#yes this could have been avoided by mentioning the third thing they knew about angel: her nullification powers

[indigosabyss]

Stray Dogs in JJK Part 3 - Angel (of Death)

(Culling Game Arc Spoilers)

"So, we're helping you look for this Dazai guy. It's only fair that you help us find someone we're looking for, too." Megumi reasoned.

Akutagawa paused to slice a car in half, moving back to focus on the boy once it was certain that no one was there. He looked at Megumi carefully, before nodding, "Sounds sensible."

"Who're you looking for?" Atsushi asked.

Yuuji scratched the back of his head, "Well, we don't know anything about her real name or what she looks like. But they call her 'Angel', and she could bring the Culling Game to an end."

Surprisingly, that scant description made both of them straighten up slightly, exchanging hopeful glances.

"Actually," Atsushi smiled, "I think I know exactly who you're talking about."

---

[much ado later]

---

The group of five limped through the building, guided by a trail of illusionary snowflakes until they came out to a large room.

Judging by the rebar and debris sticking out from various spots in the floor, it hadn't always been this size.

There were four people in here, and their cursed energy was pretty strong. All Grade Semi-One, at the very least.

"Atsushi!" The first of the lurking figures to break the silence and pull their companion into a hug was a young teen with blond hair. He peered over at the others, "Are these guys friends of yours?"

"I... guess?" Atsushi replied, carefully pulling himself out of a rib-crushing hug, "Say, you know how Yosano-san used to go by Angel-?"

He was interrupted by a crack from the corner, and a sudden flare of cursed energy as a completely new person, previously undetected, stood up and stretched noisily.

"Thanks, Yosano-sensei." He groaned, opening a book as he glared at them, "I see we've got some potential allies to test."

A woman followed him into the light, eyes laser focused on Atsushi, "Talking about me? I think you forgot to mention my full moniker, Atsushi-kun."

"And that is...?" Itadori gulped.

She grinned at them, "The Angel of Death, naturally."

-----

Turned out that there was a small window of time between when a person's cursed energy dropped to zero and when they actually died.

Additionally, a death and the person behind it was logged when cursed energy dropped to zero, regardless of their state after that.

And on top of that, Yosano Akiko's ability/technique, 'Thou Shalt Not Die', could heal someone completely, but only if they were on the very brink of death.

These three facts coalesced into the ADA creating a loophole in the point system, to dodge around the requirement to kill at least one person every nineteen days, using Yosano's ability to wake up their target, while reaping the points at the same time.

"I guess you can use the same method to grind out hundreds of points, and make all the changes you want." Yosano considered, tapping her chin as she turned on the orange-haired guy, "Hey, Tanizaki, how do you feel about being the one getting murdered?"

"No!" He shrieked, vanishing in a blur of lights.

Kenji raised a hand, "I'll do it!"

"Kunikida-san, this has got to contradict your ideals." Atsushi muttered.

"Everyone here's insane." Megumi whispered harshly into Yuuji's ear, "Let's run when we can and find the real Angel."

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Something Stupid

Simon is lounging at the table while you boil some water. You stared at the kettle as you waited. The electric one you had wasn't working, you didn't have the funds yet to replace it and didn't dare mention it to Simon. The last time you mentioned that you needed something he added you to his credit card. That had been a whole thing.

Flicking through the mail you found a plain envelope with your name on it. Bit odd, but might as well check what bill collecter this was from. Sliding the guts from it you are surprised when one side of the folded paper dips with weight.

Concerned now, you flatten it against the counter. Glued to the middle right of the paper is a black credit card with your name on it. Outright worried is now your level of concern.

The letter is generic, here is your card, here is how to activate it, signed from the issuing company.

Thinking this must be some elaborate scam you grab your phone and search for the customer service line of the company. Waiting on the line and dodging the automated system you finally reach a person.

"Thank you for calling *Credit Card Company*. How can I help you today?" The professional voice on the other end chirps at you.

"Hi, so I have a bit of a weird situation that I am hoping you can help me with." You pause for a breath before continuing. "I recieved a card in the mail from your company but I don't have an account with you and I am a little worried that this might be a scamming attempt. A elborate one, but still."

"Oh, that does sound quite odd. Can you give me the number that appears on the card? We will see what I can find," the gentle concern layed over customer service helps.

"Yeah," you provide the number and wait.

A moment of silence is broken by the agent.

"I'm still here, I am just double-checking what I am seeing so I give you all the correct information."

"That's fine, I won't think the call dropped if there is silence." You had a phone job once. Heaven forbid you not be filling the silence on the line or a customer would lose their minds.

"Okay, so it appears that you have been added by a cardholder with us. A Simon Riley has added you and initiated the card being sent to the address we have on file. Is there anything else I can help with today?"

"I...no..I guess that is everything I needed. Thank you for your help," you stare at the counter as you try and process what you learned.

Staring at the spotted formica of the counter you lean forward on your hands. The shock had started to wear off, you couldn't decide if what you were feeling was nausea or rage. Why the hell did he add you to his credit card? You barely knew each other!

Yes, you lived together but the man was gone 80% of the time and you hardly spoke the other 20. The only thing you could think is that you happened to mention needing deodorant and that having to wait because of when payday occured.

Calling him seemed the best option. You knew he was still in the country. Said he would be home in two days and had to finish up some overnight training at a nearby base.

Your call reaches voicemail after two rings. Calling again it hits voicemail immediately.

"Fucker you cannot avoid talking to me about this," you growl at your phone. Your case bites into your fingers where you grip it tight. "Fine, let's try John."

John picks up on the third ring.

"Price."

His work voice makes you smile.

"Hi John, is Simon around by chance?" You ask sweetly.

He must turn the phone to his shoulder as he shouts for Simon by his call sign.

"Phone's for you."

A shift in the silence tells you Simon has put the phone to his ear.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You snap into the phone.

"'bout what?"

"The credit card?" You can't prevent yourself from slashing your hand through the air even though he can't see you.

"It's easier."

These short responses are making you madder.

"Simon Riley who does this make things easier for?!"

"Me."

"Explain that," you growl into the phone. You start to pace the length of the kitchen.

"Keep the food stocked and yourself cared for. Price, here is your phone."

Agast you can't keep your mouth from dropping open.

"What's that about?" Price's voice draws you back from the edge of madness.

"That is about Simon adding me to his credit card without talking to me about it and expecting me to use his money responsibly and keep food in the house. If he doesn't show up to his next assignment it's because I've killed him, John. That man takes too many liberties with my life and I don't know how to make him stop."

"Well, first off don't threaten him. I can almost guarantee he likes it," John muttered into the phone.

"That is not helpful John," you snap.

"Sorry, don't know how to be helpful in this kind of situation. Call me if there are more issues though." He ended the call without a goodbye.

When you stretched your jaw to work some of the tension out of it the joint popped.

The whistle of the kettle drew your attention from your memories. Filling one cup had you turning the green kettle nearly vertical and still not having enough water to finish filling the large mug.

Without thinking about why it would be a bad idea you pull the top off to refill it. A puff of boiling steam rushes up and over both of your hands. You drop the kettle to the stove with a hiss.

"Well, that was stupid," Simon comments.

Rolling your eyes you stick your hands under cool running water. "Don't you ever do something stupid without thinking about it?"

His head appears before you, lips pressed to yours. His eyes are soft as he pulls back.

"Yes."

You glare at him.

"I'm not going to take offense that you think kissing me is stupid. Nope, not taking offense at that."

You slam the water off and aggressively dry your hands, tossing the towel on the counter instead of neatly returning it to its home.

A few hours of avoiding him later you overhear a conversation on speakerphone from the living room.

"Simon you are the stupidest smart man I've ever met. And that's saying something, we both know Soap," John chastises Simon.

Simon chuckled dryly, "Still don't understand how he can do the math to blow an oil rig sky high but can't figure out a budget."

John chuckles in reply.

"Don't know how to explain to her that it was the kissing that was stupid, not the kissing her," Simon says quietly.

"Can't help you there, if she's mad at you she is more likely to agree to go on a date with me," John points out sounding smug.

Is that what they have been doing asking you on dates, trying to win? You can't decide if you should be offended or flattered.

"I could take her on a date if I wanted but I like spending time with her here."

"I like spending time with her too, but I can also get a cool activity out of it at the same time," John counters.

Okay so maybe they weren't all trying to date you, just spend time with you and only have the language to call it a date. Hmm. Looks like you will be hearing from John soon then about a date.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[erraticopeninghours]

The "Little" Miracle That Could

Thoughts on 1.15: The “little” miracle that could  

First, I love that it is Aziraphale who proposes doing half of a miracle each.  I think it really shows that he’s begun to internalize at least some of the ideas of Our Own Side.  

In Season 1, we got to see Crowley proposing the Arrangement and also coming up with the idea to raise the Antichrist together so that he will grow up to be neutral.  But this makes it clear that Aziraphale has not only been reluctantly going along with Crowley’s ideas and has - at least to some degree - accepted the idea that working together can be an effective solution to problems.  

Also, just all of the times that Aziraphale clearly expresses his desire to work with Crowley in this episode!  (Even, uh, until the end of Episode 6, rip…) Like shades of grey for the win!  All of Aziraphale’s willingness to work together (without Crowley cajoling him first) also makes me even more curious about who initially came up with the body swap solution in canon! 

I love how Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands with Gabriel parallels the scene of them with Adam at Tadfield air base.  But also, I love how it calls attention to how much has changed between seasons 1 and 2.  At Tadfield air base, Aziraphale and Crowley were only presenting a united front because it was the climax of the season, and they both knew that it was time to put everything on the table.  

In the scene with Gabriel, we’re still in the first episode of the season, and most of the rising action is still to come.  But they’re already (fairly openly) working together anyway!  And they’re in the sanctuary of Aziraphale’s bookshop rather than on an unfamiliar airbase!  And the stakes are objectively a bit lower (since they don’t know what horrible thing Gabriel was trying to avoid) but, in a personal sense, higher because they now have Their Own Side to lose!  

Additionally, as we find out, Gabriel does not wind up being very helpful at all in this season.  Whereas in Season 1, Adam essentially saves the world and sets most of the problems (e.g., the Bentley and bookshop) right, in Season 2, Aziraphale and Crowley have to rely much more directly on their own competence/incompetence and the consequences thereof.   

I know that they did count in order to get the timing just right, but I loved getting to see them miracling in sync.  Like, yes, an angel and a demon who pull powers from opposite directions, but also, two friends working so perfectly and intentionally together!  The synchronization was just really delightful to witness! 

Crowley’s “I am not your friend!” line was also very fun.  Partly because he and Aziraphale had just argued about Gabriel not being their friends / not having any friends.  But also because of his later remark to Gabriel that he [Crowley] only has one friend! 

I’m sure none of this is new, but for my own records, my initial theories on why were the miracle wound up being so powerful were: (a) Crowley was a very powerful angel before Falling; (b) they accidentally used Gabriel as a conduit or tapped into his powers (seemed less likely after viewing the entire season); or (c) Aziraphale and Crowley are extra powerful when working together because (c1) they’re an angel and a demon, (c2) they love each other so dearly, or (c3) they’ve retired from their former sides and are accidentally tapping into a third earthly/human source of power. 

Lastly, I’ve been trying to steer away from the topic of Crowley being created as a powerful angel because that feels like its own series of posts, but I do want to point out some of the little ways that Season 2 Aziraphale and Crowley have subverted common fanon ideas, but managed to do so in ways that make sense.  

(1) For example, before Season 2 and especially before Neil Gaiman mentioned anything about benevolent landlord!Aziraphale, I would have expected Crowley to be the one with oodles of human investments.  Partly because it fits his human personna of fashionable flats and black credit cards and flashy outfits but also because he seems slightly more up to date what all is involved with living in human society.  But it also makes perfect sense that Crowley approached personal finance as another way to pull one over on Hell (especially given that they never check up), and for Aziraphale to take the time to set up his bookshop and livelihood the human way!  I mean, Aziraphale does his taxes perfectly each year.  If Crowley’s aware of taxes, I’m sure he proudly does not pay them. 

(2) Similarly, from a fandom perspective, I feel like Aziraphale is generally the one who is portrayed as being especially good at wards and the more finicky, technical aspects of magic / miracles.  This makes sense given his apparent love of the little details and the formidable intelligence which we see him apply to Agnes Nutter’s book.  However, given that there are signs that Crowley is (possibly) especially powerful in season 1 (e.g., being the one to check that no one is watching before they swap back bodies, stopping time, etc.), it also makes sense that he is the one who takes point on checking that their “tiniest, most insubstantial, fractional half a miracle” succeeded. 

(3) And of course, this is later in the season, but just the fact that Aziraphale has both a firearm and the corresponding permit while Crowley has presumably no firearm experience!  In hindsight, this makes complete sense, but it was not, in my estimation, widely expected!  For me, at least, it completely tracked once I learned about it, but it wasn’t something that I felt I knew before Season 2.  And I  think little surprising details like this are especially fun because they put the audience in the same position as Crowley and Aziraphale: even though we’ve known them for a (somewhat) long time, they’re complicated enough that we still get to discover new things about them!  And that makes them even more interesting and fun to spend time with (or love?) across the years. 

(previous) (next)

[ Note: I intentionally skipped 1.14 The “I Was Wrong” Dance because I am not prepared to write about it, and I potentially may never be ready.  But it is definitely a thing – a thing that is both beautiful and egregious.] 

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face. 

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

[mochikeiji]

Forever Between Promises

Request: "Hi!! sorry but are your event still open??? if yes, could I request angst fics with prompt no. 26,42,95 for Geto?"

26. "I would give up everything if it means having you by my side"

42. "Don't leave me"

95. "I don't want to be alone again"

↠ Pairing: Getou Suguru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst, minimal mentions of suggestive themes, gojo's arc spoiler!

↬ Word Count: 1.2k

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Sweet smiles and light teasing. Intelligent in the fields of battle and on human emotion. The kind of gentleman anyone would fall for. Geto Suguru was a rare gem to be found by the likes of you. Unlike Satoru, he had welcome you with such kindness you hadn't felt in a while. He was the first and only person to show you around the grounds of Jujutsu Tech— even shared witty remarks and intriguing histories here and there while walking by your side.

During class, he would be the one to come up to your spot and sit comfortably by the window side. He'd greet you with a soft, "good morning." every now and then which he adapts as his every day habit. When Gojo isn't looking, he'd snatch a few of his stacked candies and goodies with reflexes. The brush of his hand against your thighs would never fail to shock your entire being when he's simply smuggling them in your pockets; winking at you claiming that you might enjoy some of them since he's the one who bought them after losing a bet to the loud male next to him.

It was in those moments of yours fresh in second year that made you fall deeper for the second most strongest shaman in the world. Suguru was one of your many firsts in both devilish and angelic times. Shoko would point out as if to mock Satoru how Suguru preferred you to be his duo than him. She wasn't wrong though, not when they had their backs turned, you and him happened to be sneakily holding onto each other's pinkies from behind. He always loved seeing your reactions when he does stuff like this out of the blue. Your escapades didn't last long hearing a gag from the little girl you three were assigned to escort.

So obvious how the two of you made googly eyes to each other and the sly excuses to be closer, Riko claimed as Satoru was bursting in tears from laughing. Suguru didn't mind as the two continued to rile you up. It was on that day from the corner of his eye he gave you your first kiss in front of them rather than in the hidden alleys or bedroom. Those butterflies that had filled your surroundings were lovely, but the sight of his smile was a temptation to capture and protect forever. Moments like these you wished would last for a life time.

Geto had this belief he shared with you from the beginning of your relationship. Though he adores how small your hands are when he held them in his, he's a sucker for the linked pinkies. He firmly believes that through that little connection there were unspoken promises beneath them. That belief rubbed onto you as you would have the tendency to reach for his longer pinky. No matter when and where, there was always a promise between you both.

"I would give up everything if it means having you by my side"

One of those was loyalty to each other, thick and thin as you stared to the once soft, light eyes glower with a void of darkness. You could've sworn there was still a pinch of emotions solely for you only. What had been such a nurtured, heart feeding start come to a withered end. The loss of Riko had shaken much more than your relationship with your friends and lover. No, it caused more that it came with the price of killing and becoming a wanted man. You've once thought he was easy to catch remembering how welcoming he was of you. Now you find yourself endlessly chasing after the man that had the remaining string of bright crimson on his pinky.

"Don't leave me." you pleaded, knees on the concrete floor and your head bowed as you got soaked in the rain the night you've caught onto his trail once more. "Please, Suguru. Just let me stay by your side."

As a man whom slaughtered a village and plans for the death of those who were not part of his vision of his own world, no one would think twice to believe how easy it was to have him still wrapped around your fingers. Suguru would never want to drag you away from being the women he's fallen for just to follow his deeds with the devil. He knows at some point in life, there will be a price to atone for his sins. Yet the first strongest women to ever come in par of him and Satoru, kneels before him as the love confessions spill from her lips. Suguru finds himself greedy as he again like all times, welcomes you in warm arms away from the rain. His own guilt of causing you this much mixes with the droplets from above.

In the midst of what people claim, "evil" You were far from it. The nights of worshipping the scars and bared feelings were much more intense; needy. From the eyes of his newly profound family, he was a man with strong, promising visions for a better future. Little did they know how he cannot be those without the woman who's sold herself to the devil just to walk in the fires of hell with him. The innocent escapades of yours turned into a game of ride or die having to change locations and stay ins to avoid being caught. Worse, killed on the spot.

You didn't mind living this second life. You've lost yourself at the first— lost the family that also loved you dearly as Suguru, but risking it all as long as you had him by your side was worth it. This life was what people feared, but you cherished. You were not about to lose the only ray of light you have left as his eyes flicker the smallest amount he has as he's slouched next to you the most loved, and the one and only best friend.

Take, take and take. That was all the world has done for you and you have done for your world. Part of the reason why he's only ever wanted to reset the world was for you to live in happily. No more hurting. Maybe now wasn't yours nor his lifetime of enjoyment. Born in misery of being robbed with every thing you've never had, you took what you can to live even if it was for nothing. Given the potential of being third of the strongest and landing a spot on a prestigious school, you strove and from there you were alive the moment he's linked his pinky with yours.

"I don't want to be alone again.." the life you've lived shortly became full of every thing, every second because of him. Who would've thought it'll end just the same faith as he did when he utters out an apology, weakly trying to grip onto your pinky when it was obvious that the used to be crimson colored string fades to a melancholic grey.

"I'll find you in a better world, my love."

He was a criminal indeed. Evil, so evil it had ruined every thing you've held onto. Geto Suguru was your plenty of firsts, but who knew he'd be the last you'd ever see the light in every thing ever again as he takes all of the promises from you to his afterlife.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[spacexcowgirl]

All About The Chase - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N will do anything for her best friend—and crush—Fred Weasley. Even if that means fake dating him so he can catch the eye of her cousin.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Light swearing, one allusion to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), brief mention of intoxication (again, blink and you’ll miss it), super mean awful cousin, food, a little angsty with a happy ending, 

A/N: For the anon who asked for Fred fake dating his friend to make her relative jealous! I decided to make her the twins age, and I may have went a little overboard with the cousin rivalry, but oh well. Thank you for feeding into my love of cliches! Also, I played around with using third person rather than second, it just felt right for this one. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

When Y/N was six years old, her parents—well, Santa—got her the most amazing art set. She had always liked to draw, and now she had an array of more colors than she could even really name. When her family was set to head to her Aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, she packed up all of her new markers, a stack of fresh paper, and a few of her drawings she was most proud of to show off.

The night had started wonderfully. She got a few more gifts from her grandparents, a beautiful doll from her aunt and uncle, and enough sweets and candy to last her months. When it was time to finally eat, Y/N left all of her new toys and her cherished art set in her relatives’ living room. Y/N doesn’t remember much about the dinner—why should she? It was a decade prior—but what she does remember vividly is the excitement that bubbled up in her tiny body when her mother suggested she go grab some of her artwork to show off.

Y/N slid out of her chair and raced into the living room. Only when she got there did she find all of her finished art completely destroyed, covered in scribbles from her new markers. Her brows had furrowed and her eyes welled with tears, and that’s when she heard it. The sinister little cackle of her cousin, Annalise. Y/N turned on her heels and saw the girl, uncapped marker in hand, looking at her as if she was the most pitiful thing in the world.

Y/N returned to dinner empty handed, claiming she had forgotten the drawings at home—even though her parents were certain she hadn’t. Annalise returned with an innocent smile and a portrait of their Nan in hand—one Y/N was certain she just made with her markers—and all of the adults cooed and awed at the small girl’s talent.

A few years later, Y/N was set to star in their primary school’s theater production. Looking back, she now recognized that her landing that part had little to do with any real talents she had, and more to do with how adults always seemed to fawn over her. She was always revered as ‘just the cutest little thing!’ Which evidently preceded talent at the ripe age of eight.

Right before she was set to go on stage and deliver her three lines (that’s all a star can really handle so young, right?), she found her angel wings shredded and her halo headband bent in half. The teacher didn’t have any time to fix her costume, so in a fluster she threw out her part all together, and sent Y/N to stand with the rest of the year 3 ensemble. It didn’t take long for Y/N to catch Annalise’s eye amongst the other students, only she was smirking. Y/N had to force her eyes back out onto the crowd and desperately search for her parents to keep herself from bawling on the spot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse between the pair of cousins, when Y/N was ten, her and her parents were astonished to find a letter tucked into their usual mail, accepting her into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The letter gave an answer to the many strange things Y/N had been able to make happen with her emotions alone, and her chest swelled with pride to learn just how special she truly was. Not to mention, this was finally her opportunity to escape Annalise once and for all.

Until, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t know that Annalise was a witch as well until the two families spotted each other on the platform, preparing to send both of their daughters off. Neither parents had revealed the truths of their daughters abilities to the other prior, because they knew it must be kept with the upmost secrecy. Y/N’s parents and Annalise’s parents were overjoyed to know their little girls wouldn’t be all alone, and they had someone to share their apprehensions with. Y/N and Annalise were far less enthused by the news.

A little over five years later, Y/N sat in the Gryffindor Common room, rifling through beginning of the year work that had already been assigned. In the half-decade since she’d started at Hogwarts, she had managed to avoid Annalise as best she could. It turned out to be somewhat easy, seeing as they were sorted into different house. Still, whenever Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were forced into classes together, Y/N couldn’t help but feel dread pooling in her stomach. Annalise was always sure to make those classes a living hell for her.

Y/N’s attention was pulled from her work from the sound of a small group of people bounding into the common room. She glanced back over the couch, only to see her best friends—Fred and George—laughing and pushing each other around.

“She totally wants me!” Fred argued, a cocky grin alit on his face.

“Oh, please, she hates your guts, mate.” George teased back.

Fred looked as if he were about to respond, until his eyes met Y/N’s across the room. A more genuine smile found its way onto his face as he tugged his brother towards the couch, then plopped down next to her. George then took a seat in one of the chairs across from them. Y/N neatly gathered her work into a pile, knowing for certain there was no way she would make any progress with them around.

“Y/N, will you please tell my dear brother that your cousin is absolutely mad for me, she just has a different way of showing it?” Fred threw his arm lazily around the back of the couch, right behind her, as he looked at her expectantly.

Y/N couldn’t help the sour mood that the conversation immediately put her in. There was two reasons for this; one, the most obvious, any topic that involved Annalise always brought her down. She couldn’t help it, and she tried not to hate the girl, but everything about her was draining. The second reason was that Y/N was absolutely head over heels for Fred. She had been ever since he pranked Graham Montague for making her cry in third year. The idea of Fred and Annalise together was truly the epitome of her worst nightmare.

“I don’t know, she might really just hate you.” Y/N shrugged, doing her best to keep her voice even and her face straight. Her words caused Fred to scowl and George to erupt into fits of laughter.

“Oh come on, not you too!” Fred whined as he threw his head back. 

“What do you even see in her anyways?” Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question, but she couldn’t help but ask it. 

“Well, she’s quite fit.” This answer earned a swift slap to the arm from Y/N, which only made Fred snicker. “And!” He continued, persistent to point out that looks weren’t all he cared about. “She’s feisty, and smart. And, she acts completely not interested in me.”

“So that’s why you like her?” Y/N snorted.

“Ah, dearest Y/N, one day you’ll learn that it’s all about the chase.” Fred began to twiddle some of her hair between his fingers.

“There’s plenty of girls who aren’t interested in you! You could ‘chase’ any of them.” Y/N reasoned, batting his hand away.

“You’ve got that right.” George snorted, causing his brother to shoot him a glare.

“Well, even if that were true, I’ve got my sights set on her.” Fred shrugged.

“Well, if you really want Annalise to go out with you, you should just date me.” Y/N teased as she sat forward, beginning to pluck through her papers once again. When no one laughed or responded, she quickly shot her eyes up. “I’m only kidding.”

“No, no that could work.” Fred sat up abruptly and pointed a finger towards her. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’m really not.” Y/N shook her head quickly. “That might breach the list of dumbest things I’ve ever said.”

“Yeah, right, don’t forget we’ve been around you drunk, Y/L/N. That doesn’t even make the top ten.” George grinned at her, but her nerves kept her from even smiling at his little joke.

Y/N was growing desperate now, because neither of the twins were brushing off her silly joke. Fred was looking at her as if she just handed him the key to solve all of his problems, and George was doing nothing to tame his brother. Y/N glanced expectantly between the two of them as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Come on, what better way to make her jealous than to see me dating her cousin?”

Y/N had mentioned on occasion the way that Annalise always had to ruin everything for her as a child, but never in full detail. Some part of her knew if she had just been transparent about how truly awful the girl had treated her, Fred would never give Annalise a second glance. But now, he thought they were nothing more than cousins with a small childhood rivalry, and for that he could justify going after her.

“Please, Y/N,” Fred got down on his knees in front of her, dawning his best puppy dog eyes, and put his hands in a pleading gesture. “Be my fake girlfriend for a month—two, tops.”

Y/N chewed harder on her bottom lip as she gazed at him, already feeling her reluctance slipping away. She could never say no to him, especially when he looked so adorable. Y/n breathed out a sigh and dropped her head to look at her folded hands in her lap. All thoughts of self preservation and protecting her heart went out the door; she knew she would say yes to him.

“Fine.” Her voice was quiet, so much so that it took Fred a second to make sure he had heard her properly. 

“Really? Just like that? I was about to start bribing you with sugar quills and a month of Herbology homework—”

“Well, if you’re offering—”

“Nope, too late. You agreed before I had to.” Fred grinned at the girl before swooping in and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Now, let’s set up some ground rules.”

Fred began to drone on about what they would and wouldn’t do. Things like holding hands in the corridors, sitting close at meals, kisses on the cheeks and forehead. Which pet names they would and wouldn’t use. Number one, though, was no kissing on the lips. 

Y/N only listened halfheartedly as Fred rambled on, offering a slight head nod ever now and then to show she was in agreement. As Y/N thought over just what she had gotten herself into, she realized the next few weeks were going to be awful.

-

It didn’t take long for rumors of Fred and Y/N’s budding romance to swirl. She often found herself walking hand in hand with him through the corridors, light whispers trailing behind them. Often times, people she had hardly ever spoken to would come up to her and gush about how they always just knew Fred and her would be perfect together. Y/N would always politely smile, then wonder if they could hear her heartbreaking as loudly as she could.

To make matters worse, Fred was the perfect ‘boyfriend.’ Just as she always assumed he would be. He’d carry her books in one arm, swing their intertwined hands with the other, and walk her to each of her classes. At night, he’d sit with her in the library while she poured over her notes for the day—even though she knew he wanted nothing more than to be out pranking with George and Lee. She adored all of the extra time they were getting to spend together, until she’d remember that it was only temporary, and if he were lucky, he’d be doing all of these things with Annalise in a month.

It wasn’t until about three weeks into their agreement that Annalise approached her. Fred had walked her to potions that day, like he always did. He was making her laugh loudly, not caring at all about the many eyes upon them.

“It’s a wonder your mum didn’t ship you and George off when you were toddlers,” Y/n snorted. “It sounds like you two were menaces.”

“Oh, we were.” Fred nodded, a small grin on his face. “But I reckon we were the cutest babies she had so far, so she kept us around.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes before nudging him lightly with her shoulder. They had finally made it to the potions classroom, so it was time for them to part. Fred handed her back her books and dropped her hand, but didn’t walk away until he had placed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Meet you outside of here after to walk to lunch?” He confirmed, but there was no need. It was the routine they had fallen into.

“Mhm.” Y/N gazed up at him, unable to contain the giddy smile on her lips. With that, he turned and began walking down the hallway, but not before shooting her a wink over his shoulder.

Y/N watched his retreating figure, a lovesick grin plastered to her face. Just when she had pulled herself from her daydreams and was about to enter the classroom, she ran hard into a firmly planted body.

“So, you and Weasley are pretty serious then, huh?” Annalise stood with her hands on her hips, a look that read as both disgust and amusement riddled on her face.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Y/N quickly recovered, hugging her books closer to her chest. This year, she had more classes with Annalise than any year prior, seeing as they both received a significant amount of O.W.L.s.

“Hm.” Annalise’s eyes trailed down the hallway where Fred had once been, before letting them snap back to Y/N. “Don’t know how you managed that.”

Y/N felt her blood run cold, but couldn’t find the energy within her to talk any further. So, she simply brushed past Annalise and into the classroom, ignoring the scoff that left Annalise’s lips when she pushed her out of the way. Y/N found her usual seat in the back and trained her eyes ahead, careful to keep her expression calm. That was, until Annalise slid into the seat next to her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N gaped at her. It wasn’t like they had assigned seats, but Y/N had always sat next to Patricia Stimpson. The girl was constantly fussing and nervous, always afraid to make a wrong move, but she certainly wasn’t the worst person Y/N could be stuck with.

“Asked Stimpson to trade seats.” Annalise shrugged nonchalantly, before a wicked grin grew on her face. “Figured we could get some good, cousin, bonding time.”

Y/N wanted to groan, but then Snape was gliding into the room and silencing everyone. She was certain this would be the longest lecture of her life.

-

When the class ended, Y/N didn’t wait for Fred outside. Instead, she had pushed up from her seat and hurried through the corridors, skipping lunch entirely to go wallow in her dorm room. Annalise had made the lecture a living hell, whether it be from snide comments she’d whisper over or by purposefully ruining their potion, then blaming it on Y/N. Internally, she cursed Fred—although it wasn’t really his fault—for putting her in the position to be in Annalise’s line of fire once again.

Y/N ended up avoiding Fred the rest of the day, scurrying between classes before he could find her. When she was finally done for the day, she wanted nothing more than to hide out in her dorm and cry. That’s exactly what she had started doing, too, before her door creeped open.

Y/N held her breath, assuming it was either Angelina or Alicia coming back before dinner. But, when her mattress dipped slightly from the weight of someone sitting down, she quickly spun around, coming face to face with Fred.

“Darling,” He cooed. It was a nickname he had taken to calling her ever since they started ‘dating,’ although no one was around now, and he was still using it. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“How’d you get in here?” Y/N croaked, avoiding his question entirely.

“Figured out how to get past the charm ages ago.” Fred rested a gentle hand on her knee. “Then, Ang gave me her key. Said she saw you run up her. So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And why’ve you been avoiding me all day?”

At that, Y/N lost it once again. Tears began streaming down her face freely, and she quickly sat up and accepted Fred’s opened arms. He raked his fingers through her messy hair and let her cry on his shoulder, gently soothing her to a place where she’d be able to speak.

“It’s just…” It was on the tip of her tongue. Y/N wanted desperately to tell him the truth about how awful Annalise truly was. But, just like when she was younger and never ratted Annalise out, she just couldn’t now. She didn’t know why it was, but it always felt like if she spoke the words out loud, then Annalise had won. “I’ve just had an awful day.”

“Snape will do that to you.” Fred tutted, clearly assuming her change in behavior post-potions was brought on by the professor. “I’m sorry, love.”

Y/N sniffled a few more times into his shoulder, wishing desperately that he was holding her in a way that wasn’t platonic. She craved nothing more than for him to want her like she’d always wanted him. But that seemed to be just a fantasy. The muggle fairytales she had been told growing up weren’t real, and the wicked witch was winning.

“Why don’t we go for a walk, get some fresh air?” Fred pulled back to look over her face, concern filled in his eyes. 

“But, you’re missing dinner…” 

“Eh, the house elves love me. I’ll just sneak down to the kitchens and grab something later.” Fred shrugged, a small smile now growing on his face. “You and me, we can make a whole night of it. I’ll sneak some snacks up and we can watch one of those old muggle movies you love so much.”

While Y/N was far from being completely okay, the tenderness he was exhibiting towards her made her heart swell. She knew he had plans with George and Lee that night, some big prank on a few Slytherins, but here he was, throwing it all away for her. He gently reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing a few stray tears away with his thumb. Y/N avoided his eyes, afraid that they would communicate all of the non-platonic love she felt for him, then nodded.

“Perfect.” Fred grinned before jumping up and extended his hand out to her. “Well, let’s go.”

Fred guided her the whole way out of the castle, keeping her close as they walked through the grounds. The autumn air was cool, and at the very second that Y/N shivered, Fred was wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. 

They walked around and talked for a little over an hour, giddy smiles on their faces all the while. Fred made her laugh so hard she abandoned all thoughts of Annalise, her mind completely filled with the tall red head beside her. He just had this way about him that could make anything that was possibly wrong seem miniscule. He reminded her of everything good in the world.

Once the sun was fully down and the temperature had dropped significantly, the two could no longer justify being outside in the cold. Fred made a show of wrapping her hands in his own, rubbing them together to bring her some warmth, before guiding her back to the castle.

They parted ways shortly, just so Fred could sneak into the kitchens and Y/N could get the movie set up in the common room. She laid out a few blankets and pillows then pushed the couch back a bit, thankful that it was a Wednesday night and most students seemed to have already gone to bed. When Fred returned, he handed Y/N a plate of food then sat down cross-legged beside her, balancing his own plate in his lap.

Y/N started the movie and dug into her food, giggling lightly at Fred’s ravenous way of eating. He had certainly been hungry earlier, but she needed him, so evidently he pushed his hunger aside. When their plates were finished, they stacked them neatly on the table behind them, before completely turning their attention to the movie.

“Okay, wait, who’s the green girl again?” Fred questioned as he pointed towards the screen, brows furrowed.

“If you would pay attention, you would know.” Y/N giggled. “She’s the Wicked Witch of The West.”

“She’s supposed to be a witch?” Fred crinkled up his nose, confusion clear on his face. “I don’t know any green witches.”

“It’s a muggle movie, Fred.” Y/N lightly rolled her eyes.

“And who’s she?”

“Glinda, the good witch.”

“Okay, I definitely know witches don’t dress like that.” Fred teased, eyeing the woman on the screen’s frilly pink dress

“Maybe I should start.” Y/N giggled, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Think I could pull it off?”

“Darling, you’d look beautiful in anything.” Fred winked at her, causing her face to heat up. Some part of her knew it was nothing more than harmless joking, but she couldn’t help the way he lit something alive within her. 

“Ya think?” Y/N scooted a bit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her giddy smile.

“I know.” His voice was soft, and the two of them remained quiet for the next few scenes of the movie.

At some point, the two of them had shifted to lay down in order to get more comfortable on the floor. Fred was laying on his back with one hand behind his head, the other resting idly in between them. Y/N was sprawled out on her stomach, her face down by his feet. Every little bit her eyes would light up and she’d glance back to tell him that her favorite part was coming up, only for him to realize that every part seemed to be her favorite part. Still, he never pointed that out, but instead just smiled fondly at her and nodded.

“Ugh.” Y/N grimaced, a slight shiver running down her spine. “Those monkeys always terrified me when I was little.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred sat up now, leaning closer to her. “You scared now?”

“Psh, no.” Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced back over at him, only to find him slowly inching towards her. She pointed a finger out warningly. “Fred, don’t.”

It was no use, Fred’s hands latched themselves to her sides and began tickling her feverishly. Y/N squealed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. In the process, she had flipped over onto her back and was now kicking her legs out, trying to get him to stop, but that only egged him on further.

“You sure you’re not scared, Y/L/N?” Fred teased. “I could comfort you, if you were.”

“Freddie! Stop!” Y/N breathed out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes from her laughter.

Y/N now had the front of his jumper balled in her fists, trying desperately to get him to stop. After another minute, he did, and her wriggling ceased. Still, he loomed over top of her while she gripped onto his jumper tightly. Both of them were silent as they stared into each other’s eyes, faces only inches apart. For half a second, Y/N swore she saw Fred’s eyes flicker down to her lips, but then she convinced herself she must have dreamed it.

The sounds of the movie seemed to draw them back to the present, and Y/N let go of Fred’s jumper, causing him to sit up. She followed suit, clearing her throat in hopes of easing the tension between them. Fred was never one to let any awkwardness linger, so he nudged her with his elbow before laying back down in the spot he had been before.

“Cuddle up, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe from the big scary winged monkeys.” He winked as he opened his arms for her.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly, trying desperately to calm the nerves in her stomach, before obliging and cuddling into his side. She let her head rest on his chest, her hand placed just over his heart, as he tightened his arm around her. Y/N found that she couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, what with Fred pulling a blanket up around them and gently stroking her hair. She was lulled to sleep by the action, finding that she wished every night, she could fall asleep in his arms.

The two were startled awake the next morning by a bout of loud laughter. As Y/N quickly sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she spotted George, fully dressed in his school uniform, gazing down at them with an amused grin. Fred groaned from where he still laid on the floor, pulling a pillow over his face to block out the light.

“And what’s this?” George cocked his head to the side. “You guys are really taking this ‘fake dating’ thing pretty seriously. Honestly, you’ve got me convinced.”

Fred shot up quickly at that, nervously looking around the common room to make sure no one heard. When he realized it was only the three of them, he let out a breath of relief.

“Come off it, will you? We just fell asleep after watching a movie.” Fred shot his brother a glare.

Y/N felt sick at the reminder that everything between them was fake. Every little moment she had foolishly convinced herself could mean something more was nothing but wishful thinking. Drawing in a deep sigh, Y/N forced herself up and gestured for Fred to move with a flick of her wand. Once he obliged, she flicked her wand again and gathered all of the blankets and pillows before pushing the couch back. Without another word, she stalked back up the steps to her dorm, and prepared herself for another long day.

-

When Y/N arrived to the potions classroom, her stomach dropped at the sight of Annalise once again in the seat next to her usual one. She gazed around the room, grumbling slightly when she realized she had no other choice but to sit next to the girl. 

“Wow, you look like hell.” Annalise sneered when she trudged over.

“Probably because I was up all night with Fred.” Y/N shot back, before truly registering her words. “Not… Not like that.”

Annalise snorted at the insinuation and rolled her eyes. It seemed she was about to say something, no doubt some snide comment, but was cut off by Snape walking into the room. Y/N straightened up and began to listen to the professor drone on, her stomach twisting in knots when she realized what that day’s lecture would entail. A cauldron sat at the front of the classroom, an alluring steam rising off of it. Y/N knew, it was Amortentia.

After giving a brief lecture on it, Snape used his wand to lift the cauldron in the air, slowly letting it stop by each desk for the students to gaze at. He appeared completely uninterested by the kids’ excitement from what they smelled. Finally, it arrived at Y/N and Annalise’s table.

Y/N leaned forward and took a breath in, her nose being filled with the scent of fireworks, chocolate, and the shampoo Fred used. She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, not needing the reminder that she felt so deeply for someone who didn’t return her affections.

Annalise leaned forward and breathed in a deep breath, a dreamy smile gracing her face. Her eyes flickered towards the front of the classroom, finding Snape deep in conversation with another Ravenclaw student. Quickly, she pulled an empty glass bottle from her bag and dipped it into the cauldron, filling it entirely.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N hissed, sitting up abruptly.

“I’m gonna use it as perfume. So everyone smells what they’re attracted to on me, and wants to be around me.” Annalise shrugged, placing a cork on the bottle and sliding it back into her bag. Y/N knew she could get in loads of trouble for carrying such a dangerous and potent potion, yet she didn’t speak up to turn her in. “Professor Snape, we’re all done back here!”

And with that, Snape was whisking the cauldron away and carrying on with his lecture. Y/N watched Annalise out of the corner of her eye, certain she was up to something from the glint in her eye. Still, like always, she stayed silent.

-

A week later, all thoughts of Annalise’s odd behavior had completely left Y/N’s mind. She was so caught up in falling for Fred even more each day, she could hardly focus on anything else. The fact that he hadn’t brought up Annalise once since their movie night didn’t go unnoticed to her, and she found herself chasing the familiar hope that maybe he was starting to fall for her too.

“I’ve gotta catch up with Georgie and Lee—they’re still mad I ditched them last week.” Fred informed her as he finished his dinner. “Catch you later?”

She nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face when he swooped down and kissed her cheek before hurrying off. Y/N was so in a daze that she didn’t even notice someone slide in the seat beside her, occupying the space Fred was once in.

“Ah, so you two are still together, are you?” Annalise spoke up, making her presence known. She wore a devilish grin as she feigned a casual act, picking at her nails.

“Obviously.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“What a shame, I just hate to be the one to tell you this.” She sighed.

“Tell me what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed as she turned to look at Annalise full on.

“Well, I’ve been wearing my perfume, you see.” She craned her neck and circled her hand, gesturing for Y/N to lean in and take a whiff. The smell was undeniable, and as much as she hated being in the presence of her cousin, it kept her reeled in. “Smell Freddie, do you?”

“Why do you care?” Y/N gritted her teeth, hating the way his nickname sounded coming from her mouth.

“Because, he doesn’t smell you.” Annalise shrugged. “In fact, what was it he told me he smelled? Right, fresh ink, my peach shampoo, and… Oh, I can’t remember. It was so hard to pay attention while he was snogging me in that broom closet.”

Y/N instantly dropped the utensils in her hand, ignoring the way they clattered to the ground. The sound drew a few eyes towards them, and Annalise simply smirked at her cousin. Y/N could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she was also angry. At Fred, for not just telling her that he had finally gotten what he wanted. And at Annalise, for always being so dead set on ruining everything for her.

“What did I ever do to you?” Y/N heard her voice crack, and she felt just as pathetic as Annalise wanted her to feel. When she spoke again, her tone increased significantly. “Why must you always ruin everything for me?”

Some part of her knew she shouldn’t be freaking out, because this had always been the plan. She knew Annalise could never let anything be hers, so she should simply take it in stride and move on. But she couldn’t. She had been so sure that Fred and her were starting to build something real, that she’d finally be with the boy she’d crushed on for years, and now all of that hope was shattered.

“I’m just being a good cousin.” Annalise slapped a hand to her chest, feigning some sort of dignity that she certainly didn’t have. “Really, he was bound to cheat on you at some point. I just made it happen sooner rather than later. You should be thanking me.”

Y/N reached for her wand and gripped it tightly in her fist, ready to point it at her and fire off whatever hex came to mind. In an instant, fear was in Annalise’s eyes and she was cowering back. Professor McGonagall was now rushing forward, shouting her surname and ordering her to stop. In response, Y/N lowered her wand and wiped at her eyes, forcing none of her tears to fall.

“You know what, you’re not even worth it.”

And with that, she was marching out of the Great Hall, ignoring any calls of her name.

-

When Y/N made it back to the common room, she found George, Lee, and Fred gathered around a small table in the corner. A few other students were littered throughout the room, as well. Y/N almost just stormed right up to her dorm, intent on never speaking to Fred again, but she was sick of always letting people treat her like rubbish. So, right as she made it to the base of the steps, she turned on her heels and marched to their table, causing all of their eyes to fall on her.

“Hello, love—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred. “Godric, I know I agreed to help the two of you get together, but cheating on me? Leaving me embarrassed in front of the whole school? What is wrong with you?”

Lee and George glanced at each other with wide eyes before signally towards their steps and quietly sneaking away. This left Fred in open-mouthed shock, gaping at Y/N in all of her fury.

“I don’t know what—”

“And don’t even tell me how it wasn’t really cheating, because we weren’t really together, I know. But the rest of the school doesn’t know that! Annalise doesn’t know that! And now you’ve fed directly into her only wish of making my life utterly horrible.” Y/N fumed, although her hands were shaking slightly. “So, congrats Fred. You finally got the girl. And Annalise got what she wanted, too. Looks like you two are perfect for each other.”

After saying her piece, she quickly turned around and began making her way back towards her steps. She ignored the many sets of bewildered eyes on her, too angry and hurt to even care. She was only stopped by the feeling of Fred gripping onto her wrist and spinning her back around to face him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fred searched her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on you, fake or not.”

“But—” 

“Annalise yanked me into a broom closet earlier, asking me to smell her neck like a bloody lunatic. So, I did, because I’m always enticed by strange offers.” He quipped with a smile, but when Y/N shot him a pointed look, he became serious once again. “Not the time? Right, okay. So, I smelled her, and I asked if she cornered me in there just to tell me she nicked your perfume, and she got all huffy, so I left. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t even mention it because it was too weird to explain.”

“You…” The words got caught in Y/N’s throat, all of her anger leaving her body. “You smelled my perfume?”

“Yeah, and faintly my mum’s roast, but I didn’t question it.” Fred shrugged. “Why?”

Y/N slowly raised a hand up to her mouth, gazing between where his hand still held her wrist and his eyes. Fred had never been very good at potions, so she knew just saying Annalise was wearing ‘Amortentia’ would explain very little.

“She was wearing a love potion, Fred.” Y/N spoke up, much quieter than before. “You smell what you’re attracted to in it.”

In an instant, Fred’s face was a bright shade of red and he quickly dropped her wrist. His eyes dipped down as he avoided her gaze, and Y/N realized this was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous.

“I…” Fred struggled to find words. “I don’t—I mean, I do… But I didn’t want you to—”

“Ask me what I smell in mine.” Y/N urged, cutting off his rambling. Fred shot his head back up at that, looking at her quizzically. 

“What do you smell in yours?” There was a hopeful glint behind his eyes, though his words were soft.

“Fireworks, chocolate…” Y/N took a step closer to him. “And your shampoo.”

The second that Fred fully registered what her words meant, he was closing the distance between the two of them. Y/N let out a shocked giggle as he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing his lips fully to hers for the first time. Although she had seen fireworks before, and she had smelled them almost every time Fred and George were around, neither compared to what it was like to feel fireworks. Y/N’s arms wound around his neck as she pulled him closer to her, prepared to live in the moment forever if she could.

When they pulled apart, there was nothing left either of them had to say. Fred could apologize for putting her through hell for the past few weeks, and Y/N could apologize for being so harsh, but that didn’t matter to either of them at the moment. All that mattered, was they both finally realized what had always been right in front of them.

-

Very early on in the start of Y/N and Fred’s real relationship, she finally opened up to him about just how awful Annalise really was. His jaw clenched at everything she told him, and he quickly expressed that he never would’ve wanted to be with her had he known. Y/N assured him she didn’t care, because this time, Annalise truly lost.

Although Y/N had been quick to brush off her feud with her cousin, telling Fred it was best to just leave it alone, she couldn’t say she was surprised when she walked into the Great Hall one morning, finding Annalise cowering at her table with neon green hair. It was the exact shade she had used when they were six to ruin Y/N’s drawing. While Fred and George vehemently denied any involvement in the prank, Y/N simply placed a short kiss to Fred’s lips, and quietly thanked him.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15​

[empiretoppled]

guardian angel ⸝⸝ oneshot

pairings: sharon carter x winter soldier!reader.

warnings: mentions of blood and injury, attempted brainwashing.

summary: once upon a time you were a winter soldier, but those days are long behind you. at least until someone tries to use your code words to activate that side of you. luckily you seem to have a guardian angel aka sharon carter.

word count: 1312 (can you believe this is the longest oneshot i've ever written?).

// REQUEST: Can I request a Sharon x f!reader where reader was a winter soldier like Bucky with the arm and everything and someone tries to use to words to activate the reader and Sharon is there and she’s just really protective of reader helps her through it 🥺🥺 ༐ A/N: it's probably obvious but this is my first attempt at writing any type of a fight scene, please be gentle.

MASTERLIST

You should have known something was odd the moment your contact had finally called back, should have realised there was something wrong about the whole deal, hell you should have called everything off the moment Madripoor was mentioned.

But you had been so desperate, like a dog begging for scraps, that the mere idea of finally being released from the mental hell Hydra had put you in put you in the sort of situation where ignoring any possible lead, no matter how unreliable and risky it was hadn't even seemed like a viable option.

And look where your desperation had gotten you, crouched in a dirty alley, back pressed against a brick wall, praying to whatever god was wiling to listen that you had successfully escaped the men chasing after you. A quick glance down confirmed what you had feared, your arm – the metal one was fried beyond repair, the damage far worse then anything you would be able to fix all alone, stuck in a stupid alley.

Seeing the state of your arm made the fear in your gut grow, whoever these men were they had come prepared, taking out your main advantage before the fight had fully begun. You arm had been made to withhold nearly anything and were you not in so much pain you would have been impressed that they knew how to break it in such maner, but right now you were annoyed and more then a little frightened.

The serum rushing through your veins did very little in terms of dulling the amount of pain you were currently in and you could feel the initial rush of adrenaline wearing off, forced to bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying out in order to avoid gaining attention or even worse revealing your location to the same men you were so desperately trying to outrun.

It seemed that whatever short period of rest the alley had been able to provide would soon be broken as the sound of approaching footsteps reached your hiding spot. Years of practice made you leap to your feat, your teeth grinding as the sudden movement made another stab of pain run through your injured arm, black spots blurring your vision.

By the time your vision somewhat cleared and you were able to once again focus on your surrondings, there were three of the men rounding the corner, their guns drawn and pointed in your direction. It took you barely a moment to absorb the scene and act accordingly, once again driven by pure instinct as you charged at them, knocking the guns from two of the men and ducking just in time to avoid getting hit by the bullet shot by the third.

The closest man lunged and you barely had time to react, stepping to the side at the last minute and grasping at his hair as he passed, using the man's momentum to throw him aside, his head hitting the brick wall you had been pressed against less then a few minutes ago. The second came at you before you had a chance to even straighten yourself, bending your injured arm with enough force that it made you cry out in agony, a wail that would without doubt drag even more unwanted attention your way.

Trapped, you struggled to move away, desperation kicking in as you blindly hit in his direction, only to receive another blow to you side as his hold on you tightened. "Now, now, that's enough of that soldat.", he reprimanded you, as out of breath as you felt, his voice more dissapointed then angry, similiar to that of an owner trying to control a disobedient puppy and way too smug for your liking.

"What a coincidence, I happen to agree, that is quite enough of that.", a new voice rang out, shrill and sudden, quickly followed by the sound of a gun going off, the man's grip faltering just enough for you to slip out of it. However, the respite didn't last long as he pulled you back by your hair, swiftly turning you around so you stood between him and the new arrival, shielding himself from whoever it was that seemingly came to your aid.

"Now, I was going to wait until we were in a more controlled environment but what can I say? I'm nothing if not flexible.", the man behind you took a shallow breath as if preparing himself, "Желание." No, no, no! "Семнадцать. Ржав-" Bang.

You felt it before you heard it, sharp pain through your middle, unmistakable and far too familiar. Whoever it was that came to your rescue shot the man holding you, straight through you.

No longer held back, you swayed on your feet, closing your eyes as you prepared yourself for the harsh fall. But the action proved to be unnecessary as strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you into their side and taking the worst of the impact as your weight took them down with you.

"Sorry about that.", the voice was much closer now, softer then it had been earlier, familiar, your groggy mind added.

Every cell in your body screamed for you to stay down, to rest, that you were safe now but you fought against it, pained moans falling from your lips as you tried to crawl as far away as you could. It was only when you opened your eyes that you stopped, the hood that had been pulled over your savior's head had fallen down sometimes during your struggle and your fuzzy brain was finally able to recognize the person in front of you.

"Sharon?", you croaked out, confusion obvious in your voice, whoever it was you had expected to see, it sure as hell wasn't Sharon Carter. "Hell of a reunion, am I right?", she replied, pulling herself from the ground, her voice teasing but visibly hesitant as she approached you, hands in front of her as a clear sign that she meant no further harm.

The gesture was clearly more for your sake then out of fear, there wasn't much fight left in you, the ease with which she had stood up made it obvious your earlier attempt at getting away from her had only hurt you, it made your lip twitch in an attempt to smile.

She stopped walking a small distance away from you, her gaze questioning, and it was only when you gave her a nod that she moved closer, crouching next to you, swiftly taking off her hoddie, doing her best to tie it around you tight enough to stop the blood flow. "It won't help for long but it should be good enough until I get you to my apartment to patch it up.", she mumbled and you were unsure whether she was saying it for your benefit or hers.

You looked up at her then down to the makeshift bandage which was seeping with more blood, your face paling at the sight. "You sure about that?"

"Yes.", she stood back up, her grip on your shoulders firm but gentle as she pulled you to your feet, quick to position herself in a way that let her support most of your body weight, which was a good thing as you weren't sure you wouldn't have just fallen back to the ground if she didn't.

You were dead on your feet, barely able to keep your eyes fully open by the time you both reached her car, Sharon's talking the only that kept you somewhat awake. You could't quite tell what she was saying but her voice gave you something to focus on which you were extremely grateful for.

It was only about an hour later, after she had both cleaned and dressed the injury, that you finally let yourself fall asleep, healing and most importantly safe. With Sharon right by your side.

[babymetaldoll]

Danger Days - Chapter thirteen: "Screaming infidelities"

Word count: 15,4K

Summary: It's Gubler's birthday and like the title says, someone will fuck it up.

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, angst, hurt, pain, alcohol, mention of oral sex.

A/N: Kids, I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this, but... it's done. Please don't hate me.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | Chapter sixteen | Chapter seventeen | Chapter eighteen | Chapter nineteen | Chapter twenty | Chapter twenty one | Chapter twenty-two | Chapter twenty-three | Chapter twenty-four |

---

::: Paris, March 1st, 2011 :::

Joey stared at the ceiling of her room and sighed. She was alone. It was already midnight. She was happy she finally had a room on her own, after weeks traveling on a bus with the band. They were in Paris, and she was weary. But still, she couldn’t sleep. She stared at her phone and sighed. Matthew had said “I’ll call you back” an hour ago, and still, he hadn’t called her back. That was killing her.

She hadn’t seen her fiancé in over a month, and they were both in different time zones, which made it pretty hard to talk. She was nine hours ahead. At the moment, she was fighting to stay awake to talk to him, but he wasn’t calling her. Would it be wrong if she insisted? Matthew was working… maybe Joey should just sleep. She was weary after all, too much traveling, too many shows. That tour was fucking eternal, and she just wanted to go home.

The young woman walked to her bag, grabbed one of Matthew’s shirts, and put it on a pillow. Yes, she dressed a pillow in her boyfriend’s clothes. That’s how much she missed him. She could deal with loneliness ‘cos she was used to being alone. Still, somehow, she couldn’t deal with the loneliness that meant being far from Matthew.

- "It’s a good thing I decided to marry him then"- she said to herself as she stared at the ring on her finger.

A big part of her wanted to time travel and tell four-year-old Joey everything would be ok, that she was going to be happy after all. That she was going to manage to trust not one but two people. Her soon-to-be husband and her best friend, Mikey Way. If there was something she could cherish from being on tour with My Chem for months now, it was calling Michael James her brother.

Joey wrapped her arms around “Mattpillow” and smelled his perfume on it. Maybe it was better to text him and tell him she was gonna call earlier; it was… three in Los Angeles. If she set the alarm at six in the morning, she could catch him around nine. Yeah, that was much better.

- “Call you later. I’ll sleep a little, love you! Take care!”- she texted him.

::: Barcelona, March 5th, 2011 :::

Mikey, Ray, and Joey walked outside the arena, searching for the best sangria they could find before the show. Joey’s mom had sent them on that quest, repeating over and over again there was no way they left Spain without having tasted it. And considering it was alcohol, they didn’t argue a lot with Mrs. Sigmundsson.

- "Dude, I’m so fucking tired"- Mikey whined as he finished his hundredth cup of coffee of the day.

- "I know, I need a break from touring"- Joey said and yawned- "I wanna go home."

- "Me too"- Ray added and looked at his phone- "I miss my wife."

- "Oh, shut up!"- Mikey argued right away- "I don’t wanna go over this conversation again, you have someone you love, and you miss them. I don’t miss home, I have no one, end of the story"- Joey and Ray looked at each other and raised an eyebrow.

- "Is your underwear too tight today, or are you just being a little bitch because you want to?"- Joey asked right away, Ray chuckled, but Mikey didn’t think it was funny.

- "Shut up, Bug."

- "Not in the mood to be nice, then."

- "Nop"- that last “p” sounded like the end of it. But that wasn’t going to stop Joey.

- "Sorry, we are…"- what stopped Joey was her cellphone. Her eyes shone like diamonds when she saw Matthew’s face at the other side of the screen, waking up.

- "Yami! Good morning!"

- "Akumu!!!"- Ray and Mikey looked at her and walked a little faster to give her some privacy.

- "Is she still sleeping with the “Mattpillow”?"- Toro asked- "That shit is creepy"- and Way laughed, finally, he had been pretty serious that day. And the day before.

- "Yeah, that’s a thing. I’ve taken pictures I wanna use to blackmail her in case I ever need it."

- "Good plan"- Ray looked around. Joey was standing half a block behind, still on the phone- "Mikey, are you ok?"

- "Yeah, why?"

- "‘Cos you don’t seem to be ok at all,"- Toro felt it was his duty as a friend to tell what had been in his mind for the last couple of weeks- "Dude I’m sorry, I just… don’t think you… it’s shitty you are getting a divorce. I just don’t think you are taking it well."

- "Can you take a divorce well?"- Mikey simply replied, and that was enough to shut Ray up.

- "I’m just trying to tell you I’m here if you want to talk, and you don’t have to get so drunk every time we are out or whatever."

- "Is this an intervention? ‘Cos we had many those for Gerard back in the days. I can recognize an intervention."

- "No, Mikey! It’s not. Everybody should be here reading letters if it was"- Ray had a point- "I’m just trying to tell you, I’m here for you, man. And we can talk about anything."

- "I know, Ray… I just… don’t feel..."

- "You don’t feel like talking, I know, you haven’t talked about it, ever I guess… and I don’t feel that’s working for you. I’m scared and worried, and I’m your friend, I had to tell you."

Way and Toro stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Mikey knew Ray was right; he had shut down from all his friends, basically for the last three months or so. Still, he didn’t feel ready to share any kind of thought or feeling with any of them.

- "Ok kids, around the block, there’s a place called “Las tapas de Pepe.” Apparently, they have a killer sangria"- Joey clapped and walked past them on her way to the bar.

- "Wait, how do you know that?"

- "Because, Raúl me enseñó muchas cosas nuevas, (Raul taught me a lot of new things)"- the two musicians looked at her frowning not getting a word, so the girl turned to them and smiled- "That guy over there, his name is Raúl. I asked for sangria, he gave me an address. Come on!"

Joey turned around again, avoiding looking sad in front of her friends. The truth was, she wasn’t doing that well about being far from Matthew. It was getting too hard. She was thinking about quitting. And every time she talked to him, she was feeling more sure about that decision. She never told him, though. She didn’t want to make him feel responsible in case she made a mistake leaving the job. She also didn’t want him to know how much influence he had on her, Joey didn’t want to lose power in his life, she didn’t want to stop being independent, but it was hard.

::: Germany, March 8th, 2011 :::

Mikey was sugar rushed, jumping around the bunks as the bus traveled from Zurich to Munich. He and Joey had bought most of the chocolates in Switzerland and ate half of them in less than two hours. They were in heaven. Sugar heaven.

- "Can you please stop it?"- Gerard yelled at them from his bunk.

- "Nope"- his younger brother answered and jumped like a kid on top of him.

- "Leave me alone! I wanna sleep!"

- "Fine. Come on, Bug, let’s get away from this loser"- his words were so childish Joey burst out laughing.

- "Get in, loser, we are going shopping"- Joey said and flipped her hair. Gerard stared at her walking away with his brother, and groaned as he covered his head with the pillow.

He was fucked.

The last month had been torture for him. Joey was now not even talking to him. Never. It felt she honestly hated him, and he knew he couldn’t ask. Lynz kept asking for her, and he was sure she suspected something was going on.

- "So, have you and the guys have fun these days?"- she had asked earlier that day when he called her before the show.

- "Fun like going out fun? No, we are too tired to move. These weeks have been killers."

- "So you are all just at the bus locked the whole time?"

- "Pretty much"

- "On each other’s faces?"

- "Yeah… I wanna kill Mikey."

- "And how’s Joey doing?"

- "Good… we haven’t talked much."

- "She hadn’t talked to you or you hadn’t?"- the singer made a pause thinking about that question, and most of all thinking what would be an intelligent answer to that.

- "We don’t share a lot"- that all he had- "I guess we don’t talk to each other"- he made a pause and lit a cigarette, walking on his own through the backstage- "Why do you ask?"

- "I don’t know, I guess you never talk about her, and I thought it might be because you have…"- Lynz made a pause to make her husband even more nervous- "A problem with her or something."

- "No, we don’t have a problem, we aren’t friends, that’s all…"

Now on the bus, Gerard closed his eyes, still hiding under the pillow, Joey’s laughter all around him, while Frank and Ray played video games. What was he going to do?

::: At the bus, close to Munich. March 9th, 2011 :::

It was Matthew’s birthday, and Joey was miserable ‘cos she couldn’t spend the day with him. But still, she set her alarm at eight am and locked herself in the back of the bus, texting him. She wanted to be the first one to sing happy birthday to him. And so she waited, looking at the clock.

She went through old pictures to kill time, watched part of a movie Mikey had left on the DVD the night before. Matthew didn’t reply to her text. And so she waited longer. Joey wanted to call him at midnight. She was nine hours ahead. Minute by minute, she waited. Until it was time. She smiled and dialed. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

- "Where the fuck are you?"- her stomach was made a knot as her brows furrowed. Third call. Matthew finally picked up the FaceTime call.

- "Yami!!!"- he yelled, wasted- "It’s a party!"- he pointed around and moved the camera of his phone like a maniac, making Joey dizzy right away. No wonder why he wasn’t picking up.

- "Happy birthday, Akumu!"

- "Hey! Hey!"- he tried to walk through a lot of people as Joey frowned, wondering where the hell her fiancée was.

- "Wild party!"- she said as soon as she noticed Gubler had locked himself in a bathroom to talk.

- "Yeah! The guys set a little surprise party for me"- he slurred and smiled- "I love you."

- "I love you too."

- "No, I love you more. Why aren’t you here?"

- "‘Cos I’m working, but I’ll be home in two weeks, so wait for me."

- "I want you here now."

- "I wish I was there."

- "Then quit"- Joey sighed. Arguing was useless; Matthew was drunk.

- "Hey! Akumu, is Paget there? Is she gonna drive you home?"

- "No, she’s not here."

- "You are not partying with your friends?"

- "Yeah, with the guys from the movie"- Joey raised an eyebrow, thinking she had no idea where Matthew was or with who.

- "Are you sure you are ok?"

- "Yeah, baby! It’s my birthday, we are gonna party like it’s my birthday!"- Joey’s heart ached at the thought of what could go wrong. But she loved and trusted her boyfriend, and she knew he would never hurt her.

- "Hey Matthew"- she said and looked straight into his eyes through the camera- "I love you."

- "I love you too."

- "I’ve got your heart here with me all the time"- she showed him her necklace, and he nodded- "There’s gonna be a present from me waiting for you when you get home."

- "Nice!"- Joey smiled, thinking it was probably Matthew wasn’t going to remember that conversation- "Listen, Yami, someone is trying to get into the bathroom."

- "That’s ok, I’ll call you later, ok dorky?"- he nodded and waved, the girl kissed the screen, but he had already hung down.

Joey hated being in Germany at the moment.

Could Gubler be an asshole and cheat? No way, Joey trusted him with her eyes wide shut. But he was hot and drunk, and she was sure there were more than just a couple of girls trying to get into his pants. If the guys were there- his friends- she wouldn’t even worry about it. But they weren’t. He was with some random people from the set she hadn’t even met.

Soon the regret of their last fight came to mind. They weren’t mad at each other, but perhaps… no, there’s no way he would be an asshole because of that stupid fight. It was a silly fight for her. Was it serious for him?

A few nights before, Matthew had gotten mad at a conversation with Joey ‘cos she didn’t want to change her last name. That’s what he picked from the conversation. She just said she didn’t think it was necessary to do so. He didn’t take it that well.

- "What’s the problem with changing your name?"

- "I’m just saying the tradition of women changing their last names after they marry it’s a bit old fashion. It makes me think women are still treated like an object that “belongs” to a man."

- "So you won’t change your last name?"- the girl frowned, staring at Matthew’s wide-opened eyes on the screen.

- "That’s not… do you want me to change it?"

- "Yes! of course, I do! you are gonna be my wife!"

- "So? If I’m still Joey Sveinbjörndottir after we marry, I won’t be your wife?"

- "That’s not what I meant"- Gubler was more frustrated than he had felt in months over any conversation they had ever had. This time, it was serious.

- "Then what is it?"

- "I’m just saying you should change your last name ‘cos we will be married, and I’d love for you to be Mrs. Gubler."

- "I will be your wife, isn’t that enough?"

- "Why do you always have to be so fucking independent?"- Matthew just yelled- "Can you just try to understand I want you to be mine? My wife! And I want everybody to know it!"

- "So you wanna put me on display?"

- "No!! Fuck no!!"- Matthew was tired and defeated. It seemed that stupid argument was more about a bunch of little things that had grown inside his head instead of just about the last name.

- "Why can’t I be independent? Is that a bad thing?"

- "No! It’s a good thing! I just... "- Matthew bit his tongue and sighed, trying to rearrange the thoughts in his head. He needed to make sure whatever he was going to say would explain his feelings clearly.

- "You just?"- Joey asked, standing in the middle of the hotel room she was staying at that night. She just stared at the wall, thinking she had no idea what had gotten into her boyfriend’s head.

- "I just don’t feel you need me sometimes."

- "What? Are you crazy?"

- "No, that’s what I feel. Are you gonna blame me for feeling?"

- "Well, you are being silly!"

Joey was real angry at him at the moment. Everything he had said hurt her. It seemed he had insulted all the kindness and love she had given him when it was very hard for her to show her feelings and let someone into her heart.

- "What is it that you want from me, Matthew? Do you want me to be needy and clingy? ‘Cos you know that’s not who I am!"

- "I know that! I just sometimes… it feels like you’d be great without me."

- "What?"

- "Like you don’t…"- but the girl didn’t let him continue.

- "Don’t say you feel I don’t love you!"

- "I know you love me."

- "Then?"

- "You don’t depend on me the way I depend on you"- the drummer was in shock at those words. Did he depend on her?- "You leave me here, you tour the world, you are happy, I’m here, I miss you. Every time we talk, you are shining… meanwhile, I am here, dying, waiting to be with you!"

- "First of all, you could come!"

- "I’m working too!"- but Joey cut him off and continued.

- "Second, who says I don’t miss you? Just because I’m not crying when we talk doesn’t mean I am not miserable! Matthew! What the fuck are you saying? I fucking love you with my whole life! I hate being here when I could be there with you at this very same minute doing anything together, even when that anything is staring at the wall! But I have to work, and I happen to love my job, the same way you love yours! You can’t blame me for not quitting!"

Joey bit her lips as she stared at Matthew at the other side of the screen. She was making her best not to cry. She had never been so mad at her fiancé before.

- "I just…"- he tried to continue, but his voice broke- "I feel like I’m going insane here without you"- tears fell from his eyes as Joey wiped off hers from her cheeks.

- "Matthew, I miss you too! Fuck! I’m going crazy, just like you! I want to be there. I wanna kiss you! I wanna make love to you! But… you can’t ask me to be someone I’m not! Can’t you just be happy your girlfriend loves you, misses you, and will marry you as soon as she finishes touring?"

Gubler sighed and stared at her.

- "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Matthew Gray Gubler. I don’t care about the last name. I don’t care about anything as long as you are beside me."

The young man sighed and cut her a short smile.

- "How do you always end up making me feel like a dork for getting mad at you?"

- "‘Cos I’m gonna be your wife, that’s my job"- she chuckled, and they stared in silence for a few seconds.

- "I love you so much, Joey."

- "I love you more, Matthew Gray."

That had been days before. Was Matthew still upset at her because of that? No way. He didn’t sound mad at all. He was just drunk and happy to celebrate his birthday.

- "You are overthinking this ‘cos you are far from him"- the girl reassured herself out loud and looked at the screen again- “Love you dorky”- she typed and sent her boyfriend a message. That was something he couldn’t forget.

The girl stayed still looking at the TV in front of her for a few seconds, but the knot in her stomach was too tight, and the thoughts in her head were too scary. She felt sick, scared, anxious.

Joey was jealous, shit!

She ended up puking in the bus’s tiny bathroom, just like every time she felt seriously distressed.

- "Hey, are you ok?"- Gerard found her on the bathroom floor, flushing, pale, and a little weak.

- "Yeah…"

- "Are you sick?"

- "No, I just… I’m ok."

- "Sure?"

- "Yeah, I just need an herbal tea. I felt dizzy all of a sudden"- she held the hand he offered her and stood up.

- "I’ll put on the kettle"- Joey stumbled a little as she walked with Gerard to the front of the bus.

- "Hey Bug"- she heard Mikey’s voice as he opened the curtain of his bunk. She slowly moved over and sat next to him- "Did you talk to Matthew?"

- "Yeah, he was wasted"- and Mikey chuckled.

- "That’s my boy."

- "I didn’t like it."

- "Come on, he is a good kid. He will probably drink his liver away and then go to bed, have a killer hangover, and talk to you until either of you falls asleep like he always does."

Mikey reassured her, and the girl chuckled, nodding. Her friend was right. She was still dizzy, though, so she carefully laid down next to him and felt his arms around her slowly.

- "Bug, you are freezing."

- "I’m ok. Gerard is making me an herbal tea… I should do it, actually; he ain’t my nanny"- the girl tried to stand up, but Mikey held her.

- "You should get into your bunk for another while. You might be getting the flu."

- "I’m ok, trust me"- she finally stood up and smiled at her friend.

- "Here, take my hoodie."

- "Thanks… it stinks."

- "But it’s warm, does the trick"- she smiled and put it on. Gerard had just left the cup of tea on the table. She walked over slowly and cut him a smile. An honest and nice smile.

- "Thank you, Gerard."

- "You can call me Gee, you know"- she nodded and sat down by the table.

Gerard sat in front of her, sipping his fresh cup of coffee. The two of them were quiet. Joey was thinking about Gubler. What was he doing at that very exact moment? Why wasn’t she there? How would it have been if they were together? They would probably be naked in his bed. And that would be great. It would be way much better than what she was doing at the moment, sitting on a bus staring at the window.

- "Are you sure you are alright?"- he whispered, and she nodded again- "Do you wanna go back to bed? I mean bunk."

- "No, I’m fine here… besides, we should be getting ready…"- she stayed quiet and looked outside- "Where are we?"

- "Munich"

- "Great… we had a hotel room here, right?"

- "Yeah"

- "Finally!!!"- she raised her arms, and he chuckled- "I need a real bed."

- "Me too."

- "And a long fucking bath"- he nodded and looked into her eyes. They were stuck in the cup of tea again.

- "We’ve got the Valencia gig in a couple of days."

- "Right! The MTV streamed no stressful at all show in Spain"- he chuckled and nodded.

- "Nervous?"

- "Not really"- she lied, the fact MTV was going to stream the show was freaking her out, but at the moment, she didn’t care that much. Her head was back in Los Angeles. Her phone hummed, and she quickly grabbed it. “I love you too,” Matthew had written, and a deep sigh came from her lips. Gerard was going to ask something, but not a word came from his lips. Instead, Jeff - their tour manager - opened the door and smiled.

- "I got you an early check-in at the hotel."

And those words were music for Joey’s ears.

That day was hell for the girl. The good thing was the band didn’t have anything to do but play the show, which meant: movies with Mikey and Frank, the best way to keep her head busy from thinking the worst.

- "I’m bored"- Frank whispered as he played with Joey’s hair, who was laid next to him.

- "We have to leave for the show in a while"- Mikey whispered, half awake, half asleep.

- "Great"- the girl murmured, eyes glued at the screen- "I’m hungry."

- "You just ate."

- "I’m bored. Boredom makes me hungry."

- "Come on, let’s get something to eat"- Frank grabbed Joey’s hand and stood up- "I need to move from this bed, or I’m gonna die of boredom."

- "Can you bring me some ice cream?"- Mikey asked from the bed as Joey and Frank put on their shoes.

- "Nope, if you want something, you gotta come with us"- the girl smiled at her friend, who didn’t move.

- "Damn it! Fine… I won’t have ice cream."

- "Good for you, see ya!"

Gerard was just done jerking off in his bed. He wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t have much to do. He had tried to make music, but shit wasn’t working. He had thought about calling his wife, but it was five in the morning in Los Angeles. He was miserable. He wanted to find a way to end his agony. But all he could think about was Joey walking around the bus in her pajamas. Joey sleeping in the back of the bus in those shorts and a tank top. Joey curled on a couch reading Edgar Allan Poe. His cock was killing him, and his hand hadn’t been enough. He wanted her so bad it hurt, and masturbation just wasn’t enough anymore.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he was willing to make her happy. But he knew he couldn’t do either of those things.

- “Come live with me and my wife, ‘cos polygamy ain’t illegal or whatever.”

The singer sighed and looked at the ceiling, toilet paper all over his hand, cleaning the mess he had left.

- "You have issues, dude"- Gerard said out loud and closed his eyes. Honestly, there was nothing he could do but to love the girl from a safe distance and hope for his feelings to fade as soon as the tour was over.

Way didn’t want that tour to end because he didn’t want to be apart from Joey. In fact, Gerard was starting to feel obsessed. He hated it, but still, he didn’t know how to stop.

Frank kept laughing like a kid as he and Joey sat at the hotel’s roof deck. He was drinking a beer and smoking while she finished her second ice cream.

- "Mikey Fucking Way"- she argued, frowning- "Because of him, I can’t stop thinking about getting ice cream."

- "You are so fucking high in sugar"- Frank added and grinned.

- "I know! It’s gonna be hell when I get my sugar hangover."

- "I can kiss your temples if that helps"- he answered and winked at her. The girl smiled and raised an eyebrow.

- "Why are you such a flirt with me, Frank Anthony?"

- "I am not a flirt!"- he answered, nearly insulted, but still chuckled after a few seconds as his friend stared at him right into the eyes.

- "Come on! We’ve been friends for a long while now. You are always such a flirt with me. Are you like this with all the girls?"

- "Define like this"- he answered with a lower voice and made his best to look as hot as fuck.

- "Just what you did, you are adorable and hot and cute and all innocent. Why are you like that?"

- "Why? You don’t like it?"

- "I love it, it’s so fucking funny and cute, like you. But sometimes it makes me wonder if you are like that with all the girls…"

- "Why?"

- "’Cause I know you are just my friend, and you can be as flirty as you want; I know it’s a game. But what if you do this with someone who doesn’t get it as I do… then what?"- Frank stayed quiet, looking at his friend. Then took a long drag from his cigarette.

- "What if I’m just a flirt with you?"

- "I surely doubt it"- Joey quickly answered, laughing- "I’ve seen you flirt with basically 99% of the girls we’ve met this tour. You just don’t notice it."

- "I haven’t!"

- "You do, Frank, that’s why I know you are harmless"- that frustrated the guitarist, though he knew he wasn’t going to get any with her anyway. She was his friend; he loved his wife. He just thought Joey was hot.

- "Tell you what, I like flirting with you ‘cos you are cute, and you don’t get nervous"- Iero simply confessed.

- "Of course, I don’t! You are my friend, and this is like…"

- "The nature of our friendship?"

- "You just read my mind, Jersey"- the two of them stayed quiet and smiled.

- "I would hit on you if I wasn’t married, though"- Joey burst out laughing at those words, but Frank just smiled- "I mean it."

- "I know."

- "If I wasn’t… and I did… do you think I’d stand a chance?"- the girl blushed and finished her ice cream.

- "I’d say you would if Gub wasn’t in the picture, of course. We could have gone out on a couple of dates, have fun."

- "And fuck like bunnies"- Frank added, and Joey hit his arm.

- "Dude, you are my friend. Friends don’t fuck."

- "What? So friends make love? besides, we are talking about an alternative universe that will never happen!"

- "Shut up!! You are gross!!"- Joey covered her face with both hands as she shook her head- "You are so fucking funny Jersey, I’m glad I met you."

- "I’m glad I met you too, Iceland. You should stay forever"- she smiled and nodded.

- "I’m not going anywhere today."

- "I mean, you should sign to be a member of the band, like… one of us."

- "One of the guys?"

- "Yeah"- she smiled and held his hand.

- "You are taking this relationship too fast. We’ve been together a few months. We haven’t even moved in together. I don’t think we are quite there yet."

- "You live on my fucking face, Iceland"- Frank laughed and pushed her- "Which reminds me, you have to do your fucking laundry."

- "Yeah… I swear I’ll do it in Spain, while you do all the press and I have the hotel all by myself."

- "You know, sometimes I hate you for that."

- "For not having to do any interviews?"

- "Yeah… I hate those things."

- "Why? 'cos you have to sit in front of a microphone for hours answering the same fucking questions, over and over again?"- she said, smiling.

- "Fuck you."

- "I’m sorry!!"- she laughed, and he grinned- "I bet press sucks, but it comes hand in hand with being a rockstar."

- "I hate that too"- he said and scratched his head, stubbing his cigar in an ashtray- "I just wanted to make music. I don’t know where everything else came from. Sometimes I wish I could stop it all and go home, be with my babies, with my wife."

Frank suddenly had gotten too serious and too deep, something Joey knew was like the comet Halley: it happened once in a lifetime around her.

- "Why don’t you stop?"- she innocently asked, mostly ‘cos she had thought about stopping herself.

- "I don’t know, it’s like… you somehow got trapped in this machine, and it won’t stop working, and if you take a step back, it all collapses…-" he looked at his hands as he spoke, but Joey held them and smiled.

- "I don’t think anything is gonna collapse if you stop doing tour after tour for a while"- she whispered- "There are more important things in life than concerts, you know."

- "Name one"- he said and looked into her eyes.

- "Your kids"

- "Nailed it"- and Joey burst out laughing- "It was too easy!"

- "Exactly, nothing is more important than the ones we love, so shut the fuck up and man up! ask for a break every once in a while, ‘cos this leg of the tour, I must say, has been misery for all of us."

- "I know!"- Frank gesticulated in the most Jersey Italian way that always made Joey laugh- "It’s been hell!"

- "The only good thing of it all, other than the money, I mean"- she said and chuckled- "It’s the fact I can call you my friend."

- "Awww, Iceland. You could have called me your friend from day one, even when I hated the guts out of you."

- "Why did you hate me, by the way?"

- "‘Cos I wanted to do you so bad I didn’t want you in the band"- Frank simply answered, and the drummer raised an eyebrow.

- "Are you joking?"- by her face, Iero could tell the comment hadn’t been the best he had done.

- "Of course, I am!!"- no, he wasn’t- "I just didn’t want to make a circus out of the fact you are a girl. I knew people would start making up stories, and Jamia would be nervous and jealous because of you… having a woman in the band back then meant a mess I didn’t want to deal with."

- "And why did you change your mind?"

- "Mikey forced me"- Joey nodded, and Frank smiled- "And Jamia was really into you from day one. She loved the idea of adding a girl into the tour ‘cos there weren’t enough women in rock… but mostly ‘cos I told her your boyfriend was the hot guy from Criminal Minds, and I swear, she nearly yelled. She wanted me to friend you so she could meet him."

- "I’m in this band ‘cos your wife thinks my soon to be husband is hot?"- and Frank nodded- "I owe Jamia more than I thought I would. Maybe I can send her a picture of Matthew naked"- Frank raised an eyebrow as Joey smiled- "You know she is gonna love those."

- "But he is so tall… he is gonna make me look bad"- he joked, and Joey laughed like she hadn’t laugh that whole day.

- "Of course, he is. But in your defense… he could make every single fucking man on earth look bad. Have you seen his feet?"

- "Joey!! Shut up!!!"

Matthew woke up on his bed, his head killing him and a complete blur of what his night had been. He just sat and scratched his head.

- “What time is it?... wait, how did I get home?... fuck!! What happened last night?!”

The young actor nearly jumped as he started to recap his birthday party. The cast from the movie had arranged a party in a local bar, he was really happy about it, though he almost declined it. He was tired, but his co-star convinced him it was a great idea to go out, get to know everybody a little better, and start his birthday celebration.

- "Oh fuck"- he grunted- "My fucking head is killing me…"- he reached out for his phone and found it on his nightstand. He had a few unread messages from Joey

- “I love you Akumu!”- he smiled right away- “Remember to leave a bottle of water by your bed to keep you hydrated”- and he had indeed left one there- “Save some birthday belated celebration for my comeback in a few days.”

- "Honey!"- his mother’s voice took him from his head as he looked at his bedroom’s door

- "Mom! What are you doing here?"

- "Happy birthday, honey!!"- he stood up and walked over to hug her immediately.

- "Mom! Thank you so much for coming!"

- "I had to come, I have to give you something"- the actor frowned- "This came into the mail for you a few weeks ago, but I had to wait until today to give it to you"

Mrs. Gubler smiled as she gave her son a box. It was completely hand-drawn with jako lanterns, cute skulls, ghosts, and hearts.

- "What is this?"

- "A present that you got from very far away, or so it seems."

Matthew grabbed the box and sat on his bed to open it. Inside, there was a letter from his fiancé, a couple of gorgeous kimonos, Japanese books, art, a few Halloween shirts, and unmatching socks. Matthew was speechless, staring at the box. It was amazing.

- "I can’t believe this"

- "Joey sent it when she reached London, and we agreed I would bring it to you today."

- "Thank you"- he moved over and gave her a hug.

- "Don’t thank me for coming over on your birthday, honey. I love you, thank the girl at the other side of the world who gathered everything you might love and shipped it to you on your special day"- she kissed his cheeks and stood up-" I’m gonna make you breakfast, and you are gonna take a shower ‘cos you stick, are you still drunk?"

- "No mom"

- "Then call your wife! And thank her for the presents!"

- "Yes, mom!"

Matthew grabbed his phone, smiling, and dialed Joey’s number. It rang once. It rang twice. He was about to give up and try later when the girl picked up and smiled at the other side of the screen.

- "Birthday boy!"

- "Baby! You are amazing!"- he quickly said and laid back on his bed- "I just got my presents."

- "Did your mom give you the box?! did you like it?"

- "Hell yeah! It’s amazing, thank you"

- "Did you like the kimonos?"

- "They are the softest!"

- "I know!! I was in shock! You can hang them in the kimono closet!! So when you get home, you can get naked, grab a kimono and just relax!"

- "Are you gonna be naked under your kimono too?"- the girl giggled nervously.

- "That’s very likely"

- "I like that idea. Where are you?"

- "Backstage warming up, we are playing at eight… did you just wake up?"

- "Yeah…"- he whispered and closed his eyes.

- "You were fucking wasted last night."

- "I thought you didn’t notice"- he answered, chuckling, still feeling uneasy about his wild night out. It felt off. Probably ‘cos he was way too hungover.

- "Matthew Gray Gubler, I’m gonna be your wife. I know when you are drunk, you can’t fool me even if you tried your best"- the actor laughed softly (laughing also hurt) and nodded at Joey- "Wait, the guys wanna say hello."

Matthew saw Mikey, Frank, and Ray appear and waved at the camera.

- "Happy birthday, dude!"- Ray said smiling- "How’s the hangover?"

- "Killing me!"

- "Save some liver for our party, man!"- Mikey said and waved too

- "Hope you have a great day!"- Frank added.

- "Thanks, guys!"- Matthew said and waved, yet his eyes were glued at Joey, who kept looking at him with a warm smile.

- "Where’s Gerard?"- Mikey asked and looked around. Gerard. Gubler frowned immediately. He hated him deeply, and he hated the fact Joey worked with him.

- "He was smoking outside"- Frank answered and waved again at the screen- "See you, Gubler!"

- "Bye guys!"- the band walked away, and Joey was now again all alone- "Hey, gorgeous"

- "Hey, wild party beast. What are you doing for the rest of your birthday?"

- "I’m not leaving this bed"- Joey laughed and looked at him in silence for a couple of minutes.

- "I’m gonna be in that bed with you in twelve days, can you believe that?"

- "I’ve waited so long it seems to be an eternity, but at the same time, it feels like it’s gonna be tomorrow."

- "I know exactly how you feel."

- "Honey! breakfast!"- Matthew’s mother yelled from the kitchen, making the young man laugh.

- "I am ten years old again, or was that just a strong flashback?"

- "Go eat, I’ll play a show, and I’ll call you from the hotel, ok?"- he nodded and smiled.

- "I love you so much, Yami."

- "I love you more, Matthew Gray “birthday boy” Gubler. Talk to you in a couple of hours."

The actor hung down and sighed. He felt happy to know he had her in his life. That she was gonna be his wife. As he thought about it, he started going through some of the pictures from the night before. He remembered half of it, but it felt like he had fun.

- "Fuck!!"- he shouted and wide opened his eyes.

Maybe a little too much fun.

Matthew stared at the screen in shock. There was a picture of him kissing two girls at the same time. Two. Girls. Kissing. Him. At. The. Same. Fucking. Time. And it didn’t help when he noticed, one of those girls was his ex-girlfriend.

- "Shit! Shit! Shit!"- he kept going through the party pictures, shots, laughter, his ex kissing him while they danced. Bunch of people, more people laughing, his ex and her friend kissing him again.

- "Fucking shit! What the fuck did I do?!"

Matthew’s heart was about to come out of his throat as he started deleting every single photo from his phone. Why were those there? Why did he do that? Who saw him? Where were those pictures now?

- "What the fuck did you do, mother fucker?! What else did you do?!"

Matthew couldn’t move. He just sat with the phone in his hands, thinking if he erased those pictures from his phone, it was like it never happened. But now it was in his mind, and he couldn’t stop the memories from coming back.

He was drunk and sad after talking with Joey. He had another shot and decided to go home, but his ex-girlfriend and one of her friends- part of the team of the movie he was filming- appeared and invited him to dance. Drunk Matthew didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea and joined them on the dancefloor. They danced, the girls started kissing. Gubler liked it and didn’t move away when they moved closer to him and started kissing with him too.

- "Oh fuck!!"- he wanted to kill himself.

But that wasn’t all. He wished it was, but it was all coming back now. His ex took him to the backroom.

- "No!"- Matthew yelled, widening his eyes- "No!"- he repeated, as his mother appeared running into his room.

- "Honey! What is it?! What happened?"

- "I fucked it up!"- he simply answered and didn’t move an inch

- "What are you talking about?"

- "Last night at the party… I ran into Annie, and she was with a friend and…"- the actor made a pause and scratched his head aggressively

- "Matthew?"

- "And they kissed me happy birthday…"

- "Matthew?"

- "And then… mom sorry, I can’t tell you this"- the young man tried to stand up, but his mother stopped him.

- "Matthew Gray Gubler, what did you do last night?"

- "I made out with them, and Annie gave me a blowjob"- he covered his face with both hands, embarrassed and regretful. He felt sick, dirty, gross. He felt like an animal, like everything he had always hated, like a man who cheated.

He cheated. And he wasn’t going to be able to undo it or even forget it.

Matthew broke into tears quietly at first, but his sobbing grew bigger, sadder, and more desperate. He hated himself, he needed to find a way to forget about what had happened, but he couldn’t. Instead, the memories kept coming; Annie kneeled in front of him.

- "Mom… I fucked it up."

- "Yes"- she simply replied- "You did, and Joey is gonna find out, no matter if you don’t tell her."

- "How do you know? Maybe no one saw us"- the actor was in denial and desperate to find anything that could keep him from dealing with the truth- I might have just dreamt the whole thing, maybe it never happened

- "Matthew?"

- "Maybe I can forget about it. If I don’t remember it, then it never happened."

- "Matthew"

- "Mom, I can’t tell her!"- he nearly shouted, nervous and grossed out by himself.

- "I didn’t raise a liar or a cheater"- the young man looked at his mother with watered-up eyes.

- "How am I supposed to tell her something like this? she is gonna hate me! She is gonna break up with me, mom. I know her."

- "You have to take responsibility for the things you’ve done, Matthew. You said you wanted to marry her. You can’t start that commitment with a lie."

- "She is gonna hate me… fuck, I hate me…"

- "Well, you brought it to yourself, Matthew Gray, so you have to fix it."

Gubler took a long shower and cried half of it. He couldn’t believe what he had gotten into. Or why. What had gotten into him to get so drunk ‘till the point of letting his ex-girlfriend give him a blow job? That wasn’t him. He remembered he felt bad after talking with Joey. He knew he couldn’t stop thinking she was touring with Gerard and hated him. What if he had tried to make his move on her? What if she fell for him? She wouldn’t. But what if she did? They had been apart for so long. No, he trusted her with his life. She would never do such a thing.

Then why had he done it?

Matthew honestly wanted to kill himself. That’s how guilty he felt. He knew Joey was never going to forgive him, and he was considering not ever telling her. She was never going to find out if he didn’t confess. Maybe he could take it to the grave.

Mikey hugged Joey goodnight and watched her walk to her room. Gerard looked at them from the other side of the hallway. The girl waved at him, and he waved back.

- "Hey! What are you doing?"- Mikey asked his brother as he lazily walked over him, weary after the show.

- "I just wanted to know if you wanna hang out. James and Frank are locked in their rooms already. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. I don’t feel like being on my own for a while"- Mikey nodded at Gerard.

- "Sure, man. Let me take a shower, and I’ll be right there."

Originally, Gerard wanted to drag Joey along with his brother, ‘cos it seemed like the only way to hang out with her. But she had disappeared way too fast to make his move.

The girl took a shower, put on her pajamas, and dialed Matthew’s number. He didn’t reply.

- "Hangover man has to be hanging out with his mom"- the girl thought out loud and grabbed a book to kill time. He was going to call when he was ready to talk.

Was he?

Matthew saw his cell phone right and froze. His hands shook when he reached out to answer, and that’s when he realized he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to be able to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her either. He was home alone. His mom was out, mainly to give him space to think and talk with Joey in private. But yet, Matthew didn’t know what to do or what to say.

- "Ok, she is the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with, and you are willing to do everything that’s in your power to keep her by your side"- he said and looked at his reflex in the mirror and then washed his face.

- "Akumu!"- Joey smiled as soon as he saw him- "How was breakfast?"

- "Chocolate chips hotcakes with a whipped cream smile on top, and lots of coffee."

- "Spoiled by your mother on your birthday, lucky man"- he smiled and felt a knot in his throat.

- “Fuck! this is going to be so hard!” And how was the show?"

- "It was good, not the finest though… we are all so fucking tired"- the girl laid on her bed and smiled at her boyfriend- "When I get home, I’m not leaving that bed Matthew Gray Gubler, I’m gonna spend every second there... sleeping."

- "I’m not planning on sleeping if you are in this bed"- he answered and felt his voice shake at the end of the sentence, guilt taking over him.

- "You are gonna have to let me sleep at least a day. I’m so fucking tired and jet-lagged all the time. This tour ruined my sleeping schedule"- Joey joked but frowned as she noticed her boyfriend had tears falling from his eyes- "Akumu, what is it? Are you ok? Why are you crying?"

- "‘Cos I miss you"- he simply answered- "I miss you so fucking much! Can we just get married when you get here? I’ll pick you up at the airport, drive us to the nearest church, and we just get married right away"- the girl sighed with watered-up eyes herself as she stared at Gubler sobbing.

- "I miss you too… and I can’t wait to marry you either."

- "Can you promise me you’ll always be with me? No matter what?"

- "Matthew, I swear I’ll always be by your side"- the girl felt broken-hearted by the emotion in her fiancé’s words. She had never seen him so sad before, was it because she wasn’t there on his birthday?- "That is the main reason why I wanna marry you dorky, ‘cos I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, in one eternal Halloween"- Matthew smiled at those words and wiped off his tears.

- "Sorry, I’m just a little emotional… ‘cos I miss you, and I need you here."

- "I’m sorry I couldn’t be there."

- "No, Yami, don’t be sorry. You are working! And you are so awesome and incredible. I swear I don’t deserve you."

Matthew kept trying to stop crying, but it was harder than he thought. He was feeling so guilty, so low, the worst human on earth. And the girl on the other side of the world was just telling him she thought he was the best man amongst them all.

- "Yes, you do! You are an incredible man, hangover boy! I should be the one telling you how amazing you are, it’s your birthday! I want to make you feel happy all the time, please don’t be sad!"

- "I just need to see your face to be happy today"- he answered without hesitation and sighed- "You know what?"

- "What?"

- "I’m gonna tour with you."

- "What?"- Joey frowned and looked at how Matthew sat correctly on his bed and fixed his hair.

- "Yes, I will. I hate this. I hate being apart from you this long. So next couple of months, I’m gonna follow you wherever you go."

- "You’d do that for me?"- the girl widened her eyes

- "Joey, I would do anything for you"- Matthew made sure to pronounce every word as slowly as possible as he looked at her eyes- "So I’ll schedule plane tickets to be with you."

- "And your work?"

- "You are more important than my job. I can’t be like this anymore, we are gonna finish the movie in two weeks, and after that, my only job will be to clap after every song you play"- Joey smiled, feeling her heart swell with love, as a few more tears fell from her eyes.

- "You are making me so happy."

- "My plans for as long as I live exactly."

Mikey and Gerard were laid watching tv. Mikey kept surfing channels while Gerard sipped his diet coke and scrolled down his Twitter timeline. Neither of them felt like talking, pretty much ‘cos they were tired, and after being so many weeks stuck together, there wasn’t much new to say.

- "Weird!"- Mikey chuckled as they caught a Criminal Minds episode and Matthew as Spencer Reid appeared on screen- "I never thought I’d friend this guy."

- "Why did you do that? he is an asshole"- Gerard simply answered and kept his eyes stuck on the phone.

- "He’s not an asshole. He is hilarious. You’d like him if you met him."

- "Not interested"- Mikey frowned and kept surfing channels- "Wow, I thought you were going to watch your boyfriend’s show."

- "Wow, very mature, Gerard."

- "Sorry"- the singer knew he had crossed the line, mostly ‘cos he shouldn’t show how much he hated Matthew because…

- "Why do you hate him so much?"- because Mikey could start asking questions, and he didn’t want to talk.

- "I don’t hate him. He is not my friend, which is very different."

- "And Joey is not your friend either"- Mikey added- "You never talk to her."

- "She never talks to me"- Gerard added, and his voice betrayed him, showing some bitterness in his words.

- "Well, maybe because you didn’t want her in the band."

- "It’s been months. Get over it."

- "Now that I think about it, you are not even close to her at all…"

- "You are way too close to her, close enough for the two of us"- Gerard spit those words, still not looking at his brother.

- "What? Are you jealous or something?"

- "No!"- he snorted- "Why? Should I?"

- "I don’t know. You are being an asshole."

- "I’m just tired…"- Gerard came up with the worst excuse ever

- "Ok, if you are tired, I’ll leave you to sleep, dude, you are not what I call a pleasure to hang out with anyway"- Mikey stood up and walked to the door- "See you tomorrow at the plane."

Mikey left the room, and Gerard groaned, annoyed. He grabbed the remote control and surfed the channels until he found Criminal Minds again. He just wanted to see Matthew’s face to hate him even more.

- "What’s so special about this asshole? He is just a pretty boy, no talent, definitely no acting skills… He is tall. That’s all he has in his favor"- Gerard was arguing with the television out loud.

- "I mean… it’s clear he is not as smart as his character, and he ain’t funny either, shit! I bet he hasn’t done anything but this stupid tv show and those 3 minutes in the Wes Anderson movie."

Gerard opened google and searched for information about Matthew Gray Gubler, just to make sure he was a loser. He hated to know he wasn’t, though Gerard thought everything he had done had been pathetic so far. Everything but proposing Joey. And that was what Gerard hated the most. It was sick, and he knew it, that obsession he had about that girl, the one he couldn’t have. He just couldn’t take the idea of being with her out of his mind. Why? Was it because obviously, she didn’t want him? Many girls hadn’t wanted him before. Why was this one killing him slowly?

- "Oh fuck!"- Gerard nearly shook with his coke when he saw a picture of Matthew’s birthday- "Oh man!! I knew you were too good for my girl!!"- Gerard wanted to jump when he saw a picture of Matthew making out with a girl and the comment: “Matthew Gray Gubler birthday, 2011”.

- "You are going down!!"

::: Munich, March 10th, 2011 :::

Ray and Joey walked out of a Krispy Kremes at the airport, waiting for their flight to Valencia, holding a huge box of freshly made donuts. Joey was in heaven, and Ray was laughing at how excited she was about coffee and sugar.

- "Touring with you and Mikey together has been the best training to be a dad one day"- the guitarist said, chuckling.

- "Are you planning on having babies, dad?"

- "Yeah, it’s something me and Christa have talked about a few times. I want to wait until life gets a little bit less… messy ‘cos I wanna be with her the whole way and enjoy our babies."

- "Oh, dad, you are so cute"- the girl pout and punched his arm- "I want babies too, but I don’t think it will happen soon."

- "Why?"

- "Well, ‘cos I guess I want to wait until I have a steady job first."

- "And what is this for you?"- Toro gesticulated.

- "I’m your drummer for the tour Ray. The tour will end at some point, though it seems endless right now, and I will have to look for another job. And what if I get another tour drummer job? I’m gonna have to travel again. When am I going to be home with my husband to make and raise a baby?"

- "Well… after the tour you could be our studio drummer too, and you can stay in Los Angeles with Matthew and start making babies"- the girl chuckled at those words, though she liked the idea- "You should name your firstborn Ray though, I’ll put that in the contract"- both of them laughed and reached their gate.

- "Kids! Sugar!"- Joey’s smile shone as she gave Frank and Mikey the donuts box.

Gerard looked at her and sighed, thinking he wanted to tell her what he knew about Matthew, but it hurt him to know how much damage it was going to mean for her

- "Hey, Gerard!"- she snapped her fingers in front of him- "This one has your name on it. I figured you’d like a cappuccino cream donut."

- "Thank you"- he felt his cheeks blushing as he held the donut and smiled at Joey- "Sugar low?"

- "Yeah, my body needs some fuel to work until we reach the next hotel, and I can sleep some more."

- "Why? You didn’t sleep well last night?"- Gerard bit his donut and stared at Joey’s cheek turning red.

- "No, I stayed up talking with Matthew until three am."

- "Wow… really? Everything ok?"- Gerard’s heart beat a little faster with those words. She wouldn’t be so happy if she knew what Gubler was doing behind her back. Or did she not care? No, it was more likely she had no idea.

- "Yeah, we just miss each other a lot, and it was his birthday. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, even on FaceTime."

- "His birthday!"- Gerard nodded- "Right, so he didn’t party or whatever?“Smooth dude, good”

- "He did, the night before with some friends from work, he was kind of hungover"- Joey smiled again- "So last night was our moment to celebrate."

- "Dude, please. I don’t wanna picture you and Matthew having phone sex"- Frankie showed up and grabbed Joey’s coffee- "I mean, you, that I can imagine, but him… not so much."

- "Jersey!!"- the girl frowned and smacked him.

- "What?!"

- "Stop being disgusting!"- he chuckled, and she took her coffee back from his hands

- "We all knew what you meant when you said you “stayed up talking with Matthew until three am”- Iero air quoted and laughed again- "We’ve all been there, I’ve been there like three times in the latest weeks."

- "Come on!!!"- Joey smacked him again and walked away. Frank kept laughing for a few seconds and finished his donut.

- "Hey guys, come closer"- Gerard whispered as he noticed Joey had walked away, probably to the bathroom- "I need to tell you something."

- "What?"- Mikey raised an eyebrow as he moved closer ‘cos his brother had whispered.

- "Last night, I was on Twitter, and this picture of Gubler appeared… he… he cheated on Joey at his birthday party."

Gerard had prepared the speech to make sure no one would ever know he had been looking for information about Gubler and saved the picture as proof.

- "What the fuck?"- Mikey grabbed the phone from his brother’s hand and took a look at the picture.

- "Are you sure that’s him?"- Ray moved closer and took a long look at the picture.

- "Yeah! It’s him! He cheated on the party Joey told us he had with his friends"- Mikey was in shock. He walked away and closed his eyes, thinking about Joey and how she would take the news. Frank was so mad. He wanted to kill that guy. He also walked away and murmured curses for a minute straight. Ray couldn’t believe it, and his only concern at the moment was:

- "We have to tell her"

- "How can we tell her that?!"- Mikey pointed at the phone- "We are gonna break her!"

- "He broke her!"- Gerard argued- "He is the one who fucked it up! We are her friends, and we have to let her know what’s going on"- the band stayed quiet, neither of them knowing what to say.

- "Hey kids!"- Joey appeared suddenly smiling- "Why did you all get all serious? Did something happen?"

- "Yeah"- Gerard said, and Frank quickly interrupted him.

- "I ate the last donut and didn’t share it"- the girl raised an eyebrow.

- "Bullshit."

- "No, Gerard wanted it, and it seems I tend to hoard all the sweets…"- Joey frowned at that nonsense.

- "You do"- Mikey supported his lie flawlessly- "You always eat more than us!"

- "Ok… sure…"- Joey walked to a chair and looked at her phone. Mikey turned to his brother and punched his arm.

- "Not here! Don’t be an asshole! We wait until we are in the hotel! You can’t do this in public!"- Gerard felt like an ass. His brother was right. He was so desperate to end that relationship he wasn’t thinking straight.

He wanted to end a relationship that wasn’t even his. What had he turned into? A cold-blooded asshole who craved a girl so much, he was willing to ruin her life to get a chance to be with her?

Mikey was playing with his fingers nonstop. He just wanted to get out of the plane and avoid Joey for a long while. He was thankful the girl was sound asleep next to him ‘cos he knew he wouldn’t be able to pretend things were cool and peachy. Mikey knew he was a lousy liar. He wasn’t going to act like everything was good.

- "Hey"- Frank waved and pointed to the back of the plane. Mikey stood up and followed him, there Ray and Gerard were waiting for them.

- "What is it?"

- "We have to talk about what happened. When are we going to tell her?"- Gerard said, and the four of them looked at each other in silence for a few seconds- "I know it’s crap, but we can’t leave her in the dark about it… can we?"

- "No man"- Frank said and took a look around, scared the girl might see or hear them- "But… she is gonna be a mess, and I don’t wanna feel like we did this to her."

- "He did this to her"- Gerard quickly replied- "This whole shit is his fault."

- "Gubler should tell her"- Iero added. He didn’t feel like he could do such harm to her friend. He was going to harm Gubler, but not Joey.

- "He won’t do that, Frank"- Ray said- "But… I don’t want to be a cold bitch here, but we’ve got the Valencia show in two days, and that shit will be televised… if we tell her… and she wants to leave…"

- "Dude, we can’t wait that long"- Gerard interrupted him.

- "Why not?"- Ray asked, and Way didn’t reply. His honest answer was: “Because I wanna hold her tight and tell her “everything is gonna be ok” as soon as possible. And I also want to ruin Matthew’s life in the shortest notice”.

- "Because if she finds out that we knew and we didn’t tell her, we are gonna pay. She is gonna think we betrayed her"- Mikey answered instead of Gerard, ‘cos he had a reasonable answer.

- "You are right"- Ray nodded- "And that would be hell"- the four of them nodded.

- "So? Tonight?"- Frank asked- "We should get her something…"

- "Like what? Flowers?"- Gerard asked, confused.

- "Like alcohol, chocolate, chick flicks"- Mikey frowned at his brother- "So you never helped a friend when her boyfriend dumped her?"- and Gerard stayed still- "Wow, you can’t cease to amaze me."

- "I didn’t have many girlfriends back in the days"- Gerard explained.

- "Whatever…"

- "Ok, so after dinner, we go to her room"- Frank finished, and they all accepted- "Ok, now let me go to the bathroom ‘cos I need to take a piss, come on, move it."

Ray looked around his room and sighed. He had called Christa and told her what was going on. He felt responsible for Joey’s wellbeing, and at that moment, he was scared of what would happen. His wife was in shock. She couldn’t believe Matthew had done such a thing. She even doubted it was real.

- "Are you sure that the picture isn’t photoshopped?"

- "Yeah!"

- "Really?"- Ray doubted

- "Well, it looked very real to me"

- "Why don’t you ask him?"

- "Yes, honey! He is going to come clean right away!"

- "I mean it, baby! Maybe it wasn’t a party, maybe it was a scene from his coming up film out of context, maybe it was a bad angle."

- "Christa, the tongue of two women were liking him at the very same time unless he is doing porn, there is no way that’s from his upcoming movie!"- Ray made a point, and his wife’s silence made it clear. Now he was walking in circles, trying to set his mind straight. He had never done this before, and shit, he didn’t want to.

The guitarist grabbed the Pride and Prejudice blu ray he had gotten that afternoon and sighed. It was time. He walked out to the hall and into the elevator. Just outside of Joey’s room, he bumped into Mikey and Frank. One held a paper bag with some chocolates and candies, and the other, a whiskey bottle. Of course, the whiskey guy was Iero.

- "Should we wait for Gerard?"- Ray asked

- "Nah"- Frank knocked and waited- "He is always late."

- "And you are always so on time"- Mikey joked and chuckled.

- "Hey! Ready for that movie?"- Joey opened the door smiling- "Say hello to Matthew!!"- the girl flipped her phone, and her boyfriend waved at the band.

- "Hey guys"- but neither of them smiled at him.

- "We are gonna watch a movie"- Joey turned and walked back- "I’ll call you in a while, ok?"

- "Sure, Yami. I love you so much!"

- "I love you more!"

- "Have fun"- Joey hung down and looked at her friends, narrowing her eyes, upset- "What the fuck is your problem?"

- "Bug, we need to talk"- the knock on the door interrupted Mikey, but Frank walked over quickly and opened it.

- "We are starting. What did you bring?"- Gerard frowns at that questions

- "You weren’t kidding? We had to bring something? Like a birthday party?"

- "Shit, you are an asshole"- Frank just shook his head.

- "Mikey, Ray? What is it?"- the girl sat on her bed, leg crossed, as Mikey sat next to her and held her hand.

- "Turns out we’ve got some news for you."

- "Am I fired?"- she wide opened her eyes in shock- "I am, right? Fuck I knew this was gonna happen eventually."

- "No, Bug, you are not fired"- Ray sat next to Mikey and smiled- "We are more than happy to have you here, and we would love to have you with us forever."

- "Yeah, Iceland, you are one of us now. Deal with the fact you are doomed"- Frank said and moved closer to the girl to mess with her hair.

- "Then?"- she asked and looked at the four worried faces in front of her- "What is it? ‘Cos it seems serious."

None of them knew how to say it, though each of them had practiced it in front of the mirror. And Gerard, the one who was anxious to say it, suddenly felt the remorse of being the one to break it on Joey’s face. He knew it had to happen, though. That didn’t make it less sad.

- "Joey, last night I found this picture of Gubler’s birthday party on Twitter"- the singer simply said and gave her his phone.

Mikey closed his eyes, and Frank looked down. Neither of them was able to face the girl at the moment. Joey just stared at the screen in silence for at least a minute, holding her breath. There he was, Matthew. Cheating. What she thought was impossible happened. And the most profound pain she could feel took over her body second by second.

Her world fell down. She couldn’t believe it. Matthew was kissing his ex-girlfriend. She recognized her right away, the other girl, she had no idea who she was.

He betrayed her trust. He destroyed her heart, she could feel it breaking inside her chest, with deep aching pain, and it didn’t let her breathe. She wanted everybody out of the room to cry alone. She wanted to smash Gerard’s phone against the wall. And most of all, she wanted to find an explanation, maybe an excuse for that fucking image. It was to be a lie. Matthew would never do that. Never. Thoughts kept rolling down her head. It was a lie. It had to be. Maybe a fan photoshopped it. Perhaps it was old. Maybe it wasn’t Gubs, just a lookalike.

- "Joey…"- Mikey whispered- "Are you ok?"

- "Is that the only picture you saw?"- the girl asked with a cold tone in her voice.

- "No"- Gerard murmured and frowned as he noticed the lack of emotion in Joey’s face

- "Can you send me the pictures, please?"- her voice was turning shaky while she made an effort to stay calm.

Joey hated to cry, and overall, she hated to cry in front of people. She hated when people pitied her, and at the moment, it was all she was feeling coming from her friends. Pity.

-  "Bug, it is ok to be sad"- Mikey said and held her hand tight.

- "I’m not sad, I’m mad"- her eyes were filled with tears she refused to cry. Her jaws felt tight. She didn’t even want to talk anymore.

- "Hey, we are here- Ray kneeled in front of Joey and tucked away some of her hair that was falling on her face. He kept his brown eyes in hers, locked, trying to read her reaction. He realized how much she was trying to hold back. He knew his friend pretty well, and he could tell how embarrassed she was to share this with everybody. So he whispered:

- "Joey, do you want to be alone for a little while?"- and she quickly nodded, biting the inside of her cheeks.

- "Dude, we can’t leave her alone!"- Gerard immediately said and hit his friend’s arm. But Ray didn’t leave Joey’s eyes, not even for a second, and she did the same.

- "No, she is going to be ok, we are going to leave her alone for a while, and I am going to take her key, is that ok, Joey?"- the girl nodded again- "Ok, so I’ll take your key. I’ll come back in an hour to see if you need anything, ok?"

Joey couldn’t even say a word, so she nodded one last time and looked at Ray stand up.

- "Dude? What the fuck?"- Gerard was in shock, but Mikey understood immediately what Ray was doing.

- "I love you"- the youngest Way whispered and kissed Joey’s cheek. She got even tenser at his touch. She felt she was going to break into tears if anyone else touched her. So she refused to hug anybody.

- "Bug, if you need a drink, I left your favorite whiskey on the table… I’ll stop by later to have a shot with you, ok?"- Frank whispered and cut her a short smile. She nodded and watched them walk away. Gerard didn’t want to move, he took a few steps closer and opened his arms, but Joey quickly moved from him and frowned, like a frightened cat trying to escape from everything and everybody.

- "Gerard, leave her, she is ok"- Ray grabbed Gerard’s arm and pushed him- "I’ll come back in an hour, Bug"- the girl watched them walking to the door, Gerard kept looking back at her, concerned and scared she wasn’t going to be ok on her own.

- "Dude, this is wrong"- he argued the second they closed the door- "We can’t leave her there! It’s not safe!"- and just then, Joey’s yells crying froze the four of them- "Give me the key!"- Gerard argued and tried to take it from Ray’s pocket.

- "No! She needs to be on her own! She needs to cry, and she is never going to cry in front of us!"

- "What the fuck do you know?"- the singer questioned obfuscated.

- "Calm down, Gee. Ray is right"- Mikey said and sighed- "Joey needs to be alone, she ain’t going to kill herself, she just needs to yell and cry, and probably call that mother fucker and break up with him."

- "Yeah, come on"- Frank tapped on Gerard’s back and started walking- "Let’s get a beer, smoke a cigarette, and we can come back in a while. Ray has the key, so we know she won’t lock herself alone."

Gerard hated his friends at that moment. He had to be there for her, hold her, kiss her, console her. What the fuck was he doing with those guys? She needed him. He had to be with her. Why were they doing this?

- "So you don’t care?"- Gerard squabbled, and Mikey simply sighed.

- "You don’t know how she is like…"- and his brother’s words were enough to insult Gerard and shut him up.

Joey was on her knees on the floor, crying. Gasping for air every few seconds and feeling how every tear in her body came out at the same time. There was a void in her chest, right where it used to be her heart. Matthew Gray Gubler broke her heart. He broke her. All the fears she had locked inside ‘cos Matthew made her trust were now out again, and a voice in the back of her head kept telling her, “You knew this was going to happen if you were stupid enough to trust someone.”

But he was so good for her. How could he do that? Was it something she had done? Was it because she wasn’t there? You can’t be stuck with somebody to keep them from cheating. You don’t cheat. If you are not happy, you break up.

Joey felt sick in her stomach and had to rush to the bathroom. She puked crying, she couldn’t stop doing either of them. She kept choking with tears as she vomited. Until it was done. She flushed and stayed there, on the bathroom floor, crying and shaking in sadness. In fear. In disappointment.

What was she going to do? She had to break up with him. She couldn’t marry a cheater, and she wasn’t going to trust him ever again. Two fucking girls at the same time. What if he had done it before and got caught just now? For how long had he been doing that? What if she was seeing other girls regularly?

- "I knew this was going to happen. You don’t date a guy like that and expect him to be faithful…"- the girl whispered to herself, weeping- "He had nothing to do with a girl like me. Take a look at yourself, you dumb slut!"

Joey never said it out loud. She never let herself think about it. She refused to accept the fact she was weak. She had always hated herself. She felt she wasn’t worthy of anything good. All the years in the orphanage had left more than scars on her skin. They were also in her mind. You don’t spend years watching kids leaving with families and don’t convince yourself you are not good enough to be picked, to be happy. And when a family picks you up, you think it’s not you. It’s pity.

Sure, you can cover it up. You can be serious. You can stay away emotionally from people. You can find shelter in music and hide from the world in it. You can kick people’s ass when they hurt you or insult you. You can lie and say you are not “a people person,” whatever that means. But none of that can erase the fact that you feel alone, unwanted. Worthless.

- "I wanna call this mother fucker and fucking yell at him the kind of scumbag he is!!"- Frank said as he lit another cigarette and took a look at his watch- "She has been alone for half an hour, do you think she is ok?"

- "Of course, she is not ok, but she has to handle it. She is a grown woman"- Ray answered and sipped his beer.

- "I can’t believe he did this to her"- Mikey whispered- "She, of all the women I’ve known, doesn’t deserve to be treated like this."

A few tears filled his eyes, and he quickly wiped them off, lighting a cigarette too.

- "I’m gonna kill him, as soon as we get home, I’m gonna kill this mother fucker. I’ve got his fucking address, I’m gonna get there, and fucking break every bone in his body with my own hands"- Mikey was losing his cool. He stood up and walked around the hotel’s terrace, and looked at the city lighten in front of him. Frank stared at his friends and stood up too.

- "I’m with you, but we can’t be like this in front of her."

- "I know"- Mikey scratched his head and smoked in silence for a few seconds- "I’m not doing press tomorrow,"- he announced- "I’m staying with her all day long."

- "You can’t just…"- but Gerard’s words were lost in the air knowing his brother wasn’t asking, he was letting them know what he was doing.

- "Maybe we could take turns"- Frankie thought out loud- "You stay with her in the morning, Ray stays with her after lunch, and so on"- they all nodded. Gerard felt excited there was a chance he was going to get time alone with her.

- "Let’s see if she approves it first"- Ray said, and Mikey smiled for a second. He could picture Joey arguing she was ok, and him simply just staying with her, not taking no for an answer. She was going to be pissed.

- "Can we please check on her?"- Gerard tried to ask, but in real life, it sounded like he was begging- "I’m worried"- Ray sighed and took a look at his clock

- "Thirty more minutes"

- "Why at the hour?"- the eldest Way questioned

- "‘Cos she has to put her shit together before we come back, and she knows we’ll come back in an hour."

Joey walked around her room, holding a glass of whiskey. Her third glass of whiskey. Her phone was in her hand, and her finger was about to push “dial.”

- "You can do this"- she said to herself. She had cleaned her face, wiped off all the tears, combed her hair, and taken a long time calming herself down. More than anything, she didn’t want Matthew to see her cry. She couldn’t show any weakness to him.

She knew she would never be fully ready to do this, but if not now, when? So she dialed.

- "Hey Yami!! How’s the movie? Is it over yet?"- Matthew’s face filled the screen, and Joey needed a few seconds to put herself together again. His face was too much to handle. She still loved him too much to see him after what had just happened. Maybe FaceTime hadn’t been the best idea.

- "You cheated on me"- she managed to say. Matthew’s heart stopped- "It’s all over Twitter!!! You fucking cheated on me, and you just pretended it was all perfect??!"

Gubler sat on his couch and looked at his mom, who was next to him, reading. She slowly stood up and walked to the other room. He kept his eyes on Joey’s face and held his breath. Why did he think he could hide it from her? Now, what was he going to say? Was he going to deny it? Could he?

- "Yami, I..."

- "Don’t fucking Yami me, Matt"- she spit the last word with disdain, ‘cos she knew how much he hated being called that way- "You lied, you cheated, and you ruined everything!"

- "Joey, please, listen to me"- the young man stood up and started walking around the room, not knowing what to do or what to say.

- "What should I listen to? Do you think you can talk your way out of this?"- Matthew brushed his hand on his face and scratched his hair, confused and scared.

- "Joey, listen, I was drunk. It didn’t mean anything."

- "What? So being drunk is the perfect excuse for me to accept the fact your ex-girlfriend’s tongue was down your throat, and with another girl too? What the fuck?!"

- "Joey, it didn’t mean anything! It was a mistake!"

- "A “mistake”? How many “mistakes” have you made ever since I left? Tell me."

- "Please, Joey, listen to me. I was drunk, they started dancing, and they kissed me and…"

- "And you fucking took them home and fucked the two of them at the fucking same time. I can picture that very clear, the same fucking bed you said you wanted me to be in."

- "Joey! No!! That’s not what happened!"

- "Then enlighten me, Matthew. Tell me, what the fuck happened?"

Gubler sighed and bit his lips. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew he had to. She was going to find out the truth one way or another. Maybe if he came clean with her, she would understand. He loved her. She knew that. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, but it didn’t mean a thing, anything at all.

- "We were at the party, and you called… we talked, and I decided to go home."

- "Sure"- she interrupted sarcastically.

- "Listen, I wanted to go home ‘cos I missed you, but Mark found me and got me a couple of drinks. I was super drunk already when Ann appeared."

- "So you had invited her?"

- "No! No way! I had no idea she was there!"

- "But you got thrilled to see her."

- "I didn’t care! Joey, please, believe me. I was just drunk and stupid, but it didn’t mean a thing!"

- "You fucked her!!"

- "I didn’t fuck neither of them!"

- "There are pictures!! Pictures of you and her and… you were leaving together"

- "We didn’t fuck! Joey, I swear!!"

- "Sorry, but I can’t believe you! I can’t believe a word that’s coming from your lips!"

- "Joey, Yami, baby, love… I swear, I didn’t fuck with them"

- "Then what happened?"

Joey was severe and cold. She had managed not to cry so far, and that made her feel proud. She was devastated and nearly suicidal inside, but she wasn’t going to give Matthew the pleasure of seeing her destroyed because of him. Not that day.

- "Joey… nothing happened."

- "Matthew, if you are going to lie, and I discover that you did…"

- "Ann took me to the back room and decided she wanted to give me a birthday present, so she..." - Joey closed her eyes and threw the phone to the bed.

- "Hijo de la gran puta!! (son of a bitch!!)"- she managed to yell, losing it for a second.

- "It was just a blowjob. Nothing else happened, I swear, Joey! and I stopped her!"- Matthew broke in tears as Joey walked around the room, poured herself another whiskey, and looked at the phone still on her bed.

- "Just a blowjob??! Just a blowjob, Matthew?? Do you fucking believe that shit??"

- "Joey, it meant nothing!!! I didn’t want to do it!!"

- "Bullshit!!"- Joey grabbed the phone again and cut him a look so full of hate Matthew knew he was losing her second by second.

- "Yami, please, I hate myself too, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to undo this!! I was too drunk! I thought it was you, and when I saw her, I stopped it"- Joey scoffed and bit her lips to stop the tears- "I regret everything that happened, it was stupid, and it meant nothing, I fucking love you, Joey, you are my bride! you are my love and my whole life!"

- "No"- she quickly replied.

- "Joey, please."

- "No, Matthew. I am not your bride, and I am not your life, not anymore. I am merely the girl you fucking broke and lied to."

- "Please, please try to understand, it wasn’t me, it was a mistake! I didn’t mean it!!"

- "But it happened, Matthew, and that’s it. You can’t undo it."

- "Please, please! you have to forgive me."

- "Why should I forgive you, Matthew? ‘Cos I love you? Is that enough?"- the girl stopped talking, ‘cos her eyes were filled with tears, and she was still making her best not to cry in front of him. But it was getting too hard. Nearly impossible.

- "Joey, please don’t leave me"- the boy begged, his voice as a whisper at the other side of the line. He was crying like a baby, sobbing and walking around his house, not knowing what to do- "Yami, I need you"- every word that came from his lips cracked each of her already shattered heart into another tiny piece.

- "You should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you?"- the girl answered coldly- "You know how much it took me to trust you, Matthew, how much it took me to give you my heart, to you, for the very fucking first time in my life."

- "Please, please… give me another chance…"- he was sobbing, and Joey couldn’t hold it anymore. She broke into tears in front of him as well.

He looked at her, still thinking there was a chance she could forgive him. He didn’t mean to hurt her. It was a mistake. He loved her. She knew it. What did he have to do to change her mind? To keep her by his side.

- "No"- Joey answered, whimpering- "There are no second chances, Matthew."

- "Please, Joey, I am so so so sorry!"

- "Being sorry doesn’t fix anything."

- "I love you"

- "You didn’t care about that when she sucked your dick, did you?"- Joey managed to say, drying the tears from her eyes- "You just fucking enjoyed it, and fucked with my feelings, ‘cos I wasn’t supposed to know."

- "I love you so much"

- "So what?"- she simply answered- "So I should forgive you ‘cos you love me?"

- "I’d do anything for you."

- "You should have started by not cheating."

Joey took a deep breath and looked at Gubler sobbing at the other side of the line, desperate, honestly desperate

- "Bye, Matthew."

- "No, Joey! Wait! Don’t!"

But that was all Joey could handle. She threw the phone back to her bed and fell on the floor, crying her eyes out again. It was too much for her; she wasn’t going to make this alive. Joey loved him so much, but Matthew had damaged her to the edge of sanity. She was proud she had managed the situation mostly cold-headed. She wanted him. She wanted to forgive him so badly. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t going to believe him ever again.

- "Bug?"- Ray opened the door and found her lying on the bed. Mikey ran to her and held her. She wasn’t crying anymore. She looked in shock. He almost broke into tears next to her, not knowing what to do. She merely blinked. She wasn’t talking. She just laid there, curl up, almost lifeless. Barely alive.

Mikey hugged her tight, lying next to her, trying to keep her warm, ‘cos she kept shaking. Frank wiped off the tears from his eyes as he turned around and poured himself a whiskey.

Gerard looked at the scene from a safe distance while Ray tried to talk to Joey, and Frank started drinking, trying not to show how insanely angry he was. Gerard felt like shit. He didn’t think it would affect him so much. But suddenly, he was feeling guilty. Honestly and deeply guilty. He was the one who found out. He was the one who was eager to tell her. He was the one who told her. And an hour ago, he was excited about it, ‘cos it meant she wasn’t going to be with Matthew anymore. But he was so selfish he never stopped himself from thinking what was going to happen to her. How it was going to affect her. And Gerard felt now like a monster.

- "I’m ok kids"- Joey whispered and cut Ray a slight smile- "I’m just tired."

- "Do you want something to eat?"- he asked, but she shook her head- "I’m gonna leave these chocolates here, ok?"

- "Thank you…"- Mikey kissed the top of her head and snuggled her closer. Her phone kept ringing on the floor. Frank quickly grabbed it. It already had five missing calls from Matthew.

- "This mother fucker is gonna…"

- "Please don’t"- but Joey’s words were useless, Frank picked up, ignoring her.

- "Joey!"- Gubler yelled at the other side of the line.

- "Don’t you fucking dare calling her again!!"- Frank yelled with hate- "You are not getting close to her. You are not talking to her. You are dead! Heard me? You are dead to her, and if you fucking get close to her, I am gonna fucking kill you, heard me? I’m gonna kill you!!"

Frank didn’t even let him reply. He hung down and turned off the phone.

- "Why did you do that?"- Joey whispered and took a deep breath.

- "I’m not gonna let that guy hurt you again"- Frank murmured as he kneeled by the bed and kissed her temple sweetly- "Never, I’m not gonna let him make you cry or break your heart again, ok?"

Frank’s words were so full of honesty and emotion, even his voice shook. Tears fell from his eyes, and Joey stared at him in shock. He cared that much for her. It was shocking to realize how much they all cared for her.

- "Thank you, Frank"- he smiled

- "Hey, whatever you need"- he smiled shyly- "Now make room"- the girl and Mikey moved, as Frank crawled on the bed next to her. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head as Mikey laid at the other side of her, still cuddling her.

Gerard stared at the scene and wondered how they could just do that, it was what he wanted to do, but he could not move from where he was standing.

- "Wanna watch a movie?"- Ray grabbed the remote control- "Let’s see what we can find"- he knew Pride and Prejudice wasn’t right for the moment, so he tried to find the most random movie he could in pay per view. Die Hard was the chosen one. He and Gerard laid on the bed with the others and didn’t say another word. The girl wanted to be alone, but she knew they weren’t going to let her. It felt good in a way, knowing they cared about her and wanted to be with her at that dark moment.

Matthew was crying, sitting on his bed. He didn’t seem to be able to stop the tears from falling. He held the phone and dialed over and over again. It was off. The wedding was off. His whole life was off at that point. He had made the biggest mistake, and now he knew he couldn’t fix it. But he had to. He wanted to.

- "Yami, please, I’m so sorry"- he talked with her voicemail- "I need you to forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to, it was a mistake"- the call ended, he dialed again- "Yami, I can’t live without you, I can’t, I swear, please, I’m so sorry, I’d do anything you want, anything, but please, please"- the call ended, he dialed again- "Please… Joey, I love you so much, I need you so much, I..."

- "Honey"- his mother whispered as she walked into his room and found him weeping on the phone.

- "She left me, mom"- he whispered and felt her arms around him- "She broke up with me"- he couldn’t say another word ‘cos the tears, and the sobbing didn’t let him talk. His mother kissed his temple and hugged him tightly.

- "You are gonna fix this, baby. It’s gonna be ok."

- "How?"- he managed to murmur.

- "She loves you so much, she is going to forgive you. I know she will."

- "I hurt her mom. She doesn’t deserve this... I don’t deserve her… she is an angel, and I ruined it"- Matthew couldn’t say another word. He just hid his head on his mother’s neck and cried.

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@all-tings-diego @worryd0ll

[emilia3546]

Reflections - Nessian NSFW

Nesta has no idea why Cassian bothered to buy a new, floor-length, mirror, but once she figures it out, she can't get her mind off it.

*****

Nesta hadn't given the new mirror that Cassian had bought a few days ago much thought, until now. Full-length, plenty of empty space in front of it, she hadn't thought anything of it, not even at Cassian's undisguised glee when he'd come home with it, assuming it was just some stupid joke, but days later the mirror was still there. She'd only thought about it yesterday morning when he whispered to her,

"Want to know what it's for? What it's really for?" Nesta had nodded, slightly confused, but realized at once at the gleeful look in his eyes,

"You want to fuck me in front of a mirror?"

"I want you to watch me fucking you in the mirror." She'd flushed bright red at that, but Cassian had already slipped outside, raising an eyebrow at her before disappearing to training. Still, Nesta hadn't been able to shake that idea, he hadn't mentioned it since, and even with her book, it was like the mirror was watching her, but that was ridiculous. She glared at it, slamming her book closed, and Cassian chuckled from beside her, clearly happy to escape his book, well, the book she had practically forced him to read.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Stop it, stop looking at me like that," she hissed, opening her book again, but gave up after reading the same sentence at least three times,

"Something distracting you?" Cassian grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes,

"I hate you."

"We both know that's not true," he laughed, and Nesta glowered at him,

"It is," she insisted, but yelped when he moved faster than she could register, flipping her underneath him,

"Then how come I'm the only one who gets to have you like this?"

"I don't know what you mean,"  she managed, but gasped and dropped her head backwards when he pushed her nightgown up, his hand so close to her sex, but staying just too far from it. She squeezed her eyes shut, this was what he wanted, and she wasn't going to lose, so she lifted her head again, "Who says that you're the only one?" She almost missed him move again, only noticing once his hand had curled around her throat. Her words died on her tongue, and she automatically grabbed at his wrist, not bothering to try to dislodge him, just ready to warn him if whatever he did was to much for her.

"I'm sorry?" The opportunity was too good to miss, even if his tone was dangerously low, even if the sensible thing would be to apologize, to save herself a punishment, she smirked as she spoke,

"That's okay, you're forgiven." She had underestimated him, underestimated how quickly he was going to react tonight, no sooner had the words left her mouth than Cassian's grip on her throat tightened. She could, of course, still breathe, but the lack of blood flow left her head roaring, the world fading as she panted, gently squeezing Cassian's wrist. He loosened his grip at her request, but still stared down at her with that unyielding dominance in his eyes, she'd lost, she'd completely and utterly lost.

"Try again," he whispered, and Nesta whimpered, her lie slipping away as she wriggled, Cassian raised an eyebrow, and she stilled, "What were you saying? That I'm not the only one who gets you like this?" He tightened his grip again, and she gasped out his name,

"No, please, I'm sorry, it wasn't true, it wasn't true." He released his grip on her throat, but kept his hand in place, holding her still,

"So you lied to me." She didn't have a clever response to that, "Well?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I'm sorry," she added after a moment, squirming under his gaze as he silently glared down at her,

"Oh we're definitely playing with the mirror now. Do not move." Nesta obeyed, laying still as he disappeared from her view, but shifted around at the sounds of rustling. "You can sit up now." She did, her gaze snapping towards the mirror, and she felt another rush of wetness at the sight before her. Cassian was utterly, gloriously naked, already hard and ready, a length of rope in his hands. It was an effort to stay still, to avoid rushing straight towards him, but this was part of the game, now she'd lost, she had to play the game, had to wait for his order. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her head at Cassian's nod, "Come here," Nesta didn't need any more encouragement to practically leap up, but she caught herself in time, managing to maintain a steady pace as she walked towards him.

He tipped her chin upwards, one hand in her hair, the other tugging her waist against him, and Nesta moaned when Cassian tugged her head backwards, gripping onto his shoulders as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She couldn't breathe fast enough, not with the way he was kissing her, hard, fast, so much that she almost couldn't match his movements. He was faster than her, catching her off guard when he nipped at her bottom lip, making her jaw drop further. He allowed her all of one breath before surging back towards her, claiming her lips so thoroughly that she had no doubt of what she wanted,

"No one else," he snarled, "No one else get to have you,"

"No one," she panted, still trembling in his arms, "I'm all yours," she whispered, and Cassian spun her around, and tugged her backwards against his chest, so that she was staring into the mirror. She tried to turn away, but Cassian gripped her chin, turning her head back to the mirror, forcing her to stare into her own eyes. She automatically moved back, but found herself pinned still, Cassian's arms around her waist, she could only see him in the mirror, see the way he was grinning, the way his lips were now slightly swollen, a deep flush creeping down his chest, not that she was in any better shape. With her hair unbound, he'd been able to mess it up enough to make her look truly desperate, if her red cheeks and panting breaths hadn't already given her away.

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta saw herself melt under the praise, saw herself sink into his arms, and didn't complain when he slowly leaned back, supporting her with one arm as he lowered them to the floor. He snatched up the discarded length of rope, and steel gathered in Nesta's veins again as she made to crawl away from him, from where she was sitting between his legs. While he was distracted she could snatch back control, but he wasn't really distracted, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her backwards with a yelp until she was pressed against him again. He locked his ankles against hers, dragging her legs open, and gently guided her head back so that it rested on his shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, but twisted her wrist out of his grip when he caught it, but forgot about the other one, and she huffed when he looped the rope around it, losing her concentration on evading him, and struggled against him for a moment when he caught both, before giving in and glaring at him through the mirror as he bound them together in front of her. In front, not behind, because he wanted to be closer to her, to touch her.

Nesta's eyes flickered shut at the first light touch across her stomach,

"Eyes open," Cassian reminded her, "Watch." She did as she was told, her gaze fixed on his hands where they rubbed circles across her skin, rising higher to knead her breasts in time with her ragged breaths,

"Please," she whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, and apparently failing, judging by Cassian's chuckled against the skin of her neck,

"Awwww, can't take it?" He tugged on her earlobe, and sped up at the same time, "That's too bad," he hummed, "How badly do you want it?"

"Bad. Please, Cass, please, please," he hummed wordlessly, as if considering her plea,

"You're so pretty when you beg, sweetheart, I want to hear some more." Despite his words, he did dip his hand to brush against her clit, leaving her wriggling, and rocking her hips against him, until he pulled away. She sobbed in desperation, biting her lip to keep from squealing,

"Please," she muttered again, "I need you," no difference, "General," she crooned, and almost laughed at the way Cassian's hands froze momentarily before continuing, "Please, General, I need your cock inside me, I need you to fuck me, please," she tried to sound teasing, but it still came out as a weak whimper,

"Fuck," Cassian muttered next to her ear, his head dropped into her neck as he pressed gentle kisses against her skin, his hair as messy as hers now, a dark angel, her warrior. "You see what you do to me?" He whispered, "Only I can have you, but only you can have me," she was still processing his words when he slid two fingers through her sex, coating them with her wetness, "Oh, you are desperate aren't you, Nesta?" He teased before sliding a finger into her, then a second, pumping them in and out a few times, his other hand keeping her head from falling back, forcing her to keep watching as she rode his fingers, her hips bucking almost uncontrollably now. She screamed his name when he curled his fingers inside her, already hurtling over the edge, and kept screaming as he kept moving inside her, dragging a second climax from her as soon as the first had finished, then a third, then a fourth. Nesta sobbed with pleasure when she came down from her fourth climax, trying to squirm away, trying to push his hand away,

"I can't," she gasped, "Please,"

"You can, and you will. You lied to me, you owe me another four before we play," No, no, no, eight was the number for lying, but she'd hoped he'd just spank her, this was so much harder, and she sobbed again when he pushed her towards the edge. She couldn't do it, it was too much, but she screamed her pleasure again when she came a fifth time, her body no longer responding to her commands to wriggle away from him, to escape the overwhelming pleasure arcing through her at each orgasm. She could hardly see through the tears blurring her vision, but she knew that she was absolutely wrecked, could feel the way her body was loose and pliant against Cassian's, how easily he could move her around, his fingers reaching deeper inside her as he stretched her out, "One more for me, sweetheart, one more, okay," Nesta nodded, and wriggled as her muscles tightened, coiling in her stomach, until Cassian bit down on her neck, sending it all rushing outwards, washing over her in a great wave, leaving her screaming and crying in pleasure.

Cassian gently stroked her hair, rubbing soothing circles against her ribs as Nesta struggled to fill her lungs again and again, spooling herself back together piece by piece, panting as Cassian untied her wrists

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta mumbled something incoherent, earning a chuckle from her mate, "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous," he hummed, and kissed the top of her head. He meant it, Nesta knew he meant it, but the praise still made her squirm, still made her automatically think he was lying. "You did so well, sweetheart," she melted under the adoration in his voice, twisting in his arms to look into his eyes, "You okay?" She nodded, and buried her face in his neck, sighing happily. "Color?" Cassian murmured, and she twisted her head sideways to mutter,

"Orange, I just need a minute."

"Are you done?"

"No. I just need a break," Cassian held her against him as she breathed, and breathed, and breathed, her mind-stilling exercises helping her to relax, to bring herself back to her body, to the present, to Cassian. Once she was ready, she leaned back into him, dragging his face back to hers, her heart cracking at the gentleness of his movements, the worry in his eyes when he pulled back, and lightly kissed her nose. Nesta grinned, and kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip to turn the kiss into something more, something more demanding. That familiar smirk returned the moment Cassian released her lips, and Nesta shifted her hips against him, chuckling at his muttered curses. She shot him a glance over her shoulder, "Green," she trilled, and leaned forwards onto her forearms, lifting her ass in silent demand. Cassian rose behind her, running a hand down her spine, sparking shivers wherever their skin met, and pushed her legs further apart. Nesta dropped her head onto the floor, suddenly grateful for Cassian's foresight to put a rug there, softening the hard floorboards.

"You're supposed to be watching," Cassian murmured, and Nesta yelped when he pulled her head up, her hair wrapped around his wrist, his hand fisted in her hair. She gasped when he tugged again, lifting her off her hands for a moment before letting her back down, "Now watch, sweetheart," he whispered before slamming into her in one thrust. The sound that left Nesta's throat was one of pure animalistic need, and she couldn't look away, not as he pumped his hips against hers, not as his eyes dropped half-closed with pleasure, not as she unraveled, screaming his name with each thrust. He released her hair to grab her hips with both hands, pulling her backwards at the same time as he thrust forwards into her, Nesta screamed wordlessly, stars filling her vision with each thrust. She lost track of exactly what she was saying, what she was begging for, but Cassian gave her everything she could have asked for, and then some. She came twice more, screaming his name, but still begging for more, until he finally groaned her name, and came himself after one last, harsh thrust. Nesta had already slumped forwards, her ass still in the air as his release slowly dripped out of her. She could never tire of this, of him, not if they had a million years, and she must have said as much, because Cassian eased her into his lap, still panting himself from the force of his climax,

"Now I'm done," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as they sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable, safe in each others' arms. Cassian was still running his hands up an down her sides, as if he needed that contact, that reassurance that Nesta was okay, as he did every time. She kissed his jaw, "I love you," she mumbled, her heart aching at the undisguised worry in his eyes, "I'm fine," she wriggled back slightly, "See? Fine," still, Cassian would need to check for himself, but Nesta could do this for him, "I will always love you, you know that, right?"

"I know," he ran his lips across her jaw again, "But it does help to hear you say it,"

"I can say if every five minutes if that's what you need to believe me." He chuckled at that, and ran his gaze over her again,

"You sure you're okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," she took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, proving to him that she was recovering fine, still remembering his panic when she'd come one too many times, and hadn't been able to catch her breath. Cassian had made sure to watch her breathing ever since, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she'd tell him if she was struggling, even if Madja had said that it was just because she had been tired. Cassian was still holding her to his chest, waiting until her breathing had completely returned to normal before carrying her across to the bed,

"Give me one minute, okay?" Nesta nodded, and Cassian moved quickly to the bathroom, coming back in less than the minute he'd asked for, finding Nesta alert, and glancing around the room. She relaxed again the moment he reappeared in her vision, "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I should have had this ready in here,"

"It's okay," Nesta muttered, "You're here, that's all I need," Cassian kissed her forehead again before gently cleaning her up with the washcloth he'd gone to fetch, but protested when she tried to do the same, claiming that he was fine, but Nesta just glared at him until he caved. She was still wobbly on her feet when she stood, and she didn't miss the note of satisfaction in Cassian's gaze when he noted that fact, but she ignored it, careful when she reached his back. "Do you want me to do your wings?" Cassian nodded, and Nesta swiped up a towel, quickly drying the areas she'd washed straight away, and Cassian dropped his head forwards, his eyes falling closed, a low groan sounding in his chest, not one of pleasure, but contentment. Nesta placed the bowl and cloths to the side, smiling when Cassian slipped under the covers, opening his arms to her. She slipped underneath one, half-laying on his chest, with Cassian holding her tightly against him, one hand around her waist, the other cradling her head. She sighed happily, and snuggled into him, giggling when he wrapped his wings around her, leaving her head free, her breathing space. She mumbled again that she loved him, but she was already slipping into sleep, hardly registering his chuckle as he stroked her hair softly until he too fell asleep.

[neonponders]

I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol​ it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could - 

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

[fics-of-culture]

Of Shortcomings and Short Winchesters

Requested by anonymous

Castiel x Short Female Reader

Summary: The youngest Winchester had always been on the shorter end of the spectrum. What happens when our favorite trench coat wearing angel makes her feel insecure about that fact? Very minimal angst. Mostly fluff.

Words: 2,433

You were sitting silently in front of the desk in Bobby’s house, pouring over dozens of lore books pertaining to both heaven and impending the apocalypse when you felt it again. Eyes were boring into the back of your head for the third time in the past twenty minutes. You snap your head to side, just fast enough to see the side of Castiel’s face as he turns away from you and pretends to observe some of the books on the shelves behind you. This sort of thing had been happening a lot lately. While your brothers were out on hunts, Castiel had taken to spending more time with you at Bobby’s. The two of you were currently searching for solutions to this whole ‘apocalypse’ conundrum. Apparently Castiel, or Cas as your brother Dean had started referring to him, had also taken to observing you when he thought you were unaware. You turn your head back to the book before you before deciding to call him out on his not so subtle staring.

“Do you need anything, Cas?” You try to keep the irritation out of your voice, but to be frank, you’d appreciate Cas’ presence a little more if he were actually working and not just gawking at you. You’re not sure you did a very good job at seeming neutral because the moment you spoke, the angel froze. Like he’s been caught with his hand halfway in the cookie jar. Not that angels needed such sustenance, as Cas frequently reminded you whenever you offered him food, but you get the gist of it.

“No.” Castiel managed to choke out after some time, his voice seeming gruffer than usual. ‘As if that’s even possible’, a helpful part of your brain chimes out. You shrug off the thought as he continues. “Actually, I was just about to ask if you needed my help with anything.” ‘Anything?’ Your traitorous mind ponders. You turn your head to observe Cas for the first time since this conversation started. His head was cocked to the side in that adorable way of his as he awaited your response.

“Actually now that you mention it,” You say, thoughtfully. Rising from your seat, you brush past the bashful angel as you step in front of the bookshelf Cas was just staring at. “Sam mentioned one of these books needing translation.” You tell him as you attempt to find the book Sam spoke of earlier. You’d looked through each shelf before you found it… sitting comfortably on the top shelf. You let out a small sigh as you look at it, silently debating the least embarrassing way to get your hands on it. It was no secret that you had not been gifted with the same freakishly long legs that your brothers had inherited from the family. But that being said, you’d still like to humiliate yourself as little as possible in front of the perfect angel you’d come to know as Castiel. Sure, he was nice, but you weren’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t tease you if he saw you hoping up on a stool just to get one book down. With this thought in mind, you hesitantly raise your arm, pulling your body up on your tiptoes to see if you can’t reach the book by yourself. Your shirt rides up as you stretch, showing off a small portion of your back. Your fingers brush against the spine of the book and you can immediately tell that you’re not gonna be able to pull it out. You’re just about to sigh and admit defeat when you feel a hand placed gently on your hip. A chest presses against your back as you see a trench coat clad arm reach up to join yours. This arm has a much longer reach, however and manages to easily pull the needed book off the tall shelf. You let your arm drop uselessly by your side as Castiel steps away from you, lore book in hand. 

“You um… you seemed like you were having trouble.” Cas gestures towards the shelf awkwardly as he explains himself. You try to swallow your embarrassment and having needed help before turning back to the task at hand.

“Thanks.” You say shyly. He gives you a small smile before turning back to the newly retrieved lore book.

“So, did Sam say which pages needed translating?” He places the book on Bobby’s desk before leafing through a few pages. You move to stand next to him as he searches through the book. He flips through most of the book before you spot a few highlighted pages.

“There,” You point out to Cas. “Sam said he highlighted the part he couldn’t understand. He said he couldn’t even tell what language it was in.” Cas nodded as he looked over the page.

“I’m not surprised Sam couldn’t understand this. It’s Enochian.” Castiel’s finger trailed over the page as he started to translate it. Eyes squinting slightly as he focuses on the page before him.

“Enochian?” You asked. Cas let out a grunt of confirmation as he read.

“It is the language of the angels.” He told you distractedly. Clearly focused on his task of translating the angelic language. You let out a small ‘huh’ as you observed the page. The script was beautiful, you observed idly. You allowed your fingers to trace over the printed runes away from the text Castiel was reading, not wanting to distract him as you observed his language. You seemed to have failed in this endeavor however, as when you looked up from the page you noticed that Cas had paused his reading and was instead staring intently at your small hand as it glided along the page. You decide to break the tension that was suddenly filling the room.

“So you can speak this language?” this question seemed to break the angel out of his trance. He cleared his throat before looking up at you.

“Yes, although it is quite difficult for humans to understand.” You nod as he explains. “This however,” He gestures back to the book. “Will be of no use to us. It has no information on the apocalypse and is instead a guide on angel reproduction.” You feel your eyebrows shoot up as he says this.

“Angels can reproduce?” Castiel looks positively sheepish now. A slight blush rising on his face.

“Sometimes.” He says quietly. He clears his throat again. “But it is not the same as human reproduction. Humans are… unique in their manner of reproduction.” Cas’ sentence trails off uncertainly and you start to realize just how uncomfortable the topic seems to be making him. So naturally you decide to continue it, if only to see how red you can make the trench coat wearing angel turn.

“How so?” You ask innocently. Castiel seems to be desperately avoiding your gaze now.

“Like uhh…” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. All the while studying the wall in front of him, as though it held the answers he was seeking. “Genetics!” Castiel exclaims suddenly, turning to meet your eyes again. You can’t help but find yourself a bit disappointed that Cas had managed to dig himself out of the hole he had been creating. Cas continues regardless. “For example, it is strange to me how some members of a family can look as though they do not belong.” You couldn’t help but feel a little lost at the sudden turn the conversation took. But you decided to humor Cas by going along with it.

“I don’t think I follow.” You tell him, waiting patiently for him to clarify.

“Like you and your brothers. It is odd that out of your entire family, you look as though you could possibly be completely unrelated to the others. What with your small stature and the Winchester family’s history of having tall offspring.” This statement caused you to freeze in place. Somewhere in the rational part of your brain you knew Castiel didn’t mean it like that, but it was too late. Years of repressed insecurity managed to take hold of your brain. Years of feeling you weren’t good enough. Not large enough both literally and figuratively, to fill the shoes of your hunter family. Not good enough to to be taken out on hunts with your brothers. Not strong enough to save your father. Not even tall enough to be considered a Winchester. If Cas noticed the shift in your mood as he spoke he did not show it. Instead, he seemed content to rattle off facts about genetics in different species. You couldn’t stay here. You turned away from Cas suddenly, making some excuse about needing to use the bathroom before rushing out of the room. Leaving a confused angel in your wake.

-

You had spent the past few hours holed up in one of the spare rooms in Bobby’s house. To take your mind off of Cas’ harsh words you let your attention be completely consumed by lore. Bobby had gotten home an hour ago and even knocked on your door, but you couldn’t find it in you to get up and greet him. He must’ve been able to tell that you weren’t feeling well because he left you alone after that. Somewhere in your mind you’re aware that you shouldn’t be letting Castiel’s words affect you like this, but some days it was difficult not to let your insecurities consume you. And it had hurt all the more hearing the words fall from Cas’ lips. You regarded his opinion very highly. He was a practically perfect angel after all. And the idea that he might see you as being the weak link of your family hurt more than you’d like to admit. You had been working up the courage to leave your safe haven when you heard a commotion down the hall. It sounded like two voices having a heated discussion. Well, one voice on the receiving end of a heated discussion. But try as you might, you couldn’t really make out what they were saying or who was speaking. A few moments later and the hall was back to being silent. You were just about to stand up and see what was going on when a knock sounded at your door.

“Y/n? May I come in?” You hear Castiel’s voice, muffled by the door. You steel yourself before telling him to come in. You wait with bated breath as he silently enters the room, stepping carefully as though he would startle you if he made any noise. “May I?” He speaks softly as he gestures to the bed in the center in the room. You nod and he seats himself a bit unsurely on the bed. You place yourself beside him, waiting to see what he wanted. His eyes were focused on his lap as he spoke. His posture resembled that of a reprimanded child. “You disappeared earlier. And when Bobby returned home, he seemed to think that I had somehow managed to upset you. I’m unsure whether this is true or not, but I came to tell you that if I managed to offend you, I am sorry. I did not mean to.” Your guarded exterior melts a bit when his eyes meet yours. His piercing gaze seemed to desperately search yours. Looking to see if he truly had caused offence. You let out a small sigh as you try to think of how to explain to an angel that his earlier words had hurt you.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but you hurt me earlier when you said I did not look like a Winchester.” Castiel opened his mouth suddenly as if to dispute you, but you carried on. “I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I’m not good enough for this family, so to have you remind me of one of my many shortcomings… it hurt.” Castiel slowly closed his mouth and let out a sigh as he looked back again at his lap. The room remained silent for several minutes. 

“It is not a shortcoming.” You hear Cas whisper quietly to himself.

“What?” You ask. His head jerks up suddenly and he fixes you again with his piercing blue eyes. 

“Your height. It is not a shortcoming. And it certainly has no effect on how I view you as a hunter. In fact, smaller fighters have many advantages over larger adversaries.” You smile softly at him as he speaks, resting a hand on his knee. He turns to look at it as he continues. “Besides, it is my understanding that some men find themselves more attracted to short women.” You chuckled a bit as Castiel spoke shyly, not daring to face you.

“Did you just call me cute?” You ask hesitantly. 

“I believe I called you ‘attractive’” Castiel corrected as he turned to look at you. His face slightly flushed from the sudden turn in the conversation. He was biting his lower lip nervously. You felt yourself growing bold.

“Do you find shorter girls attractive, Castiel?” You slid closer to him as your hand slid a bit up his leg. The angel stared at you dumbfounded for a moment, before visibly plucking up his courage. His back straightened as he regarded you.

“Only if that girl is you.” He spoke so quietly you weren’t entirely certain you had heard him at all. But the look he was giving you all but confirmed what he had said. His eyes sliding down your face every few seconds to observe your lips. Giving them a look that could only be described as a desperate need. “I have enjoyed getting to know you recently. I find myself spending a surprising amount of time thinking of you.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his confession. Castiel starts to lean in slowly. Watching your face for any sign of hesitation. When he is only a hair's breadth away he pauses. “May I kiss you, Y/n?” You nod. Not trusting yourself to speak in this moment. A look of pure relief flashes across Castiel’s face before he closes the gap between the two of you. It is several moments before you break the surprisingly heated kiss. Your head resting against Cas’. If an angel could be out of breath, that is how you would describe him in this moment. You let out a small chuckle and Castiel cocks his head slightly.

“My brothers are gonna kill you.” Cas’ smile grows even wider at this.

“For you, I would fight through a thousand Winchester brothers.”

[tchallasbabymama]

Potential Breakup Fic

Yes, this is inspired by the re-release of the classic “Potential Breakup Song” by legends Aly & AJ. Check out the rest of my Masterlist HERE. Enjoy!

Word count: 2223

CW: Niggas aint shit. Kiana sat on her couch and tried not to cry into her glass of merlot. She took off her heels and got up to unzip her dress and take off her bra since she knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. She checked her phone again and was met with an empty screen. No notifications, no missed calls. She threw her phone down in anger, and was thankful when she noticed the screen didn’t crack.

“I can't believe this nigga.”

She looked at the clock and shook her head. It was 12:07am, and her 25th birthday was officially over without so much as a word from her boyfriend. Just last night he had told her to be ready by 7, and she hadn't heard from him since.

They had been together, on and off, for three years. They met their junior year at Howard, but didn’t hit it off right away. He was too slick for her liking, but over time he eventually weaseled his way into her heart. His smile lit up the whole room and his big brown eyes could seduce anyone just like that. And he did, constantly. T’Challa was a huge flirt, and it was cute when they were still single and just getting to know each other, but even now T’Challa turns his charm on for every pretty face he sees. Kiana had brought it up to him many times, letting him know how disrespected she felt. He would always say the same thing.

“But entle, I’m just being nice. You know I only have eyes for you.”

She did know that once, but that ended about a year and a half ago when she was casually scrolling through twitter on his phone and caught him cheating.

“T’Challa!”

“Yes, my love?”

“What the fuck is this?!”

“Why are you on my phone?!”

“Don't fucking raise your voice at me, I’m not in the wrong here. I saw a funny tweet and started scrolling when YOU got a text from some bitch named Jasmine talking bout ‘I miss you daddy’ and sending you pictures of her pussy. Care to explain?”

He reached for the phone and she pulled it away from him.

“Nah-uh, talk.”

He sighed in exasperation. 

“If you give me the phone I can explain, sithan-”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me, answer the goddamn question. How long, T’Challa?!”

“Just once. Eh, one and a half maybe-”

He was interrupted by a throw pillow to the head.

“How the fuck do you halfway cheat nigga?!”

“She just gave me head the first ti-”

“That’s still cheating!”

“Will you lower your voice? You have neighbors.”

“Fuck! Them! Did you even use a condom?”

“Yes, Kiana I’m not-”

“Stupid? You’re not stupid?” Kiana laughed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“My love, I-”

“Oh now I’m your love? Where the fuck was that energy when you were balls deep in this other bitch?!”

T’Challa stood there dumbstruck. He had never seen Kiana get this angry and didn’t know what to say. He knew he was wrong when he did it, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made him truly regret what he’d done. She had been so busy with school and work that she barely had time for him anymore. He had needs and just so happened to stumble upon someone more than willing to fulfil them. 

He cursed himself for not locking his phone or at the very least, turning it over. 

“How many, T’Challa...” Kiana sniffled.

“I told you, it was only twice-”

“How many women?!”

He froze, not knowing if he should mention Lisa since that was so much earlier in their relationship.

“Oh my god...oh my god...oh my- are you fucking serious?! I-I have to...I have to go get tested, I-”

“Kia-”

“What?!”

She looked at him with such fierceness that he shrunk under her gaze.

“I-I am sorry, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I was-”

He was stopped by a heavy-handed slap across his cheek that nearly knocked him over.

“Get the fuck out.” She said, barely above a whisper.

Six months later they ran into each other in the grocery store and decided to catch up over a cup of coffee. Kiana had healed and moved on, but T’Challa was still stuck on her. They had spent almost two good years together before he ruined what they had, and he just couldn’t let it go. He loved her, and he was determined to make it work this time.

Or so he really, truly thought before he met Marci...and Tanisha...

T’Challa knew he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he just couldn’t let Kiana go. His dalliances were never serious, just enough to scratch his constant itching. Sometimes they were a one-time thing, but others stuck around if they were good enough and knew how to be discreet. No matter what though, he always came back home to Kiana because despite his trash behavior, he really did love her in his own toxic way.

However, he didn’t love her enough to double check his calendar before leaving work on her birthday, or any day leading up to it. He had forgotten what day it was, and when he told Kiana to be ready at 7 he just meant for a regular date night. 

It had been a long day at the Wakandan Embassy and Kiana’s Prince Charming needed a drink more than anything. He stopped at the first bar he came across that looked halfway decent. T’Challa walked up to the bar and caught the eye of the beautiful barkeep.

“Hiya, what can I do for you?”

T’Challa smiled his panty-dropping smile and she smiled back, revealing her perfect, white teeth. There was nothing he loved more than a pretty smile.

“Well, miss…”

“Tanisha,” she responded while using both arms to mix a shaker full of liquid courage and ice. His eyes avoided her chest, slyly watching in the periphery only. 

“Well, Miss Tanisha, I had a horrible day at work and I am in need of a whiskey on the rocks. Preferably Jack, but truly anything will do.”

“We all have those days honey. Here’s a double on the house,” she said as she slid the drink to him across the bar top with a wink.

T’Challa licked his lips and lifted his glass to her before taking a sip of the warm amber liquid. He let out a sigh and his day seemed to melt away. 

Tanisha kept coming back to check on him and they would chat when the crowd died down. T’Challa was on his third double when she came over with a plate of wings.

“You’re an angel.” He dug into the wings and made a complete mess on his shirt, so he went to the bathroom to try to wash the stain out. On his way back to the bar he noticed a very tall and sweaty man leaning over the bar trying to talk to Tanisha. From what he could see, she wasn’t feeling the conversation, but he kept approaching her anyway. When T’Challa returned to his seat she immediately gravitated towards him. This angered Mr. Tall and Sweaty, who drunkenly attempted to punch T’Challa in the face. T’Challa dodged the lazy punch and knocked him out cold with one hit. Security saw the whole thing go down, and removed Tall and Sweaty from the building once he came to. 

“What you got planned for the night, handsome?”

“Nothing at all, why do you ask?”

“I get off at 9, wanna hang out?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, now here’s a water.”

“Thank you, angel.”

By 10pm he was already halfway inside her, and when his phone started vibrating he was too wrapped up in her to think anything of it. Without looking he quieted the annoying sound and turned the phone off so he could focus on the task at hand.

Two and a half hours later, T’Challa was creeping out of Tanisha’s bed right as Kiana was sliding into hers. She had washed off all her makeup, but she didn’t have the emotional energy to tie up her hair. Normally she would wear one of T’Challa’s t-shirts, but she was too angry with him so she slept in a cute nighty she never wore. She admired herself in the mirror for half a second before bursting into tears and pulling the covers up to her head. She tried to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and she eventually gave herself a headache. How could he miss her birthday?

Kiana got up and threw on her plush maroon robe before she padded to the bathroom to grab some Advil. On the way she noticed her phone getting multiple notifications, the first of which was from her best friend Bebe.

“Have u seen this?! Sis, I’m so sorry. When we slashing his tires? Just 3 tho, this nigga needs to pay $$$.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?”

Kiana clicked the link and saw that it was Bebe’s cousin Darrell’s Instagram Story. Apparently there was a fight at the bar where he was celebrating a coworker’s promotion and he had filmed it for all of Instagram to see. Kayla stared at her phone in shock. There was her aint-shit boyfriend at a goddamn bar on her fucking birthday. She watched him punch a guy in the face on her birthday. At a bar. Without her.

She thought the kicker came when she saw him turn around and flirt with the bartender, but the story after that just about killed her. There he was, leading her out the back door with his hand too far down on her lower back to be simply platonic. Even the caption read “Ooooh someone’s about to get some ‘thank you’ pussy. That damsel in distress pussy hit different!”

Kiana saw red and almost cracked her phone for a second time tonight. 

She grabbed the remaining merlot and downed it before throwing the bottle at the picture of them on the fridge. She watched the glass shatter and cut their faces while the trace bit of deep red wine seeped down the picture like blood. She wanted to trash the whole place, but remembered she would have to clean it later. Kiana started to hyperventilate and felt like she needed to get some air when she heard the lock turn.

“Kiki, what are you doin- are you ok? What happened here?”

Kiana ignored him as she walked towards where she threw her phone, silently pulling up the story and handing it to him. She watched his face go from confused, to shocked, to fearful. No regret, though. 

“Ki-”

“Give me your key.”

“Kiana, please let me-”

“The key. Now,” she said with her voice completely devoid of any emotion.

T’Challa assumed she would be angry and yell or throw things, but this quiet storm terrified him. To him, it felt like she didn’t even care anymore. He was right.

He slowly reached his hand out and she snatched the key ring, removing hers and tossing the rest back to him.

“I’ll have your stuff packed by the morning. It’ll be outside my door by 8am. If it’s still there when I get back from work it’s going in the trash.”

T’Challa couldn’t bear the coldness in her voice. Tears rolled down his face and his knees buckled.

“Kiana, please. I can explain, I didn-”

“I don't give a fuck what you did or didnt do. You know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because it was my birthday, T’Challa. MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY and YOU forgot it. Not only did you forget it, my gift was you fucking some other bitch and leaving me lonely yet again. So no, I don't care if you fucked her or not even though I know your sorry ass did. I know she’s probably not the only one because I saw how easily you slid on in there in that video. You were way too comfortable, so I don't even want to ask you how many because it doesnt fucking matter anymore. Now you can stick your dick in every fine ass Black girl you see without remorse, oh wait...you were already doing that. So fuck you, get out my apartment before I call my brothers.”

“Kiana…”

“5, 4, 3,...” Kiana counted as she dialed her eldest brother Trey’s number, ignoring T'Challa's pathetic excuses. “2, 1… Hey Trey, I’m sorry did I wake you up?...Yeah I have a situat- oh look at that, his bitch ass is leaving-”

“I am sorry, Kiana,” T’Challa said one last time before she slammed the door in his face. He could hear her on the other side of the door explaining the situation to her brother, and when she started to cry it finally hit him. Her wails broke his spirit and more tears fell from his eyes. 

He knew Trey would be over soon to comfort his baby sister and he needed to get the hell out of dodge, so T’Challa left Kiana’s apartment and never came back. Not even for his things, which turned out to be the best thing for Kiana because she and her girls got to burn it all up in Trey’s backyard fire pit and finally release that toxic man from her life.

[partnersatfazbear]

Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

[stillebesat]

Catch Me (If You Can) -part 3

December Drabbles Day 23 Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman, Janus Blurb: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick. Fic Type: Sick!Fic, Guardian!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Sickness, Fainting, Mentions of Religion Taglist in reblog.

To Catch Up: Part 1  Part 2  

The scraping of a chair somewhere nearby was what drew Remy out the warm embrace of unconsciousness. He stirred, eyelids fluttering as an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“I didn’t think Lo was allowed to bring his science experiments home.” 

There was a soft exhale, the sound of paper rustling as a book was closed. “He was a customer, Janus. I didn’t create him, he fainted down below and I brought him up here.” 

That voice. 

Remy frowned, turning his head, a damp cloth slipping down to rest by his nose as he strained to hear. To remember.

How did he know that wonderful cadentic voice? 

“Ha!” 

Remy flinched at the unexpected laugh, eyes flashing open as he pushed himself upright, his arm trembling from the movement, the blanket covering him falling to his waist. Where? He looked around, pausing as he found a bowl of soup with steam still rising from it on the coffee table near him with a tall clear glass of what could only be water right next to it. 

He grimaced, throat feeling like burning sandpaper as he swung his feet to the carpet so he could reach the glass. Still cold. How had---He shook his head, raising the glass to his dry lips. The relief to his throat was instantaneous. 

Wherever he’d ended up it definitely hadn’t been to a party. That sort of hangover felt much different than this.

“Oh, he fainted alright!” The louder voice--Red...why did it make him think of Red? continued as Remy lowered the glass back to the table. “Right into your arms like a damsel in distress. It was a wonderful sight to behold, Specs.” 

Specs. An ugly nickname. It wasn’t right for--for? Remy twisted, searching the empty living room as he staggered to his feet, hissing softly as his vision tunneled. Wherever he was he needed to leave. Now! Before his image was ruined--before he--

He already had. 

Remy froze, memory rushing back as a long suffering sigh, like an angelic chorus sounded from what could only be the kitchen. “It didn’t happen like that, Roman.”

His Angel. 

“Soo...you kidnapped him from the Cafe.” Janus stated. 

His Angel...also now known as this ‘Lo’ groaned as a thunk sounded on a wooden surface. “I. Did. Not.” came the muffled retort. “He’s not a prisoner.” 

“Reeeeally~?” Red--Roman? Clicked his tongue. “Didn’t the guy try to leave before you stopped him?”

Oh yes. He distinctly remembered that. Remy glanced to his wrists, before frowning down at his socked feet and the shoes neatly lined up nearby. But...if he was a prisoner--his captor--his Angel was doing a bad job of it. Leaving him untied and unsupervised and free to leave whenever.

Like now.

Scooping up his shoes, Remy tiptoed for the door, ignoring how the floor seemed to sway under his feet. 

“If he tried to leave, Then pray tell me, Lo. Why is he still here?” The one called Janus demanded. “If it had been any other human you’d have called an ambulance and washed your lily white wings of them.” 

Remy paused, hand on the door knob to freedom. Wings? Wait. Hadn’t---hadn’t this Lo mentioned something about--about---being his--

Guardian. 

He licked his chapped lips, turning to look at the other doorway where the other three were hidden from view, blood pounding in his ears. 

Angels weren’t real.

And if they were--they certainly couldn’t be working in a quaint grandma cafe! Shouldn’t they be off like---bringing messages of peace and saving the world from global warming or something? 

There was a rumble, barely audible to Remy’s ears.

“Take two, Lomageddon. We didn’t hear that.” Roman said. 

There was another soft thunk. “I said. He called me.”

Come again?

There was a scoff from the kitchen. “I thought you were...what is that lovely phrase? “Taking a Break? Having a little Self Care time from your Guardian responsibilities?”

“Oh you’re one to talk.” Lo hissed. “Neither of you would exactly be here either if you had followed guidelines!” 

Remy let out a slow breath as he slowly placed his shoes back on the ground, cursing under his breath as curiosity got the better of him. Were--were these guys--actually claiming to be angels? 

He had to see it to believe it.

On silent feet, he crept forward to the entryway of what he guessed was the kitchen.

“He’s--well he’s gotta point Deecepticon.” Roman remarked, his tone slightly more subdued.

Janus scoffed and Remy could practically feel this unknown third guy rolling his eyes. “Please. Neither one of us are exactly Class A examples like Lo here is for following the rules. And you, Roman,” He crooned the name. “Have been worth every single broken rule in the book.” 

Remy peered around the corner in time to see Red blush full scarlet as the mysterious third guy, Janus, reached out his gloved hands holding tight to Roman’s as a slight glowing haze like a mirage in the desert shimmered around them. 

He squinted, struggling to focus on what he was seeing. It almost--it almost looked like there were...wings. Remy rolled his shoulders in response, glancing to the third party member who had his head buried in his arms.

His Angel. 

His Angel who also had that odd...shimmer….Remy’s heart skipped a beat as Lo shifted like he was gonna raise his head and abruptly pulled back out of sight, hissing under his breath as his vision blurred.

Nope nope nope.

He scrubbed at his eyes as he stumbled--darted--over to his shoes, scooping them up as he rushed to the front door. He could figure out exactly what he’d just seen and heard later when his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed full of cotton. Where he wasn’t feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Where he--

“Remy?”

He shivered at the cadentic tone of his Angel rang in his ears, hand freezing on the door knob leading to his freedom. “Don’t.” He said, refusing to turn around, glad that for once his voice cooperated. He didn’t want a repeat of earli--yesterday--what time was it?! Regardless. He needed to get out of here. 

“Oh. He is stubborn.” Janus remarked from somewhere behind. “Didn’t you say--”

“He did say.” Red--Roman chuckled. “Out for the next twelve hours, Lo, and what? It’s been maybe four?” 

The hairs on the back of Remy’s neck rose. Lo had tried to keep him asleep for twelve hours?! HOW--No. No. Leave. Leave this audience that regrettably already knew he was...sick. But if he could just--He jerked at the door, growling under his breath when it refused to open. Could his Angel actually stop doors from working?! It was--

A soft sigh sounded as a hand reached around him to unlock the deadbolt.

Oh. Right. Locks exist. 

“You should be resting more you know. Your fever’s hardly gone down.” 

Remy flinched, grip tightening on his shoes. He knew that. He could feel how bad he felt. He just--

“But if you stay away from 32nd street, you should make it home without issue.” 

Wait. “What?” How did he know that?! Remy frowned, finding himself turning to look into the shining sapphires of his Angel’s eyes before he could stop himself. “You’re actually letting me leave this time? Not gonna stop me?” 

Could it really be so easy? Wasn’t he going to use his fellow cohorts hovering by the kitchen to subdue him again? Make him fall asleep? 

Lo raised an eyebrow, holding out Remy’s sunglasses in his other hand. “Do you want me to, Remy?” 

“No.” He snatched his sunglasses back, relaxing a little as he slipped them over his eyes. “Didn’t the first time either, Sugarbee, and that turned out with me laid out like one of your French girls on your couch.” 

Roman snorted, crossing his arms. “Hardly, he did keep your clothes on.” 

Not. The. Point. 

“Ignore him.” His Angel said, shooting the other two a look. 

Gladly. He pulled open the door, quickly slipping out into the hallway. “Avoid 32nd street you say--” He cut off, and whirled back to Lo, ignoring how his vision swam a bit too much after that little maneuver, favoring jabbing a finger in the general direction of his Angel instead. “How do you know where I live!” He demanded. “Or even my name?!” He didn’t remember telling his angel who he was, but that was the second time he’d used it since he’d woken up.

Another scoff sounded from inside the apartment.

Lo blinked, raising an eyebrow as he held out a steaming to-go cup of soup out to Remy. 

When had he grabbed that? His Angel had only been holding his sunglasses--of course. It was probably some sort of divine angely magic. 

Or it was like the deadbolt and he just hadn’t noticed--GAH. This was too confusing on a feverish mind.

Not that he was feverish--or sick. No, he was fine. 

Until he found out what the Socials were saying about him freaking fainting in public when he got home that is. But he could pretend for now.

“I know from your driver’s license.” Lo said, with a shrug. “I checked it when you...fainted.” 

Oh that made sense--wait. Remy scoffed, ignoring the burning in his throat and the grumbling of his stomach as he took another step back away from his Angel and the soup in his hand. “Does that excuse actually work?”  

The smile was faint, barely a twitch of his lips. “Most of the time.”

“Seriously? In a college town? Where practically everyone is from out of state?” 

Lo chuckled, a low sound that sent Remy’s heart racing as his Angel leaned against the door frame in an obvious attempt to appear casual even though Remy could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes. “Most people don’t ask how I know, actually.” 

Oh. Well all things considered, the license excuse was believable. Just not for him.

“And you’re letting me leave now. Just like that?” He said, taking a couple more steps backwards down the hallway to prove his point.

A muscle in his Angel’s jaw twitched. 

Remy smirked, hoping Lo couldn’t hear how hard his heart was pounding. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“You are visibly unwell, Remy.” He said softly, crossing his arms. “I would prefer you stay here until you are better.” His bright eyes seemed to stare straight through his sunglasses and right down into the depths of Remy’s soul like he actually cared about his well being.

Ha. 

Nope. No more Jedi mind tricks here. Remy shook his head, forcing himself to turn fully away, ignoring the prickling sensation of his Angel’s eyes on his back. “Thanks. But No.” He called over his shoulder as he made a beeline for the nearest exit before his Angel could say one word more to convince him otherwise. 

He’d be fine.

To Be Continued. 

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 3, chapter 10

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: death mention, mutilation mention, fantasy religion

The bodies were strange. They were dressed in the tatters of elaborate regalia that marked them as members of the Zakarum high council, but each one was twisted and deformed to the point where they only looked human at the first glance. All of them were also missing one hand. As Morgan examined them, it became clear that those wounds, though inflicted recently, had not been what had killed them. Unusual burn marks spread like roots across the bodies, concentrated in the centre and spreading thin across the extremities. Lightning, perhaps. Phaedra sported a similar pattern of scarring on her hands, just as Telash was marked with numerous small burns and the tips of Devak's fingers were blackened and insensate from cold. If the lightning was strong enough to leave such large burns, it certainly would have done enough damage to the organs to kill the council members almost instantly.

Zakarum was a strict faith with little tolerance for outside interference. They had a particular distaste for adherents of the Order of Rathma, which presented something of a quandary for Morgan. The spirits of the council members were agitated, he could sense their restlessness - they had nearly attacked him when he'd reached out with his mind to look at their bones, which had been warped just as much as the flesh atop them. He wanted to lay them to rest, as was his duty to any unsettled souls, but they could not find peace with him leading them there. Being shunned for his affiliation was nothing new, but this was the first time it was coming from the dead themselves.

"What are they?" Blaise was leaning against a wall, having satisfied herself that there was no immediate danger.

"I believe they were once the Zakarum high council. That's what their clothing suggests." Morgan ran his fingers over the fine silken fabric just once, briefly savouring the texture before lifting his hand away. He didn't need to further agitate the spirits.

"These used to be people?" She came nearer, squinting down at the bodies. "Could have fooled me. What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Morgan admitted. "I've never seen anything like this."

"We could ask around at the docks," Blaise suggested. "One of the Iron Wolves might know something. Do you want to bury them before we head back?"

"Ordinarily yes, but not in this case." Morgan stood from where he'd been kneeling next to one of them. "Devout Zakarumites view the Order of Rathma as a heretical cult, and do not suffer our presence gladly. They will not let me aid them."

"Well, I mean, all the business with the dead is pretty disturbing. To an outsider. It's not so bad once you get used to it, though."

"Their main objection is to our dedication to the Balance," Morgan explained. "Zakarum preaches devotion to the Light exclusively."

"The Light is good, though, right?"

"The Light is goodness and order. But without chaos to offset it, order will eventually turn on itself. This is why the Balance is necessary."

"Makes enough sense."

"The faithful of Zakarum disagree. It is their perogative, but it does complicate our work." Morgan unrolled a portal scroll. "We should prepare ourselves with what knowledge we can gather."

"Wouldn't hurt to prepare ourselves with equipment either," Blaise observed. "I'm running a little low on arrows. Mephisto is going to be at the bottom of this place, yeah?"

"I should think so. This is the temple Tyrael mentioned." It was still strange to think about their encounter with the angel. To imagine that such a great power could require their aid. Well, Blaise's, anyway. She was by far the stronger, and better - or, more precisely, naturally aligned with good. But the threat to the Balance was significant enough to warrant Morgan's involvement as well, however little help he might actually prove to be. He would do all he could to support Blaise to the best of his ability. To avoid getting in her way, at least.

"You gonna open that thing or what?"

Morgan blinked. He was still holding the scroll open, unread. "Yes, of course." He opened the portal to the docks. There were preparations to make.

Cain had a theory about the missing hands. Mephisto had been imprisoned in a magical artifact known as a soulstone, bound inside its facets. According to the stories Cain had gleaned from the remaining residents, the Zakarum priests had split the stone into pieces with the intent of making it more difficult for the demon lord's soul to be reassembled. But they hadn't made the appropriate preparations, he surmised, and they had damaged the integrity of the stone in splitting it. The essence of chaos had seeped out of the stone fragments to corrupt their bearers, which explained their twisted, monstrous forms.

The concept of a soulstone was intriguing. Each one was created through magical means developed by the Horadrim, and could contain the soul of a powerful demon. Their effectiveness could be amplified through the conduit of a living body - ancient, forbidden magic, undeniably powerful but with a high cost. The priests had likely noticed their mistake too late and tried to correct it by using their own bodies to confine the pieces of the demon lord's soul. A noble effort, but ultimately unsuccessful. Something had recently collected the soulstone pieces, presumably with the intent to reassemble them.

The implications of that were grim. It could only mean that Diablo and Baal intended to restore the stone containing their brother, the third point of their triad. On the bright side, there hadn't yet been any cataclysmic, world-ending eruptions of power that one might expect from the reunification of the Prime Evils. But the absence of such events only raised more questions. Were they biding their time, gathering their strength? Was there something about the soulstones that was still impeding them somehow? Cain didn't have answers to these questions, but it was clear that they would need to retrieve the soulstone if at all possible.

Morgan asked around, but none of the Iron Wolves were adherents to Zakarum. Unfortunately for the council members, that meant they would simply have to wait until someone of their preferred faith returned to lay them to rest properly. If they even would - their failure to contain the power of Mephisto had warped them badly enough that it was possible they might no longer be welcomed at all in that religion of Light, despite all they had done trying to preserve it. That was a sobering thought, but Morgan set it aside in favour of concentrating on their larger goal.

None of the Iron Wolves seemed particularly interested in supporting their assault on Mephisto, either. Morgan couldn't fault them for that; the power of a Prime Evil was not something to take lightly, and the danger was great. Blaise was considerably less impressed by their refusal. Morgan left her arguing with Telash as he sought out Ormus. Perhaps the wise old mage would share a particularly useful insight before the battle.

Ormus didn't have much to add when questioned, but scrutinized Morgan with narrowed eyes. "Mind your nest," he advised briefly. "The honeyguide is waiting." With that, he turned away toward Alkor's hut.

"Thank you," Morgan said to his retreating back. The advice was in the mage's usual vein, of course. Honeyguides were birds, he knew that much. Ones that were known to lead people to bee colonies, feasting on the insects after the humans had taken the honey. Was he a bee in this metaphor? Bee nests were usually called hives, but no other sort of nest seemed relevant. He puzzled over it a little longer but no clear answer revealed itself. There were more pressing things to consider at the moment, so he set it aside in favour of finding Blaise. Perhaps she had learned something a little more concrete, and he wanted to share Cain's insights as well.

[anika-ann]

What I’d Never Say or Do (Had I Been in My Right Mind) - Pt.1

We Both Break Free (…if We Make It on Top)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count (Ch1): 2050

Series summary: A story in which you officially come back from the dead, Tony with Natasha decide to take the blame for the whole mess and organize a party with unexpected party crashers and Bucky should consider thinking before speaking.

Fic title applicable to Tony, Natasha, Steve and his soulmate (aka the Reader), Bucky and his sort-of-buddy Matt Murdock and possibly few more.

Ch.1 summary.: In which Natasha and Tony go mad.

A/N: This series will be just a smaller thing, snippets set around The Age of Ultron (and later, Endgame). Later will be referred to as WINSoD because the title is a monster.

Warnings (ch1): mention of death and resurrection, mention of superntural creatures (see Errare Humanum Est), language, fluff

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Tony Stark was a ridiculously theatrical person.

While that was no news to anyone who knew as much as his name at least, but he still managed to outlive the legend, the reputation that preceded him.

He left you standing by the door, walked in to gain the undivided attention of the person inside the office and wanted you to reveal yourself in the exact right moment – a moment he trusted you to recognize.

Well. You assumed with a revelation like yours, it was rather hard to keep the drama away. But leave it to Tony Stark that he would blow it to proportion just to have fun.

“Tamara, darling!” the billionaire howled, the door opened only for a crack, so you could hear the reaction. You rolled your eyes, sighed and nervously looked around. The department was empty safe for the woman in the office, but it still made you feel uneasy; probably the effect of having to hide for the past weeks to avoid detection that could lead to a major scandal.

“Oh god, what happened?” Tamara asked, sounding as horrified as annoyed.

“Why do you assume— okay, that’s fair. How’s you hubby doing?”

“Alright,” the poor woman answered, clearly suspicious. “I more or less cleaned up the latest mess, so I’ve been coming home early…”

“Yeeeeah, about that. I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?” Tony offered cheerily.

“Bad news. Always. Let me just sit down-- no, no, don’t let me sit down, I have a feeling I’ll wanna pace irritably.”

That caused the corners of your lips to turn up. You were starting to like this woman already.

“I’m gonna need you to deal with a major scandal worthy of your skills.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere and I assumed as much.” Now you officially loved her – and you saw why Tony did too. Sass and snark; Tony’s language. “So, care to elaborate?”

“Nah, I’ll give you the good news. You’re gonna get some help. I brought reinforcements. She doesn’t have much experience with PR-” Try none. “-but I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one all the questions will be aimed at.”

“Oh my god, Anthony, did you get a woman pregnant?!” the woman hissed, not bothering lowering her voice. She sounded… kinda pissed. Which was reasonable, given the fact Tony Stark was happily-not-single with one amazing Pepper Potts.

“What? No! I have Pepper!” he opposed her, having the nerve to be offended. You smirked, hoping Jarvis caught that one line too. “This is all on Capsicle-“

“Captain Rogers got a woman pregnant?! What the-“

You felt like this was the moment.

“No, Mrs…. Tamara,” you said it the end, realizing Tony never told you the poor woman’s last name, and entered the room. “But his soulmate sort of came back from the death.”

Tamara was a middle-aged woman, with blonde medium-length hair and huge majestic glasses, business suit in a bloody-red colour and lips perfectly shaped in an “O” as you demonstrated the problem at hand.

“Holy. Shit.”

Leave it to Tony Stark he would flee the moment an actual explanation was needed, letting the others deal with the aftermath of his dramatic tendencies. To be fair, this was more of your drama, so…

“Good. Looks like introductions are not needed. I’ll send you the necessary data. Have fun.”

He strode through the door, winking over his shoulder at you and sending an air kiss to Tamara and you nervously smiled at the woman, your awkward side showing when you raised your hand to a reluctant wave before you could realize a handshake would be more appropriate.

“Uhm. Hi…”

The blonde blinked several times, shook her head with an incredulous chuckle and stuck out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Tamara, Antony Stark’s cleaning service. What can I do for you?”

Oh yeah. You’d get along just fine.

…

The story was simple and yet enough to make at least two Avengers very much hated.

Tony and Natasha, perhaps from some residual guilt of which you weren’t sure where was coming from, were determined to be thrown to the wolves of public.

Apparently, it had been all their idea – to have Steve and you kidnapped in the first place by the bomb enthusiast psycho. They had caught something fishy, been aware of it for a long time and opted for drawing the something rotten within SHIELD and company out by leaking early info on where you and Steve would be going to dates for several nights in a row without your or Steve’s knowledge. Perfect bait with nearly perfect surveillance background and safety measures.

Predictably, it had gone to shit and while you had never been blown up to death, which was something Steve had had zero clue about, you had been recovering from your life-threatening injuries for weeks in a hidden facility of top-secret location with way too much security. Still without Captain America’s knowledge.

Admittedly, this tale was a PR nightmare in making, not to mention a complete bullshit. Yet, the Avengers (sans Steve so far) unanimously approved of it. Tony and Natasha would be the first to blame, while the rest would reluctantly admit they knew as well and they had all kept it from Steve.

“You can’t be serious,” was all you managed to come up with, Steve sitting on the couch next to you while the rest of the team, the part that was momentarily on Earth, gathered around you to break you the news. This was what they came up with? “People will hate you.”

“And their hearts would still bleed for their golden boy, who would forgive us in time, especially since we offered his girl a job and an apartment she can’t quite refuse.”

“Wait, what kind of a job?!” Steve snapped, waking up from the deep thoughts he had fallen into with this stupid talk.

“The non-dangerous kind, Steve, calm down, please,” Natasha cooled him off flatly, but you could see her sincere gaze when it met with Steve’s. We wouldn’t endanger her, not again, it whispered. Steve’s shoulders slumped.

“What kind of a job?” you echoed, still worried. You assumed the apartment Tony mentioned was a place in the Tower, not bothering to ask about that part.

“PR. Unless you want to deal with your old job of which I have no doubt your best buddy would give back. I’d just like to remind you how the public reacted to you dying.”

Right. You wouldn’t mind a little privacy and safe space. You liked your old job, but it didn’t seem like an option now. Except… this was crazy.

“But they will still hate you. It makes you guys terrible friends and teammates. Frankly, it makes you kind of… terrible people,” you said slowly, taking time to examine everyone’s face.

“She’s got a point,” Steve agreed, wheels in his head clearly turning in a lightning speed.

“Meh. You should know what Fury’s up to during his ‘the end justifies the means’ periods – which is non-stop. I wouldn’t worry about that,” Natasha shrugged it off, pursing her lips a bit.

“Wasn’t it you who said you weren’t sure how to get her back to the world without having to explain she was literally led by an angel from Heaven?” Clint reacted to Steve, who sighed.

“Yes, of course, but this-“

“-is perfectly believable,” Natasha interrupted him, raising an eyebrow before beckoning to Tony and herself. “Me and Tony came up with the operation – a spy and a billionaire with questionable conscience. We pulled the rest of the team into the charade. This can work.”

“I can’t say I’ll enjoy this,” Bruce entered the conversation for the first time, surprising everyone. “However, it will allow you to walk the streets freely – with uncomfortable questions, yes, but it is a reasonable deal for us.”

“Steve? Thoughts?” the spy turned to him again.

Your soulmate observed his team for a long time, just like you, watching each of them individually, trying to read them as he himself was conflicted and undecisive. Finally, his eyes settled on you, a hint of an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Doll? How do you feel about that?”

The softness of his voice, the actual freedom he gave you when it came to this decision warmed your heart and made you shudder at the same time. You had no doubt he had come to a decision; but the final step was on you and you only. He would be affected too, of course, but this was your life that could turn upside down for like… what, the third time since you had met him?

You worried your teeth over your lower lip. “I mean… I’d really appreciate not having to hide in here all the time, but… I don’t want people to hate you, guys. I feel like I caused enough problems-“

“No, doll,” Steve whispered, his hand covering yours and squeezing firmly as he locked his gaze with yours and didn’t let go. “I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you. They are clearly willing to do this.”

“Are you?” you questioned despite being confident about his answer.

“Do I love you?”

That caught you off guard. “Huh? That’s not what I-…?”

What did that even mean? Did he love— come again? How was this about his feelings towards you all of sudden? Was it time to question them? God, you hoped NOT.

“That the newest version of asking whether the sky is blue, doll,” he explained with a lop-sided smile and you released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Idiot. Sap. Sweet-talker.

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” he hummed confidently. You smiled despite your better judgement. You loved him. And yeah, you loved this silliness too.

“I do.”

“So… are we doing this? Together?” His smiled grew a little wider, the twinkle you adored appearing in his eyes and you couldn’t but squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah. Together.”

“Jarvis, send Dum-E with some insulin shots,” Tony cleared his throat and you felt your cheek dust with a blush, roughly pulled out of the haze Steve managed to put you in once again. “We’re all having unhealthy sugar rush.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Har, har, Stark. Are you guys really okay with this?”

Clint huffed. “It’s not like people will start planning our assassination more than they do already.”

“Tamara might,” Natasha opposed, amused.

“Ah, poor Tamara, I better bring a wine with me when asking…” Tony mused, scratching his goatee.

You turned to the red-head spy, not happy about being out of the loop.

“Who’s Tamara?”

Tamara, the head of the PR department for Tony (and sometimes for the Avengers too, because those two clients, so to speak, often came as a package deal), was currently starring at you speechless when you told her the tale of what actually happened and what lie they had decided to feed the public.

The silence lasted long enough for you to start worrying.

“Are you alri-“

“Angels are real?!” she burst out, nearly making you jump out of your skin with the sudden exclaim. You placed your palm over your chest to keep your racing heart inside your ribcage.

“…yes. But so are demons, shapeshifters, witches and so on, so…”

“Not a good thing to go public with. Got it. I understand the cover-up now. Though people being able to be resurrected would be enough on its own even without the… creatures. My my… we have a lot of work to do.”

“I’d imagine,” you agreed, not having a clue how to do this and where to start.

The woman looked at you over the rim of her glasses, her smile kind, in the Stark contrast to her loud cry only few second ago.

“…you don’t have any experience with PR at all, do you?”

“Nope,” you admitted, accenting the P and looking away, ashamed that Tony threw you into this without giving you anything helpful.

Now Tamara had to deal with the scandal and with you trying to help. That woman was worthy of some serious pay raise (though you had no doubt Tony paid her enough for her to own a villa or something, exactly as much as she deserved for dealing with his shit).

“I’m gonna kill Anthony, I swear…. Okay,  let’s get this shit on the road. Also, Jarvis? Tell Antony to get the freakin’ wine ASAP.”

Oh yeah. You would actually adore Tamara, you were sure of it.

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Part 2

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Here we go! The final part of the series. Admittedly, I’m not sure about quality of this thing, but I’m trying.

Chapter titles are taken from the chorus of Les Friction’s What You Need

Thank you for reading ♥

(I’ll be tagging my Errare Humanum Est taggies, if you don’t want ot be taggged anymore, let me know)