#{ she literally broke her little sister’s nose and that was the final straw }

[keptmanners]

idk if i ever shared this before, but ruby was sent to ericson’s bc she has odd (o/ppositional d/efiant disorder) which could’ve very well turned into ied (i/ntermittent e/xplosive disorder) if her behavior got any worse. thankfully, aside from some explosive behaviors here and there, she’s managed to get her temper under control.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Attention

You’re Jacob’s twin and always get the short end of the straw, but your dad gives you no choice but to tell him why you’re such a troublemaker.

-

           “Promise me you’ll be good today?” Andy asked, looking over at you. You looked back at him and rolled your eyes as you opened the Audi’s passenger side door.

           “I’ll keep her in line,” your twin sighed.

           “He’ll keep me in line,” you reiterated. Your dad sighed, took a sip of his coffee, and watched the two of you start to walk inside the building. “You really don’t have to watch me, I’ll be fine on my own.”

           “You heard what the principal said, though. You’re one problem away from a suspension.” You walked backwards into the school’s doors, making sure no one was behind you, and watched as your dad pulled away. The two of you used to be close, really close. Actually, you used to be close to both of your parents. And then you started growing up and they picked a side. Jacob’s side. All you really knew was that Jacob was the favorite of the two of you. You were known as the troublemaker, the one who was always doing something wrong even if you thought it was right and nobody would ever listen to you about it. You always got the short end of the straw and you were sick of it. You loved Jacob, he was your best friend, but he was your mind’s worst enemy.

           “I’m really not that much of a bitch, am I?” You asked him. He scoffed.

           “The ninth graders are scared of you, y/n,” he said.

           “As they should be. I’m going to history.” You walked away from your brother and went to the school’s history wing, where your first period was. Jacob did have the same class until about three days in when they decided the two of you shouldn’t be in any classes together because you just talked to one another. You’d ended up in the same English class, though.

           You sat down and looked around to see that none of your friends were there yet. Most of them were usually late since they took the bus – not everyone’s dad was the assistant DA. You and Jacob were some of the luckier ones at Archer, or so you were told, because your parents actually cared. You weren’t sure how true that was, at least about your dad, because he never seemed to unless it was impacting him. Today was going to be an example of that, but it was also going to be the turning point.

           “Hey, little Barber, your daddy put any innocent people away again?” Brett, one of your least favorite people ever, asked from behind you. You turned around and rolled your eyes.

           “Don’t you have anything else to be concerned about? Like your grade or… football or something?” You shot back.

           “Yeah. Like how I’m going to plow the shit out of your brother on the field at flag today.” That was right. It was flag day in gym, meaning they were going to drag your whole grade out onto the field and play capture the flag, which gave an excuse for all of the football players the chance to prey on anyone who wasn’t them. You didn’t stand for that shit, but your brother wasn’t exactly going to stop them.

           “You try that and the only thing getting plowed is your body off the field,” you responded with your arms crossing over your chest. You tried to forget about Brett, and the rest of the people on the football team, as they all sat down behind you. They sat behind you in your other two classes before lunch and you noticed them eyeing you as you went to sit down across from Jacob.

           “Why is half of the football team looking at you like you flashed them in the locker room?” Jacob asked as he drank some milk. You kicked him underneath the table.

           “Because I threatened them.”

           “You know not to…”

           “I’m not going to do anything and they’re not going to do anything, Jake. It’s fine. I promise.”

           “As long as you promise.” You two ate the rest of your lunch and went your separate ways – him going to find Sarah, who he had an insane crush on, and you going to your English classroom. Your daddy issues led you to be good friends with your English teacher, Mr. Marx, and you were supposed to help pass out copies of Catcher In The Rye. You were looking down at some meme Jacob had sent you when you literally ran right into Brett.

           “Whoa, little Barber!” He said. You felt your breath turn to pure fire as you sighed out, kneeling down to pick everything up that you’d dropped. “Better watch yourself.”

           “Yeah, you too.” You rolled your eyes and started walking away, toward the classroom, and for a few minutes you forgot all about Brett. You saw Jacob sit down a few minutes later and went to sit beside him, at least until the bell rang that it was time for the capture the flag game.

           You were lucky. You were on Jacob’s team, thankfully, because the person who was choosing knew that the two of you had some kind of twin telepathy. You were against Brett, which gave you the chance to kick his ass.

           “Come on, little Barber. Daddy’s not here to protect you now. You and your big brother are all alone now, and nothing is going to stop us from stomping on the two of you like a couple of cockroaches.” That was it. You’d had enough of the taunting, enough of the teasing, enough of the fucking bullying. Something just rose up inside of you and your fist collided with Brett’s face.

           “Miss Barber!” One of the coaches yelled, grabbing your hands and putting them behind your back like you were about to be handcuffed. “Miss Barber, that is enough!”

           “No, I don’t think so!” You said loudly, lunging back at Brett. He was laughing, even as his nose was bleeding, and he wiped the blood away.

           “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” Brett said. You rolled your eyes and walked to the principal’s office, right through the double doors and right into the actual office. The coach sat you down in one of the chairs and walked off, leaving the principal to tell you how things were going to go.

           “Who am I calling? Your mom or your dad?”

           “My dad, I guess,” you shrugged. Usually it was him that dealt with things like this since the courthouse wasn’t too far from school. He was also a lot nicer to you than your mom was, and the earlier he came home the later she was able to work. You watched as the principal called your dad and hung the phone up after he said he was coming.

           “So you’ve progressed from acting out in class to punching other students?”

           “A natural progression, don’t you think?” You said, crossing your arms against your chest. You heard the bell ring and not a minute later, your brother was walking in there, still in his gym clothes.

           “What did you do, Y/n?” He asked you. You could tell that he was angry.

           “I punched him because he was being an asshole.” You looked behind you to see that he was looking at the principal.

           “Mr. Barber, you should go back to class. Your father will be here soon too deal with your sister.” Jacob looked at you this time. You nodded and he left, turning and walking out of the office. “Miss Barber, you do realize that this is a suspension?”

           “A suspension? You’re kidding me, right? He provoked me. I didn’t just try to break a guy’s nose!”

           “You did break his nose, regardless of your intention,” the principal said.

           “I’m not saying anything else until my dad gets here,” you replied, sitting back in the chair, arms crossed.

           “Fine by me.” The principal left you in the room, probably to go complain to one of the ladies at the front office who just agreed with everything he said because he was kind of creepy, and you sat there. You texted Jacob back, saying apparently you were getting suspended, and he only responded that your mom was probably going to be pissed. You were counting on your dad being a little less angry at you. He always understood. You just hoped this wasn’t an exception to that.

           Your dad walked in a few minutes later, obviously not happy, in his suit and tie. He sat down beside you, barley looking at you twice, and the principal walked in behind him. Then he adjusted his seat at his desk, turned his computer monitor the other way, and glared at you. He looked from you to your father and then back again, finally sighing and clasping his hands together.

           “So, Miss Barber, are you going to explain what happened to your father?”

           “Brett kept attacking me, verbally, until I lost my temper. Apparently I broke his nose.” Your father turned toward you, a look of disgust on his face.

           “You what?”

           “Did you even hear me? He was attacking me all day, he always does and he always gets away with it because he’s a linebacker and they get away with everything,” you explained further, hoping that your father would just fucking listen to you. But he wasn’t having any of it. He glared at you, rubbing his temples, and shook his head.

           “I’m proposing a one week’s suspension for her. Her brother can get all of her work for her, but for the next week she is not allowed to step foot on school property. And on top of that, she’s going to write a letter to Brett explaining that she’s sorry for breaking his nose.” You sighed.

           “Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered under your breath.

           “LANGUAGE!” Your father turned to you and grabbed onto your arm. “I need to get you home before your mom starts to wonder.”

           “But I-” You started to say. But your father yanked you up, barely giving you enough time to take your backpack with you, and nearly pushed you out of the school. His car was parked right in front of the doors and you got in, kind of afraid to hear what he was going to say. He drove aggressively, even by his standards, and pulled into the house a little bit father than he normally would. You didn’t want him to talk to you, so you tried to get your key out. But he came up behind you and pressed his palm to the kitchen door. You looked behind you before letting the door swing open.

           “What the hell, Y/n?” Your dad asked you.

           “I don’t want to talk about it. I already tried and you didn’t listen to me.” You started walking up the stairs, trying to prove your point, but your dad wasn’t in the mood for games. He ushered you over to the couch, all but making you sit down, and you could tell that he was absolutely fuming as he walked back and forth.

           “Why would you do that, Y/n? You already knew you were on thin ice with us. You know your mother was looking at boarding schools for you? So we could keep you out of trouble?”

           “If you’d listen to me you would know that I didn’t just punch him to punch somebody!” You said over him. Tears were coming to your eyes and you knew you were about to break down and cry even though you didn’t want to. You wanted to stop being such a crybaby at everything.

           “So you’re telling me you did this, for what? To get attention?”

           “No, I did it because he was bullying me and Jake and he wouldn’t leave me alone! I just got mad and I reacted.”

           “You just reacted. Right,” he said, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “This isn’t a reaction, Y/n, this is assault.”

           “I didn’t do it just to do it! I’m sorry!”

           “Sorry isn’t good enough!” You stood up then, tears in your eyes, and walked away. You knew that wasn’t what he meant. You knew he meant that you weren’t good enough. He never saw the good things you did, only the bad, so why would this be any different? Why would he actually fucking listen to you this one time?

           You slammed your bedroom door and slung your backpack onto the floor, making sure you didn’t hit your laptop, and you took out your phone. You opened up the text messages between you and Jacob – Week’s suspension. Dad still won’t listen to me.

           A whole week? It’s not even that bad!

           That’s what I said! He hates me J.

           He doesn’t hate you.

           He thinks I’m doing it to get attention.

           You are doing it to get attention.

           Not like that! The blue bubble said that Jacob was typing for another few seconds before you got a ping.

           I’ll talk to him when I get home. Mom said she’d be late so maybe everything will be fine when she gets home.

           Thanks. You shut your phone off, knowing that your dad was probably going to do something crazy like log into your account and try to say that you were planning all of this all along, just to get his attention. You kind of were, but not in the way that he thought. You just wanted him to fucking listen to you about this, to listen to why you had punched the guy instead of focusing on the fact that you’d done it.

           You heard the door open and shut in another few minutes and looked at your phone, realizing Jacob must be home. You didn’t even notice you were crying until you wiped your tears away. You were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, crying, and you were absolutely ridiculous. All of this over a stupid bully, but all of it came down to the simple fact that your dad just didn’t listen to anything you said. And if he couldn’t even listen to you about this, what would he listen about?

           You couldn’t really hear what was going on downstairs, but there was no yelling. Of course there wasn’t. Sometimes you thought that maybe things would be better if it was just your parents and Jacob – no you, no problems. That’s what you were, to all of them, even if Jacob didn’t want to admit it. A problem. A big fucking problem.

           There was a knock on your door a few minutes after that and your father walked in, looking at you on the floor, and he sighed. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs, leaning his back up against your bed. He looked you up and down, noticing that you’d been trying to be quiet and there were little half-moon shapes on your arms from your fingernails digging into your skin. He noticed that you were crying.

           “Jacob told me what that guy said to you.” You sniffled.

           “What, that the kid called us cockroaches? Or said that Daddy wasn’t around to protect us? Or the cracks that he makes all the time and expects me to be okay with it?” Your dad sighed.

           “He didn’t tell me all of that.”

           “I can’t believe that it took him telling you for you to stop hating me.” Your father thought about it for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, and shook his head.

           “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you from the beginning. But I’m listening now, so tell me what happened.”

           “I just lost it. And I knew I would be in trouble because he never gets in trouble, for anything he does. And he does this all the time, not just to me and Jake. He does it to everyone. And I just got really really mad. And then the principal didn’t listen to me, and you thought I was just doing it for attention, which brings us back to the fact that you don’t listen to me. You never listen to me. And the only reason you are now is because Jacob is making you, because let’s be honest, everything would be so much better if I wasn’t such a problem.”

           “A problem? Sweetie, you’re not a problem.”

           “Then why won’t you listen to me? Why do you always assume I’m the one to throw the first punch?”

           “I don’t know. Maybe it’s easy to believe that you’d be mad at us instead of some other kid. But that’s our fault. That’s my fault for not listening to you and believing you. But that also doesn’t change the fact that you got physically violent with a kid just because he talked you into it.” You nodded, knowing that he was right.

           “I don’t know if I’m doing it for attention or not, but maybe if you’d pay me some I would know.” Your dad reached his arm out for you to come hug him so you did, leaning against him as he hugged you to his side.

           “I’m sorry, sweetie. But you still can’t punch him. Even if he is a stupid linebacker.”

           “I know. I just got mad.”

           “You’ll have to work on that.” You both sat there for a few more minutes before your mom’s car door shut and your dad sighed. “I’ll go talk to your mom. Everything’s gonna be fine, okay?”

           “Okay.” You watched him leave your room and sniffled once again, ready to face your mom the same way you’d faced your dad. Jacob walked into the open doorway, leaning against the frame.

           “I didn’t hear any yelling. Is everything okay?”

           “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long to get out! I’m having a lot of family things going on at once so I haven’t been able to write. I hope you like it still!!

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me an ask or a message!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[thoushallnotfall]

God Bless the Children of the Beast - Part 9

Previous // Masterlist

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: Sorry this one was a bit delayed compared to my like, everyday/every-other-day release schedule here lately; it was a busy weekend.

This one broke me y'all. Stick a fork in me because I’m done. RIP my sweet baby; I didn’t intent to get this attached to Razzle what the fluff man! (Fun fact: I listen to Snow Patrol’s ‘Run’ when I have to write sad scenes and it makes it 1000% worse! 👍)

Warnings: Major Character Death (ugh god I was not looking forward to this), Drug Use, Depression

1984

You had initially had some reservations about leaving to go on tour with Razzle and the rest of Hanoi Rocks: worried about leaving the boys in Motley Crue, worried about what it would be like to travel with another band you barely knew, worried about where your relationship was with Razzle. However, after being with them for a few days you had found yourself settling in nicely.

You and Razzle hadn’t seen each other since your first night together, and despite talking to each other constantly you were a little nervous to see him again. You tried to tell yourself it was a good thing; butterflies meant you actually liked him, right? You desperately wanted things to work out, but then what if he wasn’t feeling the same way? What if you were like just another groupie to him? You knew that wasn’t true, but of course you couldn’t help but wonder about it all the way to his hotel.

As soon as you laid eyes on him standing in the lobby waiting for you, you felt your heart leap straight through your chest. When he saw you, he smiled brighter than the sun, and you felt all the worry and fear you had melt away.

Things with Razzle had been going well from that moment on. You were officially dating, which was a strange change for you, but honestly you didn’t hate it. Razzle was fun and charming, and now that you could finally spend time together you found yourself wanting to be with him more and more. You spent most of your time with him when he wasn’t performing, and he didn’t seem to mind; just as taken with you as you were with him. You were both so naturally comfortable around each other–it reminded you of how you were with the boys in Motley Crue.

You were so wrapped up with Razzle you had nearly forgotten to call Mick that first night. You kept that conversation brief; simply telling him you’d made it alright and that’d you’d call him again later. After that you tried to call him or Vince in a similar fashion to how you had called Razzle before: any time you made it to a new hotel you’d called and check in, just to see how they were doing and make sure everything was going alright.

Vince and Mick were always happy to hear from you: Mick would make sure you were doing alright, and Vince would want to tell you all about the crazy antics they were getting up to while you were gone. Tommy and Nikki were another story. They had apparently gone on quite a binder after you’d left; pissed off and hurt that you’d ‘abandon’ them for someone else. You and the rest of Hanoi Rocks weren’t sober by any means, but you weren’t going nearly as hard as Motley Crue, and you were worried maybe they were taking things too far.

You had noticed the partying was getting worse before you’d left, but you hadn’t said anything. You trusted them to know when to quit. Maybe you should have tried to say something; maybe encouraged them to cut back a bit. Now they were going harder then ever, and it was your fault. You hated to think about something happening, but you knew Doc was there; surely he’d keep them in line. He wouldn’t let them get too far out of hand.

Surely it wasn’t that bad.

You never talked to Nikki when you called. You asked for him, but he was too stubborn to talk to you. Tommy eventually caved, sheepishly agreeing to talk to you. He apologized for what he’d said, saying he was just upset you were leaving and that he had been scared he was losing you. You admit you were still hurt, but you forgave him–how could you not? He was still your best friend, and being apart from them all made you realize even more just how important they were to you. You missed them all after just a few days apart.

So when the days had turned to weeks and the boys started asking you when you were coming back, you weren’t sure what to say. You missed them all–even Nikki, with his attitude shift over the last few months causing you nothing but grief–but you didn’t want to leave. You were getting along well with the rest of the band, who were treating you like a little sister; and while they liked to party they weren’t nearly as crazy as Motley Crue, and it was kind of nice to be away from that atmosphere for awhile.

The more pressing issue was your ever-growing feelings for Razzle. The more time you spend with him, the more sure you became that you didn’t want to be apart from him. He was already talking about taking you back to London with them when the tour was over, and to your surprise you had eagerly agreed with his plans. You wanted to go; even if part of you was torn.

As much as you found yourself falling for Razzle, you couldn’t deny you missed your boys. If things continued to progress with Razzle and you went with him to London, would you ever come back? Of course, don’t be ridiculous. That’s the thought that would cross your mind, but you already knew Razzle was planning to ask you to move in with him; that would mean you’d rarely get to see the boys. They’d been your whole life for 3 years–Nikki was the only family you had. You wanted to live your life, but could you really leave them behind to do it?

—

December 8, 1984

After Michael had fractured his ankle, Hanoi Rocks had taken a break to let him recover. You had taken them to a Motley Crue show in hopes the bands would become friends–and because you desperately wanted to see the boys. They were excited to see you; even Nikki, who was trying his best to hide it by playing it cool. They mingled with the Hanoi boys, and you made sure everyone had a great time. They all ended up becoming friends by the end of the night; though Tommy still couldn’t seem to get along Razzle.

So when Vince decided to throw a party at his mansion, he made sure to invite them along.

You watch from the living room, drink in hand as Tommy begins talking up the pretty blonde actress. What was her name again? Heather something–whatever, you didn’t even like T. J. Hooker, it was so overrated. You scowl as she flashes him a brilliant, beautiful smile. You feel someone’s arms wrap around your waist from behind, a set of lips press a row of kisses up your neck.

“What are you up to, beauiful?” Razzle’s breath tickle’s your ear and you giggle, turning and wrapping your arms around him.

“Just waiting for you.” You say, smiling at him. He smirks back, before leaning down to kiss you; you can taste the alcohol on his tongue.

“Were you?” He laughs. “It’s a good thing I came and found you then, innit?” He leans down and gives you another quick kiss. You thought about the first night you met Razzle; how he’d come and found you when you were alone that night too.

“Hmm, yeah it is.” You agree, laying your head against his chest. You listened to his heart thumping loudly in his chest, overtaking the noise of the party. He rubbed your back lightly.

“Listen love, I’m just gonna go wif Vince real quick since we’ve run outta beer–but I’ll be back before you know it, yeah?” He says, pulling you back so he can look at you.

“What? Why can’t someone else go?” You pout.

“I’ve already told Vince I’d go; it’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon, and we can pick up right where we've left off.” He says, running his finger under your chin. You sigh.

“Alright; just come back soon, okay?” You say, and he smiles.

“Of course; no where else I’d rather be.” He leans down, giving you a quick kiss, then leaves to follow Vince out to the car, the two grabbing at each and laughing as they run out.

With Razzle and Vince gone and Tommy busy, you move through the party looking for someone else to talk to, when you spot Nikki sitting alone on the sofa.

“Surprised to see you slumming it with me instead of hanging with your boyfriend.” Nikki says when you sit down next to him. He snorts a line of coke off a tray that’s sitting on a coffee table in front of you.

“He’s off buying booze with Vince.” You reply flatly. He was obviously trying to pick a fight, but you didn’t want to fight with him right now. You didn’t get to see him enough; if you could avoid fighting with him by ignoring his jabs, you would suck it up and do what you had to do to have a conversation with your brother.

“That explains it.” He replies with a smirk, sniffing as he leans back on the sofa. “So what about Tommy then?”

“He’s busy flirting with some actress.” You say, scowling. Nikki gives you a knowing grin, and you snatch the straw from his hand, moving to the table to take a hit of coke. Nikki chuckles. “What?” You ask as you wipe your nose.

“When are you going to stop all this bullshit and just admit you’re in love with Tommy?” He asks, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Damnit, not this again.” You groan, laying against the back of the couch. “I’ve told you and everyone else a thousand times before: I don’t have feelings for Tommy, okay?”

“Uh huh, sure you don’t: and I’m the Queen of England.” Nikki jokes.

“Well, your majesty, you can think whatever you want; I’m not in love with Tommy, and that’s all there is to it.” You say, crossing your arms. “Besides, I’m clearly already in a relationship. I’m happy with Nic–I love him. I don’t know why you keep pushing this Tommy crap when I’m literally already in love with someone else.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t; doesn’t change the fact you’re also in love with Tommy. It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to realize it.” Nikki shrugs. You roll your eyes, standing up.

“Whatever Nikki.” You say, walking away.

—

You mingle here and there; talking with Sharise, Mick, the other guys in Hanoi Rocks. Eventually, you settle back on the coach and wait for Razzle and Vince to get back. It’s taking them longer than it should, but you try not to worry; they’ll be back soon.

You keep waiting, but they’re still not back. The party starts to thin out more and more as the night goes on; guests finding rooms to pass out in, people leaving to head home, some finding others to go home with. And still you’re waiting, the dread slowly growing like a cancer in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually the other guys float in one at a time to join you. Mick, then Tommy, and finally Nikki. They all sit with you, the four of you waiting for your friend to come home. No one says a word about it, talking around the subject, afraid that speaking their fears will make them real. The three of them know it’s worse for you; waiting not just for Vince, but for Razzle too. You silently lean your head against Tommy’s shoulder, closing your eyes as he wraps his arm around you.

In the early morning, you see the lights from the police cars shine through the windows, and feel your body grow numb. You suck in a shaky breath, grabbing hold of Tommy’s hand and squeezing with all you have. Each knock on the door echoes through the house like the tolling of bells. Your hearts sinks into the pit in your stomach as you watch Sharise open the door, two officers standing on the other side. Mick and Nikki stand up to go to her, but Tommy stays with you on the couch; you can’t move. You can’t breath.

You don’t hear what they say, you just see Sharise go down; Mick catches her before she hits the ground. Nikki looks at you, a mixture of grief and pity spread across his face. He comes back to the sofa, looking down at you.

No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear. Please.

“Nikki, what’s going on?” Tommy asks, squeezing your shoulder as he holds your hand. Nikki’s eyes dart over to you nervously, before he quickly looks back at Tommy.

“There was an accident.” Nikki replies. “Vince is gonna be okay, but he’s been arrested. The people in the other car are in critical condition. And Razzle…” He looks at you, clenching his fists as he takes a breath. “I’m so sorry y/n. Razzle’s dead.”

You feel the tears on your cheeks without even realizing you were crying. You look at Nikki, clenching your jaw as you shake your head.

“No; no Nikki that’s not–” Your breath was coming faster, even though your lungs felt totally empty. “That’s not right, he was just here.” You whine, Nikki moves to crouch down in front of you, taking your hands. Tommy held you tighter against his side as Nikki looks up at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but he’s gone.” Nikki says calmly. You look down at him, your eyes spilling over with tears.

“No, nonono, please…” You turn your head and bury it in Tommy’s shoulder. He moves to wrap you in his embrace, holding the back of your head as you weep into him.

“I’m so sorry y/n; it’s gonna be okay.” He repeats to you quietly as he gently rocks you in his arms. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You hold onto Tommy for dear life, afraid if you let go of him you’ll spiral out of control. It doesn’t feel real; your mind tries to rationalize a million different ways it isn’t true, where he’s alright and you’ll be together and all of this will just be a bad dream. But it hurts too much to be a dream; the pain in your chest worse than anything you’ve ever experienced in your life. You’re vaguely aware of Nikki coming up to sit beside you, his hand on your shoulder as it shakes from the sobs that rack your body.

You sat there and cried for who knows how long. You would become aware of the events of the house; Mick helped Sharise get to her room to rest, then had the unfortunate job of telling Razzle’s bandmates about the accident. You heard them all come through towards the front door, you heard them all stop and stare at you as you cried, felt the pity like a wave crashing into you as they looked at you.

A sad, bitter part of yourself would later wonder if they blamed you for this; if you hadn’t been a part of Razzle’s life, he never would have been there, right? You would understand if they did. After all, you did. This was your fault. That’s the thought that echoed in your mind as the tears dried on your cheeks and you finally detached yourself from Tommy.

You introduced him to the boys, your brought him here, you let him go. He was dead and it was your fault.

—

You felt a sickening sense of numbness overtake you after Razzle’s death. People talk at you, but their words sound so far away. Nothing seemed real anymore; like you were floating in a dark sea, just moving from one place to another, never really knowing exactly where you were going next.

You’d gone to see Razzle’s body in the hospital despite protests from the boys. His bandmates were already there when you’d arrived, mourning their loss together. You felt like an intruder; an outsider in their sacred space. But they all came up to you, each of them making sure to comfort you despite they themselves needing comfort. That’s not something you could give them now, your heart so broken you weren’t sure you could even feel anything again.

They told you not to go in; that you should wait until the wake. You’d gone anyway. You told yourself you needed to know for sure, needed to see him for yourself to prove he was really gone. Deep down, you thought maybe you were just punishing yourself for what you’d done.

—

After the hospital, you wanted to do nothing; just keep floating in your darkness, letting the current carry you wherever it may. But you had to pack, had to get ready for the funeral. You were going to London; just thinking about it made you sick. You had been so excited, planning a trip there with Razzle only weeks ago, and now you were heading there alone for his funeral.

You look at the bag of white powder on your nightstand as you zip up your suitcase. You wanted to pack the cocaine that was barely keeping you afloat through this whole ordeal, but you couldn’t risk getting arrested through customs. You would just have to get high before you left and hope the alcohol on the flight would be enough to keep you up until you found something in England.

The coke wasn’t working like it used to; you were taking more and more, but it wasn’t the same high you used to get. You needed something more, something else. You didn’t know what; you just didn’t want to feel this way anymore–tired, depressed, like the whole world was caving in on you. Everything hurt, and it all just felt so pointless now.

—

On the way to the airport, you had the taxi take you to the jail. You hadn’t spoken to Vince since the night of the accident, unsure exactly what you would say, but you didn’t want to leave the country without talking to him.

You sat on one side of a plexiglass wall, staring at the empty seat on the other side. Vince is brought in dressed in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, and is sat down in front of you. Apparently, you were not who he was expecting to see. His eyes go wide as he stares at you from across the glass divider, your face a mask as you look back at him. He looks tired; bags having formed under his normally bright blue eyes, and an ashy sheen to his tanned skin. You probably don’t look much better, your eyes perpetually blood shot and puffy from crying and a lack of sleep.

You move your hand over to grab the telephone attached to the wall, and Vince quickly does the same. He looks at you with pain in his eyes, clearly unsure of what he should say.

“Y/N–” He starts, tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

“Orange looks awful on you.” You cut him off. He looks back at you, dumbfounded. He starts laughing, tears still in his eyes.

“It’s never been my color.” He replies. You stare back at him through the glass. He sighs, “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He looked nervous, like he wanted to know, but was afraid to hear the answer.

“I’m leaving for London today.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. “For Nic’s funeral, and I just, I-I just wanted to see you, before I left. I didn’t want you to think–” You stop, looking away as the tears began sliding down your cheeks. You had gone over how you felt about Vince after the accident a thousand times, and it was always the same.

You knew what had happened was wrong; they never should have left, drunk as they were. It was a stupid mistake. But it was just a mistake; an accident. Razzle had been just as drunk, and you’d let him go, knowing how drunk everyone was at that party–how drunk Vince likely was–and you’d just let them leave. Why should Vince shoulder that mistake alone?

You took a deep breath, a turned back to him.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying I don’t blame you for what happened, Vince.” You say, looking back at him with as much resolve as you can muster.

“Y/N, I, I don’t…” You see tears start to spill out of the corners of his eyes. He looks down at the desk.

“I know, it’s okay.” You say, the first bit of comfort you’ve been able to give since Razzle died. “Listen Vince, I have to go; I just– just wanted you to know, okay?” You say, standing up.

You leave feeling a little lighter than when you came in, though the heaviness inside you still feels too immense to carry alone.

[prep4goth]

I wrote a little thing about Alex "Trash Goblin" Torini based off a prompt I saw online. It's finished, though the ending is rushed and I'm bad at grammar so. I wasn't creative enough to come up with a title lmao

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fandom: They're Watching (2016)

Characters: Alex Torini

Content Warning: swearing, light depictions of violence/gore, mentions of trauma

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Alex began the day similarly to how he’d start each and everyday for the past several months; heart thumping wildly and a cry dying in his throat. The details of the nightmare were unclear. As his heart rate declined, the fucked up imagery would fade into obscured whisps. He can’t remember the last time he woke up in the comfort of his bed. Every morning without fail, Alex came to face down on his couch. Fortunately, it was the largest piece of furniture he owned. He could easily stretch out without even bumping the other end. Sometimes having short legs wasn’t a complete curse. 

Alex, convinced that his bones were made up of 40% calcium and 60% lead, fought the urge to remain in his current position. He felt like a boulder sinking into his sofa. Rolling onto his back, something that should be elementary, required a tremendous amount of effort. His eyes focused on the ugly popcorn ceiling. There was a crack- water damage from his pissbags neighbors above him-  that ran from the furthest corner to the fan. The longer he concentrated, the wider the crack appeared. While he envisioned the crack splitting open and dumping gallons of water on his head, the rational part of Alex’s brain demanded that his body move. 

With an Earth shattering sigh, he dragged himself into a sitting position. Alex rubbed his sore eyes. He couldn’t massage away the dry heaviness that seemed to permanently settle behind his eyelids.  What time did he pass out last night? A glance at his still opened laptop and half empty coffee mug told him it had been an unplanned slumber. He’d probably intended to only rest his tired eyes for a moment and slipped into unconsciousness. Just as he had done the previous night. And the night before that. And so on and so forth. His couch had transformed into his office/bedroom/dining area. 

Alex’s left arm was stiff from being tucked under his skull; a makeshift pillow. The tips of his fingers buzzed. Though, whether or not it was from holding that particular position or the dog bite, Alex had no clue. He curled his fingers into a fist. He watched the muscles in his forearm tense. With a slight grimace, he noted the rippling of the angry, pink marks embedded into his skin. Alex dimly recalled the searing pain of canines sinking into his flesh. He remembered the clink of teeth against bone and the ungodly amount of blood. Alex flinched as if the memory had physically burned him. But no matter how violently he jerked his head, the gruesome images were still imprinted in his mind’s eye. Hand cramping, Alex slowly unfurled his fist. With his fingers fanning out, he shook his hand until the cramping dissipated. It made no difference what he did. Numbness spread from the pads of fingers to his wrist, but feeling would eventually creep back. It always did. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex mentally prepared himself for another day of pacing his cramped apartment, slowly deteriorating his vision via computer screen, and consuming unhealthy amounts of coffee. That last one, however, was only achievable by getting his ass off the couch. As sizable as the couch was, it was destroying his back. Alex braced his hands against his lower back as he hefted himself onto his feet. He twisted side to side, spine popping obscenely loud in the quiet apartment. 

Alex scooped up his phone from the coffee table, thumb pressing the home button. Though, the screen remained black. Well, fuck me. I forgot to charge this bitch. He realized with a weak chuckle. Not that he really cared that his phone died in the middle of the night. He hardly used it aside from emailing clients and mindless mobile games. Alex reflected on how he unintentionally severed ties with most if not all his friends while he plugged his phone in to charge. Occasionally, a film buddy would reach out, but responding to pointless texts was rather taxing. His friends had eventually gotten the memo. They figured he was pretty much useless. 

Once, Alex was convinced the flame of desire he had for creating would never flicker out. He was determined to make a name for himself in the film industry. Being a sound guy for some home improvement show made for middle aged and hobbieless parents was not the end goal, but a starting point. Fresh out of highschool and hardly scraping by, Alex thought it was an incredible gig to dip his feet in. The plan was to save up enough money to move out of his parent’s place and gain some behind-the-scenes experience. He’d graduate to bigger and better things; directing. Plans change and aspirations are grated into something more realistic. Alex had not minded flying from country to country, slinging a boom mike over his shoulder. The fact that his boss wasn’t pleasant, to say the least, or that he could only afford a shitty apartment with cracks in the foundation hardly phased him because at least he had Greg. That bastard was the only thing keeping Alex from jumping ship and enrolling in law school like Alex’s dad begged him to. Then they visited fucking Moldova. 

Moldova was a pair of bloodshot eyes that tracked his every move and reeked of smoke. Alex could feel its glare sorching his back every time the memories began to fade. The smoke burnt his lungs, choking him with shame if he ever attempted to forget it. Meeting the accusing eyes meant addressing the unbridled guilt eating away at his stomach whenever he so much as breathed. The weight of its scrutinous gaze left Alex wondering why he was the one left to poorly recite the witch’s tale. According to the witch possessing Becky, Alex was destined to capture the chaos that unfolded that night. Why him, out of every other person, she failed to clarify. 

The witch’s carnage was the last thing Alex filmed. Everytime he picked up a camera, his stomach churned. He feared he’d lift the camera to his face and see Becky’s warped grin on the other side. Wallace, unfortunately the only other person alive, had kindly kicked Alex to the curb. The footage would never see the light of day. People didn’t seem to question the show’s new host, or even Kate’s whereabouts. Greg and Sarah, nameless crew behind the cameras, hardly hurt Wallace’s pockets to replace with other nameless crew. That soulless, corporate prick didn’t even blink upon hearing that his own niece had met the business end of an axe. 

There was no hazard’s pay, not even after a 300 hundred pound man nearly strangled Alex to death. Alex needed to find another source of income to keep his lights on. So, he started editing other people’s work. The majority of his clientele were grown men screaming at video games and indie artists. Humorously enough, Alex favored editing the least. He was equipped with basics, but found it skull- splittingly tedious. It required sitting in one place for too long and extreme focus- something Alex had to shut his mouth for more than five minutes to accomplish. After watching his closest friends die horribly, however, Alex found it was much easier to be silent. A chatter box to a complete mute in months. Now, Alex slipped into the monotonous mechanics without complaint. The simple repetitiveness of splicing clips and adjusting audio levels allowed him to drift through the week without thought. It was slightly pathetic. He willingly chose to rot his brain on a day to day basis for the convenience of not having to think. 

Clearing his throat, Alex realized he’d been standing next to his charging phone for several minutes. He frequently caught himself falling down a rabbit hole of damaging thoughts. His forehead creased, fingers twitching against his phone. He ignored the throbbing pulse where the scar from the dog bite was. Powering his phone on, Alex didn’t expect anything exciting. Maybe an email asking for an update or a notification from one of his various games. He was unpleasantly caught off guard by the blinking ‘missed call’ icon. Upon further inspection, it was a missed call from Bernadette- an old friend Greg introduced Alex to. 

Apparently, Greg had played gigs at some dive bar frequently enough to earn some “street cred”as he often bragged about. Bernadette, when she wasn’t lugging camera equipment around archaic buildings, was bussing tables at that very same dive bar. With similar senses of humor,  which consisted of constantly taunting poor, outnumbered Greg, Alex and Bernadette were instant pals. They were too eerily similar for Alex to develop any feelings beyond platonic, despite Greg’s occasional teasing. Bernadette was the only person left in Alex’s life that was too damn stubborn to let go. Desperate for some form of human reaction, Alex craved reaching out. He tried almost daily. Alex had typed out several messages to Bernadette but erased every single one. Of all people, Bernadette deserved to know what happened; she was practically a sister to them. Except Alex had no clue how to tell her. Whether it was guilt or fear of her not believing him, his basic vocab always disintegrated. There were literally no words to express the dread and sorrow that hollowed out his chest. Better to not have a conversation period.

Tucked away in the dusty corner of Alex’s brain, was a locked chest of traumatic souvenirs. It was splitting at the seams, yet Alex continuously stapled the cracks closed. He ignored the splintering wood. Any day, the chest would finally collapse under the weight and Alex would be flooded with blood tinged memories. He concluded a conference with Bernadette over the phone would be the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Or, in this case, the very thing that protected Alex from the shitshow that was himself. Alex had spent months building that damn chest. He’d lost friends and proper vitamin D, but was still clinging onto a microscopic amount of sanity. He was alive at least. Breathing stuffy apartment air and with the diet of a broke college student, granted. But that was more than Greg and Sarah could say. 

His phone screen dimmed as he internally battled himself. He needed to talk to Bernadette, yes, but he was terrified. There was no danger in listening to his voicemail. Alex inhaled sharply as if he were about to be held under water as he tapped the message icon. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“What’s up, assclown! “ Bernadette’s recorded voice shouted into the receiver. Alex winced at her sharp volume, but chuckled regardless. 

“I know you’ve been avoiding me since you got back from where-ever-the-fuck, but that ends today. No more hiding out in that closet you call an apartment- time to get rolling, babbbby!” Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Hearing her voice was a breath of fresh air. That feeling of lonely claustrophobia pressing on his chest faded slightly. Though, he was nervous for where this was heading. He pressed his lips into an anxious line.

“I don’t know what all went down over there, but it’s been months, man. You can’t keep this agoraphobe act up forever. That goes for that sonova bitch, Greg too.” Her laugh was soft, but still audible. Alex felt that familiar pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. God, she thought Greg was alive and avoiding her. Throat tightening around a baseball sized lump, Alex pressed his knuckles against his mouth. His knuckles were flushed hard enough that his teeth dug into his lower lip. 

“Did you guys decide you’re bigshots now? Cause, newsflash- that’s utter bullshit.” Bernadette must have meant for her tone to sound teasing, but the hurt was evident in her voice

“I’ve left Greg a fuckton of messages, but he hasn’t even opened my texts. If I didn’t know better, I’d be worried. But regardless, I know you’re back from Europe, so no excuses. Remember that show I do, the fuckin, uh, ghost hunting crap? Well, we’re down a camera and I thought you’d might be interested. Last time we spoke- which was, like, a century ago- , you said you needed a job, so… Here ya go, bud. It’s better pay than whatever you’re probably doing right now. Even if you don’t need a job, the least you could do is call me and tell me yourself. Just so I at least know you’re still breathing.” There was a beat where Bernadette paused to inhale quietly. She was right, though. Their last conversation was brief and impersonal. He offered the simplest explationations; the shoot was canceled due to creative differences and Alex was out of a job. As for what he yarn he spun for Greg, Alex didn’t recall. Probably some bullshit timeline where Greg was backpacking through Europe. 

Bernadette wrapped up her message with a final jab at Alex’s lack of communication skills. In a poor attempt to center his roaring thoughts, Alex rested his phone against his forehead. The guilt that was slowly swirling in his gut developed into a full on Tsunami. For a moment, he wondered if it was possible to drown in it. Alex no longer had the option. Bernadette deserved the truth, no matter how painful. 

More than that, Alex needed to get the fuck out of this place. His apartment had lost its safe haven appeal and felt more like a cage closing in on him. Whether or not he was prepared to handle a camera again was a different story. He didn’t resent the aspect of working with people again either. At one point, Alex very nearly achieved his dreams. It was still camera work, but he was more than likely rusty from his months-long hiatus anyway. He would have stood in his living room all day if he tried to debate why he should or shouldn’t take the job. This meant, on the other hand, calling Bernadette back. And eventually, he’d have to tell her that Greg was dead. How the fuck was he supposed to do that? Alex had survived an encounter with an actual blood-hungry witch, but his heart shuddered at the thought of Bernadette labeling Alex a lying ass and cutting him off completely. 

Finally, Alex worked up the nerve to press the ‘call back’ option. His eyes stung with unshed tears as his heart nearly beat out of his ribcage. Alex tightly squeezed his eyes shut. The third ring droned obnoxiously loud and Alex silently hoped she wouldn’t pick up. But when did Alex ever get what he wanted? There was a soft click, followed by Bernadette exclaiming that Alex was a fucker. 

“Good to hear your voice too, Bernie.” He shot for humor, but the tremble in his voice betrayed his bravado. Bernadette either failed to notice or was feeling generous. 

Before she had the chance to strike up small talk, Alex launched into action. “Is that job offer still on the table?”

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

[kissinvampires]

Eight Weeks

( @dannyd0ritos​ I DID IT MY FRIEND! AND TUMBLR ACTUALLY LET ME MENTION YOU LOOK AT THAAAAATTTT! sorry for the caps i am...exhausted. but i did it. thank you so much for the request! sorry it took so long but thanks for being a good sport and here it is! finally done!!! and gift wrapped just for you! <3)

“Last time you were this quiet, we were 12. Ran down the stairs wearing Grace’s heels, tripped over, and broke your jaw. How long was it wired shut again?”

Klaus sighed.

“Eight weeks.”

The memories slammed into him surprisingly hard, considering the amount of vodka in his blood. He shut his eyes tight and rested his head against the window, his head pounding for several different reasons, none of them good.

~***~

The heels had been a good idea. They had. The stairs on the other hand, not so much. He remembers falling. And he remembers the pain shooting through his head when he landed face first on the landing. He remembers screaming for help. And he remembers his vision going blurry, the last thing he remembers seeing is Diego’s face, covered in worry. He hears his brother scream for help, scream for mom. And then everything fades away.

The trip to the hospital is non-existent in his memory, the trip back is hazy. He remembers a bright flash of florescent lights, and silence, he remembers the silence in the hospital. The lights flashed in his eyes for a brief second, but the silence echoed in his head as he woke up in his bed. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He coughed and almost screamed. His hand shot to his face, or tried to. There was a hand around his wrist, catching his hand seconds before it touched his face.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay. You’re at home. It’s okay.” Diego’s voice floated to him through the haze in his head. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that.

“Yeah okay, poor choice of words. But hey, you can’t touch your face. Not yet.” Diego sounded…strange. Klaus blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. His brother faded into view, he smiled crookedly at Klaus. Klaus tried to speak, tried to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn’t move his mouth. His eyes widened and he smacked at Diego’s arm frantically before pointing at himself.

“It’s okay. Your jaw’s wired shut. It’ll be okay in a few weeks. You broke your jaw in like three places.” Diego swallowed hard, he was having a hard time making eye contact with Klaus. Klaus made a noise in his throat and slapped the bed hard.

“Eight.”

He slapped the bed again.

“Eight weeks.”

Klaus’ breathing thinned, his head was feeling light again, the drugs had nothing to do with it. It felt like Luther was sitting on his chest. Diego touched his arm, Klaus pulled his hand away. Diego looked hurt. Klaus could feel the tears coming, he waved his hand at his brother.

“Klaus I-“

He waved his hands harder and turned away from him, settling himself deeper into his bed, pulling the blankets up over his head as the tears fell. He heard Diego hesitate at the door, and then heard him leave, shutting the door gently behind him. Klaus’ eyes burned, he turned his head into his pillow, a half scream filling his throat as white-hot pain shot through his head. He rolled onto his back, sniffling as he stared at the ceiling. His head full of pain but no voices.

~***~

Week One

It takes him two days to learn to hate the sound of the food processor. Two days. It takes him one day to hate the food that comes from it.

Grace brings him his first “meal” while he’s still in bed. He wanted waffles, she brought him yogurt. Blended yogurt. Why you’d need to blend yogurt further than the mush it already was, Klaus had no idea, but it was gross. His jaw hurt when he sucked on the straw. And for a moment he thought he might throw up, he panicked at the thought, how could he throw up if his mouth was wired shut? He was going to die. He was going to choke on his own vomit and there was nothing he could do about it.

Grace’s hand rubbing slow circles onto his back calmed him. She did this the whole time he “ate”, keeping him calm. Klaus tried to thank her when she got up and once again winced in pain and frustration.

“It’s alright sweetheart. I know. You’re welcome.” She smiled down at him, Klaus feeling warmth spread through him like always. He slapped the bed twice, Grace turned to look at him. He held his hands up, making a heart with is fingers. Her smile widened, her head tilting.

“I love you too Klaus.” She walked out the door, still smiling. Klaus watched her go and then decided he would get dressed. There was no point in sitting in his room all day moping. He pushed himself up off the bed, threw on a shirt and some floral pajama pants, slipped on the pair of heals Grace had said he could keep, and headed down stairs.

“Are you serious right now?” Luther’s voice carried down the hall, he was always so loud. Klaus ignored him and walked into the kitchen. The others all already there, Vanya and Five waved at him, Ben smiled.

“Klaus! Hello? I’m talking to you.” Luther called, sauntering into the kitchen after him. Klaus turned around and widened his eyes, acting surprised to see him. He shrugged and made a comical act of miming that he didn’t hear him.

“You broke your jaw, not your ears Klaus, I know you can hear me. That’s not how that works.” Luther sat down in his chair and glared at his brother. Klaus shrugged and sat down.

“Here Klaus. This is for you.” Five walked behind his chair and set a small notepad on the table. Klaus smiled at him.

“It’s from me, Ben, and Vanya. We brainstormed ways to help you feel better.” He walked away, like what he said was nothing. Klaus looked at Vanya, she smiled her shy smile, he moved his eyes to Ben, the boy stuck his tongue out him. Klaus tried to return the gesture, growled in his throat, flipped open the notepad, drew a face with the tongue sticking out, and held it up for Ben to see. He laughed, almost choking on his oatmeal.

“Klaus seriously. You’re wearing heals again? After you literally just fell down the stairs because of them?” Luther clearly wasn’t giving up. Klaus sighed and flipped the page in his notebook.

i like them

“Oh you like them? Even though they broke your jaw?”

the stairs broke my jaw

“The stairs? How did the stairs break your jaw?!” Luther sounded frustrated.

how did the shoes???

Klaus made a face at him, his hands held up beside him.

“They tripped you!” Luther was almost yelling now.

no. i tripped. the shoes didn’t trip me. i like them. i’m wearing them. get over it.

Luther huffed and crossed his arms. Allison sighed next to him, he looked at her.

“There’s no reasoning with him.” Luther shook his head.

“And yet you insist on trying.” Allison said, scooping oatmeal onto her spoon slowly. Luther huffed again and looked back to Klaus, he smiled smugly and leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as he waited for the other to finish their breakfasts.

~***~

Week Two

He was bored. Bored bored bored BOOOORED. He was laying on the kitchen table, fingers tapping away on his notepad that was lying on his stomach. His eyes were closed, the others were away on a mission. The house was uncomfortably quiet. He used to fill that silence. That was his job. And now he couldn’t even do that.

His eyes snapped open when he heard it. The noise. The music.

He smiled to himself and threw his body off the table, running down the hall recklessly, and ending up outside the doors of the parlor. Vanya was behind the closed door, playing her violin. Klaus pressed his ear to the door, his breath catching in his chest as the haunting sounds carried through the wood.

“Master Klaus.” Klaus jumped and spun around to see Pogo looking at him.

“Miss Vanya is practicing.” Klaus nodded. He grabbed the marker out of his pocket and scribbled in the note book.

I just wanna listen

Pogo looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“If she says it’s okay.” Klaus smiled and knocked on the door. The music screeched, and then stopped. Klaus heard footsteps and then Vanya’s head popped out the door.

“Klaus? Are you alright?” She looked up at him, looking concerned. He nodded with a smile and held up his notepad.

Can I listen?

She read it, her eyes dropping to the words and then rising slowly to look at Klaus’ face again.

“You wanna listen to me play?”

Klaus nodded.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded again, enthusiastically. Her brow furrowed for a brief second and then she stepped back, giving him space to come into the room. He did a little dance, waved at Pogo, and shut the door.

He sprawled out on the couch, his legs propped up, hands behind his head. He looked at Vanya and found her watching him, that shy smile on her lips again. He gabbed his marker.

What?

She smiled outright then and shook her head.

“Nothing. Are you uh, comfortable and ready, your highness?” she asked, smirking at him, Klaus stared at that honest to god smirk on his shy sisters face and nodded again, smiling brightly back at her. She nodded back, and began playing.

Klaus closed his eyes, a calm feeling washing over him as she played. All the thoughts he had running through his head about everything from their father, to how and if he wanted to tell his sibling he wasn’t exactly a boy, maybe not a girl, he wasn’t sure what he was but he really wanted to explore and figure it. He was pretty sure they’d understand, most of them anyway. He was still trying to figure out if he’d care. He could be himself whether or not they understood, but he’d like them to.

Vanya filled the room, and Klaus’ head, with music, from happy to sad, to everything in between. His emotions where all over the place, his hands shaking a little as she finished. He’d sat up at some point, his elbows resting on his knees. There were tears in his eyes, and falling down his cheeks. The music stopped, Vanya paused, her eyes staying closed for a moment. She finally looked at Klaus, her features colored with worry. Klaus stared at her for a long time and then stood up and started clapping. He made some small noises through his nose and kept clapping, his hands hurting a little bit. He grabbed his marker and notepad, scribbling as fast as he could.

VANYA! THAT WAS AMAZING! YOU’RE AMAZING!

She read his note once, twice, three times. She blinked a few times and then looked at him. He wiped his hand over his face, clearing the tears away. When his eyes could see his sister again, they found her smiling. The brightest smile he’d ever seen on her face. He smiled back and wrote on his notepad again.

More? Please!

Vanya nodded and lifted her violin, clearing her throat and closing her eyes. Klaus laid back on the couch and let the music his sister played flow through him, his mind calm for the first time in a long time.

~***~

Week Three and Four

He can’t breathe. His chest is tight. There is no air. In his lungs or in his room. No air anywhere. At least nowhere he’s looked. His lips are chapped, slightly parted, trying to suck in air when there is none. He falls out of bed, stumbles to his feet and then down the hall. He needs to find someone. Tell them to cut the wires. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Ben’s hand on his shoulder brings him back to himself. He’s sitting against the wall in the hallway, knees pulled up to his chest, hands wrapped around his head, making himself as small as possible.

“Klaus? Klaus what’s wrong? How do I help?” Ben sounds as frantic as Klaus feels, his chest heaving. He reaches for his notepad and doesn’t find it. He gasps, his chest screaming. He claws his way back down the hall, practically throws the pad at Ben, in shaky writing his problem lies.

No air. Can’t breathe. Help please.

It had taken all the strength in him to write that. And the letters were still a mess. Ben’s eyes widened and he was crouched next to Klaus immediately, his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

“Klaus look at me. Its okay. There’s air. You just need to slow your breathing down okay?”

Klaus shook his head frantically. Ben didn’t understand, there was no air.

“Hey. I know. I understand. It feels like you can’t breathe because there’s no air, but look at me. I’m breathing. So there must be air, right?” Ben looked at him, all concern and honest eyes. Klaus blinked at him.

“Yeah see, it makes sense. I can see the gears in your head working. Just- just breathe with me. You think you can do that? Big deep breaths?” He grabbed Klaus’ wrist, placed his hand on his chest, and started breathing deeply.

Klaus stared at his chest, watched it rise and fall, and did his best to do the same. His breaths were shaky at first, stuttering in a way that reminded him, pleasantly, of Diego. He thought that Diego would be able to do this. And Ben was doing it. So he could do this. He shut his eyes tight and felt Ben’s chest rise and fall and matched his own breathing to it. His eyes staying shut until Ben’s hand squeezed his knee. Klaus opened his eyes.

“You did it. You’re okay.” Ben nodded, like it was a matter of fact. Klaus nodded back, thinking maybe he was right.

~***~

The voices were back. They always came first. First it was the voices, and then ghosts. But the voices always came first. They were screaming in his head, yelling at him for help, screaming his name over and over and over, like he should help, like he should know how. He didn’t know anything. Well, he knew one thing. He couldn’t breathe.

He tried to stay calm. Ben had shown him how. How to keep that pressure inside your chest from bursting out of you, how to keep it in check. Klaus closed his eyes and pushed the voices away. He breathed deeply, his hand on his own chest feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. The voices ebbed away. His breathing evened out. The pressure in his chest, on his lungs, floated away. His muscles relaxed, his body melting into his bed. The voices were gone. The dead were gone.

He opened his eyes and screamed. An old woman with blood in here eyes was hovering over his bed, the scream was quiet, not able to escaped past his teeth. He shoved his blankets off and was down the hall in seconds, his notepad left behind without a thought. He ran to Ben’s door, knocking as gently as he could with panic settling into his chest like a cat in a sunspot. The door swung open seconds later, Ben looked sleepy for maybe a second and then his eyes were wide, he beckoned Klaus inside and closed the door behind them.

“It’s happening again.” It wasn’t exactly a question but Klaus nodded anyway, his hand on his chest, still trying unconsciously to keep his breathing under control the way Ben had shown him. Ben placed his hand over Klaus’, and moved Klaus’ other hand to his own chest, connecting them completely.

“I’m here. Take your time.” His voice was soft, and comforting. Everything about him was that way. He was the most understanding person Klaus knew. Klaus himself didn’t understand how he’d managed to pull a personality like that out of the hat when they were all growing up under the same father. They’d all gotten, selfish traits, and cared a lot about themselves as much as they cared about helping people. Klaus didn’t understand that either. He just wanted to help most of the time. He just hadn’t quite figured out the best way to go about it. He had learned that making people laugh, even at his own expense, felt pretty okay. As long as they were smiling, that was all that mattered.

His breathing slowed as his mind raced, Ben smiled at him when he finally opened his eyes. The smile faded when Klaus startled backwards, his eyes glued to the door. Ben looked and saw nothing.

“Is it a ghost?” anyone else saying that to anyone else may have sounded mocking, but Ben sounded curious, and a little angry. Klaus nodded, Ben turned back to the door.

“Get out. You aren’t welcome here. Leave him alone!” Ben was nearly yelling by the end, his finger pointing at the door like he was telling off a bad child. To Klaus’ surprise it worked, the woman looked at them both for a moment and then faded away. Ben turned back to him, his angry features softening when they landed on Klaus.

“Is she gone?” Klaus nodded and sighed, any energy he’d had left in him, draining out of him. Ben rushed forward and caught him. Klaus’ knees almost buckled. Ben guided him to the bed and made him lay down. Ben crawled in beside him and covered them both. Klaus looked at Ben in the dark, he was sat up next to him, resting his back against his headboard.

“I’ll keep them away from you. Just get some sleep. You look exhausted.” He patted his brother’s shoulder and smiled down at him. Klaus snuggled down under the blanket, pressed his face into the pillow and closed his eyes. They snapped open seconds later, he reached out and grabbed Ben’s hand.

“What? Are you okay?” Ben sounded worried, Klaus smiled. He nodded, and squeezed Ben’s hand, hard. Hoping that he would understand. Ben looked at their hands, and then smiled at Klaus.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered, covering Klaus’ shoulder with the blanket again. Klaus’ fingers slipped away from Ben’s hand as he drifted to sleep, voices, ghosts, and panic, all held at bay by his watchful brother.

~***~

Week Five

“Are you still in here moping?”

Klaus doesn’t move, his head feels a little funny, he’s been laying with his head dropped over the edge of his bed for almost an hour. He was starting to wonder if he could pass out from all the blood rushing to his head like this.

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Five’s head poked itself into Klaus’ line of vision. Klaus couldn’t see his hands but he could tell Five had them in his pockets, he always had his hands in his pockets when he showed up to be an ass. Klaus blinked up him and shrugged.

“You gonna stay like this all day?”

Shrug.

“All week?”

Shrug.

“All your life? Just sitting in here, moping.” Klaus saw his shoulders move and knew he’d crossed his arms. He popped the lid off his marker, scribbled on his pad, and held it up.

Maybe.

“I figured.” He bent lower, his face uncomfortably close to Klaus’. He looked at him for a long time. His eyes squinting a little.

“Come with me.” He poked Klaus’ forehead and then walked out of Klaus’ vision. Klaus sighed and moved a bit. He brought his head back onto his bed, it swam a little.

“Klaus. Let’s go.” He scrambled off his bed, his head swimming again as he stood and his blood rushed back into his body. He grabbed his notepad, scribbled on it, and followed after his brother. He tapped Five on the shoulder when he caught up with him.

Where are we going????

Five glanced at it and gave him a smile. Klaus rolled his eyes when he realized that’s all the explanation he was going to get. He huffed, but let Five lead him out of the house and down the street. He walked them to a diner, one they’ve walked by almost everyday of their lives, but never gone in. Five waved him in and then followed him. Klaus trailed behind him to a booth and threw himself into the seat across from him. Klaus sat sideways, his feet propped up on the booth next to him. He scribbled on his pad.

So? Now what?

Five ignored him.

He smiled at the waitress who walked up, she smiled down at them.

“What can I get for you fellas?” her voice was cheery, Klaus could tell it was mostly fake cheer, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to fake it that well if he had fake it all day every day.

“Two milkshakes please. He’ll take chocolate strawberry, and I’ll have a strawberry banana.” Five smiled again, Klaus was beginning to find it a little unnerving.

“Two milkshakes, comin right up. They’ll be out in a few, guys.” She smiled brightly and left to put the order in. Five looked at him. Klaus scribbled.

Milkshakes. That’s supposed to make me feel better?

Five stared at him. The waitress came back, all smiles, and sat their shakes in front of them. Five’s had two slices of banana in the whip crème, Klaus’ had strawberries, both were the eyes of two sad looking smiley faces. Klaus smiled up at her, Five thanked her, she nodded and walked off again. Five reached across the table and plucked the slices of strawberries off Klaus’ milkshake.

“Isn’t it?” Five looked at him. Klaus looked at Five, then looked at his milkshake, then back to Five. He scribbled.

Maybe.

Five smiled smugly when he held up his notepad. Klaus scowled at him and then took a long swig of his milkshake. The cold in his mouth making his head tingle again. He shook himself like a dog and sighed. Five gave him a knowing look.

Klaus scribbled and held up his pad.

Okay fine yes. It’s amazing.

Five laughed and then took a giant slurp of his own milkshake. They sat there, in silence, and drank. Five ordered two more and they drank those too, both of them looking out the window. Five pointing out weird things, and people, here and there, but never asking questions. Klaus was thankful for that. He knew his siblings were trying to help, keep him feeling included, but they’d been asking him questions constantly. And it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t write fast enough, and his paper wasn’t big enough, and his writing wasn’t funny enough, and he was going stir crazy in his own head. And somehow Five understood that. He’d only been saying things to Klaus that he could nod, or smile, or shrug, to answer. Klaus scribbled in his too small notepad and then tapped the table to get his brother’s attention.

Thank you.

Five looked at the paper for longer than it could have possibly taken to read it. His eyes moved to Klaus a few moments later, he smiled again, softly this time, genuine. Klaus smiled back and finished his milkshake. They sat in comfortable silence awhile longer, Five paid for their milkshakes, and they headed home.

They walked in silence the whole way there. Klaus not feeling like he should be filling the quiet, not like usual. They got the gate of their house, both of them pausing before opening it, like they always did, all of them. They sighed and shoved the gate open, walking back inside. Klaus felt his mind begin to itch again, but his shoulders were lighter, and his stomach was pleasantly full for the first time in weeks.

~***~

Week Six

He’s sitting on his bed, flipping through an educational beginner knitting guild when Allison bursts into his room, he startles, she doesn’t notice.

“How’s it hangin sunshine?” her voice is cheerful, Klaus squints at her, she looks at him expectantly. He sighs and grabs his notebook, the knitting guild tossed aside and forgotten.

Like a body at the gallows being eaten by vultures

“Dark.” She says, smiling and sitting next to him on the bed.

“You seem glum chum.” Her fake British accent making him smile. He shakes his head and laughs through his nose. She pats his knee.

“I have just the thing to cheer you up.” She’s still smiling. Klaus wonders if that hurts her face, smiling all the time like that. He cocks his head to the side and waits for her to keep talking. He never has to wait long.

“So I need a new outfit, and I thought you might want to come to the mall with me and try on clothes.” Her smile doesn’t fade, Klaus can feel his own eyes light up.

“And if you’re nice, and don’t push any children out of your way when they walk too slow, I’ll buy you an outfit too. Anything you want.” Klaus jumps off his bed and grabs her hand, pulling her up onto her feet.

“Yeah I thought that might get you moving. Let me get my bag and we can go.” She ran to her room, ran back out with her purse, and they both ran out the front door together.

Lucky for Klaus, the mall was almost empty, and it was the middle of the day on a weekday, so all the slow, grimy kids, were still in school. Meaning he didn’t have to push them out of the way, and that he would almost certainly be getting an outfit out of this trip.

Allison dragged him into a dress shop, both of them trying on dresses for almost an hour. The store clerk giving them dirty looks every time Klaus cat walked out of the dressing room. Allison brought him increasingly gaudy dresses to try on until they were both in a fit of giggles on the floor, Klaus struggling to breath a bit but not caring.

The next store was depressingly quiet. No music at all and the employees seemed dead on their feet.

“I wish we had some music.” Allison sighed as she held a top up to Klaus, her head tilting as she decided whether or not she thought it was a good look for him. She put it back and Klaus held up his notepad.

Movie montage?

She smiled that bright smile, her eyes shining.

“I know the perfect store for that. Come on.” She tossed the pants she’d been looking at back on the table, grabbed her brother’s hand, and pulled him out the door.

They walked hand in hand to a brightly lit shop, racks and racks of clothing zig zagged the floor inside, and music could be heard blaring from outside.

“Yeah?”

Klaus nodded and she pulled him inside, laughing a bit manically.

The music was perfect. Loud enough that they didn’t need to talk, so Klaus didn’t have to stop every second and write down an answer, but not too loud for him to hear the jokes Allison was telling. She found an outfit right away. The third or fourth one she tried. But she kept bringing Klaus more and more clothes, and trying more herself. They probably tried on at least a hundred things between them. Both of them dancing to the music as they showed off the clothes. The people working there were warm and welcoming, a few of the girls even suggesting things that would look flattering on Klaus’ tall and slim figure.

They brought them both several more outfits. All of them dancing along with the siblings, their fun must have been contagious. Klaus walked out in a flowery tank top and flowy skirt covered in cats wearing glasses, Allison gasped.

“That’s the one! Definitely!” She was laughing, but she was also being sincere. Klaus twirled around a few times, his hips swaying with the music, the shop girls all clapped and cheered. Klaus thought for a second he might be dreaming. But Allison pulling him into a hug brought him back to himself. She rubbed his back and then pulled away.

“Seriously though, is that the one you want?” She was smiling softer now, her cheeks not pushed so far up into her eyes. Klaus nodded.

“I think it’s a good choice. It’s very you.” She said, giggling and then shoving him gently back into the dressing room so he could get dressed.

Allison bought their things. Klaus tried to pay for part of it and she swatted him away. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket shyly.  They were walking back out the way they’d come, walking past shops, Allison gossiping to him about the last few missions the others had gone on, Klaus was listening and window shopping as the passed all the shops. And that’s when he saw it. The coat. He literally stopped in his tracks. Allison’s voice calling his name brought him back to himself after a moment. He tapped the window and looked at her.

“You wanna go look at it?”

Klaus nodded enthusiastically and they went inside the shop.

Klaus needed the coat. It was black, had fur around the collar and looked like it was all black patchwork. His chest ached with how much he wanted it. He tried it on. It was too big. But he’d grow into it. He was holding it gently in his hands and then he looked at the price tag. His eyes bulged and he slid it back on the hanger sadly.

“How much is it?” Allison looked sad for him. She turned the tag to look at it, her eyes widened. Klaus held his notepad up after scribbling for a moment.

Way more than I have. Way more than you have. Way more than it should be. But look at it.

“It’s beautiful. And it, it looks like you. Like it should be yours.” She looked at the coat for a long time and then looked up at Klaus. He didn’t like the look in her eye. There was glint there, the glint that was always there before she did something she knew she shouldn’t.

“How much money do you have with you?”

Klaus stuck his hand in his pocket and counted, he held up his hands, fingers spread out wide, he opened and closed his hands once.

“Twenty bucks?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Come with me.” She grabbed the coat off the rack and walked up to counter, she set it down gently, the cashier smiled at her. The smiled faltered when he looked at the coat. Allison looked around, checking to see if anyone was close enough to hear them, there was no one else in the shop. Klaus thought it was probably because no one could afford anything in here. He wiped his hands on his jeans nervously.

The man behind the counter opened his mouth to say something, Allison cut him off.

“I heard a rumor,” she winked at Klaus, he held his breath.

“You wha-“

“I heard a rumor, that this coat is on sale for thirty dollars.”

Klaus watched the man’s world rewrite itself and then watched him smile brightly at them and nod. Allison grabbed Klaus’ money out his hand and threw ten of her own on the pile.

“You two picked a great day to come in. This is a steal.” He slid the coat into a bag and handed it over the counter to them.

“Oh I know. We got so lucky!” Allison sang as she laced her fingers with Klaus’ and pulled him out the door.

They practically ran out of the mall, laughing and screaming in that manic sort of way. Klaus was almost always living in that manic state, but he liked seeing Allison there too, she very rarely let loose and had fun these days. It was hard in their house, to have fun, to be who you truly are, Klaus understood. And he was grateful that he could always be one hundred percent himself when he was with Allison. Even if she did get grumpy at him sometimes for borrowing her clothes without asking.

They ran all the way to their street and then slowed down, walking leisurely, their bags swinging at their sides, arms linked together.

“Don’t tell dad I did that.” Her voice was quiet. Klaus looked at her, his brow furrowed, he shook his head. Her smile came back a little. He grabbed his notepad and scribbled.

I would never. Ever. Tell him.

She smiled, a little sadly. He scribbled some more.

My lips are sealed. Literally. They’re sealed. Get it?

He pointed to his mouth, then made little jazz hands and smiled dumbly. She laughed, loudly. The way he liked her laughing. Her laugh was contagious, her smile was too, but there was something about her laugh, the way it bubbled out of her, like she wasn’t expecting it but was delighted about it. Klaus laughed as much as he could with wires wrapped around his jaw. She looked at him for a long time, her hand coming to the side of his face, asking without asking if it still hurt. Klaus shrugged, held up his fingers and moved them close together. It hurt a little. But not as bad as before.

She moved her thumb over his jaw carefully, gently, and then pulled him into a hug. She pulled back without a word and linked their arms together again as they continued walking. Her fingers drumming out a little beat on his arm. He looked down at her and smiled, she looked happy. Her soft smile looked genuine. Not like the big fake one she’d been wearing when she’d come into his room.

They walked to the gates and stopped in front of them, pausing before going in. Klaus stood there next to his sister, looking up at their home that never really felt like home, and thought that maybe she’d needed a day out with him as much he’d needed a day out with her. And even if that wasn’t true. He was glad that she was there for him. And he found himself wishing, not for the first time in the last few weeks, that he could pull the wires out of his mouth so he could tell his sister just how much this day had meant to him.

~***~

Week Seven

He was in pain. His jaw ached. He tried massaging the pain out, but every time he touched his face pain shot through it like lightening. He was laying on the couch downstairs, in the room next to where Vanya was playing. The music was helping him ignore the pain a bit, but not enough. He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself tight, eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the pain. His eyes sprang open as he was pulled off the couch suddenly.

Luther was standing there grinning at him. Klaus did not grin back. He grabbed his notepad roughly, tearing a page, and scribbled. He held it up to for Luther to see, glaring at him.

Leave me alone.

“Aww come on Klaus, it’s almost time for the wires to come out. You can train a little with us.” Luther teased, he took a step toward Klaus, he backed up quickly, nearly falling over the couch. He scribbled more, glancing nervously at Luther while he wrote.

I am in pain. Please. Leave me alone.

Klaus shook the pad a little when he held it up, for emphasis. He could see in Luther’s eyes that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. His shoulders drooped as he looked at his brother, always ready to fight, to train.

“Klaus it’s been seven weeks, you should be practically healed. We all get hurt on missions sometimes. You know what dad says. Work through the pain.” Luther smiled at him, actually smiled, while reciting their father’s words back at Klaus. Luther took a step forward and Klaus turned and ran. His notebook slid across the floor, the page he’d torn fluttering slowly to the ground after it. Luther chased him. Klaus had known he would. He always did. But Klaus had never had the nerve to stare him down. He always ran. And Luther always chased him.

It took Luther maybe a minute to catch his brother. He had Klaus pinned to the couch so fast that Klaus felt dizzy. His jaw was throbbing. Tears in his eyes as Luther pressed him into the couch.

“Hey!”

Klaus’ whole body jumped at the yell. Luther looked over his shoulder. Klaus craned his neck to see who it was, but couldn’t see, he was pressed into the couch at a weird angle and could barely move.

“Can you read?” Klaus sighed when Diego’s voice finally registered in his aching head. Klaus saw Luther’s confused expression.

“What?”

“Can. You. Read?” Diego stomped closer, taking a step for every word he growled, shoving Klaus’ notebook in Luther’s face.

“Yeah…” Luther shrugged. Diego’s hand fell hard on Luther’s shoulder.

“Get off him.”

“I-“

“NOW!” Klaus flinched again, only because the shout hurt his head. Luther’s grip loosened, and Klaus took the opening. He surged upwards, shoving his brother off of him with all the energy he could muster. Luther stumbled backwards but didn’t fall. Klaus grabbed his notebook out of Diego’s hand and scribbled so hard the marker squeaked against the paper.

Leave me. THE FUCK. ALONE!!!

He ripped the page out and shoved it into Luther’s chest as he stormed past him out of the room. He felt someone following him, he glanced back, saw it was Diego, and kept walking. Diego walked him to his room, his hand falling on Klaus’ shoulder gently when they got there. Klaus turned to look at him, his cheeks feeling hot, embarrassed about the tears on his face. Everyone else was always braver than him. Diego was frowning. Or maybe he wasn’t, Klaus had trouble telling with him sometimes.

“You okay?” his voice was soft, Klaus smiled, Diego usually only talked that was when he was talking to mom. Klaus nodded, and grabbed his marker.

Thanks

Diego nodded, smiled awkwardly, and walked away. Klaus watched him duck into his own room and then closed his door. He flopped onto his bed and tried not to move, tried to keep as still as possible to get the throbbing in his head to stop.

~***~

The soft knock on his door woke him from his light sleep. He groaned and pushed himself out of bed. He opened the door slowly, his eyes narrowing when he saw Luther standing there.

“Hey. I’m sorry about earlier. I just, I get carried away. Are you- Does it still hurt?” Klaus had never seen Luther looking so shy before, not when talking to him at least. Klaus gave one nod. Luther grimaced.

“I’m sorry. But um, I thought maybe I could help?”

Klaus stared at him, Luther didn’t say anything. Klaus waited a few more seconds, sighed, and turned to get his notepad.

Help how?

“Oh! Um, well, I thought maybe you could come to my room and we could listen to a few records. Vanya said music might help. So I looked through my records and sorted out some of the softer ones. You don’t have to, I just thought-“

Klaus put his hand on Luther’s arm to stop him. Luther looked at him, he looked worried. Klaus smiled at him and nodded.

“Yeah? Really?” Luther’s face had brightened already. Klaus laughed out his nose and grabbed his marker.

Yes really. But if you make me nod anymore I’m gonna smack you.

Luther smiled at him, Klaus smiled back, and followed his brother down the hall.

Luther motioned for him to sit on the bed. Klaus sat down gently, looking up at all the model airplanes Luther had built and hung in his room. Klaus didn’t come in here much. He’d only been in here maybe a few times, he’d pop his head in from time to time to wake his brother for breakfast, or bring him down for dinner, but other than that, he didn’t spend much time here.

It was cozy, in a…boring, kind of way. He moved his attention to Luther, who was carefully moving the needle onto his record, and thought that his room suited him just fine. Boring in some areas, and maybe boring wasn’t the right word. Plain was probably better. Plain in some areas with bright spots of color under the surface. The bright spots in the room were his wall of records. His music taste was all over the map. But he always seemed to know the right song to play after a mission. The perfect song to make all of his sibling feel better. It was one of his unspoken talents, his music, and the way he used it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Klaus startled and shook his head gently, waving his hand dismissively at his brother. Luther made a face but took the dismissal and sat on the floor by Klaus feet. Klaus settled down on the bed, laying on his side, listening to the soft music filling the room. He watched his brother nod his head to the beat, and felt the pain in his jaw ebbing slowly away.

~***~

Week Eight

Someone…was doing his chores. For the past week he’d wake up, eat breakfast, nap before lunch, eat lunch, go to do his chores, and find them already done. A week, this had been happening, and he still hadn’t figured out who was doing it. At first, he’d thought maybe it was mom, but he’d followed her around all day, watching her do her chores, and nada, it definitely wasn’t her.

He’d tried following around a few of the others but he’d gotten bored, he’d actually fallen asleep a few times. But he was determined. He would sneak around this house all day if he had too. They’d just finished lunch, and usually he’d go upstairs, hang in his room for a bit until mom got the dishes cleaned, he didn’t like to be in the way. Today he stayed in the kitchen, helped her dry, and put them away. She smiled down at him, even kissed his forehead before going to do the laundry.

Klaus smiled proudly at himself and then heard the rustling upstairs, someone was in the bathroom, he was supposed to be in the bathroom. He was supposed to be cleaning it. He ran up the stairs carefully and burst through the door, no one was there. He looked around the bathroom, it was shining. He stared at the shower curtain for a moment, pretended he was leaving, and then turned back and lunged at the curtain, pulling it aside.

Nothing.

He threw his hands up. What the fuck was going on? He narrowed his eyes and listened closely to the sounds of the house around him. He’d gotten very good at listening to the others. Not in a creepy way, just, he had a habit of talking to himself when he was alone. That habit had been temporarily nipped in the bud, so he’d started focusing on the other sounds in the house.

He could hear Luther in his room, music playing quietly, Allison was dancing next door, her feet moving quickly and nimbly over the floor. Vanya was downstairs, playing a small melody over and over, learning a new song, or writing one. Five was out back jumping around the courtyard. Ben was reading on his bed, Klaus couldn’t hear that, he’d just seen him when he’d run down the hall. That just left... Diego.

Klaus closed his eyes and listened. He pictured himself walking through the house. Thinking about all the chores he’d normally be doing. The bathroom was already clean. He and mom had done the dishes. He heard a thud in one of the training rooms and his eyes shot open, he was supposed to organize the weapons they used for training. He ran back down stairs, slid across the kitchen, and burst into the training room. It was empty.

He stood there panting. Looking around the room for a place Diego might be hiding. He walked briskly to the tall weapons cabinet in the corner and pulled the door open. It was empty. Well, it wasn’t empty, it was full of weapons, just not Diego. He eyed the weapons; all the knives had been organized from smallest to biggest. Klaus rolled his eyes, Diego wasn’t even being subtle, how had he not figured this out sooner. Klaus sighed and set to listening again.

Vanya had moved to the study and was pulling books off the shelves, about to set to work on some of her painfully organized note taking no doubt. Klaus cringed at the thought, he’d watched her take notes one day, tried to do it himself. His paper had ended up covered in doodles. Doodles which he’d presented to Vanya as a gift, she’d laughed at him, but he knew for a fact she had those doodles pinned to her wall in her room. He smiled at the thought and then shook his head, he needed to focus.

His eyes snapped open as he remembered, the attic, he was supposed to “clean” it. Cleaning the attic just meant moving things around so it looked like there was more room. He sighed and headed back upstairs, not running this time. His jaw was beginning to ache again. He couldn’t wait to be able to open his mouth. Not even to talk. Just to move it. He pushed the attic door open to find Diego sat on the floor, looking though an old trunk. Klaus cleared his throat and Diego startled, turning to look at him, guilt all over his face. Klaus smiled at him and fished the marker out of his pocket.

You’ve been doing my chores

Diego shrugged and went back to the trunk.

“Maybe I have. So what?” he tossed the things in his hands back into the trunk and closed it, coughing a little at the cloud of dust that plumed there. Klaus knelt down next to him and scribbled some more.

Why? I can do my own chores… when I remember them

Diego snorted. He patted the trunk and motioned to Klaus, he helped his brother shove it into the corner.

“I know you can. I just didn’t want you to be…stressed. Your jaw was hurting last week.” He wiped his hands on his pants, dust prints staining the dark material. Klaus scribbled.

I only have one week left!!! You’re helping me NOW???

His eyes were wide as he looked at his brother, he was smiling, he was pretty sure he was anyway. His mouth had been going numb a lot lately. Diego looked a little sheepish. He grabbed a few things off the floor and walked them to the other side of the room.

“I just didn’t want you to be stressed. I was just trying to help. I w-won’t anymore if you don’t w-want me to.” He dropped the things he’d been holding, coughing again at the dust. Klaus sighed and watching his brother stare at the floor. He walked over and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder, the way Diego always did to him.

He tried to thank him without saying it. He was so tired of writing everything in his stupid notepad. He wanted to be able to talk to people again. He opened his lips so the sound could get out and did his best to say thank you. It didn’t really sound like words. It was hard to make things sound right when your jaw wouldn’t move at all. But he did his best. Diego smiled up at him and nodded. Klaus smiled at him and began helping him move things around the room.

They stayed up there until it was time for dinner, shoving things around the room, moving things from corner to corner. Klaus asked Diego to tell him about the last few missions they’d gone on. Diego did so, embellishing the stories in all the right places, making Klaus laugh when he pictured the scenes. They got the room looking pretty good, the floor was mostly clean, some of the dust seemed like a permanent fixture, refusing to leave no matter how many times they swept it up. They stood in the doorway looking at their job well done, and then raced each other down the stairs when Grace rang the dinner bell.

~***~

“I’ll take you.”

Klaus almost jumped out of his skin. He’d been waiting outside their father’s office for almost an hour. They were supposed to be going to the hospital to get Klaus’ wires taken out. He hadn’t heard anything from his father the entire time he’d been standing out there. He turned to see Diego standing there, looking a bit angry. Klaus furrowed his brow.

“I was there when they put them in, kind of. They had to have seen me when we brought you in. It should be fine. We’ll just tell them that our parents were working and couldn’t take off to bring you in. It’ll be fine. We can bring Allison if we need to.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Klaus shook his head but walked to the door.

“Just us then?” Diego asked, following close behind him. Klaus nodded, Diego nodded back, pulled the door open, and followed Klaus out into the sunshine.

The doctor and nurses looked at them strangely at first, and then accepted their story and let Diego come in with Klaus. They were waiting for the doctor to come back with his tools. Klaus’ foot was bouncing where he was sat on the edge of a bed. Diego walked over and sat next to him, bumping his knee against Klaus’, the bouncing slowed a little.

“Are you nervous?” he glanced at Klaus.

Klaus swallowed hard and grabbed his marker.

I’m scared

“What are you scared of? They’re takin ‘em out.”

Klaus scribbled frantically.

But what if they don’t? what if something’s wrong and they have to rewire it and I have to stay like this forever?

He felt his chest getting heavy, like it had those few weeks ago, when Ben had helped him. Diego read his words quickly and frowned at him. It wasn’t a pity frown, it was the look he got when he wanted to help someone but didn’t quite know what to do. Footsteps outside the door made Klaus jump, Diego grabbed his hand and held it tight.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He whispered as the nurse opened the door, she held it open and the doctor followed her in, large silver tray in his hands. Diego gave his hand a squeeze and Klaus tried to stay calm.

Everything was fine of course. Klaus had panicked for nothing. The wires came out fine. A little painful, but Diego squeezed his hand really hard every time the doctor pulled so he wouldn’t focus on it. Klaus would never be able to tell him how grateful he was for that. The doctor was massaging his jaw, pressing his fingers here and there.

“Alright. I want you to open your mouth very slowly for me okay?” His voice had that lilt to it that doctors always used when they talked to children. Klaus nodded and did as he was told. His jaw popped twice as he opened it, Diego’s eyes widened, but Klaus sighed. The doctor smiled.

“Felt good huh? There was a lot of tension built up in there. It’ll probably pop like that for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks. Until it gets back to normal.” His hands were still on Klaus’ faces, feeling around his jaw as Klaus opened and closed his mouth slowly.

“You’re gonna want to start with soft foods. Work up to the food that requires a lot of chewing. But other than that, I think you’re all set kiddo.” He moved his hands away from Klaus and smiled. The nurse was smiling too. Klaus nodded, out of habit, he cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” His throat croaked the words, but he’d spoken. For the first time in eight weeks, he’d spoken. Diego gave his hand a gentle, final, squeeze and let go.

“You are very welcome. I’ll let Maria here walk you fella’s out. If anything feels weird or you have any questions just call the hospitals main number and ask for Dr. Roberts, hopefully I’ll be able to help you out.” He walked to the door, gave them a wave, a disappeared down the hall. Maria walked them to the front door, she wanted to make sure they didn’t get lost on the way out. As they walked through the maze of hallways, Klaus was glad for it, he’d never have been able to find his way out. Klaus and Diego waved over their shoulder at her and then started the walk home.

Klaus kept moving his jaw, opening it slowly and closing it again. It popped a few more times.

“That sounds so gross bro.” Diego said with a grimace. Klaus laughed. Actually laughed. Mouth open, head back, laughed. Diego rolled his eyes.

“God that felt good. It all feels good. It feels weird to talk though. After not doing it for so long. Does my voice sound the same? Does it sound deeper to you? Oh my god did I go through puberty while my mouth was wired shut? How fucking typical would that be.” He huffed and crossed his arms. Diego was staring at him.

“What? What are you staring at? Oh my god did my voice actually drop? Is that why you’re staring?” Diego snorted and shook his head. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

“It’s good to have you back.”

He glanced at Klaus, just for a second. They stopped in front of the gate, looking up at their house. Both of them pausing before going back in. Klaus looked at Diego and smiled the best mischievous smile he could muster.

“It’s good to be back.” He wiggled his eyebrows at his brother and they both raced into the house, Klaus announcing their return at the top of his lungs.

~***~

Present Day

“Eight glorious weeks of bliss.”

Diego didn’t sound particularly convincing. Klaus wondered if he remembered taking him to the hospital. Wondered if he remembered holding his hand cuz he was scared. Wondered if he remembered telling him he was glad he was back to his usual chatty self. But it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Nothing did.

Klaus spots it through the window and perks up. He tells Diego to let him out. And he does. He calls after him though, trying to make sure he’s okay. Klaus doesn’t answer. He needs something stronger than the vodka in his bottle. Something smoother. He doesn’t hear Diego pull away, but he blames that on the alcohol fogging his brain. He shoves the door to the bar open and walks into the gloom. 

~

~

~

Tag list: @american-phycho​ @nightstargalaxy​ @saturnsocoolioyep​ @hey-its-park​ @pharahfly​ @allison-applesauce​ @plantaghost​ @diego2hargreeves​ @ur-a-lizard-hairy​ @depressedcoffeebean​ @sammyimpala-67​ @da5haexowin​ @menage-gay-trios​

[meggz0rz]

The It Couple - Valentine’s Day Special!

(art by @file13thetrashcan)

IT’S BACK, BITCHES

This one is a gift for my beloved friend @ideasthatbuildcities, to thank her for being so wonderful and for supporting my work from the very beginning. So here it is - a special chapter from my very first Inuyasha story, “The It Couple!” If you haven’t read it and you’d like to, you can find it..

HERE!

So without further ado...

THE IT COUPLE VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL!

Or, alternatively: SUPLEXES AND THE POWER OF ‘NOPE’

“Kanna, do we have to?” Kohaku grumbled, thumping his chin onto the table surface and fixing her with his best childish pout. “I never agreed to this.”

His girlfriend took a loud, bubbly sip through her straw and set her now-empty soda down, fixing him with that deathly serious stare over the lenses of her black-rimmed reading spectacles. “Do you hate Inuyasha? Do you hate Kagome?” She leaned forward, her whisper barely audible over the hum of noise in the university food court. “Do you hate your sister?”

What the hell kind of question - “Of course I don’t!”

Her dark eyes narrowed before returning to her enormous textbook. “Alright, then.”

“I just - I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day, Kanna,” Kohaku protested, sliding his hand forward over the table to cover hers, “And it’s our third year together. Shouldn’t we, you know, spend a little time, just the two of us? I was gonna make us a nice dinner, and maybe rent one of your favorite movies and just curl up on the couch…”

“We are perfectly capable of enjoying each other’s company every other day of the year,” Kanna said, not looking up from the text she was perusing but intertwining her fingers with his nonetheless, “Valentine’s Day is a scam invented to sell greeting cards. It’s utterly meaningless. I don’t need a holiday to encourage my affection for you, dearest.” A light squeeze of his hand, though her expression never changed.

Kohaku sighed. Once again, her logic was starting to win out. It always did. It was the thing about her that he admired most, and the thing that most often would drive him to near insanity.

“So we’re stuck babysitting my nieces and those two crazy Takahashi kids, while everyone else gets to go out and have fun?”

Kanna was still reading. Research for a doctoral thesis was always intense, Kohaku knew, but Kanna’s commitment to her academic career was incredible, even by those standards. He waited patiently for her to finish her paragraph, and the silence between them was interrupted only by the irritating squeak of a highlighter dragged across the page, until she finally sat back and looked up at him again, removing her reading glasses.

“You’re welcome to join the others at whatever loud, expensive nightclub they end up at,” she said quietly, and though the statement would have seemed harsh and blunt to any other listening ears, he knew she was just speaking plainly. As she always did. Kanna language. “I made a promise to Kagome. And if everyone broke promises society would crumble and fall. Besides, they have a better home-theatre setup than we do.”

“You literally only said yes for the surround sound and the reclining plush seats.” Kohaku broke into a small smile as the realization dawned on him.

Kanna didn’t return the smile, but if she had it would have honestly terrified him and made him wonder what sort of alternate universe he’d woken up in. “You also seem to be underestimating the benefit of watching small children who go to sleep early in the evening. I still have an entire wing of the house for my own particular use, if you’ll recall.” She looked off in the distance, as if lost in thought. “Kagome bought me custom furniture when I moved in. All black.”

Kohaku felt the heat flush up the back of his neck, and as he reached up to tug at his collar, he realized his hands were trembling.

Kanna noticed the tremor too. “Is that a brain damage tremor or an I-love-Kanna tremor?”

Kohaku snorted with laughter. Only you would say it that way. And I adore you for it. In a world where everyone else shied away from the subject, she would always just ask him about it point-blank.

“Probably both,” he laughed. The tremor slowed and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“AXEL!”

Kagome paused, frowned, and sat back from her laptop, craning her head over her shoulder. The house had been quiet for a few blessed moments, with Inuyasha in his office answering emails from god-knows-who and the kids playing with their toys very nicely and sweetly. So of course, she’d decided to get some much-needed editing work done before they went out for Valentine’s Day tonight. And of course, quiet in the Takahashi household usually meant something insane was about to happen.

With a heavy sigh and a chuckle to herself, she stood up and followed her husband’s voice down the hallway, around the corner, through the massive living room, and into the kids’ game room.

Mimi was hiding behind the doorway, her twin pigtails hanging sideways as she peeked inside. Kagome smiled to herself and crouched low to whisper in the four-year-old’s ear.

“What happened?”

Mimi turned at the sound of her mother’s voice, her little nose red and sniffly, and just pointed hesitantly, her little cherub face pinched with nervousness. “Daddy’s mad.” 

Kagome ruffled her hair reassuringly and stood to walk past her into the room.

Her precious, beloved son stood there in the center of the room, looking sheepish and a bit glum. And her precious, beloved husband was standing facing the opposite wall, bracing himself upright with a clenched fist, with his eyes screwed shut as he seemed to be trying to calm down.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome said, stepping forward. “What happened?”

At the sight of her, Axel immediately ran forward and threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shirt. “We were just playing! I promise, Mom! I didn’t mean to!”

Kagome suppressed a grin, glancing up at Inuyasha meaningfully.

Finally, Inuyasha took a deep breath and spoke. “You didn’t mean to throw your little sister through the air into the wall?” He pointed at the new Mimi-shaped dent just below the window.

Jesus CHRIST. Kagome’s mouth fell open in stunned silence and she glanced back at Mimi, who was still peeking through the doorway. Sure enough, there it was. A huge bruise starting to form on the little girl’s left arm.

Axel, what the hell! She thought it, but she didn’t say it. “Mimi, sweetheart, are you okay?”

Mimi just nodded, her lower lip quivering a little. She wasn’t crying, not really. She’s a tough little firecracker, gotta give her that. Of course, having to try and keep up with the actual tornado that was her older brother had no doubt given her a spine of steel that belied her mere four years of age.

“Axel,” Kagome looked down at her son, who was still plastered around her waist and clearly doing his best to be cute and small and precious, “Why did you throw your sister?” Even saying it out loud sounded ludicrous.

“A question I’d also like the answer to,” growled Inuyasha, folding his arms across his chest and fixing Axel with his patented stern-father face.

“W-We were playing,” Axel said, his voice muffled into Kagome’s stomach. Kagome gently untangled his arms from around her and stepped backward.

“Playing what?” Inuyasha held out his arms, and Mimi rushed forward and scrambled into them. He held out her arm to examine it, turning it over gently. “Does it hurt?” he asked her, his voice low and soft.

Mimi nodded, glancing at Axel with a guilty expression, like she was scared of ratting her beloved big brother out. Inuyasha placed a featherlight kiss over the bruise, then turned back to their older child. “Playing what, Axel?”

“...Pro wrestling.” Axel mumbled the words.

She’d been married to him now for eight years, so Kagome knew by the minute changes in Inuyasha’s expression when he was about to lose that famous temper of his, so she just gave him her best let-me-handle-this smile and spoke up quickly.

“Did Mimi want to play pro wrestling?”

Axel looked as if that question had never occurred to him. Kagome fought back a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

“You can’t just throw your sister, kid,” Inuyasha said with narrowed golden eyes.

“I didn’t throw her,” Axel said, “I suplexed her.”

There it was. A quirk of Inuyasha’s eyebrow. A snarl curling at the corner of his lips. Down, boy, Kagome thought, crouching down to stare Axel in the eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m having to tell you this, as old as you are,” she said sternly, “but you are not allowed to play pro wrestling in the house. Or anywhere, unless you’re with your Aunt Ayame and she’s taken you to her dad’s gym again. Understand me?”

Axel gave a petulant glance toward the floor. A glance that looked so familiar that it nearly made Kagome crack up and forget that she was trying to do the mom thing right now. “Yes, Mom,” he mumbled.

“Now apologize to Mimi.”

Axel looked over at his sister, who was still hanging on Inuyasha’s hip. He looked truly downtrodden and regretful, and it made Kagome want to just envelop him in her arms and cuddle him, but no, she couldn’t, because that would undermine her whole speech just now -

“I’m sorry, Mimi.”

Inuyasha’s angry expression finally relaxed into general peevedness.

“If you want,” Axel continued, “You can hit me back.”

Dammit, Axel.

“No one is hitting anybody,” Kagome said, gripping Axel’s shoulder tightly enough so he knew she meant it. “Axel, you’re not hitting Mimi, and Mimi, you don’t hit Axel. Are we clear?”

Mimi nodded. Axel just bit his lip.

“Axel!” Inuyasha said sharply.

“I got it, Dad. I’m sorry.” Axel glanced up at Kagome then, those blue eyes of his shining. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll never do it again.”

By the look on Inuyasha’s face, he was buying it just as much as Kagome was. She sent her husband a wink as she said, “Better not.”

“Well,” Inuyasha grumbled as he pulled off his tee shirt and tossed it onto their bed before reaching for the dress shirt he had laid next to it, “Guess that rules out taking the kids to the park this weekend. All we need is for some fucking paps to see that huge honking bruise on Mimi’s arm and then there’ll be headlines for weeks about possible abuse in our household.”

Kagome didn’t respond for several seconds.

“Baby?” He turned and glanced over his shoulder.

She was standing there at her vanity in her bra and jeans, bracing herself upright with both arms and shaking with silent laughter.

He couldn’t help it; he broke into a confused grin. “What the hell are you laughing about?”

She just laughed harder and doubled over over the table. “He - he suplexed her! He physically picked her up and just - “ She mimicked the move, throwing her arms backward over her head, cackling to herself. “I know, I know, it’s not funny and I shouldn’t be laughing and we’re so lucky she didn’t break her arm, but that mental image of Axel just - “ She covered her mouth with one hand and her bare stomach with the other.

“You are terrible,” he chuckled, turning back to the dress shirt and moving to throw it over his shoulders.

“Not my fault he’s exactly like his dad,” she said, “An idiot.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, reaching for the buttons.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Suddenly, Kagome’s hand was on his chest, and she stood there with a huge grin on her face and ran it up and down over his abs. Her touch was light, caressing. “Let me appreciate.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake - “

“Shh,” she said with mock severity, “I just need a moment. Let me have this.”

“You perv,” he said, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers with a mischievous smirk, “Don’t worry. You can have all you want later tonight.”

Kagome’s smile was bright and dazzling as always, with the dimple on her cheek that he loved so much on full display. “Promise?”

He kissed her, and her arms snaked upward around his neck, pulling him closer with a small, delighted squeak.

“Hey, hey, cut that shit out,” he scolded, knowing he likely had a huge stupid smile on his face and not particularly caring, “You - we- have to get dressed. Miroku and Sango and the twins are due here in a few minutes. I mean, unless you wanna go out like that.”

Kagome glanced down at her bra and jeans ensemble. “Hmm, maybe not,” she said with a smirk, “Alright, alright, I’m getting dressed. But you owe me!”

Everything, he thought, watching her as she darted into the closet.

It was so hard to concentrate on the road. Miroku knew he deserved several medals.

The twins were chattering in baby talk in the backseat (twin talk, Sango called it), they were on their fiftieth reprise of goddamn “Wheels on the Bus” playing on the car stereo, and his gorgeous wife was next to him in the front seat in a very short mini-dress with her immaculate legs on full display. And of course, with his wife being the absolute badass she was, she was in the middle of a phone call with a studio executive, not even batting an eye at the cacophony of noise around her.

Finally, mercifully, they arrived at the Takahashi palace and buzzed through the gate. Another seven or so minutes of unloading the kids, the diaper bags, the snack packs (the one thing he hadn’t been prepared for when he became a father - all the stuff they required wherever they went), all of it.

“Need a hand?” Kagome poked her head out of the front door.

“Of course not,” Miroku said, grinning through the bag strap caught between his teeth, his speech muffled, “We’re experts. King and Queen of Parenting.”

“Hey, Kagome!” Sango had both twin girls by the hand and was gently walking them up toward the door. “Is Kanna here yet?”

“She’s on her way. She and Kohaku left right as you guys did, so it should be any minute.” Kagome bent to pick up Kimmy, the younger of the twins, who as of lately was obsessed with her Aunt Kagome and had already been reaching out for her.

“Thank god,” Miroku said through his gritted teeth, stumbling under the weight of all the bags. Suddenly the ever-wonderful Nazuna also appeared through the open doorway, and she immediately took a few of them off his hands. “And thank you, Nazuna.”

Nazuna grinned and disappeared back into the house.

“Any paps at the gate?” Kagome said, peering off in the direction of the entrance to the property, which was hidden behind the hill. Her smile was a little tighter.

“No,” Sango said, “Why? Expecting some?”

Kagome visibly sighed. “We always get a few whenever Kikyou’s back in the press. She announced her new movie this morning, but then again, you probably knew that. It’s sort of you guys’ jobs to know everything.” She turned and led them into the house, and Nazuna, ever ready and devoted, shut the door behind all of them.

“She should be sending you two royalty checks,” Miroku grumbled, “You’ve single-handedly kept her an object of interest in the public eye for the last eight years.” He let the bags dropped and cracked his shoulder. Man, I’m getting old. Just kill me now.

Sango discreetly elbowed him in the side. “Kagome, if you’d rather not go out tonight, that’s okay, we can just - “

“Hell no!” Kagome said, “Oh, I mean, heck no.” She wrinkled her nose and nuzzled at Kimmy’s face. “I made a promise to myself long ago. I’m going to live my life and be happy. Best revenge is living well, right?”

Miroku reached out and ruffled Kagome’s hair. “You’re so mature, Kagome. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She rolled her eyes.

There was the sound of lumbering footsteps, like a stampede.

Kagome shook her head and laughed. “Well, here comes the cavalry.”

And then they appeared around the corner. Mini Inuyasha and Mini Kagome, he called them.

“Kimmy and Ally are here!” shouted Axel, barrelling toward the crowd of them, and for a heart-stopping instant Miroku had a vision of the kid just failing to stop and knocking them all down like bowling pins, but the boy skidded to a stop in his white cotton socks. His silver-white hair was sticking out all over the place. Mini Inuyasha to the core.

Mimi, the little angel, was clearly doing her best to keep up with her big brother but was defeated by her shorter legs. She grinned up at the adults with pure delight. “Uncle Moku!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, feeling his stone heart just melt as he bent to pick her up for a hug. “How are you?”

“Axel spooplexed me!” She held out her arm excitedly, showing off an ugly bruise running down her arm.

“...He what, now?”

“Long story,” Inuyasha said, appearing from the bedroom hallway in a smart tailored suit. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Uh-huh.” Sango had on her skeptical face.

“Hi, Aunt Sango,” said Axel briefly before turning his attention to Ally, who was still clutching her mother’s hand. “Hi, Ally!”

“Yep, sure,” Miroku grumbled, “Hi, how are you, Axel, my name is Chopped Liver.”

Kagome and Sango giggled, and Miroku turned to glare at them. “Thanks for all the support, ladies, really. Axel, I like your shirt. What does it say?”

Axel gave him a look like he was the biggest idiot in the world and held out the shirtfront to display the writing. “It says ‘AC/DC.’”

Well, excuse the hell out of me, mini Inuyasha.

The phone rang, and Nazuna appeared seemingly from out of nowhere to answer it. “Kanna’s here,” she announced, hanging up.

“So their snacks are in the purple - no, the blue bag,” Sango scrolled through her list, brow furrowed in concentration, “and they’re just starting potty training so we’ve got pull-ups, but I’d put them in real diapers before you put them down for the night. The portable playpen has a roll-out mattress, so you can use that, but no pillows, just a thin blanket.”

Leave it to Sango to make a bulleted list for a few hours’ worth of childcare. Inuyasha sent Kagome a smirk across the room, and she smiled back.

Kanna, meanwhile, was listening intently. Or maybe that was just her face. After eight years of knowing the kid, it was still hard to tell.

Inuyasha glanced just behind her at Kohaku, whose nieces were currently latched onto both of his hands and dragging him around the living room while babbling excitedly. He looked tired already. Welcome to my life, kid.

“You’re spending the night, right?” Kagome asked Kanna when Sango finally seemed satisfied that she’d covered everything. “I don’t know how late we’ll be, or if we’ll have to wait for our table - “

“Kagome,” Miroku was at the bar mixing himself a scotch and seltzer, “You’re married to the most famous movie star in the world. If we have to wait for a table, I’m getting new friends to leech off of.”

“Well, anyway,” Kagome sent Miroku a brief look and continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “Your room is all ready to go. Clean sheets, bath towels if you want to shower, et cetera.”

“And no scary movies with the kids awake,” Inuyasha added. That had been a point of contention last time Kanna had babysat.

Kanna turned and fixed him with that unsettling stare. “I’m sorry you think ‘The Crow’ is scary. I thought it was a beautiful love story.”

“It is literally about coming back from the dead to murder people.”

She gave a minute shrug. “You’re the parents.”

“We did it!” Miroku sank into the backseat as if he had lost all feeling in his limbs. “We’re actually going. Nothing went wrong.”

“Don’t jinx it, you idiot!” There was the sound of a gentle smack from the backseat.

“Oooh, do that again.”

“Houshi?”

“Yes, Mrs. Houshi?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kagome glanced over at Inuyasha. He was shaking his head and chuckling under his breath as he put the car in gear and started down the driveway.

As they approached, they saw them.

The flashes. Just a few, maybe three or four, but they were going off like crazy.

“Ugh,” Kagome said, running a hand over her face, “I knew it.”

“It’ll be alright, baby,” Inuyasha said, reaching over to brush his hand over her knee, “One of the perks of living the life we do - exclusive hidden entrances.”

She knew the car windows were heavily tinted, that there would be no clear images in any of the ill-gotten photos, but she still found herself instinctively slouching lower as they passed through the gate.

“Who’s performing tonight, anyway?” Kagome asked, looping her fingers around her frosted glass of beer, looking around the crowded club.

It was decorated much like an old-timey nightclub from Hollywood’s golden age, with an enormous dance floor and a stage with a huge brass band.

“Not any metal bands, that’s for sure,” Miroku smirked as he tossed back the last of his whiskey-on-the-rocks. “Sorry, Kagome. How will you ever survive?”

Kagome tossed her napkin at his face from across the table. “Sango, can I kill him and make you a widow?”

Sango was perusing the food menu and didn’t miss a beat. “I just took out extra life insurance on him,” she said, “Give me one more month so it doesn’t look suspicious.”

“Ha!” Miroku scoffed, leaning in to kiss Sango’s cheek, “You’d never do that. You’d miss me too much. Plus you’d have to raise the twins by yourself.”

“A good life insurance payout would finance an awesome nanny.”

Inuyasha snaked an arm around Kagome’s waist and leaned back against the booth. She leaned into him, laying her head gently against his shoulder.

She was so beautiful. And he loved her so goddamn much. And the night was just beginning.

Could anything ever ruin an evening like this? He voiced the thought in his head.

And then there was a small commotion, raising the general volume of the already noisy room. The four of them craned their heads to follow the noise.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sango spat, her brown eyes narrowed with unfiltered rage.

What was that thing Sango said earlier about not jinxing it? Way to go, you absolute moron.

It was the first time they’d seen Kikyou in the flesh in nearly eight years, not counting passing glimpses on red carpets and the constant onslaught of her image all over the television all the time. Miroku and Sango, ever loyal to their most famous and money-making client, had always firmly emphasized to every single event organizer and bigshot that under no circumstances should Mr. and Mrs. Takahashi ever be seated near or forced to interact with Kikyou Higurashi. And it had always worked.

But, of course, fate had a way of fucking with the best-laid plans, right?

“Of all the nightclubs in LA,” Sango hissed, “She picked this one? I call bullshit. This is no coincidence.” She turned to Kagome and Inuyasha, clearly in full protective mode. “Did you tell anyone where we were going tonight?”

“Of course not!” Kagome said.

“We’re not stupid,” Inuyasha muttered, pulling Kagome a little closer.

Miroku, long finished with his own drink, reached over and took a generous sip of Sango’s, a troubled frown on his face.

Kikyou, looking angelic as she always had, waited for her date to pull out her chair before taking a seat, the skirt of her ruby red evening gown billowing around her. She was smiling at all the attention, all the whispers. The Queen, holding court. Some things never fucking change, do they?

“Does she see us?” Kagome said softly. Her black-polished fingers were awkwardly fiddling with her necklace, and she was staring down at the white-clothed table.

“I don’t know,” Inuyasha replied truthfully, then leaned closer to whisper, “Do you wanna go?”

The fidgeting stopped, and her nervous stare hardened into a steely glower. “No,” she said softly, “I don’t know what her goal is, what she’s planning, but she is not ruining my Valentine’s Day.” She sat up a little straighter and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Fuck it.”

Before anyone else could say something, the music flared up, and the entire club broke into applause.

Miroku raised his hand to signal for another round of drinks.

And here I was, about to ask Kagome to dance, Inuyasha thought glumly.

The music was sultry and jazzy. Definitely not Kagome’s usual vibe (not enough leather and studs and screaming high notes), but nice enough for a change. It all felt very fancy, which she realized was an ironic thought for half of one of the wealthiest couples in Hollywood to have. But then again, we’ve always been low-key, I guess. She snuck a glance down at her husband’s brand new Rolex watch. ...Well, relatively so.

She pointedly refused to look over at Kikyou, so she had no idea if Kikyou was looking back.

But then of course, her estranged older sister made it clear that she wanted to dance, and so there was no keeping her out of Kagome’s peripheral.

How did she find out where we were going? Sango’s right; this is no coincidence. Kikyou just announced a new movie this morning, and if there’s one thing she knows, it’s how to get press attention.

Inuyasha seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was, because he watched Kikyou laughingly get spun around by the poor idiot she’d convinced to date her with a very suspicious glare.

“I can’t stand this bullshit,” Sango spat, now well into her third strong drink of the evening.

“You and me both, babe.” Miroku had his mouth full of some overpriced appetizer and was chewing thoughtfully.

Sango set her glass down and placed both palms on the tabletop, as if she could take no more. “Houshi, c’mon,” she muttered, “We’re dancing.”

Miroku swallowed, looking like she’d just told him she was, in fact, an alien from Mars. “Sango, babe, you don’t dance. You’ve insisted that to me about twenty-three thousand, one hundred fifty times since we got married.”

“I dance now,” she hissed, glaring over at the back of Kikyou’s head, “Right now. How else am I gonna trip this bitch and make her wipe out on the dance floor?”

“I love you so much,” Miroku said, throwing down his napkin and following her out of the booth.

Kagome gave a muted smile at Inuyasha, who in return leaned over and kissed her. “You’re still having fun, right?” he murmured, so close she could feel his breath ghosting over her lips, “I know it’s not our normal sort of date night, but I figured once in a blue moon we could be hoity-toity celebrity people, you know?”

“It is fun,” she insisted, brushing his bangs out of his face lovingly. “I promise I’m having a great time.”

He didn’t look certain, and she knew he was worried. It was adorable. He was such a teddy bear underneath it all.

“I was gonna ask you to dance, of course,” he said, flicking his head back toward the dance floor behind them, “but I’m sure you don’t want to open that whole can of worms, right?”

“That can of worms was never fully closed in the first place,” Kagome said, once again letting herself settle against his shoulder, “I don’t know if it ever will be. Things are rarely ever that simple in the real world. Life isn’t a blockbuster movie.”

Inuyasha seemed to have no real reply to that, because he just kissed the top of her head and raised his glass to take another sip.

And for some reason, when Kagome saw the glum expression on his face that he was trying so desperately to hide for her sake, she felt her resolve turn to steel once again.

She nudged him, and he nearly choked on an ice cube.

“Oops, sorry!” She couldn’t help the laugh as she reached up with a napkin to wipe the whiskey off his chin.

“What gives?” he grumbled, “Trying to kill me, I see.”

“No, I don’t have any extra life insurance on you. Well, actually, the one policy we do have is more than enough. I could live for the rest of my days quite comfortably. Hey, let’s go dance!”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, let’s fucking do it.”

Inuyasha quirked an eyebrow at her. He wasn’t buying what she was selling, clearly. “You know she’s going to see us and try to make a thing of it,” he said slowly, “Why give her the opportunity?”

“I have a plan. One that doesn’t involve tripping her, as tempting as Sango’s idea was.”

“Babe, I know you’re on a mission from Satan right now,” Miroku said softly into her ear, “but could you at least stop with that terrifying expression on your face? And also maybe look at me instead, so we can enjoy our romantic dance and you won’t keep stomping all over my feet with those spike heels.”

Sango blinked away from where she was glaring daggers at Kikyou over Miroku’s shoulder and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m just marking the territory here.”

“That makes it sound like you’re a dog going to the - “

“Houshi?”

“Yes, Mrs. Houshi?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, but you’re getting twirled in three, two, one…”

“Wait, what?” Sango stumbled as he sent her spinning under his arm. “Houshi, cut it out, I’m trying to be intimidating here!” She caught herself roughly using his arms to brace herself and resumed her death glare over his shoulder. “Oh, good, she saw me. I want her to know we know she knows we’re here.”

“Run that last sentence by me again?” Miroku sighed, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his wife’s temple.

“I said I want her to know we know she knows - oh, never mind.” Sango’s mind was clearly elsewhere, but she still leaned forward for another kiss even as she kept her eyes on Kikyou across the dance floor. It’s my animal magnetism, Miroku thought with a smirk. She can’t resist me even now. I am a god among men.

Before Miroku had the chance to whisper something filthy into her ear, her grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened painfully. “Hoooooly shit,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his, “Kagome and Inuyasha are coming to dance.”

“This should be good.”

“How is this possibly good?”

“Maybe Kagome will punch her like she punched you that one time.”

From his vantage point he could see her ears turn a little pink. “You promised you’d never mention that again, asshole.”

“You know I love you, right?” he laughed.

“I know, dammit. You still suck, though.”

Kagome and Inuyasha had taken a place next to them, in full view of Kikyou. Sango glanced across the floor again, and she could swear she saw Kikyou’s eyes light up even as she pretended to be entirely focused on the poor bastard she’d conned into thinking she was a nice person.

“You guys know she sees you, right?” Sango whispered at them.

“Who cares,” said Kagome dreamily, gazing up at her much-taller husband as he pulled her closer.

“Let her see,” Inuyasha said, clearly on the same page.

Sure enough, Kikyou was starting to be more obvious as she kept her eyes on the couple, even craning her neck around to avoid breaking the gaze a few times.

“What’s she doing?” Miroku asked, still facing away from the entire scene.

“She’s sweating,” Sango said, “She can’t stand it.”

“Ten-four. Okay, twirling again, three, two - “

“Houshi, not again - “

“One!”

“Dammit, you are the worst when I’m trying to concentrate!”

The song ended, and all the dancers on the floor paused to applaud the band, who took a brief bow and waved their thanks before breaking into a faster, swing-style number.

It seemed Kikyou was relishing the growing whispers and points from the rest of the clubgoers, and the opportunity was too hard to pass up, so she steered her poor date closer. Close enough to where they were dancing right beside Kagome and Inuyasha.

The targets in question, however, were pointedly ignoring her. They were spinning around quickly, Kagome’s movements a little clumsy and inexperienced, Inuyasha being the stalwart teacher and helping her through it. They were laughing and happy and clearly lost in each other’s eyes. It was a true Hallmark moment. The stuff of greeting cards and terribly-plotted Christmas movies.

“They are so fucking cute, by the way,” she whispered into Miroku’s ear.

“You say that all the time.”

“It’s true, though. Oh, god, here she goes.” Sango couldn’t help it, she stopped still and quit her imitation of dancing altogether.

There was a thumping sound as Miroku stumbled. “Really, Sango?”

“Shhhh!” She held tightly onto him.

“Kagome?”

Kagome fought back the snort of laughter. Here we go. She sent Inuyasha a wink, and he smirked.

They both kept dancing, and Inuyasha twirled her around to face Kikyou for just a moment before spinning her back inward toward him.

Kikyou stood there, exuding an aura of meek kindness and humility, clasping her hands in front of her with an overjoyed smile on her face.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, blinking innocently, “I’ve missed you.”

Kagome didn’t answer, just kept looking up into her husband’s face with a fond smile.

“I get asked about you two all the time.” Kikyou kept plugging away. “I always tell people that I’m so happy for you both. And for your two kids. I’d love to meet them someday.”

There was an angry flash in Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Axel and Mimi, and Kagome quelled it by leaning up to kiss him. Then she craned her neck to glance at Kikyou.

“Nope!” she said brightly.

Kikyou’s smiling facade slipped only briefly before she recovered. “Are we really going to keep this going forever, Kagome? Mom wouldn’t be happy that you’re being so unforgiving. No matter what, we’re still family.”

Kagome grinned even wider. “Nope!”

Inuyasha pressed his lips together to keep from laughing as he pulled her closer again.

Kikyou’s smile faded for real this time. “I just want a relationship with you two, whatever it might be. And with your beautiful children.”

Of course you do. You want to play the doting aunt, the martyr of a failed relationship who was magnanimous enough to bury the hatchet. In full view of the paparazzi cameras, of course.

“Nope!”

“So it’s like that.” Kikyou apparently was going to try for the pity route now. She closed her eyes sadly, heaving a gentle sigh. “Well, I can at least give you my number, and you can call me if you ever change your mind.”

Inuyasha pulled Kagome over the crook of his arm and dipped her low, leaning over her body to come face-to-face with Kikyou. The first time they’d been face-to-face since...well, Kagome couldn’t remember, but it was definitely before she and Inuyasha had gotten married eight years ago.

He gave Kikyou his best, most charming smile, the smile that Kagome had witnessed firsthand sending a crowd of fangirls into shrieks and fainting spells. Kikyou’s sadness faded immediately, as her public moods seemed to do all too often, and she smiled warmly back.

Can’t appeal to me so you’re gonna try my husband instead. Classy.

Inuyasha kept the smile going for another few seconds, and then opened his mouth to speak. Kikyou seemed to visibly hold her breath, sure that her charms were working.

“Nope.” And the smile widened into a perhaps-overly-satisfied grin.

The hopeful, beaming look on Kikyou’s lovely face once again was wiped away. All the friendly facade was gone, and her face pinched in anger.

“Fine. Enjoy your life with my husband, Kagome.”

Inuyasha gave an exaggerated expression of confusion as he looked down at Kagome. “Um,” he called after Kikyou’s quickly retreating back, “I’m her husband.” He touched the tip of his finger to Kagome’s nose, and she burst into laughter. He followed suit, still looking bewildered.

“No, but really,” he said through his laughter, looking down at her from his far greater height, “I did marry you, right? I’m not just dreaming, or high, or drunk, or - “

“You married me,” Kagome said with a loving smile.

“Thank god. She just called me her fucking husband and I thought maybe all of the last eight years had been some sort of weird perfect dream.”

“She wanted the movie star,” Kagome said, leaning up to kiss him, “I wanted the man.”

“Sango, babe, you gotta stand up, I can’t hold you up much longer!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - “

Oh god, Miroku thought, struggling to pull his wife to her feet as she doubled over in loud, obnoxious laughter, they broke her. She broke.

“I’m gonna be so sore in the morning,” Kagome whispered as she gently kicked off her high heels, “How you manage to walk around in these every day will always mystify me, Sango.”

“Pain is weakness leaving the body,” Sango whispered back, though Kagome didn’t miss the happy sigh she gave when her bare feet were planted firmly on the tile floor.

“What time is it, Inuyasha?” Kagome leaned back into her husband’s chest, now once again a full head shorter than him.

He checked his Rolex. “Three am.”

“Everyone’s probably asleep, then. I’m sure Kanna and Kohaku are too. I guess it all went alright here?”

Inuyasha smirked as he glanced around the dimly-lit living room. “I don’t see anything on fire,” he said, “Small victories.”

“I’m beat,” Miroku mumbled, “Where are you putting us up for the night?”

“East wing, anywhere,” Kagome replied. “Find a bedroom. They’re all ready to go.”

“Why you people need this many rooms in a house with five people in it, I’ll never know.”

“So we can host freeloaders like you,” Inuyasha retorted, his hand reaching around Kagome’s shoulder to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Ah, that’s fair.” Miroku slipped an arm around Sango’s waist and bent to lift her in his arms, bridal-style. She clearly wasn’t ready for it and let out a squeak of surprise, fighting him off. “Ow, Sango, ow, ow, please stop, my back isn’t what it used to be and you’re making this harder - “

“Put me down, Houshi! What the hell are you thinking?” Sango was obviously still trying very hard to whisper.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. Gotta be all romantic and shit. Gotta seduce you. Are you seduced yet?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake - “

“Just let me do this, please. If I put you down now it’ll be like I gave up.”

“...Fine.”

Kagome bit her lip, fighting back even more laughter as Sango gave an embarrassed little half-wave over Miroku’s shoulder, and they disappeared down the hallway.

“He knows how big our house is, right?” Kagome leaned back and whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“He’ll remember in a few seconds.” Inuyasha flashed that trademark smirk of his once again. “Well, now I feel like I should carry you to our bedroom. Because it’s farther. And I want to win.”

Kagome snorted. “Let’s do it.”

He bent to lift her, but she shrugged out of his grasp and ducked around behind him, jumping onto his back and linking her arms around his shoulders.

“I know I always say this,” he said with a laugh as they started down the hall toward the master bedroom, “but I’m so glad you’re a shrimp of a human being.”

They passed through the threshold and closed the door, and then he paused, facing their bed with her still linked around his back. Kagome was just about to try and lower herself into a standing position when suddenly, Inuyasha bent forward at the waist, using his hands to flip her over his head and onto the bedspread. “SUPLEX!”

Kagome shrieked with laughter as she landed in an unceremonious heap on the soft bed covers. “Now I know where Axel gets it! It wasn’t Ayame corrupting him at all, it was his dad the whole time!”

Inuyasha smirked at her devilishly as he slid onto the bed after her, crouching over her, his lips just brushing hers. “At least I didn’t throw you into a wall.”

“If you did I would destroy you.”

“Oh, I’m scared.”

“I’m serious,” she said, leaning up to give him a kiss even as she was still shaking with laughter, “I’m talking scorched earth. Not even a body to bury.”

He took her face in both hands and pulled her in to deepen the kiss, and she tangled her fingers in his long silvery hair.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kiddo,” he murmured when they parted to catch their breath.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jerkface.”

“Dad,” Axel said at breakfast the next morning, “Did the Purry-tans really kill a lot of witches?”

The crowded breakfast table all paused mid-bite, except for Kanna, naturally, and Inuyasha nearly choked into his morning coffee.

“The who, honey?” Kagome asked, gently brushing an affectionate hand over her son’s hair.

“The Purry-tans. Like in the movie.”

Inuyasha gave a pointed gaze down to the other end of the table, where Kanna was on her third bowl of Froot Loops cereal and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Miroku and Sango and Kagome all exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“What movie?” Inuyasha asked, still giving Kanna the stare-down of the century.

“‘The Crucible,’” Kanna replied matter-of-factly, “You said nothing scary, so I went with educational instead.”

“Aren’t people shown being executed in that movie?”

“Yes,” Kanna said, as next to her, Kohaku looked about ready to slide under the table in mortification, “Just as they were in the historical record.”

“So it really did happen?” Axel asked insistently. “It seems like an awful way to die.”

“It was indeed,” Kanna answered him. “A great injustice, in my opinion.”

Inuyasha planted both elbows on the table and smushed his hands over his face, mumbling something that sounded like “God dammit, Kanna.”

“What did you say, Dad?”

“N-Nothing. Finish your breakfast, kid.”

THAT’S IT! Hope you like it Lia! <3 Also tagging @dyaz-stories because she also was a very faithful and amazing follower of this story. I don’t know who else to tag because honestly I don’t actually know if any of the rest of y’all have read it lol OH ALSO @cstorm86 I SAW THAT YOU READ IT TOO

[professorbellarke]

Honestly a bit disappointed in the “traitor you love” moment. Am I crazy for wising it had been a quieter character moment instead? I love soft bellarke so much. Please convince me I’m wrong! im begging you, I don’t want to be a negative Nancy :(

OHHHH. Oh sweet honey baby, you have come to the right person! And I hope you have some time to relax and pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents the thesis you didn’t ask for! This is going to be a long one.

Because I loved everything about that scene. Honestly, I loved the entire episode top to bottom, and I’ll tell you why. Because this story is a genre story. It is science fiction. And while good genre stories have intimate character moments and connections as the…I don’t know, the flesh and blood of a story, the BONES of genre fiction must be plot. And sometimes, it feels like The 100 carves away too much of that flesh and blood to focus on the bones, when the blood is what makes us care about the bones (this metaphor went cannibal places, oh no). BUT THAT MOMENT! Ohh, that moment, sweet anonymous, was the perfect fusion of flesh and bone. Heart and head. Plot and character. In other words it was our beloved Bellamy’s favorite thing:

!!!!!!HIGH DRAMA!!!!!!!!!!

One of the things I love best about genre fic is that everything—even and especially emotional revelations and turning points—must be done in the most dramatic way possible. It’s ingrained in the dna of the genre, and I’m always disappointed when sci fi and plots take the easy way out. No, I don’t want a magical amulet that’ll just fix everything! YAWN AND SNOOZE AND OO. The 100 never does this, which means it always pushes its characters into impossible corners, forcing them to make unthinkable choices, and that is what I love. If there’s an easy way out, like say, a space station that can shelter Skaikru from the radiation, THE 100 BLOWS IT UP. I LOVE WHEN SHOWS BLOW THINGS UP! I want the drama so explosive that my nose is three inches from the screen because I’m so eager for what’s next that I’m trying to physically leap into the story. I like the stakes SO HIGH that I’m in a constant state of tension. It’s why I’m obsessed with this show. It’s why it’s also not for everyone.

But like I said, this show is at its best when it has the character stakes and the plot stakes working in harmony. 5x08 was a masterclass in that.

For an example in how stakes make a story, Clarke’s radio could have worked (ignore science, I don’t know her, I know only story.) So Spacekru could have known she was alive the whole time, she and Bellamy could have had merry chats across space, she could have told them about her berries, they could have laughed together about that time Murphy slid into a coma, lol, classic Murphy. Then Spacekru could have come bback down when the five years were up, because of course they had enough fuel, and then Clarke would be waiting for them and yay! Good times.

Good snooze.

I have read really good fics that are about this exact thing. They’re cozy, dreamy, romantic, and beautiful. They fill a crack in my heart formed by the agony of Praimfaya. They are also NOT MARKETABLE GENRE STORIES BEING EXPLORED ON THE SCREEN. There are certain expectations there. You need obstacles before you earn the payoff. Bellamy must think Clarke is DEAD!!! And learn to move on without her! And Clarke must talk to him EVERY DAY because the thing that keeps her going is that he’ll come BACK TO HER! BUT THEY CAN’T GET BACK BECAUSE NO FUEL!!!! BUT CLARKE IS IN TROUBLE AND NEEDS THEM NOW!!! Ahhh! The stakes raise with every plot twist. And we’re personally invested to boot.

Bellamy could have learned Clarke was alive in a million ways, by stepping out of the dropship and seeing her waiting, by hearing her on the radio, on and on. But it’s so much better that they reunited in the climactic scene of the WHOLE EPISODE. That the first time Clarke sees him in six years is through a haze of pain, when all hope is lost, and then there is hope. Her drama bae. Dramatically saving her life like no time at all has passed. The whole plot of 5x03 was Bellarke reuniting! That’s what the stakes were. Will Bellamy get to Clarke in time? First he must overcome the fact that he’s stuck in space, and then that he thinks she’s dead, and that Diyoza will kill him, and ack it’s getting harder because Clarke is getting in deeper water by the second!

I LIVE FOR THIS. Those are the moments I watch over and over and over again.

So Octavia could have thrown out that “lol, you love Clarke, you’re so lame, sick burn Blodreina well done have a humansnack ration” at any time in the episode to try to get a rise out of him. But they saved it. For when it counted most. For when it would have the most impact for us and for them.

Bellamy (and the writers) didn’t just not deny that Bellamy loves Clarke. No, Bellamy’s love for Clarke was declared by the narrative while he was POISONING HIS SISTER to SAVE CLARKE’S LIFE as the FATE OF ENTIRE SOCIETIES AND THE LAST LIVABLE PLACE IN THE WORLD HANG IN THE BALANCE. BUT NONE OF THAT MATTERS AS MUCH AS HIS LOVE FOR CLARKE! HIS LOVE FOR CLARKE WAS THE FINAL PLOT TWIST, THE TURNING POINT, THE STRAW THAT BROKE THE BELLAMY’S BACK! BELLARKE WAS THE PLOT!!! THE MOST SIGNIFICANT PLOT!!!!!!

That is my ABSOLUTE JAM RIGHT THERE oh my god. Oh my god I can’t even word about it. Yes, I love quiet character moments. I love them so much. And this show could use more of them. Honestly, this episode was so strong because it not only HAD them, but it let us feel them: Bellarke in the tent, Monty and Harper planning their happy farmlives, Emori and Murphy having a very sad second breakup in the woods while McCreary cursed his entire existence, Raven and Echo holding hands, Raven breaking down with Zeke at the end. From a character point of view, this episode was a gift.

But one of the things I’ve always loved best about Bellarke is that their emotional beats are TIED DIRECTLY INTO THE PLOT IN THE BIGGEST WAY. The stakes in their relationship are literally world-changing, life or death, apocalypses and war and, well, epic, in the Logan Echolls sense. What’s the first time the word love is used in connection to Clarke’s feelings for Bellamy? WHEN SHE’S SENDING HIM TO SACRIFICE HIMSELF IN MT WEATHER. When is the first time Clarke realizes how much losing Bellamy will hurt her? When she closes the dropship door on him and believes she has just killed him herself. Who is the one person on earth Clarke cannot sacrifice, even if THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE HANGS IN THE BALANCE? Bellamy freaking Blake, that’s who. Your OTP could never.

I love quiet, subtle, low drama Bellarke in my fan fiction, so very much. They deserve to have a break and so do we. But there’s a reason that never happens on screen—because that’s not Story, in the classic way of sci fi and fantasy, where the stakes are magnified. I had a writing professor who liked to use the common writing adage Twist the knife. You stab them right where it hurts, but you don’t just leave it there. You twist it. You milk it for everything its got.

Everything in genre fiction must be bigger. It takes the themes of our world and blows them up by adding bloodier stakes. It’s the same interpersonal struggles, but instead of you losing a job or a friend, you lose a kingdom. You lose a planet. Genre stakes are both personal and external, and the really good genre stories manage to fuse them—which is what they’ve done with Bellarke since day one. The fate of the hundred, of skaikru, of spacekru, of humanity, rested on Bellamy and Clarke being able to forge a working partnership.

And, spoiler alert, they did. And now they have to fucking kiss, hopefully in a moment of high plot-related drama as well.

I know fiction is objective and you super don’t have to agree with me. But I’m a high stakes ho, and 5x08 gave me my high stakes fix. Thank you for coming to the TED talk you only a little bit asked for.

[yaminerua]

Y’all I am seriously not having a good time rn

And like yeah literally no-one is because this year is a fucking disaster but god..... I feel like I’m getting backed onto the edge of a cliff by stress...

I’m sorry I’ve been slow with commissions and barely got any new art done but man I just don’t have the emotional or physical energy to...

This year has been one year after another of stressful or upsetting things even just in my personal life alone and that’s not even INCLUDING the state of the world and everything else going on...

Like god my papa died this year and I knew he was going to eventually because cancer is a fucking Bitch but it happened faster than anyone thought only a few days before the UK’s lockdown was finally put in place. So I couldn’t go to the funeral. But my aunt had said even before we knew we wouldn’t be allowed that if my brother and I showed up there’d be a war. Because of all the Stupid Family Nonsense that has just been swirling and bubbling and frothing over the years. My gran is torn between wanting me to visit cos I’d be good company and hating my guts because of all the Shit that’s happened.

I dunno how to abridge it... it’s mostly them rewriting history or just straight up misinterpreting the ways or reasons things happened and pinning it all on my dad, his family, and my and my brother instead of the actual people who fucked everything up, those being the crooked lawyers who fucked us over 20 years ago, my mum after her meltdown changed her into a horrible person and her family who tried to gaslight, kidnap, blackmail and manipulate us all the fuckin way.

We were terrified of them because they tried to kidnap us and keep us from dad, tried to lie to us and change the way events unfolded by telling us completely false versions of events despite the fact we were present for most of them and they absolutely did not play out the way they wanted us to believe. Tried to brainwash us against my dad and his family and then turned around and tried to say that him and his family were trying to brainwash us against THEM.

So much distress and upset happened whenever we visited and other things happened that were just plain terrifying fear-for-our-lives shit that we just. Didn’t feel safe going over anymore. But they refuse to accept that. And think we just cut them off and abandoned them (which is rich since actually the cutting off happened from their end first but, again, they loooove to rewrite history).

So all of that mess is being continuously dug up to guilt trip us and make us feel bad because our cousins hate us, my aunt Despises us, and my gran wobbles in between of wanting to see us and also despising us too.

I made an effort to rebuild the bridges that had been burnt because I wanted my papa to know I didn’t hate him and that I wanted him to see me again and know that an effort was being made to patch things up because I knew that was what he wanted. And he never deserved to have been cut off from us. It was the women in the family who were being the assholes and he was just for the most part caught up in it.

He was so happy to see me and happy to think the family was beginning to come together again. Unfortunately his daughter and her sons do not respect his wishes. And my mum flip flops because she’s still affected by what happened to her more than 15 years ago. Her head got so messed up by all the legal stress and the brainwashing from her mum and sister that she just. Doesn’t remember what was real or what was false anymore. But also won’t ever listen to our side because it’s Wrong By Default.

So we ‘abandoned’ her in her eyes and she will Always try to Remind us. of that and all the other bullshit she wants us to believe.

My phone anxiety is directly related to her and Now I have to talk to her everyday because my papa’s death unfortunately opened up the communications that I’d forced closed for years to protect my own mental health.

But this year has just been ‘fuck your mental health’ so. naturally that wish gets kicked out the window and the phone can’t be refused anymore.

Sometimes the calls are ok. She talks about herself for 2 hours and then that’s it. other times it becomes a rant, an attempt to convince, an attempt to deliberately make me feel awful and Oh Boy is she Good At That. And I can’t hang up on her because that pisses her off More and then she’ll write a horrible email to my brother where she tries to pull the same shit on him and I refuse to have him have to deal with that because for SOME FUCKIN REASON she only pulls this shit on the phone with me and NEVER DOES THIS TO HIM.

God. Why.

Anyway that’s just one thing that’s persistent and continuous. And I make myself sadder about it watching old home videos we found from 20 years ago. One of them I’d never seen was the literal day I was born and it.... it shook me so much I broke down watching it. It’s like watching good days, innocent days when all seemed well, knowing the future and how wretched and awful and deeply traumatising the years ahead are for that little kid who has no idea what’s awaiting them.

Cue lockdown and my dad and brother and I are looking after my granny. She had a stroke 2 years ago, hit her head on a cabinet and had constant UTIs for months and then had another stroke last year and as a result her mind is foggier than it used to be and her mobility isn’t what it was so she requires a lot of constant watch and care.

None of this is her fault, but I’m just not built for the long-run in a carer position. The first year put me into a meltdown, and I had another worse one last year and I was dreading if there would be one this year because I’d felt so on-edge and burnt out.

And then lockdown happened and the chances to get away for a bit of respite to recharge my batteries went out the window. Dad had no help to balance his work calls which sometimes went on all day, and granny. Other than me, but for reasons I have yet to finally have an answer for, my body has just been having problem after problem that leaves me drained and/or in pain and less able to do the physical help I was doing before. Doing the cooking and washing up to take it off dad, and getting up to keep an eye on granny or help her with personal care like I used to.

I’ve had this goddamn pain that doctors haven’t been able to find a diagnosis for since April now and it’s just become more and more limiting and I’m on a waiting list to get referred and god only knows when that will actually end up happening.

Doctors suggested it might have been stress that brought it on and the response to that is usually to reduce stressors but like. My life is the stressor so idk how to fix that. I can’t get away because guilt and stress over dad having to handle it all would follow me anywhere I went anyway even if i COULD go somewhere else for a break.

My uncles aren’t very helpful either. One makes excuses not to come and help and the other WILL go on a throwing out spree if he was to come in and I cannot trust him to not throw out important sentimental stuff without a second thought as to whether it was wanted because he’s done that before.

Plus that one has had his own health scares and even had a bit of a mental health crisis in the middle of the year which was probably brought on by the isolation and distancing stuff lockdown brought about.

One major contributor to the daily stress was the nagging worry that there was gonna be a Major Event this year that hadn’t happened yet. There’ve been major events that put granny is hospital without fail every year for the past... 4 but maybe even 5 years. It felt inevitable. But also terrifying because hospital felt like the worst place for her to go this year with all the virus stuff happening...

We had carers coming in to help with her but they weren’t really that... great. Wore their masks under their noses, didn’t self isolate when they got sick before they could get tests and lo and behold, despite the fact I hadn’t been out anywhere and the only contact I had beyond my own family were the carers, I got a cold which thankfully really was Just a Cold.

Not wanting to risk granny even getting a cold I stuck to my room and only came out to use the toilet or grab food/drink and all times I left my room I wore a mask and used sanitiser before I even left the room so I wouldn’t put anything on any surfaces. I was careful.

But either I wasn’t careful enough, or whoever gave ME the cold passed it to dad as well. Because then he got sick. And he didn’t have the option to distance himself from granny. Because I was still sick too and my brother Doesn’t do the personal care. So he wore a mask and tried to look after her while coughing and sneezing his guts out.

We thought we were gonna be ok. But then it happened. She got the cold anyway. We think it was a different carer who gave her it because this one was Really Hacking Up A Lung with her. Mask on still but, idk, the hands on care means you’re up real close and even a mask doesn’t stop everything. Plus this woman would pull her mask down to speak sometimes it was....?????

So granny got a cough and cold and we prayed it wasn’t covid and thankfully it doesn’t seem to have been. She’d had a cold in february so we thought ok if we just keep looking after her and help her fight it off we’ll be ok.

September 11th, one day before her birthday, at half 7 in the morning dad woke me up yelling for me to grab the phone so he could call an ambulance.

She was slumped against him in the top floor landing, face drooping, unresponsive and making deep loud groans that sounded honestly like a cow’s moo. It was an awful sound.

It then progressed to a weird rattly, wet breath. Like you’re trying to suck the last water out through a straw in a cup with just ice in it. Like a rattly snore but from the throat and not the nose.

Ambulance came and they said her blood pressure was high and still rising. She was absolutely unresponsive and cold and clammy to touch. The only response they could get was pinching her ear and she let out a loud pained groan.

They took her away and it was later just assumed to be a chest infection so she was put on antibiotics.

I think just. The accumulated stress of everything else just. Hit me like a train. It’s horrible to be relieved to get a break because someone’s gone into hospital because it felt like there was no other way you were going to get a break. But I felt so burnt out it happened anyway and I feel awful for it. my body was in so much pain and my head and everything was just exhausted from stress and exhaustion in general.

She wasn’t in very long though and I think before we knew it was a chest infection related collapse we’d all assumed it was a third stroke and thought she was going to be in for as long as she had the last few times to rehabilitate.

I honestly hate what ended up happening next.

The stress of it all just blew up and I had several days of frequent uncontrollable panic attack-type meltdowns.

I just. I lost complete control of myself. Slamming my head against the wall and floor and counters, scratching my arms, pulling my hair out and just.... screaming so loudly my throat was so so raw. This happened every day. I got into a negatively spiralling process of overthinking and overworrying and just melted down into a fit of stress

The third day of this, dad called the ambulance on me,which made me feel so so so much worse for wasting their time on something I wish I’d had enough mental control of myself to just. stop from happening....

they sat with me for nearly 2 hours and once I was able to even speak relatively coherently at all I just cried about everything from childhood trauma to everything else that’s all combined to fuck me up.

The lady called the mental health folks because she felt I definitely needed to see someone for some support and put me on with one of the women on the phone but that woman was so incredibly unhelpful and passive aggressive even the ambulance lady was shocked and apologised for that person’s behaviour but god it has just absolutely wrecked my faith in being able to get any help for all of this mess.....

I honestly feel.... terrified of myself.... Because I’ve had meltdowns before but I’ve never had one so bad I lost control of myself. Like I could have legitimately harmed myself in that mess. I even wanted to. It was the closest I’ve come in a long time of actually being like wow I could Actually Follow Through with Killing Myself and it terrified me because fuck at least that time years ago when I was planning on doing it I was more in control of the action and was able to stop....

Now I’m not even sure if I got in that state again I would be able to stop myself. And that’s terrifying....

To make things worse, that third day when the ambulance people were talking me down out of my whole mess, granny had been brought home and they ended up taking her back to the hospital because it was deemed not safe to let her in while I was upstairs screaming on the floor.

So :)))))) the police called. Because not allowing granny into her legal home was an issue and I was the cause :)))))))  Even tho I didn’t actually ban her with my words, I just wasn’t in a good mental state at the time and I tried so hard to calm down once i knew she was out there waiting but I was so stressed about what was going to happen I couldn’t get it together fast enough and then had to worry if I was going to be in huge trouble over it. So THAT’s wonderful.

Anyway. She came home the next day with a very very sore side and we weren’t sure if her ribs were sore from coughing or if she’d bashed herself in an unreported fall in hospital or what.

But the next day I was helping her take off the bra her carer that morning had put on her despite knowing her side pain and then she was sick and I was freaking out because granny and sick never go well so I was super worried...

Thankfully it wasn’t long lasting but the pain she had continued to be excruciating and a doctor came later on and said her liver area was very tender so she ought to go get it checked.

So we took her to hospital by car because we were told the ambulance wait would be longer.

But because the virus is increasing in the country again the restrictions are up. So while I had to come to help get granny in and out of the car, I wasn’t allowed to go with her and dad inside. And dad had the damn car keys and it was dark, late, cold as fuck and windy.

I was outside shivering my ass off with nowhere to wait for nearly 2 hours. They wouldn’t even let me in at first when I was about to piss myself.

After that first 2 hours dad briefly came out to tell me it was looking like it was gonna be a while longer so I just asked him for money for a taxi because at this point it was already after midnight.

I got like no sleep that night cos I was worrying about dad’s chronic sleep deprivation. He didn’t get home until 6am.

Anyways she’s been in and had scans but they can’t find anything and have just given her painkillers and mysteriously they say the side pain is gone. Whether thats just from painkillers or if it’s actually gone without discovering what caused it idk. But not knowing stresses me out like I’d have rather there was something to treat instead of it mysteriously being very painful and making her sick and then disappearing. Like what if it comes back?

hhhh anyway she’s supposed to come home tomorrow and again I still don’t feel like I’ve shaken off the burn out and my pain is still there too  so physically I’m still a mess and I feel so bad about my lack of productivity especially on commissions I still need to do...

I don’t even think I can take much more stuff happening this year like. I’m legit not sure I’m gonna make it to the end of the year rn folks...

[rabidwrestlingfan]

WrestlingNoob Ask Box Story: Pete Dunne

The tears spilled over without warning, ruining the makeup she worked so hard on. "So this is it?" Her voice wavered as she spoke. The Birmingham native nodded with a roll of his eyes. He seemed so unbothered by the fact that she was breaking in front of him. "I.. I gave everything up for you. I lost friends because of you. Why?" She asked after seconds of silence. "I never asked ya too, sweetheart. You should have known what you were getting into." Pete said like it was the simplest thing ever.

"I expected this a month or two in! Not a year! Do you even care?!" Her voice had risen considerably. He shrugged nonchalantly before speaking. "Just 'cause you're a good lay doesn't mean I plan on forever, love. Guys like me don't fall in love forever." She was shocked at the words. She had always figured he'd say the L word when he was comfortable, not that it meant he didn't care about her. The more she thought about it the more she realised how long this had been coming.

Even Trent had given her a hushed warning that she didn't know what she was getting into in the very beginning. Before she betrayed her two best friends just to show him she meant what she said. "It was a trick all along." She finally realised. She had been a puppet for him to use until he got tired of it. "You played the part so well. The honorable pet that was always good for a distraction... in and out of the ring." He answered. The air rushed from her lungs. This couldn't be real.

"Even after everyone warned you about the big bad wolf you didn't realise? More dense then I thought." His words only added to the pain she already felt. How had she let it go this far? How had she even let this happen? "It never struck you as weird that I never once called you my girl? You've always been a piece of the puzzle. Even that first night at that hotel." The night he had 'saved' her from some flirty drunks. Her eyes closed unwillingly, wishing she was anywhere but where she was.

She could hear him moving about the apartment, but she didn't dare open her eyes. He had never cared. "How could you even do this?" The thought alone was making her sick, yet he was obviously just fine. "It's quite simple. Don't get attached and everything works to plan. You thought you were so special. You thought you were the girl who was gonna change me instead of just another girl. You did this to yourself." He answered with a chuckle. It sounded so evil paired with the words he had spoken.

Finally she opened her eyes to look into his. She had never seen his eyes look so cold towards her. "But... you TOLD me I was different. You told me you never had the same girl over two times. You never let a girl keep stuff here." She said quickly, hands flailing about. She still wanted to believe this was a nightmare that he'd wake her up from any minute. "Do you believe everything you hear, love? Or am I just that good of a liar?" He asked with a sinister sneer.

A small cry ripped from her throat, making him chuckle. "What's wrong? Can't handle the truth of this situation? Is that why you're still grasping at straws? God, you're pathetic. I figured you'd run as soon as I told you. Didn't expect the water works. Is it supposed to convince me to stay?" He was pacing in front of her now. He looked like a caged animal. Pete would never physically hurt her, would he? "I wish I never loved you, Pete Dunne." She said as level as she could manage.

He stopped in his tracks and let out a laugh. It made her skin crawl. "Ouch love, that really hurts." He said sarcastically. She took a deep breath before she nodded. This was it. "I hope every single time you get shitfaced you see me in your dreams. I hope you always here my voice. I hope I find someone who makes me happy and you see what you gave up. I hope I make you hurt like I do right now until you die." She noticed her old duffel bag by the door and grabbed it, literally running away.

1. The woman ran into someone with a sobbed sorry before continuing her escape. The Wolverhampton native sighed heavily before heading up to his friend's flat. Trent stood in the doorway simply watching Pete's pacing form. The younger man suddenly turned around with a sneer. "What'd you do?" Trent finally asked. It was clear that he had chased her off. "Told her it was all a game and that I used her to further my career." Pete answered lowly.

2. "Christ, Peter! You finally find a girl that cares about you and you pull this? I know you lov-" A plastic cup came flying towards him before he could finish. "Shut up! This way she gets her friends back and doesn't ruin herself. Girls like her don't belong with guys like me. No matter how much we... care about them." Trent knew any further arguments would likely lead to a physical fight. Pete had loved her whether he admitted it or not, and everyone but her knew it. And now she was gone.

It was two weeks later that he seen her backstage at a Progress show. She looked like hell. Her eyes were dead, hair looked flat, and she looked pale. "He did it to himself." He heard Tyler hiss to Trent. He wanted to lash out at the younger man but couldn't rip his eyes off of her. She was wearing more makeup than she normally did. He couldn't help but wonder why. Had she been eating right? Was she sleeping? Had the nightmares picked up again? Millions of questions whirled through his mind.

He could see a part of her crack when their eyes met. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "Tell me I did the right thing letting her go." He said quickly and quietly to his companions. He was everything she shouldn't want. Everything the love of her life shouldn't be. "You're a sodding idiot, Dunne." Tyler said honestly. She had clicked with him easily. "Told you how I felt that night." Trent said with a sigh. Of course neither of them could see what he did. "I did the right thing."

It was that statement that sent Tyler off. "Really?! You sulking around biting everyone's head off for two weeks is the right thing? Look. At. Her." He growled quietly, forcefully turning Pete's head to look towards her. "Does THAT look like the right thing? You threw her away like she was nothing! You are so emotionally stunted that you couldn't even tell the poor girl you loved her. You did this. Either live with it or go TRY to fix it." Pete pushed him back with a snarl. "Get off me, Bate."

Trent stepped between the two before things could get too bad. "If you want her, then go tell her." Pete said with a roll of his eyes. Tyler laughed humorlessly at the thought. "You are out of your mind. I never have wanted her, and I never will. She's like my sister and I'm the one who wakes up to her crying! I didn't say anything because I hoped you'd open your eyes, but of course that's too much to ask! She's been staying with me so she doesn't have to be alone. She's fucking miserable."

Pete froze upon hearing the words. She'd been staying with Tyler since then? And he let her? "Why?" Was all he asked. "Why what? You know what, nevermind that question. There's a ninety percent chance the answer is that I'm a decent human being. You broke her, Pete. She didn't want to be alone and I was worried. I knew the nightmares would come back and that she probably wouldn't take care of herself. I get to sleep on my couch in twenty minute intervals between nightmares. Because of you."

Pete knew he was breathing incredibly hard despite seeming no more pissed off than usual. On the inside he was screaming. He was mad, heartbroken, and shocked all at once. Tyler was obviously rubbing salt in the wounds and it both hurt and angered him. On the other hand he knew the Dudley man was right. She wouldn't have taken care of herself if she were alone. "Pete?" Trent asked, still between the two. The man looked like his brain had short circuited and it left him perfectly still.

"Peppermint tea, two sugars, and just a little bit of milk. She'll be out like a light. Play with her hair for a few minutes after she passes out. Put a pillow against her back and you won't have to lay with her." Was all Pete said. The two quickly realised it was ways to help her with nightmares. He still hadn't moved from the spot, eyes glued to the floor. "Don't do this. Don't make you both miserable because you don't know what to do. She loves you. You love her. Make it right." Tyler stated.

"Can't. You didn't hear the things I said. She's better off far away. This'll pass soon, and she'll be with someone who loves her right. Just not me." He mumbled. Tyler literally groaned in frustration. "You're such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot!" He exclaimed. Even Trent groaned in frustration. "If you care about her like you say, you'll drop this." Pete said simply. He was doing this for her. He had never deserved her. Never deserved everything she'd done for him. "Let me let her go. Please."

"And what about caring about you? You aren't faring much better. I can tell you've been sleeping worse than normal. You're four times more unbearable. How are you the only one that doesn't see what's happening?" It was Trent that spoke this time. Pete looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What's happening is you guys trying to fix something that's shattered. It's impossible to fix what I did to her. Besides, this way there's a chance for her to redeem herself from being associated with me

"If you're talking about the girls, then they've already talked that one out. Three hours of sobbing, hugging, and ice cream before I made a run for it a few days ago. They want her happy. They know you made her happy." Tyler said with a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was like it physically pained him. "Name one other woman that you've ever learned about like you did her. You literally just gave Tyler tips to help her with her nightmares." Trent added like an ashamed father.

Pete's eyes went over to where she had been standing earlier. "Bug off. Both of you." He said simply before walking off. Tyler had went to follow him before Trent stopped him. "Let him go and hope he reaches a realization of how things are." He said lowly. Pete's eyes stayed on the ground as he walked towards the exit. They were wrong. They had to be. There was no reality where his relationship with her ever worked out. He took a deep breath of fresh air before the door opened behind him.

Pete's eyes snapped over figuring that they had followed him out. "I told you not to-" Then he seen her. She had frozen in the doorway upon hearing his voice. "Sorry. Didn't know you were here." She said before storming past him to her car. He wanted to run after her. Wanted to scream how much he fucked up. Wanted to do anything but stand there like an idiot, which is what he was doing. He watched her ripping through the car. She was obviously looking for something. She was always losing things.

Their eyes met briefly when she looked over before she quickly looked away. His chest constricted once more. She looked so sad. He'd never meant to hurt her like this. He just wanted her with someone who made her happy. Not someone who didn't know how to care for her. She wanted things that he just couldn't give her. "I'm sorry." Pete breathed. She'd never hear him but at least he said it. She'd never know just how sorry he really was. She closed her car door with a resigned sigh.

"Do you have any extra tape? Mine is nowhere to be found, and you guys are the only ones here already." She asked after a few moments of obvious hesitation. Pete watched her for a few seconds, weighing his options. In reality he knew exactly where her tape was. It was on his coffee table. Exactly where she left it when she was in a rush to change so they could go out after a show three weeks ago. Finally he nodded silently before leading her back into the building.

He heard her mutter a quiet thanks before following him. He considered locking her in a closet somewhere that no one would find her until the end of the show. He didn't want her competing tonight. From what Tyler had said she really shouldn't be. She'd be tired, and possibly weakened from not eating right. A prime choice for an injury to attack. Suddenly he shook his head minutely. It wasn't his place to worry about her anymore. If she thought she could handle a match then he couldn't stop her.

"Who are you up against?" Pete asked before he could stop himself. She hesitated before answering. "Jinny." He stopped, turning to look at her quickly. "You're not fighting Jinny tonight. Absolutely not." He told her seriously. She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Excuse me? In what world do you have any say whatsoever in what I do? YOU gave up that right two weeks ago. I need a paycheck therefore I'm in a match. It's simple." He shook his head, fist clenching. "How much do you need?" He asked.

She was so shocked that she couldn't even speak for a few seconds. "Excuse me?" She finally asked. "How much money do you need to not fight tonight?" He reiterated. Without a moment of hesitation she had slapped him. "Fuck you, Pete Dunne!" She yelled before storming past him. He went after her moments later. "You really think you can do this? She'll have no qualms about taking you out." He called after her, still following her. "Not. Your. Problem." She told him angrily.

He gripped her arm tightly, tugging her back. "Has Jim even seen you in person since this match was made? Because I know he won't stand for this. I'm surprised Tyler and Trent even let you come here. The nightmares are bad, and you physically look terrible. Jinny'll kill you if you go out there." He told her, voice betraying him by cracking at the end. Her eyes were watering when he looked at her. "You did this to yourself, Pete. Don't pretend to care now. Please." She whispered quietly.

"You're the one who told me I was just a pawn. You ruined us. You used me. I would have walked through broken glass to make you happy. And... it scares me how useless I feel. It scares me that I feel this numb without you. I don't even feel human." She told him, tears spilling over finally. He brushed them away without even realising it. "I'm sorry. Even if you think I'm lying." For unknown reasons he leaned sown and kissed her, all the emotions brewing inside him came out.

She kissed him back for moments before pushing him away. She slapped him once more with a growl. "You DO NOT get to do that. A kiss isn't going to change anything. You probably aren't sorry, either. The truth is that I don't know what to believe when it comes to the shit you do. I have everyone in my ear telling me that you didn't lie until you broke up with me and that you love me. Everyone except you. And even if that's true then I'm even more scared. You made it sound so natural and easy."

He didn't even flinch when she slapped him. He knew he deserved it. "Don't have the match tonight and you won't ever have to talk to me again. I can't deal with you getting hurt because I'm being a twat. I just offered to pay you not to go out there so don't think I'm lying. One day you'll thank me for what I did, even if you don't see it now. Right now you're hurt emotionally and that's no condition to wrestle in. Go find one of them and call it off. If not for you then for Tyler and Trent."

She scoffed as she looked at the ceiling. "See, this is another problem with you! You never want to seem like you're actually caring about someone. You're so worried someone will notice what an amazing person you are that you act like you feel absolutely nothing. It's bullshit! I've seen the real Pete Dunne. The Pete that actually likes to cuddle, that makes sure everyone he cares about are taken care of, even the Pete that sings in the car." He played with the cuff of his jacket as she spoke.

Her eyes went back to him when she seen the action. She was making him nervous? "Just... forget the tape." She told him before walking off. She didn't know why, but the absence of him chasing her hurt. Maybe he really didn't care. "He's right about the match, you know. It's a bad idea to go out there like this." That was a voice that she would know anywhere. "Do you always eavesdrop on our conversations, or is this subject that special? Not a very gentlemanly thing to do anyways, Trent."

The older man couldn't help but chuckle. "On the contrary, I'm doing it for the most gentlemanly reason. I care about you. I care that he hurt you, and I care that he can't see the bigger picture. You're both like family to me. You should know by now that nobody hurts my family. Even if the only thing hurting them is each other. I'd beat the hell out of Pete if I thought it'd help. Which also means that I can't let Jinny hurt you. That puts me in a rough spot. I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

"Remember that I'm sensible and can make my own decisions?" She asked before crossing her arms. Now all three members of British Strong Style had asked her to drop her match. Even if she didn't feel a hundred percent, what would everyone think? She'd look like a crybaby who couldn't step up to the plate. "I know you're normally sensible with your decisions. I also know that you aren't like you are normally right now. You just want to prove a point. You want to prove that you don't need him."

Anger instantly flooded through her. How could he assume that? "Are you fucking serious right now, Trent?! You really think that I'm doing this because of anything having to do with Pete? Really?" She asked. If it was anyone else she would have hit them. "I'm not going to fight with you, sweetheart. I just don't want you doing anything silly, and girls do silly things to show boys they're better. I know it probably feels like everyone's attacking you right now, but it's because we care."

"Of all people, you're the one I thought would understand." She told him lowly. Her anger was turning into hurt. "Just because I understand doesn't mean that I agree. At the very least, and for a piece of mind, let Tyler or I be ringside. I won't do anything to jeopardize the match, but if something happens I want to be there." She could see the worry shining in his eyes. Was it really that bad? "Why don't any of you believe in me? Shit happens all the time, and the nightmares are nothing new."

He cupped her face with a sad smile. "I'll ALWAYS believe in you. I have all the faith in the world that you can do it. That being said I'm also the one who went to the gym with you earlier. You're reaction times are... bad. You also seem focused on all the wrong things. Your whole career is ahead of you, and I'd hate to see it end now. That being said you should drop the match or make things right with Pete. I know both sound less pleasant than getting a thousand paper cuts. Pick your poison."

She heavily sighed before nodding. "So I have maybe two hours to either drop a match that I need or miraculously fix things with a guy that broke me in an hour. Cool. Great." She said sarcastically. Trent chuckled softly. "You always love challenges. Think of it like that. The whole reason you're here is because of tape, right? Let's go get you that tape while you decide what you're going to do." He told her, leading her away. Little did she know that the grand plan was officially in motion.

Pete was still by the back entrance when Tyler found him. "Have you seen your soulmate anywhere? She texted me that she needed tape." He said before holding up his tape. "You must of missed her somewhere. She ran off a few minutes ago..." Pete answered roughly. He completely left out the part where he offered her money and then kissed her. "Shit. Alright. You gonna creep here or come to the locker room? You look like a serial killer waiting for his next victim. It's really offsetting."

Pete shrugged before walking past him towards the locker room. His head was everywhere. He found it funny that he had lectured her for not focusing when he wasn't much better. The younger man couldn't help but smile. Trent was shutting the door when they rounded the corner. Pete didn't think anything about the nod that was exchanged between his friends until he was being shoved through said door. "Fix it!" Trent exclaimed before jamming the doorknob. Pete's eyes met hers immediately afterwards.

She was up in a flash. "This isn't funny! Let me out right now." She seethed, banging on the door. She heard a laugh that was obviously Tyler. "I'm afraid I can't do that. He loves you even though you're kinda crazy, and you love him even if he's a twat most of the time. As a good friend of you both it's my job to make you make up. Sadly you're both imbeciles and it had to come to this." The younger man said. His smile could be heard. "Looks like I'm dying in a locker room." She mumbled angrily.

Pete rolled his eyes as he listened to his friend. Why couldn't anyone mind their own business? He motioned for her to move before harshly kicking the door. "I'll tear this whole place apart. I'll set your fucking gear on fire. Open the door. Now." He kicked the door once more to prove a point. He wouldn't cause any real damage to the venue, but he would cause damage to the personal belongings in the room. They were causing her more pain than necessary. He had done this to protect her.

"You see, I've already thought about that. Which is why I had Tyler take anything of value to us out before we trapped you two. Grabbed a few decoy bags just in case this happened." Trent's voice filtered through the door. "I'll give up the match right now.. just let me out." She said softly. He instantly wished he wouldn't have looked at her. The heartbreak was evident in her eyes. It was different earlier, she was in a wide open space that she could easily run from him in. Now she was trapped.

Pete shook his head stubbornly. "You're gonna be in that match, you're gonna beat Jinny to a pulp, and you're gonna show any doubters why you deserve to be here." He said confidently. Her eyes widened upon hearing his words. What had changed his mind? "I love ya. I know I didn't say it when I should have, but I'm saying it now. In fact that's why I said all that shit that night. I've never wanted anything but for you to be happy. Ever. I can't give you a future you want, and it kills me."

Her breath caught in her throat. She never expected for Pete to actually open up. "What?" Was all she could say. He took the few steps to her and laid his forehead against hers. "I never deserved for you to look at me twice. You're like the light to my dark. I was so scared when I realised I loved you. It's always been random girls that meant nothing. Then there you were soaking wet from the rain looking like an angel. I heard you talking about marriage with your mom, and I knew I had to go."

Almost instinctively he briefly pressed his lips to hers to stop her from talking. If these were truly their last moments he wanted to enjoy them. "You deserve someone who can give you that fairytale you've always wanted. I am definitely not that someone. Watching you crumble in front of me was the hardest thing I've ever done. It made me sick. Seeing you today made my chest hurt. You look so... robotic. You're not glowing and smiley like ya normally are. All because I let it go on this long."

"Pete..." She started only to choke back a sob. He closed his eyes before he continued. "I was selfish. I actually got you and I didn't want to let you go no matter how much it'd hurt in the long run. Then I started asking you to do things that would make it easy for you hate me, like turning on the girls. Except you did them all and stayed. I watched you sleep for the longest time that morning because I knew it was the last time I'd see you so utterly peaceful. You gotta move on, love. Please."

He flinched when he felt her hand run across his cheek. "Show the world that you're more than the British Strong Style poster girl. Show them who you were before I poisoned you. Find someone who worships the ground you walk on and makes you laugh. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I had to do it. Never thought a woman would affect me like this. My heart went with you when you ran away that night." His words had gotten increasingly quieter until they were whispers.

"How are you going to tell me all of this and expect me to just walk away? You're being selfish, Peter." She told him as steadily as she could. This was the last thing she had ever expected. "I'm always selfish, love. Being with you was selfish. Feeling this way is selfish. Wanting you to be happy is the most selfless thing I've done. You won't be happy with me in the long run." He pressed his lips to hers once more. He couldn't help it. Before it could go too far he stepped back. "Be happy."

She violently scrubbed the back of her hand under her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. "What if I was happy with you? I've felt like a shell for two weeks. Yet all I could think about when I seen you earlier was if you were sleeping right. You look tired. Nevermind the mental hell I'm in, I just cared that you were alright. I begged Tyler to tell me why I wasn't good enough for you that night because that's all I wanted. To be good enough and wanted by Pete Dunne. Why can't we be happy?"

He took a deep breath before shaking his head. Breaking her heart the second time was going to be just as painful as the first. "You're too good for Pete Dunne. I'll drag you down and suffocate your career. I'll start petty fights because me not deserving you will always be in the back of my head. I couldn't even tell you I loved you until today. You're gonna be just fine without me, no matter where you are. And when you find someone who makes you truly happy you'll forger all about me, love."

"Why don't you love me like I love you? Why are you stopping yourself? I literally hit my best friends with a bat just so you knew I'd do anything for you. You let me keep eating meat even though you're so against it. Tell me what I can do to make you see that I mean this. Love me like you obviously want to. I don't care what anyone else says about us as long as I'm happy. I was happy with you. So if you want me happy then let me be the happiest I've ever been again." She sobbed to him.

His breath caught when he heard her words. What was stopping him? He knew she wouldn't just up and leave him. He knew she was honest with her words. "Old habits die hard." He finally settled on telling her. He was afraid he'd get too petty and do something incredibly stupid that would make her hate him. "What's going on in that head of yours?" She asked him as softly as she could manage. Her voice was hoarse from all the crying she'd been doing since they'd been locked in. "You can tell me."

He simply shrugged, eyes avoiding hers. "Pete..." She stopped talking as quickly as she started. In the year that they had been dating she had only seen him like this a handful of times. All of them involving the future. "You're scared." She realised with a frown. "Everyone has flaws, babe. Whatever you're scared of I can help you with, if you let me. I won't judge you. I won't up and leave. It's alright." She told him as she neared him. He couldn't look at her even when she grabbed his hand,

"You helped me cope with horrendous nightmares I've had since I was a teenager. You reminded me to eat when I really didn't want to. Whatever you're scared of... I'm willing to help. You deserve to be loved without fear. Even if I'm not the one you love." She whispered. He chuckled darkly at the words. If only she knew. "It's nothing you should worry yourself with. It's fine." Suddenly he was gone and by the door. "There. Thing's are worked out. Let her go get ready." He loudly stated.

She didn't know what she expected, but silence definitely wasn't it. "Did they leave us in here?" She asked after he knocked without answer. "To be fair they probably thought this would go differently." He mused with a sigh. Her head rested against the wall with a huff. "One of us could be dead and they'd be none the wiser. Great friends we have there." She joked. He chuckled before grabbing his phone. Even from the distance she could tell what was on his lock screen. "You never changed it."

The picture was a fairly recent one that Trent had caught after a long weekend. The two were on the couch fast asleep, Pete's arms wrapped tightly around her to prevent her from rolling off. She could see him stiffen up before sticking his phone back in his pocket. "Pete, I didn't m-" She was interrupted with a look before he spoke. "I wanted to remember what I lost and why I did it." He told her quickly. She held up her phone before he could look away. "I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

He remembered the play argument they had about how cheesy matching pictures were. But she was so excited about the thought that he knew he couldn't say no. "It's my favorite picture of us." She said quietly. He knew it was. She told him constantly. "I'm sorry." Pete said once more without thinking about it. "Yet you won't even try to make this work out." She replied without thinking. His eyes shot to hers quickly. "Because it's been doomed from the start. I'm saving you so much heartbreak."

She stomped her foot like a dramatic teenager. "Who are you to decide that for me? In a year our biggest fight was about the possibility of me being hurt during your matches. That doesn't scream doom and misery to me. In fact it seems really healthy." All at once she realised what his fear was. She was blind for so long. She started talking before he could. "Except your afraid that you'll do something drastic to prove a point. You always have hated being wrong, but I don't see it happening."

"There was a girl at the bar a few weeks ago. Drop dead gorgeous all the way around. If not for Trent I would have got with her." He stopped to take a deep breath. "Not the thought of you finding out, or feeling guilty knowing you were at your place waiting for me to call. Trent physically stopped me from approaching her because he wouldn't let me be that much of an asshole. Do you know why I was there?" She shook her head, eyes on the floor. "Because we were fighting about Travis Banks."

"The night you thought he was hitting on me." She recalled sadly. She had in fact been at her apartment staring endlessly at her phone and eating ice cream. "A part of me wanted him to tell you, because I wanted you to feel how I felt. Like you could lose me. When I told him that he slapped me and took me home. You need someone who doesn't want to sleep with people to hurt you." He told her weakily. Her eyes filled with tears once more. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"But it was only once! You were mad, and drunk, and-" She was cut off by him holding up a hand. "And I can easily do it again. Is that really what you should have to worry about every night I go out? If I'm sleeping with the first pretty girl I see? Because, even to me, that sounds wrong. I didn't want to break your heart." His eyes never left the ground as he spoke. "You can change, Pete. I know that you can. That was obviously the first time you've done that since Trent DIDN'T tell me."

"Love, stop. Stop trying to make excuses for my stupid ass, and start finding someone better. Some things just aren't meant to happen or be fixed. Maybe this is one of them." The tears fell as she slid down the wall slowly. "I don't want to lose you, Pete. We all have flaws and we all fuck up. Please. Just give me a chance to make you happy. Please." She begged brokenly. He crawled over to her and pulled her into his arms against his better judgement. "Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth it."

The feeling of his arms wrapped around her was something that she had missed. "Then stop pushing me away! You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else. I want to be the reason you see relationships are worth it. I want to wake up to your face pressed against the back of my neck every day again. I just want to be yours." Her chest was heaving at this point. He had to stop tears from coming to his own eyes. How had he let this happen? How had he hurt her so bad? "I know, gorgeous. I know."

"Then why won't you let me be happy?" She asked weakly. Pete cleared his throat before he chanced a look at her. He could see half of her tear covered face. Just like that night, he felt his heart break. "I don't want to break you beyond repair. I'm no good." He whispered into her hair. He'd never admit to feeling like he did in that moment. So utterly useless and heartbroken. "You won't. I promise that you won't." She cried into his chest. He tightened his grip on her, not trusting his voice,

She tried unsuccessfully to stop the tears. "Pete Dunne, I love you. I love you like I never have anyone else. Tyler hasn't been able to so much as step outside without me asking if he seen you. I didn't care what was happening to me as long as you were alright. I want you to be alright." He pressed a few kisses to her head before shaking his own. "I'm not, beautiful. Especially after seeing you like this. I love you. I love you. I love you. That's why I made you go. I had to. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry that I made you feel like you had to let me go." She sat up to place her forehead against his, staring into his eyes. He looked so broken. "We can do this. We don't have to hurt. We'll work on your problems and mine. Please, Pete. We'll be stronger than ever. I promise that we can do this." She cupped his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks softly. She could see the tears in his eyes. "I love you." She breathed. "I love you more than you know." He answered, surging forward to kiss her.

Once air became a necessity they broke apart. "You think you can forgive me?" Pete asked softly. She kissed his cheeks with a smile. "Unbreak my heart, Pete Dunne. Scare all of my demons away and I'll do my best to make yours leave. I'll low blow any guy who even looks at me wrong. I'm yours and I always have been." She told him honestly, maintaining eye contact the whole time. He pecked her lips with a hint of a smile. "I promise to do my best to treat you right." Suddenly the door flew open.

A smirk appeared on Pete's lips before she heard a clatter. "Jesus, you two!" Tyler exclaimed. She looked behind her with a questioning gaze. Tyler seemed to be standing against the open door in the hallway. "You realise you share this locker room, right? And we told you we'd open the door eventually?" The younger man asked hurriedly. Suddenly she realised what it had looked like to him. Her face went red before she scrambled off of Pete's lap. "Tyler, you'd know if that's what we were doing.""

A slap echoed when she hit Pete's chest. "Peter! Behave!" She hissed. "You would've heard her d-" Suddenly his mouth was covered by her hand. "He was actually being sweet and gentlemanly. I was crying so he was holding me." She told Tyler honestly. "I feel like I shouldn't ask." Trent said before stepping into the room, Tyler behind him. "So the crazies are back together, yeah? Because when we left it sounded rocky." The hopeful look on Tyler's face made her smile. "You can have your bed back."

Tyler was basically jumping for joy, and she swore that she heard Trent mutter a hallelujah. Pete grabbed her hand with a smirk. "Pete Dunne has his good luck charm back." She joked with a laugh. "I never knew I lost Trent and Tyler." The Birmingham native answered. She slapped his chest once more. "You're such an asshole!" She dramatically stood up. "But you love me." He told her before standing up as well. "So are you still having your match? Or are you gonna drop it anyways?" Trent asked.

She bit her lip nervously. In all honesty she didn't even think she was a hundred percent, but a possible win against Jinny could turn some heads. Before she could even think it all through Pete spoke. "She's taking the match, and we're all gonna be out there to support her." Her eyes widened at his words. "You are?" She asked quietly. He kissed her temple. "We won't interfere unless you ask. Even if you lose. Think of it as us just getting a front row seat to you kicking Jinny's teeth in."

She smiled before looking at the three men. "I'll be honest, I know I'm not at a hundred. In fact if i'm lucky I'm at seventy, but that's not the point. I know that I can do amazing things with my favorite guys out there. Just don't interfere no matter what. I want everyone to know that being Pete Dunne's girl doesn't mean I can't win fair." They all nodded in understanding. "You can do this, sweetheart. We believe in you," Trent said confidently. Pete scoffed. "You could beat her one handed."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks for the words of encouragement!" She laughed. A look at her phone made her gasp. "Oh shit! I gotta get ready!" She yelled. Before she could run away, Pete's arms were around her. "Tape." He whispered in her ear. Tyler took the tape out of his pocket with a laugh. "Got ya covered." She grabbed it with a smile. "Thanks, Tyler. Now I gotta go change" She said with a laugh. "Can I watch?" Pete asked with a smirk. She slapped his chest roughly. "Peter!"

[writingismyhappytime]

Good Little Witch (Part 11)

Angelo Parente x reader ​​​warnings: language, smut, extreme violence and torture, magic, mention of human trafficking

You slump back against the damp wall, curling up instinctively.

You're definitely not having a good time.

"Wimping out on me now?" Marcos sneers down at you, flexing his hand, knuckles throbbing from where. they've connected with your face. "Here I thought you were going to rip my heart out."

You are.

If you can stand.

So far, your snippy comments have earned you a busted up face and maybe a broken rib, you're not quite sure, you've never had one before. You're pretty sure your sister is making more shrieks and sounds of horror over in her corner, and he's not even touching her!

She's more annoying then he is!

"You're such a bully," you gasp, raising your head, hair straggling in front of your blackening eyes. "You'll get what you deserve, Marcos!"

"One day, maybe. But not this day." he chuckles.

So he thinks.

You pull on your chains a little more, feeling that one link give just enough. You've kept pulling and tugging, you haven't given up yet. It's just about to break, and all you need is one fucking hand to use magic ---.

Your sister suddenly gasps, and this time, she draws both of your attention; she's been huddled in her corner, whimpering and flinching every time Marcos hit you, but not offering any assistance. She's weak, she always has been, she can't be surprised that you left her.

The weak never survive.

In fact, you want to punch her, just so she'll shut up!

"Keera, what is it now?" Marcos hisses at her. "If you don't shut the fuck up ---."

"My water just broke," she whimpers, unable to get to her feet. She's kneeling on a pallet of wet straw, clutching her stomach, red pieces of hair curling around her face. You and Marcos both look down, and you hesitate.

Someone is definitely going into labor.

Lovely timing.

"Shit," Marcos gasps, completely forgetting about you as he whirls around, eyes widening. "Shit!"

Well, thank God for the little things.

You use the wall as leverage to get to your feet, barely listening to your sister grown and cry out, contractions starting to have their way with her apparently. You ignore them, straining against the chain, watching the link start to open ---.

Huh?

You freeze, staring at your wrists, watching with widening eyes are they start to become damp, blood starting to form on your skin. You give it a few beats, but then you can feel it; your lips is bleeding, so is your nose.

You're bleeding.

Blood!

You've never been so excited to see it in your life!

Keera must have lost the spell when she went into labor!

Fuck yes for babies!

You feel your lips curl.

Marcos is kneeling in front of your sister, staring at her like he doesn't know what to do. He should be running to get one of the Mikaelsons, tell them that one of their bastards is finally on the way, just a little early.

You suppose anyone would go into premature labor while watching their sister be beaten.

Doesn't mean you care though.

Bitch was letting it happen.

The anti-magic cuffs open with a soft click, no one notices, and you stare down at your hands, seeing the grooves in your skin. They hurt, your entire body hurt, but it's already healing. As long as you have blood on your skin, however, you're going to be just fine.

You're going to kill everyone.

You straighten, your scarlet eyes roving to where Marcos straightens. You raise one finger.

You don't have time to do to him what he deserves, but you're definitely going to make an impact.

Marcos gasps as he suddenly lifts off the ground, and his head twists, eyes staring at you as you raise one hand. Your lips curve into a cruel smile as you step forward, letting him rise into the ceiling.

"I told you, Marcos, I'm going to kill you." you say calmly, seeing him flounder with pleasure. He's reaching so desperately for the walls, trying to find some kind of leverage, but you won't give him any.

You wait a beat, then jerk your hand. Marcos yelps as he suddenly slams into the wall --- once, twice, a few more times until his head starts to cave.

And another time, just for good measure.

Double tap and all that.

Your sister is just screaming, the sound echoing in the cell and into the hallway, a few specks of his blood decorating her off white clothing where she rocks back and forth. You stare at Marcos, at what remains of his bashed skull. He's not breathing from what you can tell, and you hope he's dead, you really do.

He never should have kept living.

Now for Keera.

You look at your younger sister for the first time, really look at her. She reminds you of your mother, she always has. She's tall, with a thicker frame then you, but she's always been so pretty , you were often jealous of her.

You could kill her, you suppose, for being such a cunt.

But can you really kill your own family?

No, no you're not that far gone.

But you can leave her ass to deal with the whole birthing thing, you're definitely not staying around for that.

"Where are you going?" she gasps, sweat already beading on her brow as you make a beeline for the cell door.

"I'm leaving, what's it look like?"

"You're just going to leave me here!?"

"You're kind of having a baby right now. I can't exactly take you with me."

"(Y/N)!"

"What?"

"Help me!"

"Like you helped me? By doing nothing? No problem," you mutter, and stride from the room. You can hear her shrieking after you, but you don't look back, you don't dare. You almost feel bad for abandoning her in the dungeons, but with any luck, maybe it'll cave in and kill her. She'll be out of her misery.

That's your way of thinking.

You quickly head for the uneven stairs, the stone hard beneath your shoes as you climb up them to another level of concrete walls and translucent lights. You curse as there's suddenly a boom, an explosion so loud the ground beneath your feet actually rocks. You stagger, knocking into the stone wall, clutching at it so you don't fall back.

What the fuck is that!?

You hesitate, glancing behind you, holding on tight as more explosions seem to rock the compound, or at least that's what you're assuming is happening. All you can do is wait it out, watch as pieces of dirt shower down from the ceiling.

You can hear shouts, loud, angry voices, but you can't make out the words. So far no one is running down into the lower cells to check on you or what remained of Marcos, so you figure you have a few minutes.

You hope it's Angelo.

You need help.

~~~~~~~

"This is so much fun!" Horror squeals, grinning from ear to ear as he prances forward, Ghost on his heels, looking disinterested as they observe the chaos below them. They're both standing on top of a concrete building, an outpost from the looks of it.

Hellhounds are running rampant across the Mikaelsons compound, and the night is lit up with the fires Horror had set minutes earlier at every entrance. No one would be able to leave, not with hellfire encircling the entire place. Already pained and horrified screams are filling the air, music to Horror's ears.

He's never gotten to do this, he's never gotten to kill and maim a bunch of people at once. He wasn't born in a time when that was possible, not like the rest of his brothers, and he's thoroughly enjoying it!

"Devin, look!" he says excitedly, pointing. Ghost follows his point, watching as three rather young looking men lunge out of the stables. One immediately screams as a hound's sharp teeth close around his ankles, and he doesn't stop screaming as the hound drags him backward into the stables.

Oh, well, now he stopped screaming.

"We used to do this all the time," Ghost says after a moment, fixing the cuffs on his suit. "Before the world became so modern. It's a shame you can't do it anymore."

"Seriously! This is awesome!"

"Now you sound like Vinny."

"So? Look, the hound just took that one's arm off!"

Ghost sighs; he has no real interest in this, he just wants to see this witch. Horror is so fond of her, and Angelo is literally risking everything he has to find her. He's off and about, searching the large place for her.

Ghost and Horror are on lookout, making sure the chaos is ongoing. They don't intend to leave any survivors, except for of course the ones Angelo stated had to live. The hounds are able to tell the difference.

"I don't see any women here," Horror says, his hands on his slim hips. "Do you?"

"No."

"Isn't there supposed to be some?"

"Maybe they're dead."

"The hounds wouldn't have killed them."

"I meant by the fickle human men."

"I guess." Horror sounds disappointed. "But I did want one of them in (Y/N) didn't care. I like witches."

"I'm sure you do, Richard."

"You're no fun anymore, Devin. Where's all your demonic joy, huh? Has Serena annoyed it all out of you?"

"I'm going to push you off this building if you mention her one more time."

Horror mocks him, rolling his eyes as he returns to watching the bloodbath in front of him.

He's enjoying himself, so much.

They need to have family outings like this much more often.

~~~~~~

Angelo is going to go insane if he can't find you soon. He's been looking everywhere, ransacking everything --- where are they keeping you!? He can sense you, you're so close to him! He prowls the white, concrete hallways, kicking open every door he comes across.

So far he's killed maybe six Mikaelsons, at least in the vicinity. He hasn't seen that Italian man yet, despite he'd entered their dinky prison through the mans now burned down cottage.

He's tempted to call for you, but that seems redundant. You won't be able to hear him, not with the carnage ensuing at the moment. Too much screaming.

He pauses at the juncture of two halls, concentrating. He hasn't had your blood in almost a week now, so it's becoming harder for him to find you. He waits a few beats impatiently, longing to find you, make sure you're safe.

(Y/N).

Please.

Where are you?

He wanders aimlessly for a few more minutes, killing a few more guards, leaving their corpses behind like a trail of bloody bread crumbs. His hellhounds are already fanning out, covering what areas of the prison he cannot.

Then, "fucking stupid asshole!"

Ah!

Angelo turns immediately, staring down the hallway he was about to pass. He watches as a armored man goes flying into the wall, impaling himself on the light hanging there. There's a few beats, and then you come striding forward, snarling something before taking his skull in your hand and ramming it against the wall a few times for good measure.

Ah, good witch. You remember the double tap method!

"Red!"

Huh?

You turn, and blink a few seconds.

"Angelo?"

"Red!"

"Angelo!"

You go to move towards him, but he's already in front of you. His hands are closing around you, pulling you against his cool body immediately, clutching you to him. You hesitate, then curl your damp, blood-covered hands into his suit, clinging to him.

He came for you, he didn't leave you here to fend for yourself.

It's really him!

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Angelo whispers into your limp hair, keeping your body close against his. "Sei ferito? amore mio, non riuscivo a trovare voi! Ho guardato dappertutto!"

"Angelo --- Angelo, stop!" you wiggle, finally managing to pull away from his clinging grip, at least enough where you can see his face. "You know I have no idea what you're saying!"

Angelo gives a snort, his hands rising to cup your face. His eyes darken as he sees the bruising and cuts,   but you look better then what he'd hoped. Your cold hands close over his, holding them against your skin for a few moments.

"You came for me," you finally say, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him. "I was starting to think you wouldn't."

"You know me, fashionably late." he responds, kissing your forehead. "I will never leave you, Red. I will always come for you. I promised you I would destroy this compound and everyone in it, and I mean it. Come, we must go. My hounds are killing anyone they find, except your sisters and your father. And the horses. Otherwise everyone is dying."

You hesitate. "My sister, Keera, I left her in the cell. She's in labor."

"Sucks for her, what bad timing. Now let's go." Angelo grabs your hand, pulling impatiently.

"Angelo, she's having a Mikaelson baby."

"Do you want me to order them to kill her then? Or just eat the baby? Honestly, I quite think hounds like the taste of human children, they used to serve them to them at the old parties ---."

"ANGELO."

"What!?"

"Just --- send someone to go get her, but not hurt her!" you huff, tangling your fingers in his, annoyed. "I don't want her to die down there."

"Ugh, fine, whatever --- now let's go. I want to get you out of this festering hole." Angelo curls his nose, walking immediately at such a brisk pace you have a hard time keeping up. You stagger a little, but don't ask him to slow; you want out of there more then anything.

You cling to his hand, aware of your bedraggled appearance. You try very hard not to notice the blood covering the walls, or the true forms of the hellhounds as they pad through every room, every crevice, some covered in such thick amounts of blood their fur looks sticky.

You try not to notice having to step over bodies, the sound of your shoes as they step from one puddle of blood to the next.

You try not to notice the smell. Death is rancid in the air, and you doubt it's a smell you're ever going to forget. It's sickening, and a little fruity, if you're being honest. You press your sleeve against your mouth, letting Angelo guide you expertly to the exit.

He must have memorized the plans you gave him.

He's almost whistling, as if all the chaos and carnage surrounding him don't bother him at all. You suppose it doesn't, he's a pain demon after all --- he must be feasting at the moment. He won't have to eat for weeks after this.

Lucky him.

You probably won't sleep for weeks.

"Here we are," Angelo grunts, letting go of your hand as the two of you reach the exit door. He walks up a few more necessary steps before reaching for the hatch. He gives it one hard shove, the door exploding from the force of his touch. You watch as little pieces of wood disappear above.

Heat immediately rushes down into the hallway, brushing your hair off your shoulders with the force. The sounds of screams and fighting assault your ears, and you grimace. You feel sick, you've already seen more then what you're accustomed too; you're not even sure what kind of organ is clinging to the bottom of your shoe at the moment.

Angelo really knows how to make an entrance.

"Come," he says, turning and offering you his hand. "My brothers are waiting for us above."

"Your brothers?" you wheeze, stepping close to him. His hands close around your hips, and he lifts you up, sitting you easily on the edge of the hatch. He climbs up by himself.

"Yes. Horror is here to help, of course, and my other brother Ghost."

"Who's Ghost?" you ask, letting Angelo help you to his feet.

"An asshole."

You frown. "That sounds like you."

"We are brothers."

Ahuh.

You glance around, staring as the flickering lights garner your attention.

Everything is on fire, but not natural fire, not like what you're used too. The heat is different, almost cold-like --- hellfire? It's completely controlled, burning around the walls as far as the eye can see, despite how large the compound is. You can see it's eating away at certain buildings, but not all of them.

And so many dead...

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? I'm pretty sure most of the Mikaelsons are dead. At least eighty percent, anyway. They didn't expect a visit from me." Angelo says smugly, pulling you into the curve of his arm rather proudly. "I caught them completely by surprise!"

"You certainly did."

You're going to be sick. Yep, that's vomit.

And --- oh, no, you're good.

That's relieving.

You lean into Angelo in relief, letting your head rest against his shoulder. You can just about block everything else out so long as you're close to him, and the way he's holding you --- you're not getting away from him again.

"I'm so glad you came for me," you murmur, knowing he can hear you.

"I would never leave you," he responds, his lips pressing coolly against your forehead. "I will always come for you."

"(Y/N)!"

You blink, turning to look in surprise as Horror quite literally drops in front of you; he must have hopped off the building beside you.

He beams at you, quickly swatting Angelo out of the way so he can hug you. "You're okay!"

"I'm fine." you say, patting his back. You're starting to shiver, it's getting so damned cold! You'd think hellfire would be hot! But, it also depends on the demon casting it, doesn't it?

"We've just about killed everyone," Horror tells you brightly as he leans back, looking giddy. "Isn't it exciting? We're finding some stragglers here and there, but mostly ---."

"What the --- let go of me, you disgusting parasite of the earth!"

Eh?

You and Angelo both turn, looking over your shoulders.

You've never seen a more pleasing sight.

Ailfrid Mikaelson, being dragged from his burning home by a hellhound. The hound had his teeth around the mans leg, dragging him across the pitted earth to where the three of you stand. The house had once been magnificent, all winding corridors and gothic architecture; now, it's just a flaming husk of its former self, and for that, you're glad.

You have no happy memories there.

"This is the guy who's causing you all the trouble?" Horror doesn't look impressed, his hair moving from his shoulders with the breeze. "He's old!"

Ailfrid's eyes cut to where the three of you stand, a look of rage overcoming his face. He struggles against the hound, but he's no match. The hound drags him a few feet to you before promptly sitting, letting the mans leg drop to the ground.

Ailfrid winces, immediately reaching for his injured leg, wheezing.

Everything he's built, it's burning around him. His sons, grandsons and nephews... he's been listening to them die for the past two hours. His men, all those in his service --- burned alive, brutally eaten or murdered by hellhounds, torn apart by demons ---.

"I told you everything you cared about would burn," you say, staring at the oldest living Mikaelson with cold eyes. "Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"You whore," Ailfrid snarls, and the snapping sound as Angelo's hand connects with his face echos. Ailfrid collapses against the earth immediately, screaming, his jaw hanging from an odd angle.

Oops, Angelo didn't mean to hit him that hard, but he won't have anyone talking about you in that way!

You don't seem to mind. You squat down in front of the pained man, gazing at him for a few seconds where he writhes on the ground in front of you. You're unaware of Ghost, stepping up behind you to his brothers sides. He's not saying a word, just studying you, still trying to understand the connection.

"Do you know what it was like, watching the life drain out of my mother?" you ask Ailfrid, reaching forward to flick his dislocated jaw. "It was awful. I could see the wisp of life leave her as you drained her of all of her magic. You didn't even give her a proper burial, you just --- just tossed her away like garbage!"

You clench your hands, your fingers curling against your ripped jeans. "You called me a monster, but that's really what you are. You've hunted me, you've tormented my family for centuries and forced us to bend to your will --- not again."

Ailfrid stares at you, his vision going in and out from the pain. Your red hair is darkening in front of his eyes, turning dark shades until it looks black for him. Those pretty eyes of yours are turning black, the same color of your hair. You're wavy around the edges, he supposes he's starting to hallucinate, but now... now you look like your ancestor, the one he took for a prize.

But he killed her.

He killed her after she completed the ceremony, he made sure she wouldn't trouble him again!

She's come back to haunt him, eh? She's inside of you, that's why you're causing so much destruction --- the bloody witch is getting her revenge after so many years!

"Let me show you what my mother felt as she died," you say, reaching forward with pointed fingers. Your jagged nails press into his chest, right above his heart, and you grin down at him, the feathers tied into your hair drifting with the breeze. He can feel his body suddenly reaching exhaustion, and still --- his heart is beginning to thunder, his blood move quicker. His vision clears for a brief moment, and all he can see is her face --- Morgane is staring back at him through your eyes.

He should have slaughtered her children when he had the chance.

"First, it's like your body is in overdrive," you say, pressing harder. "Your heart is quicker, your blood is running --- you begin to overheat with exhaustion. Eventually, your heart just goes pop --- explodes right in your chest. Excruciating for a few moments, but then it's all over. That's a little too generous for someone like you, isn't it?" your voice is cruel, full of bitterness and anger. You want revenge for what he's done to your family, retribution.

You rise slowly, seeing the look of relief in his eyes.

"Angelo."

"Yes?"

"Let the hellhounds eat him. Make sure they play with their food."

Angelo grins. "As you wish, amore mio."

You turn away.

Your stomach is already flipping, you don't need to watch the hellhounds pounce on the man.

At least he's dead.

There's no coming back from something like that.

"Can we go back?" you ask as you step to Angelo, your eyes on the matted ground. His hands clasp your face, brushing at the grime and blood with his thumbs.

"Where to?"

"Your dank ass castle." you sniffle, and he nods immediately. He pulls you to him, cradling you in his arms and burying his face in your hair. Even now, it smells of cinnamon, of apples, of all the things in the world he loves the most. He sighs against your neck, pressing kisses against your tender skin.

"We can go wherever you want," he murmurs.

Ghost stares.

Oh.

So that's what the witch.....

Well, it makes much more sense now.

Ghost leans back on his heels, crossing his arms. His brother has finally fallen prey to the feelings of his heart, eh? He's finally given in to his human side, the part that still has emotions, that still cares.

It happens to everyone, of course, but Ghost didn't believe it would ever happen to Angelo.

Who could ever love someone like Angelo?

"We're done here," Angelo says, petting your hair as he looks at his brothers, ignoring the screams echoing through the air; at this point it's just background noise. "I'm taking her home."

"Do we have to leave just yet?" Horror looks disappointed. "I mean, there's still some of them alive!"

"Stay and finish them off then. But I'm taking her away from here."

"Fine. Go on. I'll make sure everything here is taken care of." Ghost informs him, clamping his hand tightly in Horrors collar as he tries to run off and finish off any other humans he finds.

"Thank you." Angelo nods, relieved. He wants to get you home, hide with you beneath the covers and cuddle you until you stop shaking. "But remember ---."

"Yeah, yeah, we know who to find." Horror is impatient. "Take her home and I'll see you guys later. Ghost, let go!" He whines, straining forward. "That one's still alive!"

~~~~~

You're not asleep, you can't seem to make yourself. You're lying in bed, Angelo is right behind you, kissing your shoulder, mud during words you're not listening too. It's been two days and youre wide awake

You just, you keep hearing those screams. You know Angelo sent his hounds to protect you, that he'd even enlisted his brothers for help, but... it had been like walking through hell.

All the blood, all the pain filled screams and the smell ---.

You shudder.

"Red?" Angelo murmurs, rising up behind you. He gazes down at you, stroking your hair. He's not sure what the Mikaelsons did to you, other then physically harm you. He didn't give them enough time to get past that stage before he came in hellhounds blazing.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want anything?"

"No."

"Why don't you get some rest, hmm?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" You snap, curling your arms tighter around the pillow. You hurt, all over, despite all of your injuries have healed.

You don't know where your sisters are, Angelo just assures you they're both somewhere safe. The baby your sister carried was stillborn, or so that's what you're being told.

He said your father is dead, but it doesn't matter to you. Everyone who lived on the compound is dead, Horror had counted a minimum of eighty bodies. You know without doubt forty of them had been Mikaelsons, but there's still some out in the world

Angelo is hunting them down for slaughter, of course, but... well, the worst of its over, isn't it?

The Mikaelsons are dead.

Or the important ones are.

They won't come after you again, their reign is over and your family is safe.

Or you're safe, considering what bitchs your sisters turned in too. You don't care what happens to them, you don't want anything to do with them and they you.

You don't even know what your youngest sibling even looks like now.

You're just... tired.

Tired of thinking, of those memories playing over and over in your mind. You remember every disgusting and vile word Marcos said to you before you busted his head open like a melon to the music of your sisters screams.

She's probably scarred for life.

But she also almost let you be tortured and killed, so fuck her. At least you'd tried to save her ten years ago, and it's only been thanks to you that they're free now.

You can't help but think about your ancestor, the one who started it all. Morgane, Ailfrid called her, and her two daughters.

She must have suffered years under his control before she died, her daughters and those after her. You feel so horribly for them, what they must have went through. Was she a blood witch? You're not sure if the trait is hereditary or not, if it just appears or if it's in all witches, just latent.

You know it saved your life.

Still, people are going to come after you, continue to try to kill you. You should disappear, leave everything behind. You can truly live your life now, do whatever you wish and know no one is hunting you.

At least no one you can't handle.

For once in your life you can relax.

You feel numb, and also... angry. You still have so much hatred for the Mikaelsons, it makes your body warm, your fingers curl. You want nothing more then to go back and tear them apart all over again, force their limbs to tear from their bodies over and over!

You hate them!

You hate what they did to your family!

You ---!

"Shh," Angelo shuffles, rolling you onto your back. His hands cup your face, fingers stroking away the damp tears soaking your cheeks; you have no control of them, they just keep seeping from beneath your lashes. "It's alright now, Red. It's over."

"Itll never feel over," you weep, your hands clenching in his shirt, knuckles still bruised. "It's in my head, it won't go away!"

"Shh," Angelo kisses your cheeks, your nose and lips. "Do you want me to make it go away, Red?"

"Can you?" You whisper, pressing your face into his neck. "I don't want to keep seeing it, Angelo. I can hear them --- what they said to me, what they did to my sisters... their screaming ---."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Even closed you can see the image of Marcos busted skull, of the men you killed on your way to leave the compound. You don't like killing, you don't like the blood --- but you have to defend yourself!

"I'll make it go away," Angelo promises you, brushing at your hair soothingly. "Trust me."

You do.

Completely.

You shudder, snuggling your body closer to his as he feathers your shoulder in soft kisses. You know what he's going to do, you even tilt your head a little to make it easier.

You just want to sleep, rest, for it to be peaceful.

You don't want to think about it anymore.

Angelos lips brush your throat, the thin, white scars of where he's bitten you before barely visible.

You barely feel the sting of his teeth as they sink into your skin anew, digging deep as your blood seeps to the surface. His hand curves around your waist, dragging your stomach against his as he drinks, rather greedily. He can't help himself, he loves the way your blood tastes --- your magic adds an extra spice that's so very rare to find.

You sigh, feeling your eyes already start to drift closed.

You're used to him biting you, oddly it's almost comforting.

Angelo sighs, his breath rushing against your skin as he reluctantly lifts his head, his tongue running against the puncture marks slowly. Your blood decorates his lips, and he hums as your blood starts to heat his body, making his skin warm to the touch.

His eyes drift half-closed, fingers brushing your hair from your face.

Your blood is just... addictive. It's no wonder demons love feeding from witch's until they're bled dry, it's near impossible not too. Angelo intends to feed from you for the rest of his life, however, since you're going to stay with him for the rest of eternity.

He has to shift, his body promptly reacting to yours. It's immediate his want for you, his desire to have you. He tries to push it back, he knows how exhausted you are. Still, your eyes flutter open, almost dreamily. He has your blood, so your body is in tune with his once more, and it knows what his wants, and it responds.

Your lips find his, your hands rising to cup his face. Your tongue teases his lips, parting them before curling around his own. He groans, his hand tightening in your side, drawing you against him hungrily.

He hasn't had you in days! It feels like much longer, but his hands remember your every curve, the things you like, the things he's showed you you enjoy. You're putty in his hands, just like you always are, your body opening up to his.

There's a pleasant, sleepy feeling to your body; you're awake, you know you are, but there's a haze, it's almost dreamlike. You can feel him touching you, your hands exploring his back as he rolls over you, lips once more on your throat. Your eyes are fluttering, and everything just feels so... pleasant.

It always does with Angelo; he takes care of you, he provides for you --- you know you'll be treated as a queen so long as he's around. He already has you set high on a pedestal, and he gives you whatever you want --- he's even said as much.

Still... do you really want to stay?

At the moment, all you can think is yes. Yes, you want to stay with him, forever. You want to enjoy life with him, watch the days pass, maybe even one day have a child.

Right?

Or is that just the things he wants?

What do you want?

You bite your lip, your hips shifting as Angelo's hand drifts between them, quickly making your muddled thoughts disappear. You moan, your head falling back.

You can't think anymore, you don't want too. All you can do is enjoy the pleasure Angelo gives you, his skilled fingers quickly creating waves of pleasure inside of you. You're already hot, your thighs are clenching around his wrist --- how does he do this to your body?

"I want to make you feel good," Angelo whispers in your ear, your breath brushing across his cheek as he leans over you, curling and thrusting his fingers inside of you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your sensitive bud, knowing it's driving you insane. "I want to make you feel amazing, (Y/N)."

"You do," you manage, arching your back, your lips permanently parted in pleasure. "You always do!"

Angelo's pleased, kissing you quickly to stifle your moans. You're soaking wet, just as he expected you to be, and from your clenching muscles you don't have much longer. Your arms weave around his neck, holding him close to you as your hips grind instictively against his palm, begging for more from him. You have no control over yourself anymore, your body is doing what it needs to find release.

And it does.

You finally cry out against his lips, pleasure suddenly wracking your body and making it quiver in his grasp. He groans as your thighs tighten, your muscles clenching around his digits as you reach your orgasm. You go limp afterwards, fireworks still dancing in front of your eyes, your body practically humming with contentment.

You feel so... relaxed.

Angelo gazes down at you, his eyes soft.

He won't say the words, but he's in love with you. He wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to care for you, to keep you safe and out of harms way. He'll do anything to keep you. He'll take you anywhere in the world you want to go, build you a home on any land you desire. He'll buy you things, mountains of clothes and books --- you seem to like books.

He'll pleasure you until you're so exhausted you can't handle it anymore.

He loves you.

He wants to be close to you, closer then he is even now. He's had your blood, he knows what you taste like, but you've never had his.

He knows he shouldn't share his blood with you, it's taboo, weak. To give someone else your blood, in any amount, gives them extreme power over you. You'll be able to sense his emotions, where he is, what he's feeling at any moment. There'll be nothing he can do that you won't know about.

But that's how it is right now. He knows everything about you through your blood, although yours will leave his system much quicker then his will. His fingers brush through your hair, the decision already made up in his mind.

He'd scorned Ghost for sharing his blood to prolong his precious humans life, but now he's about to do the same for no other reason then he wants to be closer to you. He wants you to see that he's serious, that he'll never change his mind in his want or feelings for you, and what other way to do it?

"(Y/N)," he murmurs, lightly pecking your lips, drawing your fleeting attention to him.

"Mm?"

"I want you to drink from me."

What?

You hesitate before forcing your heavy eyes open, gazing up into his dark eyes. "Drink from you?"

"Yes. Take my blood as I've taken yours. Drink from me." He cups your face. "Let's be closer then we've ever been before. I want you to know how I feel about you, that I'll never change. I will never leave you, I will never hurt you --- I'll give you anything and everything you can ever want. I want to prove that."

"Angelo ---."

"Please," he kisses the corner of your mouth. "Drink from me, Red."

You sigh in consent, your mind immediately content to do whatever he wants. You'll do it if itll make him happy, you don't care. You're too tired to fight the compulsion anyway.

Angelo smiles down at you, stroking your cheek a few moments.

You're so beautiful, sprawled out beneath him, completely his.

This way, he'll be completely yours.

The two of you will be so in tune with each other, it'll be hard to tell a difference!

He brushes his hair off his neck, his thumb pressing into the skin. His nail quickly slices one deep line into his flesh, his black blood immediately oozing to the surface.

"Drink," he murmurs, tilting his head out of the way. You must hurry before the wound heals.

You don't hesitate, your lips cover the spot, fingers tangling in his hair as you hold his throat in place. Your eyes flash open the instant the ancient blood touches your tongue, immediately a bright red as your entire body tenses.

Angelo groans, pressing into you, a tingling feeling shooting across his body as you begin to drink from him, suckling harshly on the open  wound. It feels amazing, someone drinking from him for once.

Your arms tighten around him, holding him.

He tastes... strange At first, his blood had burned your tongue, letting you know quickly you shouldn't be doing this. It's a light stream, you're not getting very much, as Angelo doesn't bleed like any other creature. The wound is already healing despite your touch, and after a moment it's completely gone, leaving you with just a few remaining drops.

Oh.

Your head falls back, lips parted as your eyes flutter.

His blood... it's so... old and.... what's this feeling? It's so warm, it steals over your entire body, almost like a hum. You snuggle into him, his lips finding yours, tasting his own blood on your tongue.

You like the way this feels, it's nice. You feel safe, comforted with him touching you, in control again. It's been a long time since you've really felt in control of anything, even yourself --- everything has always been so crazy for you, able to chance in an instant.

Now it just... it's calm.

You like it.

You kiss him deeply, your bare legs finding their way around his waist, winding tightly. You pull him closely to you, knowing what you want from him, what he needs to give you. You want it now, you don't want to have to wait.

Angelo gives in to you, just like he will for the rest of his existence.

His hands curl around your thighs, pushing them apart as he settles between them. You only barely hear the shuffle of whatever clothing he'd been wearing. His lips are so heavy on yours, demanding your full attention as you squirm beneath him.

You love him.

There's no doubt in your mind that you feel for him, that you never want to leave his side ever again. You want to give him whatever he wants, even if it is a child, even if he wants you to kill an entire city worth of people --- whatever he wants, you will do.

Your hands run down his sides, curling around his hips and urging him closer. He's suckling on your neck, leaving marks against your skin as he situates himself. His hand curls around his cock, and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, your wet folds parting for him. You gasp as he sinks inside of you, your body curling up to his instantly.

Already he feels amazing, it's like electricity is dancing across your body, making every touch sting, every kiss spark. Everything is almost a blur to you, but you know it's the same for him. He's moving inside of you, bracing himself over you, lips clinging to yours.

Your body is his, his body is yours.

It's how it should be.

It's how it'll always be.

Forever.