#i swear if anyone dies i'm gonna sob

[annwayne]

no but when Fig started crying after thinking her mom was gonna die before she got a chance to apologize to her??? and then her mom fucking swan dives onto her griffin's back and takes off to find the missing girls???? I'm sobbinggggg

[inksoakedparchment]

Shining for you

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: sad x fluff

trope: lovers to soulmates

word cunt: 845

tw: death mentioned, suicide, (your) tears, swearing, my english

summary: you were on a mission with the team, but one of the Hydra’s men shot you. you didn’t make it and it’s your death’s one year anniversary, oh and bucky was your boyfriend…

a/n: i had a bad day, i cried, so… i’m trying to make you cry, dear reader

songs: November Rain by Guns n’ Roses, Knockin’ on heaven’s door by Guns n’ Roses

Bucky makes his way to your grave with a bouquet of white lilies and red roses. It’s the first anniversary of your death and he still loves you, like you didn’t even die one year ago. At the beginning, he sat every day in front of your grave, but in the past half a year it became once a week. You’ve always watched him and it feels heartbreaking, that you can’t touch him or at least talk with him.

“Hey, doll,” he starts “I still miss you. It’s like I lost my other half, feels like my soul died with you that day. The minute your heart stopped beating. The sparkle in your eyes, your loud laughter, your smile, I can only see and hear it in the videos and in the photos I took of you. I took of us. If you hear me, just give me a sign,” his voice starts shaking, and his eyes become teary.

You sit down next to him and he turns his head in your direction like he can feel your presence.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly and you put your hand on his, the tears burst out of him. “I feel you,” he cries.

“I miss you too, my beloved soldier,” you say softly. He freezes. He hears you as whispered words.

“Doll, I hear you,” he looks directly into your eyes, despite the fact he can’t see you. You feel surprised because he’s never heard you before when you talked to him.

“I love you, Bucky. I always will,” you say while you try to swallow the lump.

“I love you too, doll. More than you can imagine. You healed my broken heart, then it’s torn apart again. You were my light in the darkness. And you’re still that. Every time I tell the stars about you, I feel like I’m knockin‘ on heaven’s door. I don’t know how I can manage this without you,” he sobs, it makes you cry too.

“Love, a whole life is in front of you and I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness and a family. You can have it without me too, we will meet when your time is up,” you say while the tears run down your cheek.

“I don’t wanna, Y/N. I wanted you to be the mother of my children. I wanted you to be my wife. I still want it. I can’t imagine it with anyone else,” he shakes his head.

“I’m gonna watch you, okay? At least try to be happier,” you say softly and lean your head on his shoulder.

“I feel you. I feel your head on my shoulder, it kills me that I can't touch you, doll. I miss you,” he sobs.

“I miss you too. I love you so much, try to be at least fine, okay? I need to see your smile. I didn’t see it this year,” you state sadly.

“I’ll try. Whenever I look at the sky I'm going to see you in the stars. I’m going to smile at you,” he says softly as he looks up at the sky.

“I’m going to shine for you,” you say with a soft smile. It’s obvious he’s going to tell you something now.

“On that cold November day, when you left the world behind, I stood in the rain. I know how much you loved it. I stood in the cold November rain for you. It felt like you were caressing my face through the raindrops,” he swallows.

“I love you,” I say and I look at his clock. It’s changing and it shows midnight.

“I love you too,” he says, his shoulders tensing. “Doll?” he quickly turns his head where I still sit. “I don’t feel you,” his voice cracks.

He looks at his watch and he sees your death’s anniversary day ended and the realisation hits him. He can only hear and feel me on the day you died. Once a year. He breaks down.

two months later

He couldn’t take the emptiness anymore he felt without you. He ended his life when you watched the team eating dinner. He appears next to you.

“I love you,” he whispers and looks at you. You rapidly turn your head in his direction and your lips part away. “I know you’re disappointed in me, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. Forgive me, Y/N,” he says and moves closer to you, slowly touching you. His face lights up when he feels your skin under his touch. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“You’re so stupid,” you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re so stupid, I love you,” you whisper in his chest.

“I missed this, doll. I missed you,” he gently pulls away and kisses you deeply.

You feel happiness and also sadness at the same time. You’re happy because he’s with you, but sad because the team lost him too. It’s gonna cause pain for them.

You’re a whole now. Not just two halves in different worlds. You both just become a whole again.

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @yourwifewatersflowerss

[ax-y10]

✮ knock ✮

in which- you have a fear of showing too much of your own skin due to past dreams and coincidences, but wilbur is there to help.

chapter info- mentions of private areas, mentions of fears, descriptions of nudity, descriptions of past situations, just a vent fic essentially

a/n- i made this as a sort of vent/coping mechanism because i needed to get this out somewhere to make myself feel better so here you go

pronouns- none (you/yours)

masterlist-

you're sat in your boyfriend's bedroom, a frown present on your face and hot tears running down your face. maybe this wasn't worth getting so worked up about but it reminded you too much of years ago.

when you were in grade five, you'd had a dream where you were naked at school, beginning your fear of being judged by everyone. a year later in grade six, you had another dream about being naked at school, and that heightened your fear, if not hatched your fear of showing skin.

to make things worse, you've had multiple occasions where someone you know, whether it be family or close friends, has walked in on you changing, ultimately making your fear of showing skin ten times worse.

you'd swear that you would rather die than show skin to anyone in close relation to you. if you had to do one thing before you died, showing skin was the last on that list. it was your last resort, barely that. showing skin was never an option for you.

you'd been pressured by beauty standards, peer pressure, and wanting to seem more confident that once you did finally show a tiny bit of skin, it all went haywire, and every girl you walked past gave you weird stares or even just laughed at you as you walked past. you were never and never will be known for showing skin. you'll always be known as the girl who has self-esteem issues, hates showing skin. the amount of times you've been called a pick-me for the way you dress has you fuming at the statement.

and now, your boyfriend accidentally walking in on you showering has sent you back into a horrible spiral of worries and concerns and fears, breaking down into hysterics on his bed.

did wilbur know you were sobbing in his bedroom? no. he was in the kitchen cooking dinner for you both. were you desperately trying to calm yourself down without wilbur's help? yes, and it sure as hell wouldn't work with him not there.

"darling?" his voice from the other side of the door startled you enough to break you out of whatever bad thoughts were strangling your head.

"i have dinner," he'd state, before the handle of the door slowly starts turning.

"no! not yet. give me a second!" you yelled from his bed, scurrying into his bathroom and throwing on one of his sweaters he'd left in there for you.

it was silent. at least on the outside of his room. inside however? your mental rambling had started back up again and was attacking you.

a minute passed. two minutes passed. three minutes passed. five minutes passe-

"sweetheart, i'm gonna come in. something's wrong,"

his large figure in the doorway was inching it's way towards you, causing you to move back with each of his steps.

"oh, my love, what's wrong?" fuck. he'd caught on.

you were silent. all your communication skills were out the window.

"c'mere" his voice soft, calm, and collected rang through your ears.

and before you could blink, your head was nuzzled in his neck, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you clung to him, you legs bent uncomfortably underneath you, and your tears soaking into his shoulder.

he was happy to stay there all night if you needed, happy to let you cry it out, happy to listen, happy to talk. as long as you were okay.

"knock before you walk into the bathroom if i'm in there, please?"

"no problem, darling. have some pasta and rest easy and you can talk about it more if needed when you wake up, alright?" he paused, took a deep breath, and continued., "i'm right here, always. i'll stay with you tonight, okay? i love you,"

and all you can remember was the warmth of his arms before you fell asleep.

[layuhsblog]

Keep Calm Pt2 Alt ending| Gojo X Reader

(warnings: pregnancy, slight mention of abortion, mentions panic attack (not really), crying, gets better at the end i swear, gojo not a dick here don't worry)

(this wont be the same as pt2 angst ending, you can skip pt2 if you want but read part 1 before this.)

At 27 you were pathetic- unplanned pregnancy, boyfriend who's still into his fuckin ex apparently and no one to share your sorrow with.

You loved him too much to keep this from him. Why wait another day? You never go to bed angry, remember?

With a sigh you opened your phone, it was currently 2am. Multiple missed calls and texts from Satoru. Your thumb hovered over the call option. You bit your lip out of nervousness.

'What if he doesn't want the baby? He has too many responsibilities...I cannot afford to have this baby alone...Focus ___, he needs to know this. Toughen up. You'll figure it out.'

You pressed the button and the line connected within the first few rings.

"Hello?" It had only been a couple of hours but how your heart ached to hear his voice. You flinched at his voice, hoarse, like he had been crying for hours.

"S-satoru, we need to talk. It's important, come over whenever you can..?" Your nervousness made it seem like a question.

"Just stay up baby, I'm on the way. We'll clear it all out okay. Everything's gonna be okay." You didn't know if he was comforting you or himself, but you believed him.

-

In a couple of minutes, you heard your passcode beep, indicating that Gojo was infact there. You started hearing ringing in your ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You felt like you could faint. In those minutes, everything that has happened and could go wrong started flashing in your mind. Somehow you gathered the energy to get up despite your shaky legs and go to the living room. There he was, his eyes red and puffy. He looks so tired.

"I-I'm really sorry baby, I didnt mean that. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. I'll do anything for you." He begged. What a sight to see, the strongest, just crumbling in your arms. Holding your hands for his dear life as more tears appeared from the corners of his already puffed up eyes.

You wanted to hug him and sob in his arms. But first there was something you needed to tell him,

"Satoru, I'm...pregnant."

He felt as if time had stopped. He didn't know how to react. He thought back to his students- Megumi, Itadori and Nobara. They were like his kids. He really wanted to be a father. He cannot afford to become one..can he? For once can't he be selfish? All his life he was in the eyes of other people. Maybe just once, he could do something he wished to do. Have a family with you. Get married. Stay with you forever.

He'd never been so conflicted, having everything already decided for him since birth. Having so many responsibilities he never asked for. This was one, he really really wanted to have. Then came the depressing thoughts, what if he died on the field. How would you live without him, without a partner to rely on? His child, growing up without a father. What would happen if he quit? Would anyone be able to deal with Sukuna? What if the elders decide on preponing Yuuji's execution? What if more people died because of him?

Then the thoughts went to his childhood, his student days, his dear friend- how much he would have loved to be an uncle. How due to the cruelties and injustice in the world, he had lost his path, how his best friend had to be killed by his own hands...

-

As if he read your mind, he blinked out of his racing thoughts. and quickly engulfed you in a hug and held you tightly. He gave your forehead a little kiss and swayed you from side to side,

You waited for him to react, but all he did was stare blankly at you. Your heart dropped.

You understood to an extent why he's reacting the way he is, but you hoped he'd atleast be supportive and comforting to you cus of how scared you felt right now.

"I promised I'll do anything for you, you name it baby and I'll do it. Whether you want me to quit or not, be a father or not, I'll be a partner first. Make it up to you. Just please, take me back and we'll figure it out. I'll do everything to support you, you're so brave. You must be so alone and scared when you found out, I-I'm so fuckin sorry love. Y-you're all that matters. I'd give up forever to hold you. I just want you to know, I am." he whispered softly next to you, holding you like you'll break anytime. You sobbed into his chest, finally letting it all out.

You really desperately needed to hear that. You were so grateful right now. Every harsh thing he said now forgotten, you just wanted him.

With him, all your problems seemed so small. You were lucky your baby was going to have a father who was ready to give it all up for them.

-

But.. you knew you wouldn't ask him of that unless he wished to do so himself. After all, he had his other kids to look after. He wasn't going to abandon anyone. He had promised it to himself and you weren't gonna take it away from him. They'd be amazing siblings anyway. You were gonna figure it out together, you always have.

But for now, you cherished the moment with all your heart. You, Toru and the baby growing inside you, nothing else mattered anymore.

At 28, you had everything you wanted- a happy married life with the strongest sorcerer, three students who would kill for your son, and ofcourse- your son, Geto, who's name was unanimously chosen to pay respect to his bestfriend.

[sunnychuuya]

Cutely sobs knowing om nearing the end of sally face

I finished it.

Hey so guess who's looking up a toturoail

Whys the screen so fuckn dark

Me when I forget my lefts and rights do I start going never eat soggy waffles

I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I DID THAT LAST NIGHT

"we are the shadows of a sleepless dream" fucking banger line??

I cannor handle seeing Diane rn I'm gonna sob

H9LY SHIT SUCH COOL ARTSTYLE

Guys I don't actually think I like the cult I kinda died cuz of them !!

having thr t

Guys this is not girlpop

ash wt Oh yirl WHAT THE FHELL DONT DOT AHT

GUYS I JUST TOLD MT FRIEND THIS DOESNT HAVE GRAPHIC SEWERSLIDE FUCK

GUYS WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED

ARE WE JUST GONNA FUCKING

BRUSH PAST THAT?!

WHAT THE FUCK

THE FUCK FUCK THE FUCK SHIT?!

-"how many loved ones will you kill to save the world. What will be Left worth saving" crying sobbing screaming throwing up

Also am I hallucinating or was that not grammatically correct

No it was

It just doesn't sound like it

"They deserve happiness after all the shit they've been through" me when the entirety of this fucking game

"Do you.. do you think anyone could ever love me like they love each other?" I'm gonna bawl my fucking eyes out sal you're amazign

STOP.

THIS IS NOT FAIR.

NOT THE MEMEORY COMING FROM THE FUCKING BOTTLW

THTA WAS LIKE THE WORST LARRY COULDVE DONE IT TOO

God

Fucking damnit

Larry was sposed to move in with them.. they were sposed to be happy.. nghehhe

NOT THE FUCKING CORPSES

SHIT

QHY

Hmm. Another textbook case of: I hate the characyer until they fucking die tragically

Sal no we're not defending her she still kinda ducked

WHAT THE FUCK

HAH?!

Woah ghsotie arm

Cofnused as shit ngl and this music is terrfyding

oh no! Why is everyone gone!

Giving "why is boss music playing" vibes

UHH GUYS FUCKKKK

SHIT THIS FAME COLLECTING ART STYLES LIKE POKEMON

stop. I love this. So cool.

Yea I don't quite like that. Kinda uhh sus thats like the things that humans grow in in movies

cutely Google safe combination

FUCKKK BRO THE REASON KENNY SHOT SAL IS BC OF THE PROPHECY THING... DAMN GOOD THING HE SUCKS AT SHOOTIJG PPL TOO (the like 300 ppl who died:)

Wait what Jim's latter

JumPSACRW

Guys! Thats so not girlypop!

What rhe fuck!

"You killed them" NO SHIT?!

Me after game over immesirlat

Oh wow thats so cute murder great

CHAT MY CONTEOLLERA DYOPEED AORKING HELPPPPP

OH KENNWTH WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT HOE WHYXDID YOU GOOPIE

MA BOY LARRY WHY U LOOK LIKE THAT 😭 💀

guys oop I apparently missed the thing where u see sal get shot lmao

Its fine I already knew what happened

I just looked it up and what the florp bro

chat I hate this like they all die and they can't even live happily ever after in the afterlife its just not fair.

YAYAYYAYA GHODT GUITAR

Hol up- lemme clean my glasses for this.

"eat mt ass, you red eyed birch!" ILY larry

TRAVIS LWTS FUCKING GO

YES

UES

YES

FUCK

LETS FUCKING GooooOOOOOOOO

WAIT SHIT DID JE JSUT DIE 💀

...

Fuck.

ITS NOR WORKFING

Yeah okay I knew it wouldn't be thst easy but. One can hope.

AHHHHH PIXEL SAL

Yeee guitar blasts

Pew

Pew

FUCK YOU CANT GO FROM SILLY PIXEL SAL TO

EVERYONE WE LOVE IS DEAD BRUTALLY

I diedieidid

Chat have we considered I suck at video games

I just died 3 tomes in a row

fifth death (end me)

I DIDING IT

Oh fuk pixem sal

WHY IS MY ARM GOING NUMB

SAL UR SPOSED TO POSSES ASH NOT ME

NOT THE GREATEST TIME LOWKEY TRYNA PLAY THE GAME

Ooh chairs

Oh duck that scared me

God damnit Terrence

SHUT UP THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING COOL

When I started playing sally face, would I ever have thought I would be whisper screaming "VOMIT YOUR BALLS TERRENCE!" at 12 37 am, he'll fucking no. But it happened.

This is why I am unloved.

What da fuck

Polyrgorns

THE FUCKING MICKEY MOUSE

GLITCHY SAL

Uhh I don't like how the teeth skin is closing in

UNBELEIVILBLY HYPE

Sal really said with the power of music and friendship

wdym it don't feel like over

LARRY DOUBLED DIED WHAY THE FUCK

"Maybe we see him again someday. On the other side of oblivion. If there is such a place." then it just fades out. This game is absolutely amazing.

I love it but it also lowkey felt so incomplete

Like

Idk the ending felt a little fast.

like very satisfying but it felt rlly fast.

But also sf2 is a thing in progress I know

@mypinterestgotbannedsoimherenow

[lookismaddict]

Lookism Chapter 441 Memes/Thoughts I Have:

(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made. The sole purpose of this is to provide summaries/reviews for each chapter so if you don’t want to see the rest of it, then just keep scrolling. It’s your choice.)

I really said that I was going to work on this chapter review but I didn't do it until a few days after the chapter has been posted online... Woops, my bad. (My posts will be queued for now, so I didn't post this CURRENTLY. Sorry in advance if I randomly post at around 4 in the morning or something.) Most of you guys probably already saw this, but you know what? Time to bring dinner onto the table! 🍲

H U H ? 👁👁

UMMMM… HELLO??? I stg, if he's referring to Goo... 😭 But oh man, if he were to replace Goo, I wonder how Gun is going to react. And I already heard ab the rumors going around, regarding to what PTJ mentioned before. Even the thing about someone's death, and whatnot. Yes, I know man. 💀 But in all honesty, this Charles Choi arc though... I like it so far. Minus... the death and Charles Choi himself because it's a catalyst for an event that'll happen in the future. Also, yes Charles, you piece of shit. Jichang won't ever think of joining you lol. Even if he agreed, what is there to benefit if he were to side with you? 😀

I don't think anyone has commented on what Charles Choi said about Jichang being a strategist, and he's right about that. Unlike many fighters, I noticed how Jichang is very meticulous when it comes to fighting. He assesses his opponents, like where to properly attack and he notes their weak points and people's most vulnerable spots to aim at, which makes his Battle I.Q. much bigger in comparison to the other First Generation Kings, who just fight with a passionate drive with fists during their fights. (Reminds me of current Daniel.) He's very clever too, and that's one of the reasons why I like Jichang's character.

O K A Y. OLD MAN. SHOWING OFF YOUR NONEXISTENT LEFT ARM, I SEE.

GODDDDD JICHANG, GET UPPPPP MAAAAAANNNNNNNNN. AAAAAAGGHHHH 😫😫😫😫

BRUHHHHHHHHHHH COME ONNNNNNNNNNN!!! I STG, IF PTJ DOESN'T LET THIS MAN WIN- <- My OG reaction 😀

YOU TELL HIMMMMMM JICHANG!!! 😩😩👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

YES JICHANG PULLED OUT THE SHTICK AND LET IT ROLLLLLLL!!! Oh fuck. Wait, WHAT??? W H A T ????????

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?! HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN BRUHHHHHHHH??? I THOUGHT YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG, JICHANG!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'M GONNA GO AND FLIP A BUNCH OF TABLES BC WTFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!

Ok, for starters... Don't they have those DNA test thingies where they investigate thoroughly in crime scenes? Bruh, Charles Choi was HOLDING the gun. CAN'T THEY NOT IDENTIFY HIS OWN FINGERPRINTS??? Also, it's understandable that he might have tipped the police too since he got power. UGGGGHHHHHH PTJ, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS LET THE VILLAINS GET AWAY WITH THEIR CRIMES??? LIKE VIVI GETTING THAT HAPPY ENDING WITH XIAOLONG EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN'T DESERVE IT. I SWEAR, JICHANG'S BROTHERS ARE GOING TO SIDE WITH DANIEL AND GET REVENGE ON CHARLES CHOI. *s i g h s* Well, anyways... It's time to send them off...

WHY IS THIS MAKING ME SOB BRUHHHHH. 😭😭😭😭😭 UGGHHHHH, WHEN THEY BOTH DIED I REALLY CRIED FOR THEM BECAUSE I ALREADY GOT AN EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT TO THE TWO OF THEM. 💔

Nah, because this mf will surely get hit with MASSIVE karma. I'm just waiting for that sweeeeeeeet sweet day. (Sorry Crystal, but your dad's a dick. 🤷🏽‍♀️)

PLEASE DANIEL, AVENGE THEM!!! UGGHHHH IM STILL DEVASTATED OVER THEM. 😭😭😭

I do admit, Jinyoung DOES look good leaning on a motorcycle while smoking on a cig. Also, IDK WHY, but Daniel looks so cute carrying all of those boxes behind him. Honestly, this interaction between Jichang and Daniel looks like Jichang is sending Daniel off to night school or something LMFAO. The boxes looks like a big ass backpack, ngl. ALSO, YES JICHANG, DON'T WORRY ABOUT DANIEL. LEAVE IT ALL TO HIM TO FIND JINYOUNG PARK AND TO BEAT CHARLES CHOI TO A PULP! 😎👍🏽

WAIT... HOLD ON NOW. SO YOU'RE TELLING ME, THE "GRIMM PLASTIC SURGERY CENTER" IS IN GANGNAM-GU ??? Hold up... Tell me, this isn't where Mangi from Viral Hit went for his plastic surgery on his nose...

Tbh I'm not caught up to the recent chapter of Viral Hit, but this was in Viral Hit's Ep. 74 on Webtoon. So... could it be, that he... went there to get plastic surgery...? 😀 (I must be trippin. If I'm incorrect, then I apologize. That part caught my eye while I was reading and I had to tie it back to the First Affiliate because... I FOUND THAT COINCIDENTAL. LEAVE ME ALONE-)

Yup, sounds about right. 💀

Omg? THE HOT DOCTOR IS BACK!!! I KNEW IT, HE'S TOO GOOD-LOOKING TO BE FORGOTTEN AS A MINOR CHARACTER!!! 😳😳😳

To be honest, he looks like he could pass as Eugene and Yoosung's older brother or something. BUT, HELLO??? 1ST AFFILIATE PRESIDENT?????? AEEEUUUUGGGHHHH THIS HOTTIE IS THE 1ST AFFILIATE PRESIDENT??? I'M- 😩😩😩😩

You see... he is one MIGHTY FINE, DOCTOR. 🥴 I wanna see if Doc got some fighting moves or not. 👀 If he does, then he got me S O L D. ��

Ok, but this chapter's focus really was on Charles Choi and whatever he did. I'm so eager to see him get beat up by everybody. Oh, but hold on now... If Tom Lee found out what REALLY happened, then that would be a problem too. Hehehehe 😈

Time to wait for the next chapter! ✌🏽

[superbatson]

i saw fotg today and bc i'm still not of sound mind to write a proper review (for here or letterboxd), i'm gonna just do a dump of all my spoilery thoughts featuring stuff i loved about the movie:

the new theme is incredible and epic i love you mr. christophe beck i'm gonna make you one of my top spotify artists this year for sure. (for reference: the previous score composer made my top 5 artists back in 2019 bc of how often i streamed the first movie's score.)

FREDDY AND ANTHEA WERE SO CUTE! obviously i'm ride or die for freebat but like freddy has two hands so he can date anthea too. honestly i'm team anthea/freddy/billy/courtney polycule. make it canon!

DARLA AND THE KITTIES! SHE NAMED ONE OF THEM TAWNY!!! so basically cat tawny, as my freebat server invented, is now movie canon. boom. (no really i screamed, i hope somehow that kitten becomes actual tawny in the movies. we really need to see tawny someday)

freddy calling billy "captain everything jr" was so fucking funny to me. like ofc freddy would act all cocky as a hero and the boys would still argue over who's the sidekick. i love it so much

GAY PEDRO REAL! WE DID IT Y'ALL!!! that scene got such a good laugh in my theater, it made me so happy. and i love that jovan got to be the one to say it too rather than dj. 'cause i know internet gays go all gaga for dj but coming out can be such a sweet, pure thing sometimes so jovan really deserved to have that moment and i'm glad he did. (and now seeing the movie, i have more respect for the tie-in comics, since pedro's was all about him being into baseball. i get why now hehe)

also i know i'm jumping ahead here but AY WE GOT AN ELVIS REFERENCE! sure, it was just the end credit song, but hey, i'll take it. it's something. and it was the junkie xl edit of the song too, so naturally, i loved it even more.

speaking of, the movie had a decent amount of bvs parallels! well, more than one, at least. everyone's harped on the final battle with billy basically sacrificing himself just like clark did in bvs (i hope to see those parallel gifsets in the future!), but i also noticed some bvs nods during billy's fight with hespera. when she dragged him by the cape and lifted him over her head to slam him onto the ground... i swear that was just like the bathroom fight with bruce and clark. at least the cape drag. i'd have to go back and watch both movies to see exactly what shots are parallel to each other, but, yeah. sandberg's movies still feel like love letters to zack's and i adore that.

WAS ANYONE GONNA WARN ME THAT IT'S ASHER'S FACE WE SEE WHEN BILLY DIES???? i mean, i didn't want the spoiler anyway but oh my god, i was not emotionally prepared. oh god. i'm still thinking about it. and freddy's sobbing. god. speaking of bvs parallels--

that scene is gonna haunt me for the rest of my days. i'm gonna write and read so many fics about it. ahhhhhhhh

yeah the movie did have a good amount of freebat bless you sandberg & gayden (and now jack and asher are adults so i can justifiably enjoy the freebat-ness of jack & zach scenes here too. suck it, antis!)

but also the movie did have a severe lack of asher and that made me kinda sad. there's a shot from the tv spots he's in that i do Not recall seeing in the movie at all. (though i did run to the bathroom just before the final battle so maybe i missed it somehow? but i doubt it bc his outfit was from an earlier part of the film) but also i kinda wish it was asher who came out of the grave instead of zach. like in the context of the movie, i understand why it was zach, bc diana gave him his powers back, but they buried regular billy so i wish he was the one to emerge from the grave. but whatever, i'm just picky.

asher did kinda out-act zach in all his scenes, though. this boy needs to get more work PRONTO! (he only has one other project coming out this year, i think. some small true story movie. put him in more blockbusters! disney, get him for your tangled remake! just something, please!!!)

the diana cameo was actually amazing and anyone saying bad things about it needs to shut the fuck up. it was great and yeah billy had a crush on her but he's established to be crushing on her in the first film too, it's literally nothing new.

"taste the rainbow, motherfu--!" one of the best lines in the movie, hands down. skittles has the only valid in-movie marketing. i know the line kinda got spoiled in tv spots but it was still so funny in context.

also darla sorting out all the yellow skittles for hespera was so cute and i was kinda thinking autie vibes before she explained her reasoning for it. the whole shazamily is neurodivergent and i will die on that hill.

yeah that's all i can think of for now i really loved the movie, i also kinda wanted more from it but probably bc i felt like we didn't see enough of the family together. but that can be resolved in a third film, of course. (if we ever get one. i know the opening box office is disappointing but maybe the film can still turn a profit. the budget's basically the same as the first film so it only has to make like $300 mil again for wb to make their money back. and it could blow up on streaming afterwards. you never know. i just hope wb is patient and takes their time before deciding on the future of shazam, if this cast is truly out for the reboot.)

[al1x00]

⚠️CHAP. 10 SPOILERS⚠️

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS OMFG I'M NOT READY FOR OPIN TO END😭😭

EXCUSE ME "TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS"?!?! WHO TF IS TRYING TO BLOW THEIR BRAINS OUT MY GOODNESS.

Love how I'm totally chill on the blood and gore part like yeah that's usual Katy™ stuff, you get used to it after reading TF🥰🥰

DAMNN HOBIE'S ON FIRE HE'S GOT NO MERCY ANYMORE. Also I love how you described the factory and the way Hick's office/balcony is placed very high up because he own the place and all that jazz because it just makes him the picture perfect image of the asshole he is LMAO

YAYY WE GOT KARL TOO THE WHOLE GANG IS HEREEE

WHOA WAIT A BAG OF TNT?? That's not gonna go well, is it..? Even if they do manage to bomb the factory, TNT is a very effective and quick explosive so if they aren't fast enough to get away someone might get hurt yknow

Hicks and his shit aim strike once again and fail😌 that man cannot land a single bullet on anyone, not even a couple of horses.

WTF HOW DID HE NOT DIE? ISTG IF HOBIE DOESN'T GET TO KILL HIM

Honestly if R was to look at Hobie and see him kill men so effortlessly while balancing only on one side of his horse they're gonna get married on the spot, like RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

Hobie lost his last whip and said "Fuck it, let's make an instrument of torture out of the new one" And I bet that shit hurt like hell.

"Everyone thinks he should be dead by now" ONE OF THE REALEST THINGS YOU WROTE YEAHH TERMINATE THAT ASSHOLE

YESS HE GOT THE DEATH HE DESERVED NO MERCY FOR HICKS

I always make sure there aren't any symbolism or anything in the paragraphs before I continue reading the chapters so I googled what do alligators symbolize and there many different versions of it. One said they symbolize inner strenght and power so I gues that could work with the power Hobie held in that moment right before he decided not to spare Hicks and let him suffer but it also says they symbolize finding solace in the present which I don't think Hicks got while he was getting eaten alive and ripped apart💀

WAIT IT'S BEEN A MONTH SINCE THE WHOLE THING HAPPENED? A WHOLE MONTH PASSED FROM THE DAY HICKS AND CROSS FOUND THEIR FARM?

OKAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HAS HAPPENED. HICKS TRIED TO KILL R BY THROWING HER DOWN THE WELL? IT'S WORSE THAN ANYTHING THEY'VE DONE TO HER BEFORE WTF HE DESERVED THAT HORRIBLE DEATH.

"A graveyard full of Cross’ ancestors lies just a few ways away from the gazebo." He's gonna join them soon if he doesn't stop with that attitude🥰🥰

R thinking about Hobie everytime someone does something that he would do just hurts so much because R doesn't even know if he's alive or not at this point. She has no way of escaping or getting any source of information about him or Riri and the others and it's so fucking sad. It's hurting me so much I just need to see them happy and healthy once more😭😭

R IS BEING A GIRLBOSS I LOVE ITT

“Look at me just like how you look at him.” Okay just one more thing to add to the list of reasons of why I hate Cross so much🥰🥰 Out of all the things he's done and said this is probably one of the most disgusting EVER.

KATYY WDYM BOTH HIT THEIR TARGET?!?!?! IS R DEAD? NONONONO I CAN'T TAKE ANOTHER SAD ENDING AFTER TF THIS BETTER BE A FUCKING JOKE

DAMN R GOT SOME AIM THAT BULLET LEFT A BIG ASS HOLE THROUGHT HIS STOMACH

...Katy I swear to god if R dies I'm gonna sue you. DON'T GIVE HOBIE ANY MORE TRAUMA HE ALREADY HAS PLENTLY AND EVEN MORE TO SPARE.

“A life lived without you isn't a life well lived, remember?” Bye don't talk to me for five business days.

KATY YOU HAD ME FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT THEY BOTH DIED IN THE FIRE OH MY GOODNESS I WAS ABOUT TO THROW A FIT I WAS ALREADY SOBBING MY EYES OUT BUT THEN I WENT ON AND I WAS LIKE "WAIT A DAMN MINUTE-"

THEY GOTH DUCKIESS AND BUCKY AND CHERRY HAVE LITTLE KIDS NOW I'M SOBBING OMFG

AND COWS TOO

AND CLOVER HAS HER PUPPIES TOO OH MY GOD IT'S SO CUTEEE

God really must have favourites because how the fuck did R survive that bullet right under her ribcage? Like sure there was a possibility but holy shit R got lucky. NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING OFC

HELLO?? BILLIE AND MONA CANON IN OPIN?? AAAA I'M LOSING MY SHIT I'M SO HAPPY THAT THEY'RE ALRIGHT AND CONTENT IN THEIR HOUSE AGAIN.

God this has been so bittersweet. Words cannot describe the utter whirlwind of emotions that I had throughtout this chapter and story overall. It has made me cry, laugh, cheer for the characters and have loads of sympathy for them, so much that sometimes I felt it to the very soul. I can safely say that this fic goes onto the podium with BDAS because the sheer amount of effort you put into this has not gone unnoticed, you've outdone yourself again like you always continue to do and I'm SO SO proud of you for writing something as beautiful as OPIN. I am not ready to say goodbye to our favourite outlaw and cowboy😭😭 (I will not say goodbye to him yet, he'll have me in a chokehold until the end of time)Honestly I could go on and yap about this for hours and hours (and I probably will because OPIN deserves it) but like- the intricacy of the storyline, the well done backstories and the way you gave each character a different moral and point of view is just 🤌* chefs kiss * YKWIM?? I will never, EVER, shut up about how R and Hobie were like complete strangers all over again when they found eachother after all those years, how they feared of the consequences of loving somebody, but in the end the only thing that mattered the most was to get back into eachother's arms and stay with the other until the end, no matter if the flames got to them or not; the fact that they were gonna die together in that fire and they were totally fine with that just because they had eachother will always cling with me. They way they both learned to love the other despite all their flaws and the how the horrible things that happened shaped them, but their love was stronger than anything else, stronger than a man and his whole bullet factory that went against two people who just truly loved eachother in the purest and most genuine way ever. They fought with claws and teeth, because they had both everything and nothing to lose, just to see the other one last time before everything caught up.

Alright I won't write more on this but I will return with another yapping session soon so expect a huge message in your inbox LMAO but thanks again for everything Katy!! LY LY LY❤️❤️❤️

Dead Man's Hand

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N, sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), Cowboy AU, wild west AU, CW food mention, CW vomit mention, CW blood and gore, CW guns, TW violence, TW abuse, TW suicidal thoughts, TW death.

A/N: if there are any warnings that I've missed please tell me so I could add it in.

This chapter tackles dark themes, read at your own discretion.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>>

The pungent, acrid and hot air of metal and gunpowder brings Hobie back in time as he slams open the steel doors to the factory with a harsh kick. Machinery whirs, and twists, sharp steel dancing to the beat of the flames as it turns molten iron into instruments of death.

Hobie roams his fury-filled eyes around the factory, green flames flicker in those eyes, finding grime coated faces of strangers staring back at him and his posse. One glances their dark eyes towards the upper level of the factory where a balcony is placed. Where Hicks would look down with contempt, and would scream at the overworked employees to hurry production. Hobie knows it all too well, the factory mirrors the one back home. In the middle of the balcony sits an office with frosted windows that bear Hicks’ name. But the man is nowhere to be found within the crowd.

“If you're not Hicks, get the fuck out.” He doesn't need to yell the command, for everyone turns to run outside towards the back exit where half of Miguel's gang lies in wait; and Hicks' lackeys lay dead on the soft muddy ground.

One running and hiding away amidst the crowd catches his eye with the same face as one of the men who buried him all those years ago. “‘cept you.” With one swift raise of his six shooter, smoke billowing out, a hole now sits on the man's torso where his heart should be. “Hicks, better get down ‘ere or my people will blow this place to the ground.” Hobie steps over the bloody body, crimson coating the sole of his boots. “Rainin’ bullets don't mix well with a room full of explosives.”

There's no movement nor a whisper in the entire factory save for the fading sounds of the machines slowly shutting off. He catches a glimpse of a shadow behind a closed frosty door in the upper level of the factory. It was quick and sudden, if not for Riri's gentle nudge towards the movement, he'd think he was seeing you again for a brief cruel moment.

“Ri, Karl, come with me.” Hobie emerges behind the blackened air from the large machines. Three sets of boots thumping silently as they bound upstairs.

He reaches the door, back on the solid wall and away from the glass. Riri stays on his right, shotgun cocked and ready while Karl checks his bag of TNT on Hobie's left. As he moves to open the door, a bullet pierces the glass, shattering it into sharp tiny pieces. A shard nicks Hobie's cheek, but he ignores the throbbing pain as blood trickles out.

“You're still alive, you little shit?!” Hicks yells, shooting blindly at the door.

The trio stays still and waits for the opening. A click echoes in the quiet, and clouds of gunpowder float through the air. Hobie and the others take their opportunity. Karl lights a stick of dynamite, chucking it inside the room and then ducking down to cover his ears. Hobie doesn't waste time, leaving the safety of the cover, he twists to face the door, shooting at the flying TNT— effectively blowing it near Hicks while Hobie holds onto his hat so that it doesn't get blown away.

The explosion causes Hobie to stagger backwards, if not for Riri pulling him back to the side, he would've fallen off the railings. Sulfur fills the air as they cough, puffs of grey smoke clouds the entire office space.

His ears ring, a sharp high pitched sound that he's awfully familiar with. He gives Riri a thankful nod, which she replies with a smug smile and a raise of her eyebrow. Hobie takes the lead, flicking his eyes towards Karl, who gives him a thumbs up, and with his hair all messed up from the explosion. Satisfied that his group is alright, he enters the fray. Smoke giving way to him and his raised gun. Shards of glass crunch at his feet, singed papers lay burned on the floorboards as embers flicker out in the air.

As the smoke clears out and the hot air of the south enters through the broken windows— Hobie finds no one inside the room.

“Fuck!” As he yells into the emptiness, a horse neighs outside, hooves running frantically away while bullets fly and ricochet. He immediately looks down, finding Hicks half burnt and riding away. “Like a fuckin’ roach.” Without thinking ahead, Hobie vaults from the window, softening his fall with a roll. Landing, knees aching but intact, he whistles for Bucky.

“Hobie, what the fuck?!” Riri and Karl simultaneously scream out, but Hobie's already running while Bucky follows right behind him.

Once Buckeye trots next to him, Hobie grabs hold of the saddle's horn to swiftly lift himself up on the saddle with a quick pull. No one's going to stop him, Miguel already considers Hicks dead just from the look of determination behind those green eyes.

Hobie leaves everyone in the dust. Bucky neighs wildly, huffing and puffing as he tries to catch up. “Hicks!” Said man turns on his saddle a few ways ahead, arm raising to aim and to shoot his gun. Bullets whizz past, hot air passing by as Hicks misses every single bullet.

Hicks’ scalding flesh makes him keel over in pain as his blood drenches his horse. “Shit!” He kicks roughly, his horse whines before speeding off.

Bucky gains speed, catching up to Hicks whilst he reloads. But of course, his hired guns finally catch wind. A handful of them appear from the side, trudging from the muddy swamp with alligators lurking underneath, and riding towards the bumpy road where the main chase is happening.

The rival posse hollars and hoots, sneering smiles and guns aimed at Hobie. Riri and the others are still catching up to him, so he's left alone to defend himself and Bucky. With fury fuelling him, he has everything to lose so he'll shoot through all of them like a hot knife through butter.

While the mercenaries leave the line of trees, Hobie enters the thicket, swerving to the side, using the large and sturdy trees for cover. The ground may be soft and muddy, but Hobie and his loyal horse have been in dozens of situations like this. The swamp might've slowed them down but it doesn't stop them as splintered wood flicks and flies while his enemies continue to shoot at his swift horse.

A bullet comes too close to his head, piercing a hole in the brim of his hat. He clicks his tongue, annoyed at the damage. Patting Bucky, he takes his foot off one of the stirrups to bring it to the safer side where no bullets could come at him. With two legs on one side, hand holding on to the saddle horn and reins, Hobie rides sideways, hiding his body while peeking over and shooting with calculated aim as Bucky runs back towards the path. One by one, the mercenaries fall off their horses with his bullets pierced through their bodies. The road is coated with their blood, leaving trails of rubies for his posse to follow.

Miguel trots closer, shooting at what remains of Hicks' men. The gang hoots at the sight, adrenaline rushing through their veins, and blood heating up from the violence.

While Riri and Karl have their eyes on Hobie, who now sits upright on Bucky, they kick on their horses and off they go, riding side by side with Him. Hicks panics from the sheer volume of horses running after him, with his last bullets, he aims at Bucky's leg.

Hobie beats him to the punch, quickly thrashing his whip made out of jagged metal wires, tearing the skin off of Hicks' arm apart when Hobie pulls hard at it. Hicks screams in sheer agony, tumbling and falling off his horse into the moist ground, soil entering his burns and mouth. When the dust settles, he looks up to only see the end of Hobie's gun.

It's silent in the marsh as the sun shines on his gun; frogs hum in the distance, gators trill when they smell meat while Hicks' labored breathing quickens. Hobie has his gun digging into Hicks’ skull, skin red and angry from his burns. Half of his face has melted into a mess of meat and bones, left eye barely opening from his melted eyelid. A pungent smell permeates from his oozing wounds, clothes torn and burned to ash, and ankle twisted at an angle. Hicks’ hands are buried halfway into the ground as he sinks down to the muddy plains.

Everyone thinks he should be dead by now, even Hicks himself, but death won't grant him the sweet release just yet— not until Hobie takes what he is owed.

“My, don't you look pretty, Hicks.” Hobie doesn't smile nor smirk at the sight of the man who buried him alive five years ago. A man who now kneels before him, disfigured beyond recognition, feeding the soil under him with his own suffering.

“F-fuck y-y-you.” Hicks' lips tremble from the unimaginable pain. “I w-will not b-beg.” He manages to curl half of his melted lips into one final sneer. “Not l-like how you did.”

“I don't want you to beg, Hicks.” Hobie digs the metal harshly, skin ripping and tearing like paper from under the gun. “I need to know where she is. You're dyin' anyway, your last words might as well be somethin' useful.”

Hobie's cold words makes the man scoff that quickly turns into a painful cough. “No. Didn't your old man tell you that revenge is a f-fool's game?”

“This isn't revenge, this is retribution.” Hobie tilts his head, looking behind Hicks where a pack of gators trill and show themselves under the green swamp. “If you tell me, I won't let the gators eat you alive.”

“Wha–?” Hicks' slowly turns his trembling head, skin painfully tugging with every movement. One of the gators snaps its maw, warning with its sharp teeth. The entire gang hears this grown man whimper from fear.

“They look mighty hungry, Hicks. Better hurry up.”

“You'd t-take me away from them?”

“No, I'd put you out of your misery before they get to you. Something you didn't give me back then.”

Hobie can practically see the rusty cogs in Hicks' head turning. “...alright, just don't let them eat m-me.” His burns flares up as he doubles in pain.

Hobie makes the man raise his head with the barrel pushing his chin up. “Sure.”

“She's at the big white house near Blackwater, just west of the r-road. You can't miss it.”

“You lyin’” Hobie doubts the information when he gave it to him too fast. Jaw tightening at the thought of you being so close yet so far from his reach.

“No, I'm not.” Hicks hears the unmistakable sound of the reptile crawling closer. “It's the truth.”

Riri flicks her eyes towards Hobie, leaning close, whispering lowly at his ear. “I know the place.” Hobie doesn't miss the hard look in her eyes. “He's not local, that place is well hidden, he wouldn't know that only the locals know about it.” She glares at the sniveling man, “It's ways away from the road he's talking about. Fucking far from it. Easily missed if you're not familiar with the place.”

Hicks figures out what she's whispering when Hobie's anger flares, hand tightening around his gun. “I'm telling the truth, Hobie. It's there and she's waiting for you! I promise! She's the one lying!” He points a crooked finger at Riri.

“Thought you wouldn't beg.” His fate is sealed with the gators. “Technically you did lie.” Hobie drops his arm, gun aimed away from Hicks. “Off you go with the gators, boss.”

“No, no, Hobie! Please, I'm sorry!” Hicks tries to grab at Hobie's leg, but Hobie kicks him down on the ground and on his back. He tilts his head back, meeting face to face with a ten foot alligator that seems to smile at him.

His screams echo around the marsh while Hobie and the others get on their horses. He watches the gator death roll the flailing Hicks on the muddied ground until the wailing stops completely.

Hobie leads the pack away while he leaves behind the sound of tearing skin and bones cracking under sharp teeth. And all he could think about is you, and how he could've had a good life with you.

—

Draped in chiffon and stab silk, iridescent blues and purples dance along the fabric as light hits it. Expensive fabric that hides all the aching blemishes on your flesh by the same men who claim that they are doing it for your sake, that it's the only way you would obey.

Your hands are tied behind your back with Cross' hand wrapped around your wrists in a sickening grip; preventing you from moving. You shine under the southern sun, all gold and frills but none of the happiness behind your sullen and dull eyes.

For a fleeting moment in those months you were with Hobie, you had peace. You'd stay there forever if you could, if only the world had granted it to you, instead of the pain that it brought down upon you.

You could've had a good life together.

It's been a whole month since the last time you saw Hobie alive. A whole month without hearing his voice, without his loving touch; and a whole month with the same family who has hurt you in every possible way they could. The image of Hobie buried under the rubble of your shared home spirals you over the edge once again. You've cried, wept and sobbed some more, but nothing has helped. You feel like you've died right next to him. You wish you had.

Meanwhile you have a wound that was never meant to be healed inside you. A wound that was momentarily healed, until you were brought back to the reality of your dreaded life.

You instinctively run your finger around the gold band around your finger, finding the unfamiliar diamond instead of the simple gold band that turns your face even more sour at the scalding heat that turns your heavy dress into an oven. You had the foresight to hide Hobie's ring the second you had a chance. It now lays underneath your floorboards waiting for you.

There's a heavy feeling in your chest, grief running along your heart, plunging your very being into darkness. It was like that day five years ago, you have no knowledge of him alive, no way of knowing if Hicks ended him. It's an awful case of déjà vu.

Both men stand beside you, as if they're meant to guard you. The estate stands behind you, its large shadow looming over you. All Its white marble and columns stand tall, doors that don't creak, windows pristine and gleaming— but you'd rather have the pile of ashes you once called home.

This place lacks a heartbeat.

You flick your tired eyes over to the well beside the estate, your body shivers from how cold it was inside, when you sank into it like stone the first time Hicks threw you inside. It's a miracle you didn't break your neck, in that moment, you wished it had.

A carriage arrives from a distance, horses galloping along the road towards the estate. Wispy cypress trees sit around the path, parting way for the dirt road leading to the house. Its soft leaves dance in the wind, leaves fluttering by as you watch the carriage get closer and closer.

“Remember to smile, we can't lose their money.” Hicks grabs the back of your dress, yanking your neck down for emphasis. “Don't be a bitch like last time or you'll get the well tonight. And I heard it'll be cold tonight.”

“I'll be in my best behavior, uncle.” Your glare towards the rich couple exiting the carriage says otherwise.

Hicks only gives you a stern look before letting you go. Cross loosens his grip for a moment and you immediately take your hands in front of you so he couldn't hold you again. You haven't spoken a word to the man you call husband since you arrived at the estate. Your defiance got your bedroom door locked from the outside for now but was taken apart for the first week of your stay. Showing you bare to the entire world, revealing to the world that you're his.

The woman clad in gold and gemstones huffs, flinging away a fly from her painted face. “God, I hate this humidity.”

“This better be good this time, Hicks.” Her husband takes his tophat off, wrinkling his nose at the scent of heat and damp marsh.

“You won't regret traveling for this, Mr. Burnell.” Hicks sucks up to the man. “My, don't you look lovely, Mrs. Burnell.”

She giggles, hiding the blush dusting her cheeks with a fan. “Oh don't be such a gentleman, Hicks.”

“Stop sucking up to my wife, Hicks.” Even though his smile tells you that it's a joke, his tone says that he's completely irked by your uncle. Perhaps this has happened before.

You roll your eyes subtly, Cross’ jaw tightens as he shakes hands with both guests. “It's a pleasure to have you both today.” He says flatly.

“An honour.” Your tone is tight, lips turned into a strained smile.

“I remember you,” the male Burnell smiles faintly at you. “And you too,” he points at Cross. “I was at your wedding, what a wonderful ceremony.” You clench your fists tightly around your lace gloves, almost tearing the fabric.

“Oh I also remember!” His wife claps, “your gown was lovely, and the deviled eggs were to die for!”

You laugh, a sound more akin to a scoff. “I should've had some back then.”

Mr. Burnell reaches for both of your hands, holding you gently as you make a face at him that doesn't quite reach the man's full understanding. “I'm sorry about your aunt, we sent flowers to the funeral. I hope it was to your liking.”

“I wouldn't know, I wasn't there.” You swallow thickly.

“Oh poor dear,” The woman touches your cheek, and you flinch away. She coos as if you're a child. “You couldn't even bear saying goodbye.”

“Sure,” you slide your hands away from the man's hold, and then you take her hand away from your skin. “That's why.”

Hicks inhales deeply, “why don't we go to the gazebo? Tea is being served there.” He takes their attention away from you.

“We came all this way and you don't even have lunch for us?” Mr. Burnell raises a thick brow, his wife agrees with a nod.

“We did.” Cross finally speaks through gritted teeth. “It got cold.” The couple flares their nostrils in annoyance.

“This place was hard to find.”

“You had us waiting for two hours. Hardly an excuse, Mr. Burnell.” Cross doesn't back down from the older man's stare.

“W-what my associate was trying to say was that— we didn't want to serve you all cold beef! No one likes cold beef, correct?” Hicks tries to save the day, but they don't respond. “There's deviled eggs in the gazebo.” That seemed to work as they followed Hicks towards the blue gazebo behind the house.

Cross yanks you back to his side before you could get far. Your chest tightens, threatening to stop your breathing as he whispers towards one of the estate workers to prepare a batch of deviled eggs immediately. The second they leave, you glare at Cross, refusing to touch him even though his fingers dig into your arm.

“Don’t run, Y/N.” He says for the umpteenth time. You would run, and you had a few times while you're with him. But you were only met with your cheeks burning into the shape of his palm, and his hired guns dragging you back inside the mansion with their lassos tied around your ankles.

“I can't even breathe in this dress, moreso run in it.” You try to take your arm back but he stops you with his nails dragging along your sleeves.

“Be good, be fucking obedient. Don't be impossible like you always were.” His green eyes remind you so much of Hobie that it taints his image in your mind. You refuse to let it fog his image.

“I am not a dog, Cross.” You fight back, why shouldn't you? You have nothing to lose now.

He comes close to your face, jade eyes reflecting the fear in your expression, breath wafting over your face. “Then don't act like one.” His eyes pass over your face, finding fear laced in between the creases of your expression. His tone softens, one that sends shivers down your spine. “Why don't you call me by my real name? Cross is our last name, Y/N. Can you call me—”

“No.” You yank yourself away even if it means that his fingers drag along your arm in a manner that makes your skin run cold.

The next thing you know you're sitting next to Mrs. Burnell, who swallows down deviled eggs like its water. The entire table is set all prettily, blue laces sitting under white porcelain, utensils draped in silver, and chairs soft whilst the gazebo with lilacs growing on the roof acts as your shade. A graveyard full of Cross’ ancestors lies just a few ways away from the gazebo. Withering gravestones left unattended, and overgrown grass drowning each of the carved names. It leaves a heavy presence in the back of your mind.

The fork in your hand shakes, silver shining in the sunlight bearing down behind you just as when a pair of red cardinals fly next to the gazebo. The murmurs of the marsh echoes around the estate, gators trilling a few ways away, birds chirping and cawing right next to croaking bullfrogs. You're surrounded by green with a dash of greed as Hicks continues to suck up to the rich prospective partners.

A hand cups your own, and for a flicker, you thought it was Hobie's calloused hand gently holding onto you until his nails jab into your palm. Cross gives you a hard look, gesturing for you to eat instead of staring blankly at the cakes in front of you. With a mocking smile, you take a glass of cold orange juice on your right, condensation drenching your ungloved hand. You don't break eye contact as you gulp down the entire glass, making the Burnells look at you with pinched brows. For the final touch, you exhale loudly as if you were thirsty beyond belief.

Hicks chuckles nervously, eyes darting from you to the rich couple. Cross is fuming silently, letting your hand go limp on the table. An employee comes to your side, refilling your glass as everyone at the table stays in awkward silence. You can't help but puff out your chest with pride. Hobie would've loved to see that. Their faces would be worth it for the wrath you're about to face.

Mr. Burnell clears his throat, “as I was saying, we can't give twenty thousand for only ten percent shares. It's daylight robbery, Hicks.”

“Oh come on, Quentin, you've known me for a long time!” Hicks plays the ‘old friend’ card, a trick you've seen one too many times. “You know I can be trusted, and that ten percent will go higher once we've had our foothold here in America.”

“I do know you, that's why you can't be trusted. Even her aunt knew better when she gave the company to her.” Burnell pauses, bespectacled eyes staring at you briefly. Your lips curl up into a smirk. You probably don't have to work too hard in sabotaging this one. “Besides, that was back when you were the leading manufacturer in the UK. There was a guarantee, now you're here in a country that is practically shitting bullets by the buckets.” He leans back in his seat, “face it, you old dog, there's no profit here for you.”

“He's right,” His wife enters the conversation, dabbing her mouth daintily with a handkerchief. “Why did you even move here in the first place? I heard the company was doing badly back home but not that bad, right?”

Hicks coughs, drinking from his glass, stalling from answering. Cross has had enough, he leans on the table, elbows right next to his untouched plate, white suit unblemished.

“Because I'm here.” He takes your hand, making a show of it for the Burnells. He's using the ‘I love my wife’ card. Surprisingly, it's only the second time he has used it on the rich and stupid. “And my wife deserves to be with her husband, yes?” The couple looks at each other, then returns their attention to you as you try incredibly hard not to vomit all over the table. “I've…ignored her for far too long while I'm always here tending to my own business.” He clasps the back of your hand with his free hand. “We were deeply saddened by her aunt's passing, but I saw a silver lining. Taking the tragedy and turning it into something better by bringing her and her family business here to my home so we could finally start having our own family here without the dark cloud looming over us.” He was right about one thing, your aunt was a dark cloud looming over everyone. Cross leaned close, pecking your hand chastely. “Right, love?”

You close your eyes to prevent yourself from heaving out what little you've eaten. “Right.” Tone small and disgusted, you have the sudden urge to stab his eyes out with a fork. For a second, your mind gives you that exact image. Seeing his blood spurt out from his sockets and spraying on the deviled eggs.

For some reason, even with the disgusted look on your face, the Burnells' hard exterior softens. The missus clutches the pearls on her chest as if she just heard the most romantic story, and the male Burnell nods along with a fond smile. “You two remind me of my first marriage.” His wife chuckles, you frown, eyebrows knitted together as Cross plays along to his concocted story.

They continue their negotiation with more enthusiasm. Hicks pats Cross gladly on the shoulder, already drafting up a contract on a piece of parchment. Thankfully, Cross has let you go. Free to wipe your hand on your dress. You replay the last minute in your mind, like you're stuck in the moment he touched you with his dry lips upon the same hand you used to cradle Hobie's face with.

The conversation fades into the background, a thought passes you by, one that you're too grief stricken to see until now. Why is Cross even helping Hicks? He has the money to fund whatever the factory needs, he doesn't even need to be in the conversation. He has nothing to gain from this. He already has you, so why does he seem so desperate to get this partnership?

Then it hits you, he's as bankrupt as Hicks. Hicks, who drove the company to the ground with his moronic decisions the second your great aunt was in the ground. And Cross, there was never a day in your short marriage with him that he wasn't out gambling his family fortune away, or going to exotic places you've only read in books. When he doesn't have his hands on you, he's at the nearest pub or the derby races, betting everything in his pockets. You always just thought he had that much money to lose. But you were wrong. And the only reason you're here is because of the money your parents have set aside for you, money that is tied up with the company or what is left of it— the company that you own and have the last say in. Until your name isn't written in that contract that Hicks shoves in your face every morning, they have nothing.

“You have nothing.” You blurt out, you don't regret it immediately.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Burnell says, offended.

“Not you, I know you have money.” You place your elbows on the table, chin propped up on your scarred palm. “I was talking about my dear uncle and beloved husband.” Your words drip with venom and sarcasm.

“What are you saying?” Mrs. Burnell asks, concerned, either for your well being with the two men or for the money she almost lost.

“Shut it, Y/N.” Hicks says through gritted teeth, eyes warning you.

“Don't tell a woman to shut up, Hicks.” Surprisingly, Mr. Burnell defends you. “Speak, girl.” And there goes your respect.

“They don't have anything.” Cross tries to yank your hand back but you quickly tug yourself away. “Hicks is lying, the company is losing money, not gaining it. Production has been down since they moved here, probably because Hicks doesn't know how to run a company.”

You continue your tirade without missing a beat. “He was a manager before marrying my aunt, but he was a shit manager. If not for Peter—” you inhale and clear your mind. “All I'm saying is, he's asking for a scapegoat for the debt collectors, not a business partner.” You flick your eyes mockingly towards the seething Hicks. Meanwhile, Cross sits quietly, you're afraid but you have to continue. “I retract my previous words.” Hicks inhales with relief. “It's not probably, it's definitely.” He stutters, trying to save face but you continue. “He's overworking the workers and because of that there's more mistakes. More mistakes means more bullets that come out a little crooked. That's good, if your targets swerve to the left.”

“She's lying!” Hicks laughs shakily, fists slamming down on the table. “You know how women are? She's hysterical because of her aunt's passing.”

You scoff. “You said it yourself, Mr. Burnell, you don't trust Hicks.” All eyes are on you. Your words fill you with pride, Hobie would be proud. “As for Cross, I wouldn't even trust him with my coin pouch.”

The Burnells seemingly believe you, heads turned slowly towards Cross and Hicks, eyes boring holes in their foreheads. “Looks like we wasted our time. You're right, honey, we should've gone for the Winchester instead of this clown show.”

“You believe me?” You ask, bewildered. “That quick?”

“We passed by the factory on our way here, that's why we were late.” Burnell answers back. Already taking his belongings to leave. “We saw the horrid conditions. We were naive to believe that it was like that because you're still getting used to the transition.” He helps his wife up as Hicks follows behind the couple. Cross stays behind silently while you stay with the Burnells in hopes that they'd take you with them. “Thank you, girl.”

“You're welcome, c-can I—” The couple gets in their carriage, eyes blinking at you. “Can I come with you?” You sound like a child, voice trembling in hope that they'll say yes. “Please.”

Hicks chuckles incredulously right next to them, but his eyes grow dark at your request, a warning. Cross appears behind you, green eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat, lips clamped into a fine line.

“What for, girl?” Mr. Burnell asks, “We don't need any more bootlicking. We're not giving you the money for the factory.”

You flex your fists on your sides, eyes darting in between Hicks and Cross. Heart thumping, you have to try. “I don't— it's not that. I don't need the money. I—”

“So you do have the money for the company then? Why bother asking us?” The older man cuts you off, scoffing while his wife rolls her eyes. “Kids these days, so greedy.” He gets in the carriage, following his wife.

“Wait! Please!” It's too late as they run off in the distance. In your desperation, you start to run after them. But before you could go far, Cross stops you with his arms embracing you from behind. “No! Please come back! They're hurting me here—!” Your flailing stops when Hicks steps in front of you with his gun raised.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” He clicks the hammer down, finger right on the trigger. “You've doomed us.”

With tears in your eyes, Cross holds you against him tighter. Chest aching, breath stolen from you. “No, just you!” Yet, you continue to fight. You might've lost hope a long time ago if not for Hobie. Hope that you'll get out like last time, hope that Hobie will be there waiting for you. But there's a part of you that just wants to let go. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with familiar green eyes that used to fill you with calm. “And you.”

“I should shoot you right here.”

“Do it then. But you can't because without my signature you're fucking broke!” With a cackle, Hicks yanks the back of your head, taking you from Cross' arms, dragging you towards the well. Body scraping against soil, you try to scratch at his hands but it doesn't deter him as his anger fuels him.

“Fucking bitch, you keep ruining shit!” He yanks you to your feet, and then pressing your front to the mouth of the well while pushing you down harshly, making you look down at the depths.

You yelp, sharp rocks digging into your stomach, eyes forced to look down at the deep dark well. It's cold down there, you wonder if this is what it felt like for Hobie back at the farm. Staying quiet, your hands grip the sides to keep your balance, a bead of sweat falling down and leaving ripples as it hits the stagnant water.

“What, no begging or screaming and crying this time?” Hicks latches on your hair tightly, scalp burning from his hold.

“I've gotten used to the dark. You won't hear me begging ever again.” Your voice echoes down to the bottom. “You can't hurt me anymore, not in the way that matters.” Releasing your hold on the sides, you lean closer to the edge. Expecting the cold embrace and the familiar weightlessness, it doesn't come.

There's a scoff above before you're let go. “I have to correct your fuck up.” He seethes, giving your leg a swift kick as you lay your head on the stone. “Deal with her.”

“I'm not one of your employees, Hicks.” Cross challenges him.

“She's your fucking wife. You discipline her while I go to the factory. As for you,” he flicks the shell of your ear. “Your name better be on that contract when I get back.” You hear their continued bickering whilst you even out your breathing. Just like what Hobie would tell you.

After a rustle of clothing and dress shoes thumping on the ground, you fall on your knees, still clutching the well. Face hidden from Cross, he sighs, hand reaching towards you. Feeling the sickening familiarity of his hand wrapped around your arm, you instinctively flinch away.

“Why couldn't you just obey, just this once?”

You heave, furrows knitted in anger. Looking over your arm, your glare sends goosebumps up his arms. “I'm not one of your hounds.”

“Then why do you kneel like one?” The sun behind him engulfs his entire form, turning him into a breathing shadow.

“Go fuck yourself, Cross.” You shakily stand up while avoiding his gaze. Walking towards the house, you clench your fists until you feel your blunt nails leave pin pricks of crimson

“I'm trying here, Y/N. You're making it impossible.” He yanks you back, neck craned to the side to look at you. “I'm holding back but you're not making this easy.”

“You sound like this is all my fault.” You still avoid his eyes, forgoing to look at the tree behind him. “I'm not the one who gambled all your money away. And I didn't force you to marry me.” His fingers pull you closer.

“Look at me.”

“Fuck you—” you try to escape but he's stronger.

“Look at me just like how you look at him.” He forcefully turns your head with his hand burrowing into your chin.

With apprehension, you chuckle, a cracked dry laughter. Your eyes slowly move to the green eyes in front of you. “I'll never look at you like that. Nothing you do will make me look at you with the same love I give to him.”

Cross swallows thickly, jaw tightening. “Why him?”

“It felt right. We share the same heart.” It's the first truth you've said in a month, and for once you smile genuinely. “I'll always love him, remember that.”

He inhales, and you wait for the impact.

“Sir?” The housekeeper asks from the side, hands wringing in front of her. “Is everything alright?” Her brown hair shimmers in the sun like copper, lips turned into a fine line.

She reminds you of the former housekeeper that tried to help you by taking your letter addressed to Hobie. Cross found out about it, you haven't seen her since then.

“We're alright, Belinda.” Cross lets you go, leaving a mark on your arm. “Fetch me my hunting rifle.”

You leave with haste, hands shaking as you hitch your skirt up. You can feel his sickly green eyes on you, like a shadow that envelops you whole.

You've crossed the line, and you fear that this is the end for you.

—

Pacing around your room, you walk around and hold your breath. It's like waiting for the gallows, waiting for the bullet to hit you. Hobie's ring is back on your finger instead of what Cross gave you on your wedding day, which is the exact same one you left on the bedside table when you escaped. You twist it around your finger as the room shifts and twirls in your vision.

The room is finely decorated with daffodils painted on the walls, gold fixtures on the ceiling with painted deers trotting overhead on fields of green on the ceiling. The room looks like it used to be a child's room. A pale blue bed sits in the middle of the room, draped in a satin canopy. It's a stark contrast to the room back at the farm, all wood and none of the gilded walls. But you'd choose that a hundred times over if given the chance. Especially if Hobie's there waiting for you.

You feel like you're slowly disappearing into the walls.

Your eyes have been glued to the door as you chew your nails. You'd lock the doors from the inside if the locks weren't instead bolted from the outside. Tears brim at your eyes, but you refuse to let it go as you sniff. You miss your home, you miss the smell of dew in the morning. You miss Clover and how she cuddles on your side. You miss Cherry and Bucky and your afternoon rides with them. You miss him, you miss Hobie and how he holds you gently, how he talks to you about things. It's him talking so you'd listen and speak with him until the sun decides to sleep. You miss his voice telling you that everything will be alright.

You wonder if everything will still be alright when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door.

Cross doesn't knock, and you wait at the foot of your bed, standing straight, eyes forward and daunting despite your fear. If he shoots you through the door now, would Hobie be there to greet you on the other side as darkness engulfs you one last time?

This house will be a tomb. Your tomb.

The door doesn't creek as Cross opens it. “Hunt with me, just like old times.” He has a rifle strapped to his back, suit traded in for his haunting gear, still clad in white leather. Your eyes flick over to the two guns on his belt. If only you could take it from him. Or at least one.

“Giving me a gun? Do you think that's wise?” You cross your arms over your chest, clearing your throat so he doesn't notice the shaking of your voice.

“Why? You'd shoot me in the back?” He asks chidingly.

“In a heartbeat.” You say without even a hint of a joke. “What's even out there, Cross? What are we hunting down?”

“A deer.”

“I don't think there are any deer out here.” A dangerous silence hangs in the air, choking you as he stares deeply at you. You inhale, swallowing down your fear as best as you can. “If you give me a knife instead, I will stab your eye out. Killing other things won't keep us from killing each other.”

He clicks his tongue, hand on the gun like he's mocking you. “Take the dog instead.” Taking the leash off his belt he holds it out for you. “A dog for a hound. At least this one is loyal.”

“Which end of the leash is the hound?”

“What do you want, Y/N, hm?” Tossing the leash harshly, he stalks closer, and you flinch back. A doe caught in the coyote's eye. “I broke your heart, I get it. Do you want me to apologize to you?”

“My heart? That's the only thing you haven't broken yet.” He stops a few feet away from you, yet still too close to you. “You broke my body until I could barely recognize myself anymore. My arms bear the shape of your nails, my scalp remembers the sharp tugs of your hands.” You exhale as a tear falls down your cheek. “Hobie broke my heart, but he pieced it together, piece by tiny piece.” You point at him repeatedly. “You, you broke everything else.”

“If this is about your aunt—”

“Fuck you! This isn't about her.” If this is really your end, you don't want to leave without saying the words you've been meaning to say out loud. You tremble for a second before grinning with tears in your eyes. "I'm glad she's gone. Her hold on me is gone.” You chuckle breathlessly, sighing loudly. “There I said it. It's like a boulder has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Y/N,” there it is, the patronizing tone he uses on you. He's about to guilt you into something you haven't had a hand in, or chastise you like a child.

“Stop being so fucking delusional, take the blinders off for one fucking minute.” The fire in you latches on you. “This is about you and how you hurt me the second you brought me home after the wedding. You knew that I never wanted to marry anyone else, and that my aunt and Hicks hurt me back home. And instead of helping me, taking me away from them, you joined them.”

“I got you out of there. I married you.”

You laugh without an ounce of humour, clapping wildly. “Well thank you very much, Cross!”

“I tried for a little while, Y/N. But I'm your husband, and you continued to disobey so I had to go to them, ask them for advice.” He walks closer, you stop him with a hand in front of you, as if it will shield you from him. You've tried that once, it didn't work.

“Nothing you do will make me forgive you. I hope you drown in your guilt if you even have an ounce of it. I hope you lay awake at night thinking of how much you hurt me. I'd rather die than forgive you.” Cross steps forward with an unreadable expression, and the back of your knees hits the bed as you try to get away. You eye the gun, you fear that you won't keep your promise to Hobie.

The world already ended for you when Hicks killed him.

Cross tries again. You think it'll be the last time he will the second he walks closer to you, so close that you can see yourself in his eyes. “Sign the papers, Y/N, and everything will be over.”

“You know the second I sign it, Hicks will kill me.” Your eyes wander towards his unlatched gun.

“I won't let that happen.”

You laugh in his face, “Sure, but you'll let him hurt me. Might as well sign my death warrant instead.” Standing back up, you inch towards him bravely despite your instincts telling you to shield yourself. You have to get that gun. “I–I tried to love you at first, and remained optimistic in this marriage.” His eyes are on your face, irises darting over your lips while you sneak your hand towards his gun belt slowly. “Even indulging my idiotic childish whims of what a marriage could be like. But I couldn't, not when you hurt me just like they did. Only because I didn't love you like how you thought I would.” Your hand finds the cold metal, fingers wrapping around the handle. “For a second there I thought you'd be my saviour, when in fact it was the opposite. You joined them instead. You were just as bad as them.”

You stand toe to toe with him. You hear a glass breaking downstairs, and then the smell of something familiar. Snatching the gun quickly, you aim it at his stomach, steel meeting flesh. You feel the same sensation against your chest.

“I love you.” Cross utters, finger right on the trigger.

“I've seen love, this isn't it.” With your cold words, you shoot.

Both guns go off.

Both hitting their targets.

—

The sun is just beginning to set, orange peeking from the horizon, hues of pink and orange blanketing the three men. Each inhale from the cigarette perched in each of their lips has grey smoke filtering through their lungs. They should be guarding the front door like they were hired to do, instead they chainsmoke their way out into an early grave while hiding behind the estate, facing the vast green marsh that hides their debauchery from the rest of the world.

“You hear any cryin’ last night?” The one with an auburn beard asks, his rifle leaning against the wall right next to him instead of in his hand like it was supposed to be in.

A dark haired man answers, belching out smoke while crouched on the ground, eyes narrowed at the whispering willows. “Yeah, i think the stable boy wasn't lying, there's a fuckin' ghost here.”

“You two think it's a fucking ghoul or some shit?” The third one replies with a scoff, blonde hair peeking out from his hat as he takes a swig of moonshine.

“Yeah,” The first two responds, spine tingling when a cold breeze passes through them.

“It's the boss’ wife, not a ghost, you morons.” As the yellowed haired man responds, a bright flicker of light appears in between the willow trees. “What the fuck?” The two men next to him follows his terrified gaze, cigarettes falling off their lips.

The light moves, as if it dances in the wind. It flickers, brightening up into an orange glow before turning yellow once again. The three outlaws move from the wall, eyes glued on the mesmerizing ball of light.

“Fuck, it's a swamp ghost—” the one with the red beard gasps, choking on his own blood, frantically trying to stop his neck from gushing out ichor with a knife stuck to his throat.

The other two only had a split second to react before a sharp knife slashes at their exposed necks. They mirror each other, shirts stained with red, palms coated in warmth and crimson while they frantically try to stop the bleeding. They croak and creak out, eyes managing to fall upon hazel eyes, and one with his face covered in soot. They both hold a glinting knife, blood still trickling down from the steel.

Miguel leaves from his hiding place in the thicket, eyes flicking briefly towards their twitching forms before returning his gaze at the ball of light. He nods to Riri and Karl, who stand above the corpses. And then he gestures with his gloved hand, giving the warm light a small nod.

The light comes closer, footsteps echoing as boots sink in moist soil— appearing behind the darkness of the trees and into the fading light of the sun. Hobie's face is revealed behind the light with a lit cigarette in between his lips, shadows dancing around the fury behind his green eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. He inhales before flicking the cigarette away, falling into a puddle. More appear behind him, trees and bushes parting before the dozen men and women following in his steps.

“Karl, light the oleander for me will you?” Hobie tosses the bag of pink flowers in Karl's waiting hands. And then he takes his knife back from the auburn haired corpse, wiping it on the grass before sheathing it back on his belt.

“D’you think that'll work? What if she gets caught in it?” Riri whispers, gesturing for the gang to crouch down and hide beside the wall where the trio were last seen smoking.

Hobie drags one of the bodies, hiding it behind the bushes while the rest of the gang help with the other two. He follows Riri, blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins at how close you are from him. It's only a matter of time before you're back safe and sound.

“She knows the smell, she'll cover her nose.” His voice doesn't waver, but his insides are turning and twisting inside him. He can't fail. “As for everyone, cover your damn noses, and protect your eyes as much as you can.”

“This won't kill us right?” Karl weighs the bag in his hands.

Miguel checks his bullets beside him, giving Hobie and Riri a once over if their weapons are lacking. “At most it'll make us sick and itch. Right, Hobie?”

“Just don't inhale it directly.” Hobie yanks his bandana up to his nose, fitting it snugly. He notices his hands shaking, closing his fists tightly, he cannot fail. A month of tracking you down can't end with him failing to save you, he can't lose you. “You know what to do, Karl. Ri go with him.”

“Hobie,” she clasps the back of his fist. “Be careful, alright? If you get hurt, call Roberto, he'll treat you.” Inhaling sharply, she pats his cheek. “Get her back but don't die on us, alright?”

Hobie couldn't look directly at Riri, “She goes first, Ri.”

“I know, that's why we brought Roberto with us, remember? He's the doctor, he knows what to do and…what to expect, if need be.”

Hobie nods, staring at his family. “Thank you for backing me up, I owe you. All of you.”

“Don't die and we're even, Hobie.” Miguel pats Hobie's bicep before heading to his designated position.

“What he said,” Karl smiles brightly, fist connecting to Hobie's clenched one gently. “Also if I don't return from this, Robbie's gonna fucking kill you, man.”

Hobie cracks a smile. “Yeah, I know. Try to stay alive for the both of us then.” Karl makes his way towards the front while Riri staggers behind, still holding onto Hobie's hand. “Just like Valentine, right?” Riri smiles, hiding her trepidation behind her bandana. He fixes the cloth over her face carefully, tugging it over her nose and ears. “Keep that snug.” She could only nod, eyes brimming with tears. “Don't die on us too, Ri.” With a quick embrace, she leaves, following behind Karl who was waiting for her.

Hobie takes a second to breathe. He has done things like this a hundred times before, but never with you on the line. He can't leave without you like last time. He won't cower behind wooden walls like last time, he's not gonna stand here and tremble and rot and bleed. He's going to get you back. He knows he will.

There's a gunshot echoing inside the estate just as when a glass window breaks, signaling the beginning of the end.

—

The house falls and chaos reigns. They tried to stick to their plan of using stealth, but of course someone saw them and alerted everyone in their presence. Karl got the oleander thrown inside the halls, puffs of pinkish fumes swell out from the bag. Hobie sees the result of it as black smoke turns the estate into the pits of hell. Hobie's eyes waters but he continues to strike anyone who wasn't on his side. He throws his spiked whip towards someone who tried to shoot at Karl, the barbed whip rakes and breaks skin as he tugs and pulls until the man falls down next to his shredded flesh.

Screams echo around the estate, his posse lets go of the innocent unarmed employees while the others aren't so lucky the second they aim back.

They try to fight their way inside, finally thinning the outlaws outside as flames trickle from the burning bag towards the velvet curtains. Embers climb up until they hit the ceiling, fire licking at the once white walls, leaving burn marks in its wake.

A few of the hired guns surrender after recognising Miguel's gang, some were fools who tried to shoot them down but his allies were in greater numbers. More experienced, more bloodthirsty than the hired guns.

All the winning cards are in his hand, all he needs to do is play them right.

“Miguel!” Hobie yells while he and three others try to push through the main doors that refuse to budge open.

Miguel, who was currently brawling with a man taller than him, grunts when a fists harshly connects at his jaw. Hobie curses under his breath, without wasting a second, he aims and shoots. Gunpowder fills his lungs once more as the burly man falls on top of Miguel in a thud.

Hobie stalks towards Miguel, he shoots someone who was aiming at him on his left, his bullet doesn't miss even without him looking at the target. He grabs the body by its vest, yanking it off Miguel.

“Get up,” he reaches for the breathless gang leader, hazel eyes smiling at his old friend.

“I had that, Hobie!” Despite his broken nose, Miguel is back on his feet the moment he takes Hobie's helping hand. “Retirement, huh?”

Hobie shakes his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Fuckin' retirement.” Reloading his gun, he goes back to the locked doors with Miguel now in tow. “On three!” His shoulders meet with the oak, “one!” Miguel nods next to him, bracing himself on the door. “Two!” A few more join in, ready to push the moment he says, “three!”

The doors burst open, splintering wood scattering, smoke coming out into the fray. Hobie meets with Sheriff Lee's eyes before a bullet hits him directly on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He falls on his knees, clutching his wound as blood seeps through his fingers.

“Should've left when you had the chance, Mr. Brown!” Lee taunts, reloading his hunting rifle, giving Miguel enough time to drag Hobie back outside and placed behind the wall. “Come back here, murderer!”

A few shots ring out, both parties exchanging bullets. Your face appears in front of him before it’s replaced by the doctor's face. He needs to get you out quickly before the oleander takes hold. Hands tie a bandana around his wound, Hobie stands up the second that the cloth is tightened.

“Keep that on!” Roberto yells above the booming gunfire. “I’ll fix you properly right after this!”

Hobie nods, blinking the haze away. Miguel shakes him awake while avoiding his injury. “Lee's down! We'll handle the rest down here, we heard that she's upstairs.”

“Okay,” Hobie inhales and exhales, I'm almost there, love.

When the bullets stop flying inside the now bullet ridden manor, he steps foot inside. Glass crunches at his feet, eyes darting and alert from any surprises. He sees bodies littered on the marble floors, both from his side and Lee's. The sheriff lays under a pile of broken vase, eyes wide open, fingers still enclosed around his gun. The smoke thickens, and he hears blasts reverberating around the house.

Miguel's posse storms the place, pocketing whatever shines inside the house. A few more bullets are shot from deep inside the walls, but it's clear who's the winner. Hobie just wants you back.

Just as when he's about to climb the winding stairs with his throbbing shoulder, he sees a man stagger out from a room. “Is that—?” The bloodied man in the hunting gear trips and falls off the railing, plunging down right next to where Hobie's standing.

Cross lays on his own puddle of rubies, a gaping hole in his stomach instead of his insides. “H-help me,” Begging, he looks at Hobie with his bloodshot eyes, reaching towards Hobie's leg with his broken hand. “She's upstairs. Y-you can have her.”

“Is that him?” Miguel asks, and Riri appears from the side. Eyes watching the wounded man. Hobie nods, eyes never leaving Cross.

Hobie aims at Cross' head, seething. “She is not a thing to be had.” His aim stays true, but he shakes his head, lowering his gun down. “Nah, I'll let her bullet kill you.”

Miguel smirks, while Riri and him have a silent communication. “Don't worry, Hobie, we got rich boy.” He takes out his lasso from his waist, crossing the distance towards the dying Cross.

Riri gestures for Hobie to continue up the stairs. “Go! We'll be waiting.”

With a grateful nod, Hobie runs up the stairs towards his fire and his light. His heavy footsteps echo, breathing staggered as he thinks of you. What if he finds you in the same condition as Cross? What would he do if he sees you bleeding out? So he runs despite his own injuries, to see you again, to hold you again.

He follows the blood trail once he gets close enough, instead of your smiling face greeting him back, he stares at your body covered in crimson. Soft blue bed sheets stained with dark rubies. Arms spread on the bed as you lay on the soft mattress with your eyes unblinking towards the ceiling.

Hobie calls for you, air sucked from his lungs with every step he takes. He reaches for you, tears turning you into a watercolor painting in his vision. Red and blues blending into a watery picture.

You feel like you're in the bottom of a well, staring up at your aunt's sneering face. Your breathing is labored while the bullet is stuck in your chest, right below your ribcage. There's no pain, no feeling in your fingers as you see Hobie's face appear from above. Head perfectly lined up with the deer antlers painted on the ceiling.

“Found the deer, Cross.” You murmur, eyes hazy, lips barely opening.

“Stay awake, love.” Hobie's hand trembles as he rips his bandana off to stave off the bleeding by plugging the wound. You cry from the sudden pain, hands flying towards his wrists. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” His tears flow down your cheek. “This'll be over, I need to carry you.”

“Hobie?” Your eyes focus on his face, meeting with his viridescent eyes. “Are you real?” Nails dig into his flesh, you sob, fingers shaking whilst you reach for his face. The pads of your fingers brush along his jaw, stubble returning you back to reality. “I'm so s-sorry, I should've told you.”

“None of that.” He holds onto the back of your hand, letting your palm rest on his cheek, lips brushing along your wrist. The matching rings reflect the growing fire ebbing towards the room.

“It h-hurts, Hobie.”

Sniffing, burning wood enters his lungs, sobs threatening to pull him down to you. “I know, I know.” He wipes the tears and the sweat off your forehead. “But we need to move, love, there's a fire and I need to carry you down.”

You gaze at his green eyes, sorrow and grief twisting and turning behind them. They remind you of home, of Clover, of Cherry and Bucky. And you remember your promise to him, an impossible promise that you will try to keep. But if it means that it's his end too, you have to break it. For his sake.

You grip his shoulders, Hobie notices how weak your hold on him is. “Okay, okay, carry m-me down.” There's a taste of copper in your mouth, lips coated in the bitter taste.

He nods, wiping his tears with his sleeves before sliding his hand behind your back, finding your warm blood sticking to the bedsheets. “I got you.” Whispering against your crown, he lifts you up mere inches away from the bed before you scream in agony. “‘m sorry!” He cries into your hair, your grip weakening even more.

“W-we can try again.” You slide your palm to his nape, “try again, Hobie.”

Hobie flicks his eyes towards you, the light behind your eyes is starting to dim. “Help!” He yells in desperation at the door, in hopes that someone comes bounding up the stairs. “Riri! Miguel! Anyone!”

Your heart breaks, “Hobie, Hobs.” Patting his chest, it's getting harder to breathe. “L-leave. Leave me here.” Hobie's already shaking his head. You smile softly at him, the best you could do despite your body dying. “You have to, you can't die here.”

“And you do?” He cups your face, “we still have forever to go, remember?”

He doesn't want you to come back as a dream anymore, or a shadow embracing him from behind; or a pain in his chest when he hears your name in his mind. He doesn't want your ghostly kiss to taste like ashes on his lips.

He doesn't want you to go.

“I'm sorry, I can't keep my promise. B-but you still can.” You weakly push down at his nape to feel his forehead against yours one last time. Your eyes are starting to close. “Live for me, would you?”

“No, please.” His palm slides right above your heart, feeling your heartbeat slow down. One last time, he yells for help. His throat burns as the ceiling above is engulfed in flames. No one comes to help. “I have to break my promise too, love.”

“Don't, please.”

“A life lived without you isn't a life well lived, remember?”

You accept death in his warm embrace. “I'll see you in a bit then.”

Flames engulf the room in its fiery destruction. Paint melting off the walls, wood and glass cracking under the pressure. And yet, he still holds on to you, lips pressed on your cold lips in a fleeting goodbye.

“Hobie!”

—

In the middle of nowhere sits the remnants of a farm with clovers growing all around it. Vines snaking along what remains of the farm house, and in those vines, pink hydrangeas grow and thrive amidst the cinders. And behind those darkened wood sits two graves with clovers growing on top of the soil. Two names are etched on simple limestone graves, they bear the same last name and same date of death.

Many travelers pass through the place without ever knowing the story behind the two graves. Seasons come and go, flowers bloom and wither. But only a few ever knew what used to stand on the emerald farm. What used to grow, what colour the house was, and who used to live in it. Stories were whispered and told but only a few truly knew the story behind it, few who came and visited and placed flowers on each of the graves.

And in those few, only three of them know that the once abundant farm where two graves were dug right under an oak tree, are empty.

The stories and the graves were enough to fool anyone left that wants to hurt either one of you to turn back and lament.

The true story lies behind the northern border, where pine trees grow up to the skies. Where snow and ice envelops the whole place. Where the two names etched on the gravestones in the empty farm now live.

“Stop bullyin’ your brother.” The dappled foal yelps, trotting away from his much bigger older brother. The dark horse with white splotches turns his bright blue eyes towards Hobie, huffing and puffing like an annoyed teenager. “Don't huff at me,” great, now he's the one talking to horses. “Go tell your dad not to have any more kids. Not my problem, junior.” The young horse rears, running towards the barn where Buckeye and Cherry sleeps.

Hobie leans on the fence, watching the sunrise on his expansive land. Horses and foals run around freely, feeling the cold gust of wind in their manes. A few sheep roam the grounds, while a pair of cows chew their way towards the fences. Snow-capped mountains rise up high in the background, white snow dusted along the rocks like sugar. While the trees dotted along the mountainside makes for the perfect scenic view. He pulls at his jacket closer to himself, fur tickling his nose as he breathes out puffs of smoke from the cold temperature. Winter’s coming, he can feel it in his joints as another breeze rolls in. He smiles in contentment when the air carries the sound of ducks quacking from their coop, and the smell of morning dew passing by. No more does the smell of fiery gunpowder graze his senses, and no sounds of bullets firing ringing in his ears.

He keeps his hat snug on his head, Clover runs by with her litter of puppies tugging along. And he feels you before you arrive by his side. A smile tugs on his lips, hand already reaching for your waist.

“What are you thinking about, cowboy?” You flutter your eyelashes, chin placed in his shoulder.

“That I have it good, too good.”

You give him a tender smile, leaning to kiss his jaw. “None of that. This isn't too good for you, you deserve all of this.”

“Too early to wallow, huh?” Hobie wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and then he twists around to face you fully, back leaning on the fence, admiring you in the bitter blue of dawn.

You find penchants on his sternum, nose nuzzling his scar. “So fucking early.” He laughs, music to your ears.

“Hard to get used to, huh?”

“Kind of, it's a good feeling though, waking up.”

“You feel okay, right?” His palm pats your chest gently where a scar lies. “No breathlessness? Nothin'?”

You sniff at the cool wind, “nothing, I'm fine, Hobie.” You cup his cheek, jaw rounded at the edges, scruff tickling you, he looks as if time hasn't passed. “Nothing to worry about.” He leans towards your touch, fingers bracelet around your wrist gently, lips meeting your skin. “You okay?”

“Never better, love.” His green eyes twinkle, free arm pulling you impossibly closer. “Especially today.”

You tilt your head playfully. “What's today exactly?”

“Cheeky,” he pokes your side. “You know what day it is.”

You feign realization. “Ah! I remember now, Riri and the gang are coming over.”

“Yes, and?” He grins, biting his lower lip, jade eyes crinkling at the corners. Seeing the matching rings on your finger and his own makes him smile wider.

You suck in your teeth, acting like you're thinking. “It's Bucky's birthday?” Hobie rolls his eyes with a chuckle, and you finally relent. “I know what day it is.” You lean away, taking out a letter addressed to Hobie from your pocket. It's filled with affectionate words, loving thoughts and everything in between. It's a love letter just for him. “Happy anniversary, Hobs.”

Hobie's chest fills with a sense of belonging, heart full with his love for you. He keeps the letter in his coat pocket, right above his heart. “Happy anniversary, lovie.” He pulls you back, you giggle as your palm hits his chest, fingers snaking up to his nape to guide him towards your waiting lips.

“Forgot something, cowboy?” You say against his lips, and he nudges your nose with his own.

You feel something grazing against your chin, and when you flick your eyes down, you see a letter written in his hand, addressed to you. You tamp down your excitement, snatching the envelope, giving it a peck and tucking it inside your jean pocket.

“Never, read it together like always?” He pecks your warm lips once, then twice before indulging himself in your warmth.

“Yes,” you utter, breathlessly. “But inside, your tea, and the girls are waiting.”

Hobie chortles, kissing you again before reluctantly pulling away. “They're awake?”

“They smelt breakfast.” You inhale, letting his sandalwood and mint scent waft over you with ease. “If you hurry, there might still be some left for you.” You begin to walk away, hand grasping his palm.

“Alright, just one more then we'll go.” He pulls you back to his chest gently as you giggle atop his lips. He kisses you like he did all those years ago.

In the middle of nowhere, his story begins. And in the middle of nowhere, his story ends with you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sticking around this long! Our beloved cowboy is finally happy and at peace 🥺 If you loved reading OPIN please consider reblogging ❤️

[fischltao]

╔══════════════╗

AOT SQUIRTING HEADCANONS

╚══════════════╝

request by: @multi-fandoms-stuff

"can I pretty request an imagine for aot eren, erwin, levi, connie, armin, jean, reiner, bertolt, ymir, and mikasa about them making there s/o squirt for the first time and there reaction, have the reader get all shy and trys to hide her face??"

notes: ahhh thank you so much for requesting, again im very sorry for the delay and late update, im back on writing now!

warnings: smut, squirting, overstimulation, bodily fluids

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Eren Jeager:

You and Eren have got it going on for a few hours with him and his titan stamina plunging into you without letting you rest for a minute. You haven't even kept track of how long it's been or how many times he's made you cum that night, only focusing on his cock stretching you open and the way he is holding your throat. It's not long until your next orgasm arrives but oh, this time it feels different and suddenly you're squirting all over him and his cock as he keeps fucking you deeper and harder.

"Eren, I need to clean up, Im so sorry I didn't know this would happen, oh my-" You wail while pushing your hands over your face but instead of him stopping he just snaps his hips against yours harder and says:

"No. You're doing it again" Needless to say, you do, indeed.

Erwin Smith:

On your break you had snuck inside Erwin's office to steal a couple of kisses which soon ended up with you laying on the table all over his paperwork and him taking out his emotions on your poor pussy, to the point where you swear someone's going to walk in with a noise complain- not just due to your loud moans- but also due to the fact that his unsteady table is repeatedly creaking on the wooden floor.

"Erwin, I'm so close, Erwin I-ERWIN" You scream as you realize what is actually happening and not being able to hold it in. Both of you are freaking the fuck out. On any other situation he would find this really hot and treat you so good for squirting on him but you just came all over important papers which needed to be delivered awfully soon and neither has zero idea of what the hell you're supposed to do now. You freaking out must have been even louder than your sex noises and now you're adamant that everyone heard.

This was a different walk of shame

Levi Ackerman:

He had just changed the sheets to your shared bedroom when you walked in half naked after your shower, instantly igniting something inside him. The past few weeks had been really tiring for both and the only way to take your exhaustion away was having you bounce on his cock until you were in tears and shaking.

"You're gonna cum baby? I'm so fucking close too" He whispered in your ear like a lullaby in-between heavy breaths as he moved your hair out of your face and locked his eyes with yours. His movements were so gentle and passionate until you both grew desperate for your release and soon he was guiding your hips faster and sloppier while smacking your ass. It wasn't long until you started shaking while he filled you up. After you both came down from your highs you gained awareness of your surroundings and immediately shrunk to yourself.

"What are you hiding away for?"

"You just changed the sheets"

"I can always put another ones" He said awkwardly as you tried to shift away from his lap, when he pulled you right back in "It would be a shame if i changed them while they're only this wet. We might as well just ruin them completely"

Connie Springer:

Sasha and Jean were sleeping on the couch next to you after a nice dinner and Connie was feeling really turned on, right from the start of the night when you felt his fingers creeping up inside your panties and circling over your clit before teasing their way inside.

"Can we at least go somewhere isolated? I feel bad for-" You choked trying not to make a sound as his finger where now dipping in and out of your cunt in a desperate need of feeling your walls clench around them "Connie-"

"It's too comfy here, try to be more quiet baby" He whispered back as he lifted your skirt and pushed his tip inside not letting it all in but rather slipping it in and then pulling out and rubbing on your clit until you felt yourself cumming. Hard.

You were trying so hard to not make a noise until you realized what actually happened and turned around to look at your boyfriend in shock with heat rising up your cheeks. This cheeky motherfucker was looking back at you with the biggest smirk before plunging his entire length inside. Definitely proud of himself... And you definetely have to clean up before a) Jean and/or Sasha wake up b) Captain Levi haunts your dreams.

Jean Kirschstein:

Jean and you had been sent on different expenditions for the week so it was safe to say that you really missed spending time with each other. And him inside you.

Once he closes his room's door he already has you pushed against the wall and taking you right there while standing up. Jean is the romantic type but missing you made him desperate for your touch. You were sure you were seeing stars at one point, the way he pressed against you was magnificent and it just kept getting better and better until you felt the bubble inside you burst and soon your juices were everywhere on the floor. Everywhere.

You instantly felt like hiding away and audibly apologized while he still fucked the shit out of you. Confused he started slowing down and voiced his concern over your sudden apology until he realized what went down and blushed. 'Thats it, its over' you thought. Suddenly the most unexpected thing happened. A huge smile crept on his face "I made you squirt! Oh my god you look so hot, I bet Eren would never be able to make a girl sq-" He exclaimed before you kicked his leg.

Armin Arlet:

Armin is such a sweet young man. He had you laid on the bed for him as he slowly fucked into you, gasping in between kisses and telling you just how much he loves you. Gaining more confidence in yourself your moans became louder and louder and soon his pace changed into sharp and quick thrusts.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train and cherished the way he was the one to make you scream and breathe like that. He felt so blessed that you chose him as the man to have inside your velvet walls and-

Why is the bed wet? Did the rain get through the wooden roof? Why are you trying to hide away? Armin genuinely had no clue.

"Is everything okay baby? Do you feel uncomfortable with the waters?" He asked as more color rose up to your cheeks, refusing to look in his eyes as you awkwardly tried to explain what had happened was not a leak in the roof "What did you say?"

"I squirted"

"Oh"

"Yes"

"This is way more exciting than a leaking roof...Way more"

Reiner Braun:

Reiner is an emotional man and it shows when you get intimate with each other. One time he has you on all fours, with a finger deep in your asshole as he rails your guts.

"Noone else can fuck you like that fuck- what is it baby, is there anyone else that will fuck you this good? Have you crying from their cock? Use your words princess come on" He gasped as his own tears were threatening to fall, seeking emotional validation as well as pleasure as you tried to form a coherent sentence while sobbing "Didn't think so darling, you're such a whore for me"

And in the heat of the moment the offspring of his actions and words erupted from your throat as a loud scream and your juices squirted all over his lap for the first time. The sighting made Reiner cum in an instant and neither had the energy to talk about it, until he embraced you tightly from behind and thanked you for allowing him to be with you and sharing your most vulnerable moment with him.

Berthold Hoover:

His cock felt so good as you bounced on it . In a way it was therapeutic and for the past 7 minutes you've been in this position you've felt constantly on the edge and your thighs burned until sweet release washed you over and soon you were clasping poor Bert's shoulders as you screamed and squirted all over him while he pulled his dick out of your spent pussy and slapped its head on your clit as he watched more liquid come out.

After your orgasm died down a little, instant shame washed over you and you tried hopping away before he hugged you tightly and swayed you without realizing that hes accidentally rubbing you on his cock again and that you are about to pass out....

Ymir:

Ymir is a big tease. A really big one. Proof being her refusing to finally push her fingers inside your soaked slit, instead choosing to just rub up and down while slipping half an inch inside before you grew desperate and moved your own fingers to your clit and rubbing vigorously.

"Fuck" You heard her exclaim before plunging two of her fingers inside "Don't stop touching yourself baby, wanna make you cum like that" She commanded as her fingers dove in and out as fast as she could while you screamed under her touch. Your orgasm came fast and before you knew it, Ymir was soaking wet with your juices . "Never knew my girl could squirt, makes me wish I ate you out instead" She says before diving in.

Mikasa Ackerman:

It was a quiet night with Mika as you laid on your bed next to each other. Your conversation ended with your fingers in her pussy and hers in yours. Both struggled with the pace as you chased your release and her moans in your ear caused you to lose control and instantly let go and clench around her fingers as clear liquid soaked the sheets right beneath you and she turned her head to look at you in awe.

"I'm so sorry Mikasa I didn't know this would-"

"Do you think I can do this too?" She asked with flushed cheeks and an innocent look on her face.

"Eh? Squirt?" You asked and before she had the chance to nod you took out the dildo from your drawer and plunged it deep into her dripping pussy.

[srslysierraa]

Here me out, Zenitsu x Gramp’s Granddaughter! Reader

Reader got taken in by her grandfather, Jigoro Kuwajima (aka “Gramps”) after her parents died. But dispite Gramp’s best attempts (Making Zenitsu train harder/longer or having his granddaughter fetch something very specific for him), he could not stop them from somehow falling in love.

When Zenitsu was getting ready to depart for the final selection exam, she made a promise to him that if he made it back from there and managed to kill fifteen or demons in the span of six months, she would marry him/become his girlfriend (she only said that to him to motivate him, she would have married him even if he didn’t meet the deadline)

Lotus-anon🪷

Cheerleader.

prompt ;; zenitsu never knew about his potential, despite you and your gramps seeing it. You know he can do better, and maybe, all he needs is a little push?

type ;; fluff, comfort | one-shot

chars. involved ;; zenitsu | gramps

a/n ;; i love this, a lot actually. Because honestly I'd do the same HAHAHA yes boo you'll get extra kisses if you cut off that demon's head!!! You go baby get into it!!! 💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻 okay but in all seriousness, thanks to the anon for requesting, this is gonna be fun!

"50 MORE, ZENITSU." Your gramps had yelled out, standing by the side with his cane as the poor blonde headed boy laid almost lifelessly on the ground, most likely sobbing. "50?! I'M GONNA DIE, GRAMPS! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Again, the yelling and screams just kept on coming. But you'd be lying if you say that this is something new, at this point you're used to all this. And even find their little banters quite endearing, though as your gramps would sometimes hit Zenitsu to tell him where he went wrong.

You finally gave the small bucket of warm water and a towel to your gramps, Jigoro Kuwajima, a former Hashira of the Demon Slayers. A sneaking suspicion sometimes crosses your mind on why he would give you all these random errands whenever Zenitsu's near, almost as if making sure that you won't have time to talk to him. Maybe it's his overprotective-ness? He does think of you as his own now, raising you like his own granddaughter, quite nosy on the things you've done when you head to town. Or who you've talked to when you're there. As if he's going to eliminate any threats when it comes to you.

Of course, he doesn't think of Zenitsu as a threat, barely actually. It's exactly because he hasn't shaped himself yet. If gramps is going to leave you with anyone, he'll make sure it'll be with someone who is able to protect you at all costs. But you could care less, because honestly? He treats you greatly, and it's obvious just how head over heels Zenitsu is for you, just like how you are for him, without gramps knowing.

"Gramps, i think he's had enough for today, don't you think he's been training a little too long than usual?" You finally spoke out, pointing to the poor boy who looks like his soul has left his body, tear streaks down his face. "Sh-she's right! Gramps please! I really can't take this- I'm going to die!" With both of you tag teaming him, finally he sighed. Turning his cane along as he walks the other way, all while saying; "Fine! We'll be having a break, but we'll be continuing this later. Zenitsu, clean yourself with the towel."

Of course, Zenitsu almost bursts with tears of joy. Clinging onto you for dear life as he shouts his thankyous for 'saving' him, or so he says. Referring to you as an angel, heavensent, perfect, best girl he's ever known. You can't help but grew flustered due to all the titles he's giving you, and in return you had him sit down by one of the trees. Towel in hand dipped in the bucket of warm water, slowly gliding it over his obviously bruised up and dirty face. Gently cleaning it for him.

Soft mumbling were heard from the male. "You're so perfect- please, please, please marry me! I'll be a good husband, i swear! I'll take care of you! Just accept my marriage proposal.." and in response, well, you only continued taking care of him with a smile. Holding his head in place as you wipe away the dirt and tears, careful not to hurt him further. "I'll think about it.."

Ever since then? He's been trying his hardest, day and night pushing his limits until he eventually tires out and lets out his emotions. Even as you sleep you could distantly hear the door creaking open to see a Zenitsu slowly stepping his way out, most likely to train again before he gets too tired and decides to call it a day. It makes you feel nice, knowing that a few things you've said to encourage him actually got him to do his best.

And gramps realizes this. It's no brainer to know that you two are in love, and despite his best efforts to separate you two, it's quite obvious that it must be fate. Alas, he steps aside, giving you two more time to bond over things, and hopefully bloom into something more. Especially with the way the final selections are nearing.

"Everything that you've trained will help you survive, keep an eye out. We'll be praying for you." The elder's voice rung out as he watches over Zenitsu, who's been shakily preparing for his trip. Blade by his side and his palms clapped together in a prayer, wishing on anything and everything to be by his side, to guarantee him safety, to help him stay alive. His current state is.. not optimal, to say the least. But that's nothing surprising when compared to how he usually is, and you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

A comforting hand reached over to the blonde's arm, which only made him jump in response, before immediately relaxing once he realizes it's you. "Calm down, Zenitsu." You told him, in the softest voice you could muster. Soon you gave him a simple little lunch pack, which is basically 3 onigiris wrapped with a clean fabric. You'd give more but.. it'll probably be harder to bring around as he slays demons. "Sorry it isn't much.. and please, stay safe."

His eyes softened as he observes you, the way you move, act. You were worried, your heartbeat tells him that you pray for his safety, and he can't help but feel the need to live and go back to your arms even more. "I'll.. try my best, (Y/n). I promise you that."

The rest of the day was filled with gramps giving him small advices on how to deal with different types of demons, which only scared him further. But even then, he forced his feet to walk to where he should go, despite them feeling like they're shackled to buildings with how heavy they are. An urge came over you, and for some reason you found yourself running just a bit towards him before screaming your lungs out. Did you forget he has heightened hearing?

"KILL A LOT OF DEMONS, OKAY? MAYBE TEN, TWELVE, FIFTEEN, OR MORE! AND- AND AFTER THAT, I PROMISE TO MARRY YOU ONCE YOU'RE BACK!" It's unnecessary if you're being honest, even gramps was taken aback, yet you couldn't care less. You'd marry him either way, but you need to do anything you can in order to push him more so he can come back alive into your embrace. "SO PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE BE SAFE! PLEASE SURVIVE!"

Without even realizing, a tear had ran down his cheek. That was the confirmation he always wanted, the thing he always wished for. He wanted to ran after you, but his legs froze, and he knew he couldn't waste time. And so Zenitsu only waved back, as high as much as possible, before wiping his tears away with each step he went forward. "You heard her... Survive, i need to survive." If he was driven to come back before, he's sure as hell not letting ANYTHING get in his way of staying alive now.

zenitsu appreciation post of the day:

[oblivious-nuisance]

—𝐌𝐒𝐁𝐘 𝟒 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝

↳ includes: miya atsumu, bokuto kōtarō, hinata shoyō, sakusa kiyoomi

a/n: my emotional support plant died today and i'm crushed. so this is more self-indulgent and overdramatic than ever but, if anyone else's in this situation, please come join my pity party. let's cry together.

warnings: gn!reader, is this classified as angst?? fluff + hurt/comfort, bokuto cries at some point :((

— ATSUMU

the one who's trying to lift you up with his stupid jokes and comforting words

"baby? what's wrong?"

atsumu's eyebrows are furrowed as you step into the kitchen, eyes red and puffy from crying.

"my plant died." you sob pathetically, looking at your boyfriend through your lashes.

he bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to smile, but you saw the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scruntched.

"i swear to god, 'tsumu, if you're gonna start laughing at me–"

"'m not gonna, 'm not gonna i promise!" he started waving his hands in front of himself, getting up from where he was sitting at the table, walking towards you to envelop your smaller body in a tight hug, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"s'okay, honey, s'okay. they're in a better place now. look on the bright side, they won't have to go through the torture of bearing with our karaoke nights anymore!"

"are you trying to say that i don't know how to sing, atsumu?" you lift your head up to look into his eyes, sniffling in the process.

"hey, stop givin' me that look, i said our karaoke nights, okay?"

"doesn't make me feel better, y'know." you speak as you start pouting, eyes drifting away from his face to stare out the window behind him, heart still heavy in your chest.

"love? c'mon, look at me."

he grabbed your face gently so that you would look into his big eyes, and stared back at you with such intensity that it sent chills down your spine.

"i'm sad that yer little friend died, but there's nothin' you can do about it now. instead, try to ask yourself why did this happen, and what you should change so it doesn't happen again next time. plus, you've got me to take care of, don't ya? am i not a handful already?" he smiled down at you, sending a wink your way.

"you're truly impossible." you groan, resting your head in defeat back in its previous spot, smiling slightly to yourself as the habitual banter with your lover brought you back from that miserable state you've been in prior to the conversation.

— BOKUTO

the one who starts crying along with you, helping you let it all out

"sweetie, how about helping me out with– oh my god are you okay? baby? what's wrong, why are you crying?" bokuto said as he stumbled into the living room, rushing to kneel before you as you were sitting on the couch, grabbing you cheeks with his big, warm hands.

"my–" you hiccup midway, freaking your boyfriend out even more. "my plant died today." you finally say, fresh tears running down your cheeks and onto the pads of his fingers.

"oh no, no, for real? but they were so small and green and pretty!" he pouted, golden eyes becoming glassy by the second.

"i know, right? it's my fault, i should've watered it more..." your voice became small, eyes looking up at the man before you, realising that he was seconds away from shedding a few tears himself.

"baby, please don't say that, please, you're gonna make me cry..."

too late, you thought as you bit your lip, watching kōtarō as he started sniffling.

"oh baby, wait, wait, hey..." you pull him into your arms, having his head rest on your chest as you started to soothe him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

as you kept whispering encouraging words in his ear, you realised that your mood from before dissapeared, being replaced with love and softness for your empathetic boyfriend.

you smiled weakly and kissed his head, while his breathing started to ease against your warm body.

— HINATA

the one who's shushing you, kissing your forehead before cuddling with you for the rest of the night

shoyō entered your shared apartment and stopped in his tracks, his ears picking up sobs and whimpers coming from the bedroom.

"babe? something wrong?"

no answer, but the crying didn't stop, so he marched towards the bedroom, grocery bag long forgotten in the hallway.

"hi, what's going on pumpkin?" he asked as he entered the room, only to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, hands covering your face as you cried.

you turned your head towards hinata, puffy features greeting him as he rushed to your side, a strong hand already snaking around you to hold you by the waist.

"m–my plant died today." you finally sob, head turned to burry in the crook of hinata's shoulder.

"oh no, poor baby." he sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "cry, it's okay. let it all out. i've got you, my baby, i'm here."

you sobbed silently in the comfort of his arms as hinata didn't let go of you, holding you in place until you calmed down a little.

you finally lifted your head up, eyes locking with his softened gaze, the one that always warmed your cheeks up and made you swoon.

"wanna lie down, babe? it's pretty late anyway, so how about we cuddle and listen to some music, hm?"

"sounds good to me, but i'm choosing the record this time." you say as you get up and head towards the old record player that was resting against the beige wall, the small wooden table underneath housing all of the records that you owned on the shelf between its legs.

"not if we both agree on elvis."

you turn around to him and smile, the first genuine smile of the day.

"you've got yourself a deal."

— SAKUSA

the one who's littering your face with kisses, buying you a new plant first thing in the morning

kiyoomi didn't know how to react at the sight before him.

he just wanted to wash his hands after he came home, but found you sitting on the bathroom floor instead.

"love? what's wrong, talk to me." he asked as he gently kneeled next to you, his large frame feeling somehow out of place in the small, dimly lit bathroom.

"my plant died this morning..." you murmur quietly as more tears escaped from your eyes, rolling down the apples of your cheeks and landing into your lap.

omi exhaled and moved to sit right next to you, personal space be damned as he took your face in his hands, calloused thumbs rubbing your cheeks reassuringly.

you leaned into his touch, cheeks squishing against his palms as he started kissing every available spot on your face, leaving the skin flushed in its wake.

as he tilted his head back to look at you, your features were tingling and burning, the sensation both familiar as ever and thrilling as if it had no precedent.

sakusa started speaking tenderly.

"your empathy is otherworldly, angel." he strengthened his point with a wet kiss delivered to your forehead. "here, how about we go plant shopping tomorrow? i'm pretty sure you've been meaning to add a ficus in the bedroom for a while. and, just to be sure that we get something that lasts, let's also look for a cactus while we're at it."

"what's with you obsessing over cacti, hm?"

"hmm, lemme think. maybe it's because i relate to them in a spiritual way, almost?"

"could be, yeah. which means that i'll be taking care of it, since i'm used to seemingly grumpy fellas with an attitude and a big heart."

kiyoomi beamed at you, content with how your morale was slowly coming back to you.

"certainly, babe."

©oblivious-nuisance - all rights reserved

no translations, edits, copying, reposting etc.

[aelinchocolatelover]

HOLY SHIT

I'M LITERALLY SPEECHLESS RIGHT NOW, it's amazing that I knew that she was Aelinbut when Lorcan said "Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Galathynius, a girl long since presumed dead to the world and everyone that loved her" I gasped! Literally screaming, crying and throwing up, this was so good!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK EMILY

Let me decompress a little about that ending, I'll come back to it in a moment but let me talk about Aelin and Rowan for a moment.

When Aelin said she would do anything to trade places with them, that she wished she had died that night so all her friends could have been alive?!?!? CRYING, LITERALLY SOBBING! ALEXA PLAY RUNNING UP THAT HILL (A DEAL WITH GOD) LIKE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 my baby have been through so much already is so upsetting that she still is going through shit and It doesn't look like it's getting easier anytime soon, but PLEASE give her a happy ending is all I ask

Also, I was crying when she talked about that night with Rowan, I love how comfortable she feels with him enough so she can be so vulnerable and talk about a night she has never confided with anyone, not even herself because she has kept those memories buried deep down, it literally broke my heart when she said she never had time to properly grieve and process that loss and the trauma that that night brought to her life, it's so sad that she never was given a moment to find closure especially since her life ever since that day have been filled with loss and trauma if she ever stopped to grieve she wouldn't be able to keep on going, so she never did and now with Rowan she's finally letting herself feel and oh it's sad and I'm crying and I hope my girl gets a happy ending and can go process all that trauma with help that she deserves

She's been through so much I'm literally crying What the fuck!!! What have you done to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also I love how gentle Rowan is with her, how he understands what she's saying even if she doesn't know how to phrase the words properly, he just knows, he's there to her, so she can cry on his shoulder and clean her nose and hug her and help her breathe when the weight of her trauma gets too much that she can't breathe anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Now back at that ending Lorcan remembering that night when Rowan let it slip that her name was Aelin!!!! I don't know what Lorcan will do with this new information but I do hope he helps her at some point, even if he does it by the end like in "if I had a soul to steal" but I need him to help her at least once even if for his wife, it's your wife's best friend mate come on 😭😭😭

Also... one of the murders being Cairn... it doesn't really make my theory that Maeve somehow is behind the murders even if just by mandating it and not getting her hands dirty any less plausible, I mean Cairn and Maeve are generally involved right?!?!? I'm gonna go crazy by the end of this fic, I swear 😭😭😭😭😭

IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. I didn't mean for this to go a whole year without an update. I'm so sorry. I hope this 4.5k chapter makes up for it somehow <3

masterlist // fafs masterlist // rowaelin

As soon as he took that first deep breath upon waking up, Rowan knew he was being watched. Maybe that was thanks to all his years as an agent for the bureau, or perhaps it had to do with the months he had spent with Aelin that had honed that instinct into a sharp blade. Regardless of what had made him develop the sixth sense, he knew that when he opened his eyes to the soft light filtering through the cracks of the curtains, there would be a golden gaze pinning him to the bed.

Instead of looking at her, he reached across the bed to rest his hand on her thigh. Rowan could tell she was sitting with her legs folded up like a pretzel, her hands in her lap while she watched him. He moved a fraction of an inch closer until he could easily press his lips to the spot just above her knee. 

"Rowan?" The tentative sound of her voice had him cracking open an eye to look up at her face. A deep crease was set between her brows while she worried her bottom lip in thought.

"What has you awake so early?" This soon after waking, the lilt of his accent was heavier, his tone deeper and more gravelly than usual. 

"It wasn't you, right?" 

"Baby–" he started, pushing himself up on his good arm to a sitting position. He shifted so they were sitting knee to knee, one of his legs dangling over the side of the bed so he could move closer to her. Aelin looked away as she licked her lips before shaking her head. "Look at me, love."

 "I know. I know you didn't; I just–" Her eyes found his again, and she huffed out a sigh. It sounded like she had been carrying it in her lungs for years. "Somebody found out. They found out, and they told her. But everyone I know is dead except for Elide and Gavriel, and they think I'm dead. Even if Gav put it together, I can't see him spilling everything to Maeve before talking to me to see what the hell happened to me all those years ago." 

Digging her palms into her eyes, she took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Rowan counted the seconds, his thumbs brushing in soothing circles over her tan skin. It was something he had been thinking about non-stop since everything exploded in the bureau lobby. Even as the bullet pierced his shoulder, he tried to make sense of everything that had come to light. 

How had Maeve known? It definitely hadn't been Gavriel. At the very least, her uncle would have approached him before going to Maeve. It didn't make any sense for him to find his long-lost and assumed-dead niece and go straight to his boss. Rowan knew firsthand that the deaths of his sister-in-law and her husband had plagued him. He was one of the few people that Gavriel had ever talked about it with, him and Aedion never having fully given up hope that maybe she was out there somewhere. It wasn't something he voiced frequently. Those admissions came after everyone else had left the bar, and it was just the two of them sharing a beer in silence after a difficult case. No, it definitely hadn't been Gavriel. 

Who then? Aelin was right. Essentially everyone from her childhood was dead now. All her confessions had happened in places where he knew they weren't being recorded. By that time, he himself had become paranoid enough that he checked all the pens in his pockets, his cufflinks, and the buttons of his shirts, even to ensure nobody had slipped a device somewhere in his clothes. If they had been recorded, it would have been inside his apartment. But he would have known about that, too. He checked regularly and had frequency blockers hidden in every room.

If working for the bureau taught him anything, it was to always be on your guard and that a healthy dose of paranoia kept you from being surveilled. 

There was Elide, but Rowan had a strong feeling that any of her suspicions would have ended with Lorcan beating down his door in the dead of night in search of the truth. She wasn't even an option, not really. 

Who, then? Had Arobynn Hammel let the truth slip to Maeve before his heart had been ripped from his chest? Did Maeve have eyes and ears everywhere that whispered back to her, even when they were sure no one was listening? It seemed far-fetched, but he knew his boss had her moments of being ruthless. But if she'd known the truth since Arobynn, why did she wait so long to tell Aelin she knew? The window of when she found out and when she spoke with Aelin had to have been a small one. Nothing else quite made sense. 

Rowan looked back at the woman he loved, her eyes fixed on his face while he processed every bit of information they knew. All he could do was shake his head and rest his brow against hers. 

"I don't know. I wish I could give you more than that, but where it stands right now, I have no fucking idea. We will figure it out– all of it. Who told her, what kind of jeopardy it puts you in, what our next steps are. We will figure it out together."

There was a determination in her eyes that was admirable. And though he could tell she wanted to push back about something that he'd said– he had no idea which part– she nodded slightly and repeated, "Together."

 ~*~

Hours later, Aelin was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Despite a warmer day outside, a fire flickered in the fireplace. Watching the flames dance and twine around one another was a welcome reprieve from the near-constant headache she'd had for the last few days while trying to make sense of everything. 

In the kitchen, Rowan hummed quietly while preparing dinner. The aroma of garlic, basil, and lemon was strong throughout the cabin. It felt bizarre that this felt like the most normal night she had ever experienced in her whole life. The sounds of dinner being prepared, a man she loved making everything with care. The reality was that it was the furthest from normal, considering she was on the run from the FBI. It was only a matter of time before she was found, captured, and dumped into a prison cell for the rest of her life. It made her stomach turn to know that the same thing would happen to Rowan for harboring a fugitive of her caliber and committing treason. 

"I don't understand how this has become my life," she said aloud, and Rowan ceased his movements. The water turned on, followed by the sound of him washing and drying his hands before lowering his body to the floor beside her. "I don't mean I don't understand exactly how I ended up here. I understand that part. What I don't understand is how my life got here."

"You mean how you ended up an assassin in the first place." He shifted to drop his arm around her shoulder, and Aelin quickly turned into him, resting her face against his chest. It always surprised her when he understood what she was trying to say, even if the words were twisted and confusing on their way out of her mouth.

"How did I go from living in a mansion surrounded by family and friends, my father gearing up for a presidential run, having tea parties with my very best friends, or running through bonfires on Beltane with flowers in my hair to this?"

"What do you remember about that night?" The night she'd spent so much time running from, one that her brain had blocked out almost entirely. Aelin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes still locked on the flames as she chewed on it for a moment.

"Not much," she admitted. "I've never talked about it out loud to anyone before, either. But it really isn't much."

"Do you want to go over what you do remember with me? Maybe something will spark, and we can work backward to figure out what is happening now." Only with Rowan would she ever talk about it, the night that ruined her life. Perhaps she had emerged from the ashes like a phoenix, but everything she had wanted to be before died that night. So she had become something else entirely. Something horrible that her friends and family would be ashamed of and would judge. But he wouldn't. 

Aelin turned so she was leaning against the couch, her arm propped on the cushion with her fist against her temple. Rowan mirrored her body language, reaching out to lace the fingers of their free hands. A silent reminder that he was there, he understood her, and he would follow this path with her to whatever end it may have. The thought alone made her want to cry, but she swallowed her emotions.

"The night that my parents were murdered, I was sleeping upstairs in my bed. Every night I went to sleep snuggled in a mountain of stuffed animals. Most of them came from when my dad went on business trips. He always brought one back for me. I had to have at least twenty stacked on top of my bed, dozens more littered around my room. I rotated them out frequently so that none of them would feel lonely having to sleep by themselves." Rowan's lips had curved into the smallest of smiles, his thumb making circles on the back of her hand. He was there. He had her. She was not alone, and she would not be afraid. 

"I remember having a hard time falling asleep that night. I'd been to my parent's bedroom twice because I thought I heard things. It was a big house; it made a lot of noise. My mom repeatedly promised me that everything was okay, and she and my dad tucked me back into bed. I remember still feeling unsettled and scared. Like something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I couldn't place my tiny finger on it then, but I would hold my breath to see what I could hear in the silence. Once, I heard soft voices, which my mom said I was just hearing the two of them talking downstairs. I heard footsteps, but again, they were still up and getting ready for bed. I was just hearing them." 

 Aelin paused then, tears already filling her eyes and threatening to slip down her cheeks. Not once had she said any of this out loud. Nobody had ever heard this part. With Rowan, she could do this. She could say it aloud despite her throat burning from trying to suppress her emotions. Maybe it was time she let them out. Had she ever really grieved? Those first few weeks at the keep, maybe. But Arobynn had quickly shut down her wildfire range of emotions some months into her training when he decided she should be over it by now. With a deep breath, she found it in herself to continue. 

"I slept a little bit that night, but it was that kind of sleep where you hear everything around you. Somewhere between being awake and dreaming. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But I heard my mother begging someone. Her voice had so much raw fear; I will never forget how it cracked when she said my name. As scared as I was, you think you're invincible as a child, you know? So I snuck downstairs, tip-toeing down the hallway to their bedroom. And then I just… froze. There was enough moonlight to see my dad completely limp on the bed. Something dark was on his skin and the sheets, running down his arm and pooling on the floor. His eyes were staring at nothing. 

A man had my mom's hair gathered in his hand; her head pulled back with a gun to her temple while she begged and begged. But she wasn't begging for herself; she was pleading that he let me go. Over and over, she just kept saying let my baby live, please don't hurt her. And then she saw me standing at the door, and the last thing she said was my name before the gun went off. I have never heard anyone's voice sound so panicked and full of terror. My mom slumped against my dad, and then I turned and ran. At some point, I slipped, banged my head on the ground, and I don't know what happened after that."

Aelin only realized she had fully begun to sob when Rowan pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. While she was talking, she had registered the sounds of gasping, sharp breaths, and broken words, but it hadn't registered that it was coming from her. When she started talking, it all started pouring out. One broken word after another until her shirt was soaked with tears. On the one hand, it felt so good to finally get it out and tell someone what had really happened that night. On the other, it shattered her into a million pieces to recount those events. 

The papers had gotten it all wrong. Most of them said it had been a quick assassination. Aelin didn't know how fast it had happened for her father, but the man that killed her mother had stood there and listened to her begging for her daughter's innocent life for long enough that Aelin had made her way downstairs and heard the end of it. That she saw the end of it. That it was burned into her brain no matter how hard she tried to shut those images out. 

Aelin still had nightmares about it. 

Rowan didn't say anything for a long while, just holding her and stroking her hair while she let out every emotion she had kept locked in an iron cage in the back of her mind. Emotions she had been trained to keep a firm hold on for nearly her entire life. Arobynn used that against her, beating her down until she had become distant and cold. Only when she had met Rowan did any of it start to slip out, and she had spent months hating herself for it. Aelin had always known from the time she started to get to know him that he would be her unraveling one way or another. He would either throw her in prison or make her feel alive again. At the time, she couldn't decide which was worse. 

"I know that there were two men. I saw a second one when I turned to run. But after that, I didn't know anything else until I woke up in a bed in the keep. Arobynn never talked about how I fell under his 'care.' For a while, I thought it was just an orphanage. That I had been found and taken there while I was unwell. It didn't click until I was a few years older that it certainly wasn't the case because I would have woken up in a hospital before I got taken anywhere, and then I would have been taken to my aunt and uncle. I just remember seeing all these papers about how I was missing and presumed dead. Arobynn would show me news footage of Aerin and Gavriel begging for someone to just let them know where my body was so they could bring me home."

Her tears felt cool against her flushed cheeks, even as Rowan chased every one of them away with calloused fingertips. The memories of her aunt, uncle, and cousin standing on the porch of their home, desperately asking for her return. They hadn't known if it would be her alive and well, or if it would be her dead body. It had not mattered. Her family just wanted her back. Wanted to keep or safe or lay her to rest next to her parents. The image of Aedion's young, tear-streaked face floated to the front of her mind, followed immediately by his unseeing eyes the day she had shown up at the crime scene to find him dead. 

It was all too much. The murder of her parents, her upbringing to become the underworld's most deadly assassin, that she was now everything her parents hated about the world. All of her friends that now lay six feet under simply because they were tied to her in some way. 

The guilt had been gnawing at her bones since it all started. Aelin would give absolutely anything to trade places with them. The cost didn't matter. It would have been better if she were the one that was dead because if she had died that night, at least everyone she loved would still be breathing. 

Throughout the years, Aelin had kept tabs on each of them, knowing they would do incredible things. They all had done their best to put something good back into the world. Dorian was nothing like his father, doing what he could to speak out and back his words up with actions to pave a better way for the rest of the world. Aedion had spent countless hours working with underprivileged youth in Big Brother programs right up to his death. Even Sam was taking steps to better his life until he was killed for trying to run with her.

Nehemia… gods, the things she could have done if her life hadn't ended so shortly. She had been a beacon of hope to so many, her charity work speaking for itself. It was only about doing everything she could to help people in need, including raising money through the Lotus Foundation, one her parents had helped her create to build housing in underdeveloped parts of their home country, Eyllwe. 

Yet she was the one still living. She who had taken countless lives, that had so much blood caked onto her soul she would never be clean. It didn't matter what she did going forward; it didn't matter the circumstances of how it all happened. Aelin was the one that lived, and she had brought so much shame upon everyone in her life. 

There were no bright sides to her friends being dead. That she would never have to face them, never have to tell them the truth, though… She was too much of a coward to ever have looked any of them in the eye after the life she had been forced into.

"Do you remember anything about the men that killed your parents? What they looked like?" Rowan's voice stirred her from her thoughts, soft, deep, and lilting. His thumbs still brushed the tears that fell from her cheeks. 

"The men Maeve captured and convicted were the ones that did it. I know that for sure. I could never forget Cairn's face. His accomplice is harder for me to piece together, but he confessed after Cairn ratted him out to avoid the death penalty. I only saw him for a brief moment before I fell. If the wrong people had been convicted, I would have hunted them down and killed them myself." And she would have. Those lives would have been two of the few she held no remorse over, and it wouldn't have been quick. It would have lasted long enough until some of the grief had eased in her chest. Until she wasn't so scared to look back on her childhood memories anymore. 

"That case got her the appointment for FBI Director." Rowan lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the snot gathered in her nose and upper lip. 

"She deserved it for that. Even though I had just turned nine, I was hyper-aware of what my life was turning into by that point. And seeing justice brought down on them… it brought some relief. Not much, but enough to know they were behind bars. I would have preferred the death penalty for them both, but at least there was a confession." Aelin shrugged her shoulders. It was true. She would have killed them after her arrest if she had been in the same prison. Clearly, the gods had other plans for her, though. 

"Is there anything else you can piece together?"  

"Right now, no. But if I have any eureka moments, you'll be the first and only one to know." 

Aelin had been waiting for Rowan's apology. The one that came from a place of empathy, that made her feel like she was pitied. But it never came. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. The gesture said more than words ever could. That he understood, that he hated the shitty hand life had dealt her, that he stood with her. That he was there.

And that meant more to her than any words ever could.

~*~

Whitethorn had been right. In the days after Sardothien's arrest, he had gone on and on about how it was too convenient. It didn't make sense that she was just a whisper in the wind and suddenly became so sloppy in her work that boxes of evidence had, literally, been dropped on the steps of the FBI headquarters. 

Raking through every piece of information that they had on her, he could see that clear as day. For years their department had chased a ghost, someone quick and silent. There had never been a drop of her own blood, a single hair that fell off her head. No fingerprints, no saliva. None of her DNA packed under someone's fingernails from a struggle. They didn't even have proof that it was her at all, actually. They only knew that the legendary assassin was a woman based on one witness account, and the woman had been so old and frail and unsure of her account that it would have been inadmissible in court. 

All of her alleged crime scenes had been scoured with a fine-toothed comb. They knew it was murder; that much was clear. But Celaena Sardothien had dozens of aliases, hundreds maybe. He was sure of that. Yet the "proof" they had received in a box full of her fake passports and IDs seemed too good to be true. None of them led them anywhere; it was like she'd never touched them, never used them at any point. Anyone could pay someone to make fake identification, and what they found in those boxes was so blatantly fake that it wouldn't fool anyone. 

Her case was a puzzle that he was dying to solve. Usually, he loved cataloging evidence that led to a trial. Sure, they would have to find and capture her again before she saw her day in the courtroom, but he enjoyed this part of the work. Except for right now, when not a single loose thread took him anywhere at all. The woman simply did not exist. 

With tired eyes, he pushed away the file he'd been reading and turned to another that kept him up at night. Lorcan wasn't usually so personally invested in the cases they solved, but the look in Gavriel's eyes when he found out his son had been murdered still haunted his nightmares. The sounds of the sobs that broke free from his throat were the sounds of a soul dying. Gavriel had loved his son with everything he had, and Lorcan almost couldn't forgive himself for having to be the person that broke the news. 

Flipping open the Ashryver file, he scanned the evidence log and accompanying photos. When he got to the images of Aedion's lifeless body, he started to flip faster, not needing to see the pictures to remember them in vivid detail. 

 Just as he was about to skip the last one, a close-up shot of his face and neck, Lorcan's fingers froze against the glossy page. In the photo, Aedion's glassy eyes stared at the cloudy sky. Eyes that were a bright turquoise, his pupil rimmed with gold. They were dimmer now than they had been while he was alive, but…

But he knew those eyes. Not just because they were a strong trait of the Ashryver gene pool but because he had looked into them himself. Yes, he had met Aedion several times at various get-togethers and holiday parties. But his eyes were identical to a different pair he'd become all too familiar with for the last several months.

Then there was his face. Gavriel's son favored him strongly, but there was a softness in his features that he had spent months looking at on a different face. A woman's face. The same shade of golden hair, though in these photos, it was sticky with dried blood. 

Lorcan pulled his laptop closer to him, quickly opening a tab and sending his fingers flying across the keyboard. It was probably the fastest he had ever typed, and he had never been so impatient for the single second it took to get hundreds of images back from the search result. 

He clicked on the third photo down, one of a small family standing on a stage. The man and woman waved to the crowd while the young girl beamed where she stood between them. No older than seven, her little hands clasped her mother and father's tightly. 

Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius pictured with their daughter, Aelin, on Vice President Galathynius's presidential campaign trail in Perranth. 

A few weeks ago a conversation of Lorcan arguing with Rowan about Celaena's involvement in Elide's attack had him pushing back from his chair. Ice slithered up and down his spine, blood turning cold as he recalled one specific thing that Rowan said to him that he hadn't caught in the moment because he was so upset and worried about his fiancee's life. 

Rowan had called her Aelin. Said that Aelin didn't have anything to do with what happened to Elide. He vividly remembered feeling bothered by the conversation afterward, that there was something between the lines that Rowan hadn't been saying plainly with words, but perhaps they were there. Whitethorn had been so fiercely sure that Celaena didn't do it, didn't have it ordered, had clean hands where Elide was concerned. He might be a raging dumbass for dating a woman with multiple charges of murder to her name, but the man was not stupid. 

Lorcan's eyes snagged on another image, a group photo of two dozen or so people. Standing in the front were five children. All of them were dressed in their holiday best, standing before a towering Yulemas tree covered in glittering ornaments and twinkling lights. They appeared to be gathered in a great hall of sorts. Everyone in the picture shared wide smiles as they looked at the camera. 

In the middle of the group of children was a young girl with long dark hair wearing a red and green plaid dress. A bright red bow gathered some of her soft curls from her face. A face that Lorcan would know anywhere because not only had he seen hundreds of childhood pictures of her, but he woke up to that face every godsdamn morning. 

Elide's arms were looped through two other girls, one with long golden hair and fair skin, the other with black hair in carefully woven braids, her skin dark. The three of them wore similar dresses, the color being the only thing different about them. The blonde girl on her right had a silver and dark green dress, while the one on her right had a dress of purple and silver. 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was on Elide's right. That was factual. Beside Aelin, Aedion Ashryver stood with his arm thrown around her shoulders. Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall were on the other side of Nehemia Ytger. Behind them were their parents and friends of their parents. All of them gathered before one of the famous Galathynius family Yulemas parties. 

It wasn't just Aelin standing beside Elide, though. That thought clanged through Lorcan hard. He felt it in every nerve and bone of his body; he had never been so absolutely positive of something in his entire life.

Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, a girl long since presumed dead to the world and everyone that loved her. 

Holy gods.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝕭ʟᴜᴇ 𝕳ʏᴅʀᴀɴɢᴇᴀ

_________________________

sᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x sᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you come home from california after a year back to your old man

(Heavily inspired by Heroin by Lana Del Rey + Lightly by Old Money by Lana Del Rey)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:: major angsttt, smut 18+ minors dni plz, bit of fluff, age gap

TW/CW: past drug use [reader], post-rehab

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: lana del rey’s music gives me major sugar daddy!steve vibes idky lol

(also brief description of ‘reader’ written to have hair that can moved from the face is like one sentence sorry but ur giving daddy steve a bj)

___________________________

You grabbed your bags and walked to the pick up spot at the JFK airport. It’s been a year since you’ve been in New York and you missed the city terribly. You especially missed your old man.

You stood for a minute scanning the bodies that littered across the floor until your eyes met those beautiful cerulean blue eyes you spent so many hours looking into. Instantly tears brimmed your eyes watching him move swiftly past the people dressed so casually unlike his usual stature sporting that incredible all black suit he always wore.

He looked tired and drained. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/n,” he came up to you, cupping your face before pressing his lips to yours passionately, desperately.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed you so much,” you cried.

“I missed you too. I thought about you all the time; everyday, every hour, every second,” he hugged you tightly.

“Stevie, I wanna go home,” you whispered against his lips.

“Let’s go home,” he told you.

Home.

It’s been so long since you’ve been home.

You got to the car and Steve told you to just wait in the car as he put your bags in the trunk. You smiled softly at him before slipping in the passenger's seat waiting to go home like you’ve been dreaming about since the day you left. Steve quickly slipped into the driver’s seat himself and drove off eager to go home and finally hold you close again.

The car ride was quiet. You watch the blurry lights through the wet glass window of the car and your mind could help but wander back to the day Steve saved your life.

One Year Ago

You stumbled your way through the elevator doors with a lazy smile on your face.

“Stevie!!” you screamed when you saw him sitting at the counter with a whiskey in hand.

“You’re late,” he said quietly.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Why were you out so late? I gave you a curfew,” she said sternly.

You weren’t giving him much time, your body was on fire. You unzip your dress, not so gracefully, strippping out of your clothes. You pranced around in your panties and a bra giggling and running around asking Steve to catch you but he was having none of your shit.

“Get your ass over here right now!” his voice boomed startling you.

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and roamed his hands along your body anyway but sexually. Your skin was extremely overheated and flushed. He was pissed. You had promised him the reckless behavior was over, but you couldn’t.

You were an addict.

“What the hell are you on?” he said firmly.

“Guess?” you were absolutely not taking this seriously.

“I’m not gonna ask twice; tell me!”

“Molly,” you whispered shamefully.

“God fucking dam-” he rubbed his face in frustration.

"Why do you even care so much you're- I- I'm nothing but a stupid sugar baby, anyway, " you slurred your words.

“You're more than that, and I know you fucking know it. You promised me you were going to stop! I’m done, I'm done” he breathed out. His chest felt like it was tightening, he couldn’t breathe anymore. He felt nauseous.

“No! No, no, baby; please!” you cling onto him like a child.

“You could’ve been hurt! What would happen if that shit was laced with something that could have killed you, hell taking it alone in the first place could have been the last straw! I’m doing this shit with you anymore.”

You cried, no you sobbed hysterically. You need Steve, he was your everything, your rock, your hope, your love. You knew you were a huge mess but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t know how. Didn’t know where to begin, who to go to. You felt alone.

You grew surrounded by money but when you moved to New York, you succumbed to the temptations and your parents were done with your shit. Meeting Steve, agreeing to this sugar baby thing was simply to use his money for drugs and alcohol, that’s all you lived for. Your life was over, might as well fuck yourself over while you're at it.

But you fell in love.

Goddamn, the man was perfect. He was treated with so much love and gentleness and compassion. You hadn’t felt so loved since you cut your ties with your parents and it hurt so good. You wanted to quit for him. The first night he found you disheveled and fucked, you were so embarrassed. You promised him it would stop that you were gonna be clean; but that only lasted twelve hours.

He should’ve ended it. He should’ve stopped whatever this relationship was. He told himself it was one time thing but once turned into twice, then four times until you went out every night getting high off your ass with anything that was available.

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. But like you, he fell in love too. He loved you. He really loved you. He couldn’t imagine his life without anyone else and the thought of losing you made him terrified.

“I’m done! I can’t sit here waiting for you every night wondering if you went too far! Staring at my fucking goddman phone waiting for the day they call and tell me you killed yourself! I can’t do it! You promised me you were done with this shit but here you are high off your ass again with molly,” he cried. Tears streamed down his face, his heart pained at the sight you breaking down.

“I need help, please,” you whimpered.

“Are you going to let me help you?” he sniffled.

“Yes! Please, help me,” you sobbed.

“Pack your things. You’re leaving for California tomorrow,” he said.

“What?”

“There is a rehabilitation center in California and I want you to go there,” he whispered.

“No-”

“Please, Y/n. it’s only for a year-”

“A year! No, I can't be away from you that long, please no!” you sobbed even more.

“It’s for the best,” he tightly holds you down.

“Why not here-”

“It’s for the best. I promise I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back. I swear,” he looked into your eyes.

“Stevie,” you cupped his face, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

“I know; I don;t want you to leave but I promise you’re gonna get on that airplane and you’re gonna come back and tell me everything’s ok, yeah?” he pressed his forehead.

“Ok. You make me feel I can change. I’m gonna come back and tell you that I have really changed,” you promised.

“I believe it,” he smiled.’

“Maybe California is good. Something about this city makes my head go crazy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it,” you told him.

“I love you; so much,” he whispered those words for the first time.

“I love you too,” you cried.

“You ok?” Steve pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m just- I’m really happy to be home,” you choked out.

Steve grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips kissing you softly. His eyes stayed on the road every now and then glancing at you like a dream come true. You pulled up to the building where you two lived and Steve asked the entourage to take your things up for you. He lifted you in his arms with a beautiful hopeful smile and carried you to the apartment.

When the elevator door opened he practically ran to the bedroom nuzzling his face in your neck kissing lightly. You somewhat took in the familiar surrounding noticing no change since you’d last been there. It was bittersweet. He hadn’t changed a thing since you left.

“I missed you so fucking much, baby,” he whispered.

“Steve,” you sighed, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.”

“You won’t have to. It’s all over; no more clubs, no drinking, no drugs, none of it. That girl, you used to call the queen of New York City, she’s gone. ”

“You’re still my queen,” he smirked, making you chuckle.

“I’m so fucking proud of you. You are so strong,” he praised.

You grabbed his neck and pulled him forward crashing your lips against his. You molded perfectly against like you were made for him. Like everything had led up to this moment. It felt different this time; his hands touching you delicately.

You two have had sex many of times but this time it was different.

He peeled your shirt off your body pressing kisses all over your chest. His tongue flicking over your nipple making you gasp softly. His hands gripped at your waist as he brushed his nose between the valley of your breasts.

You craved his skin on yours, practically clawing his shirt off his body. He got the memo and briefly sat up ripping his shirt off his body before falling back on top of you. His hips settled between yours and you could feel his growing erection poking through the material of his flimsy sweats.

You pushed him off your body, flipping him so you could straddle his waist; smiling devilishly as you brought your hands up to your breasts to massage them. Steve growled at the angelic sight above him pulling your hands away to replace them.

He twisted your nipples as you slowly grind your hips over his for a moment. That moment quickly died as you snaked down his body curling your finger over his pants. You languidly pulled them down his legs letting his erected cock spring free. You moaned at the sight, haven’t been able to see it since you left that fateful morning.

You wrapped your hands around the base of his cock and stroked his dick slowly pulling wanton moans from him that were music to your ears. You leaned forward and licked teasingly along the tip before swirling your tongue around it making him groan. His hand went to your head combing your hair from your face gathering it in a messy ponytail.

Your lips wrapped around his cock perfectly just that way he likes it; like you’ve a thousand times before. He looked to the ceiling and sighed at the pleasure you were giving to him. He was never one to make much noise during sex but he was craving your mouth wrapped around him; he couldn’t contain the moans and grunts that wanted to come out. He couldn’t wait until he’s buried between your thighs.

You cheeks hollowed around his dick sucking hard before you take him all at once repeating over and over again. Steve’s hold on your hair tightened with every bob of your head thrusting his hip in time with your rhythm. Hitting the back of your throat, Steve’s hip stuttered and his legs shook approaching his orgasm fast.

“No, I wanna come in you, baby girl,” he panted, pulling you off of his dick. You quickly discarded your panties before climbing back on top of him to straddle him, knees on either side on his hips. You cupped his face kissing him senselessly; passion and lust and most importantly love enveloping you two.

You lifted your hips briefly as Steve lined his cock with your soaking entrance and slowly sunk down allowing him to stretch you impeccably. You moaned in sync, like you were becoming one again after so long being unable to hold each other.

His arms wrapped around holding close as you waited a bit to adjust to his size again. He peppered faint kisses along your neck and collar bone, nipping playfully at your skin too. You felt so full and incredible basking in his attention and the feeling of your walls wrapped around him again.

You moved your hips back and forward, your clit grinding against his pelvis making you shiver in pleasure. You face tucked tightly in the crook of Steve neck, your thrusts getting faster and faster. Steve’s hands moved to your hips lifting you slightly before slamming you back down on his cock harshly. This made you throw your head with a cry of pleasure, strings of curse words flowing from your mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed your cock so much,” you whined.

“I missed you too baby,” he grunted.

You looked at his face watching it contort with pleasure, his eyes completely screwed shut overwhelmingly. Sweat lined his forehead, the shorter pieces of hair sticking to it. You brought your hand to it brushing his hairs back so you could see his face in it’s fullest beauty.

He peeled his eyes open, staring directly into eyes and breathed heavily in time with you. For a single moment between you both, time stopped. It felt as if the world was gone and all that mattered was right now; you being back in your old man’s arms again, the love of your life.

You couldn’t help the quick glance at his red swollen lips, desire to kiss them again overcoming you. You leaned forward capturing his lips for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, but it's something you’ve ever got tired of. The way slightly chapped lips molded perfectly with yours.

“I love you, baby,” he moaned.

“I- fuck!” you couldn’t even speak anymore when Steve’s thrusts became harder and faster desperate to chase both your’s and his orgasms.

“Look at me baby,” he growled, “You were fucking made for me. No one can ever fuck you like I can. No is ever gonna take care of you like I do. And no one, absolutely fucking no one, is ever gonna love you as much I do.”

Tears streamed down your face; overwhelmed with love and desire and lust. Steve saved your life and you owe him everything. You loved him evermore; he is everything. Steve kissed you again, addicted to your lips, tasting the salty tears that came from your hopeful and loving eyes. He wiped the tears away with his thumb.

“Stevie, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered.

“Come all over my cock baby girl. You deserve it,” he whispered.

Your body shook as you reached your high. Chanting Steve's name like prayer, like it was the only word you knew to say. Steve’s rutted his hips into one last time spilling his seed inside you, hot cum coated your velvety walls. You collapsed forward onto him and he held you tightly.

Your fragile body trembled against him and Steve's heart ached a bit. He knew you were overwhelmed, hell so was he. But he was so utterly happy to have you back. There were so many nights where Steve lied awake at night, unable to sleep without you, day-dreaming of a future with you when you’d come home. He knew you were a strong woman and he knew you were going to come back to him healthy and stronger than before.

He remembers the day he came back to New York after leaving you in California. He was with his old pal Bucky at a local bar in Manhattan. He’s always really known inside that he’d fallen in love with you, he’d proven already that he’d do anything for you. But that night is when he finally admitted it out loud to himself and to others. Steve can’t imagine his future with anyone else but you and he’ll be damned if something happened to you.

“Sweet girl, I love you with all my heart,” he whispered, stroking your back softly.

“Even when I’m old; when I shine from words and not from beauty?” you whispered.

“I will love you evermore,” he said.

He whispered more sweet things as you cried holding him tightly spending your first night back together in his arms. Before, you didn’t know where life was gonna take you; either to the moon or six feet under. But Steve swept you away to a promiseland and you’ll follow him blindly. It didn’t matter where life was going to take you next as long as you were with your old man, you were happy.

Completely and utterly happy.

=====================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

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[george-fabian-weasley]

if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3 

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The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?” 

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-” 

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat. 

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part. 

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred. 

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything. 

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line. 

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself. 

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.  

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

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[mochiable]

— enough. (a)

REQUESTED — hello!! i really like your work and how you write. could i request a scenario about han jisung cheating on reader and her forgiving him every time but then she can’t stay with him anymore and they have a big fight? sorry if it’s so specific, but i think you’d do a great work with this! i’ll understand if you don’t want to do it though, have a nice day!

wc: 1.7k

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, swearing, emotional pain

requests are open!

you were fed up. jisung kept shouting your name in the distance, but you didn't want to know any more, you didn't want to hear any more. you were tired of everyone taking you for a naïve fool who didn't realise what was going on around you. ‘poor thing, she has no idea he slept with five other girls’, ‘i feel so sorry for her, how come she's still with him?’ you didn't know, you really didn't know how you could still be with him. maybe they were all right, you were a sucker, but that was going to change, you weren't going to put up with any more humiliation, and much less coming from him.

as soon as you arrived at the flat you shared with your now ex-boyfriend, you locked yourself in your room and took your suitcase out of the wardrobe to start storing your most necessary belongings. you didn't know where you were going to go, you didn't want to bother anyone, but it was either that or sleep in the street or stay in a forty square metre flat with the person you least wanted to see right now. either of the first two options was better than the third one, anyways.

when you finished putting all your clothes away and headed to the bathroom to pick up your make-up and all your creams you heard the front door open loudly and as hurried footsteps followed by several curses headed towards the bedroom.

“what are you doing?” the dark-haired boy asked watching you from the bathroom door, looking through the mirror as you put all the products in your vanity case, hands trembling and clutching things tightly.

“dancing a tango, wanna be my partner?” you replied sarcastically, taking all the courage you had left and turning around to face him, “what the fuck do you think I'm doing, jisung? i’m leaving,” you spat angrily, moving towards the door and bumping your shoulder against his to walk back into the room.

“no, no, no,” he repeated, shaking his head repeatedly as he moved closer to you and tried to get your attention, “listen to me, please listen to me," he pleaded, reaching up to you and turning your face to his with his hands on your cheeks, “it’s not what it looks like, i swear.”

“isn't it? let me guess," you began, bringing your hands up to his and roughly pulling them away from your face, “was it her who kissed you? or maybe, oh, i know, you drank too much and couldn't control yourself?” you roared angrily, pushing him hard in the chest, pushing him two metres away from you, “fuck you, jisung! i’ve had it. you've done nothing but humiliate and despise me. fuck, why can't you take me seriously for once? am i a joke to you, huh? is that it? do you think i’m so deluded as to cheat on me not just once but five times? do you enjoy watching me being mocked and laughed at behind my back? ‘oh poor girl, her boyfriend cheats on her and she keeps chasing after him like an idiot because she can't stand on her own two feet’!”

at first, your age difference was the reason for thousands of messages and threats directed at you. you were only three years older than him, and he was already an adult, you didn't see the problem, you both loved each other, or so you thought. the comments soon went from ‘old predator whore’ to ‘dumb slutty little girl’. you had to put up with how they came on to your boyfriend, and how he did nothing, smiled and even flirted back. however, when a boy came up to you, he seemed to wake up and didn't hesitate to shoo him away.

“no, that's not true. please, y/n,” he came back to you with a desperate expression on his face, managing to cradle your cheeks again and wipe away the tears you hadn't realised were falling from your eyes, “of course i take you seriously, darling. you're my everything. they're lying, i swear, y/n. i’d never do that to you, you have to believe me.”

you pushed him away from you again, and ran your hands through your hair, tousling it and burying your face in your hands. the moment you looked up again, you found your face reflected in the small mirror of the canterano in the room. a haggard, weak, sultry face. you dropped onto the bed, you were exhausted and you knew that this argument had only just begun.

“enough, enough,” you murmured, holding back the sob that was about to escape your throat, “stop lying, just stop! you don't love me, jisung. you never have and you never will. why do you want to keep me here if all you do is make me suffer?”

“no, that’s not true. i do love you, y/n,” he replied softly, crouching down in front of you until his eyes were level with yours. he brought his hands to yours, but you pulled away and stood up again, laughing bitterly.

“you have a terrible way of loving then,” you said, turning around and reaching for your suitcase, but jisung was quicker and wouldn't let you.

“i’m not letting you leave, not without sorting this out,” he said resolutely, snatching the suitcase from you and setting it in a corner, “it’s after midnight, you're not going out at this hour.”

“so now you care? where were you all those times i had to come home alone in the middle of the night because my boyfriend preferred to cheat on me with someone else?” you asked, moving forward again to grab the suitcase, but he got in the way and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your things. you tried to pull away, but you knew he wasn't going to let go until you two fixed this, so you decided to continue, “you don't have to worry, there's no one out there who's going to hurt me more than you. you can stay calm.”

“tomorrow you can leave if you want, but tonight you're staying, okay? i can't let you leave at this hour, i’m not gonna let you," the grip on your arm was beginning to intensify, but he released you immediately when he saw the expression of discomfort on your face. he unhesitatingly wrapped you in an embrace and pressed you against his body, stroking your hair and resting his head on top of yours, “please stay, love. stay with me tonight.”

“how many others have you told this to? huh? how many others have you told to stay the night with you?” you asked between whimpers against his chest, clutching the sides of his t-shirt tightly in helplessness, “you treat me like shit, you cheat on me, you humiliate me and then you have the balls to tell me you love me.”

jisung, seeing that his words were having the opposite effect to the one they were intended to have, lifted your face and brought it close to his. he brushed your noses in a gentle but subtle gesture and, caressing the lower part of your eyes, he leaned towards you until your lips made contact.

however, the butterflies in your belly that you once wished would never disappear had, indeed, died. none of them was left. because jisung, with his lies and deceit, had killed them off one by one. until the last one that had remained until tonight couldn’t stand it anymore and vanished just like her sisters, leaving an empty hole in your stomach that resembled the one you had in your heart.

still wide-eyed, you brought your hands to his, which rested on your cheeks, and lowered them. jisung gradually broke the contact of your lips, until finally he rested his forehead on yours and let out an agitated sigh.

“you’re staying, right?” he asked once he’d pulled away from your face, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. but you no longer believed anything, you no longer trusted him.

“what would i gain by staying, jisung? i can’t stand any more humiliation,” you answered with a broken voice, trying with all your might he wouldn’t see you cry again. you hated showing weakness in front of him at times like this. you felt that if you did, he’d won again and you were tired of losing.

“please, y/n, please. you can't do this to me,” he growled desperately when you pulled away from him and went to pick up your suitcase. he tried to catch you when he saw you walking towards the door, but you turned and raised your hand, putting it in front of his face and telling him to shut up.

“i can't do this to you? i’m not the one who sent our relationship to hell, jisung. you decided to flirt with other girls, you decided to make out with them and you alone decided to fuck them. you’re the only son of a bitch here, and i’m not going to put up with you treating me like rubbish anymore,” you finished, taking the keys off your key ring and leaving on the front porch the one that opened the flat that was no longer yours. then, you turned to him and started to memorize all the details of his face, before saying your last goodbye, “have a nice life, han jisung.”

you left that apartment putting an end not only to a relationship, but to a lifestyle that had been destroying you for months. you didn’t know how you were going to overcome everything that had happened, but what you were sure about was that you weren’t going to go back and, evidently, you weren’t going to let anyone else treat you as if you weren’t a human being.

jisung’s punishment would be to wake up and remember everything he had and everything he could have continued to have if he hadn’t screwed everything up. now, when he got home he’d only find a cold and empty apartment. but that didn’t compare to how you’d felt during the last months of your relationship, and now it was his turn to feel the worst that can come from a toxic relationship, helplessness and resentment.

[rogue-durin-16]

STICK TOGETHER

Summary: When Fred finds out Y/n is planning on leaving the Wizarding World, he canalizes his feelings in the worst way possible, which leads to a terrible outcome that seems unfixable.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: swearing

A/N: @meph1stophelian is here putting pressure on me to post this already so I'm apologizing for the poorly written ending lmaoo enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Fred, calm down." George begged me; he walked by my side, trying to talk some sense into me, but it was not the moment. "You gotta understand her— throwing a fit isn't going to help anyone—" I didn't even look in my twin's direction while he spoke. "Bloody hell, Fred—"

"Y/n!" I quickened my pace, leaving George behind after spotting her in one of the corridors, having a chat with a couple of Ravenclaws. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure— Oi!" I hadn't waited for her to reply before grabbing her hand and snatching her away to pull her into the nearest broom closet. "What was that about?"

"Tell me I heard Katie wrong and you're not actually leaving."

"I can't tell you that." She plainly responded, her voice steady.

A single, gobsmacked snide left my throat. "You're joking, right?" My heart ached as if it was being constricted when she shook her head no. "So you're fleeing?"

"What?"

"Things are getting ugly so you're running away."

Her eyes dug into mines as she stayed in a very uncomfortable silence before replying with. "So what if I am?" When I averted my eyes from hers, she called my name. Her eyes were somewhat softer now, with a gleam of plea in them. "For the last two years we had nothing but tragedy. Diggory died, You-Know-Who is back and recruiting, the ministry is full on going against a teenager, this pink colored nasty toad is physically abusing us, and on top of that, I have to put up with my housemates' bullshit for having muggle blood— I'm tired!" Her voice had raised a bit, enough for me to know she was struggling to keep it at bay, but still managed to. "If I can have a life out of this then—"

"You're a coward."

"Fred." there was a warning on her tone, but I couldn't listen.

"You're leaving... people behind," she attempted to reason; I didn't let her. "Dunno why I'm surprised, really. At the end of the day you're a Slytherin for a reason."

Her eyes started to well up, and I couldn't tell if it was with anguish or fury. I knew I was getting under her skin, but that was exactly what I intended to do; if I was going to leave that room scarred, so would she.

"Self-preservation, you call it." I scoffed, feeling my own rage building up faster each passing second. "Pure cowardy."

"Is that what you think?" Her tone wasn't steady anymore; she was holding back the poison of her words, for my sake.

"Yeah." I wasn't capable of doing the same thing for hers. "And I don't want your cheap excuses and emotional manipulation to convince me otherwise." My face was probably red due to the anger, my jaw and fists hurt from clenching them; I was off the rails, and the person who would usually stop me was standing in front of me. "Better leave now so you don't have the chance to sell us out when shit goes down."

Silence fell upon us, our gazes locked, equally watery and with the same amount of fury and sadness within them.

And finally she snapped. "Maybe I'm a coward, but you're a self-absorbed prat who's not able to see beyond your own ego!" The way she said it hurt me more than the sentence itself. "This is not gonna be a DADA class, Fred! I don't want to fucking die because I was too slow casting Protego."

"Good luck, Y/l/n." I curtly wished her before stalking out of the broom closet I have initially dragged her into.

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

We avoided each other for a week. The following Monday, when I entered the Great Hall, I found George and Katie quite depressed.

"What's gotten into you?"

They shared a look before my brother turned to me, deciding to break the news himself.

"Y/n left last night." He gave me an apologetic look. "Thought she'd wait until the graduation—"

"But she's had enough." Katie finished, toying with her breakfast. "Honestly, I wish I had a life in the muggle world too."

My lungs were refusing to take the air inside; I felt as if I would choke if I stayed there, so I stormed out, jogging to reach the countryard.

I needed to breathe.

Even after the wind hit my face, that vital task felt like the most difficult thing in the world to accomplish.

I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her.

A sob escaped my chest, realising the harsh words I had spat at her were probably the last ones she would ever hear from me.

I love her.

A Year And A Half Later

READER'S P. O. V.

I managed to apparate somewhere in the cornfield —the only place around the Burrow I remembered clearly.

I should have landed with a broom, but apparently, Mad-Eye didn't inform Lupin that I would serve as an extra escort for Harry if they were ambushed, so my broom was now smashed somewhere down the muggle road we had flown over.

Mentally cursing the damn moment in which I spoke to Shacklebolt in hopes of being useful in this war, I looked for the entrance of the Weasley home, which took me quite a while.

Funnily enough, it was Lupin who stepped out, wielding his wand and casting yet another hex at me that I somehow managed to block.

With a swift wave of my hand, he was propelled back into the house. "YOU!" A long-haired redhead I recognized as the eldest Weasley helped my old Professor up as I stalked to them with my wand up. "YOU HEXED MY BLOODY BROOM! I'M LUCKY TO BE ALIVE!"

"Y/n, calm down—" Shacklebolt was now besides me with his hands up. "He didn't know you were coming— he was trying to protect George from further harm."

My brain was slow to process his words, but as soon as it did, I started to down my arm. "What happened?"

"Snape hit him with the sectumsempra." My eyes widened at Lupin's heavy words.

"Did everyone else make it?" The three of them remained silent, the ginger shaking his head no.

My breath caught up in my throat, but before I could ask if Fred was alright, another tall ginger flashed the corner of my eye, and my head snapped to the living room's door.

FRED'S P. O. V.

Everyone was scattered around the house. Ginny took Hermione and Fleur to her room; Ron and Harry made its way up too; Tonks went out —she needed a moment alone to mourn Mad-Eye—, and, while my parents and I stayed with George, Lupin, Shacklebolt and Bill went to guard the entrance.

I was still kneeling by George's side, holding his hand while our mother healed his wound the best she could, when we heard a yell followed by a strong blow in the kitchen.

I looked at my mum and dad, my eyes flickering to my twin while I reached for my wand.

As I got up, more yells were heard, this time clearer; the voice was familiar— I knew that voice all too well.

There she stood, at the entrance of my home.

Her eyes met mines as soon as she caught a glimpse of me, and my head started to spin. I knew I had no right to do what I was about to do, but after that night's events, in which the war became very much real, I couldn't help but rush to her and engulf her in a tight hug.

Surprisingly enough, I couldn't take more than two steps forward, since she did what I intended to do first.

"You're alright." She mumbled against my shoulder. My eyes shut, trying to block the tears that threatened to fall. "How's he?" She inquired whilst pulling away with a concerned frown.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded in the living room's direction. A quiet sough escaped my lips as she passed by, her hands lingering on my arms for a brief instant before she entered the room and took careful steps towards the settee.

I barely caught a couple of words from George and Y/n's exchange, my mind still buzzing due to the shock.

"What do you say, Freddie?" I frowned at my twin, regretting not listening to the conversation. "She can take my bed, right? I'm not gonna get far anyway."

"Right." I agreed, struggling for my voice to come out steady. It was Y/n we were talking about; I had known her since our fourth year, I had been friends and more with her, seeing her shouldn't be that nerve-wracking.

A couple of minutes later, we were all heading to our respective rooms, and as I closed my room's door behind me and Y/n, it dawned on me that I had underestimated the anxiety that could cause me being left alone with her.

Get it together, Fred.

"If you want, you can grab a shirt from the drawer." I finally managed to speak, motioning at the chest besides the window. She nodded and turned to it to look for one she could sleep in.

Now that I had the opportunity, I carefully observed her, and soon realized how much she had changed in the time we were apart. Not only when it came to her physical appearance; she stood a bit straighter, talked a little calmer; the joy with which she used to sparkle was dim now, eclipsed by a severe, worried attitude— a sign of us no longer being the kids who messed around at Hogwarts.

"I missed you" I knew right away that wasn't the best start for the conversation.

"It sure didn't seem like it." The bitterness in her tone stung my heart harsher than I expected.

"You're still mad?" The way I was conducting the conversation was making me want to bang my head against the wall.

She sighed, turning around now that she had the shirt on to meet my gaze. "A year and a half, Fred. You didn't contact me for a year and a half. I thought we were friends."

"You left me behind!" I talked back, partly because I panicked, but also because I, to my surprise, was still mad too. "What did you even expect?"

"A letter?" She questioned, throwing herself down on the bed. "I mean— I didn't really expect anything, but a letter would have been a good way to let me know you didn't fucking hate me." My eyes, now fixed on my lap, went wide when Y/n's voice broke at her last three words.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, quite ashamed of having to apologise while also being scared of saying anything that could harm her further. "I'm sorry about not writing and- uh... I'm sorry about what I said to you. I know it's not an excuse but I was really mad and..." I cleared my throat and felt the blush creeping up my neck even before I finished the sentence. "... and hurt 'cause you- I thought that maybe I wasn't important enough to you and- yeah, I'm sorry about what I said." I tried meeting her eyes but they were fixed on the wall before her.

"It's fine." She shrugged, "I guess you were right anyway."

"I wasn't right-"

"You were." She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face there. "Wanna know why I'm back?" She didn't need my response. "They're hunting down my family." My heart stopped beating for a second due to the shockingly deadpanning tone. "A friend gave me a tip-off— they were tracking them down. I got to them just in time." I refrained myself from asking about them —the less I knew, the better. "So yeah, you're right, I was a coward and left people behind."

My body shot up and my legs carried me to George's bed; without me being fully aware of what I was doing or which consequences it could have, I sat down and pulled Y/n into my arms.

Though she was shocked at first, her body soon relaxed into the familiarity of my arms, and she let out a relieved sigh. "You're not alone on this." I whispered, pecking her crown. "I'm here, okay?"

"So you don't hate me?" She murmured against my chest.

Maybe it was the fragility of her voice, or the warmth of her embrace I missed so much; maybe it was this past year and a half of regret, or the night's events, but I couldn't hold back my words.

"I love you."

And even though she went stiff, even if I had just blurted them out almost in accident, I didn't regret saying them, because I, in fact, loved her.

She pulled away to look into my eyes. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." I replied, calmer than I had been in a while. "And I'm really sorry about everything, if I could turn back time—" words and air were cut off by her lips crashing against mines.

We had kissed before, but it was on a bet's behalf or to prank someone; this was different, this was her pouring her 'I love you' into actions, and I embrace it gladly.

"No more running away." I commanded when she pulled back. "From now on, we stick together." She nodded, her forehead resting against mine and her palms on my chest.