#it almost distracts me from how much the funeral scene fucks me up

[mendelsohnben]

Nathan Page as Detective Inspector Jack Robinson ↳ Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears

[9leaguesofmirrors]

Hidden (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

I recently started watching What We Do In The Shadows, and this fic is inspired by one of my favourite scenes. It takes place in the season 3 finale between Nadja and Laszlo. Hopefully you all enjoy it!

“How come your dad never had a funeral?”

“He did. It was just a small event.”

Ross held his mug in his hand, ignoring the burning sensation in his hands. It was more of a comfort than anything, a distraction from a conversation he only hoped would pass soon

“Your dad? A small event!” Lisgoe cackled “That attention-seeking bastard wouldn’t allow it!”

“He didn’t have much say in the matter, hardly anybody went.”

“That, I can believe.”

As Lisgoe dropped the subject, in favour of the funeral scene that was currently on their TV, Ross breathed a sigh of relief

Sometimes, he reminded himself, it’s better to lie

*********************************************

Ross’ dad had been trying to contact him all week, and he was starting to worry that he��d have to explain to his partner why he’d lied about the death of a family member

It wasn’t until that Saturday evening that he realised, after a lot of hiding his phone and sneaking glances at it when he thought Lisgoe wasn’t watching, just how incriminating he was making himself look. And the sideways glances he was getting confirmed that theory

Sitting on the same sofa as him probably wasn’t a smart idea

“Ross, what are you doing?”

“... Nothing.”

“Christ,” he muttered, snatching the phone from his partner’s hand “sound less convincing.”

“Joseph-”

“This has gone on for a whole fucking week.” Lisgoe started going through the phone “It stops…”

They made eye contact, and the look on Lisgoe’s face made Ross go pale. And what came out of his mouth made his stomach drop

“You communicating with the dead now, Ross?”

Ross let out a sigh

“Joseph, I can explain-”

“You said your dad died six fucking months ago. So how is this “dead man” contacting you?” Lisgoe looked at the phone again “15 missed calls, Ross, 15 fucking calls and 20 texts from this week alone.”

“Let me talk.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” He tossed the phone at Ross and folded his arms, reclining in a comfortable position

Ross shifted his body to face his partner properly

“He’s dead to me. I’ve been trying to cut contact.”

“Then why not block him?”

“It’s… look, I’m taking small steps. Ignoring him is the first one.”

Lisgoe’s jaw tightened, but the way he looked down for a moment, nodding gently, implied some level of understanding

“Did he not like that you were into fellas?”

They look at each other and Ross feels himself go hot with anger. Anger, not at Lisgoe, but at the past

“... No.”

Nothing was said for a moment

“He didn’t care about my love life for years, he didn’t even care that I was gay.”

As Lisgoe turned his body to face him, Ross pressed his fingertips together in an almost self-soothing manner

He felt a hand on his wrist, firm but not threatening

“It’s about the fact that… years ago, I fell in love.” Ross closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued “I fell in love with a working-class man.”

He watched Lisgoe’s eyes widen gently, brows furrowing, but he said nothing

“A man,” Ross continued “that grew up in a tiny council estate in Sheffield, with no social standing or inherited wealth. A man that had to fight that little bit harder to get what he wanted.” He took Lisgoe’s hand “The things he called that man…” he shook his head in disgust “I could’ve killed him. He even went as far as calling him a mistake.”

For a moment, Lisgoe’s jaw tightened further. As if trying to force down a swirling pit in his stomach. Instinctively, Ross touched the side of his face and spoke in a serious tone

“That man… is the most life-altering person I’ve ever met. To the point where he started changing my idea of a mistake. Changed my way of seeing the world. Made me realise that sometimes, you can’t think. Sometimes you have to just do.”

His hand moved to the back of Lisgoe’s head, fingers threading through his hair

“That man, obviously-”

Lisgoe’s lips pursed, as if beginning to speak, but the words didn’t come

Ross understood

“Yes. It’s you, Joseph.”

He watched his partner breathe deeply, his exhale trembling ever so slightly. Ross knew better than to point it out

“How are you feeling about it?”

That caught Ross offguard. It was strange to hear Lisgoe react in a way that wasn’t inciting some sort of violence

“Feels like I should’ve blocked him properly.”

“Could do it now.”

Ross nodded, looking down at his phone as another notification came through. He then watched as the phone was taken away and his chin was tilted upwards. Lips pressed together in a way that was rare. There was no sparking or hunger, just a soft glowing ember that was warm in a way that neither felt often - a feeling of comfort

They pulled away for a moment, Lisgoe looked as though he was waiting for a response

All Ross wanted was to feel comfort again. Hands cupped Lisgoe’s neck and pulled him on, enveloped in a warmth that was both completely unknown and strangely familiar

[anystalker707]

Our Father, who art in heaven

Pairing: Priest! Gerard x Vampire! Reader Word count: ~ 2 300 Genre: Not smut but very hot Warning: Blood / Religious themes Summary: Father Way is a man of great faith and of good, but (y/n) would argue. Kind of content: Blood play / Humiliation / Oral fixation

Not requested but @newgirlinhell and @frank-ieros-lip-ring were v excited about it

Whoever started spreading the rumors of vampires being repelled by crosses certainly does not know a thing about vampires or any other creature of the depths of hell, given how the object itself is of no use if it’s not out of silver or the one in possession of the object is of little faith. That’s why he is so interesting. The day I greeted him, that cross that hung on from his neck and rested on his chest with so much power held as much strength as bright fake flowers in the middle of a dining table during a depressing meal time, quite the opposite to all of the others. It never changed.

“The peace of the Lord be with you,” he said in a shaky voice as he barely eyed me, holding more feelings than he dared demonstrating, and matching with how his hand shook as he drew the cross with the ashes of myrrh right across my forehead.

“And with your spirit,” I mumbled in response, bowing my head a little, though I made sure to glance at him from under my lashes with a slight smile that disappeared the moment I brought myself up from my knees, bowing again before I could walk back to my place on one of the last pews.

Something stands between Gerard and his faith, but I refuse to admit it is me—I am just a little push. After all, he already has a cigarette between his fingers and a glass of whiskey sitting on the desk the moment I walk into his office; I take a moment to observe the scene before me, the way he fumbles with something on the desk with his back to me and a hip cocked out. The tight dress pants and matching black button up suit him so perfectly. Walking closer, I notice it’s the Bible he is skipping through, sometimes lingering over some pages.

“Your blessing, Father...” I grin as I gently take hold of his hips, nuzzling his neck; only part of it shows under the long dark strands that contrast with his pale skin.

Gerard hums softly, shifting a little under my touch. “Fuck you.”

“Gladly!” I press a kiss to the back of his neck, and Gerard clicks his tongue, taking a drag of his cigarette before he elbows me lightly and pulls away enough to turn around. Gerard inhales deeply, nodding up. “What?” I raise an eyebrow. “Can’t I just make a visit? Check on you? You seemed sort of... distracted during the mass today.” I furrow my eyebrows, almost cracking a smile at the way his eyes drift down and his cheeks gain a redder tone, but he is quickly walking around the table and taking a last drag of his cigarette to put it out against a sheet paper that rests on top of a pile of more paper and a few notebooks.

“Shut the fuck up.” Gerard turns the Bible his way and adds a bookmarker before closing it, sitting down on his chair to go through the drawers of the desk.

Attending masses often wasn’t the intention I had when I had walked into the Our Lady of Sorrows Parish Church to check on the new arrival sometime ago, but now it’s barely possible resisting the opportunity of making Gerard’s voice shake during the consecration. Or whenever his eyes catch mine. Finding a nice place in the church isn’t often bad—not everyone has faith that can actually hurt, to be honest. Quite surprising regarding the place.

Today was another one of these days in which Gerard’s eyes were drawn to the spot I was every few seconds, probably remembering the previous night. Not my fault the most powerful position for him is, indeed, on his knees. Of course it gave him an attitude, but I’ll let him enjoy it for now.

“Are you busy?” I lean forward on the desk with my hands around the edge. The papers on his desk are about the same stuff of always—mass intentions, funerals, Parish events.

“No.” Gerard closes the drawer with a sigh. “But I suppose you’re hungry.”

A smile tugs on my lips as I nod. “Good guess. Now, come here.” I step away to stand in front of the deep red loveseat set under the window, making sure to check if the window is shut behind the curtains to open them a little and let the moonlight in, time enough for Gerard to do as told and stand before me. The way he turned off the lights and left the table lamp on creates a comfortable atmosphere with the dim yellow light of the lamp bathing part of the room. There’s only a problem. He is about to sit down when I stop him with an arm across his torso, shaking my head. “You know your place, Gee.”

Gerard’s chest tenses up with a breath caught in his throat, but he steps back and quickly lowers himself to his knees. Some of his dark strands cover his face as he looks up at me, running his tongue between his lips while pushing them away from his face; he doesn’t do a good job at it, so I help him instead, cupping his pale cheeks to peck his lips shortly before I hook my fingers around the strands to pull them away to show that pretty face of his properly. His irises color stand out under the silver moonlight as he looks at me, eyes partly covered by his eyelids with how his gaze falls to my lips, but I’m quick in giving him what he wants.

A soft hum comes from Gerard once I deepen the kiss, pressing my tongue down against his before I start nibbling down on his bottom lip, going on until I snatch a quiet moan from him. I sit down on the loveseat, near the edge, and spread my legs so Gerard can come closer, letting his arms rest on my thighs as he lets me pull him to where I want and tilt his head to the side.

As always, I take my time, of course. Gerard may be my blood bag, but it doesn’t mean I’m drinking from him whenever I am hungry—he is for special occasions, such as today, when I couldn’t keep my mind off him and not all of the blood from the woman down the alley was enough to suppress the thirst. Gerard is for special moments. Gerard is special. Whether it’s exclusively about the taste of his blood or the feelings I hold for him, I prefer never to find out.

My nose runs against the shape of Gerard’s jaw gently, with my lips sometimes lingering against his skin, though I occasionally let my tongue run across his neck and have some of the salty taste.

“You’re perfect,” I mumble in his ear, receiving a quiet sound in response as he shudders. How perfect. He leans a little into the hand that cups his face while I rest the other on his shoulder to keep him firm in place. Finally, I pull Gerard’s hair away from his neck and press my lips to his jugular, holding my breath for a moment to focus only on feeling the blood run under the skin against my lips, and my mouth waters not only at it, but at the sweet scent coming from him. “Hell,” I mumble. I shouldn’t be so weak for him.

I let my tongue run between my lips, wetting them, before I can finally bare my teeth and press them to Gerard’s neck, where I let them linger for some seconds so Gerard can prepare himself and only then let my teeth sink into the skin, piercing through it in a single motion with the skill provided to me through experience, just to be pulled away and let the sweet metallic flavor finally fill my mouth.

Gerard’s fingers that once sunk into my thighs through the fabric of my pants now slowly grow weaker, allowing him to let out a quiet moan as he relaxes—as much as the situation allows him to—against my touch.

“(Y/n)...” he mumbles with a soft sigh.

Maybe Gerard has such a taste because it’s corrupted blood. Once holy, now tainted. Genuinely tainted. It seems like there could be a time in which his presence would be enough to cause me harm, but it’s simply not there anymore and possibly never will be again. It has me almost panting as I drink from him, already having some of his blood smearing my chin and trailing down the corners of my lips.

Fighting the urge to drain Gerard is hard, though thankfully not as before, so it’s easier to focus on how Gerard feels before I’m just licking the wound closed whilst only letting the blood fill my mouth, and finally pull away to press my lips to his instead. A surprised hum comes from Gerard before he kisses back messily, swallowing some of the blood whilst some of it escapes our lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” I mumble against his lips, and let my tongue drag against his bottom lip. “If only you could taste it like I do. Hell, I want you to be mine forever...”

A soft moan escapes Gerard’s lips as he nods before he presses his lips to mine in a sweeter kiss that quickly grows needy with how his hands tug onto my shirt, deepening the kiss and going on with it until I can’t breathe and my pulse rings in my lips for a brief moment. Wow.

He’ll be the death of me—the thought crosses my mind, but never actually leaves my lips because of the haze that clouds my mind worse. It’s finally gone when I lean back lightly and look at Gerard properly, watching his skin almost glow under the moonlight as his hands slowly trail down to rest above my knees. His lips are now smeared with blood that also runs down his chin and... “Fuck, you look so pretty like this, baby.”

Even if my heart doesn’t beat anymore, it still aches for Gerard, and I wish I could feel it race, making my cheeks burn whenever he kisses me first or flirts. Perhaps, even feel my heart flutter. I bet it would flutter every time he giggles, or when he leans his head against my shoulder or shyly takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. Or even now, that Gerard blushes, letting his eyes look down for a moment before he nuzzles my hand softly.

Either way, I don’t think it matters a lot, at least not right now.

My thumb presses down against Gerard’s chin and slowly drags up, collecting the blood that escaped his lips just to get it back into his mouth again. I need to repeat the motion three times so all the excess is back in his mouth, and I let my thumb run across his bottom lip, pulling on it a little to show his short red-stained teeth before it snaps back into place. I’m about to trace it again before Gerard’s tongue pokes out to lick on my thumb, with kitten licks that only cease when I shove my thumb into his mouth and press it down against his tongue. Despite the initial shock, he closes his lips around it, humming softly.

“You’re addicting like no one else is or has been, to me,” I mumble as I watch him, carefully switching my bloody fingers, one by one being cleaned by his mouth. “Maybe I’m not the corrupting one here.”

Gerard would certainly argue if he wasn’t so busy, instead focusing on twirling his tongue around my fingers, cleaning them.

“Sinful.” I sigh. “Are you that lost of a cause, Gerard? At least try to save your soul. Pray.”

My finger slips out of Gerard’s mouth with a wet sound and almost snatches a sound of protest from him before there’s ground under his feet again, his fingers twitching a little around my knees.

“Fuck,” Gerard mouths, but never actually says it, and cleans his throat, looking around for a moment before he can start. “Our Father,” he mumbles as I let my fingers dive back down to his neck, gathering some of the blood that remains coming from the closing wound, “who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...” The words slur away when I hold my fingers in front of his lips; he is quick to lean in and clean the fingers effectively, humming a little among the wet sounds. “Thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” he continues once I pull away, repeating the motion, though this time there’s more blood trailing down three of my fingers. Gerard takes each of them into his mouth individually, making sure to take his time... maybe a little too much. He seems too invested in my last finger.

“Gerard?” I raise an eyebrow.

He pulls away and swallows. “Done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread;” he interrupts himself with a soft sound as I press down onto the wound on his neck softly, “and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us...” There he goes again, falling in silence at the moment I start licking his neck clean, dragging my tongue against the skin in long stripes to both heal and clean him as best as I can right now. “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

“Amen,” I hum, finishing my job with a kiss on his neck, and lean back against the loveseat with a sigh. “You’re worse than hell, Gerard.”

A small smile plays on his lips, and it doesn’t take long for Gerard to bring himself up to his feet, showing the bulge stretching his dress pants between his legs. He is also out of breath, panting. “Well, let me show you better, then...” He pins me back to the seat with his hands on my shoulders, pressing his lips to mine.

_________________

tagging list: @lubbockshusband | @trans-ylvania | @newgirlinhell

[pedro-pascal-love]

The Abduction

Chapter Eight of Well, This is Awkward

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist 

Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 4k+

Summary: Tom is back. Things take a very dark turn.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence, sexual assault/rape, somnophilia, MAJOR TRAUMA, kidnapping, escaping kidnapping, blood, miscarriage, some slight smut (not the good kind), soft!Dave

A/N: I’m putting a trigger warning for certain scenes. If you’re not comfortable with any of the major trauma listed in the warnings, please skip the parts between trigger warnings.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

You groaned as you opened your eyes, pain running through your entire body. You began to regain your senses as you took in where you were and what had happened. All you remembered was Tom’s voice as you were getting dressed in the York home and then nothing. You saw that you were in a dark room with a light in the corner as you looked around. You were seated in a chair, and you felt your hands were bound by rope. Your ankles were also bound as you tried to move your legs, and immense pain shot through you when you moved your lower body. How long had you been out for? You looked down at yourself and saw that you had clothing on but were barefoot.

At least I’m not naked, you thought, thankful that Tom had the foresight to at least dress you before bringing you to wherever you were. You thought about what was happening with Dave once he found you missing. You knew that he had your location through your phone and car but guessed that Tom probably ditched both of those things. Even with Dave’s endless resources, you knew it’d be a long shot if he found you, but you still hoped. You tried to steady your breathing in hopes of calming yourself down, knowing that now was not the time to panic. As you took a few deep breaths, you heard a door open and close, and then footsteps echo through the room. A dark figure stood just outside of the light and stared at you through the shadows before finally coming closer.

“Tom,” you spat out in disgust.

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” He asked. You bared your teeth at him as you tugged on your restraints. Tom shook his finger at you.

“Now now, babe. You hurt me the other day when that guy showed up. Who is he, new boyfriend? He’s a little old, don’t you think?” Tom taunted.

“Shut the fuck up!” you snapped at him.

“You don’t want to piss me off, baby,” Tom growled as he grabbed your chin and looked into your eyes. You felt fear creep inside of you, and you whimpered in his hold, trying to shake your head free. Tom pulled out a knife and held it up to the light, watching as the blade caught the light, and it seemed to twinkle.

“Tom, please,” you begged. Tom tutted at you.

“Now now, babe. I’d hate to have to use this on you,” he replied as he waved the knife in front of you. Your mind flashed with the last time he had a knife in front of you, and you froze. You remembered the pain, the dull ache of the blade plunging into your body, and the warmth of blood seeming out. You shook your head at the memory and narrowed your eyes at him. No, you weren’t going to give him any power over you again. You took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“I dare you to do it, Tom,” you taunted, hoping your confidence would throw him off. Tom looked at you and scoffed.

“Oh baby, I don’t want to end it so soon. Where’s the fun in that?” Tom said as he put the knife back into its sheath at his side. “I want to draw out our fun. I’m owed three years’ worth after all.” Your blood ran cold at his words.

Three years and then released for good behavior.

What a fucking joke.

“I owe you nothing,” you sneered back. Tom narrowed his eyes at you and bent down to your eye level.

“Baby, you owe me everything. You’re lucky I want to draw this out because either way, I plan to finish what I started,” he threatened as he stood up and walked away from you. You heard the slam of the door, and you broke down. You hoped that Dave would somehow find out where you were and get you, but if Carol were home by now, then he would have his hands full with her and forget about you. You sobbed harder at the thought that you were alone in Tom’s clutches, and nobody was coming to save you.

Dave was livid. He was already pissed and on edge when Carol got home, but when he looked at the camera feed to check on you several hours after Carol had left the house, he was taken back seeing you gone.

She couldn’t have left without me knowing, Dave thought as he rewound the feed. He felt his anger ignite at the image of a figure opening your window while you were in the shower and climbing in to hide in your closet. He felt his blood boil, watching the figure come up behind you and knock you out, amid getting dressed. His blood ran cold when he watched the figure undress and redress you before dragging your limp body out the window.

He changed the camera feed to the street and watched as the figure dumped you into the trunk and took off down the road. Dave was pissed. He was fuming, to the point where you might think there was steam coming out of his ears. He’d been so preoccupied with Carol that he didn’t even think to check on you. Granted, you were asleep last time he’d checked on you, but he’d been so distracted that Tom was able to sneak in and abduct you right under his roof. Oh no, Dave was beyond pissed; he was downright infuriated. Dave was ready to get his hands dirty. More than usual, at least. Dave picked up the phone and begrudgingly dialed Carol’s number.

“Carol, I need you to come back to the house to take care of the girls. Our fucking nanny has been kidnapped,” he angrily spat into the phone.

“What? What happened, Dave?!” Carol screeched into the phone. Dave held the phone away from his ear as not to go deaf from her outburst.

“I said, you need to come back to the house and be a goddamn mother to my daughters for once,” Dave spat. Carol grew silent and whimpered.

“Ok, I’m on my way,” she said. Dave replied with a grunt and hung up the phone, and dialed Resnik.

“Resnik, I need you to pull the street footage from the last day and look for Tom’s fucking car in the neighborhood. You were supposed to be on fucking top of this, and Tom came into my house and took her,” Dave seethed into the phone. “My own goddamn fucking house!” Resnik had been in charge of maintaining your security and safety but had clearly slipped up.

“On it,” Resnik replied. “Sorry, Dave.”

“You’ll be more than sorry if you don’t find out where he took her,” Dave replied angrily into the phone. Resnik gulped on the other end of the line before Dave hung up.

“FUCK!” he shouted as he kicked his desk. Dave was going to do whatever it took to find you. No matter what he had to do.

—TWO WEEKS LATER—

❗️TRIGGER WARNING❗

“Baby,” you heard groaned into your ear as you slowly awoke. You felt a weight on top of you, and you whimpered in pleasure. You were having such a good dream, and it felt so real. You dreamt that Dave was with you in bed, holding you close, before he decided to slide himself into your heat and claim you. It took you a moment to realize where you were and who exactly was on top of you. Your eyes bolted open with fear as you gazed into the eyes of Tom as he thrust back into you with a grunt.

“Oh, baby,” he said as he saw you’d opened your eyes and were awake. “You’re finally awake, baby.” Your throat tightened, and you lost your breath.

No.

No.

No.

This was not happening, you thought. You felt Tom’s hands on your thighs, spreading them further as he drilled into you. Tears began to stream down your face at the truth of what was happening. You felt dirty. Disgusted. Violated. You tried to push Tom off you, but he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Now now, baby. Don’t be a bad girl. Just take it like a good girl, and it’ll all be over,” Tom jeered at you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to disassociate yourself with this. Instead, you thought of Dave and of happier times.

“I don’t think so. Open your eyes,” Tom demanded as he slapped you with his free hand. Your cheek stung at the contact, and you gave in to his demand. The less you fought back; the less likely Tom would hurt you. You silently prayed that Dave would find you or Tom would just put you out of your misery.

Please, I just want it to be over.

  ❗️END TRIGGER❗

  —TWO MONTHS LATER—

It had been months now, that much you knew. You’d been trying to keep track of the days by how much light shined through under the door, but it was harder than you thought. You knew that people had probably thought you were long dead by now. You imagined your family having a funeral for you, your friends being there with them, and maybe even Dave and the girls. Your heart broke at the thought, but you’d run out of tears to shed. You’d run out of tears nearly a month ago when you realized that nobody was coming for you. Tom had told you himself a month ago that the news outlets had stopped posting your missing person poster and that the cops had stopped actively looking for you.

“I’m better off dead,” you said to yourself as you hugged your knees to your chest and cried. This was torture, and you knew that sooner or later, Tom would kill you anyway; you just knew that the sadistic bastard was going to draw it out for as long as he could.

—THREE WEEKS LATER—

You groaned as you threw up into the bucket for the fourth time today. This was the third day in a row that you’d thrown up, and you were exhausted. Tom had still visited you almost every night but was starting to treat you somewhat better than he had been. By that, you meant that he’d given you a little air mattress, thicker blankets and would now escort you to the bathroom for a shower once a week. It was better than how he’d been treating you before, but you knew he’d snap at any given moment. Despite how you acted around him, you still wished that he’d just end it all or that someone would somehow save you.

You hoped, but you knew that the chances were getting smaller and smaller with each passing day. Tom took great pleasure in reminding you that nobody would come looking for you if they hadn’t already. You sat back on the air mattress holding the blanket to you and tried to think of the days before Tom held you captive. You thought of the random day that Dave surprised you with flowers in bed after you’d put the girls to sleep. The memory brought tears to your eyes, and you sniffled, trying not to make any noise lest Tom decide to come in and punish you for being too loud.

Too late, you thought as you heard his steps coming towards the door. Tom swung the door open, and blinding light enveloped the room.

❗️TRIGGER WARNING❗

“Get up,” he commanded. You clung onto the blanket as you stood up, trying to shield your body from Tom and keep yourself warm. Tom wasn’t having any of it today, it seemed.

“I said GET UP!” he shouted as he grabbed your arm and yanked. The force of his actions sent you toppling towards him, and he moved out of the way as you fell onto the floor outside your makeshift cell. Tom took the opportunity to kick you in the stomach several times as you grunted in pain. You laid on the floor for a moment before Tom grabbed you by the hair and slammed your face onto the floor as he punched your sides, causing you to cry out in pain.

Those were going to definitely bruise.

“Fuck, you’re pathetic. Get up so you can get the shit smell off you,” he said as he grabbed you by the arm to drag you toward the bathroom. As you walked through the hall, you spied a window at the end of the hall, and it looked to be daylight out.

Why haven’t I noticed that before? You thought to yourself as you began to formulate a plan—a very risky plan, but one nonetheless. Tom walked you into the bathroom and pushed you into the shower. You stumbled but managed to grip onto the wall of the shower for support before Tom started the water, and you felt the cold sting hit your body.

“Hurry it up,” he sneered as he leaned against the wall, watching your every move. You turned and began to strip out of your clothes and used the bar of soak to lather your body.

“Tom?” You croaked out meekly. Tom raised his eyebrow at you. You hadn’t bothered to speak the last few months except to say yes or no, so your speaking took him by surprise.

“What?”

“I – I realize now that you’ve only ever cared about me, and I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. Tom stepped away from the wall and looked at you, unsure if you were serious or not. You took the opportunity to lean out of the shower and kiss him, putting everything you had into the kiss. Tom, loving the newfound affection you were willingly giving him, took the opportunity to join you in the shower, coming to stand under the spray of water with you as he gripped your head and deepened the kiss. It took every fiber of your being not to gag, but you knew that you had to play your part. You took the opportunity to slide your hand down to Tom’s pants and slip in, taking hold of his hard length and began to pump.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned out as he closed his eyes and nuzzled your neck. “Just like that.” You kissed his cheek and then began to get on your knees, gazing into his eyes.

“Let me show you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” you said seductively. Once fully on your knees, you looked up at him as you took his length into your mouth and started to bob your head. In and out. In and out. Tom’s moans filled the bathroom as he turned the water to hot and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“Oh yeah, baby. Such a good girl,” he said as he gripped the back of your head with his free hand. You felt him grow closer to climax and sped up your movements, hoping that your plan would work. You felt Tom grow harder and felt his balls tighten, and just as he was about to hit his peak, you bit down. Hard. Blood poured out of your mouth as you felt the flesh part beneath your teeth.

“FUCK!” Tom yelled as you grabbed his testicles and twisted. He howled in pain as you took the chance to push him down and run out of the bathroom, making sure to close the door to put some distance between the two of you. You could hear Tom yelling out in pain, still in the shower, and heard him stumble, trying to get up. You glanced at the front door at the end of a hallway to the left of the bathroom, and you bolted.

Thank god he didn’t think I’d ever try to escape, you thought as you yanked the front door open and ran outside. You ran out into the street as fast as you could and turned, running to the nearest house, which was a good hundred yards away.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH GET BACK HERE!” You heard Tom yell as you made your way to the neighbor’s home. You chanced a glance over your shoulder and saw Tom holding onto his groin, bleeding onto his pants, as he tried to run after you. You managed to make it to the other house and began to pound on the door.

“PLEASE!!! HELP ME!!!” You shouted in desperation. “PLEASE, OPEN THE DOOR!” You heard a rustling behind the door, and it quickly opened. You came face to face with a middle-aged man and woman, eyes wide, with two children sitting on the couch behind them. You must’ve been quite a sight, completely naked and bruised, running for your life, with blood around your mouth and face. The man saw Tom behind you and quickly huddled you into the house as his wife grabbed the phone and called 911. The man shut the door and locked it as Tom finally made his way to the door to start pounding on it.

  ❗️END TRIGGER❗

“Get your ass out here now, you bitch!” Tom howled. The wife had brought over a blanket and given it to you as you sat cowering in the corner. Within minutes you heard sirens blaring and cars screeching to a halt outside the house.

“FREEZE!” You heard an officer yell, and Tom cursed. You chanced a look out the window and saw Tom had his hands up and was kneeling on the ground as an officer came up to cuff him, while another officer came to the door. The couple who’d taken you in opened it, and they looked at you.

“Ma’am, I’m officer Smith; I’m here to escort you to the hospital. We have an ambulance waiting outside,” he said as he held out his hand to you. You clutched the blanket tight to your body as you got up on shaky legs but then collapsed. Officer Smith took it upon himself to pick you up bridal style and carry you to the ambulance as you watched over his shoulder as Tom was placed into the back of a squad car, yelling obscenities the entire time. You looked back at the house and saw the couple watching through their doorway, and the woman nodded to you as you gave her a small smile. You felt pain radiate through your entire body, but you were finally safe.

—AT THE HOSPITAL—

You laid in the emergency room waiting for a doctor to come and see you. You’d been poked and prodded by several nurses and techs, and you were now awaiting the results of the bloodwork and scans that they’d done to see the extent of the damage Tom had caused. You had been given some painkillers to help with the pain, but it didn’t seem to do much. You laid there staring at the ceiling and hoping that this hell could be over with. You heard the door to your room open, and a woman with a clipboard in her hand pulled the curtain back.

“Hello, dear, I’m doctor Chase. How are you feeling?” She asked. You shrugged.

“The painkillers have been somewhat helping, but otherwise, I feel like absolute shit, doc,” you replied. She gave you a small smile and looked down at her clipboard.

“I’m not sure, but has anyone come in and told you the results of the tests?” she asked. You shook your head, unsure of where this was going.

“No, I’ve pretty much just been waiting,” you replied. Doctor Chase sighed and came over to take your hand in hers.

“Sweetie, I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but you were pregnant,” she stated. Your eyes widened as you looked at her.

“I – what? Were?” you managed to croak out in disbelief.

“Judging from your hormone levels and the size of the fetus, you were about four to four and a half months along,” she said. Tears brimmed your eyes.

That meant that it was Dave’s baby.

You had lost Dave’s baby.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, dear, but with the abuse that your body had gone through and the lack of nourishment, you just weren’t able to sustain the pregnancy any longer. It looks like what caused the miscarriage was the injuries you’d gotten to your abdomen,” she explained. “We will have to perform a procedure called a dilation and evacuation, or a D&E, to make sure that your body doesn’t go into shock and cause any issues.” You nodded at her words as she got up, but you were still processing the news.

You’d been pregnant.

With Dave’s baby.

A life that you had created with him.

And Tom had killed your baby.

Again…

Tears streamed down your face as the nurses came to wheel you to the operating room to perform the procedure, and as you were being wheeled, you grabbed the nurse’s hand nearest to you and looked at her.

“Please, could you call Dave?” You begged, not wanting to wake up alone without him.

“Dave?” she asked. You nodded.

“Dave York, please.” She nodded, and you thanked her before they got you under the glaring lights of the operating room. You felt them put a mask over your face and told you to count down from 10.

10…

9...

8…

And your world went dark.

RING! RING! RING!

Dave glanced down from his computer and saw Resnik’s name on the caller ID.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Dave, it’s about her. She’s been found,” Resnik said into the phone. Dave’s heart stopped. He’d been looking for you nonstop since Tom had abducted you, and he’d grown more and more agitated with each passing day. You’d been gone for three months, and the authorities had given up on you. Dave was a little impressed with how well Tom had disappeared from the face of the planet, but his rage was beyond comparison. He was ready to do rip Tom apart piece by piece when he got his hands on him.

“Where is she?” Dave said as he got up from his desk and made his way to his car, ignoring Carol in the kitchen as she looked on curiously.

“She’s at the Lawrence Memorial Hospital of Medford. I’ve sent you the address,” Resnik replied. Dave thanked him and hung up, punching in the address to make his way over to you. He’d driven nearly two hours before he was within city limits and when his phone rang again, this time an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered as he grew closer to the hospital.

“Hello, is this Mr. York?” said a voice.

“This is he,” Dave responded.

“Hi, Mr. York. This is Jenny calling from Lawrence Memorial Hospital. I have a,” she paused, shuffling some papers around and read him your name. “I have her asking for you. She told us to give you a call, but you’re not listed as an emergency contact.”

“I’m a close friend,” Dave replied. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Ok, when you get in, please go to the emergency room lobby and let them know you’re here.” Dave ended the call and quickly sent Resnik a text to track down Tom and get him out of the authorities’ hands. He wanted to deal with Tom himself. Dave pulled into the hospital's parking lot and made his way inside to the emergency room lobby as instructed. When he walked up to the receptionist, he wasn’t sure what he would say, but he braced himself for anything.

“Hi, I’m Dave York. I believe I spoke with a Jenny earlier when she called me,” he suavely said as he looked at the receptionist.

“Hi, Mr. York! I spoke with you earlier, yes,” Jenny replied, swooning at Dave. “She is recovering in room four from surgery, but you can go on back.” Dave nodded to Jenny with a wink and walked over to the door to take him to the rooms. He heard a buzz and the door unlock, and he swiftly made his way to room four. Once outside, he saw a clipboard and a file. He looked around to ensure he wasn’t seen and opened the file, and read the contents.

Multiple fractured ribs.

Bruising on thighs and arms.

Lacerations on the lip.

Mild concussion.

Miscarriage – D&E advised.

Dave looked at the last bit before rereading it. And again. And again.

What?

It can’t be.

She - no, he thought to himself as he placed the file back into its place and walked into the room quietly. He drew back the curtain, and his breath hitched in his throat. There you lay hooked up to several machines with the quiet beeping of your heartbeat on the monitor. You looked beautiful, even with all the bruising and injuries. He walked over to your bedside and saw that you were still asleep, so he pulled up a chair and grabbed your hand, laying a gentle kiss on it

“I’m here, sweet girl,” he whispered as he kissed your hand and waited. “I’m here.”

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (7)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Three women on a bridge, two pairs of feet on the ledge, and one problem that’s easier to solve than you think.

Warnings: angst (but maybe fluff later? 👀), ghosts/demons, slightly graphic blood mentions, attempted bridge jumps/suicide, funeral/car crash/death/grief mentions

A/N: I won’t say that this is the last chapter because I do have an idea for an epilogue...it’s just a matter of whether or not I can execute it properly. anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts on what I hope is not a shitty (almost) conclusion!

Previous part

-

“Hey, I thought you were at Wanda’s tonight?” Mia asked, greeting you with a smile as you passed her on the way to your room.

“I am. I just have to grab something.”

You closed the door behind yourself and opened your closet door, using an old storage bin to climb up and reach the tallest shelf. Once the locked box was safely in your hands, you stepped down and grabbed the key taped to the back of your dresser on your way to the bed. The journal and newspaper tumbled out as soon as you unlocked the top, and you took a deep breath to distract yourself from the sudden wave of nausea.

“There.”

You looked up to see a shadowy finger pointing at the picture in the article, and seeing the wreckage again in your conscious state seemed to knock the air out of your lungs.

“That’s home.”

“That’s not home,” you snapped as you met her eyes. “That’s nothing but a grim reminder of what used to be.”

“It’s home, and you’re going there.” When you blinked, you saw a flash of Wanda bleeding out in the same spot you left her, and you gasped as your eyes opened again. “Glad to see I have your attention. Let’s go.”

You quickly made your way out of the apartment again, leaving the light on in your room because you were afraid of what you would see in the dark corners. Once you were in your car, you began your drive down to the place you hadn’t seen since the accident, parking a few feet away from the stop sign with an upset stomach and a heavy heart. As you got out of the car again, you noticed the pole you’d crashed into had been replaced and all the glass and debris were long gone.

“Why am I here?” you questioned, keeping your voice low to match the atmosphere of the nearly silent neighborhood.

“You’re supposed to be on the bridge.”

“The crash didn’t happen there,” you recalled, but you found your feet moving toward the metal staircase anyway.

Your heartbeat seemed to line up with your echoing steps as you made your way up to the bridge, and a sinking feeling told you that this may be the last setting sun you see. Your eyes watered in the orange light as you faced the crash scene again, managing to keep your eyes on it as you climbed onto the ledge and took a seat.

“Why are you sitting?”

“Because I don’t want to do this,” you exhaled as you began to cry again. “I know why you brought me here but I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, I didn’t want to die because you don’t know how to look both ways in an intersection, but here we are.”

“I looked both ways, but the other driver was speeding! How is that my fault?”

“I told you--begged you--not to leave me behind and you did.”

“For fucks sake!” you yelled as you turned your head toward her. “I had to call for help so you wouldn’t die in the car!”

“Instead, you let me die alone in a hospital room. Huge improvement.”

You dropped your head to watch your fingers run along the concrete, listening for any kind of noise from the surrounding area and sighing when there wasn’t a single sound to be heard. Part of you was certain that the being beside you had something to do with that, but you couldn’t be bothered to ask anything else when you knew it might just start a fight. You hated the way it made you feel, taking you back to that very night when you were walking on eggshells around your extremely intoxicated best friend.

“Get up,” the voice suddenly snapped, and you groaned once you recovered from the shock.

“I told you I’m not ready!”

“It’s either you or her.”

The sound of car doors closing came from your left, and you seemed to move on autopilot as you stood up on the ledge, keeping your eyes on the pair as you did so. The wave of nausea grew taller and lasted longer, and you felt the familiar trails down your cheeks headed for your chin.

“Don’t come any closer,” you finally managed to say, feeling a bit of relief when they stopped.

“Baby, please come down,” Wanda choked out, and oh how you wish she hadn’t spoken. Just hearing a second of her soothing voice made you want to run into her arms and never look back, but you knew who would pay the price if you did that.

“I can’t...I have to do this,” you sobbed as you heard the voice from the other side encouraging you to hurry in an angry tone. “It’s the only way to stop her.”

“Y/N, I know it seems that you’ve made up your mind…” You watched Mia pull something from her pocket and hold it up in the air. “...but if you give me a chance, I think I may be able to change it.”

You squinted a bit to try and figure out what she was holding without allowing her to come closer. Every bone in your body yearned to gravitate toward the pair, knowing that you’d feel safer and comforted once you were surrounded by their warmth, but the furious protests stopped you from doing so.

“I’ve had too many chances,” you fought back, frowning when you noticed Wanda locked eyes with Mia for a second before facing you again.

“If you’re going to jump, then I’m coming with you,” she told you calmly as she climbed onto the ledge a short distance away, and you instantly panicked.

“No, you can’t do that!”

“Why not?” she challenged you.

“Because I love you, and I don’t want you to die, especially not like this. You deserve so much better.”

“So do you!” she cried out as she dared to take a step toward you. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“No, Wan, I have to die,” you insisted as you took a step back. “I’ve loved every second of being with you and you’re nothing short of perfect, but I should’ve died a long time ago with my friend. She didn’t deserve to go alone.”

“If she was really your friend, she wouldn’t want this for you.” She took another step, and you found yourself falling into her comforting gaze. “She’d want you to live the life she couldn’t.”

“I hear her everyday, and I don’t think she agrees with you.”

“Okay, so I’m not a therapist obviously,” Mia cut in as the two of you faced her from the ledge. “But are you sure you aren’t just hearing the voice of your own guilt?”

“What?” was all you were able to get out as the raging voice behind you seemed to quiet down.

“You told me that she kissed you and confessed her feelings for you before you left the party. No matter how angry or emotional she was in that moment of you turning her down, she wouldn’t be haunting you like this if she really loved you. Whether it was friendly love or more.”

“Don’t listen to her. She wasn’t there.”

You turned to the other side to glance at your ‘friend’, who seemed to look a lot less like her now. Bitterness and rage became evident in her expression, which really seemed to help Mia’s point. You almost never saw her direct those emotions toward you, even when you’d done something wrong. Still, you had to be sure.

“What were you going to show me?” you asked as you turned to look at Mia again.

“It’s the obituary from the funeral,” she explained as she began unfolding it. “I know you didn’t go, so I thought maybe you’d like to hear what your best friend really thought of you. Her parents included a page from an old journal they found.”

You listened with tears in your eyes as you heard the girl who was once the first and last person you spoke to everyday describe you with words you’d never even considered for yourself. With each sentence, it was more and more obvious that she’d been in love with you far longer than you realized, and the thought comforted you more than it hurt, to your surprise. As the dam broke and breathing became a bit harder, you turned to the entity one more time and a look of understanding seemed to pass between the two of you. You understood that you weren’t in the company of a friend, and she understood that you could no longer be fooled.

“I’m sorry,” you addressed Wanda as you carefully approached her on the ledge, grabbing her hands as they stretched toward you. “I know I’ve put you through hell in the last few months, but I promise to only make you feel as loved as you’ve made me feel, even at my lowest.”

“You already do, detka.”

You couldn’t help but grin as she wiped away any lingering tears with her thumbs before stepping off the ledge and pulling you down into a bone-crushing hug. A breathless laugh escaped you as Mia crashed into you from behind, and you sat there in a comforting silence for another few minutes. You tossed your keys to Mia once you pulled apart after she offered to take your car home, catching a glimpse of the daunting presence as you looked out onto the street below. She was staring at you from beside the pole that replaced the one you crashed into with blood pouring down her side, and just when you felt yourself getting a bit worked up again, Wanda’s warm fingers squeezed yours and reminded you of the safe haven you’d been gifted.

“Thank you for making it in time,” you told Wanda once you were sitting in the car. “You always know the right thing to say or do and when, and I thought maybe it was a side effect of teaching small children for years. Really, it’s just a side effect of being a perfect angel.”

She let out a surprised giggle at your words and leaned over to kiss you for the first time in hours. She didn’t let it go far, simply pulling away and lacing her fingers through yours again as she drove off the bridge and began heading home.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really glad I ran out of paprika.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @nazyalenskysbabe @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore @ravvakin96 @leximills2004 @smolgayhooman @ajlawinters @sanctuaryofgods777 @midnightreme @moonlightxmadness

[anime-academix]

Natural Hair

A/N: Ah, here’s my first scenario! This was actually a lot longer than I thought it would be...but you know, it is what it is. I’m still relatively new to writing these so I hope you all enjoy these and I will be doing my best! This scenario was kind of personal...and to all my black girls out there who have gone through this, please know that our hair is beautiful; no matter what anyone says, we are beautiful and unique! Anywho, enjoy this scenario! (DON’T FORGET TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS, I WILL TRY MY BEST TO GET TO THEM AS SOON AS I CAN ❤️)

Bakugo:

Though you loved wearing your protective hairstyles, you were insecure about your natural hair. However, growing up in Japan, you were all too familiar with the beauty standards in the country, especially when it came to hair. It was always difficult to find hair products to match your hair texture--that in which you almost always had to order them from international stores-- not to mention the random strangers who were always touching your hair, and some students would poking fun at it.

To Bakugo, he had no idea you were insecure about your hair, because it was something you never brought up. Truth be told, the boy loved your hair. He always found it fascinating to watch you do your hair in the dorm on weekend nights. Even everytime you came to school with a new hairstyle, Bakugo would always find a way to compliment your hair, always adding that you were beautiful.

It was very rare that you wore your natural afro to school, but today, you wanted to try something different.

You poofed up your afro a few more times before adjusting your uniform. A small smile appeared on your lips, impressed with your hair’s ability to cooperate this morning. The last time you had worn your afro natural was this past summer when your grandparents came to visit, but then it was only for the weekend.

A loud knock could be heard at your door.

“Hey, hurry your ass up! Just ‘cause we live on campus doesn’t mean we can take our time to get to class,” Bakugo said on the other side of your door. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your backpack, putting your arms through the loops. Walking over to the door, you paused and felt your cheeks heat up. This would be the first time he would be seeing you wear your natural hair to school.

What if he hated it? Or thought it was goofy looking? You thought to yourself before pausing and shaking your head. You turned the knob to your door, pulling it open to reveal your spiky haired boyfriend. He was leaning against the door frame when you opened the door.

His eyes widen at your sudden change of appearance. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. It caught you off guard and you felt your face heat up even more. “It’s something different, I just wanted to try this style...oh god, do you not like it?” You began ranting, before you could finish he tsked.

“Hey, don't speak for me,” he growled, lifting himself from off the door frame. “You look beautiful. I always love seeing the many things you can do with your hair,” Bakugo told you, snaking his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

Call it cheesy or whatever, but you couldn't help the flood of butterflies that invaded your stomach at his sweet words. “Suki...” you said softly, looking at him.

“But if you tell anybody I told you that, I’ll kill you,” he defended, removing his arm from around your waist and fitting his hand in yours as you both head off to class.

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

By the time you got into your homeroom class, all of Class 1A was gawking in awe at your hair. Your other classmates were practically toppling over each other to get a closer look at your hair, some even asking if they could touch your afro. 

“Girl, your hair has so much volume! Did you try that new curl cream? See, I told you, you gotta get rid of that Cantu stuff and your hair will thank you!” Mina squeaked. Bakugo looked at you then at Mina with an obvious look of confusion written on her face. 

“It looks so soft!” Ochaco commented.

“It’s so pretty! How long does it take for you to get that style?” Momo questioned, placing her hands on her hips. Others nodding in agreement with Momo’s question.

You smiled at your classmates, blinking at the sudden bombardment of comments and questions. 

Bakugo scoffed and leaned against your chair. “Alright. Back up you damn nerds,” He muttered, shooing them away. Bakugo began heading back to his seat, sneaking in a wink which made you blush. 

There was an unanimous “awe” as they all began to disperse. All except for one. Mineta. 

“Why are you all so obsessed with her hair? I mean come on, it just looks...what the word...oh! Nappy...” Mineta announced, which caused you to stiffen. Everyone paused and exchanged uncomfortable glances at each other. “I’m serious, guys! It looks so distracting and messy.” 

“Dude, stop it,” Kaminari interjected.

He stepped closer to you and pressed his hand into your hair, grabbing a handful of curls. “But hey, it’s okay. Your hair may be ugly, but at least it doesn't distract me from your nice rack,” he added, smirking. 

Before anyone could even respond, there was a low rumble filling the room. The students all stiffened, and turned their attention to the source of the noise. It was none other than your boyfriend. He had gotten up from his seat, walking towards your desk, setting off small explosions in his hands. His face was painted with a never before seen look of anger, rage pooling his eyes. It was enough to send goosebumps down your spine.

“You want to fucking say that again, you waste of space?” Bakugo challenged through gritted teeth.

“Hey! You two, we cannot resort to violence! Let’s sit down and talk this out!” Iida offered. Bless his heart for his attempts but it would be rendered useless. The ash-blond spiky haired boy, hated Mineta deeply. He hated the sexual comments he made about you and even suggestive gestures in front of you. There were several times where he’s gotten close to sending Mineta to the emergency room, but you and Mr. Aizawa always came in just in time to put a stop to it. Calming down Bakugo was like trying to stop an already erupting volcano. 

Mineta released his grasp from your hair and begin backing up, fear reeking his whole body. “I...uh...heh...it was...” He stuttered.

“Katsuki...no, leave it alone, it’s fine,” you told him, standing up from your seat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m not gonna send him to a funeral home...I’d think, it’s been a while since you’ve visited Recovery Girl, HUH?!” He growled, lunging towards him which evoked a loud scream from Mineta.

“Katsuki, no!” You yelled, stepping in front of him quickly. You pressed your hands against his chest and attempted to hold him back. “Please, just leave it alone. Don’t start anything, please...for me?” You said softly, moving your hand to rest on his arm, then eventually down to his hand.

He would be lying if he said that your voice and even touch alone didn’t calm him down. You’re one of the rare individuals in his life who can pull him out of rage fit and even a soon to be crime scene, and this time was no different.

His eyes stared into yours as you watched the rage in his eyes dissipate and his tense body loosen. You offered him a small smile, giving his hands a soft squeeze, receiving a growl in response. He pulled his hand from yours with a huff and went back to his seat.

You turned to Iida who mouthed a relieved ‘Thank You’ then turned your eyes to Mineta who was standing there engulfed in fear and...pee? Oh my...the boy peed himself, you thought in disbelief as you sat back down in your chair.

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

Walking back to the school dorm, your head was full of thoughts. Throughout the school day, you’d be lying if you said what Mineta said didn't bother you. You knew his words out of everyone should matter the least, but you couldn't help but ponder on those words: Nappy, Distracting, Ugly. Ugh, it was like primary school all over again. How could you forget all those days when the other students would make fun of your hair, sticking school supplies in your afro and even grabbing your hair when you asked them to stop. And of course all the boys you had crushes on but they turned you down because they thought your hair was too ugly and weird. 

What if Bakugo actually thought the same thing? That your hair was ugly and messy and he was just trying his best to be nice about it. You thought to yourself.

By the time you reached your dorm room, you had tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You turned the knob, pushing open the door. As soon as the door closed, locking it behind you, you dropped down to your knees, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Broken sobs left your lips as you doubled over on the ground. 

Truly, you didn’t understand. Why people would waste their time bullying someone because of their differences--and even something they cannot change. You didn’t have straight hair like Tsuyu and Ochaco. You didn’t have luscious hair like Momo and manageable hair is Mina. You hated the fact that you had much thicker hair which took you hours to just wash and detangle. You hated that your hair would shrink when you washed it. Truth be told, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Bakugo hated the fact that he couldn’t run his fingers through your hair when you cuddled late at night. 

You had finally gotten the strength to stand to your feet, tossing your book bag aside and taking off your shoes. You collapsed on your bed, attempting to silence your sobs into your pillow. You had thought you had done a pretty decent job being quiet until you heard a faint knock on your door. Immediately, your breathing hitched. Oh no...who is that? Did they hear me? You thought to yourself. Slowly, you lifted your head from your pillow and turned to the door. As useless as it probably was going to turn out, you decided you try to remain quiet in hopes that whoever knocked would just walk away.

Despite your hopes, the person knocked again. “Y/N...it’s me...will you please let me in.” Instantly, you recognized that voice. It belonged to your boyfriend, Bakugo. Oh no...okay, he couldn't have heard me crying. Shit, what if he did? He’s gonna ask why I’m crying...If I tell him, he’d probably think I’m being stupid and--

“I know you’re in there, Y/N. Just open the damn door! Please...” He added pulling you from your thoughts, knocking again. There was a brief moment of silence and stillness. You heard him let out a sigh.

“Please...did I do something?” he questioned, a slight pang could be heard in his voice. “If I did, I’m sorry...will you please let me in so we can talk.” His fist unraveled as he pressed his palm against the door. Truth be told, Bakugo had no idea what he had done. He tried to think back to the past couple of days to see if there was something he said that caused you to cry. It couldn't have been the usual banter between the two of you because you could tell when it was all just jokes and he knew when not to cross the line. 

Your heart broke hearing his words. It wasn't him, not at all. How were you going to tell him it was because of your hair. He’d laugh at you and think you were being childish. But he didn’t deserve to be shut out. A soft sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself off the bed and headed to the door. You unlocked it and opened it just slightly. He pushed open the door and before you could react, he engulfed you in his arms. You were completely taken by surprise.

Bakugo closed the door behind him with his foot before pulling away, his hands remaining on your shoulders. Concern washed over his face seeing the current state you were in. Your eyes were red, dried tear stains streaked down your puffy face. “Y/N...” He started. “It’s not you, Bakugo,” You choked out, feeling the tears cloud your vision yet again. In a blink of a moment, his face softened as he wiped away a tear that had fallen with his thumb.

“Then why are you crying?” He asked softly. Your eyes shifted down as you remained silent. You couldn’t help but chuckle in your head because it was humorous almost. Bakugo was always so loud and aggressive around other people but it’s moments like these when you got to see this softer side of him. 

He took note of your silence and scowled slightly. “Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on? Did I hurt you?” He paused and dropped his hands immediately. “Do you not trust me, Y/N?” He questioned, not missing the slight crack in his voice.

You shook your head, as your eyes remained glued down to the floor. “No, Katsuki. I do trust you...it’s just...” A sigh left your lips as you hugged yourself. “If you trust me then tell me what’s going on. We promised not to hide things from each other!”

“I can’t...” You whispered. “What?!” He argued back, both of you knowing full well he heard you. “I said I can’t, Katsuki!” You said, raising your voice. His brow furrowed at the use of his full name coming from your mouth. You rarely called him Katsuki. Whenever you did, it would indicate that you were serious. He hated hearing you call him that. Yes, that was his name, but even if he didn’t admit it, it always warmed his heart when you called him pet names, especially Suki. 

“That’s not my name, dammit! And why the hell not?!” Bakugo yelled back. 

“Because it’s stupid! I’m sitting in my room crying because I think my hair is ugly and a fucking mess and I don’t have luscious beautiful hair like all those other girls in this school! I c-can’t...just wake up in the morning, brush my hair and go out looking beautiful! I have to...to...go through fucking hell just to look presentable, every single day, just to be dragged down and treated like shit because my hair texture is different! Do you know how many days I came home and cried to my mom because the kids in my class would bully me because of my hair?! God, I sound so stupid!” By now you were crying your heart out. As your sobs filled the room, you pressed your palms onto your eyes, crying into your hands. 

Bakugo said nothing in response. He had no idea you felt this way about your hair. If anything, he was obsessed with your hair and impressed with the many things you could do with it. He truly believed that your hair added to your beauty. His heart broke seeing your fragile state. In this moment, he didn’t care how he looked, he didn’t waste another second and wrapped his arms around you. Once you felt his embrace, you collapsed your weight into his body and he held onto you, eventually dropping to the floor, holding you close against his chest, pressing a few soft kisses in your hair.

After a while, you finally calmed down, sniffling and playing with the cuff of his sleeve. “You’re such a dumbass, you know?” Bakugo finally said. You were taken by surprise. “Because you convinced yourself that you sound stupid telling me about your problems. How many times have I told you that you can always come to me to talk about what you’re going, no matter how big or small.” He said to you as he continued to rock you in his arms. “And how many times do I have to tell you that you are beautiful. Your hair is beautiful and everyone else’s shitty opinion is stupid and irrelevant. I don’t care that you don’t have stupid straight hair, I love YOUR curls, Y/N. I love that you go to sleep wearing your bonnet at night and that you contribute so much time to take care of your hair and can do all those fancy smiles. I’d take your hair texture over anyone else’s in a heartbeat and I want you to always remember that. You’re no match for those damn extras out there, ya hear?” 

You looked up to meet his eyes which were already on you, nodding softly in response. “Good. And if you ever feel like that again, you better come to me and talk about it. I know you can handle your own, but if any of these damn nerds are making fun of you, you come tell me and I’ll deal with them.” He growled. You stared up at him, smiling. Oh you were so in love with this boy. 

“What?” Bakugo questioned. Your smile turned into a grin before you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Suki,’ you said softly. A faint blush painted his cheeks as he tsked, “Yeah, yeah.” He smirked slightly and took the opportunity to kiss your lips before pulling away.

“I’m still gonna kill that damn grape,” he muttered. “Hey, no no. It’s fine. I’ll deal with him. Plus...you already made him wet himself. This is the third time this month, give him a break, love. If he says something, I’ll handle it.” Bakugo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Tch. Fine. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop watching his and everyone else’s every move,” He told you.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. But for now, cuddles, please” you pouted, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he tightened his grip around you before standing up to his feet and walking the two of you over to your bed. 

[zigtheeortega]

calm before the storm

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 2.5k

✿ warnings: loss, death, funeral – angst.

✿ author’s note: i didn’t necessarily think that bryce was written ooc, but the whole post-funeral sequence was pretty weird to me. i’m someone who copes very similarly to bryce, so i could see myself reflected in him a lot. and i thought the s*x scene was very oddly placed so, here’s me warping canon again bc i’m dissatisfied! lmao hope u enjoy <3 also this fic is very close to me emotionally – i experienced two close deaths in april and june. 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

He blinked and he was back home. Couldn't remember how he got there. He was on autopilot and didn’t have a clue until he’d already wasted so much time. When night came, he couldn’t recall what he’d done that day.

The days between the diagnostics team finding a cure were torturous, the mere thought of not knowing what the future held – for the first time in his life – shaking him to his core.

He found himself paying close attention to Keiki. Each sarcastic quip, rude comment, or joke at his expense, he listened, soaking it up, no thoughts about the problem back in Hawaii. He whole-heartedly enjoyed her. Through one of the hardest times in his life, he was rekindling a relationship that never should’ve fallen apart.

The night he spent with Spencer, cuddled up next to her in his starchy hazmat suit, was the most daunting of them all. He was smiling and flirting with her, a little bit of his normal self shining through, but the crushing weight of his reality was distracting him.

This could be the last time that you see her smile.

God, he knew he had a killer smile of his own, but hers put the whole damn sun to shame. Her grin lit up her whole body, like every atom in her body was in it. And despite her sunken in eyes, her pale, sickly appearance, she still emitted those same infectious rays that he was eager to soak up.

This could be the last time that you hold her.

He curled himself around her, spooning her like he’d done a handful of times before. What he wouldn’t give to have a faceful of her hair again, the tropical scent so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but associate the scent of coconut with her.

This could be the last time that you feel her.

He stroked her face with a gloved hand, wishing for nothing more than to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips again. He pressed into her, hoping she could feel his warmth through the thin layer of fabric.

When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, overcome with exhaustion, his mind wandered to the possibility of it all being over.

And he couldn’t cope with that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

When the treatment worked, and both she and Rafael were cured, it was the first time in months he’d experienced genuine joy. He didn’t know what higher power out there was looking out for him, but he silently thanked the universe for looking out for her. And for putting her in his life, and decidedly keeping her there.

The funeral was too much for him.

Seeing the two caskets, sealed tight, the endless arrangements of flowers, the sea of black clothing… it was overwhelming. Foreign. Like he was intruding on something so intimate that wasn’t meant for him to see.

And the sounds. He’d never forget it. Choked sobs from every angle, constant sniffling, a sporadic wail. The atmosphere made him antsy. His suit was itchy, his shoes were uncomfortable, and he was surrounded by grief.

Both Danny and Bobby meant a lot to Edenbrook, but it was nothing compared to what Spencer meant to him.

He must’ve slipped into auto-pilot (again), because before he knew it, the funeral was over, and he was outside of her apartment.

Wordlessly, he wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo enough to bring him to tears. He was so fucking close to losing that forever. His free will to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her.

She invited him in, and every step to her room felt like each string that held him together was snapping, his sutures buckling under the weight he carried.

He was digging deep, trying to pull any kind of genuine quip from within him, to maybe – just maybe – convince Spencer he was okay.

But did he want to keep her in the dark?

Opening up was so fucking hard for him. Either he was a burden or he was let down by the people he confided in.

Trustworthiness was hard to come by, and Bryce knew that. That’s why Spencer was the first to know about Keiki, about his parents, about him. Not entirely, since he wasn’t ready for that just yet, but he was getting there.

It was a slow process, and he revered Spencer’s patience. Not once did she get upset with him for not sharing every detail.

And he almost fucking lost that.

His torturous inner monologue that he worked so hard to bury showed up when Keiki did. Guilt ate him alive, anxiety gnawed his insides, and regret feasted on whatever was left.

His mind was a hurricane, angry waves crashing painfully against his subconscious, the storm surge from his repeated trauma more than he could handle alone.

The one person he should’ve let in was almost taken from him, ripped from him like a surfboard after a wipeout.

He was drowning, and he flicked away the only hand that was outstretched for him.

And he almost fucking lost her.

The moment Spencer’s brows furrowed at whatever unconvincing mask he had plastered on his features, he broke.

His throat ached and flexed as he tried to choke back the tears, but he just… couldn’t.

Fuck, you’re so weak. He cursed at himself as the tears started flowing, warm streaks trailing down his bronzed skin, vision blurred like his head was under water. This isn’t about you.

The one time deflection was warranted, he broke down into a blubbering heap at her feet.

Like the angel she was, Spencer coaxed his body towards the bed, settling him against the down comforter before his legs buckled beneath him.

She gathered him in her arms, holding him exactly like he needed (like he wanted, but he didn’t want to admit it out loud).

She held him like he held her – like it was the last time.

The revelation tore him up inside, knowing she’d never take a second of their time together for granted again.

He pulled back, running a shaky hand through his hair, loose strands clinging to his damp forehead.

“I normally can hold it together better.” “You don’t have to do that around me, Bryce. You know that,” she encouraged, eyes still red-rimmed from the funeral.

“You’re the one that almost died, and I’m sitting here crying letting you comfort me,” he laughed through a sob, bouncing his leg on the ground nervously.

“You watched me almost die,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

His chin wobbled, and he rolled his lips to mask it. He took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Spencer, I – have you ever…” He trailed off. Why was this so fucking hard?

“Have I been through this before?”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

She nodded. “Have you?”

“No.”

She nodded again.

“It’s making me think about my life… and the people in it. And things I could’ve done differently… better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw you in that room, after the gas started affecting you, and your face… it –” he bit his lip to hold back a soft sob. “It got me thinking about everything that we didn’t do.”

“Bryce…” she laced her fingers in his, rubbing her thumb methodically over his skin.

“We’ve barely seen each other this year, Spencer. I got caught up with Keiki, and trying to figure shit out, and –” he searched her eyes, tears welling up again. “When I saw you in that room, nothing else mattered.”

“More than one thing can be important to you –”

“You’re important to me, Spence. You deserve better than what I’ve given you this year,” he shook his head, tears spilling over. “I can’t lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me, Bryce. I’m right here,” she practically cooed, trying her best to soothe him.

“I shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. Please,” he whispered.

She pulled back, scooting backward onto the bed to cross her legs, as he stood up, pacing.

“It’s like I’m fucking up left and right with the people who matter to me,” he fisted his pockets, avoiding her eyes as he strode across the room.

“You of all people should know that you can’t take the blame for things that are out of your control,” she murmured softly, tugging at a loose string at the hem of her dress.

“I know I can’t control it and that’s why it makes me want to tear my fucking hair out,” he said through gritted teeth, biting back tears. He didn’t want to cry anymore, but his body had other ideas.

“Bryce, you couldn’t have stopped a bursting gas canister. Nobody could’ve stopped it.”

“That’s not what I’m frustrated over. I’m… I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a dick and making this about me. There’s a lot going through my head right now,” he laughed humorlessly, stopping in the middle of the room directly across from the bed.

“Talk it out with me. I’ve got time,” she smiled encouragingly, folding her hands in her laps politely, like the angel she was.

God, sometimes he was thankful for his parent’s demonic behavior, because if not for the bad karma the Lahela’s accumulated, there’s no way in hell the universe would’ve balanced itself out by placing an angel like her in his path.

“On the one hand I’m angry at myself for not spending time with you like I should’ve,” he chewed his lip for a second, trying to gather his thoughts, before speaking again slowly. “I could’ve lost you and I was more worried about keeping secrets from everyone and dealing with shit on my own, you know? Which I never should’ve done.”

“But you didn’t and still don’t have to tell me anything. You’re allowed to have boundaries,” she interjected calmly.

“But maybe… maybe I don’t want that anymore,” he shrugged out of his tux jacket, draping it over the back of her desk chair as he spoke. “You still barely know Keiki. I barely know Keiki. And I holed myself up when you were waiting there with open arms. I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to burden anybody? I don’t know.” He repeated, downplaying his own self–realization.

“And I’m frustrated because I don’t… know how to deal with this,” he gestured around the room, then to himself. “How to wrap my brain around all of it. This was the first time I lost anybody like this.”

“I wasn’t even super close to Danny and Bobby,” he continued, shoving his hands in his pockets to calm his shaking hands.

“Losing people is always hard. Doesn’t matter how close or distant you are to somebody,” she said, trying to hold his eyes, but he could barely look at her.

He’d never opened up like this before. He was so vulnerable… so exposed, and he was afraid. Afraid she’d run away. That she’d bolt the second he plopped his thick suitcases filled to the brim, nearly bursting with emotional baggage from the past two decades.

“I’m sad about losing them, definitely, and going to a funeral for the first time in my life really fucked with my head but… fuck, I’m gonna sound like such an asshole,” he willed himself to look up from his shoes, staring intently at her. “None of that even comes close to what I felt when I thought I’d lost you.”

“Kyra was hanging on by a thread while I thought you were –” he choked, pressing his lips in a firm line to stop his sobs, which escaped through his nose in short breaths instead.

“I’ve never felt pressure like that. And my life has been nothing but pressure.” The words were freely flowing from him, like a dam held together by a few twigs, snapping to release a flood that neither of them anticipated.

“You had to run towards your problems, not away from them,” she whispered, like she wasn’t sure if he’d agree. But the moment the words left her lips, it was like the puzzle pieces fell into place for him.

Maui should’ve been his safe haven, but from the moment his parents were exposed in every form of news throughout Hawaii, he was itching to leave. The island fever settled into his bones and never left. It was an ever present anxiety he struggled with despite finding a home in Boston, Edenbrook, and Spencer.

When shit went down back home, he ran. When people found out who he was states away from the fallout, he ran. It was predictable, methodical, like an appendectomy. The same muscle memory that sliced skin and fastened sutures with delicate precision pumped his legs until he was as far away from his problems as he could get.

“Everytime I lost somebody, it was because I chose to. This time it was like something was being ripped away from me, and I couldn’t handle it,” Bryce said, a profound statement that caused a pained whimper to escape his lips.

“Bry…” She breathed, scooting to the edge of the bed, gently tugging at his shirt sleeve to pull him down to sit on the comforter.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now, alright? And you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I’m here. You’ve got all of us,” she said, motioning towards the walls of the apartment. “Sometimes just letting it out can take the weight off your shoulders. And you’ve got a heavy load, Bryce.”

She rubbed soothing circles on his back, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m not leaving you.”

He held her eye, doe-eyed gaze piercing – Spencer could see right through him, and god did he love feeling seen.

There was nothing he could say to thank her properly for putting aside her feelings to listen to him for a few minutes. Those few minutes where he unleashed a small portion of the shit he’d been building up for years.

So instead he did what he’d been craving since the moment he saw her behind the glass.

He pulled her into a frenzied kiss, pouring every part of himself into the embrace, wrapping him in her arms like she belonged there, as if he was saying “I’m not leaving you, either. You’re safe now.”

––––

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[if i missed you, i wasn’t able to tag your url! i tagged anybody who interacted w the post so if you want to be removed please let me know]

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

pls scream about Leo a lil bit cause my love for that man is neverending and i live for you guys' blog,,, and ur comte love fuels me??? head empty except for those two pureblood clowns

HNGNGNG I hope that both you and everyone that reads my shenanigans knows how utterly understood I feel when I see anyone stan Comte, if not both of those idiot purebloods bc good lord...I live for two tired fossil men that just want DOMESTIC BLISS. Literally they have no brain cells beyond respect women and we love that for us, it’s spectacular!!

Under a cut bc I went off and is long:

That being said I’d be happy to yell abt Leo!! Where do I even begin, this man was the reason I got into Ikevamp in the first place, and I’ve read just about every single one of his events at this point. He just makes me so TENDER!!!!!! For whatever reason the first thing that came to mind was this one time he lies about being jealous and MC is lolol u a fool if you think I can’t tell when you lie to me. And he’s so fuckiNG SHOOK?????? It’s even funnier because she’s internally like [I’m not 100% sure but for a second there he almost looked mad...time to test this theory even if it’s just A GAME T H E O R Y] And he’s so fucking pikachu meme that shit sends me. I can’t handle the fact that he’s so used to people just assuming he’s fine, that he can handle himself. That he’s lived for so long without really anyone noticing at all. (Comte absolutely notices and will lightly roast him, but doesn’t really push him about it or wants to overstep). And so when MC just actively pays attention and is so gentle with him he’s just floored???

God I’m crying now, but I will just never forget the funeral scene in his fucking rt. This asshole, this absolute moron, straight up tries to come at us with “yOu GeT uSeD tO iT aFtEr HaLf A mIlLeNiUm, i’M nOt SaD”. Like are you serious. Come here and let me hold you before I throttle you. Absolute clown. He’s just always trying so hard to get by on his own and it breaks my heart. How long...how long has he lived just getting by, nursing his own wounds and dragging himself up all by himself. HE LEFT HOME AT LIKE 14 (whatever the fuCK SOME TOO YOUNG AGE) AND RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE HANDS OF PEOPLE THAT HATED HIM FOR HIS TALENT. HE REMEMBERS HIS MENTORS DESTROYING HIS UTENSILS WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PARENTS THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY REJECTED ANY EXPRESSION OF LOVE OR COMPASSION FOR HUMANITY THAT HE CHERISHED SO DEEPLY. I DON’T NEED SLEEP I NEED TO HUG HIM IMMEDIATELY FUCKING HELL.

Like.........there’s just........I don’t know how to explain it, but I once saw it explained so well in a post. It was basically talking about Castlevania, and how in that show Dracula sees humanity’s folly and develops so much hatred he just goes straight to murder rage. And while in some ways I understand that, I understand even more deeply Trevor’s response to humanity’s fear and violence. He says that he knows they’re short-sighted, that maybe we all just don’t deserve saving...but that he’s going to do it anyway. Leonardo just so much gives me that energy of knowing there’s so much pain in the world, but all we can do is keep walking--keep trying, even if we have to claw our way forward. Because if you only see the awfulness in front of you, you forget the way that strangers make silly faces at babies to make them laugh on the train, how a friend will put everything down to race over to someone and comfort them with some ice cream--do anything they can to distract them from the hurt. How the sight of a child crying will prompt careful cooing from a stranger as to their bravery, an offering of cool water, the gentle placement of a bandaid. How a pair of teenagers will spot a lost child in milliseconds and help them seek out their parents protectively. There is so much wretchedness, but also so much beauty in it all, and the older I get the more I see myself wanting to believe in the latter. I want to be hopeful, and easily impressed, and full of love. To be bitter and jaded accomplishes nothing, and only becomes a worsening self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you seek negativity, the more you will find it; and worse, create it.

I also scream a little bit bc like. I’ve gone on and on about how Comte is very obviously in love with MC all the time, and sure that may be true. But...I really don’t think Leo is exempt from that either if I’m honest lmfao. Only because what does Leonardo do when it isn’t his route? He almost never shows up. Once in a while he might appear for a split second in a scene, but he almost never converses with MC beyond those short moments. While Comte is the one to pine openly, I’d wager Leo is the opposite. He pines in absolute silence, because he knows that if he gets any closer--he’s going to fall. He’s going to enjoy it too much, going to keep seeking out more before he can stop himself. And losing another person he loves...he just can’t do it anymore. In his first meeting story he talks about seeing MC’s eyes and feeling like he’d known them all his life, and even in his MS he speaks to just being completely fascinated by and enamored of her. She doesn’t hesitate, always does her best, meets people head-on and without much hesitation. After a lifetime of people that are probably just immediately interested in him for his talents, or always seeking out his company for the novelty, this is someone that doesn’t give a single fuck if he’s Leonardo da Vinci. Sure she’s aware, and sure she’s impressed to some extent, but her respect--her attraction and admiration--is something that has to be earned. 

There’s something so refreshing about how their love was written. Sure it’s the whole fake marriage to a real relationship, but it’s also a kind of subtle enemies to lovers pulled off masterfully. MC is 100% minding her own business, just wants to do what she must in order to get home, tries to focus on her work to keep from thinking about how much she misses her old life. She doesn’t rely on anyone, doesn’t talk about how hard it is or how scary it is or how confusing. And even Leonardo forgets in his curiosity, is just chillin and also just trying to do the bare minimum to keep from getting too attached--figures he can admire her from a distance. And then he sees her staring at the hourglass. And suddenly, he can’t just watch her do that herself. Just wait for the hard times to pass, just sit with her own loneliness--that hollowing silence. There’s something so moving about it because he reaches out precisely because he knows that feeling to his fucking marrow, and literally just cannot watch somebody else do that to themselves. Sure he’s been dealing with it for three hundred years, BUT THIS GOOD BABIE CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE THIS. SHE WORKS HARD AND DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!!!! And so he drives her crazy as he races ahead of her, intercepting any attempt for her to preserve that silence and hide. She doesn’t see any pattern to it, and that’s just how he likes it--he doesn’t want her to worry about the how or why. 

Like I fully remembering playing in Japanese and being like oh my fucking god this is hilarious, this man is just a wild fucker and I love this. I was enjoying myself, mostly laughing and shaking my head. But then it just gets so, so serious. I was having so much fun that I, like a fool, forgot the anime effect. If you’re having fun, it’s going to come crashing down without mercy soon enough. And it does. He helps a little girl without any hope play her violin again, and maybe I’m just too English major but I was fucking FLOORED when I realized I didn’t see that that was straight foreshadowing. That little girl without hope? That was MC (and by extension depending on how you play, us). Though the metaphor isn’t quite so easily mapped without a physical space, the connection is clear when you think about it. With his careful social awareness, he makes a place for MC to exist in the mansion so naturally--as though she was meant to be there from the start, crafts a positive impression of her presence with each of the residents. And he does it with zero expectation of anything in return; he’s just happy to see her not stressing herself out anymore or trying to do everything alone. MC doesn’t fall in love with him despite their differences, she falls in love with him because they are the same in a singular and all-encompassing way that matters; they both care about other people so deeply, to the point where they will forego any personal needs in order to make that person’s life easier. Whether it be muting their own hardship, or working to involve another person in a new space (or opening up to the point of self-destruction to keep a person from feeling alone), they go above and beyond what anybody asks of them--perhaps strong to the point of their own detriment, in some cases. 

It’s why I always laugh when he says to Sebastian “That cara mia, she has a good heart.” Of course she does, Leonardo; it certainly takes one to know one. 

And because I literally have no brain cells beyond being in fucking love with Leonardo THE LAKE SCENE IS AN AFFRONT TO MY DIGNITY AND SELF-CONTROL. HOW DARE YOU, SIGNORE. HOW DARE YOU ASK ME TO SIT THERE AND WATCH YOU OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME AND NOT BAWL MY EYES OUT AND TRY TO KISS YOU ALL AT THE SAME TIME. SIGNORE “hAhA yOu’Re So SmAlL yOu LoOk LiKe YoU’rE DrOwNiNg In My CoAt.” I WOULD DROWN AND DIE HAPPY--BITCH I TELL YOU THAT.

Like. I can’t think of another route I’ve ever done where I spent a good amount of time like “lmfao this guy is so wild im gonna punch him” to just be in a whirlpool of my own tears, regretting my entire fucking LIFE days later. Like Leonardo’s cultural impact???? Fucking immeasurable, I wish every white man disaster I ever met had a hidden heart of gold in all of his boyish dumbassery, an ICONIC himbo of our time. 

Also because I remembered it before posting and I am Dying^TM. The event where MC was a pureblood and he was human. That entire fucking event. I literally can’t think about it without screaming and crying. Her just so flustered at his reaction to her like “oh look, free real estate” as he plops her in his lap, absolutely no fear, treating her like a princess because of her noble title despite NO NECESSITY BEYOND PLAYFULNESS BUT ALSO STILL MEANING IT IN AN EARNEST WAY, being charming to no END just to see her laugh or look away shyly. 

WHEN HE SAID. WHEN HE SAID “...Can’t leave you alone, or you might go off someplace I can’t follow.” I. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU STRIPPED DEVOTION DOWN TO ITS BARE ESSENTIALS!!!!!! GAH HOW MC HERSELF SAYS “I would tell him the truth but...he’s much too generous for a human. I know he would offer his life without a moment’s hesitation.” How Leo describes the aftermath of her biting him: “Lucky for you, I’m a true gentleman, Unlike my principessa, who took me like a storm” HELLO??????? H E L  L O ???????????????????????? ARE WE JUST GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FACT THAT HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SOUL WHEN SHE BIT HIM???? I--

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(Also as much as I love him the cigarillos have got to go at some point, boy do you have any idea the shit secondhand smoke does good lordt)

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

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Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

~

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

[katie-writes24]

Last Chance

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x reader

Warnings: Language, suggestive material, brief religious content ig, angst, fluff, weddings, bad officiant script (if that makes sense), irl it’s kinda wrong but just go with it.

Part 2

I’ll just get straight to the point, Taylor Swift was the cause of this..... That’s it! You’re welcome, enjoy! Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Oh and also, can we appreciate that I finally figured out to put the ‘keep reading’ feature on because I finally set tumblr up on my computer? Yay me, this is a life changer you don’t even know!

As a kid, Y/N would be dragged to church every Sunday, told to represent her supposedly "religious" family. Her mother would force her into a dress, always reminding her to "sit like a lady" since there were always boys present, and you just never know. They would go and learn about the god above, be thankful that they were brought here, cheer his name. 

When she was fourteen, she went into church on a Monday, this time for a funeral. She automatically noticed the change in tone, obviously, but since then she looked at churches a bit different. They weren't praised as much, they held an entire different meaning, one that wasn’t very happy at all. No, she learned that churches could be just as devastating as celebratory. 

Like now, where people gathered in front of the steps, mingling and wearing expensive clothing. There was a truck on the lawn, workers were shoving different table sets across the road, where a large tent was set up. There was a group of people laughing a couple feet away, all looking down at a little girl with a white dress on. A stretch limousine rolled around and a few women climbed out with grace, all wearing the same pale color. 

Truly devastating. 

Y/N tugged at her own dress, hoping that the simple color would at least help her blend in with the crowd. Maria had told her it would be just fine, and it’s not like a new fancy dress was in her budget. 

Besides, it’s not like anyone here cares about her appearance. They’re not here for her. In fact, she hadn’t found one familiar face yet, which should be a good thing, but Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how many of these guests both parties even knew. 

“Would you ever get married?” 

He scoffed, “Marriage isn’t very meaningful is it, why should I have to document my love for you? As long as we both know it right?”

“Okay...I guess you’re right, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a nice tux.” She wiggled her eyebrows, but it didn’t bother him. 

“Is that all you’d want a wedding for? Because I will gladly put on a fancy tux if it meant you’d be down to-”

“Shut up! No, that’s not all. I’d like one, I’d think it’d be nice. It wouldn’t even have to be a big one.” She could see them by the beach, perhaps even getting married at the courthouse and use their money to blow on a big dinner after. She wouldn’t even mind a service in their apartment, it’s roomy. 

“Well, not like I have anyone for a big wedding anyways…”

She sat down next to him and stroked her fingers through his hair. “We’d invite our friends. I could invite my mom, you know she loves you. We don’t need a bunch of people to have a wedding.”

“Good, because I don’t want a giant guest list where there are different number tables and- a full service and a grand ceremony. I just...I just want you.”

She wonders how much of this is total bullshit. 

From where she’s standing, Y/N doesn’t think anyone would approach her. The lake is quite breathtaking, but the crowd is full of anxiousness and people are patiently waiting for the ceremony to start by the front of the church. 

Some people pass her by, and she picks up on certain terms, like how “beautiful the church is” or “she picked out the perfect dress, Philip was crying it was so pretty” and her favorite “just wait till you see this guy, they are just perfect for each other.”

Perfect. 

“I told you I can’t dance.”

“And I was a fool to not believe you. My feet are killing me,” He smirked and then laughed as she hit his shoulder. 

“Fuck off! Why are we doing this again?” She looked up at the sky that cracked before her, grey clouds mushing together.

“Because dancing in the rain is on my bucket list,” He twirled her around, pulling her close when she fumbled out of the turn. 

“Okay, what does that have to do with me? You’re telling me all your years before we met you couldn’t have gone outside and danced?” She grimaced as she felt drops of water against her skin. 

“Maybe I was waiting for the perfect person to do it with?” A hand wrapped around her waist and she chuckled. 

“Perfect? I am far from perfect,” They met each other’s stare and she got butterflies just seeing that look in his eye. 

“Well, then this is perfect,” The rain started to beat against the cement below them. “You and me, here right now, together. It’s perfect.”

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear anybody approach until they called her name. Y/N turned her head a little too fast, scared that she would be caught, there would be a giant scene, and then she would lose her chance at-

At what exactly? She didn’t know either.

“That’s really you, isn’t it?”

Hercules always was so welcoming, she never felt out of place when she was around him. In fact, he actually had a small smile on now, dressed nicely in his, most likely own, tailored suit. 

“Hey, Herc,” Y/N gripped her own arm, unsure if it was appropriate to go in for a hug. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, I made it myself.” He chuckled and opened his arms, allowing her to view his form. He looked just the same as she had seen him almost two years ago. 

“It’s definitely you! Did that business of yours ever hit it off with the investors?” Maybe she was aiming for small talk in hope of a distraction, she wasn’t ready for the obvious to be out in the open just yet. 

“No, but I’m working with something better. Got a lot of new line ups, good people to work with…” Hercules  trailed off with a fond smile on his face. 

“I’m really happy for you, Herc. You deserve it!” 

He smiled, “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Y/N winced and tried not to fidget. “Still working for the same place, I actually got a promotion a couple months ago, so I’ve been busy with that...But everything else has been...things are going well.” 

Hercules nodded, and just like a wave, tension flooded the air around them. 

Y/N refused to look up and meet his eyes, to either see full curiosity, disappointment or any other mood that would just make her feel sick to her stomach, will have her asking the same question over and over to herself. However, the silence couldn’t stay too long. 

“Y/N, what...why are you here?” 

An older woman was yelling at a worker, wanting more champagne for the bride's suite. She was aggressive, and yet the guests around her weren’t baffled at her behavior in the slightest. Y/N hated entitlement, hated more when the rich forgot that other people aren’t as fortunate enough as them. 

Y/N also hated that Hercules was still staring at her while she was wondering if her own mother would be so stressed as to the point of lashing out at others. 

“How long have they been engaged?” She finds herself asking only to quiet her thoughts of if they were stuck in one place and never seemed to want more. 

“Eight months,” Hercules sighed, never being one to push and always being honest. “Eliza’s sweet, she has a good heart. She’s loyal-”

Ouch.

“And she makes him happy.”

“Do you think we were ever… not happy?” Her eyes finally met his, instantly going soft and trying to word his answer carefully, even though Y/N could see a straight answer on his face. 

“I think...you guys worked around each other well. I think you enjoyed each other’s company, and maybe you might have been in love once, but that’s in the past. Right now, over a hundred people are going to celebrate what’s best for him and Eliza…”

He’s not marrying you, he’s not with you. 

It was something unspoken, but Y/N knew that was what Hercules was trying to get at, letting her know that her presence was unwelcome and that this was for the best. 

Why was she here? Why did she think that today would be the day to confess her feelings that never drifted away? Why was she so selfish, and think that her happiness was more important than-

Someone approaches them rather quickly, and it makes her turn and brace for an attack. 

Instead, it’s just John. 

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, you weren’t invited!” He was loud and he was causing a scene, something Y/N definitely did not want. He actually looked like he was about to jump her, but before he could move any closer Hercules puts his arm on John’s chest to block him. 

“Relax, John,” Hercules looked back at her with a pointed look. “Y/N was just leaving.”

There was a pause, and she almost believed that yes, she was leaving. This was her cue, no one wanted her here, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who is she to ruin a wedding? How could she do something so terrible?

“You should move in,” He ran his hand over her back, listening to her slow breaths. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It’d be nice, having you here all the time?” He knew she was drifting off and probably wasn’t even registering what he was saying. He was proven wrong when she raised her head to look at him in the dark light. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt seeing you all day,” Y/N smirked as he nudged her with his leg. She kissed his chest and smiled down at him. “If I move in, there’s no turning back. Rent is too high for me to be switching back and forth.”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else I'd want you to be.”

Y/N gave him a curt nod, walking backwards a bit before fully turning around. She walked all the way pass the church, passed the parking lot, all the way down to the end of the lake. She was out of sight. 

But there was no way she was leaving. There was no way she was going to give up her last chance. 

Even from where she stood, she could hear the beats of the traditional wedding music pick up, cheers from the crowd pick up as everyone hustled inside. 

Her feet moved before she could even make a decision. 

There was an elderly couple just walking into the room, and luckily the man held the door open for her. She thanked him and took the grand venue in. On each bench there was a bouquet of flowers, a white row leading up to the altar. It was packed, and Y/N could only imagine how many people she was about to shock. 

She sat in an empty aisle seat in the back, and finally realized that Eliza was just reaching the top of the stairs, kissing her fathers cheek before he gave her over to him. 

“Should I get a haircut?”

“No. I like it the way it is. You have nice hair, it’s soft and always so full. Why would you want to chop it off?” She caressed said hair. 

“Eh, it’s too long. I think it’s a hassle to work with when I’m getting ready for work. I don’t know…” He looked in the mirror with a pained face. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her cheek on his back. 

“Well, personally, I like it. But it is your hair. You know I’d love you either way.”

“Are you just being biased?” 

“Mmh, well, I can’t say I don’t like having something to pull on.” She tugged and he whimpered before turning and kissing her, a full grin on his face. 

He looked just like Y/N imagined him. In fact he hasn’t changed, except maybe the circles under his eyes got a bit darker. His hair was neatly wrapped in a ponytail behind his head, sharp tux on, a smile on his face.

Except none of that was for Y/N, it was for another woman. 

Swallowing back the lump in her throat she cleared her throat, tapping her foot nervously as the officiant started speaking. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Alexander and Elizabeth.”

“Stop being such a poor sport.”

“You so cheated! You know what, it’s fine. Because I know what really happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened: Mr. Hamilton sucks at Mario Kart!”

“You take that back!”

“Through their time together, they have realized that their goals and dreams are more meaningful through a combined effort and mutual support provided in love.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You got promoted, Alex! You’ve come so far since we met. You work so hard, you stay late at work, you stress yourself out far too much for my liking. But you got exactly where you wanted to be! And from here you can only go up! I’m proud of you!”

He smiled, kissing her knuckles and thanking her. 

“As we create this marriage, we create a new bond and a new sense of family.”

“I hope our kids have your eyes.”

“If we’re thinking about children, I have no problem shoving them right back if they don’t look exactly like you.”

“Alex, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying. Your eyes, your nose, I even want them to be as witty as you.”

“I hope they don’t have your sense of style.”

“Hey!”

“Now, before we begin the vows, if anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony-”

“You’re acting crazy!”

“No, I’m acting reasonable! You can’t seriously think that you were just going to let this go?”

“Where are we going, Y/N? We’re stuck in this one spot, and I can’t do it anymore!”

“Then don’t!”

“Let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you…” She wiped the tears from her eyes as he held her closely to his chest. “And I’m terrified.”

Y/N stands without letting herself have any more doubts. 

Almost immediately, attention is drawn. There are gasps in the crowd, one woman even let out a horrid yell. The man sitting a couple feet away even scoffs, like Y/N’s idea was ridiculous. It’s enough commotion that causes the bride and groom to look her way. 

Warmth filled her as his brown eyes connected with hers. 

It went in flashes, Alexander’s emotions. First he was a bit confused, almost as to why their loved ones were making such noise. Then, it was anger, finally realizing that it was because someone was objecting to his wedding. And as their eyes connected, it was like he was sad. 

Maybe it was because he hasn’t seen her since she walked out. Maybe it was because she was ruining his special day. Maybe it was because he knew she lost her chance years ago, and that even he knew it was too late. 

Maybe it was because he knew the outcome of this. 

Y/N took a shuddering breath, before saying the three words that could easily crush the hearts of everyone in this room. But she ignored the appalled crowd, she ignored the angry face of John right next to Alex, she didn’t even want to see how broken Eliza must look right now. 

Instead, she focused on the very small quirk of Alexander’s lips, the small chance of hope that was promised. 

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

I never wanted you to die ( Axl x reader)

A/N: Fic requested by this anon. It will be sad as hell, pure angst no happy ending.  Thank you so much to @smokeandmirrorz​ for editing this, he’s the best!

Summary : Y/N who is engaged to Axl is killed, and he finds it out after coming back from touring.

TW: Death, funeral, mentions of murder, sad as shit.

Axl was looking out of the window of his limo, his fingers absently playing with his engagement ring. He smiled because he still couldn’t believe that you said yes, that he was going to be your husband and spend the rest of his life with you. You were constantly in his thoughts. The tour had been wonderful but also tiring, and he missed you so much. Hearing your voice during a phone call was not enough anymore, and now that he was coming back he couldn’t wait to hug you forever.

“I just wish this fucking car would go faster.” He thought impatiently. However, when he recognized the block on which you two lived, he also noticed something strange. A dozen police cars were all parked in the driveway and on the street. He felt anxiety rise up in his chest as he started wondering for what possible reason the police could be there for.

Fire? A burglar? Fight between the neighbours? The car stopped and Axl felt a sense of dread as he realized that the police were right in front of his house. His heart started beating so fast he felt like something horrible must have happened, because why the fuck were there so many cops where you and him lived? He exited from the vehicle and told his driver to go away. While he started walking towards the building, every step felt like a punch in his guts and his mind was losing its sanity little by little.

He tried to reassure himself, he kept repeating that you will show up eventually, probably scared and hopefully not hurt. Then he will hug you and tell you that everything is going to be alright and that he's here now. But before he could reach the front door, a cop crossed his way. “I’m sorry sir, you cannot go in. This is a crime scene.” Crime scene? Axl’s face fell at those words, feeling his heart clench. “I’m Axl Rose. I live here with my fiancé Y/N Y/L/N. What happened?” He asked, trying to sound firm and authoritarian but failing. “Sir, I’m sorry I have to tell you this but Y/N Y/L/N was found dead here in the early afternoon. It has been confirmed to be a murder case." Everything stopped for the singer. All his surroundings were fading out. He felt like he was in a bubble, unable to get back to the real world but drifting away in a world of pain.

You can’t be dead, his amazing fiancé can’t be gone like that, who would dare to hurt such a perfect person? He felt the tears running down before he could stop them, and without any warning he found himself falling on his knees. He wanted to scream so bad. Get angry and punch something, but he felt completely drained. It has to be a nightmare, he often got those so all of this isn’t real and he will wake up in sweat only to find you sleeping peacefully next to him. His thoughts were erratic, maybe this was his punishment. Maybe this was the price he had to pay for his sins.

“You’ll poison everyone who you claim to love, because you’re so impure!” His stepfather used to say to him, and it couldn’t have felt more true than now. “Sir? Sir?” Someone was calling him, but his mind felt so far away. Five months before Axl was nervously biting his nails, checking his pocket now and then to see if the ring was still there. He asked you to come at midnight. To be sure he was on time and to relax and prepare a bit, he decided to come up on the roof five minutes earlier.

The view was beautiful from up here and the stars were particularly shiny that night. The only thing off were the noises coming from the party downstairs. Maybe choosing to do this the same day as their goodbye party before going on tour was not a great idea.

But Axl didn’t care, because he knew that he wanted to ask you to marry him right before going on tour, so he could have that nice memory cheering him up during the stressful period of being on the road. His thought were interrupted by someone opening the rooftop’s door. And there you were, so beautiful and stunning. The redhead felt so lucky to be called your boyfriend. He was 100% sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “Did you want to talk to me?” You asked a bit scared. What if he wanted to break up with you? Axl smiled sweetly and held your hands, looking into your eyes. “Y/N, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was a broken man but you managed to show me what being loved feels like, you dealt with all my bad sides and stuck with me through my darkest times. But you were also there for me at my happiest moments, ready to hug me or kiss me. Ready to make me feel like the luckiest man alive. I can’t imagine a life without you and I don’t want to so…” and he kneeled on the ground.

“Y/N Y/L/N would you like to marry me?” You couldn’t help but cry as you saw him holding a beautiful ring, with tears in his eyes too. You wanted to answer back so badly, but you were too emotional so you simply nodded and when you gained your voice back you answered. “Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes! I want to marry you Axl Rose. You have no idea how much. You better finish this tour early so I can call you my husband!”

He looked at you and he gently kissed you. Both of you feeling like you were flying, too happy to be bothered by anything. You were about to call him your husband and there was nothing better than that. “Oh God, I love you so much Y/N!” He said picking you up and spinning you around. Present “Sir, sir, can you hear me?” Axl snapped back to reality, only to be crushed by the pain again. Everything was real, it was not a nightmare. He was still outside of your house and you were still dead. Gone forever as you took his heart away with you. “Sir, we need you to come with us to the station for some questions.” The policeman said, looking him in the eye. “I was touring for five months, I have an alibi.” Axl said, angry and disgusted that they could ever think he would hurt you in any way. “We know, we just need to know more about who would have killed your fiancé. Don’t worry, you can call your lawyer when you want, Mr. Rose.” The singer was too tired to argue, so he decided to follow him.

As soon as he entered the station, he felt all the eyes on him, but again it seemed like nothing but the pain mattered anymore. They held him for an hour, asking him general questions such as who could want you dead, if you had any violent ex-boyfriends or anything else who could have helped them.

He answered back without any emotion, because it was still so hard to believe that you were gone forever. They promised him to find the killer and they asked him to not leave the city. Axl almost laughed because he felt like he could barely move without you, let alone traveling outside the country.

When he got outside, he sat on the sidewalk and grabbed his phone. His hands were shaking and he felt more and more tears coming but he needed to be strong. He can cry later.

Biting his lips, he waited, until after three rings the person answered. “Uhm… hello?” Duff’s voice said, and the singer felt so guilty to have woken him up. The bassist was probably still hungover but Axl knew that without hearing or seeing his friends he wouldn’t make it. You’re so weak Bill, you’re a pathetic excuse of a man! And now more than ever, those words felt right.

“D-Duff… Y/N… is gone, murdered. I-” Axl wanted to continue but he started to hyperventilate. “Fuck Axl, where are you? What’s going on? I’m going to pick you up, just tell where you are, okay?” The blonde said, sounding as distressed as Axl was.

“O-Outside the police station.” He replied, trying to not sob.

“Five minutes and I’m there, just stay calm Ax and don’t move!” Duff said firmly, but a hint of panic could be heard in his voice.

Axl sat still, biting his nails and trying as much as he could to distract himself but his mind kept shouting intrusive thought at him. Eventually he had lost track of time, because now Duff was standing in front of him, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Let’s get in the car Ax. All the boys are waiting at Izzy’s house.” He gently said, pushing the redhead inside his vehicle.

He sat down and looked out of the window, hoping that what was outside would distract him and burst that bubble of pain he felt inside his heart. However, he knew that it was useless.

Three years ago

Axl was so nervous and he didn’t even know why. It wasn't like it was the first time he was going on a date. But with you it felt different, almost special. He was constantly checking himself in the mirror, trying to look badass but also sweet and mentally stable, he didn’t want to fuck things up with you. He felt like you were the one.

A knock on the door almost made him jump, but then he opened it and found you waiting for him. The singer was struck by your beauty and he might have zoned out for a few seconds.

Then he smiled and grabbed your hand, leading you to your destination.

Everything went good, you two clicked and he found himself so comfortable talking to you about almost anything. However, something was eating him alive and you noticed it.

“Hey Axl, what’s wrong?” You asked gently.

“I like you and a lot.. but I’m scared that I will screw things up or scare you because I’m me..” He said, biting his lips.

“I like you Axl. I even like the not so good parts and I know the real you. I’ll be there for you, step by step, okay? Don’t be scared to give us a chance!” He cupped your face and gently kissed you, feeling totally different from every other kiss. And it was at that moment that he knew you were meant to be.

Present

Axl snapped back to reality right before Duff parked in Izzy’s driveway. He felt so exhausted but at the same time he didn’t feel like he could sleep. Only his brain was tired. Numbed by the pain and the sadness.

He saw Slash and Steven waiting for him in the doorway, a sympathetic expression on both of their faces.

The curly haired man then grabbed his suitcase and headed towards the guest room, as footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Izzy.

The singer felt like he was about to break down again, he couldn’t hold it anymore but fuck to start crying right in front of his band was different from what he did earlier and he didn’t want to be seen like this. Izzy stared at him, with the same look that Jeff would use every time Billy showed up with bruises at his door.

It meant “You can let it out, it’s okay, nothing bad will happen” and he knew you would have said the same, but you were gone forever and the only person that was close enough to break down his walls was his best friend.

The tears just fell, he didn’t make any sound but he felt them slowly rolling down his cheeks and before he could realize it he was silently sobbing in Izzy’s arms.

At that moment reality hit more than ever and your loss was so heavy on his heart. It was like a wave of pain crushed his heart every minute with increasing violence.

At some point the others joined them, Slash and Steven patting his back while Duff and Izzy made him sit on the couch. He felt too numb and exhausted to care about being seen like that, you were the only thing occupying his mind. The good memories mixing with terrible images of you laying motionless. And he was angry because all of this was not fair. He loved you so much and you did nothing wrong.

“Y/N is gone forever…” He said through the sobs and slowly he felt tiredness taking over.

So he simply closed his eyes, imagining your warm smile.

---

They say time fixes all wounds, but that’s bullshit.

Axl stayed at Izzy’s house, with the boys coming over every day to help. He barely ate or slept. He was mostly just staring at the ceiling or the TV.

Occasionally he tried to write a song for you, but the pain and all the emotions didn’t help him as well as he thought. He felt bad for his band, who basically had to be his babysitters. It hurt to wake up every morning and not find you by his side.

All his energy was mostly focused on the telephone in his room, hoping that his lawyer or police would give him news on your murder. But it never rang.

The boys would try to distract him, make him eat, sleep or do anything else really. But they didn’t understand that was the only thing that didn’t make Axl feel like he had lost all control.

Two weeks after your murder the phone rang. He was eating a sandwich just so Duff wouldn’t die from stress because the poor man was like a worried mother most of the time.

When he heard it he started running towards the bedroom and quickly picked it up and five minutes later everything was over.

“What did they tell you?” Slash asked impatiently. Axl was so wrapped up in his pain that he forgot the band were your friends too. “They said it was a robbery. Someone thought that Y/N would be with me on tour so they wanted to steal all my things, but they found Y/N, got scared and shot them. They could have called 911 and maybe Y/N would still be here.” Axl said with a flat tone, a single tear streaming down his cheek, as all the boys hugged him sadly.

---

He started to write a song for you.

Nothing much had changed, he still broke down while hidden in the bathroom. He slept two hours a night and ate one meal a day, but writing was his last hope. He fooled himself into believing that if he could say his last goodbye to you, things would be better.

---

A week later your funeral took place at a local church. Axl offered to pay for it, and your parents thanked him for everything he had done for you. Everything was so sad and Axl was glad neither of them or him broke down and cried when he told them.

It was hard for all the boys. Sure Axl was your fiancé but you were close to the rest of the band as well so all of them were pretty down. Especially when they had to see your casket and your parents breaking down while all your relatives were sorry for their loss.

Axl thought that this day was even worse than the one on which you died, mainly because now everything would be over forever. Now he had to see you laying dead and forever gone. He was the last to go to your parents, both of them tried their best to give him a sympathetic smile and they were very moved when he mentioned the song he wrote for you.

He also prepared a speech for you, his proper last goodbye. The one that only you, him and the people close to you will hear. Trying not to cry was getting harder and harder as he was listening to all your friends and family talking about how amazing you were and before he knew it he felt Duff tugging his sleeve and then whisper: “It's your turn.”

Slowly, he walked towards the wooden pedestal with the microphone. Then he took a big breath and started speaking.

“Y/N was out of this world, the best person anyone could possibly ever ask for. Sure there was attitude and sassiness in my fiancé but also love, understanding, talent, happiness and kindness. My darling found a way to love someone as broken and damaged as me, by bringing me together piece by piece, showing me what love was and that I deserve it.” He stopped for a moment, because he felt the tears coming up again.

“Y/N didn’t deserve to die the way they did, and I’m sorry to not have kept my promise to protect my fiancé. I’ll miss Y/N so much, I can’t even imagine how my life will be, but at the same time I won’t forget and I’ll love you forever my angel. Nothing lasts forever but you will be in my heart, babe.” He finished and got back to his seat, feeling the tears silently running down.

“Hey man, why don’t you come outside with Steven and I? He needs to find a bathroom and some fresh air will help you. We will be back soon, promise.” Slash proposed and the singer decided to follow him, feeling the need to be outside.

They sat on the church’s stairs as Steven ran towards the bar across the street. Saul lit up a cigarette and then offered one to Axl who gladly accept it. He tried his best to distract himself but his mind was racing at high speed, almost hurting him.

“Hey Ax, it was not your fault, you didn’t know. And Y/N loved you so much. It was almost sickening how much you two talked about the other when they were not around!” Slash said a bit awkwardly but the redhead appreciated it very much.

Before he could reply, Steven joined them and out of nowhere he hugged his singer. Axl was far too sad to be angry at that, so he simply let the younger man hold him for a couple of seconds, then all three got back into the church as the priest was finishing the ceremony. It had started to rain.

As everyone was getting outside, Axl gave one last sad goodbye to your parents before getting in the car with the band. The boys decided on where to stop to eat, not without arguing on what was the best place to go. Eventually, Izzy decided for everybody, ‘cause you don’t mess with Stradlin. The redheaded singer put his head against the window as he closed his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, his mind drifted to a memory with you.

“You better finish this tour quickly, rockstar. I can’t wait to call you my husband!”

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be back soon and I’ll put a real ring on your finger.”

“ I already have a real ring Axie, don’t spend too much on me! I just hate having you away from me.”

“Well, I’ll come back and you will find me at your door, with a big bouquet in my hands. Just don’t go anywhere babe.”

“And where should I go? I’ll wait for you until you’re back and I’ll kiss that pretty mouth of yours as soon as you get here!”

Axl smiled sadly and couldn’t help but think that you didn’t keep your promise. He looked in the distance wondering what will happen next, but especially how he will live a life without you.

1 year later

“This song is dedicated to a very important person, who unfortunately isn't here anymore. Life is unfair and it takes the best people away. This is my goodbye to Y/N.“ Axl said, managing to not cry, as he started to softly play the piano.

He looked up and he felt the same warmth he used to feel when he was with you. He smiled sadly, then he started singing.

After a year, you were still in his heart, even if it hurt.

[sentient-stove]

Okay, I know nobody asked, but since that 200k word fanfic for Rise of the Guardians was the first ever fanfic I wrote, I remember the plot, so I’m going to tell you about it.

*buckles you into a chair*

And you’re gonna listen.  *SPOILER WARNINGS, DUH*

Oh, let me tell you her powers first:

Shadow travel like Pitch, she can control the nightmares, but she has to be in constant contact with them, she can create weapons out of pure and corrupted sand, Sandman’s sleep dust doesn’t work on her and she can turn invisible to the Guardians as well.  other than that, she’s pretty low power wise compared to the others.  Like, she has a lot, but they’re all pretty draining.

...

So, the plot started in a flashback scene in Egypt, around the time that the pyramids were being built.

Our main character, I don’t remember her name, sits up and we see that she’s almost completely covered in sand.  She doesn’t know how she got there, her name or who she is as a person.  So she stumbles to her feet, dusts herself off and starts walking.  People are ignoring her (duh)  and when she finally makes it to a small watering trough, she looks into the water to see that her cornrows are pure white, one of her eyes is gold and the other is a black.  Other than that, she looks like how a 18 or so Egyptian girl would look at the time.  

anyway, she looks up to see the moon and someone walks through while she’s distracted.  The walking through her startles her, she stumbles back, falls through a shadow and is gone.

Then there’s like a montage of all the other guardians becoming guardians, and she’s always either nearby or a slight trigger to it- like with Jack Frost’s, she’s the reason why the ice started cracking, and that’s why he fell in, because there were three people on the ice that day, even though it only looked like two.

Final jump to the events in Rise of the Guardians.  She’s changed outfits by now and is wearing black jeans, a black bomber jacket and lots of gold jewelry.  She’s chasing one of the nightmare’s in the same town that Jack is in (She likes keeping tabs on him and Sandman since those two move around the most and it’s more interesting than constantly fucking with the Yeti).  Anyway, over the course of this time, it’s clear that she doesn’t use her shadow traveling and so the nightmare gets away.  

So she’s upset about the nightmare getting away, but before she can really do anything, she hears a yell, and looks to see that in the alley below her, the Easter Bunny is wig snatching Jack Frost (like how in the movie)  and right before the snow globe portal closes, she slips through invisibly.  She gets out of the way before anyone can see where she is and ends up shadow hopping to sit on the globe and watch shit go down.

Anyway, that scene happens, she accidentally outs herself as being there, it’s implied that she has bad blood with the Sandman, Jack Frost has never met her, Tooth Fairy just knows of her as like a cryptid and she’s halfway friends with Easter Bunny.

Anyway, Santa takes Jack to go have the talk (if you know, you know) and the other three guardians are like: “bitch, you need to go.”   And she’s like: ‘fuck no, im staying, this is the most interesting shit’s been in years.’

they try to subdue her, can’t lmao and so they get stuck with her as like a weird protector of the guardians.

So while this is going down, the Tooth Palace attack happens and she tags along, helping take out a few nightmares and she actually rides one until the Easter Bunny takes it out on accident and she ends up landing on a different level of the palace than the main guardians + Jack.

She hears the whole convo from down there and she also starts to see the crumbling from her vantage point and it looks like the foundation itself of the Tooth Palace is corroding.

That all happens, including the scene where Jack is like: “you shitheads had my memories the whole time?”   

She’s the first one to pipe up and be like:  ‘It’s chill, I don’t have memories either, and look at me, 4000 years strong and I’m still not a Guardian.”

Whoop, there it is.

Teeth collecting montage, not much changes, except for the room scene before Sandman’s death, where it’s her, sandman and jack that are still awake.  She stays behind to wake everyone up, not realizing that the snowglobe slipped out of Santa’s pocket and rolled into the hallway...

She wakes them up, they all go out in time to do that cool fight scene and she watches sandman’s death from a closer point because she was shadow traveling through the nightmares, trying to get there in time.  She doesn’t and she almost gets KO’d by Jack Frost when he kills all the nightmares.

Funeral, once again, not much changes, although she has to take up a temporary role as the Sandman due to her powers being a weird cross of Sandman’s and Pitch’s.

The next part is as the Warren (Easter Bunny’s headquarters)  and she volunteers to go scout the tunnels ahead while everyone else is getting the eggs ready.   She gets mixed up and accidentally runs through a wall, landing in Pitch’s lair.  

She doesn’t see the lil tooth fairies, because of her location, but Pitch taunts her with her fears and shows her a canopic jar made of corrupted sand.  He then explains that she was supposed to be the Sandman, and she was, for many years before she fought him in the desert, got half corrupted and Pitch stole her memories and name as a trophy.  That rightfully pisses her off and she almost KO’s him right then and there if it weren’t for Jack Frost showing up and Pitch going off to torment him while she runs around trying to get out.

She literally runs into Jack Frost, grabs him and shadow travels them out.  It weakens her, and she tells him to go and warn the other’s while she recoups. In reality, she kinda just passes out in the tunnel and by the time she wakes up, Jack Frost is gone, the Big Three thought she got offed like Sandman and so it’s an awkward funeral walk in moment.

She yells at them for being dumbasses, watches Easter Bunny shrink and is like: “Oh fuck, we need to figure something out because I now have personal beef with Pitch and you guys are on the verge of collapse.”

Pitch comes for his big victory, everyone realizes that Jamie won’t give up like the absolute piece of shit he is and so while the Big Three go to go save him, she sticks back and has a brief one on one fight with Pitch to stall, she almost wins, but gets hit by some blowback of her own powers and so Pitch runs and she has to follow, making her show up to the battle a bit after Jamie turns the first nightmare into pure sand.

There’s the fight scene, all the kids can see the Guardians, but not her because there’s no name to believe in, ergo she does not exist.  

There’s this one moment in the film where Pitch rises up behind Jack Frost in the final battle, fully about to take him out with the scythe, but Sandman comes in time and saves him.

Here, our main character pushes Jack out of the way and takes the blow instead.  The second the scythe touches her, she’s gone, destroyed.  The Big Three and Jack Frost are upset and Pitch shows off the canopic jar to them, bragging and THAT’s when Sandman comes back.  Pitch loses control of the jar, Jack catches it and Santa takes it from him to keep it safe.

Once all of that is done and Jack Frost is a Guardian, etc, it goes to the last scene, where they’re having an actual funeral for her with the jar.  The funeral ends, Santa places the jar on a shelf and everyone walks away.  Except for Jack Frost and the Sandman.

Jack turns to Sandman is like: “She was cool.”

Sandman makes like the opening a jar motion and Jack Frost is kinda confused, but he realizes that since the jar is made of corrupted sand, Sandman can’t open it, but for some reason, he wants him to.

So he takes the jar and pops it open.  Inside there’s a single slip of papyrus.  Jack Frost grabs it, looks at the words on it, which have somehow shifted from their original hieroglyphs to English.

He reads the word outloud.

and from behind him and Sandman, a familiar voice says: “Took you long enough.”

~THE END~

I hope you enjoyed lmao, I wrote the original fic when I was a freshman in high school and while all my friends were dating, I was writing fanfic about a character that gave no fucks and was just there for the ride.  She didn’t even have a love interest, just a close platonic relationship with everyone by the end.

and yes the fic was stolen.  I even remember the girl’s name: Clair Deg** (im not trying to doxx her..)

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)

Chapter 4 is in!  

Thanks to James @friedchickenangelwings and everybody reading so far (tag list I love each and every one of you).

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Cas tries to resign himself to the fact that this is his “life” now. He’s wandering through a vast landscape of every demon and angel ever killed, trying to avoid a cosmic force which hates him, with a smarmy demon.

“Rumor has it there’s a weak spot between the realms.” Crowley walks backwards so he can look at Cas, which means Cas has to watch his back and make sure he isn’t walking into any daggers. It’s annoying. “Unfortunately, that means all the picks of the litter,” he gestures to the havoc around them. “Are going to be there, crowding to be the first ones out when the door breaks.”

Cas sighs. “Great. And you know how to get there?” 

Crowley shrugs. “I have a general idea.” That doesn’t inspire much confidence in Cas. “Relax, Flyboy, I’ve got a handle on this sort of thing. What we need to figure out is how we’ll get past all the eager beavers when we make it there.” 

“Is killing and maiming not enough of a plan for you?” 

Crowley grins. “Oh, Castiel, stop it, you make a demon blush when you say things like that.” Cas shakes his head. 

“Well, I’d love a better plan, but this place doesn’t seem full of… possibility.” He kicks aimlessly at a patch of Not-Ground and inexplicably stubs his toe. Crowley gives him a withering look, but doesn’t disagree. They walk in silence for a few more moments.

“So…” Crowley’s tone automatically sets off Cas’s waried alarms. He sounds like he’s trying to be casual. Cas looks over and - sure enough- Crowley is pointedly looking at his nails. “Did they cry over me long?” 

Cas sends him a flat look. They in Crowley’s book automatically means The Winchesters, and The Winchesters automatically means Dean. Crowley was asking: Did Dean cry over me long?

Did Dean cry over me? He wonders.

Cas clears his throat and realizes… “I don’t know.” 

Crowley frowns at him. “What do you mean you don’t know? Too teared up yourself after your old pal Crowley to see if Moose and Squirrel were in pieces? Or were you just too focused on the new bébé?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “First of all, we’re not pals.” Dean and he are pals. Crowley and he are not pals. “Second of all, I was dead.” 

Crowley stops dead. “You mean to tell me you died right after my big heroic scene? You mean to tell me-”

“Mary was dragged into the Apocalypse World with Lucifer, who stabbed me in the back and killed me.” 

Crowley looks sincerely sullen at that. “That’s just-” He walks ahead. 

Cas blinks. Crowley is not one to drop a matter, especially not one he’s so obviously pissy about. This can’t mean anything good. “What is it?” 

The man spun around almost immediately. “I died, you bloody idiot! And you had to go and die after me? Just to rub it in my face?” 

“Yes, I got stabbed by my older brother just to overshadow your ‘heroic sacrifice.’” This son of a bitch is so dramatic.

Crowley glared at him. “He didn’t even notice me dying.”

Oh. So he’s dropping the pretences then. Cas is trying to be patient, but frankly the logic is ridiculous. “I’m sure he noticed you dying.” 

“Not after you,” Crowley shoves his hands in Cas’s direction, then sticks them in his pockets and keeps walking, forcing Cas to trail behind him like a weary parent of a petulant teenager.

Fuck, he actually thinks I care about you? Dean Winchester eases out of the darkness with his eyebrows raised. He’s wearing a smile that Cas has only ever seen on Dean as a demon, and it makes his blood crawl. Poor son of a bitch. Delusional. Almost as bad as you, buddy. Empty!Dean smirks and eyes Cas with pity. Cas has never heard “buddy” sound so condescending. Thinking I could ever feel the same.

Cas squeezes his eyes shut and counts to three. He never thought that Dean could feel the same. “Crowley.” He gains speed, trying to leave the Empty!Dean behind. “Crowley.” 

“I give my life for those insufferable lumberjacks and-”

“I’m sure they-”

We didn’t. Didn’t even have a funeral for you insufferable pricks. We just said good riddance and let your body rot. Empty!Dean’s smile is vicious, and Cas can’t get it out of his head. Try as he might, Cas can’t get Dean to disappear from his mind’s eye. As much as Empty!Dean’s words are hurting him, just seeing his face again is… reassuring.

“You really don’t know, though, do you?” His voice is prickly, its shields back up despite the truth he was spouting. “You never saw him after the times you died. I-”

Crowley runs into something. Someone, actually. 

They must’ve both been too distracted, in their conversation and their thoughts, to notice. The straggler looks behind himself to see Crowley, and in seconds they’re surrounded by a whole group of them. Angels. Cas sees the leader and swallows hard. He nods at them on the minute chance they don’t recognize him or hate him. “Hello, Hester.”

The angel smiles in the least emotive way possible. “Hello, Castiel. Still keeping company with the damned, I see.” 

The angels around Cas grab a hold of his arms before he can make any move. They do the same thing to Crowley ahead of him. Cas grits his teeth, momentarily considering fighting before realizing it’s hopeless. He takes the defiance route and looks back up at his old foe. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, Hester? We’re all damned.” 

The angels aren’t pleased with that reply, if their rough handling is any indication. They haul Crowley and Cas across the Emptiness with a speed that’s exhausting, but at least they don’t have to worry about the fighting. Even in the midst of battles, angels, demons, and creatures of all sorts make room for the group of well-armed and organized angels. Crowley frowns over at him through the mess. “Thanks for the defense, feathers, but how in holy hell are we gonna get out of this one?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The angels shush them then. Cas takes the time to try to formulate a plan of action, but it feels like his thoughts are clouded and malformed. The effort of fighting off the visions of the Empty is exhausting, and he just doesn’t have anything left except the dull panic of knowing that wherever he is going is worse. 

Crowley isn’t doing much better. He stops struggling against being manhandled early, opting to bat his eyelashes at the man closest to him. “See something you like, angel?” He looks vaguely satisfied by the look of discomfort on the man’s face.

“Hester, where are you taking us?” The insistent fear still holding to Cas’s heart makes him ask even though he’s sure the answer will mean very little.

Hester glances behind herself carelessly. “Oh, first we are going to our stop-post. But after, Castiel, after that we are taking you straight to the Empty itself.” 

Cas closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself. “Why?”

“Because it hates you.” She says it like she expects the words to sting, and when Cas seems unaffected, she frowns. “You are the reason all of this is happening. You are the reason the realms are in chaos, Castiel.” 

That’s right, Castiel. It’s your fault we’re all suffering now. Hell, even after you murdered us, you continue to twist the knife. An Empty!Balthasar walks alongside the group, eyes locked on Cas’s and voice solely for his ears. 

“You used to be so devout, Castiel. It saddens me, to see you fall yet further.” 

“Yes, well, things happen.” Cas can’t believe he’s even attempting to justify himself. 

“Things. Don’t be so coy; we know of whom you speak.” 

Crowley snorts and Cas looks over at him. Of all the things he could describe their current situation as, amusing would not be one of them. “Oh, can it with the piety, King James. Who doesn’t get up to a little interspecies hanky panky every now and again?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the angel he’s closest to, and he moves away so quickly he almost lets go of Crowley altogether. 

Cas smiles in spite of himself. 

Hester is not entertained. “My point is made for me. Don’t you ever feel ashamed of yourself, Castiel? You used to be a leader of the garrison, an example to be looked to.”

Cas looks at her dully. “I used to be a dick.” he says truthfully. If he’s honest, thinking of himself before he rebelled is much more painful than thinking of himself after. “I am not ashamed of who I am. I’ve done much wrong, yes, but loving Dean Winchester is not one of those wrongs.” He clears his throat, trying to dispel some of the thickness that’s popped up with his words. He won’t hide that anymore. He’d given that up the second he decided to say it out loud. 

Hester looks taken aback by his bluntness. Of course, the last time she saw him… well, he was much less at peace with himself. “You really are tarnished beyond repair. Fine, you will meet your end without repentance.” 

Cas shrugs. “Not like my repentance would make much of a difference.” he grumbles. He’s pretty sure there would be no shaking hands and getting over it even if he was groveling at the Empty’s metaphysical feet. Not after all this. And it’s not like he could fix the chaos even if he wanted to. 

Crowley knocks into his side and jerks his head ahead of them, pointing in the direction of the first structure they’ve seen in the Empty. It’s a low, sturdy building made of the ether solidified into depressing dark door and windowless lodging, with stairs out front leading to a below ground level entrance. This is where they go, into the bunker. It makes Cas off-handedly ill to think of the bunker he wants to be at, and he’s so wrapped up in that thought he doesn’t pay much heed to the expansive underground structure Hester leads them through. They eventually get to holding cells, and Cas and Crowley are thrown into one together. 

“You’ve done this to yourself, Castiel.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have the energy to disagree with her. She’s not wrong. He follows Crowley’s lead instead, sticking a middle finger up in reply. She huffs and leaves them alone, in the dim lighting with only a dank stench and a dripping noise for company. Well, that’s not entirely true. 

“Gee, Clarence, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” 

Cas’s heart leaps out of his chest. “Meg?” 

Crowley groans next to him, which they both ignore. “Hiya, boys.” Meg waves from behind matching bars across the room from them. “Fancy seeing you here.”

tag list: (ask to be added or removed)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.

[casshasfangs]

don’t ask me where i’ve been

Everyone else on tour seemed to enjoy their days off. They were few and far in-between, but the others still counted down, drew circles on calendars and made plans with their roommates. Not Cass, though. He spent the days by himself, mostly in bed or fiddling with his guitar. The further North they travelled, the more their fans sounded like his Dad, the harder it was for Cass to fight through the depression that always seemed to hang off him like a bad smell. Today, missing him especially, he was waiting for a response to a letter he’d written to Pomonia.

Something had changed in him since Henry died. Maybe it had been longer- Cass wasn't sure. It could have started the night of their first gig. Perhaps it was that night in the Hospital Wing, watching Rhett rock Shosh under the shower, as blood pooled on the floor beneath them. Maybe he had been changing from the very moment he laid in that bed on Hogsmeade, frozen with fear and guilt and anxiety, Pomonia dozing next to him. And he'd met Sonder some time in between- or had it been before? The timeline of when the dazzling boy came spinning into his life was mingled with the traumas he'd endured in the meantime. 

 All Cass knew, was that he couldn't talk to Sonder about Henry. He hadn't known him. Robin had a skewed view of the vampire, and while Shosh had a closer idea than most, she hadn't known him for long. Tami knew Henry. But any positive memories of his ex-best friend were tainted by her betrayal, which almost ran deeper than Pomonia's. 

 Pomonia. 

 He missed her.

 It gnawed at him almost nightly, because he didn't just miss her familiarity. He missed the way she knew him, the comfort and structure she'd provided him, the way he knew exactly what was expected of him. 

He missed her arms, her hands, her lips, her whispered whiskey breath and her scent, her blood, her muted voice and the creases in the corners of her eyes. And nights like this, when he received letters back from owls, magically marked as undeliverable, he wished he could see her. He wished he could curl up in her lap, like he did when he was small. He wished he could stand in front of her and scream at her till his throat was hoarse and bloody. He wished he could cry with her about Henry, and then she would hold him and rock him and she'd whisper something that would make it better. Cass folded the letter and placed it in his pocket.

He heard Piper approaching behind him- she always stopped just short of him. Cass always wondered if she felt the same way he did, around veela descendants. Tami and Cass had always been intense friends, they often remarked that their abilities enhanced around each other, that Tami felt ill or tired when they spent too much time together. Piper was too polite to comment on it.

 He heard her shallow breaths and realised, ashamed, that she was probably affected by his angsting. "I'm just going out for a drink." He murmured lowly, turning to look at her. 

 The concern was written all over her face. It was a normal part of being on the road- both Cass and Shosh were working overtime, he couldn't feed from her as often as he needed, neither of them had the blood sugars to sustain it. He needed to supplement. But Piper wasn't concerned about that. 

 In a rare gesture, Piper took a deep breath, then reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. "I know. But you don't have to go out alone. I could come with you?" Cass just raised his brows, and the blonde sighed in response. She shrugged, letting her hand drop, "Just.. Remember you have people who care about here. It's about more than the band." 

 "Yeah," he did his best to pull himself together, the corner of his lips pulling up on one side. He tried. "I'll be back before rehearsal." Unable to handle the further emotional burden of affecting Piper a moment longer, Cass stepped back and apparated away.

He was genuinely surprised to not have splinched himself on arrival, given how all up in his head he’d been. It would’ve been embarrassing. Cass put his hands in his pockets and kept his head low as he strolled into Caro.

Cass ordered his usual drink, and headed for a booth. This early in the day, Caro was generally quiet. Most people were there to drink or socialise rather than dance the evening away. Cass just wanted the familiarity. If he couldn’t be with Pomonia, he at least wanted to be somewhere she’d been.

He was just about to pull a book from his coat pocket when Penny approached, all dolled up as usual. “Well, I’ll be- the rockstar himself, back at home. I thought you were on tour, young man!” He barely looked up at her, but saw the way her manicured fingers sprawled where her hands were resting sharply on her hips.

Cass sighed, looking up at her. “Do you always have to do this? The lecture thing?”

“I’m Southern, honey,” She invited herself into his booth, clasping her hands together atop the table, “Lecturing is how I show love.”

Cass caught himself before he rolled his eyes, but put his book on the table. He pulled his drink over, having a sip. “We’re still on tour. We just have a day off.” Cass allowed.

“And you couldn’t go to one of the other million social spots up there?” She raised a brow so high, it almost mixed into her bleach-blonde high ponytail.

“I’m trying to track down an old friend. She’s not responding to my letters, and it’s not like I can just up and leave during tour.” He said, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he sucked petulantly on his straw.

“You mean leave, like you are doing right now?” Penny hummed. “Who’s the friend? Maybe I can ask around.”

Although Penny and Bobby were new to the high-society vampire scene, Cass knew things had shifted since his Dad died. His Dad had never been top-dog, but he was well respected, and people were bickering about who played what role now. Bobby was well suited to step up in behalf of international covens, which meant Penny was automatically stepped up too, in the secretive social world of donors.

Cass hesitated- then remembered that news of his abuse hadn’t been made public. “Pomonia,” He said, hoping his voice didn’t falter. “She didn’t come to Dad’s funeral. And all my letters keep coming back. She’s probably mad I took on Shosh as a donor, I just wanted the chance to explain.” 

His voice trailed off in the face of Penny’s reaction- which was stern, at first, a deep rivet in her forehead. Then all of her edges softened, and she reached out to place a gentle hand over his own. “Honey...”

He knew that tone.

No. 

Not allowed.

Cass felt ill, and he pulled back, shaking his head. “Nope. Someone would’ve told me, she-”

“Cass, honey, she’s been gone for months. There was a trial... It was closed, no one knows what happened, but... She didn’t walk out of it.” Her voice was echoing in his head, and it seemed so quiet, so distant.

A booth in Caro in the middle of the day. A conversation with the Minister for Magic in the Headmistress’ office, late at night. No difference.

Cass placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing, and then placed the other on his stomach, trying to calm it as his head lolled, processing the information. He knew why there’d be a trial. He knew why she wouldn’t respond. His fault. His fault. His fault.

He blinked, then pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, leaning against the table until his eyes ached. And then he pressed harder- anything to distract from the rolling nausea of his stomach, from the weight of Penny’s hand on his shoulder, from the sound of her reassuring words.

Cass’s knees wobbled as he pushed away from her, stumbling out of the booth and the bar, gripping the walls outside to try and stay upright. There wasn’t enough oxygen- he couldn’t breathe- He was-

Cass was sick then and there, both hands clutching his stomach as if he could squeeze everything out. It splashed against the wall and Cass shook his head, looking about wildly. What did- Who- What did he do now? Where did he go?

Pomonia was dead. It was his fault. His fault. His fault.

Cass’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he barely had the mental energy to read the screen but he pulled it out anyway, blinking drearily at it and then putting it back in his pocket. He hadn’t even been gone for a fucking hour. 

With no better option, Cass sunk to the ground next to the wall, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of sick. He put his head between his knees, desperately trying to breathe. His hands came up to his head, gripping his hair and tugging.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. 

He rocked side to side, gently, trying to soothe himself, trying to process. And he stayed like that for a solid hour, curled up outside, alone, next to his own vomit. He stared at the floor, tugging his hair, until he saw a pair of feet stop short of him.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go home.” He frowned at her voice, shaking his head. He didn’t want to go with Robin. Bitch. “No isn’t an option. C’mon.” 

She leaned down to take his arm, pulling him up- and unfortunately, her vampiric strength won out against his noodly arms. Cass tried pushing her off weakly, but it didn’t work. She pulled a key from her handbag, which Cass knew to be a portkey, but before he could pull away from her and run, she gripped it, and they went spinning away, landing harshly inside their front sitting room with an almighty crash. 

Cass was more prepared for a portkey landing than Robin, and immediately tugged away from her, taking out his wand and pointing it at her. “Fuck you!” He shouted, shaking his head. “You had no right-”

“Put that thing away before you take my eye out.” Robin snapped, dusting herself off and folding her arms. “Now, I don’t know what’s up with you, but you sure as shit can’t go around like that. Go upstairs and take a bath. I’ll get dinner sorted.”

“But-”

“Did I fucking stutter?” 

Cass mashed his teeth together, glaring, and then tore up the stairs, sticking his middle finger up at her as he went.

[artemisfromkq]

— Pen and paper.

Summary: In which Sujin decides to write letters to the people she hurt in the past, the first being about Yoo Saerom.

Characters: Lee Sujin, Yoo Saerom, Kim Miyeon, some other Artemis members appear by the end.

Trigger warning: Alcohol usage, cheating, swearing, lying, crying, briefly mentions a funeral in a movie (?). This is pure angst, Sujin hurted that girl. There's also like two scenes one after another involving sex but there's no smut, it does have kind of a explicit language but it doesn't describe any act. Also, Sujin lowkey makes fun of Hyojin’s alcohol dependence.

Author's Notes: This is part one of the To All The People I've Hurt series! Italic texts are for what's Sujin writing in the letters.

APRIL, 2020.

Sujin hated what she became.

When she thinks about it, she wants to pass out, she hates to think she's like that, she was supposed to be a good person, she was supposed to have values, what went wrong?

When she looks back at her past relationships, she sees nothing but people she treated badly, she sees nothing but a trail of hurt and resent, isn't love supposed to be beautiful? She wonders if that's what her exes thought when they were with her. When she looks back, she doesn't remember anything good, it was a trail of manipulation and sadness left behind, she hated it, she hated it so much.

In this trail she could see Elle, Delilah and Saerom. Three people who didn't deserve anything they went through with her.

Saerom, she remembered it clearly, it hadn't been a lot of time since it happened, it was a relationship with potential, destroyed by Sujin in a few months, or even weeks. Saerom was pure, so pure Sujin thinks she hasn't experienced the dark side of life before she met her, she was beautiful, she didn't deserve anything she had to take. Sujin regretted it so much, why did she had to be like this?

Saerom loved to write, she remembers it well. She always left a cute letter for her when they went out for a date or just visited each other in the dorm or her house. She was the opposite to Sujin, she loved to write and read books, something which she never really gave value, another thing that she did wrong. Ironically, this memory was what gave her this idea.

Sujin never thought she'd be sitting in a table, with a pen in hands and a blank sheet of paper in front of her. Why was she doing this, anyway? Redemption? She wouldn't get it with a simple letter who is never getting sent, it was worth a try, anyways. It was what she could do, she knew the people she hurted obviously didn't want to see her, that's the only thing that came into her mind. God, she felt stupid putting herself on that spot, but it's supposed to make her feel better about herself, she hopes so.

And with that, she took a deep breath before starting to write.

We met each other in august.

AUGUST, 2019.

Summer was close to ending, the temperature already had changes to give room to autumn. Debut preparations were done and we were set to debut by the end of september. Lai was responsible to introduce us, remember? You were a sm trainee at the time, or still is, i wonder if you're still there, you always talked about your dream of debuting and being sucessful in our late nights, i hope i didn't ruin that for you.

In the start, i remember it was all fun and games, we used to go out with Lai but it didn't take much for us to start meeting alone. We were so different, yet our conversations used to last for hours. We'd drink coffee, walk around Seoul and, from time to time, you saw a book you liked and i'd always end up buying for you, you remembered me of someone from the past, and that was what brought our downfall.

SEPTEMBER, 2019.

When i debuted, you took me to a restaurant i remember well, it was expensive, i could tell, i wondered if you really wanted to do that for me, yet you still insisted to pay the bill. That night, we had our first kiss late night at a park, hidden behind the trees so no one could see us, i remember i felt happy, yes, happy. Not everything was a lie, Saerom, not from the start, even if you don't believe me nor want to look at my face ever again.

Not long after, we started dating.

Autumn had started for some time already, the sun didn't shine as brightly but the city was still beautiful, the trees darkened their color and the leaves started to fall, a perfect landscape was formed. Even if it didn't shine a lot, the sun was already setting, it was perfect, completely perfect.

Sujin unexpectedly invited Saerom to visit the Deoksugung Stonewall Path, a beautiful place that was near the Seoul Museum of art, a place that Saerom loved to visit.

It has been some time since i last visited the path, i don't really have the courage or strength to do it without remembering of the things i did to you.

They walked around for some time, they smiled, laughed, everyone would think they're just best friends having fun and, that time, they were, but it wouldn't last soon. When they got tired, they stopped by a café in front of the Jeongdong theatre, Saerom smiled as she continued to talk about her day, Sujin wasn't paying attention, lost in how angelic she looked while talking.

“I have something for you.” Interrupted, making the other surprised for some seconds.

I remember i acted like i wasn't nervous, after all, i had to keep the act you always loved to tease. But, yes, you were right, i was nervous that day.

“Oh, really? I'm curious, what book is it?” Saerom rested her chin on her hand, while waiting for Sujin to get something out of her bag.

“You know me well.”

“You're just uncreative! It's different.” Sujin let a small smile out and playfuly rolled her eyes as she took a book out of her bag, handing it to the other girl. “Pride and Prejudice? Quite cliché, however unexpected coming from you.”

“Just open the marked page.” It was hard to tell, but Sujin was blushing behind the sunglass she was using. Saerom mouthed a small "huh?" as she opened the book on the indicated page.

“There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.” The girl read the quote highlighted with pink marker, just below it, there was a post-it with something written: I love you.

I still remember your reaction, you were trying to hide your shock, but i could see it clearly, you were almost on the verge of crying from happiness, which i didn't understand why. Looking back to it, i realized it is because you really loved me, it hurts to see i didn't recognize that.

“First of all, never put a marker close to a book again, that's a crime.” Sujin couldn't hold her laugh, she knew how Saerom hated to make one single damage to her books, god, she took more care of them than herself. “Second, i love you too.”

“So, do you want?” Saerom looked confused with the question, making Sujin look away, denouncing a little of nervousness. “To be my... Girlfriend?” She whispered, scared of the answer she'd receive, only to hear Saerom laughing out loud in front of her.

“What do you think?”

NOVEMBER, 2019.

The sheets of Saerom's bed seem more monotonous than normal. Her apartment surely needs changes, but, still, it was probably better then SM’s dorm, it gave privacy both to herself and Sujin, she wonders if she’s focusing on her own life since she’s spending so much time with her. Sujin stares at the ceiling and lets a deep breath out, her girlfriend slept quietly by her side. Silence makes Sujin think, it makes her retrieve memories she didn't want. It hasn't been a lot of time since she started feeling like this, empty. Saerom started to feel more like a distraction than a loved one, she didn't know why. Honestly, Sujin hasn't met love again since a year ago, she hated to admit it, but old habits die hard, that was one of them.

Sujin liked girls like this, smart, determined, beautiful. There was only one difference between her current girlfriend and her past: Strength. Saerom was either easily manipulated or she trusted people too easily, ingenuous girl. In the end, Sujin is the type of person you can never trust, because she’ll always fuck you up in the end. She likes to hurt people, play with their minds, it became a part of her even if she denies it, she might be nice and playful in front of her friends, but she is rotten inside, she will always be.

She knew it, no matter how she tried to hide it down her throat, no matter how she tried to appreciate her girlfriend's beauty as one of a kind. In her eyes, Saerom would always be a carbon copy of the girl she loved a year ago, the same girl who she destroyed any ties she had with. For her, Saerom would always be a manifestation of the past, the one who makes reality the image of a future she had with someone else.

When Sujin fucks her, she sees someone else, when Sujin takes her out for a date, she sees someone else, when Sujin buys her a book, she sees someone else. It will always be someone else, a illusion of the past that insists to chase her every time she tried to move on from it.

Being distracted by her thoughts, she hears a fainted voice by her side. “I love you.”

Hesitantly, she replies. “I love you too.”

JANUARY, 2020.

Time passes, and a hotel room became more pleasing then her girlfriend’s home.

It was cheap, dirty and not in the most safe place of Seoul. The walls were made of wood and you could easily listen to the conversation in your neighbour’s room, the bed creaked at the smallest of movements and everything smelled like alcohol. She has money, she could afford a better place, but not getting caught was more important then comfort in Sujin’s mind, not that the person by her side cared at all.

No, the one beside her is not her loved one, not now, she stopped looking for pleasure in Saerom for some time, now. Miyeon was just another girl she met in a club, who she called when she needed. Miyeon was just exactly what her girlfriend missed, she was the missing part, she was power, she was strength. She wasn’t scared of challenging Sujin and she loved every single part of it. Of course, along with the adrenaline. Something inside of her begged her to stop and not do it, that she would leave one more person hurt, but something about lying always left Sujin intrigued, drunk with the ecstasy that came with doing something wrong, and Miyeon was perfect for it, she gave her exactly what she wanted. Sujin likes to do wrong things because they make her feel at her best state, they make her heart beat fast and make her think about the chaotic consequences of her actions, giving what she wants once again.

Suddenly, she can hear her phone vibrating on the bedside table, a message notification shows in the overly brightened phone.

[SAEROM @ 11:45 p.m] Are you fine? I hope your schedules aren’t taking a lot from you, i love you!

“Is that your girlfriend?” Sujin feels the girl’s head lay on her shoulder, she sighs, not knowing how to respond the text, she was going out of excuses. She, then, looks at the lover by her side.

“Yes. I gave her the same act, she’s worried if i’m getting overworked.”

“Yeah, right, only if it’s overworked by something else.” Miyeon lets a small chuckle out, Sujin stayed silent. Whatever it was, it still screamed to cut that relationship before everything started to fall down, but her desire spoke louder, it always did. “Don’t mind her, she’ll think you’re busy, drink some more wine.”

“Don’t you have something stronger?” She closes her eyes, letting one more deep breath out, she feels out of her body, everything felt like an hallucination, she wasn’t even drunk, yet. Lust. That was her biggest sin, it gets over her pride and takes over all of her body to act in favor of it, it was her biggest addiction. Before getting drunk of alcohol, she gets drunk of desire, it is dangerous for her, it is, Sujin can’t think properly anymore.

“Well,” She gets up from the bed, going in the direction of a plastic bag on top of a drawer. “We have whiskey, vodka... Your choice.”

“Vodka. It tastes horrible, it’ll work better.” Miyeon nodded, pouring the drink on a glass and giving it to Sujin. “Drink up.” She takes everything in one sip, frowning for some seconds due to the burning sensation on her throat, exactly like Sujin wanted. “What do you want with this, really?”

Her lips hesitate before answering, she was tired of that bulshit, she didn’t want to talk anymore, she needed more, desperately. “To forget.” She leaves the glass in the bedside table, taking her gaze to the other woman, she wouldn’t say anything else, Miyeon knew what to do, and that’s what made her better.

“If that’s the case,” She smiled, bad thoughts taking over her mind, just like Sujin’s. “I can do that way better.” Miyeon grabs her chin and leaves a small kiss in her mouth, seconds later, Sujin gets closer and ends the space between them. Suddenly, time didn’t matter anymore.

FEBRUARY, 2020.

“It’s really nice from the girls to let us have a good time in private, right?” Saerom smiles, grabbing a hand full of popcorn and stuffing everything in her mouth. Sujin tried to focus on what was going on in the television, what movie were they watching, anyway? She just went with her girlfriend’s lead and pretended to care.

It’s been some time they last done this. Have a good time. It even gave Sujin a strange impression on her body, when everything she’s been thinking about is the same dirty hotel room that smelled like alcohol and sex. Sujin didn’t even know why she invited Saerom to her dorm, she didn’t even love her anymore, why would she bother? Maybe to make her heart lighter, after all, nobody but her and Miyeon knew what she was doing in secret. Sujin is truly a trainwreck, a trainwreck disguised as a tempting, beautiful face, behind those mysterious, yet intriguing eyes that could pull you in a minute. People say sin is disguised as something beautiful, so it can take you in and never let you go, and that is exactly what she is.

“Yes, they are, they like that we’re together.” She sighs, grabbing a single popcorn and putting in her mouth, chewing it slowly as she gets more and more distracted in staring at the movie.

“Really? Is there a motive for that?”

“No, they just think you’re a cool person.” She grabs another popcorn, don’t act like you don’t know, she wanted to say that to Saerom. All the girls knew, and she knew Lai told her about it. The only motive why Sujin distanced herself more from their relationship every day, how can someone else make such an effect on other’s heart? She knew it’d come back at her one day or another, she’d taste from her own poison and blame others for it, after all, it’s never your fault, it’s always the others’.

“Well, that’s great, right? Look! Veronica is in Heather Chandler’s funeral.” Heathers. That was the movie they were watching. Saerom reaches her hand to grab more popcorn in the bowl they filled, realizing that the popcorn was close of completely vanishing. “Hey, it’s your house, go get me some more.” She smiled, putting the bowl completely in Sujin’s lap, who made a confused expression in the start.

“Fine, you don’t need to pause the movie, i’ll be right back!” She faked a excited tone, grabbing the bowl and going to the dorm’s kitchen, rolling her eyes as she refilled the bowl. She when she found those dates boring, anything with Saerom was suddenly boring and she couldn’t do anything about it. However, for some reason, cheating on her in secret sounded better in Sujin’s head then just straight up breaking up, she didn’t want to break up with Saerom in the fear of hurting her, but wasn’t that what she was doing all along? In the inside, Sujin wouldn’t take seeing Saerom with a broken expression, with a broken heart, but this wasn’t her problem anymore, she grew cold over her just like everyone else she ever dated. Sujin had a problem with love and relationships, it showed, but she decided to keep growing the count of people she hurts.

However, the view of a broken heart was closer than she imagined.

As Sujin was in the kitchen preparing more popcorn, her phone left in the couch kept ringing messages, making her curious girlfriend look if she had some new friends, always worried about her loved one’s happiness, only to find out something that was the opposite of what she wanted.

[MIYEON @ 8:50 P.M] Long time no see, right?

[MIYEON @ 8:51 P.M] I bet you miss me

[MIYEON @ 8:51 P.M] Why don’t you come over to our secret spot and i can show you something?

[MIYEON @ 8:51 P.M] Ditch your girlfriend, she won’t even suspect

[MIYEON @ 8:52 P.M] I bought some wine

As Sujin finished to put a new load of popcorn in the bowl, she walked back to the living room, surprising herself at the view of her girlfriend standing up in pure disappointment, with her phone in hands, displaying a conversation in the screen.

“Since when?”

Sujin stayed silent.

“Fucking answer, Sujin!”

“It’s not what-”

“Don’t play that bullshit on me.”

It was dark, but Saerom’s eyes shined, and it wasn’t because of happiness. Tears started falling down her eyes, then to her cheeks, then dropping on the floor. She never saw her like that. Of course, Saerom was always vulnerable, but she never cried in front of her.

I’ll never forget what i felt when i saw your expression. You were completely broken in pieces, you couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to, but everything that i talked about you, every single thing i did to you was registered, and you discovered everything once. You were so disappointed. When i look back at it, i always realize you actually loved me, truly, and i couldn’t see it, that’s completely cliché, like you used to say, but i didn’t understand, i didn’t know i could love again, i’m so sorry.

“I’m so sorry, Saerom, i-”

“No, you feel sorry because you got caught.” True. She feels sorry she got caught, because if she didn’t, she would play the act until Saerom felt tired and broke the relationship without knowing anything. All her doings being locked and never discovered, but reality is not like that, it’s painful and it’ll teach you lessons that you’ll be thankful someday, hopefully.

She stayed silent one more time. She was out of lies. There was nothing she could do anymore besides letting her go, maybe she was feeling regret, maybe not, her mind was only pure confusion and she could only think of losing something that one day she called hers. Only a possession, a toy, that was Sujin what considered Saerom at that point, someone good she can show off to her groupmates to show she moved on. However, Saerom was no doll, she had feelings and they were overflowing with sadness. It wasn’t something beautiful, it wasn’t something worth seeing anymore.

“You know... I thought you... you... Did you just lie to me this whole time?” She wiped her tears with her right arm, throwing Sujin’s phone on her couch. “Never look into my face again.” Saerom started grabbing her stuff, and something clicked into Sujin. She got closer, holding Saerom’s shoulders, keeping her from going away.

“Hold on... Please... I-i can explain.” Her voice failed, she was nervous, but showed no sadness. Saerom looked at the ground, she couldn’t take it, why? She loved Sujin so much? What did she do wrong?

“You’re just so fucking uncreative.” She looked in her eyes one more time, before going in direction of the exit, banging the door behind her, leaving Sujin staring at nothing, she wouldn’t go after her, she knew she didn’t deserve it, the fault was all hers, she knew it well. She always knew when she did something wrong. Sujin laid her head on the door, closing her eyes and landing two punches on it.

Silence. Since when silence started getting so overwhelming?

She used to love silence. The sensation of focusing on what you’re feeling, not what you’re hearing was something she used to always crave. But this silence wasn’t great, she didn’t want to feel what she was feeling, was she always like this? Was that the effect she caused on others? Sadness? The only thing she did all this time was break people’s hearts? She couldn’t understand because she always cared about herself, but when she looked at Saerom’s expression, memories came back to her, and they weren’t good.

“Do you mind telling me why Saerom sent me an audio message crying saying she never wants to see you again?” Kamlai got out of her dorm room, going straight to the living room as Sujin turned around, looking at her groupmate who didn’t look pleased. “God, i didn’t think you could pull that off again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. Saerom is a person, too! She’s my friend, Sujin, she’s not Delilah!”

Her eyes widened. Delilah. The name she’s been trying so hard to forget. She hated to hear that name so much, Kamlai knew it’d hurt, did she say it on purpose? Probably, it was her friend she messed with, after all, even if she loved Sujin, she was wrong. She did something she shouldn’t do.

“Don’t fucking mention that name.” Her voice got lower, it took silence to hear it. It was cold, she couldn’t show what was behind that name, but Kamlai knew very well, everyone knew.

“Why? Because you keep showing that even after loving someone like that you keep doing the same shit and break people’s hearts? That’s not cool, Sujin, when will you learn?”

“Why do you care?” Her voice now got louder, demanding answers from the older one.

“Because i care about you! You’re my friend! And i can’t take seeing you do those things! Because i know you’re a good person.”

“Maybe you don’t know me at all!”

“What is happening here?” Hyojin who was actually in the dorm, got out of her room to see the motive of the fight.

“It’s not your business, Hyojin, go drown yourself in another whiskey bottle and let me solve this alone.”

“What the fuck did you say?” She looked at the younger one in shock, Sujin realizing what she said just after she saw her leader’s expression, knowing that it was, still is a delicate matter to her.

She looked down, she couldn’t do anything that day anymore, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, she’d just end up hurting one more person to her count. Sujin let out a deep breath, running away from all that mess to her room.

“We’re talking later, Lee Sujin.” Hyojin screamed from the distance, in which she purely answered to banging the door behind her.

She just wanted to turn back in time.

APRIL, 2020.

The end arrived so fast that i couldn’t even process. I didn’t know what i was feeling, i still don’t know. I’m a slave to feelings, they take over me easily and make me do things i tend to regret just after. I can’t say i want you back, you’re better following your path without me, we’re both better without each other. But that doesn’t erase what i did, a plead of forgiveness or this letter won’t do it. But it’s the better way i can think of. Because i’m a coward. The biggest of them.

I hope you're out there, making sure that your dream turns into reality as fast as possible. You deserve it more than anyone else, you deserve to be happy. Maybe i’ll do, too, in a far future.

With you, i learned that holding onto the past won't make me feel better. I learned my lesson the hard way, but thank you. In the end, we had good memories, i hope you still remember those and don't see me as a monster.

Once again, i'm sorry, things just can’t be erased, however, they can get cured and become a good scar in the future. With sorrow;

Lee Sujin.