head, Chimney shrugs. “Tommy was here before either of us, maybe it was from back then.”

“He’s never mentioned this guy to you?” Eddie asks Buck.

“Never.”

“Then it’s probably no one important,” he continues. “Come on, it’s Tommy! Why would he keep something supposedly big from you?”

Buck’s tongue feels heavy. He wants to say: Maybe because I’m the one who’s not important enough to share it with. He knows that will not go over well with them, so he tucks it away with his other negative thoughts. “You’re probably right…” he does say.

“Of course I’m right,” Eddie smirks.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Ravi calls out to them as he walks backwards out of the station. “But I’m ready to get out of here! I love you all, but I need my two days of not seeing you.”

“I’ll see you boys later,” Hen says to Buck and Eddie. She is going to meet up with Karen and Denny so they can spend the day with Mara at the Buckley-Han household. It’s all she has talked about almost the entire shift.

Once Hen and Chimney are gone Eddie walks over and leans on the locker next to Buck’s. “Hen’s right, you know,” he says. “You gotta get out of your head about this, man. Before you start overthinking it.”

Buck sighs. He hangs his uniform up, and closes the locker. “Yeah,” he finally replies. “Yeah, I know—I will. It’s fine… I’m fine.”

~~~

A shift passes, then another. Soon it’s been a couple weeks. If Gerrard has plans to follow up his questioning about Tommy, and the accident, and Jay… and Buck not knowing about any of it, he hasn’t acted on them yet.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was just something to get under Buck's skin; plant the seeds of doubt that had never once been present before and set in motion the derailment of the most stable relationship Buck knows he’s ever had. He decides to remove it from the bin of thoughts that he randomly goes through and obsesses over, and fully let it go…

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

By mid September—following a lengthy investigation into exactly how Gerrard was put back in charge of the 118; that ended with multiple people losing their jobs, Gerrard included—Bobby was finally reinstated as their captain. It should be a joyous day. Gerrard is cleaning out his—well it’s no longer his—office. The whole team is gathered outside, ready to give him a great big good riddance for the final time.

Gerrard walks out, passing by each firefighter as if they weren’t even there, head still held high. He stops just as he is about to step out of the station, turns and locks his sight on Buck. “You ever ask Kinard about that accident?” He asks, narrowing his eyes menacingly. “Or are you too scared you might learn Prince Charming isn’t quite as Charming as he seems.”

Buck tenses his jaw, holding it firmly in place, fully prepared to not indulge in his taunting. He’s about to be gone for good; he only has to deal with him for a little bit longer.

Gerrard raises his brows, his smirk bordering on becoming manic. “Don’t believe me? Just ask your buddies. Han and Wilson have plenty of stories of their days as probies working with the real Tommy… before he went sweet.” Again Buck can feel his face furrowing in confusion before he can stop it.

“Don’t listen to him, Buck,” Hen says, putting herself between him and Gerrard. Chimney joins her, their backs to Gerrard who has made no more effort to just get lost (like Buck, and everyone else, wishes he would). “I told you he is just trying to get—”

“Oh, come now Henrietta,” Gerrard scoffs. “Don’t act like he didn’t put you down, and treat you like the maid, and less than him… just like everyone else—well, save for Han of course.” Gerrard turns his attention to Chimney, who is still not looking at him. “You haven’t told him about how Tommy treated you when you started… and only let up once you saved his life.”

“Alright that’s enough,” Bobby says, making his way to the front of the group, right up to Gerrard. “I don’t know what your motive is here, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”

There’s a short lived, but still intense, staring battle between the two men, with the entire team watching and holding their breath. Gerrard flicks his eyes from Bobby to Buck and his damned smirk returns. He doesn’t say another word, just turns and walks away. Ravi lets out a ‘whoop whoop’ causing an uproar of cheers and laughter from the entire 118.

It was a summer of hell under Gerrard, but now it’s over. Life can finally get back to normal… except— except now a can of worms has been opened. “What was he talking about,” Buck asks once the crowd disperses, and it’s just their little group standing by the engine.

Hen groans. “Buck, you’re letting him get to you.”

“But you’re not denying it—”

“Because it’s not important,” Chimney interrupts. “By the time I started Tommy had already been under Gerrard for a while; that man had his hooks so deep in him—in all of them. Besides, he has more than apologized for how he acted back then.”

“You do know he’s part of the reason Gerrard had to leave the 118 in the first place,” Hen adds. “He reported his behavior towards me. That’s the story you should care about, Buck. Or how he helped us with that neighborhood fire; saved Eddie and that kid's lives. Or how he risked his job to help us find Cap and ‘Thena… Not the things he has done that he has long been forgiven for.”

Buck knows it’s a losing argument; he doesn’t think he really wants to argue with them about it anyway. They’re right. Why let all this stuff an old bigot tried to resurface from Tommy’s past dictate their happy present. It shouldn’t matter; it doesn’t matter… if Chimney and Hen forgive him, that’s all that matters.

Except…

Except he knows himself well enough to know he isn’t going to be at ease until he at least figures out what the deal with this accident is all about, and who exactly Jay is.

~~~

“Babe, can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

Tommy leans out around the opened hood of his truck to look at him. “Of course,” he says, furrowing his brows slightly. Buck knows he has probably turned a shade of green from how sick to his stomach he feels about actually approaching this. Especially after being told repeatedly that he shouldn’t. Tommy sets his wrench down and grabs a rag to clean off his hands, walking out of the garage to Buck. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh—yeah, well, that’s just it… I don’t—” Buck pauses, takes a deep breath and just spits it out: “Tommy, who’s Jay?”

Tommy blinks. His face shifts from concerned to confused to something somewhere between anger and annoyance. “Where did you— How did you…” he sighs. “Let me guess. Gerrard?”

“Mhmm,” Buck hums with a small nod.

“That’s just—” Tommy starts, huffing out a sarcastic laugh as he roughly wipes the oil and grease from his hands. “That’s just great,” he finishes, angrily tossing the cloth at the floor. Buck waits patiently; he thinks he owes Tommy that much seeing as whatever—whoever—this is, it’s clearly something Tommy isn’t happy about Gerrard sharing. “I–” Tommy looks at Buck, his eyes suddenly turning red and he quickly wipes at them. “I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t…”

“You can’t?”

Tommy shakes his head hard. “I can’t talk about this–about him, not now… not yet. I–” He inhales sharp and it comes back out a broken sob. Buck is so taken aback, because Tommy rarely ever cries; Buck doesn’t think he’s ever seen him shed more than a few tears, and those were over happy moments.

One time was during some sappy—but with the saddest ending—romcom. Once when he found a dead cat in his backyard. And maybe the most emotional was when Buck slipped up during a particularly passionate kiss and told him that he loved him. Tommy’s face went so red, and Buck began to panic and then profusely apologize until Tommy took his face in his hands and said it back a single tear falling from his eye. Buck wiped it away and leaned back in to continue kissing him.

“Hey,” Buck says, feet quickly moving him across the cement toward Tommy. He slips his arms under Tommy’s, wrapping them around his back and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay… you don’t have to.”

“I’m—I’m sorry… It’s just… it’s too—”

Buck can feel the tears soaking through his shirt where Tommy has pressed his face to Buck’s shoulder. He feels like such a jerk. “No,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down Tommy’s back. “No, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have asked. I was letting Gerrard get in my head—I was being stupid…”

“You’re not being stupid, Evan,” Tommy says, muffled against the fabric of Buck’s shirt. “You were curious. I understand… It’s just–” Tommy pulls away, taking a step back. He wraps his own arms around himself, and it shocks Buck how small he seems right now. He slowly lifts his eyes to Buck’s, he looks broken (Buck hates himself for it) but mostly he looks worried. “This is—it’s really personal…” he says. “And I’m just not ready to share it yet.”

“That’s okay,” Buck quickly responds. “I understand, and I won’t bring it up again. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

A wave of relief visibly washes over Tommy’s face. The worried frown turns back into that familiar soft smile, and Buck tells himself he is one hundred percent fine with how this whole conversation turned out.

He is fine not knowing.

He is fine.

~~~

Time passes and it feels like the universe is playing the ultimate prank on one Evan Buckley.

On the outside everything has returned to normal. Everyone’s lives seem to have fallen back in line. Bobby is once again leading them, Hen and Karen get Mara back, Eddie convinces Christopher to come home (and they are both regularly going to therapy about the whole Kim/Shannon of it all), Chimney’s latest appointment shows no lingering effects of the encephalitis… but Buck— Buck is… struggling. He is struggling, and he feels so guilty about it, but he can’t get past it.

If it’s not seeing the name Jay in—damn near constant—passing, it’s hearing random stories about the people Tommy has saved (and knowing somewhere out there is a story of someone significant he didn’t). It’s the little signs, and the messages, and the ads he keeps seeing; an online quiz on ‘how well do you know your partner’, a billboard about getting out of an untrustworthy relationship, a commercial about not keeping secrets.

They mean nothing, he knows that. He’s self-sabotaging, he knows that.

It doesn’t stop him from collecting each one like trading cards and adding them to his bin of thoughts until it’s full and he has to do something or it’s going to overflow and drown him.

“You planning on spending your day off here, Buckaroo?”

“Hmm…” Buck blinks, breaking from his thoughts and looking up from his phone—more specifically from the text that just came in. Chimney is standing in front of him, arms crossed, brows pulled together. “Oh, hey Chim—I was just watching—” but the TV is now off. “Huh? I was watching TV.”

Chimney hums, tucking his hands further under his arms. “Is everything okay,” he asks. “You and Tommy… you good?”

“What? Yeah. We’re— Why— why would you think we weren’t? Has he—”

“Whoa now; calm down,” Chimney laughs, putting his hands up in defense. “Tommy hasn’t said anything. You just seem… distracted. Ever since—” He pauses. “I just want to make sure you’re not still dwelling on the crap Gerrard said.”

“Oh, I—” His phone feels extremely heavy in his hand now. He gets the reminder of the unread text. He should probably say something before Chimney gets suspicious. “I’m fine,” he lies, and it makes his stomach sour instantly.

Chimney doesn’t move—doesn’t look away. “You sure about that?” Buck nods, thinking he might be sick if he tries to say another word. “Okay,” Chimney sighs. “You know, Buck… we all have done things we aren’t proud of. I know I have…” Buck is reminded of an angry fist, and a swollen black eye Chimney apologized for everytime they were alone for almost a year.

He is reminded of a lawsuit he still regrets, and a tipsy kiss that unintentionally spiraled him into his second serious relationship. He is reminded of sudden nerves burying him deep into a closet he hadn’t even realized he had been in all along. He is reminded of reaching out for help spying on his boyfriend because he can’t get out of his own head about something that could very much be nothing.

His phone vibrates; another reminder he has an unread text.

He waits until Chimney disappears down the stairs to look back at his phone.

I’ll be home at 8… see you then

~~~

Buck parks his jeep outside the apartment complex, takes the stairs up to the third floor, and stands awkwardly outside apartment 3C contemplating turning around and running back down before he is spotted. He doesn’t, and instead lifts his hand to knock.

A couple days ago his thought’s overfilled the bin … a couple days ago he could no longer ignore his curiosity … a couple days ago Buck came to one of the only people who doesn’t know Tommy enough to be emotionally invested in this … investigation … Buck decided he needed to go on.

A moment later the door is pulled open, and May is in front of him. “Hey,” she says, her smile mirroring Athena’s. “Come in!”

“Uh— Hey,” Buck says back, subconsciously wiping the sweat forming on his hands, off. “So did— did you find anything?” Her smile fades, she shifts on her feet. “You did… Is it — is it that bad…” he asks, wondering if he will even be able to hear her response over the sudden pounding of his heart.

“It’s not necessarily good,” she replies. He wishes he actually hadn’t been able to hear her. He feels himself start to deflate.

May walks to her room, comes back with her laptop, stalls just as she’s about to hand it to him. “Wait,” she says, pulling the laptop back to her chest and holding it there. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean… why make trouble in paradise when there isn’t any?”

“Is it really paradise if he’s hiding stuff from me?”

May sighs, and opens her laptop. “I guess not,” she says once her password is entered and everything she found is pulled up.

The first thing she shows him is the article released the day of the accident.

Tragedy on the Vincent Thomas Bridge

Unidentified man jumps from bridge into LA Harbor late Tuesday afternoon.

LAFD station 118 responded to calls that a man had climbed over the bridge railing. Witnesses say Thomas Kinard (Pictured above) a firefighter with the 118 was on scene trying to talk the man off the edge before he let go, falling 186 feet into the Harbor below.

Buck looks at the picture of a much younger Tommy, dazed and disheveled, one hand running through his hair. He thinks, I know that look… I’ve had that look. He thinks of Devon falling to the ground from the roller coaster. Suddenly he is regretting everything about this. He clicks to the next article anyway.

LGBTQ+ Community Speak Out On Bridge Suicide

Following the death of Jay Pridgen, a member of the LGBT community, rumors began of prejudices within LAFD Station 118, who were present at the scene of the accident. The rumors are calling the stations Captain, Vincent Gerrard, out for repeatedly exhibiting biased behaviors when dealing with minority groups. When asked, Gerrard had no comment. Also under fire is the first responder who was on the bridge with Pridgen. Kinard is being accused of stalling rather than actually trying to get Pridgen off the edge.

Fire Chief Releases A Statement on Alleged Homophobia Within Station 118

Bridge Tragedy Officially Ruled An Accident

While it’s unclear what Pridgen’s original intentions were when he climbed over the railing of the Vincent Thomas Bridge, Firefighter Thomas Kinard went on record Friday insisting Pridgen did not jump but instead fell to his death. Kinard states he was trying to get to him but was unable to before he slipped from the edge. While there are some who still are hoping for an investigation into LAFD, specifically station 118, Captain Vincent Gerrard says he hopes this new cause of death will allow everyone to move on from this clear and complete accident so his team can get back to their jobs without having to deal with the torches and pitchforks coming for them daily.

“Wow…” Buck says softly. “That’s— That’s a lot.”

“That’s… not all,” May admits, clicking on yet another link. “So even though the accident itself is really terrible, it felt weird that he would hide it from you. I mean Tommy’s part of the community, it’s not like he really let this guy fall because he’s gay… right? So I kept digging and I found… this.” Buck holds his breath, May pulls up a picture. It’s an army Platoon, and upon closer inspection it’s Tommy’s platoon.

“I don’t understand,” Buck says.

“Once I had Jay’s full name I searched it together with Tommy’s… just to see if there were any more articles on the accident, but I found this picture instead.” She scrolls up to reveal the names of the soldier’s; the man in the middle next to Tommy, arm draped over his shoulder holding Tommy tight to his side… is Jay Pridgen.

“Oh my god… they— they knew each other?” And well that definitely adds a whole new layer to how traumatic Jay's death must have been. Buck sighs and closes May’s laptop. He thanks her for going through all the articles and everything for him, even if it feels wrong to thank someone for invading Tommy’s privacy.

He rides home in silence, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He feels crappy, and insensitive… he collapses onto his bed the second he reaches it. Maybe he can sleep on it and his head will be clearer in the morning. Honestly he thinks he would like to just forget about this whole thing; that sounds like a very good idea.

His phone dings.

A notification that Tommy tagged him in a photo. He opens it and is met with himself and Tommy, standing in front of a gorgeous sunset on the beach; bodies pressed against each other, noses touching and their lips just a breath away from a kiss. Yeah, he’s all mine <3 Buck feels the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he double taps the image watching the red heart bloom out from his thumb.

He is so happy. Why is he trying to ruin that for himself? He clicks on Tommy’s account, looking through all the pictures Tommy has posted of him, and of them together. A visual confirmation of the true meaning of happiness that Buck has finally found. Buck has liked them all already, so he just scrolls through them.

Next thing he knows he has gone back to before they met. Tommy didn't use social media that much, at least not in the recent years before they got together. He only has a handful of images from each year and some years there’s gaps where he didn’t post anything.

Buck doesn’t think he’s ever gone so deep into Tommy’s account before. He decides to go all the way back to the beginning and scroll up. He can’t help but laugh at how tiny Tommy looks in the very first pictures he posted; horrible quality shots of him showing off his baby muscles (compared to the ones he has now anyway), giving his best smolder for the camera. As he starts scrolling through them it’s so reminiscent of his own earlier days on the app, just thirst trap after thirst trap and Buck is kind of loving the experience.

He goes through them, liking each one, before he notices something that has him sitting up in his bed.

It’s a picture taken up in the snow; a picture taken in NorCal. Tommy's mom lives in NorCal so that’s not surprising… what is surprising is the top name on the list of likes. It’s Jay. Buck blinks at the name thinking the letters might shift and he’ll realize he’s just reading the username wrong; it’s JPridge82, he’s definitely not reading it wrong. He scrolls up to the next picture. Tommy with his mom; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in his 118 turnouts; liked by JPridge82. Tommy in bed clearly wrapped around another body, his eyes are half-lidded and tired, the caption reads wake me up before you go go; liked by JPridge82, and a comment… but you're so cute when you sleep, baby! Tommy replies: oh shut up! XD

It easily could be read as banter; he and Eddie play flirt like that all the time. Next picture: a restaurant table Buck recognizes oh too intimately. Think I found my new favorite Italian restaurant; liked by JPridge82 and replies: sameee

A picture of two shadows holding hands. Take my hand, take my whole life too. It’s askew enough you only see part of the bodies and then their hands (enough you can’t see their heights are the same, Buck thinks. That would have raised questions for sure.) Liked by JPridge82; aww baby look at us xoxo. Tommy replies: my god you are ridiculous

The inside of Tommy’s old truck, two coffee cups in the holders. Let’s get out of this town <3. Liked by JPridge82.

The next picture is a new thirst trap, of sorts. Tommy standing in the mirror shirtless. He isn’t flexing, or posing. Just standing there. No caption. No like by JPridge82, but there is a comment from Sal. Not the mopey instagram posts! She wasn’t for you, man! Let it go, you’ll find new ass in no time. Tommy didn’t respond.

The pictures slowly turn from selfies, to work related, to memes. Some of which are extremely questionable; putting down women, or minorities. Some are downright hateful. They are so unlike the Tommy he knows now. They are definitely giving Buck a look at this person Gerrard was referring to when he made the comment about Buck not knowing the “real” Tommy. He thinks of what Chimney and Hen said; that he has profusely apologized for how he was back when they started. Why hasn’t he taken them down then.

He sets his jaw, trying to not let the annoyance building set him off, and goes back to the last picture Jay liked. He clicks on the username. “Dammit,” he mumbles out loud. His account is private.

He gets an idea.

It’s one that on a typical day he would be annoyed with himself for having… but it’s almost three in the morning he is running off pure adrenaline now and he isn’t thinking like he typically would… he logs out of his own Instagram and logs into Tommy’s.

It’s not that he was being sneaky and eavesdropped on Tommy entering his password, Tommy literally typed it out right in front of him. He had taken a picture of them and needed to log in to post it. He is always saying he has nothing to hide from Buck… Seems like he had one thing to hide.

Buck’s heart is pounding into his ears as he opens Tommy’s followers list. Maybe they weren’t even following each other anymore, Buck thinks, his thumb lingering over the search bar. Maybe he should just back out of this while he’s still somewhat in the dark, before he brings to light something he doesn’t want to know.

JPridge82.

Buck feels his heart completely stop beating. He shouldn’t do this. Hell, he shouldn’t be on Tommy’s instagram in the first place. He clicks on the name anyway. Immediately his suspensions are answered. Private accounts come with freedom; freedom to share whatever you want because you control who can see it. And Jay didn’t have that many followers, so they likely all knew the truth.

Jay’s photo bin looks eerily similar to how Tommy’s account looks now, except its picture after picture of Tommy and Jay together.

One in bed, Tommy’s head resting on Jay’s chest. One from what must have been a hike, far from any peeping eyes; a kiss in front of a waterfall. Their hands clasped together over the center console of one of their cars. A movie date; Buck and Tommy have still never made up their missed movie date, never had the time. He doesn’t mean for the jealousy that starts to bloom deep in his chest, but it’s there and he is too drained to even attempt to push it away.

He wonders why Tommy wouldn’t tell him about such a pivotal time of his life.

My Forever <3 Jay captions a picture of Tommy staring out at the ocean, his hair wet and tousled like he just came out of the water.

Buck looks through the pictures, each one feeling like a stab to the chest—this was not meant for him to see. This was something beautiful Tommy had… and lost… and he wanted to keep it to himself. But Buck can never leave well enough alone, and he took that decision from Tommy.

He is about to close his phone when he sees Jay’s last post isn’t a picture but text.

I wish I had been enough of a reason for you to stop lying about who you are. Posted — August 8, 2010. A week before the accident.

Buck closes his phone, but he doesn’t—he can’t—go to sleep.

~~~

There’s a knock on his door.

Buck wishes he could just hide under his covers and pretend he doesn’t hear it; he knows exactly who it is.

He spent his first day off avoiding Tommy. He had hoped Tommy hadn’t caught on; he was working a 24 and from the already scarcity of his calls and texts, it seemed the shift was a busy one. Usually as soon as Tommy is suspicious of Buck’s behavior he will go hide somewhere so he can call—and will repeatedly call—to figure out what’s wrong. He hasn’t pressed once as Buck went through literally every excuse in the book as to why he wasn’t able to talk, and he has seemed just as unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm in all of Buck’s texts.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Another knock. He could continue to ignore it, but Tommy has a key.

Buck groans and pushes off his bed, taking the steps one at a time for once; no reason other than to prolong reaching the door. “Hey baby,” Tommy says, cheery and bright, the second Buck opens it. “Were you sleeping?”

I wish, Buck thinks. “I… was,” Buck lies. “What’s all this…”

In Tommy’s hands there’s a huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a card. He hands Buck the card first. “Uh— let’s call it an… it seems like I’ve done something and haven’t realized what it is yet… surprise.” Buck can’t help the laugh that escapes him. What does he say to that… yeah you have, I just haven’t rationalized whether I truly deserve to be mad at you about it or not. “So… go on, read it.”

Buck sighs, finally looking down at the card in his hands. My forever is written in Tommy’s small ridiculously neat handwriting with a heart at the end. He stares at the card, his mind going right back to a private account and a picture captioned My Forever <3.

“I— I know… cheesy right?”

Buck breaks his eyes away from the words, bringing them up to Tommy’s. “Why— why would you put that…”

“Uhm—” Tommy looks at him confused, if not a little hurt. “I mean… I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be so on the nose… but that is what I see with you… if you don’t—”

“Is that what you saw with Jay too?” Buck asks before he can stop himself.

Tommy’s eyes widen, he steps back. “What…”

Buck has been here before. Putting himself in an awkward situation and so yet his mouth still starts moving against his better judgment. “I mean… that’s what he saw with you… but maybe it was only one-sided.” Tommy doesn’t speak, continuing to stare at Buck like he has grown a second head. Might as well rip the bandaid off, he thinks; shrugs. “You didn’t want to talk about him… so I just found out myself. It’s not like it’s hard to pull up an old news article.”

“You— but how did you get on his—” Tommy blinks, a new look crossing his face; he knows what Buck did. It should make Buck feel bad; it does make him feel bad… but it also makes him feel defensive. He deserved to know—if only he truly believed that.

“I’ve told you everything, Tommy!” He snaps. “I’ve told you all about my past, all my relationships, Daniel. Every sad, and hard, and embarrassing, and traumatic experience… I told you. But you... You’re this big mystery. You don’t talk about anything. The only thing you’ve told me about your past is that it makes you jealous of mine…” The tension in Tommy’s face has gone slack, and he’s just taking the lecture with calmness; meanwhile Buck’s heart is about to pound out of his chest and his skin has gone hot and numb. “But did you ever think that maybe the reason we’re like a family is because we treat each other like equals. Instead of like some of them are beneath us...”

That gets him a reaction; finally, he thinks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you and Chimney and Hen always got along… like you didn’t follow Gerrard’s lead when they first started…” Tommy looks at him like a kicked puppy; Buck internally screams at himself that it’s enough. It’s not enough, he adds: “Not to mention all the crap you used to share. That you probably got a good laugh about with all your buddies at the expense of others.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Tommy cries.

Buck sees red, throwing the unopened card down on the table and storming up to his phone. He doesn’t even log out of Tommy’s account, just finds the memes and shoves them in his face. “This is what you think is funny?”

“Evan, these are— do you even realize how long ago this was?!”

“What difference does that make!?” Buck screams back.

Tommy sighs, and hands Buck back his phone. “No… you’re— you’re right. It doesn’t make a difference… it doesn’t make it okay.”

Buck thinks he’s said enough. He has revealed what he knows. “So is that what happened with you and Jay…” he says instead… the words sliding their way out of his mouth and he can’t stop them. “He couldn’t live a lie any more… couldn’t live your lie anymore.” It’s rolling off his tongue so easily, it actually disgusts him. But the words pass his lips and he watches the exact moment they slap Tommy across the face and the man gasps like he’d actually just been assaulted. His eyes instantly fill with tears and he has to break his eyes from Buck in an attempt to blink them away.

“You— you have no idea what you're talking about, Evan. You had no right to…”

“To what? Question if I really know the man I was considering spending the rest of my life with? I’ve been through this, Tommy, too many times. You think you know someone… and it turns out you don’t.”

“How can you even say that?!” Tommy all but screams, rubbing the back of his hand—still holding on to the bottle of wine—over his eyes and nose. “Okay yeah, I didn’t tell you about a really hard time in my life… and maybe given everything surrounding it I should have. Maybe I should have even told you about how it was when Howie and Hen first started. And yes, I should have gone through and deleted all those posts a long time ago… But to say you don’t really know me? Those things don’t define me!”

“They sure say a lot though…”

Tommy goes silent. He takes a few calming breaths, fresh tears in his eyes and trails running down both cheeks. “So— so what is this— what are we— what does this mean, then… for us?”

Buck shrugs. “That maybe I'm not your forever,” he says, tightening his jaw so it won’t betray the stone cold persona he is trying to uphold by trembling.

Tommy freezes, the bottle of wine and roses he’s still holding suddenly seem so out of place. “You don’t mean—” he starts; he searches Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to find a different answer. He doesn’t seem to find one. “Really?” Buck doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t take it back either. He just swallows around the lump forming in his throat and manages to hold his composure. “Okay… if that’s—” he shifts on his feet, breaking away from Buck’s eyes; Buck is grateful for it. “O- Okay.”

He sits the roses and wine on the table by the card and turns for the door. “You— you don’t need to leave those…” Buck manages to say; it sounds so petty, it disgusts him.

Tommy opens the door and turns back to the roses. “Think of it as… a goodbye gift,” he says, quietly, giving a halfhearted laugh. He turns his head farther, so he is again looking at Buck, giving him one more chance to take it back. He doesn’t. “Good-bye, Buck,” Tommy says and pulls the door closed behind him.

[thisisxli]

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭. - 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆.

Rs: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader (amab/afab/no implied gender)

warnings: denial of feelings, unrequited love almost, rejection, grief, weaponizing, major deaths, ANGST, manga spoilers

Tags: right person/wrong place or not enough time, realizes things too late, VERY little fluff if you squint, Satoru is head over heels for reader, Satoru is kind, Reader is shitty with feelings

Summary: You refuse to be swayed by the one whom they call 'the strongest.' That is until you realized you were truly too late.

wc: 0.7k

recommended song:

a/n: if you enjoyed this work, you can read more by visiting my Masterlist. :) made inspired by my poll post!

To say you didn't like Gojo was an understatement. In fact, it wasn't true at all. But you were scared and you knew that. You knew that him being the strongest lures in a lot of curses. And you never knew when you were gonna die either; so every time he asked you out, you declined. Every. Single. Time. Of course, there were times where you... have warmed up to him. At some points. He even made you laugh a little. But you remember that the world you live in wasn't normal. It was cruel.

"(Y/N), I got a mission assigned to me and I might need your help-" "no. I know what you're trying to do and it's not working."

Even if it were the smallest things he'd ask for, you would refuse to do so or even help him in the slightest. To sum it all up, you were awfully rude and blunt towards the white-haired man.

Even if it was him being sealed away, Nanami dying, and Sukuna about destroying the whole city of Shibuya. You completely shut yourself off from Jujutsu society and everyone else, you were simply a coward. A traitor some would say. A scoundrel. You couldn't even bring yourself to talk to Itadori who you knew needed more comfort than you did.

You spent your time wallowing away, a uneasy feeling in your stomach when you catch yourself reminiscing Gojo. You can't help but look for him in the crowd, turning your head when you catch people with similar colognes, and blue eyes. But none were him. And yet, you kept telling yourself you didn't care about him. He didn't know you. Not like that at least. And you didn't know him; you two were simply just strangers. You didn't want a single thing to do with him, you told yourself.

Your knees nearly started to buckle when you hear he had been released, immediately going into battle in the upcoming fight. Of course, you were there to witness it. To catch his lingering gaze on you. To catch his toothy smile. It felt like it had been such a long time since you've seen him, only though it's been almost a month.

"Nonsense!" You shout, slamming your fist on a table with tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. You were absolutely opposed to their newfound plan for if 'Gojo lost' against Sukuna. Like hell you would ever let these fuckers use him up like that! Not like how Geto was used- you couldn't. Not him. Especially not him. You didn't even know why you were protesting, watching his face turn into a look into surprise filled you with embarrassment along with others' deafening silence in the room. Luckily, Yuta had the exact same idea. "As if! Ridiculous! The audacity! To use that man after all we used of him already?!?!" A few head shakes at your words, looking away to avoid your gaze. They understood you but everyone, even you knew it had to be done. "What about Gojo-sensei?! Gojo-sensei isn't important?! Haven't we all kept on pushing him to become a monster of his own??! If he's gone, it has to be someone else..! If no one else will, then I will become one!" Yuta declared.

You were surprised to say at the least. Your protests were heard through and through. But they didn't listen, no, not at all. Even Yuta went through with it. There wasn't much you both could've done but sit there and let things happen.

Not once did Gojo say one word to you after he was unsealed. Before he went into battle, he gave you a prideful smirk and winked at you before giving you a softer look just as he left. Now there was something nagging you. What was it? And then, you knew.

You knew when you saw his dead body laid flat on a metal table covered by thin cushioned paper. Yuta was dying soon too. You knew what had to be done and you knew how you truly felt now and what you needed to do a long time ago. "Satoru!" You sob your heart out as Yuta was being talked through, soon to be operated with Gojo. "I love you, I love you so much! I'm sorry," you cling onto his cold bloody hands before feeling him slip through your fingers, your hands weakly reaching out to his dead body being escorted out the door by Shoko, "don't leave me."

a/n: sorry if I didn't do too well with the ending here. I still hope you enjoyed it :)

[natalievoncatte]

This isn’t really a ficlet. It’s more of a screen test. If I like it and you like it, this might be my next project after my SCBB fic is done. I’ll start posting excerpts of that soon!

CW: Mentions of death and dying, and loss.

Of all the things to kill Lena Luthor, it was a heel shearing off her shoe. It wasn’t even a proper high heel, just a two inch rise on a pair of rather stately shoes from a designer of no particular note. Lena had since passed on the Louboutins, and had long adopted more conservative cuts for her suits and dresses. She’d given up her title as CEO decades ago and now fulfilled the role of director emeritus of L-Corp’s research and development division.

It had been a good life, except for one glaring exception. She’d cured over twenty types of common cancers, developed vaccines, and almost personally reversed global warming. She had only one regret as the heel sheared off her shoe and she went tumbling down the stairs to the floor of the L-Corp lobby.

Curiously, she was only dimly aware of the pain. It was something distant, like it was happening to someone else. She heard more than felt a crushing blow to her hip and when the marble rushed up to fill her vision, the world simply went explosively white and the only thing she felt was cold.

The world stayed white, which had perplexed her. Lena had never believed in any sort of life after death, even though she had a vague sense of the supernatural. Her mother was rumored to be a witch in the Irish village where she grew up, and she’d been told as much when she visited as an adult to seek out her roots. She expected, well, nothing. Not even an awareness that there was nothing, just an absence. As she grew older, on those nights when her mortality came crashing down around her in the fitful depths of the early morning when sleep rejected her, she would rationalize death as simply not having to get up tomorrow.

She did not expect to find herself standing in her old office, the one from a lifetime ago. Her stark minimalist desk dominated the room. Without knowing why, she ran the pads of her fingers along its cool length, a ghost of a sad smile dusting her lips.

The sofa was there, too. She could barely bring herself to look at it. After Kara’s betrayal, she had disposed of it thoroughly and rearranged the office. She’d eventually be driven out of the room entirely by grief and settled into another office on a lower floor and began spending more time at home, but the penthouse gave her no solace, either, and she ended up selling it and ultimately moved the research and development department back to Metropolis and worked there.

Lena’s breath caught at the sight of a familiar photograph on one of her bookcases. She took it in trembling hands, knowing then that this must be an illusion or a dream, because she’d smashed the frame and shredded this photograph in her own two fingers.

It was her and Kara, faces pressed together and grinning, their eyes so radiant with joy that it burned Lena’s heart to see and she immediately hurled it across the room, hurling it at a vase of rare plumerias that Kara had brought for her, leaving behind a full belly and a soaring heart.

A hand plucked it casually from the air and set it on an end table near the sofa. Lena stood her ground, though her legs began to tremble.

Standing in her office was a man she didn’t know, dressed smartly in a black suit that would have been in fashion all those years ago. He had a curiously calm air about him, reserved and almost peaceful.

“Who are you?” said Lena. “I’m dead, right? Are you God? The Devil?”

“I am not a god, nor am I one of the true immortals, though it is said that in strange æons, even death may die.”

“Then who are you?”

“My name is Mxyzptlk. Kara might, perhaps, have told you of me.”

“No.”

He snorted softly.

“Typical. I am a very long lived being, Lena Luthor. My kind measure our lives in eons, and as a wise human once said, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. For the last ten thousand years, I have been a troublemaker and an imp. Now I shall be something else. I have decided I shall be grand and wise.”

“What does that have to do with me?” said Lena.

“Not you. Kara. I still owe her a debt, and I must balance myself before I truly transition into my next iteration. I am here to balance that debt.”

“How?”

“By giving you the opportunity to give love one last chance.”

“I was never in love with-“

“Do not lie to me.”

Lena took a half step back, grabbing the desk for balance. Mxyzptlk took a few steps closer.

“I am as far beyond you as you are beyond an ant, the very forces of chaos and entropy heed my command. All time is an open book to me. Whether you admit it to yourself or not, you never married because you were hoping they Kara would stop giving you space and time to heal like you said you wanted, but never did.”

“How dare you? You don’t-“

“What Kara did to you, the way she manipulated her identities to confuse you, was cruel. Lying to you for so long was cruel.”

“Then why should I take you up on whatever this is?”

“A do-over. You’ll go back with your memories intact. You’ll have the chance to set right what once went wrong, and so will she. Or you can avoid her entirely and seek happiness elsewhere. You can leave National City behind or refuse her lunch invitations or whatever it is you think you wish you’d done. I’m not here to force you to love her. I’m giving you another chance, in truth, on her behalf. One she would pigheadedly refuse out of some misplaced sense of morals or decency.”

“Have you offered this to her?”

“No. Where she has gone now, I cannot follow. I can’t even show you where she is: her god has taken her home to his warm light. She rests in the lush fields of a prehistoric Krypton she never knew, spending eternity with her family. Rao has even used his strength and purpose to talk Mother Sol into allowing the Danvers into his domain.”

Lena’s voice cracked. “What?”

“Kara passed earlier today on Argo, from old age and cumulative injuries from her time as Supergirl, without a yellow star to protect her from them.”

“It sounds like she’s happy,” said Lena, turning away. “I… I still want her to be happy.”

“Rao is a bold god, a strong and protective one, but he is an honest lord. He does not give her the gift of forgetting, and perfect memory of love lost can be make a hell of heaven.”

“She loved me?”

“As much as you loved her. Enough to let you go.”

Lena’s hands began to shake. “It’s been so long. How-“

There was a knock at the door. Lena jumped, almost falling.

Mxyzptlk flashed to her side, crossing the space without moving.

“Choose now.”

“Who’s out there?”

“I don’t know. Whoever has the strongest claim over your soul, I suppose. You must choose now; to delay a true god is beyond even me.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Do it,” she whispered.

The world went mad. Everything was spinning, and trying to throw her stomach out of her body through her nose. The acrid smell of jet fuel and burning electronics stung her nose. The pilot beside her was unconscious.

And then…

The spinning slowed, and she was no longer falling. A gentle sense of lift raised her into the air, the city falling away from the cracked glass in front of her. Very gently, the helicopter came to rest on the roof, and she glimpsed a familiar figure in a cape and skirt, and her heart nearly exploded in her chest. There was a gust of wind that rocked the chopper and ice crystals crawled over the glass, crackling in the National City sunshine.

Then, she was there. Kara tore the door loose in a single, fluid motion and climbed inside, pausing to check the pilot, peering through flesh and bone to asses his injuries.

Then she looked at Lena.

Kara’s breath caught, and her pupils blew wide. Kara stared at Lena like she was something knew, unknown and wondrous, the edges of her lips curling just so despite the self serious tone as she asked if Lena was okay.

It was her. Alive, here, now. Lena couldn’t help herself; she lifted a trembling hand to cup Kara’s soft cheek, without thinking. Her throat nearly closed and no words escaped her lips. She just felt that warm, soft skin and stared right back into Kara’s otherworldly eyes, savoring the tickle of Kara’s loose honey curls slipping over the back of her hand.

“Miss Luthor,” Kara said. “Your heart is racing. We’d better get you an ambulance.”

“You saved me,” Lena whispered.

“That’s what I do,” said Kara, winking at her.

Lena almost died again.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Is there an existing genre that contains both heavy angst and ridiculous comedy? Because whatever genre that is called, I’m gonna need its tag name soon 🥸😂

[lokidokieokie]

Shattered Dreams

Summary: Soulmates are meant to be the one thing that makes you feel whole; but you've just been shattered.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of suicidal thoughts, heartbreak, sad!reader, mentions of soulmate bond,

You sat in the crowded hall, watching from the sidelines as Loki and his soulmate exchanged their vows of everlasting love.

The moment that was seen as beautiful to all of Asgard was soul-crushing for you. After all, how many people can say that they saw their soulmate get married to another?

You remember it as if it was yesterday; the day you finally saw those stunning emeralds. It was the day that changed everything; the day that shattered your hopes and dreams.

Because, although you finally saw colour; Loki didn't.

So, as the ceremony began to reach it's final stages, you quietly slipped away from the crowd and into the gardens. The one place where you could be alone with your thoughts; no matter how horrid they may be.

You walked to the closest bench and sat down, as tears began to slip out of your eyes. The pain in your chest was too much to bare. And it didn't help that your mind was stuck on the 'what ifs'.

But you were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of footsteps; those all-too familiar footsteps.

Pulling your hands away from your face, your eyes met those sparkling green irises that you loved.

"Y/n, I wanted to talk to you," he said softly, taking the seat next to you.

You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded, your eyes now fixed to the grass floor underneath you.

Loki hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I- I know that today was difficult for you, and I'm so sorry for any hurt that you being here today caused. But you have no idea how much it means to me that you've shown up today."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "An apology isn't going to fix anything, Loki. I loved you, and you chose someone else."

He reached out to take your hand, "I know, but I am sorry. But you have to understand, I couldn't ignore my connection with her. It was too compelling."

You shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. "I know how compelling the soulmate bond is. And I understand, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't make the fact that you married someone else any less painful."

His face softened, and he reached to wipe your tears away. "I wish I could make it go away, Y/n. I wish I could take away all your pain."

You looked up at him, your eyes now filled with a mix of sorrow and anger. "You can't Loki. You don't get to come here and make everything better. You made your choice; you chose her. And I have to live with the consequences."

He nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I know. But I just want you to know that I care about you, Y/n. And that I always will."

You felt your heart shatter into millions of pieces at his words. "It's too late for that, Loki. You made your choice, and I have to live with the fact that I'll never be with the person I love; the person I was destined to be with."

They both sat in silence for a while, the both of them lost in their own thoughts. You knew that this was your goodbye, there was no moving past this for you.

As Loki stood up to leave, he turned to look at her one last time. "Goodbye, Y/n. I hope you're able to find happiness one day."

It was dark now. You had been sitting at the bench for what must've been at least a couple hours by now.

Eventually, you stood up, and walked towards the edge of the garden, overlooking the cliffs and crashing waves in the cavern below. You felt numb; shattered beyond repair.

As you looked out into the abyss, you couldn't help but think about all the moments you had shared with Loki. All the stolen glances and secret smiles. The late-night conversations and moments of pure bliss.

But now, it was all gone. You would never have those moments with Loki again. You would never have Loki.

A small part of you wanted to jump off the cliff, to end the pain once and for all. But you knew that wasn't the answer. You had to keep going, even though every step of the way felt like a knife stabbing your heart repeatedly.

As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of yourself hanging in the mirror on the garden wall. You barely recognised the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen from tears, your face was pale, and your hair was a downright mess.

You knew you couldn't go back to the wedding reception. You couldn't bring yourself to face the happy couple and pretend that everything as okay. You had to leave; you had to get away from the pain.

You quickly walked back to the bench and grabbed what little items you brought with you, and then left the garden. As you walked through the hallways of the castle, you could hear the faint sound of music and laughter from the reception.

It all felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of everything that you had lost. You couldn't take it anymore.

As you reached the grand entry, you hesitated before opening them. You stepped out into the cold night air, the wind whipping your hair into your face.

You took one last look at the castle, knowing that it would be the last time you would ever see it. You turned and walked away, her heart heavy with grief and regret once more.

As you walked down the path, even more tears freely flowing down your face, you knew that you could never be the same. The love that you had for Loki had consumed your entire being, and now it had ultimately destroyed you.

You had no idea where you were going, or what you would do next. All you knew is that you could never go back to the life you had lived before. You had to start over, and find a way to live without the person you loved.

But you knew deep down that you would never be happy again. The pain of your unrequited love would haunt you for the rest of your life.

A/N that was probably the most angsty thing I've ever written.

Also, please know that you're never alone, and that there is always someone willing to listen. If you ever need to rant about anything, my inbox is always open.

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee  @dryyoursaltyoceantears as per usual, lemme know if you want to be tagged

[thedemoninme141]

Blade Of Miquella Chapter 10: Remember Me My Woe.

Summary: A life spent with Wednesday... but a death left unshared. Warnings: ANGST! HEAVY ANGST! HeartWarmingMoments, EmotionallyWhippedWednesday!!! Previous Chapter 👉 Here Blade Of Miquella Chapter-List 👉 Here "Would you mind if I sit here?" You opened your eyes to see the braided girl. A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you leisurely unfurled your eyes, acknowledging her with a glance. "Yes, I would mind." you retorted in a jesting tone, a smirk playing on your lips. "Pity, It seems fate has already conspired against your preferences." Her words carried an undertone of amusement as she settled herself beside you, seamlessly claiming her place in your tranquil haven. "You aren't like the other students," she remarked, a wisp of nostalgia in her voice. It was a playful attempt to recreate the memory of your initial encounter, a memory that you held dear. "Neither are you." You smiled. Her next words bore a hint of whimsy, a spark of lightheartedness that underscored the gravity of her statement.  "It seems the threads of fate have woven us together, doesn't it?" The distance between you closed as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of the bond that had steadily grown between you.

It has been a week since you were discharged from the hospital, and Wednesday remained a constant presence by your side. Her typewriter found a new home in your room, a testament to the intimacy that had taken root between you. Since you had one less period than her you waited under your maple tree that had become both of yours since she also spent the lunch time with you there.

As Wednesday felt the gentle weight of your head against her shoulder, a rare sensation of lightness enveloped her. The touch of your skin against hers never failed to stir a warm feeling within her otherwise cold and unyielding heart. Even within this moment of tranquillity, her thoughts meandered back to the private conversation she had shared with your brother the previous night.

The moonlight had cast a soft glow as they spoke, the gravity of the topic hanging between them like a shroud. John, your steadfast and devoted brother, deserved to be informed, despite the heavy burden of truth it carried. He had the right to know. "So... you think there is no cure for her?" John sighed. "I can't claim certainty, but it appears more likely that it's neither a malady nor a curse. Y/n and this entity Malenia... their souls are intricately intertwined, each reliant on the other's existence," Wednesday's voice carried a weight of sorrow. The truth pained her as much as it did him, but the revelation was necessary, he was risking his life to find a cure after all. "Did you tell her yet?" John's inquiry cut through the heavy air, his concern mirroring her own. "No, I couldn't, I..." Wednesday couldn't find the right words. "Because you're not ready to shatter the hope she clings to." John's words held a profound understanding. "And neither am I," he added "So, would you still tell her?" Wednesday's question hung in the air, a plea for guidance, a plea for your sake. "I don't think I have the strength to do so." he confessed, his voice tinged with the burden of his emotions. He looked at Wednesday, "You don't have the strength either, right?" He asked, Wednesday looked down and nodded. "What are you going to do now?" she asked. "Even if there is no cure for her, the Golden Order still poses a threat to Y/n," John replied, determination entering his tone. "They'll continue their pursuit to get to her." "How will you stop them then?" She inquired. "By getting to them first." He answered.

"Would you come with me to the train station Wednesday?" You got her out of her thoughts, "For you, I would traverse the ends of the world," she replied, her words filled with a sincerity that resonated in the air. The smile you directed at her ignited a warmth within her heart. "Is there anything you wouldn't do if I asked?" you inquired, affection glittering in your eyes as they met hers. "No, there isn't," Wednesday answered without hesitation, her voice a steady affirmation of her devotion. "Then I ask you this one thing – remember me," you implored, your hands gently finding hers as you moved before her, your head tilting to rest atop hers. Your whispered words, a plea for a promise that carried a weight beyond their simplicity, hung in the air. Confusion flickered in Wednesday's eyes, her brow furrowing in question. "What do you mean?" Your hands tenderly found hers, and as you moved in front of her, your head gently met hers, a whisper shared in the fragile space between you. "Just promise me that you will remember me as much as you can." Wednesday found herself hypnotized by your touch, her heart resonating with the sincerity in your gaze. Your words resonated in the air, etching a promise into her very being. "I promise," she whispered On the journey back from the station, Wednesday wanted to remove that sad look from your face that had seemed to settle there after saying goodbyes to your brother. Right when she was about to drop you off in your room, she finally asked, "Do you need me to stay with you tonight?" She needed more time with you, She needed You. She knew you would accept, or that's what she thought. Your hesitation was palpable, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. Inwardly, Wednesday questioned herself. Why? Did she do something wrong? Was it too early to ask to spend the night with you? Enid told her it's something that couples do together. She cursed herself for listening to Enid. "I am scared." You whispered. Confusion deepened, her brows furrowing in concern. Scared? Scared of what? The emotions that danced within your eyes were a complex array of emotions she struggled to interpret. "I am scared that I might.. hurt you in my sleep. I might lose control in my sleep, I don't want to hurt you like I did to my mother." Your vulnerability was a raw wound, and in that moment, Wednesday understood the depth of your apprehensions. Without hesitation, she drew you into an embrace, her presence a shield against the fears that threatened to consume you. "You won't, you didn't when she had full control of you, instead you protected me. That's how I know, you are the one I would follow." Her voice, soft and unwavering, was a testament to her unwavering faith in you. As you looked up at her, your eyes shimmering with hope, Wednesday's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. She held you tighter, as if trying to convey through touch the depth of her commitment. "I am sorry. I.." "One day at a time." Her words cut through your apologies, "One day at a time is fine by me. As long as those days are with you, One day at a time is all we've got." She said.

One day became One week,

"Just BE NORMAL WITH HER!" Enid said pushing Wednesday out of the door. "And don't you dare even think about suggesting a graveyard for your date!"

Confidence had always been her ally, but now, as she stood before your door, her heart pounded with a nervous fervor that she had never before experienced. 3 knocks. Then she waited for you to open the door with her heart trying to jump out of her chest. When you did open, however, She was pretty sure it did jump out of her chest, you stood there in a black dress, a bit brighter than her own but still black enough, She couldn't move. Though she had always recognized your profound beauty, tonight, you were a revelation, a goddess in human form. "Wednesday," your voice carried a tender note, a shy vulnerability that only served to heighten your captivating charm. Inwardly, Wednesday longed to offer a compliment, to convey the depth of her admiration in a mere phrase. Yet, her thoughts tangled like a web, her attempts at articulation falling short in the face of your resplendence. How could mere words encapsulate the grandeur that stood before her? Enid's lessons in compliments seemed woefully inadequate in the face of your magnificence. You seem to notice the reddening in her cheeks as you smiled. "So which grave are we going?" You asked jokingly taking her hands as a hint for her to guide you.  She smirked. "Not a grave," she answered.

Vulnerability of emotions was a foreign terrain for Wednesday, a territory she had spent her life avoiding. The concept of being open and exposed had been anathema to her existence. But now, as you lay beside her near the tranquil lake in the heart of the jungle, a location she had meticulously chosen for this very purpose, you spoke of your past and your preferences, sharing fragments of your life that wedged their way into the cracks of her defenses. You opened up to her and she found herself captivated not just by your words, but by the way the moonlight played upon your features, casting an ethereal glow that matched the enchantment of the surroundings.

She realized that this was a different kind of vulnerability – one she willingly embraced. The walls she had built, fortified by years of detachment and isolation, seemed to crumble in the face of the connection she shared with you.

In this moment, beneath the star-studded sky, Wednesday acknowledged that allowing herself to feel vulnerable for you wasn't a weakness, but a profound testament to the strength of what you both shared. It was a vulnerability she was willing to explore, for in your presence, she found a sense of solace that no amount of morbid detachment could offer.

One week turned into a month, 

"Would you mind if I sit here?" You heard the voice of your love as a smile formed on your lips. "Would you mind if I hold your hand while you join me?" With a tender gesture, you extended your hand toward her, a silent offer laced with affection. "Never." She said as she accepted your hand, settling down beside you. This time, her head found a comfortable resting place on your shoulder, a touch that conveyed an unspoken intimacy. "Semester is almost over. Enid and the others are planning to go home." You said.  "Good, that means we will finally have some peace from their obnoxious chattering." Wednesday quipped. A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "You do realize you're free to leave too, don't you?" you said. "To exchange the quality moments I can have with you for my clingy soul-sucking family? Pass. The only torment I relish is the affectionate one you bestow upon me, not theirs," she quirked, her lips curving into a playful smile.  "But what if they miss you? And your brother?" you inquired, your curiosity genuine.  "My decision is already made. Pugsley is welcome to visit whenever he pleases." "I guess, I would love to meet with him." You said. "He is weak. He always needed my protection." "Wednesday!" You reprimanded smiling. "Do you think I am weak too?" you mused, your head finding a place atop hers, your cheek resting on her hair as your fingers intertwined. "Quite the opposite, Your courage in the face of adversity often leaves me envious. Not that I lack bravery, but your fearlessness, coupled with your innate kindness, makes you the most exceptional person I know. While those imbeciles fleeted, you went against the storm. You stood against a threat you had no idea of just to protect this school." Her response was swift, yet brimming with honesty. You gently lifted your head from its resting place atop hers. "I never did it for the school," you confessed. Wednesday raised her head from your shoulder, her eyes meeting yours. You gazed into her eyes, darkness encircling a core of unwavering affection, a love as unique and profound as she was. "I did it for you. And I would do it all over again, just for you." You said.

In that moment, as the weight of your words hung in the air, even after she hurt you back then, you still risked your life to protect her. Wednesday found herself drawn further into the depths of your unwavering devotion. Your confession resonated with a sincerity that was undeniable, and as she gazed into your eyes, she saw nothing but the truth of your feelings reflected in their depths. The allure of your love was irresistible, a magnetic force that tugged at the very fabric of her being. Without a word, Wednesday closed the remaining distance between you, her movements deliberate and sure. The atmosphere between you was charged, a palpable energy that seemed to envelop you both. And then, your lips met in a gentle, tender kiss – a moment suspended in time, a fusion of emotions and desires that words could never adequately capture. The kiss was a silent promise, an unspoken vow that affirmed the depth of your feelings and the sincerity of your commitment. It was a moment of vulnerability and intimacy, a shared space where your souls danced in harmony, entwined by a love that had a light inside it surrounded by a dark shadow protecting it.  As the kiss came to an end, Wednesday felt a sense of clarity settle over her. This was a new beginning, a fresh commitment to her love for you, a love that she knew she would share with you in life... and in death. 

One month turned into One year.

"IF YOU EVEN ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT OF CONJURING ANOTHER PATHETIC PRANK LIKE THAT WRETCHED DISPLAY YOU UNLEASHED LAST YEAR, I SHALL TAKE GREAT PLEASURE IN PEELING YOUR FLESH FROM YOUR BONES," Wednesday's voice carried a chilling cadence, her words laced with a macabre promise that sent shivers down the spines of Lucas and his hapless companions. She still feels guilty for not going with you to last year's Raven dance which you were looking forward to, however, she also was quite relieved as she knew how badly you might've reacted to the pathetic prank Lucas and his friends pulled. But this time, since she has plans to ask you to the dance, she had to make sure they won't even think of doing anything like that again. Not just them, anyone. She pretty much sent a silent threat to everyone who witnessed her berating Lucas and his friends. Of course, her strategy was precise, her execution meticulous. Dispatching Enid as her proxy, she ensured you would remain blissfully unaware, a calculated move in her symphony of protection and intention. "Would you mind if I sit here?" She asked your resting figure as always. "Only if you ask me a question about a certain dance," you responded with a mischievous glint in your eyes, playfully challenging her. Wednesday took the sit beside you, under your maple tree, which had grown bigger than before, blossoming with scarlet red leaves. Her dark eyes remained fixed on yours as she gathered her courage to speak, her voice a blend of vulnerability and determination.  "Would you do me the honor of being my partner at the upcoming Raven dance?" A playful smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you couldn't help but tease,  "Ah, but there might be some formidable competition." A flicker of amusement danced in Wednesday's eyes as she responded, "It seems my collection of knives will finally see some action after quite a hiatus." A genuine laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with the rustling of the leaves overhead.  "Yet how can these contenders hope to match someone who resides leagues above them?" You said. "And who might that exceptional individual be?" Wednesday decided to indulge in your playful banter. "A certain Raven who holds the key to my heart with her smile." You said.

"Would you mind if I held your hand in there?" The question slipped from your lips with a delicate blend of hope and trepidation, your heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The party hall's entrance loomed before you, a gateway to an unfamiliar world. "I've.. never been to any parties before. I feel so nervous in crowds of unknown people." You confessed. Wednesday's expression softened as her hands met yours. "I am pretty sure if there's anyone succumbing to unease, it's the unsuspecting souls on the inside. They'll find themselves awestruck by your radiance, a brilliance that effortlessly outshines the mundane. It's a spectacle they won't be prepared for. And as for your answer, I don't want to hold your hand, I NEED to hold your hand, my desire to grasp your hand is not a mere whim; it's an imperative. A declaration to the world, a proclamation of possession. I want them to see that you belong to me, and me alone." She smiled. And that was enough to let your nervousness go away, soothing the tumultuous waters of your apprehension. Once again, you found solace in her unwavering presence, a light in her darkness, a radiant beacon cutting through the obscurity of your doubts. With her by your side, you knew that life's challenges could be confronted and conquered, one step at a time.

"One day at a time." She reminded you again.

"One day at a time is all we've got." You answered smiling.

With a graceful gesture, Wednesday extended her hand toward you, her pale fingers delicate against the backdrop of darkness. 

"Would you honor me by giving me this dance?" She said. 

You took a step forward, your fingers intertwining with hers, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The dance floor became a universe unto itself, a realm where only your presence and hers held significance, cocooned in a moment of shared intimacy.

Come to me now And lay your hands over me

As you moved together, the dance became a slow, intimate conversation, an unspoken exchange of feelings and emotions that words could never capture. 

Even if it's a lie Say it will be alright And I shall believe

Wednesday's gaze held a depth that stirred something within you, her usually guarded eyes revealing a vulnerability that resonated deeply. The realization of how much she yearned for your presence, for your companionship, was poignantly evident in the earnestness of her eyes. It was a silent plea, an unspoken confession.

I'm broken in two And I know you're on to me That I only come home When I'm so all alone But I do believe

Her presence was both comforting and electrifying, and you found yourself drawn into the dance with an innate sense of belonging. The world outside the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless embrace.

That not everything is gonna be the way You think it ought to be

You found yourself clinging desperately to this moment, your heart fiercely determined to seize every precious second shared with Wednesday. The fear of losing her gripped you like a vice, urging you to hold onto her presence as tightly as you could. In the midst of the dance, there was an unspoken understanding that time was fleeting, and the fragility of the connection you shared was a reality that couldn't be ignored.

It seems like every time I try to make it right It all comes down on me

Then again, Wednesday's gaze gave you hope, Amidst your worries and doubts, her gaze became an anchor, grounding you to the promise of a lasting bond. Her unspoken commitment encouraged you to have faith in the connection you shared, dispelling any lingering doubts.

Please say honestly you won't give up on me And I shall believe

Wednesday felt so lost, so hypnotized by your eyes, the sensation of your fingers intertwining sent a thrill of electricity through her. The world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the two of you in a slow, entrancing dance.

Open the door And show me your face tonight

 With every turn and sway, she allowed her guard to slip, revealing the vulnerable core that lay beneath her stoic exterior. But she knows, it's all worth it, as long as you are glued to her. This gave you enough reason to believe. As your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between you, stronger than any words or uncertainties.

I know it's true No one heals me like you And you hold the key

Her gaze remained fixed on you, a mixture of intensity and vulnerability that left you breathless. Her touch was gentle, her hand resting against your shoulder with a tenderness that belied her reputation. 

Never again Would I turn away from you

Never, she would turn away from the feelings she holds for you again, She is ready to confront the emotions that have long been concealed within the shadows of her heart. You made her ready.

I'm so heavy tonight But your love is alright And I do believe

She can see the fear of the uncertain future in your eyes, she hated to admit it, but even she was afraid of that. 

That not everything is gonna be the way You think it ought to be

There might be something worse awaiting you and her in the future. Something that might hurt you...

It seems like every time I try to make it right It all comes down on me

But Wednesday knows she will protect you, She has already committed her life and soul to your protection. As she grasped your hand and guided you through the dance's deliberate pace, just like she would do in every step of your life, her eyes remained fixated on yours, she can see the unspoken vow being communicated, a plea being exchanged. 

Please say honestly You won't give up on me

There was a sense of shared vulnerability, a willingness to confront the challenges together. As long as you are with her, she can hope, you can hope. Despite the unpredictability of life, despite the challenges and doubts, both Wednesday and you were choosing to believe.

And I shall believe

One year turned into two,

John came back, He did it, he killed every single one of the golden order, You could live safely now, with no threats, no danger to your life. Yet both he and Wednesday knew you had the right to know, they were afraid that you would break down after knowing there is no cure to this curse of yours, they were afraid they would lose you to grief and sorrow again. As John and Wednesday sat you down to convey this bittersweet truth, their eyes clouded with apprehension, your response was surprising. Instead of breaking down, you bore the weight of the revelation with a resilience that left them speechless. It was as though you had already walked the path of acceptance long before they even laid out the truth before you. Wednesday watched you with a mixture of awe and concern, her heart aching for the strength you displayed. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of years of shared experiences and unspoken support, hugging him dearly. Tears glistened in John's eyes as he held you close, his embrace a testament to the depth of his love and his unyielding determination to protect you.  But it was your next words that reverberated through the room, echoing in the hearts of those present. "I know you tried. I know you already knew that there was no cure. Yet you didn't give up. I've already accepted that there is no cure for me. I've already accepted that my time is limited." Your voice carried a calm resignation, a sense of serenity that belied the gravity of your revelation. Wednesday's heart clenched as she absorbed your words, a mixture of admiration and anguish swirling within her. It was a bittersweet truth – your acceptance was a testament to your strength, but it also hinted at the fragility of the time you had left. "Don't go again, please," you implored, your grip on John's shirt tightening as though he were your lifeline. Wednesday's heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice, at the raw fear of losing yet another person you held dear. Your plea echoed in the room, a testament to the depth of your emotions and your desire to hold onto the few constants in your life. But then, you continued your words a soothing balm for her conflicted heart. "I've accepted this already. You don't have to keep searching. You've already kept your promise, John. You are my cure." you pleaded. It took all of Wednesday's strength to contain the tears welling up in her eyes, her emotions a turbulent sea within her chest. Your acceptance, your gratitude, and your plea resonated with a melody that seemed to strike the deepest chords within her. It was a reminder of the stakes, the fragility of time, and the love that bloomed amidst the darkness. A sigh escaped Wednesday's lips, carrying with it a mix of emotions that were as complex and intricate as the person before her. The weight of her feelings was a burden she was willing to bear, for you had become the beacon of light that had illuminated the darkness of her existence. In the silence that followed, as you and your brother shared a moment of understanding and connection, Wednesday felt an unspoken promise take root within her heart. She would be there, by your side, through every moment that remained. The love she held for you, unconventional and profound, was a force that could not be diminished by time or circumstance.

"I am not going away anymore." Your brother promised you,

So did Wednesday.

Two turned into three,

Your affinity for the natural world had always been apparent. The way you found solace in the embrace of flowers and trees was a testament to your connection with the living, breathing entities that adorned the world around you. It was no surprise that you aspired to become a florist, a guardian of nature's beauty, using your skill to heal even the most ailing of plants. That's how you were handed a pot of a small plant that seem to be sick by Wednesday, "Found it on the street. I wanted to save it," she said, her voice carrying an unusual softness. You smiled, even though it was very un-Wednesday-like, but you thought nothing of it. As you placed the potted plant on a nearby table to examine it, you noticed signs of distress – the leaves were wilting, and the soil seemed to be in poor condition. A deeper instinct guided your hands, and you carefully removed the plant from its pot to inspect its roots. Your suspicions were confirmed – root rot had taken hold, threatening the plant's very survival. As you examined the roots within the soil, something unexpected caught your attention – a glint of metal, a spark amidst the decaying roots. You carefully removed it from the roots, it was a ring. You put the plant down and turned back to Wednesday, "Wednesday why there is a.." Wednesday didn't let you finish. "I have a problem, You see... I am not sick of you, I am honestly pretty much in love with you, hopelessly, helplessly." Your heart swelled at her admission, the authenticity of her emotions washing over you in waves. It was a confession that laid bare her heart, her fears, and her desires.  "I don't know how much time we have left," she continued, her voice a blend of raw honesty and determination. "But whatever time it is, I want to spend it with you. Having you by my side is enough for me, if that's enough for you."  In that moment, words seemed inadequate, insufficient to convey the maelstrom of emotions that surged within you. With unshed tears in your eyes, you found yourself drawn to her, your heart guiding your actions. And so, with a tenderness that spoke of all the love you held for her, you leaned in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, delicate kiss.

Four, five, six, seven years have passed, One day became seven years.

Seven years etched their stories into the tapestry of your shared existence, a life painted with hues of love, fortitude, and a quiet understanding that bound you and Wednesday together in an unbreakable bond. The roots of your relationship grew deeper, intertwined with the passage of time, weathering storms and blooming with the promise of a shared future. 

Through the ebb and flow of life, your relationship evolved into a haven of comfort, a refuge against the chaos of the world. From the cozy apartment that you and Wednesday called home, to the shared moments of laughter over breakfast and the whispered secrets exchanged beneath the moonlit sky, your love story unfolded with a quiet intensity.

Wednesday of course continued her writing profession, the darkness that once cloaked her was now transformed into words that resonated with readers, her narratives a mirror to her journey of self-acceptance and growth. While Wednesday crafted tales of introspection and mystery, you nurtured your love for nature into a flourishing career. Your flower shop, a sanctuary of vibrant colours and delicate fragrances, stood as a testament to your nurturing spirit. Each bloom found its place under your care, blossoming into radiant displays that reflected your deep connection with life.

As the sun cast its golden hues across the horizon, you found Wednesday in the living room, engrossed in one of her journals. You approached her, your smile playful. "What's the enigmatic Miss Addams writing about today?" Wednesday's lips quirked up in a faint smile. "Jotting down observations on the human propensity for chaos." You chuckled, taking a seat beside her. "Ah, yes. Chaos seems to be a common theme in our lives." Her gaze softened as she closed the journal. "But amidst the chaos, there is a solace I find because of someone." "And who might that be?" You asked knowing the answer, "A certain florist." She smirked.

In your flower shop, Wednesday observed you arranging a vibrant bouquet with an air of fascination. "You have a remarkable affinity for breathing life into these blooms." You grinned, placing the finished bouquet in a vase. "Well, I did promise to bring life to anything that needs it." Wednesday's eyebrow arched, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Even to a walking corpse like me?" You turned to her, your eyes dancing with affection. "Especially to you." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the petals. "Then I suppose I am in good hands."

A rainy afternoon found you and Wednesday huddled by the window, sipping tea and watching the droplets dance against the glass. The pitter-patter of raindrops created a soothing backdrop to your quiet conversation. "I always found solace in the rain," you mused, your gaze fixed on the world outside. Wednesday's eyes gleamed with a hidden emotion. "Rain has a way of cleansing the world, washing away the dirt and revealing the hidden truths." You turned to her, captivated by the intensity in her gaze. "What hidden truths have you discovered?" Her lips curled into a half-smile. "That even amidst darkness, there's beauty to be found. Just like in you." Wednesday cringed at her own words but it was worth the smile on your lips, Trying to avoid becoming her mother, she ended up like her father. As you both wandered through a local art gallery, Wednesday's eyes fixated on a particularly macabre painting. She turned to you with a small smirk, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.  "I think this one would look splendid in our living room, don't you agree?" You chuckled, knowing her affinity for the morbid.  "You really have a way of finding the most unique pieces, Wednesday. I'm sure it'll add quite the atmosphere to our home." She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Atmosphere? Is that your polite way of saying 'spooky'?" You laughed, your fingers finding hers as you leaned in.  "Well, I've learned to appreciate your unique taste, and I do love how it reflects your personality." She smirked, her lips brushing against yours.  "Just don't be surprised if we start getting visits from ghosts."

A chilly winter morning, you both found yourselves sipping hot cocoa by the window, watching the snowflakes fall. Wednesday's fingers traced delicate patterns on the rim of her mug, her eyes distant. "You seem lost in thought," you observed, concern lacing your voice. She turned to you, her gaze softening. "I was just thinking about how different my life has become with you in it. You've brought warmth to my world, more than I ever thought possible." You reached over to grasp her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And you've shown me a depth of love and understanding I never knew existed. We've come a long way, Wednesday." She smiled, her fingers interlocking with yours. "Indeed, we have. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it."

However within all those warm moments, Some cold ones lingered. Cold ones that increased rapidly as time went on. Your tormented soul awoke you with a gasp, a lingering nightmare's grasp refusing to let go. Almost as if sensing your distress, Wednesday's arms enveloped you in an instant, her touch a lifeline in the abyss of your fear. Her voice, a soft, soothing melody, broke through the darkness. "Hey, it's okay," she whispered, her words a tender caress against your tumultuous emotions. "You're safe, I'm here." Tears swelled in your eyes, a testament to the terror you had just experienced. You clung to her as if she were the anchor holding you against the storm, your body trembling against the remnants of the night's horrors. Your voice trembled as you tried to put words to the maelstrom within you. "I can't… I can't control it. She's getting stronger." Wednesday's hold on you tightened, her grip a symbol of unwavering need for you in her life. Her voice, soft but resolute, cut through the darkness that threatened to engulf you both. "We'll face this together, just like we always have."

Days turned into weeks, and the heaviness of your curse only grew. It wasn't long before another unsettling incident unfolded, leaving Wednesday's heart racing with worry. She entered the house, finding the door already ajar – a sight that struck fear into her heart. "Y/n?" Her voice quivered with urgency as she called out, dread coiling in her chest when there was no response. She hurried to the bedroom, her heart pounding like a drum. The sight that greeted her was enough to send a shiver down her spine – the bathroom door stood wide open, and there you were, standing frozen in front of the mirror. "Y/n!" She called you again, but only if she knew what you were seeing in the mirror. Malenia.

"Y/n!!" Her voice seemed to jolt you from the grip of that sinister trance, and you collapsed to your knees. The world around you refocused, but the horrors of what you had seen in the mirror still lingered. Wednesday was there, her arms wrapping around you protectively, her presence offering solace amidst the chaos. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice a gentle balm against your shattered nerves. "I am here. She won't take you. I won't let her take you." Your heartache poured out in sobs, the fear, and the darkness that threatened to consume you finally finding release. Wednesday held you close, her words and touch a lifeline that pulled you back from the brink. The pain in her voice, the unyielding determination to protect you, it all echoed the depth of her love. "We'll fight this together, Y/n," she whispered against your hair, her vow a testament to the unbreakable bond that had sustained you through every trial.

"Y/n please stop! It's me, your love, Wednesday." Wednesday screamed, begging you to stop, but you didn't, flying high with your delicate wings, letting the Goddess of Rot control your body fully, you take over the sky once again with your Scarlet flower of Aeonia. Ready to take over this world by your Scarlet rot. Then, like a comet hurtling toward its destination, you descended, a blur of crimson and despair, you went down on her, you went down on your love Wednesday. With a sudden jolt, you awoke from the nightmare that had ensnared your mind. Your breathing was ragged, and your eyes darted around the room, trying to discern reality from the phantasmagoric images that had haunted your sleep. Beside you Wednesday slept peacefully, she always had slept peacefully by your side. As your gaze settled on your own hands, you saw the faint traces of Scarlet roots emerging, tendrils of your curse that nearly brushed Wednesday's arm. The realization hit you like a lightning bolt – you had come dangerously close to repeating the tragic fate of your mother, infecting someone you loved with the rot that dwelled within you.

One day at a time, Wednesday used to say.

No...

You won't risk the most important thing, the most important person in your life, not for one more day.

As the first rays of sunlight painted the room with warmth, Wednesday stirred from her sleep, her eyes searching for you on the bed. Confusion quickly transformed into worry as she realized you were nowhere to be found. Her heart raced, fear clawing at her as she called your name, her voice echoing in the emptiness. Her eyes fell upon a letter resting on your pillow, a silent messenger that held the truth she wasn't yet ready to face. Trembling fingers reached for the paper, her heart pounding in anticipation and dread. With each word she read, her world crumbled further, the weight of your decision pressing heavily upon her chest.

And so, she found herself retracing the steps that had led to this moment. The place where it had all begun – the maple tree, the witness to your first meeting, now a sentinel to your final act. The sight that met her eyes tore at her heart – there you lay, surrounded by delicate petals, an ethereal contrast to the tragedy that had unfolded. "Would you mind if I sit here?" The words escaped her lips, carrying a tremor of sorrow. Her voice quivered as she spoke, the depths of her grief threatening to consume her.  Oh, what Wednesday wouldn't give to see you smile and look up to her, accepting her offer, taking her hands. She settled beside you, putting her head on your shoulder, clutching the letter in her hands, The promise you had made years ago echoed in her mind, its significance now clearer than ever.  "Promise me that you will remember me as much as you can."  In that moment, Wednesday understood the weight of your plea, the plea that had driven you to make the ultimate sacrifice for her sake.

As tears blurred her vision, she leaned into you, her heart heavy with the realization that she would have to carry on without you by her side. The mornings would be colder, the talks quieter, the smiles and kisses a distant memory. But she clung to your promise, the symbol of your love, believing that one day, beneath its embrace, she would be reunited with the soul that had captured her heart so completely.

"My beloved Wednesday, I love you with all my heart and soul and I hope you can understand my decision.

Our love story has been unconventional, marked by darkness and curses, yet you have been the beacon of light that guided me through the shadows. From the moment our paths crossed, I felt a connection that transcended the boundaries of life and death. You became my sanctuary, my home, and my reason to endure the trials that fate hurled our way.

The years we spent together have been a tapestry woven with laughter, warmth, and shared dreams. Your presence has been the salve to my wounds, the answer to my silent prayers. Every touch, every smile, and every stolen moment etched into my memory like precious jewels. Even as the darkness within me grew, your love remained unwavering, a steadfast pillar that held me upright when I faltered.

But I can no longer ignore the truth that has become painfully evident – the curse, the rot, it has taken a stronger hold on me. I've seen glimpses of a future I cannot bear to subject you to, a future where the darkness consumes me completely. I refuse to let that happen. Our love is too pure, too precious, to be tainted by the curse that plagues me. You are too pure to be tainted by my curse.

I want you to find solace in the knowledge that my decision is not born out of despair, but out of love. Love for you, for us, for the future we could have had. It's a choice I make willingly, as the only way to protect you from the grip of this curse. I need you to remember the promise you made me under our tree, our beautiful scarlet red maple tree that has borne witness to our love... where you can find me...

Please don't grieve for me, my love. Instead, find happiness in the memories we've created, in the love we've shared. You deserve nothing less than a life filled with joy and love and maybe some horror too.

As the sun sets on my time in this world, know that I carry your love with me into the next. I've seen that our souls are bound by a love that transcends even death, and I will be watching over you, cheering you on from beyond the veil.

Thank you, Wednesday Addams, for being my love, my anchor, my haven, my everything. You've given me a lifetime of love in the few years we've had, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Remember me till the day we will meet again my beloved woe.

With all the love my heart can hold,

Y/n" Author here, This is my last fanfiction ever, I have to stop writing because I have some personal issues going on, That's why I poured my heart into it, I would really appreciate if you guys tell me how much you liked it, It's been an amazing journey with you all- Love , Celine. PART 11 EPILOGUE: Reunited With Woe. The lines used on the Raven dance were from Sheryl Crow's I Shall Believe song. The inspiration behind this ending was, some you might have already guessed it, "The Haunting of Bly Manor" ending.