#(my mom did not ask if i got ashes this year

[bloomingonionbitch]

also while shuffling books around today and unpacking the last few boxes i found TWO "Picture Book of Saints"!!!!

i only remember having one copy as a kid so where did the second one come from?????

[quaintii]

Across the Street

Part 1

Summary: It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

Warnings: no smut yet... just some build-up. Miguel x f!reader (I got the pic from Twitter, the @ is @kimmy_arts0912!!) also sorry that its hella long, plot ykk (pls read a/n at end!)

Part 2 <-

Part 3 <-

On a Sunday afternoon, you decided to go out with your friends at the mall. You hear a knock on front your door and open it. "Hey! I came here early again, didn't I?" Your friend said "Hey Ash! You motion your hand inside your house.

She takes a seat on the couch, smiling and giggling. "Heyy, why are you like that?" You furrow your eyebrows together with a grin on your face, giving her some juice.

You jolt as she stands up quickly and grips your shoulders.

"Did you see that guy across the street?!" She fans herself with her hand, exaggerating and giggling. You raise your eyebrows, not knowing who she's talking about. "No..., why? You like him?" You nudge her shoulder with yours in return. "A man like that.. can fuck my brains out!" She exclaims.

You quickly slap her thigh in response, getting a groan from her. "Fuck you do that for?!?" "My parents are home! You mumble. In shock, she covered her mouth with her hand. A few seconds later, you hear a ring from the front door.

You open your door to your whole friend group, the 5 of you in total. You greet them all in and spend a couple minutes inside before heading to the car altogether, carpooling.

"Hurry up!" One of your friends yell at the other one. Your eyes avert to what Ashley was talking about earlier, you see a big U-haul truck with multiple men pulling out furniture.

None seemed to be the man your friend described until you see a man from the huge window pane talking and motioning his hands where to place the furniture. Seems like your friend wasn't exaggerating at all. He wore a black button up shirt, some buttons loosened on top. Adjourned with some dark grey work pants that fit between some-what tight and loose.

What really caught your eyes were his glasses, sitting perfectly on his nose bridge. As he looked around his surroundings, he caught your gaze and gave a small grin. You snap out of it and return back to reality and enter the backseat, engine starting and loud booming music playing.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

You sit down with your legs crossed over the other, waiting for the waiters to take the group's orders. You rest your chin on your palm, sighing. One of your friends seem to notice.

She touches your shoulder, "Something up?" She asks. You nod your head, resting it on her shoulder. "Yeah... my parents told me I have to start paying rent to stay at the house." You let out another breathy sigh. "I mean I don't even know how I'm going to manage when I'm focusing on paying back my student debt from last year and with my one job not being enough.." You muttered softly.

Your other friends eavesdrop and reassure that it'll be fine and to not pressure yourself into becoming a total workaholic. you let out a small laugh and the waiter finally heads towards your table.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

The next morning you wake up with a bad hangover, only remembering your friends' went to a club and its a blur after that.

You get up and change your bed sheets and take a relaxing shower. As your in your bed with your laptop working on your AP classes, your mom barged in.

"Get your ass up and do something! I'll be making you pay rent by the end of the month!" She raised her tone at you, annoying your peace.

"Mom, I'm already busy with paying my student debt from last year with my on-going job right now!" You exclaim back. "I've applied to other places for a job, they keep rejecting me." Your mom gave you nothing but a scoff and a cold glare. "Are you positive you've looked everywhere for a job nearby?!" She stepped into your room further.

You nod your head, annoyed how she always had an attitude with you.

"Well it looks like you didn't look close enough, the new neighbor across the street is looking for a babysitter." She said while touching your posters, eyeing the window.

"How do you know?" You asked. "He posted an obvious sign outside his front yard 3 days ago." Your mom sighed. "Look.. just give that one a try or move somewhere else with your friends." She's finally out of your bubble.

You groan and place your head on your laptop as you closed it. You slip into your shoes and head downstairs and walk across the street. "Seriously, what a nagging bitch.." You mumble under your breath and ring the doorbell.

The door opens sooner than you expected, facing a tall figure towering over you. It's him.

"May I help you, Ms?" He raised his eyebrow, expecting a response from you.

Finally being infront of him hit you like a stone brick, your vocal chords thrown out the window. You clear your throat. "Good morning, I don't mean to be a bother to you but I heard you're wanting a babysitter..?"

"Oh yeah, that reminds me..are you available later in the afternoon? If not, tomorrow if you're not." He gave off a small smile. "For afternoon, yes but if you don't mind me asking what for?"

"Oh sorry," he places one of his hands on his hip, other on the back of his neck. "For an interview, just want to do a small background check, that okay with you?" He tilts his head to the slide, letting a subtle smile stretch across his lips.

You nod and shake his head, heading back home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

You walk up to his door to knock and check your phone. 4:05 p.m. You avert your eyes at him as he opens the door, smiling and greeting you inside. Miguel remains standing while you take a seat. He looks at you, studying your face, your movements, and the way you sit down. Once you make yourself comfortable, he sighs, looking away.

"Can I take a look at that?" He asked and you slide the folder file his way. He nods a couple times as he flips through the papers and starts typing on his computer.

"Do you have any experience with taking care of babies?"

He asks quietly.

"Yeah, I always babysat when I was in highschool."

He nods, seeming satisfied with the answer you gave. Miguel was quiet for a few moments, his mind going over a few things. He eventually speaks, and when he does, his voice sounds almost like a whisper.

"Could I trust you with taking care of my daughter then? With her safety and everything?"

He was quiet again.

"She's... very precious to me. I don't want her to get hurt."

"Yes of course! I would gladly take great care of her for you sir." You responded politely.

"Very well then."

He remains silent, looking at you for a moment longer, thinking about what to say next. The man then nods and starts talking again.

"She's five, and her name is Gabriella. She's a little angel... and she's mine."

Miguel took a breath and sighed, rubbing his face.

"She'll be home in a couple hours; I'll be gone..she's at her mother's house right now. I was planning on telling her that she'll have a babysitter, so she'll be excited."

He starts walking but then stops again. He then looks at you again and nods, as if he was thinking of something.

"Oh, I just need to set some rules and expectations for you to stick by, if you don't mind."

Miguel waits for you to acknowledge his words.

Your face turns a soft red, "Sorry, I was just spacing out but yeah of course." You smile back.

Miguel chuckles when you say you space out, and nods to acknowledge your answer.

"That's completely fine."

"First rule; you're responsible for her safety while I'm gone. No strangers can come in and stay, no party, etc." He seems to be thinking of more rules to add, taking a moment.

"Second; be nice to her. She's young and is easily scared or sad. So be kind."

He nods as if he finished, but then goes silent again.

"Third; no boys allowed without my permission. It's a rule for everyone, honestly." You continuously agree to his terms.

Miguel nods, still looking at you. His eyes seem to take a quick glance down at your clothes, studying you once again. He seemed to stare at your body as his gaze moved across your clothes; he didn't care that he was staring at you.

"I think that's it. Any questions?" "Nope!"

"Very well." Miguel nods, as if he was satisfied with the answer you gave.

"Then you will begin your babysitting job tonight when Gabi is here..." He pulls his cell phone and looks at the time on the screen before looking back at you.

"...in 2-3 hours. She'll be excited to see you, so make sure to make her smile." Miguel smiles at you and nods once again.

Miguel's eyes go back to your body, his gaze slowly moving across your curves from top to bottom. He then looks away.

"You will also find two numbers on the fridge; mine and the number for our family doctor. They are for emergencies."

Miguel then crosses his arms.

"That's all I have to say. Gabriella will be here in two hours. She'll knock three times before entering, okay?"

"Got that," you noted mentally.

Miguel nods one more time. "Alright, I'll be gone then. Don't worry, Gabriella is very easy to take care of."

He smiles and starts walking to the front door again. Before leaving, he waits to see if you had anything to add.

"See you tomorrow then Ms." You shoot a smile at him and head to the door first, which unexpectedly you stumble over a Barbie doll car. You stop from tripping onto your knees as you feel calloused hands brush over your waist, slightly gripping onto your skin. His hands around your waist made you shiver, the small skin to skin contact emitting some heat to your core.

You regain your posture quickly, embarrassed of yourself. "I'm sorry.." You blurt out. "Its fine really, Gabi tends to leave a trail of her toys around the house", he laughs lightly. "Ah okay...see you tomorrow then Mr.." You wait for his response. "Mr. O'Hara is fine." He says before shutting the door.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: srry its pretty long, you guys can tell me down in the comments if you want a part 2 or if you'd like this to be a slow burn but somewhat fast? leave any tips!! ty :3

EDIT: PART 2

[luddlestons]

I was surprised and delighted to see so much interest in the notes on the last post I did about my silly little AU where everything is perfect and Orym gets so many boyfriends

For those curious about the 'plot' of this AU:

Orym and Will have been married for 15 years; they got married at 21 and moved out of Zephrah to Emon for a bit before moving to Jrusar, where everybody's at nowadays

Orym and Will meet Ash when Fearne invites Ash to Jrusar's local kink club (bc this is FULLY self-indulgent). And of COURSE Ashton is into letting this extremely hot little man tie them up while his husband watches. Orym & Will are poly but have never had another romantic partner before, and they spend a couple months just fooling around with Ash before asking to Actually Date.

Dorian is an old friend of Orym's from when they were living in Emon. He got to know Orym while he was in college, but after graduation, he moved back to his family in the Silken Squall. Much like in canon, he didn't wanna stay there, and he ends up moving to Jrusar as well. He stays in Will and Orym's house for a few weeks while he's getting settled, and meets Ashton at that point (and spends a while trying to ignore that he's slightly jealous that Orym and Will got a boyfriend and it's not him.)

Eventually Dorian moved in w/ Fearne and gets a job at a coffeeshop that's owned by Opal & Ted's dad (Dariax also works there, and eventually Fyr'a and Morri do too probably idk). It's close to where Ashton works, so they get to know each other completely outside of the Orym/Will situation that's going on

Dorian starts dating Ash way before the other two, but after some amount of months I did not determine, they do all end up together. This is mostly orchestrated by Will, who has known about Orym's crush on Dorian for years now (and has been teasing him about it forever) and Ashton, who saw that shit a mile away.

Cyrus also shows up to be his dumbass self

Orym's mom visits one (1) time and decides she is adopting Ashton

[aleprouswitch]

Thirty years ago today, my favorite album and one of the most important albums in rock was unleashed onto the world. During one particular Hole show, Courtney Love answered a male heckler with "You want to fuck me? I'm not a woman, I'm a fucking force of nature!". In these twelve songs, listeners all over the world got to hear for themselves what a force of nature Courtney truly is.

The first time I heard Courtney Love screaming in "Violet", I felt like my soul had been ripped in half. I was an angry kid from a broken, abusive home, and her ability to wail into the aether resonated with me in a way that nothing else did. The older I got, the more her lyrics made sense to me, and I came to identity with this album not just for its angry moments, but its fragile moments as well.

Courtney spent much of her childhood being passed around between family members, group homes, juvenile centers, etc. because nobody wanted her or knew what to do with her. At the age of fifteen, the vice principal of my high school waited until I walked ahead, turned to my mom, and asked, "What's wrong with her?". Well, Vice Principal, a lot was wrong with me, and I wasn't interested in hiding it.

Courtney Love never hid all of her flaws back then, and she still doesn't. In a 2010 interview, she quipped "Maybe I'm just 'deeply wounded'...maybe that's why screaming feels so fucking good". Likewise, listening to Courtney scream gave me the courage to scream too, and now I'm doing it in front of other people semi-regularly.

To this day, the Vice Principals of the music industry are still mouthing "What's wrong with her?" about Courtney, and they don't even try to hide it. The truth is that she is the embodiment of a phoenix, rising from the ashes time and time again. She survived when most predicted she wouldn't. She lives through this, and she'll keep living, and ultimately, so will I.

Something is wrong with us, and thank god for that.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

PLEASE can you do part 2 of jealousy with tommy lee

Jealousy (part 2) » Tommy Lee

Pairings: Stepdad!Tommy Lee x Stepdaughter!Reader

Summary: Tommy is jealous when he finds out that his 18 year old stepdaughter is going on a date.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is 18), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, rough sex, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, spanking, orgasm denial, use of pet names

A/N: This is part 2 to @marvelobsessed134 request and thank you to the lovely anonymous person who asked for a part 2🩵 part 1 can be found in my Tommy Lee (Sebastian Stan) Master List

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You walked in the house with a smile on your face, quietly closing the door behind you. You froze when the living room light turned on.

“What time is it?” Tommy asks, taking an inhale from his cigarette.

“Almost 1am.” You answered.

“I thought I told you to come home before midnight.” He says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“You did, but mom said I could stay out late.” You tell him. “Besides, I’m 18 and I can do whatever the hell I want.” You say with attitude.

Tommy chuckles, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray that’s on the coffee table.

“Come here.” He says.

You slowly approached him. You yelped in surprise when Tommy grabbed your wrist and laid you across his lap. He bunched your dress up above your hips. You gasped when he ripped your panties off.

“Since you think you’re a big girl, then I’m sure you can take a spanking like one.” He says, rubbing his hand on your ass cheeks.

A whimper left your lips when he landed a harsh smack on your ass, your skin stinging. Another harsh smack was landed on your ass. He did that sixteen more times. By the time he was done spanking you, your ass was red as a cherry and your eyes were teary. Your pussy was also dripping wet. He practically manhandled you to get you to sit upright.

“Get on your fucking knees.” Tommy demands.

You practically scrambled off of his lap and got on the floor in between his spread thighs. You watched as he unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, pulling down his jeans just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You couldn’t help but stare at his size. You knew he was big from what you felt earlier, but you didn’t know that he was this big.

“It’s not gonna suck itself.” He says, gesturing to his cock.

Your hand wrapped around his cock and pumped it a few times before you licked the underside of his cock from his base to his tip. You moaned when his precum got on your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his tip and slowly took his whole cock in your mouth. Tommy grew impatient. He placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed your head the rest of the way down. You gagged when his tip hit the back of your throat. The tip of your nose was practically touching his lower abdomen. He gathered your head, putting it in a ponytail. He helped you bob your head up and down on his cock. You placed your hands on his thighs, your nails digging in his skin. Tears rolled down your cheeks every time his tip hit the back of your throat. Drool pooled inside of your mouth and dripped out of the corner of your mouth.

“Tell me, baby girl…” Tommy starts. “Do you enjoy making me jealous?” He asks.

You tried your best to shake your head no.

“Then why did you make me jealous by going on that ridiculous date with that boy?” He asks.

A small laugh left Tommy’s lips.

“Oh that’s right. Your mouth is too full to answer.” He chuckles.

You whined around his cock, looking up at him innocently.

“Fuck…” Tommy panted, tilting his head back against the couch.

His grip on your hair tightened causing you to whimper. Tommy felt his orgasm start to build up. His hips moved upwards, thrusting in your mouth to chase his high. Soon his orgasm was nearing and he came in your mouth. Tommy let go of your hair and pulled his cock out of your mouth, tapping his tip against your lips.

“Swallow.” He says.

You swallowed his cum and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him that you swallowed all of it.

“Good girl.” Tommy praises. “Hands and knees.” He demands, pointing at the spot next to him on the couch.

You stood up from the floor, your knees red from being on the floor for so long. You got on your hands and knees next to Tommy, patiently waiting for him to make the next move. He maneuvered himself so he was face to face with your pussy. A loud gasp left your lips when Tommy licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

“God damn, I knew your pussy would taste good.” Tommy says.

You expected him to eat you out, but he didn’t. He unexpectedly slid two fingers in your pussy, earning a moan from you. You quickly grabbed the couch pillow in front of you, moaning into it so you didn’t wake your mom. Tommy’s fingers fucked you relentlessly. His fingers curled inside of you, almost immediately hitting your sweet spot. Your hands clutched the pillow. Tommy’s other fingers rubbed your clit fast. Your arms gave out on you and your chest was against the couch while your ass was in the air, on full display for Tommy. That created a new angle for Tommy’s fingers. You already knew that you weren’t going to last long with his fingers fucking you like this. Before you knew it, your orgasm was beginning to build up. Your pussy squeezed around his fingers, letting him know that you’re going to cum soon. Tommy stopped his movements with his fingers and abruptly pulled his fingers out of your pussy, making you whine in frustration. That earned you a smack on your ass.

“Stop your fucking whining.” Tommy says.

You felt Tommy moving behind you. He lined his cock at your tight entrance and thrusted his cock inside of you in one hard thrust.

“Tell me, baby…” He starts. “Did you let that boy touch what’s mine?” He asks.

“I let him kiss me.” You say quietly.

Tommy wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled you up so your back was against the front of his body.

“Daddy can’t hear you. Speak up.” He says.

“I let him kiss me.” You repeated, saying it a little louder.

“Is that all you two did?” He asks.

“W-We made out in his car.” You stuttered through a moan.

Tommy chuckles before letting go of your hair. His hand pushed you forward, your head hitting the couch pillow. His thrusts were relentless.

“You have no idea how much fucking trouble you’re in, baby.” He says.

Tommy grasped your hips tightly and began thrusting harder than he did earlier. The smell of sex filled the living room. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing against your walls. Your moans were muffled by the couch pillow.

“You really thought you could get away with going out with that boy, huh?” Tommy says with jealousy in his voice.

“I-I- oh fuck!” You moaned in the pillow. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” You say, trying to sound confident which didn’t last long.

Tommy leaned over you, his chest touching your back.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Tommy whispers in your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” He practically growls.

A loud moan was muffled by the pillow when his cock hit your sweet spot. You felt your orgasm building up again.

“D-Daddy, please let me cum!” You whimpered desperately.

“I don’t think so, honey. You’re not cumming till I do.” He says.

You whined in frustration again which earned you another harsh smack on your ass.

“What the hell did I say about whining?” He asks.

“Not to.” You say.

“Then quit your fucking whining before I give you something to whine about.” He says.

Pleasure took over your body and your legs began to shake. You felt your orgasm coming closer and closer to the edge, but you knew Tommy would deny you again if you said anything. His thrusts got sloppier when his orgasm was building up.

“Fuck…” Tommy moans.

After a few more thrusts, Tommy came inside of you. He reached his hand around to your front, blindly finding your clit and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock.

“Cum.” Is all he says.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moaned loudly into the pillow as you came harder than you did earlier. Your cum dripped down your inner thighs and soaked Tommy’s cock. His thrusts came to a stop and he pulled out. He watched as his and your cum mixture dripped out of your pussy for a moment before pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt, along with zipping and buttoning his jeans.

“Go get cleaned up and go to bed.” Tommy says, patting your ass.

You stood up from the couch, your legs a little wobbly.

“One more thing…” He stops you in your tracks. “You’re not seeing that boy again.” He says.

You just scoffed and went upstairs to your bedroom to change out of your dress and to clean up. Little did Tommy know that you have another date with that boy next Saturday. You were definitely going to enjoy making your stepdad more jealous than he already is.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

-Bucky’s Doll

[onlyfezco]

Happy New Year, Ma - Fezco

Summary: After Fez smashes Nate’s face in, you come over to help take care of his hand.

Fezco x Reader

Word Count: 1,330

Author’s Note: This started because I kept rewatching that scene of Fez beating Nate’s ass and I was turned on from it. Anybody else? No? Just me? Okay lol. Also, this should have been posted like January 2nd lol. My bad.

“What?”

“Let me in Ash.”

“What you doin’ here,” Ash question through the screen door. 

“I’m here to help,” you replied as you held up your mom’s first aid kit as proof.

Ashtray huffed then opened the screen door. 

“Where is he?”

Ash nodded his head in the direction for you to follow. “Kitchen.”

You made your way down the hallway already knowing your way around the O’Neil home. Once in the kitchen entryway, you saw Fez, closing the lid on a Tylenol bottle, his hand haphazardly wrapped in gauze. 

You sighed shaking your head at the sight. “Really, Fezco?”

Fez turned around to see your disappointed expression. His eyes trailed down your body to see you still in your New Year’s Eve dress, a long cream coat, heels still on, with a black bag in tow. 

“What you doing here? Go back to the party,” Fez said shaking his head, then walked pass you. 

“I’m here to clean up your hand.”

“Don’t need any help. Took care of it.”

“Like you took care of Nate,” you asked, annoyance in your voice. 

“You come over here just to tell me I messed up,” Fez asked, plopping down on the couch.

“No... seriously Fez. Let me help.”

Fez eyed you considering your offer. All he had to clean up his hand was water, soap, and gauze. “Fine.”

Relief filled your eyes, your lips turning up into a small smile. “Bathroom please.” You quickly took your coat off, dropping it on the couch before you turned, going down the hall knowing Fez would follow. You sat your mom’s first aid kit on the counter, taking out the supplies you would need. 

“Where you get all this from?”

“My mom’s cabinet. My house was only a few doors down from the party. I knew you wouldn’t have anything to take care of that,” you said, nodding your head towards his messed up hand. 

Fez put the toilet seat down then sat. You reached for his hand and began unwrapping his attempt to cover up his cuts.

His hand was bruised and still bleeding. Your face winced at the sight. “Oh Fez.”

Fez just sat there quietly not making eye contact with you. Nate deserved what he got, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes. 

You noticed a tiny shard of glass still in his skin. “Did you even try to clean this up?”

“Not exactly a doctor over here.”

You rinsed his hand off in the sink then dried it off. Cleaned up the skin between the cuts with some alcohol. You put a little Neosporin on the cuts to help them heal. For just a moment, you held his hand looking at the cuts and bruises. Your thumb moving back and forth over his enact skin. 

Pulling out a bandage to began wrapping up his hand, you broke the silence. “Why’d you do it, Fez? I know Nate Jacobs is an ass and I don’t doubt he deserve it, but... why at a party in front of everyone?”

Fez was quiet for a moment. Just watching you wrap the bandage around hand and through his fingers. “Remember the raid I told you about?” You just nodded. “He tipped them off.”

Your face scrunched up, anger clouding your eyes. You didn’t question how Fez knew it was Nate. You believed him. If Fez and Ash wouldn’t have had time to flush all the drugs they had, Fez would be in jail, Ash would probably be in foster care, and their grandma sent to a home. The thought made your blood boil. You tried to put all your focus into carefully wrapping Fez’s hand. Not too tight so he could still feel his fingers, but tight enough to stop any bleeding or the bandage from falling off.

“But why at the party?”

“Rather me have pulled up to his house?”

You finished wrapping his hand then began putting up your things. “No, but... witnesses Fez. And that family has pull in this town. What’s to stop him from pressing charges?”

“He ain’t gonna do nothin’,” Fez replied confidently. 

“You don’t know that,” you said annoyed how easily he downplayed the situation. 

“Trust me, ma,” Fez said standing up, now looking down at you. “Nothin’s gonna happen. And if it does, that’s for me to worry ‘bout.”

You stared up into Fezco’s crystal blue eyes. You sucked your teeth then looked away. “Fine. Whatever.” Then you turned and zipped up your bag, completely over this night.

“I’m sorry.”

Anger turned to confusion, turning your head to face him. Your expression asking the question your lips didn’t have to say.

“For ruinin’ the start to your New Year. You should be at that party with your friends. Not here with me.”

You reached out for his good hand. “You are my friend, Fez. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“Nah, you were suppose to be takin’ a shot or kissin’ some guy. Not watching me punch Nate in the face.”

You chuckled. “Well, I don’t drink. I see how my friends get and somebody has to be the sober one. As for the kissing part... I’m kinda lackin’ in that department.”

Fezco was staring you down making you nervous. You began to drop his hand and look away, but he quickly picked it back up, lacing your fingers between his. You glanced down at your interlaced fingers, your cheeks growing hot. 

“That’s hard to believe,” Fez said. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you replied, “well, believe it.”

Both of you were silent just staring at one another. You could practically hear your heart beating in your chest. Fez was moving in closer to you and before your brain had time to process what was happening, his lips were hovering over yours.

Fez’s voice came out softer than you’ve ever heard it before, “Can I?”

You didn’t trust your mouth to speak properly so you settled on nodding your head. Fez took the leap and closed to small gap in between you two. His hand that was holding yours let go and came up to your neck, his thumb gently touching your cheek. 

He was being so sweet and tender with you, but you wanted more. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, so now you were chest to chest. 

Fez was trying his best not to move his bandaged hand, but he couldn’t help himself. His other hand wrapped around your back, a moan leaving your lips. 

The two of you got lost in each other. You began to feel off balance a little, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible, you taking a step back. Then you felt your back hit the sink counter. Fezco yelped in pain, taking a step away from you, his hands leaving your body. 

Your hands shot up to your mouth, covering your lips. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you repeated over and over feeling guilty for his hand getting smashed between your backside and the hard counter top. 

“Nah,” Fez replied holding his hand tight to his chest. “Ain’t your fault.” His hand stung, the skin not under the bandage turning red. 

You grimaced at his hand making Fez feel bad that you were feeling bad because of him. 

“Hey,” he said catching your attention dropping his hand so you wouldn’t stare at it feeling guilty. Once you made eye contact with him, Fezco continued. “Happy New Year, ma.”

You smiled up at the ginger, your heart filling with joy. “Happy New Year, Fezco.” You watched the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile, his cheeks turning a light shade of red before you spoke again. “Let’s go put some ice on that hand of yours,” you said sweetly feeling bad for the extra pain he was in now. You grabbed his good hand then led him out the bathroom. 

[vastderp]

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being the reason my mom and her boyfriend broke up?

My (23) mom has been with this person since I was 7 years old. They do not nor have they ever lived together (in fact, he lives a state away and drives here every thursday-sunday). To his credit, he has shown up for me for orchestra concerts, graduation, flight pick ups, etc almost my whole life whereas my dad has not. However I have not liked him since I was around 17 years old (we were in the middle of a very long drive two states away from home yet AT NIGHT. My mom has high anxiety and can't see very well at night and he screamed at her for not driving but then didn't even stop the car to let her drive anyway?? And when she started crying he jerked the radio up to the highest volume and ignored me kicking and yelling at him in the back because I could've driven instead but whatever)

Anyway. He has a history of tantrums and outbursts like the above. He's never been violent, but one time he hid my mom's cat's ashes just to upset her. He broke her potted plants, showed up at her work to yell at her more, etc. Thanksgiving of 2020, he had me cornered against the wall and was screaming in my face about how ungrateful and disrespectful I am because I didnt talk to him enough while I was home for break. We ended up having to leave our house and stay at a friend's.

And yet my mom forgave him because he cried and apologized to her. But never to me. And she expected me to forgive and move on because she "knows he has a good heart."

Anyway anyway, my mom knew how I felt after that. To prevent him having meltdowns on Christmas or his birthday or fathers day, she would get him gifts and put my name on them. Which I never asked her to do.

Well this year for Christmas he decided I once again was not being grateful or respectful or appreciate enough to/for him. My mom told me to call him and apologize and I said no, because he's never apologized to me and I didn't think I had even done anything. Plus, if I DID apologize out of nowhere for not meeting his expectations he would've known my mom told me to do so.

I was on the long drive home for break when they got into a big fight about me. He asked her if she would choose him or me and she chose me. He broke the brand new TV she bought him for Christmas and the entertainment stand it was on. They haven't seen each other since.

My mom says it's not my fault, but I feel like I've always been the one wedging between them. I'm the one who couldn't let things go, I'm the one who obviously avoids him, I'm the one who won't accept his apologies through a third party. She says this is for the best because they're on different paths and now she can focus on herself, her own happiness, and her faith (which is very important to her and not at all for him).

I just wish my mom was able to come to this conclusion without me being the catalyst. There had to have been a better way to go about this. I don't think I'm blameless here. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[yamujiburo]

What's some of your earliest hamamura shipping art?

This is the first one I did back in 2017! Did a lot more small doodles that year

Then I tried out an AU I didn't really do anything with in 2019 (but i still like the art! rare yam background). I also did a little collage of them being a couple which was probably my most popular piece of them up until recently!

Then I really started drawing them in 2020 and doing more comics similar to the ones i've been doing recently.

Then I stopped again but got hit by what felt like a truck of inspo for this ship a couple months ago and now we're here! I realize you only asked for the earliest stuff but oh well hahaha

[grapejuicestyless]

No One Wants To Die In The End.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: United through grief, Harry and Y/n have to navigate the same fates they witnessed as young children as understanding adults. After all, no one wants to die in the end, we can only hope death comes easy for us.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

I hear my mother ask in a hushed tone, the nurse who came to send my grandma away giving her a tight lipped smile.

I sit on the bed pretending not to be able to hear them, pretending the sound of my grandma choking on her own saliva is normal and the staggering of her breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while I tell her all about what I learned in fourth grade.

She doesn’t remember me, not much anyway. Ever since the illness started taking pieces of her brain, I’ve been stuck in time. She only knows my name now, and my mom warned me on the way here today not to cry if she couldn’t even remember that. It was her illness forgetting, not my beloved grandma.

Mom says she loved me with all my heart, and that once the illness passes through her, she’ll remember me again fondly. I’ll get to tell her all about my life and growing up and she’ll understand what I’m talking about. She won’t give me the blank stare she does now while I hold her hand, and her skin won’t be so frail.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.” The nurse says, and though my mom doesn’t cry, I can see her skin hugging her throat constricting it and the soft fluttering of her wet eyelashes.

My mom pulled me away soon after, telling me to say goodbye. This time felt different though, even at age nine I knew that. So I told my grandma I’d be back, even if I wasn’t sure just because it always made her smile, and I promised to keep dancing around in my pajamas before breakfast like she loved.

That day at school, the one after I left my grandma with hundreds of promises to live freely and trust with my heart, I found my mother sat out on the front steps by our old white porch with her head in my hands.

“Hi mama. Can I go to Megans?” I had asked her cheerfully, excited about seeing my best friend, my neighbor and my sister.

Mom had this sad look in her eyes, one that told me to come close without her having to say it. And as I stood between her bent knees and felt her hands on my hips, I saw her shake her head.

“Y/n/n, grandma didn’t make it, baby.” She declared softly, and at the time I didn’t know how to process it, the idea of someone being gone forever. As mom told me how she had only left for a minute to go home and shower and came back to my grandma unresponsive in her sleep, I didn’t think about the fact that my grandma’s laugh would fade with the years, but rather how sad it was that she had to go alone. I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

I didn’t tell mom this, my feelings on the death of grandma, the death of her mom, so I did what I knew how to do best, and I ran, begging softer this time to be able to go across the street just until dinner.

When I got there, I was greeted by Megan, and she looked sad. That’s how most people in my life seemed to look these past few hours, ever since the way my grandma breathed changed.

She pulled me into a hug and cried on my shoulder, promising to be there for me always, that it would get better. At the time I didn’t get it, why my best friend as a child would feel so much grief for a woman she barely knew, how she could feel so much more than I did, but grief hits differently in every person, I wished that someday I’d be able to process it openly instead of suppressing it somewhere I’d never find it. I wished that someday I’d learn how to cry.

Grandma didn’t get a funeral, they stuffed her ashes into a pretty vase with golden birds and her favorite flowers and held the wake early in the morning. Most of her friends I’d never met. It was a small service, a slow one. I spent most of my time playing hide and seek with my cousins and stealing the mints the funeral home left out for guests while my mother cried shaking each guests hand.

“How should we send out the letters?” My mom whispered to my father quietly, like it was something she didn’t want her children to know about.

“What’s the difference? Word spreads fast about people like him.”

People like him, that’s how my dad worded it. People like him, veterans who fought in a war they couldn’t even remember by the end of their lives and refused to replace the old wood paneling on their living room walls from the eighties.

My grandpa was the definition of people like him, he had lived enough lives to grow in white hairs by fourteen years old. Fighting alongside Elvis in the war and dancing with his dying wife in the afternoon.

I never met grandma, my dad said cancer took her before I was born, he says that’s why my name is the way it is, she picked it. But, I did meet grandpa.

He had white hair and a soft stomach from all the Swedish meatballs he made in his spare time. War does funny things like that to a man, make someone so against cooking love the simplicity of it, the safety of food consuming him.

I never really liked his Swedish meatballs, I didn’t like how he made them without sauce, when I was ten my world revolved around marinara sauce.

When I was twelve years old, I remember missing the softness of my grandpas stomach when he hugged me and the lingering smell of Swedish meatballs in his kitchen at dinner time. Which was weird because I never liked it before, but maybe my nose had changed while grandpa was changing in his own ways.

Cancer seemed to run in the family, something that was so small nobody ever suspected it was invading their bodies until the doctors became frantic to get it out.

My grandpa has bright white hair before his treatment, and small silver glasses perches on his swollen nose while he sat in his old brown chair and watched his grandkids school plays through the CD’s my parents would send him.

What a lonely life to live as he got older. The death of his wife and the absence of his grandchildren as they became less and less interested in family time and more focused on running outside freely with their friends.

I was so sidetracked I didn’t even know when grandpa died right away. Not until my father sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch where I laid with my mother rubbing his back slowly, a heavy look on his wrinkled face.

“Grandpa passed last night, Harry. He loved you very much.”

I didn’t cry as my father spoke, simply nodding before walking to my room to toy with my baseball cards and gameboy. I didn’t cry thinking about his passing, which confused me because I was twelve. I understood what death meant and how there was no one who had the power to reverse it, but I felt incapable of crying.

I went to school the next morning like my parents hadn’t told me the news, and my history teacher pulled me out into the hall during second period. He looked sad for me, his hands on my shoulders as he told me he would give me all the time I needed, not to try snd jump back into normalcy during such a tough time.

It made me feel embarrassed, which felt weird considering the context. I felt fine, completely indifferent to something I should have been breaking down over. But I guess grief is weird like that, and I wish I had the strength to be weak.

Grandpa had a big funeral, open casket with formal attire. He didn’t look like grandpa with all that makeup on him. I wanted to open his eyelids to see the colors in his eyes one last time. But that’s unacceptable to do, so I simply kneeled by the casket and prayed for him.

A big black limo took us from the boiling hot church to the graveyard where uniformed men loaded their guns and fired at the sky in honor of my grandpa. The smoke smelled like the low tide at the beach, and some people I’d never seen before sobbed a few rows behind me.

A lot of people showed up for grandpa, veterans from around the country and school friends from when he still had all his youth. Looking around at the crowd, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

“When did you find out?” Harry asked softly, his large hand capturing mine in a paw-like grip over my knuckles.

I swallowed, wondering when I suspected it in comparison to when I finally got the guts to ask someone for help.

“I’ve known for a while, probably since I was nine. It runs in the family, you know? All these health issues that eat away at our brains?” I laughed, but neither of us found it funny, not when I ran my fingers through my hair to calm down and chunks cane out between my knuckles.

“I just thought I’d be gifted more time, thought biology would be kinder to my bones.”

Harry looks at me with a broken stare, one that hits me in the heart. We both tear up, but neither of us cry. We are our parents, we are the spitting image of them sitting us down to break the news. But at least they went peacefully, right? I know no peace, but still I don’t cry for myself, I feel too pathetic to even try.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, looking bitterly at the youthful green eyes in front of me, how his curly hair seems even more vibrant than nearly a decade ago. He ages backwards and I am already one foot out of the door.

Harry shakes his head.

“You did everything right.” He tells me, fingers pulling the hair from my hands to hide it behind his back.

“Then why do I feel like I have?”

“Nobody wants to die in the end, Y/n/n. It’s a game of chance, each day we live we gamble on how long we have left. Some people search for that end and others stumble on it accidentally, it’s just the chances.”

When he puts it like that, it makes me feel even worse, knowing how quickly I’ll be gone. How I’ve failed my future children I’ll never get to have, my husband who would have loved me I’m sure, and my poor old dog who waits by the food bowl only to find it empty each day I’m gone.

“I don’t like these chances.” I laugh with tears in my eyes, hands holding onto his as our forehead touch, my best friend holding me like no one ever has, not even Megan, who had long grownup into a woman I barely knew, a friend who drifted from me when we were thirteen and cried to her mother about how she missed me when she was sixteen.

Megan held me when my grandma died that day when I was nine, and I was confused as to why she was so sad, but with Harry holding me now, I understand it all better.

“I’m only twenty nine, Harry. At least my grandmothers dementia took away the intense pain of remembering what she was leaving behind.”

“And she lived not knowing who her daughter was for the rest of her life. She must have been so alone.”

I look down at my lap, my palms still pressed against his.

“I’d never forget you, even if my memory starts to go. I’ll never forget you because you’re too important to forget.” Harry smiles when I say that, pulling his hands away from mine to tap his chest quietly.

“And I’d never forget you, even when I’m old and crazy. I’ll keep photos of us on my walls and talk to them when I get bored.” He promised me, the dull light from the sun making the once lavish room feel less like a clean living room and more like a cold hospital.

As the months pass, my hair has been traded for one of Harry’s favorite hats. My shirts switched out for backless gowns with blue dots on the paper like material. My arms are not decorated with the same ink as Harry, but wires and tubes that come from the table beside my hospital bed.

I am twenty nine, but I must look about sixty now with how tired I am from simply trying to steal back the life that was ripped from me unfairly.

And as I fight to keep up with the beeping of the monitors hooked up beside me, I feel my throat rejecting my saliva and my sick coughs stuck behind my teeth.

I heat the same cracking sounds that my grandmother made when I was nine, and I feel relaxed knowing now that it doesn’t hurt to breathe this way, not right now anyway.

And in the silence I can hear an echo of my mother’s words from outside my door, her feminine voice exchanged for the deep one I’d grown rather fond of.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

Harry asks in a hushed tone, the nurse different but her answer just the same.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.”

It’s happening again, the spirit leaving my bones to join everyone I’ve ever loved before, my father and my grandma. My mother and my old cousins. I only wished I didn’t have to leave Harry behind, I wished I could dance with him in our college dorms just one more time like we used to, and set fire to the box mac and cheese just one last time.

I remember everything about Harry, the nurse warning that my image of him might waver as my blood begins to slow under the skin. She tells him not to worry when my skin gets cold, it’s natural for people to cool down as their heart gives out.

Harry comes in and holds my hand, pretending the sound of my breathing doesn’t bother him and the sound of me choking on my own saliva is normal and the staggering of my breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while he swears to every single higher power he can think of that I’ll be okay.

And I believe him.

Because while he holds my hand in death, he’s fulfilled the one wish I prayed so hard for a a kid. The one selfish wish I made for myself in a time of need.

When I was nine, standing between my mothers legs with my nails between my teeth I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

And here Harry was nearly two decades later, holding my hand and promising serenity in the afterlife.

What he doesn’t know is that I am one of the lucky ones. Even after my heart has stopped, I am given one last gift as an apology for such a short life. I am given an extra second of my brain living on, the soft cries of “I love you’s” from Harry the last thing I hear as my dying gasp is cut short from my death rattle breathing.

I have a small service, Harry and some college friends standing in line shaking the hands of the few guests who walk by to look at my body. My nephews and nieces place hide and seek with each other until the ceremony was over, mints stuffed deep in their pockets as they filed out of the funeral home like nothing had happened.

Being famous is weird, especially after a loved one has passed.

We send out prayers to the families of those affected, the media says, but how has the death of this person affected Harry? How has Y/n’s slipping away crushed him beyond belief? Will he dedicate his next album to her?

They don’t care about Y/n, they only care about how she makes a good headline for their companies, and it makes me sick to think about. How they profit off of my grief while I try to stop memorizing the sound of her broken sigh as she went.

I wonder if I was enough for her during her final days. If my touch was enough to cure her for just a brief second.

It’s no wonder I turned to move-on pills. Ones that lift me up and break me down further until I am face up on the bathroom floor we once shared, my eyes wide as I choke on my breathing and count how many times the lights multiply as I look up to the sky.

It’s not a shock that the headlines are out by the end of the day, the sirens enough to alert all of Hollywood of my dying dreams and my perfect execution.

My family stands in a line while they put my casket into the hearse, makeup on my face like they put on my grandpa, I dan barely recognize myself as I watch the funeral service from another space.

And as they bury me under the ground, the media announces their grief and well wishes to all that attended and the millions watching from their televisions.

As a kid, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

But now that it’s happening, I only care for one thing, I only asked for one thing in the letter I left behind. Lay me beside my best friend, so I can keep holding her hand through death, and we can laugh in the afterlife like we did when we were healthy, happy, and together.

[storiesforallfandoms]

all the mistakes ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2866

request?: yes!

“I just started reading your stuff and I'm in love with the Colson stories!

I was wondering if you could do Colson x reader. Reader finds out she's pregnant by Colson and he doesn't think he's ready to be a dad again and abandons reader but then realizes a couple months later that he's truly in love with her and does everything he can to win her back?

If not, it's okay.. thank you ❤️”

description: in which he comes to apologize for all the mistakes he’s made leading up to the birth of their child

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, child birth (not in detail obviously), lil angsty and sad but it ends happy, rpf (if you don’t like it don’t read)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Colson always said he wanted another kid. Especially once Casie started to go through her pre-teen years and he found himself wishing she was still a baby again. He and (Y/N) had talked about it so many times, and they had both agreed that they wanted to have a baby together.

So why did he run away when she actually got pregnant?

Colson could still remember it all so vividly: the look of happiness on (Y/N)’s face when she showed him the positive pregnancy test, the heavy feeling in his stomach that turned to panic that rose into his throat, the sound of (Y/N)’s voice as he grabbed some of his things and left without another word. He could remember the sound of his phone constantly chiming as (Y/N) tried to text and call him, until finally he had to put her contact on mute. It didn’t take her long to give up trying to contact him, though.

He didn’t know why he did it. He had been asked by so many people - his boys, his mom, Ash, even Casie herself - but he had no answer. When (Y/N) first told him she wanted to have kids with him, he had been so excited. So where did his sudden panic come from when it actually happened? Why was he suddenly so doubtful over his ability to be a father again?

He couldn’t bring himself to go back. He was embarrassed for the way he reacted, and he thought (Y/N) wouldn’t take him back anyways. Not that he blamed her. How could she take back the man who got her pregnant and then ran out on her? Because of his reluctance and fear of rejection, Colson didn’t see (Y/N) for months. And he would’ve kept it that way if it wasn’t for Casie throwing his car keys at him and forcing him out of the house.

“You have to go see her,” Casie said as she slammed the door in her father’s face and locked it.

“You gave me my keys, Cas, I can get back in,” he pointed out.

She held up the house key that usually hung on Colson’s keyring. “I took it off. You’re not getting back in until you go see (Y/N) and apologize for being stupid.”

“She’s not gonna wanna see me.”

“You don’t know that! She’s carrying your child, and I’d doubt she seriously wants that kid to grow up without a dad.”

Colson didn’t want to admit that he thought (Y/N) probably got rid of the baby the second he walked out on her. “Cas, come on, just let me back in.”

But Casie just crossed her arms and glared at him. After a few minutes, Colson sighed and rolled his eyes. There was no use in trying to get back in unless he did exactly what Casie wanted, so he went to his car and drove the familiar route to get to (Y/N)’s place.

At least I can get the rejection over with quickly and get back into my own house, he thought to himself.

Pulling up to her house, Colson started picturing the night he left again. He wanted nothing more than to turn his car around and go back home, but he knew Casie could tell if he was lying to her. His hands were shaking as he shut his car off and put the keys into his pocket. He was almost hoping that (Y/N) wasn’t home. Maybe if she wasn’t, Casie would drop it and let him back into the house without having to actually deal with the situation.

But her car was in the driveway, so she had to be home.

Colson made his way up to the front door and raised his hand to knock. He hesitated, unable to make his hand move. His brain was still screaming at him to turn around and go home, but he had come this far. He couldn’t just back out now. At the very least, maybe he could give (Y/N) some closure so they could both move on from this, since he knew there was no way that she was going to take him back.

He finally moved his hand to knock. It didn’t take long for him to hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the door, and when the door opened it felt like the floodgates within him had opened.

(Y/N) was stood there, her belly big enough to tell him that she was still carrying his child. She had never looked so beautiful to him before.

Her eyes were wide, almost like a deer caught in headlights. He was the last person she expected to see on her doorstep, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slam the door in his face or throw herself into his arms and beg for him to never let her go again.

“Hey,” Colson finally said. “Uh...I’m sorry to surprise you like this. I probably should’ve called first or something.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through. I blocked your number,” she told him.

Ouch, he thought. I deserve that, though.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “If it’s to finally get the last of your stuff that you left here, I have it in boxes in the spare room. I can bring it all down and send you on your way within five minutes.”

There was a lot he wanted to say in response to that, but instead he found himself saying, “You probably shouldn’t be lifting too much or going up and down the stairs a lot in your condition.”

Her face darkened as she glared at him. “Don’t pretend you give a shit now.”

Colson sighed and shook his head. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Can I come in? I just wanted to talk, to apologize.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You leave me when I tell you I’m pregnant - with a baby that you wanted, might I add - and you leave for months, with no calls or texts or anything. And now you think you can come back and just...apologize for all of that?”

“I know, I fucked up - ”

“No, you don’t know,” she cut him off. “You really fucked up. You beyond fucked up, actually. You don’t understand how much it hurt me when you just walked out. You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I thought you were going to be happy when I told you I was pregnant. We talked about starting our own family for so long, and I thought you’d be overjoyed for this. But you just walked out and didn’t come back. You do not understand how hard that was for me to deal with, how hard it still is to deal with, while also trying to deal with this pregnancy all on my own!”

She was starting to cry. She mentally cursed her pregnancy hormones for making her so much more susceptible to tears lately. She didn’t want him to see her cry, especially not over him.

When he extended his arms to her, though, she gladly took the comforting hug. She sobbed into his chest, trying to take in his familiar smell and warmth without letting him back in too much. He couldn’t just come in and demand a second chance like this, but she also couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t relieved to see him on her doorstep.

Colson guided her into the house, closing the door behind them and bringing (Y/N) to her living room. They both sat down on her couch and (Y/N) wiped the tears from her eyes. She reached for a tissue from a box on one of her side tables and blew her nose as well.

“I had to start leaving tissue boxes in every room,” she sighed. “Stupid fucking hormones. I cry at everything now.”

“At least you’ve managed to prepare yourself for it,” Colson said.

She sighed and wiped at her face again. She felt so puffy and gross, and not just from the crying. The pregnancy had made her feel so many negative emotions. Even now, when she was supposed to be mad at Colson, she found herself self conscious about her round belly and how it made her look to him.

“Why did you leave?” she asked him. “I thought you wanted another baby.”

“I do,” he responded. “I should’ve been so goddamn excited when you told me you were pregnant. I think I would’ve felt that way if I wasn’t such an idiot instead and started feeling doubt about being a father again.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...I panicked when you told me. I found myself thinking about if I was cut out to be a dad again. Like, what if I ended up missing so much of the baby’s life the same way I did with Casie? I wasn’t ready to be a dad when Emma was pregnant with Casie because I was so young, and I found myself back in that mindset when you told me you were pregnant. Just this sudden panic and self doubt.”

“But we talked about this. You said you wanted another baby.”

“I know. I don’t understand it either. It’s just my fucked up brain ruining everything again.”

(Y/N) placed her hand on Colson’s in a comforting gesture. “You’re not fucked up, and you are an amazing dad to Casie. I have no doubts that you’ll be even better with this baby, especially now since you’re older and have experience.”

Colson shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t believe I was so stupid to let myself get worked up like that, though. I should’ve been so excited. We should’ve had a big ass fucking party to celebrate, and then you should’ve been moving into my house so we could start this family together. I shouldn’t have run out the door and left you like that.”

“Why didn’t you ever call or text me before now?”

“I felt embarrassed and stupid for my reaction. For the longest time, I just felt like I couldn’t face what I did, or face you. And then the more that time went on, the more I felt like coming back was a mistake. I figured you would kick me to the curb and tell me to never speak to you again. I thought...I thought that...if you even still had our baby, that you’d never let me see them anyways.”

(Y/N) found herself running her fingers along the back of his hand. What he was saying all made sense, and she felt like she believed him. She didn’t think he was malicious in leaving her. He didn’t do it because he was an asshole, he did it because he panicked suddenly and made a bonehead move, then his embarrassment got the better of him and made him overthink the situation even further. It didn’t completely heal the wound that his leaving had left inside of her, but it was enough to make her think she could possibly forgive him.

“If you had shown interest, I would’ve let you see her,” she said. “I would never keep you from your daughter if you wanted to be in her life.”

Tears were forming in Colson’s eyes as he looked up at (Y/N). “It’s a girl? You know that for sure?”

(Y/N) could feel herself welling up again, too. She nodded and got up to get the ultrasound she kept on the fridge. She passed it to Colson and sat down next to him.

“That’s her,” she said. “She was once the size of a peanut when I got my first sonogram, and now she’s a fully formed baby.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have another daughter,” Colson breathed.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Definitely a good way. I would’ve loved to have a son, but if there’s anything that being Casie’s dad has taught me, it’s that I love being a girl dad.” He placed the ultrasound on the coffee table and turned to face (Y/N). “I love you, too. More than anything, (Y/N). I was such a fucking idiot to ruin us the way I did, but I never stopped loving you in that time we had apart. I wanted nothing more than to call you or to show up on your doorstep like I did today, but I was terrified of what your reaction would be if I did.”

“I love you, too,” (Y/N) replied. It was the truth. She hadn’t stopped loving Colson, no matter how angry or upset he had made her. She loved him so much, and she felt like carrying his child had made her love him even more. “But you hurt me a lot. I meant what I said, you can’t just come in and say you’re sorry and suddenly everything goes back to normal.”

“I know, and I’ll do anything to win back your trust. Whatever you want, (Y/N), I’ll do it.”

“Right now, I want you to be here for the rest of my pregnancy, and I want you to be there when your daughter is born. We can take things from there.”

Colson nodded. “Will you come stay with me and Casie at least? I intended on asking you to move in with me anyways, and I know that’s a big ask right now, but I want you to be there and to start making it your home, because eventually it will be. Your home, and hers.” He put his hand on her bump, thinking about how his baby girl was growing in there.

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Give me a few minutes to pack a few things, and then we can head over. I want to see Casie anyways. I’ve missed her so much.”

~~~~~~

A few months later, Colson and (Y/N) were on the way to the hospital in the middle of the night. (Y/N) had woken up to pee and ended up having her water break. She woke Colson with her surprised shriek and he got everything together for the two of them to go to the hospital. Casie was at Emma’s, so Colson texted Emma to let her know that the baby was coming and to let Casie know that she would be a big sister by the time she woke up.

The labor pains weren’t as bad as (Y/N) expected, but they were still certainly the worst pain she had ever felt. Colson stayed by her side through the entire process, just like he promised. He let (Y/N) use his hand as a stress ball, crushing it with every contraction pain she felt. He stayed in the room after the doctor’s announced it was time to push and, even though he did feel a little lightheaded during the birthing process, he stayed to hear his baby girl cry for the first time.

The doctors let him cut the umbilical cord before they washed the baby girl and wrapped her in a soft, pastel pink blanket. The doctor passed Colson the baby and Colson sat next to (Y/N) so she could see her, too.

“She’s so beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed. “Besides the fact that she looks like a little prune.”

Colson chuckled. “Yeah, she definitely needs a day or two to look less wrinkly, but she’s gorgeous. You really did it, baby.”

(Y/N) mustered enough strength to reach out and lightly graze the baby’s cheek with her finger. “She was definitely worth all that pain and the exhaustion. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I can fight the sleep much longer.”

Colson leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Get some rest. When you’re feeling up to it, we’ll get Casie to come see her baby sister.”

(Y/N)’s eyes started to close, but Colson could see that she was trying to fight her fatigue. “We haven’t named her yet.”

“We can do that when you wake up. We have so much time to get everything figured out. You already did all of the hard stuff, let me help out with this side of things.”

She smiled, sheepishly, and forced her eyes open for another moment to look at Colson. “I love you.”

He smiled back at her. “I love you, too. More than you could ever know. Now, get some rest. We’ll both be here when you wake up.”

(Y/N) nodded and finally closed her eyes. It didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep. Colson stood so he could put the baby in the bed that the nurses had brought in to put next to (Y/N)’s bed. She had already stopped crying and had also been lulled to sleep in Colson’s arms. When he had her laid down, he stepped back to look at his two girls. He smiled and couldn’t help the tears that started to well up in his eyes. He couldn’t be any happier than he was in that moment.

[plainemmanem]

meeting steve’s parents for the first time and he gives you the little “ok so my parents are crazy” talk LOL

st-steve in his little winter vest and- and mittens and a silly winter hat sniffle sniffle

You didn’t grow up in Hawkins. To you, the “Upside Down” was just a spooky bedtime story Dustin told around the campfire. To you, Starcourt Mall was merely a burnt shell, a memory reduced to rubble and ash.

To you, “King Steve” was just a punchline between Nancy and Robin. 

The Steve you met was a nerd. Sweet and handsome, but still a total nerd. 

The first time you walked into Family Video, he nearly knocked down an endcap display on his way to come talk to you. 

His opening line was “New in town?” with a suave smirk and an awkward lean on the shelf beside you – a few tapes met the ground and he immediately shot you that adorably sheepish look as he scrambled to pick them up. 

Ever since then you were hooked. 

“Trust me, you do not wanna experience the Harrington family holiday, okay. Don’t wanna scare you off…” 

There used to be a little voice in the back of your mind feeding into your fears: that you were Steve’s dirty, little secret, that he didn’t actually want you to meet his parents, that you weren’t good enough for him. But, over time, you picked up on the little things. Little hints that he didn’t have the typical nuclear family.

The nonchalant segues anytime his mom was mentioned, the constant empty house, the lack of childhood stories or family anecdotes. The aloof response when you ask what trip his parents were on this time; “No idea” with a little shrug and a reassuring squeeze to your thigh. 

Robin had mentioned it once, but never in great detail. Something vague about them being “distant” and “cold,” hinting at something a little deeper. But it wasn’t really her place to tell you. 

Anytime you asked Steve, it always struck a nerve. He’d given you bits and pieces – mentions of forgotten birthdays and tense dinners – but you never really got the full extent of it. The truth was always hidden behind an indifferent laugh and a biting joke, tone blasé. Your heart ached for him. 

“Yeah, well, my mom didn’t even know I was allergic to peas until I was five, so… Maybe that’s where I get my remarkable observation skills.”

 You never wanted to pry, but you wanted him to know that you were there if he ever wanted to talk about it. 

If he could have, Steve would have skipped the Christmas dinner all together. A sad microwave dinner at home still sounded more enjoyable than whatever scathing remarks his parents inevitably had planned for him.

Last year, it was his decision to skip college. This year, it would be his dazzling new job at Family Video. As if Steve didn’t already feel inadequate enough. 

Dinner at your place was obviously his first choice, but his parents had been passive aggressively hounding him for weeks to bring his new girlfriend over, and what better time than Christmas Eve? 

Steve’s dread was obvious when he stopped you in the kitchen last week.

“Hey, uh. Could I- um. Could I talk to you for a second?” He was fussing with the apple in his hands deftly as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Oh god, am I in trouble? Did I forget to grab you something at the store, I could’ve sworn I got everything-” “No,” he chuckled a little at your concern, his face falling quickly after, eyes finding the floor. “No, it’s not that.”

His fidgeting was only getting worse and his gaze wouldn’t leave his feet as he spiraled in his own thoughts. You take a step towards him, rubbing a hand up his arm reassuringly. 

“What’s on your mind, Stevie?” Your heart clenched when his gaze met yours; he looked unsure, troubled, before hanging his head again, toe of his shoe scuffing yours and fingers playing with the hem of your jacket intuitively.

“Well, my, uh… My parents were coming home for the holidays and they wanted me to have Christmas dinner with them…” He was talking more to your feet, but you could hear the exasperation hidden behind his attempt at nonchalance. 

An understanding hum left you. Him mentioning his parents was a rarity, and you truthfully didn’t know how to react. 

He met your gaze again, tentative as he nibbled slightly on his lower lip. 

“Can you please go with me,” his meek tone took you by surprise. “I really don’t wanna go alone.” 

You had never seen your boyfriend so vulnerable. Like a light gust of wind might knock him over. He looked tired, like he had been pacing all night rather than sleeping, wrestling with his thoughts.

You immediately said yes, of course. Honestly, you could never say no to him, especially when he asked so gently, so helplessly.

The drive to the Harrington’s was quiet. An unspoken tension thickened the air, the soft music over the radio only enhancing the stuffiness of the car. 

Steve was fussing with his bottom lip and white-knuckling the wheel, only loosening his grip to run an anxious hand through his hair and adjust his rearview mirror neurotically. You were contemplating pressing him, but you knew he was on edge, the impending doom of his parents a mere six blocks away.

This was it. You were really going. 

Steve’s neighborhood was beautiful. Pristine, white houses lined the streets, covered in a blanket of fluffy, white snow. To you, it looked like a Christmas card. To Steve, it looked like death row.

Each house had unique, tasteful lights strung along the rafters. Some even had flickering candles in the windows or wreaths on the door. They blurred past as Steve drove, one by one, a flicker of light on a white canvas, then gone. Eventually, your eyes started to glaze over, all the houses starting to blend together in a mush of picturesque suburbia. 

Gradually, the houses begin to pass by slower, the details becoming clearer as the car rolls to a stop. 

Turning questioningly to Steve, you catch him already looking at you, aching to speak. His fingers tap once, twice, three times anxiously on the steering wheel before the words finally come.

“I just want to warn you.” He’s holding his breath, afraid to continue. “Well, you may already know, I mean, I’ve definitely mentioned it before – not in too many words, but we’ve definitely talked about it, and, ya know, you’re really smart so I wouldn’t be surprised if you already pieced it all together-”

You cut him off with a hand on his arm, a gentle rub, before moving up to his neck. Your fingers run soothingly through the hairs at the nape, eyes scanning his face – his knitted brows, his bitten lips, his wrinkled forehead. 

“Steve, take a breath. What’s wrong?” You try to sound casual, calming, reassuring, but it probably sounds more concerned than anything else. 

The air is tense, and Steve seems to be searching your eyes for the courage to continue. 

“Well, my parents are kind of… weird.” He doesn’t blink, too focused on reading each of your tiny microexpressions to notice. You can see him biting the inside of his cheek and you catch his eyes flicker with a touch of something: Panic? Fear? It’s hard to tell. 

Trying to suppress your own anxieties, you muster up a warm smile.

“Steve.” An airy laugh passes through your lips. “Everyone’s parents are weird. Trust me, I’ve definitely come prepared.” 

He grimaces a fraction, breaking eye contact, before looking back at you pressingly. 

“No, like… My parents are really weird.” His eyes go wide as he tries to exaggerate his point. 

“Ok… Well, what kind of weird are we talking about here?” 

A sigh leaves him. He’s never been able to make it past this part. He looks to the middle of your neck, collecting his thoughts, before starting again.

“Well… In my twenty years of life, I think my mom has told me ‘I love you’ maybe, like… once? When I was a kid or something.” His eyes flicker to yours, then back to your neck. His gaze glazes over, thinking. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard my dad say it.” 

 A burning crept up your throat. You can feel the horrified expression on your face.

You croak softly. “What-?”

But he’s already cutting you off.

“And they’re very passive aggressive. And they don’t really acknowledge other people’s accomplishments if they can help it.” He’s come back to himself a little; he still can’t meet your eyes, but he’s turned back to the wheel, starting the car up once again, his hands moving in tune with his words. “Oh- and they don’t really listen. Well, like, obviously they listen, but they don’t like listen listen if you know what I mean. It’s like they’re just kind of waiting for you to finish talking so that they can speak. Oh, and just a warning, my mom is a terrible cook, so don’t expect five star dining-”

“Steve, pull over.” The words are cold, serious, unyielding. 

“Wh-What?” He’s immediately frantic, stealing anxious glances at you as he starts pulling off to the side of the road once again. “Shit, I scared you, didn’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry. We can go home- I can drive you home?” He’s giving you that concerned, fearful look as he puts the car in park, turning to check in on you.

There’s a beat of silence, a moment of insecurity, before you turn to face him.

Warm hands cup his cheeks. Eyes remaining serious, you give him the softest, most loving look you can. “I’m sorry they treated you like that.” 

The words suck all the air from the car, and Steve can’t stand your gaze, looking down shyly, mumbling mostly to himself.

“No, I mean, it’s no big deal, it’s over now…”

Leaning over the center console, you pull him in for a soft kiss. It’s probably the gentlest kiss you’ve ever given him, and the tenderness of it makes Steve’s eyes lock with yours.

“They never should have treated you that way. It’s not ok. No one should be treated like that by their own parents. You, of all people, should not have been treated like that. You are the kindest, most caring person I know. You are not your parents. You’re better than they will ever be, ok?”

Eyes misty, he gives you a little nod in your hands, gaze flickering across your face from the intensity of it all. His hands cuff around your wrists and give a slight squeeze – a silent understanding, a thank you. 

“I’m here with you.” Your voice was barely a whisper; the words only for him. “We’re gonna do this together, ok? I don’t want you to worry about me, I can take shitty parents. I want to make sure you’re ok. You just say the word and we’ll leave. We’ll drive back to my house or a motel or something, but you do not have to stay any longer than you’re comfortable. You don’t owe them anything.” A few chestnut strands fall over his forehead, and your hand leaves his cheek just long enough to swipe them back, scanning his face, hoping to get some sort of read on his expression. 

Languidly, he peaks up at you, eyes a little glassy, holding in his emotion. 

He looks so broken. So shattered. 

You know no one has ever told him this before. 

With no words left, you give him a small nod, and he returns it with a small sniffle. Trailing up your wrists to your hands, he grabs each one and brings them to his lap, rubbing the backs pensively with his thumbs. A squeeze, then he’s pulling you into his side. His cologne envelopes you as a small kiss lands on your temple. 

He holds you a moment, breathing you in, before turning back to the wheel and putting the car in drive, keeping a vice grip on your hand the whole rest of the way. 

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Soul tied

Hi my babies! New series i am writing and i hope you guys like it i’m super excited to see what you guys think!!

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

Word count: 1,760

————————————————————————

New assignments were constantly draining. Your job was just draining.

Working for the government was never easy and being as young as you are in your field, your work was always downplayed.

Though you always stayed up late doing paperwork, your messy apartment constantly smelled of coffee. You were always waiting for a new assignment but they never gave you anything. You worked your ass off to prove you’re not just some rookie, years and years of training and physical torture but they refuse to send you anywhere.

You were called to Raccoon City during the aftermath, the mask clinging to your face as you glanced across the literal ash that used to be a big corporate ran city. Having to sign off and confirm death reports put you in the biggest depression of your life but you couldn’t argue, it was your job.

The so called victims of it all worked for separate agencies, having to sign off on their paperwork and confirm they were alive wasn’t easy. Jill Valentine went missing for a while, not by choice but she definitely was ridden by trauma and you couldn’t blame the woman. The second day you came by to check on her she had a note posted on the door

“Alive and well, thanks. -J.V”

And that was enough for you. The one person you couldn’t get a hold of.. Leon Kennedy. Calling everybody you could nobody knew where the boy was. You put the phone back down onto your desk, sighing as you looked at his paperwork, he looked young, with puppy dog eyes and scrapes all over. Where could he have run off to? When it was time to turn in everybody’s paperwork, you had put a bunch of them in separate files but of course, Leons was empty and your boss was not happy but what were you supposed to do? Your boss clicked at his pen a few times before he nodded and sighed

“Right.. he’s training”

He mumbled as he scribbled out Leon’s name on his paper, your eyebrows frowned as you laid the papers down. You may have been nosy but oh well, you cleared your throat, his eyes fixating up to you.

“Training for what?”

Your training took you almost four years. Directly out of high school and even getting into the program alone was another year. It made you feel like you were in the wrong profession. Your dad was a cop, your mom a teacher. So by birth you were set up for two jobs, either working for the police department under your fathers legacy or teaching and you were never the smartest in the family and your mom knew that.

When your parents found out you got a job in the government they were more than happy, how could they not be? They didn't know exact details such as you being employed for the DSO, or how you have seen bodies of things you can’t even describe. You were under oath, and you worked your ass off for them.

“Mission training.”

“What?”

You’re kidding.

“He’s new to the agency and he was already assigned a mission that’s not fair-“

“Are we done here? You don’t get to ask questions for now, you're just an assistant.”

The words that shouldn’t have hurt you as badly as they did. It didn’t matter though, maybe he was right.

All the paperwork you stayed up doing for Raccoon City, when you should’ve been sleeping. The heavy bags under your eyes, the tears, the stress and you thought it would never end, and it didn’t.

—————————————————————-

To many years later.

The sound of your air conditioner turning on made your head rise from your pillow. You don’t even remember falling asleep. Your apartment was a mess as it usually was, paperwork scattered all over your desk and your bed barely made.

A yawn leaves your lips as you stretch, rubbing your eyes. Your feet come up off the floor when your skin realizes just how cold the wood tiles are. The rain hits your window making your eyes fixated on the dark window. What time was it?

Your finger presses at your answering machine, 25 missed calls?

“Call me back, where are you?”

“Call me when you can”

“Fuck..”

You mumbled, grabbing your phone off your desk, quickly dialing your work office number. Being immediately transferred made your heart race faster, your boss’ sigh making you bite at your nails.

“You want an assignment so bad? I got one for you, but you can’t bitch to me about it in five months.”

Your eyebrows frowned as a slight smile tugged at your lips, an assignment for you? The line was silent for a few seconds before your voice filled the void.

“Anything.”

—————————————————————

Anything.

You wish you could go back in time and just go back to sleep.

Instead you stood in the doorway of your boss’ office, arms crossing as you stared at the back of the head of some dirty blonde man in a black long sleeve.

A scoff left your lips as you pulled out the chair beside him, sitting down next to the man. Who you have never met in person but god, did he have a reputation.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

The president's lap dog, who has gotten many more assignments than you have even if you’ve been here much longer than him.

Having to sign his reports from his mission in Spain. How the press praised him and his capability to save Ashley Graham. What a joke, as if he did it by himself. Ada Wong's mystery file always lays so perfectly on your desk. Though you did feel for Kennedy, the virus he contracted and what it did to him and his body. Ashley’s testimony made your heart ache because somebody as innocent as her didn’t need to see such things. She said Leon somehow fought his way through it, and so did she.

You didn’t even notice Leon’s gaze, his head tilted down slightly so he could look at your unamused expression. Seeming bitchy was the least of your intentions genuinely, your lips in a thin line as you blinked at your boss who of course had the biggest smile on his face.

“You wanted an assignment? I gave you one.”

His fingers pressed against the paper in front of you and Leon, sliding it closer to the two of you as you glanced down at the picture of Leon shortly after he came back from Spain.. Though healed, the thick black veins ran up his chest and neck.

Leon shifted uncomfortably, his neck cranking to the side. You know so much about the man and you’ve never heard him speak.

“What does this have to do with anything”

His voice was.. gravely almost. Guilt dipping in your chest due to the fact that you had judged him so deeply.

“A group knows information regarding the virus. A group in New York. Kennedy and you will be escorted. We want information.”

Thankfully Leon was as confused as you were, your eyes finally meeting. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes barely hiding the fact that his hair was messy. He was probably so done with all of this.. your head started to fill with thoughts of his Raccoon City file. Your boss words we’re being blurred by your thoughts, your vision coming back into focus.

“Husband and wife”

“What?”

The words leave your lips in a laugh almost, your eyes darting back up to your boss as you scoffed.

“Sorry, I didn’t go through years of training to play house.”

Maybe this was your sign that you weren’t ready for a mission, a commitment so big, your eyes looking down into your lap as he went over the details. A ringing in your ears as you swallowed the lump in your throat, maybe Leon was just more capable. He was stronger, smarter, he obviously had more experience.

The door slamming behind you made you flinch, your attention back to the paperwork in front of you. The sound of Leon scribbling away on the paper filling the room as your shaking hand reached for a pen on the desk.

—————————————————————-

“Here.”

Your head was turned away from the man, staring out the plane window as he sat across from you. The two of you barely spoke, the car ride here and everything. Your eyes ran over his frame before you saw the ring in his hand. The whole situation made you uncomfortable, you’ve never met Leon and now you had to pretend to be his wife. You leaned forward grabbing the ring before slipping it in your finger, your legs crossing again as your eyes shot down to his left hand to see the silver band on his finger as well.

So you were really doing this? Your mission was simple. Get the sample. The facility you’re being transferred to was under the impression that you and Leon were ex umbrella scientists. The two of you have been married since you were twenty. The plan has to be flawed, you had no chemistry.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t handsome though. It honestly left you shocked that he had grown so much from Raccoon city, it’s like he had a second puberty almost. He must’ve seen you staring, his head turning to you causing you to look down at the ring on your finger, nervously fiddling with it as Leon cleared his throat.

“Don’t be nervous, people can tell when another person is scared.”

Leon spoke as you let your shoulders loosen, cracking your knuckles as the soft chiming of the plane getting ready to land rang through your ears. You two did look expensive, Leon dressed in a black suit, his hands pushing forward a bit so he can adjust the cuffs on his wrist as he stood up from his seat. His hand extends out to you, his jaw tightening as the sigh leaves your lips and you stand holding at his arm. You both made sure your rings were on display, your fingers carefully holding at his upper arm as the two of you stood in front of the opening door.

This was going to be more than difficult. Especially with Kennedy.

[faghubby]

Over the road

"Those are some pretty undies you got there" Maggie whispered in Christian's ear. He turned a deep red. And quickly pulled down his shirt as he rushed off to the men's room. Maggie couldn't resist when she saw him lean forward she caught a flash of pink lace. As she told another waitress they both laughed outloud. By the time he returned she had calmed down having other costumers.

Chris debated of he should just remove the panties and go commando or just pull his pants up. He stood in the stall rock hard. Although he wanted to play with himself it was quite a busy at the truckstop and thought he better not. Instead he pulled up his pants and with his head hung low went back to his seat to at least pay the bill.

"Sorry if I embarrassed you" Maggie smiled. He couldn't even look up. Till he read the back of the bill. Said Maggie with a phone number. Chris was surprised, he instantly thought I can't he was married after all. He left in such a hurry he forgot his hat. As he was going back out to his truck.

"Hey sweety" he heard behind him as a hand slid across his ashe turned and Maggie put his hat on his head.

"You better call me" she smiled and went back to work. He went and sat in his truck. He couldn't get Maggie out of his head. She was properly late 30s maybe 40. Obviously a mom he thought. He found himself going back inside a few hours later and sitting in her section. He just ordered coffee. And sat quietly watching her.

"I get off in 30 minutes" Maggie told him. He just nodded shyly. She motioned for him to follow her as she left after clocking out. He caught up to her in the parking lot.

"So panty boy show me" Maggie smiled they where on the far side of the parking lot. Chris looking around undid his thick belt and big belt buckle and open his pants showing Maggie his pink panties with little hearts all over them and a delicate lace border. She had him get in her car. He pulled up his pants.

"I'm married" he spit out the first words he had said other then his order.

"Does your wife know you wear her panties?" Maggie asked. He mumbled no as he shock his head. Maggie reached into his pants. And grasped his dick.

"No wonder you wear panties, I bet my 12 year old has a bigger dick" Maggie laughed. This only made Chris harder. Maggie drove to secluded spot a few miles away. She got out of the car. It was a rather warm night. As Christian watched her hick up her dress and remove her panties. She laid across the hood of her car.

"Do you want to lick my pussy?" Maggie teased. Chris dropped to his knees.

"Wait strip, I want you in just your panties" Maggie smiled. As she watched him strip down to just his tiny panties. His dick struggling to escape. He knelt and went to lick her.

"Lick my ass, first" she ordered. He did just that he even drove his tounge into her hole. Maggie cooed as he did whatever she commanded. She loved having this power over a man. He didn't even try and stop licking her ass, pussy, thighs his tounge was magical Maggie thought. Until Maggie came loudly all over his face.

Chris thought now he could fuck her. Bit Maggie got up and pulled his panties down. She stroked him with two fingers.

"How do you even fuck your wife with this little thing?" Maggie teased. Chris just moaned. "I bet she has real men that please her when you are on the road" Maggie told him. He was gone for weeks at a time. He had never thought about his wife Kelly cheating on him. But now as he thought about it he came all over the front of Maggie's car.

"When are you getting back on the road?" Maggie asked.

"In the morning" Chris replied. Maggie returned him to her truck. And before she left added her number to his phone.

Chris woke early to a text from Maggie. /send me a pic of you wearing panties/ he did as she asked not even knowing why.

Maggie continued to text, call, even face time him several times a day. She would talk dirty to him, called him a sissy, encouraged him to buy panties. He only had two pairs he had stolen from his wife. It was two weeks when he came back thru town. He again met up with Maggie. But this time renting a motel room.

"I got you some things" Maggie told him. As she produced a variety of things. First woman's deodorant, body wash, body spray. Hand lotion.

"You need to smell like a sissy boi" she told him. Then pulled out a bottle of hair remover, pink razors and ladies shaving gel. "Litle bitch boys are always smooth as a baby ass" she told him. Producing hair products next, his hair was already long. Bit he needed to take better care of it. That night Maggie let him see her naked. But only after he had agreed to remove all his body hair. Maggie told him it would grow back in a few days. He would soon learn that wasn't true.

"Christine, you need to buy sexier panties" Maggie told him. She had said this when he had first bought some. Buying pastel colored cotton panties. Chris physically flinched hearing her call him Christine. Maggie had him orally please her again but as he did she got in a 69 position. But ignored his throbbing dick instead she applied lube to his smooth ass.

"What are you?" Chris gasped. As Maggie pushed two fingers into his hole.

"Do you think Kelly let's men fuck her ass?" Maggie asked as she finger fucked him. He moaned as he continued to lick her clit. Again he now thought of his wife getting fucked, over the last week he had pictured the farm hands, the neighbors, even thier pastor fucking Kelly. He couldn't shake the idea of her riding a big cock. Maggie spent the night with him cuddling in the motel room. In the morning Maggie woke him by pushing a vibrator up his ass.he woke with a start and first tried to stop her. Till Maggie turned it on. He fell silent.

"All the real men out there are going to smell how sexy you are and want to shove their big cocks in your ass" Maggie told him. Maggie didn't stop until his little dick stopped leaking all over his stomach.

She even had him paint his toe nails before he hit the road again. Again they spoke several times a day. Maggie now called him Christine exclusively. Encouraging him to buy a bra, and a nightie.

"It would be so hot if you got stopped by the police and they jumped up on the truck to see you just wearing your pretty panties." Maggie told him. The very next day she had convinced him to send her a pic of him driving wearing just a tiny thong and a tee shirt. Maggie continued touch his homosexual thoughts. And that he wasn't man enough for any woman. Especially his wife. She would FaceTime him as they both masterbated. But only if he used the vibrator she had given him.

By the time they met face to face again, he had been home and back on the road for week.

"I swear I didn't even try and have sex with my wife" Christina wimpered as Maggie squeezed his tballs lightly.

"Good, I have a surprise" Maggie pulled out a flower print sun dress. And made him put it on.

"I bet you been sucking cocks all across the country" Maggie said as she straightened his dress. "Are you some kind of faggot lot lizzard?" She teased. "Show me" she produced a black dildo and had him suck on it. She took his phone and took pics.

"Do you think Kelly likes big black cock? Or is that just you?" She asked as she played with his little dick. When he came she caught it a

In her hand and pulled the toy from his mouth coated it in his cum and had him lick it clean.

Maggie demanded more pics and images, more risqué acts. And made him tell her how he was a pretty sissy faggot that wanted to suck cock. And get fucked in the ass. It had been months and when he returned home again it was impossible to hide the changes. His hair rested on his shoulders now. But also had blonde highlights. He smelled like a woman, not to mention the thinned eyebrows or the manicured hands. He wore a bra and panties everyday. Yet when Kelly saw him she didn't seem shocked.

"Maggie was right you aren't a man anymore" Kelly told him. Christina looked surprised. "Maggie gives me daily updates" Kelly smiled.

"OH and no not big black cocks, well not black at least" she smiled and smacked Christina's ass. "I'm going to get fucked be a good girl and do the dishes" Kelly laughed as she grabbed her keys and left Christina standing alone in the kitchen.

Hope you like this Roaddawg. Maybe when the wife's comes back she bends that cute girlie ass over and shoves a nice big dildo in it for you.

[metalfairygirl]

Family is not where you suffer (HEARTSTEEL Members & Female!Suffering!Teenager!Reader). Part 1.

Summary: You're a sixteen-year-old teenager who doesn't have a great life. Once your family was happy, but until the moment when your father was in a terrible accident and died, burned alive in the car. At that time you were only six years old, and that's when your mother became obsessed with alcohol. From that moment on, your life became a living hell. Ten years later, you got tired of suffering and decided to take a desperate step. But is it destined to happen?

Warnings: Mention of death, difficult childhood, alcoholic parents, domestic violence, rape, mention of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, long post.

A/N: Hello everyone! I've already seen that a lot of users have already become obsessed with the new virtual group, as well as me. And it was at two o'clock in the morning that I had the idea to write this nonsense. I will say right away that your meeting with the band members will be different, but then everything will go according to one storyline (but this will be in the second part). There may be inaccuracies in the work, since English is not my native language. There are many violent topics here, so I ask the faint-hearted not to read. I warned you! I also want to express my gratitude to those who inspired me to write this fan fiction. You guys are great! I adore you!: @ioniansunsets; @heartsteel-heartbeats; @timetoeatthebread-blog; @duckchu; @saey707. Have fun reading!

Background.

In a small apartment, music was playing at full volume, accompanied by the drunken singing of two voices. One is female, the other is male. All this was happening in a small kitchen that now looked like some kind of pigsty. Cigarette butts and empty alcohol bottles were scattered everywhere, and from this there was a rather nasty smell in the air, from which anyone would vomit. The table itself was stained with vomit mixed with tobacco ash. Ugh, it's disgusting. Yes, the couple had a great day.

At that moment, the front door of the apartment creaked open, letting in a third inhabitant. As soon as you entered, the sharp smell of alcohol, tobacco and vomit hit you in the nose, but you did not react to it. You've been used to it for a long time. So this is far from new to you. After examining the corridor, you found only clothes and shoes scattered on the floor. You growled softly but viciously. You were cleaning up all night last night, and they messed it up again. Fucking drunks... There was no other way you could have named your parents.

More precisely, you had one parent, it was your mother. And her new husband was your stepfather. You didn't have a father, because he died in a terrible accident when you were little, and your mother was normal and happy. Your dad was coming home from work then. You planned to have a real celebration in honor of his promotion. Your mom cooked a wonderful dinner, and you helped her. Everything is like in happy families. But the holiday was not destined to happen. At one point, the news began to be broadcast on TV. It said about a terrible accident where a man was burned alive. And that man turned out to be your father. When your mom listened to this, she froze in place with a plate and a cloth in her hands. Her eyes were dilated and her heart was pounding wildly. And you yourself have fallen into a strong state of shock. Everything around you seems to have disappeared. It's like an abyss surrounded you, filled with misunderstanding and fear. From this semblance of a trance, you were pulled out by the sound of a breaking plate that fell to the floor. Looking first at the already broken plate, and then at your mom, you noticed how she was shaking. It's like she was launched naked into Antarctica. And then loud sobs followed. She covered her face with the rag she was holding in her hand and began to sob loudly, not restraining her emotions. It turns out that the culprit of the whole celebration was a drunk driver who drove into the oncoming lane and collided with your father's car. That bastard only got off with a severed arm, and your dad died. He died because of some fucking drunk pig. You still wish this bitch was burning in hell right now, or that your father would come to them in a dream and strangle this bitch. And that's when your life changed forever.

At first, your mother grieved very much and shed tears. It is understandable that the loss of her husband greatly harmed her soul. You also cried with her, not believing that you would never see your dad again. After that, she started drinking to numb her pain. Many will think that yes, at first it is difficult to come to terms with the loss of a loved one, and therefore many drink alcohol to forget about the soul-devouring grief for a while, but somehow not so. Yes, your mother soon forgot about your father and let him go. But her grief turned into something terrible. She grabbed one bottle, then another, absorbing their contents. With each bottle of alcohol, her kindness and love for everything in the world faded away. You tried to somehow encourage her and support her, so that these qualities would not disappear in her. She said that everything would be fine and it was temporary. You were a little girl then and believed her, but you didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. And then your sweet and loving mom left. In her place came another. Angry, cruel and always drunk. Alcohol became her main obsession.

And then your life turned into a nightmare. Every day there are screams, scandals, late-night drinking and even beatings. Your mother has completely new methods of your upbringing. Every day she left more and more bruises and scratches on your body, which you had to hide so that the school would not find out what was happening at your house. During elementary school, you couldn't work, so you went to the neighbors to feed you, because of alcoholism, your mother stopped going to work, which is why she was fired. But she did not seek it either. You may ask, why didn't the neighbors call the guardianship authorities and report on the situation in your family? And everything is very simple. In your city, the guardianship system worked terribly. And the main thing is that the representatives of the authorities only ruffled the nerves of well-off families, and they just put a huge bolt on families like yours. And your neighbors knew about it perfectly well. Yes, they came to you, but they just looked at your apartment and left. And at that moment, your mother was sober and played a caring and responsible woman. The house was clean, because your mother didn't arrange the mess. And they didn't even find a bottle! In general, after watching the whole circus, they left and never came back. So you continued to live with your crazy mother.

One day you realized that you would have to rely only on yourself. You were completely alone in this gray and cruel world. There was almost no one to help you, but to some extent you were afraid to call for help. Your mother won't help you anymore. Even when you somehow managed to go to school, then after that your mother gave up on it. She completely gave up on your development and education. Her main goal was to pour as much alcohol into herself as possible and fall into unconsciousness. But you still loved her with your boundless childish love. You didn't care then whether she drank or not, you continued to love her and take care of her. But she didn't even respond to your care. And it was at that moment that you realized that you had no one else to expect help from. Your main support was yourself. You began to live for yourself and your future. It doesn't matter what obstacles stand in your way, but you had to be strong and confident to overcome them. And you should always be determined. So you had to grow up early...

At first everything was more or less normal. In elementary school, you had excellent grades, teachers did not scold you for mistakes and helped you in every way. It seemed to you that this would continue, that everything would be great for you at school, and that you would not be offended. Naive girl... That was until the moment when you went to high school and you reached adolescence. That's when you fully felt what it was like to be an outcast. They started laughing at you and scheming in every possible way. Who will trip you up, who will spill water on you, and who will even start watering you with obscene language. You were constantly bullied and mocked at you. They were constantly pointing fingers at you and saying how poor and miserable you were, and also that you were the daughter of an alcoholic. At first, of course, you were offended, but then you started ignoring them, considering them complete idiots who were spoiled by their richer parents. They continued to mock you in every possible way, but you just didn't hear them. As if they didn't exist. But soon they got tired of their "toy", so to speak, no longer reacting to them. And they came to more terrible methods. Your own classmates started beating you regularly. They locked you in the toilet, and then they would crowd on you with their fists, hitting you wherever they wanted and could. And others stood aside and filmed everything that was happening on the camera of their phones, smiling and laughing, satisfying their sadistic inclinations. And you were lying on the cold floor and screaming in pain, covering yourself with your hands so that they could not hit you in the most vulnerable places. You didn't understand why they hated you so much. You were just like them. The same age, and received the same knowledge as they did. But still, you were far from like them. Unlike them, you were chasing knowledge in order to get the desired profession in the future. You were interested in everything that could somehow attract you. You tried to help everyone, no matter what kind of person it is. You weren't rich, but your wealth was kindness and love. You were different. And they hated you for it. People can't stand those who don't look like them. And for this they should be humiliated. That's what your classmates thought. You went to school every day, like to hard labor, knowing how your peers treat you there. But you endured it all. And saved up in your soul.

Soon your mother brought to your house a man who was her old drinking companion. He was tall, several times taller than you. His hands were like two huge logs that could crush anyone to smithereens. He was dressed very untidily. Everywhere you looked, you could see greasy stains on almost every part of his clothes. And apparently he didn't wash it, because the smell was very unpleasant, so much so that you wanted to vomit. But his face was not so good either. Your mother told you that he was thirty-six years old, but he looked like he was fifty-five. There were very noticeable wrinkles on the forehead, and there were a lot of swelling on the rest of the face. His hair was disheveled and greasy, like the homeless people you sometimes met on the streets of the city. And this man is thirty-six years old? You didn't even think that alcohol changes people so much. But that wasn't the most important thing. The most terrible thing was that your mother said that he would be your stepfather. That's when you got really angry. You already have enough of your mom's drunkenness, and then she dragged some dirty lout home?! Is this drunken pig going to be your stepfather?! Without saying a word then, you went to your room, where you took out of the closet a leather jacket that your father always wore. You immediately felt such a native smell of his favorite cologne, which was soaked in his jacket. Sitting on the bed, you put it on yourself and... cried. Tears rolled down your cheeks, falling to the floor with a characteristic quiet thud.

"Dad... Daddy, I feel so bad... I don't want this guy to be my new dad... I want you to come back, Dad... I'm lonely without you... Daddy..." You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and tucking your legs under you.

This jacket is the only thing you have left from your father. You always kept it in your closet and wore it in cold weather. So you felt safe, and also felt calm. Every night, instead of a blanket, you put on this leather jacket and fell asleep, imagining that it was your father hugging you. This jacket always brought you back to the days when your dad was alive and you were all happy. His image is forever imprinted in your memory. His wide smile, kind eyes and loving gaze. It's a pity that it can't be returned. And so you would like to...

After that, things got even worse. Your stepfather started beating you along with your mom for any mistake you made, even the smallest one. Every time you returned home, you were met with another slap in the face and interrogation. The man himself was even more violent and cruel than your mother. He could just come up to you and hit you with such force that the bruised place would hurt for a very long time. Several times he dragged you by the hair and beat you against the wall. It hurt like hell. You hated him more than anything in the world.

Every day has been a real torture for you. You've suffered and suffered and suffered. You wanted to disappear from this world, into which you came for no clear reason. Very often, when you saw some drunk on the street, your hands automatically clenched into fists, and one desire flared up in your soul. Torture and kill this miserable pig. But you understood that if you commit murder, you will go to jail for a very long time. And it's even worse in prison than at home and at school. Therefore, you took out all the desire to commit an inhumane act on yourself. You beat yourself, scratched your skin, sometimes you cut yourself, but not your veins. The desire to live was still there.

All that made you live was music. No, not the one that your drunk parents usually listen to, but your favorite one. For the most part, these were groups consisting of young guys. Their cheerful attitude always made you forget all the troubles and continue to live. Every time you listened to your favorite songs, a stone fell from your soul that hurt you. Music was your only salvation. It was your corner where you could calm down and find strength.

At the age of fourteen, you found a job where you were finally able to earn money, although not very big, but it's better than going hungry and in old torn clothes. You were happy with every bill you earned with your hard work, which you put aside for new clothes or a gadget. While your classmates were drinking with their parents' money, you were working to feed and clothe yourself. You've even started to forget that you have two alcoholics living at home who should raise you, but they don't do it. It would seem that what could be worse than them and their beatings? And then you experienced one of the worst humiliations in the world...

One day when you returned from work, you didn't find your mother at home. She probably went somewhere. Only your stepfather was at home. Ignoring this, you went to your room, but then you felt someone's strong hands pinning you to the wall. It was your stepfather, who looked at you with a predatory gaze. You tried to escape, but all attempts were in vain. And then something happened that finally destroyed your already damaged psyche. It was humiliating. The way his hands touched you in not the most decent places, the way he beat you and tore your clothes. The way he violated your personal space. You were screaming from the wild pain that was tearing you apart from the inside. Tears rolled down your cheeks in streams, and you didn't feel your legs and arms at all. And then you blacked out. You woke up on the hallway floor. All your clothes were torn, there were bruises and bruises on your body, and you were lying in a puddle of all this shame. Everything hurt incredibly badly, especially the lower abdomen. That day you locked yourself in a room and sobbed while your stepfather was sleeping in the hall. Fucking bastard. You hit yourself on the shoulder. You wanted to kill him. You scratched your forehead. You hated him. You hated your mother. You hated your classmates. You hated all the alcoholics in the world. Suffering. Your whole life is suffering.

Now you have entered your room and sat down at the table to do your homework, as well as prepare for exams a little. You didn't work much today because you were released early, so it was time to study. But the calm did not last long.

"Hey... bitch, where have... you... been?..." Your stepfather asked when he burst into your room.

Snorting, you slowly turned to him and stared at him with an irritated look. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. He could barely stand on his feet. It seemed that a little more, and he would collapse on the floor and fall asleep on it. He was holding a half-empty vodka bottle in his hand. No wonder, he always drank it from the throat, without biting or drinking. His gaze was distracted, but angry. A stream of saliva ran down his chin. Ugh, it's a disgusting sight.

"Father, I just got home from work and I'm going to do my homework. Can you please leave me alone? Exams won't pass themselves."

You said, looking at him disdainfully with a contemptuous glance. Growling, the man slammed the door and went to his room. Exhaling, you turned to your desk and started studying. You had to put on headphones so as not to hear the drunken screams.

The very first thing you put on the audition is a new song by a completely new band "HEARTSTEEL." You stumbled upon them completely by accident. You were just flipping through a social media feed and at one point you came across a post that a new band would release their first song. That interested you. And then you got sucked into the whole topic. You started to constantly follow the updates and news. You found out about all the participants. And honestly, you admired them. Ezreal is a passionate lover of discovering something new, Sett is brave and courageous, ready to protect anyone, K'Sante is supportive and strong, Yone is calm and reasonable, Aphelios is quiet and very talented, and Kayn is a guy who will go against any rules in order to achieve his goal. Each of them gave you motivation to get up and go to your goal. They gave you hope that everything would be fine.

Right now, the main thing for you was to finish school, go to university and leave your parents. And it was these guys who gave you the motivation for this.

After completing your homework and exam preparation, you headed to the kitchen to cook dinner for yourself and your parents. They can't just eat alcohol. When you entered the kitchen, you again found them at the table, drinking another bottle. Rolling your eyes, you started cooking.

"Mom, Dad, will you eat?" You asked while slicing bread.

They didn't pay attention to you right away. They stared at one point with their mouths slightly open, hunched over the table. The first sign of movement was given by your mother. She slowly turned her head towards you and looked at you with her misty gaze. After which she muttered softly.

"Yes-s-s..."

Shrugging your shoulders, you continued cooking. While you were cutting up the groceries, it seemed strange to you that your mom and stepfather were sitting almost motionless and silent, staring at nothing. In this state, you almost never saw them, because they usually sat at the table and sang songs, drinking alcohol along the way. You were standing and looking at them, and something alarm suddenly appeared in you. It seemed to you that something bad would happen in a few moments, and that you urgently needed to get up. And they sat and hardly moved. It's like time has stopped, by God. But after inhaling and exhaling, you continued cooking, no longer paying attention to them. But the silence was still interrupted by your mother.

"Y-Y/N, my d-daughter... Dad and... I want t-to... talk to... you..." She barely stammered with her slurred tongue.

When you heard the word "Dad", you slightly squeezed the edge of the countertop with your hands. The muscles tensed at the same moment.

«He's not my father and he never will be...»

It was this thought that first visited your head for a short period of time. You still couldn't get it into your head that this drunk was playing the role of your father. And he does it the wrong way, from the word at all. From these thoughts, you involuntarily had a small shiver down your back, which made you wince. But with grief in half, you slowly turned to your parents and, with a convulsive sigh, folded your arms on your chest. Looking away, you answered.

"I'm listening to you..."

Your mother continued.

"Daught-ter, you are... already an a-adult... and... you understand... e-everythin-ng." She babbled, pouring vodka into a glass, and then drinking it in one gulp.

"Don't delay, I need to eat and go to bed. I have to go to work tomorrow." You snorted, already knowing that it would take a long time.

The woman continued.

"We've been... thin-nking a-and dec-cided... that... we want to h-have... a... s-second ch-child. You know, to... hav-ve a brother or sist-ter, ri-ight?" She said all this while looking at you with her glass eyes.

From what you heard, your eyes involuntarily widened and your eyebrows rose. It seemed to you that you were listening to the nonsense of some mentally ill person who did not understand what situation they was in. In principle, it was, but your mother was not a crazy psycho, but dependent on alcohol. And it still didn't bring you a sense of relief. It was much worse. If she carries a child, she will simply kill them at the stage of their development, given how much alcohol is contained in her body. This thought made the blood in your veins boil with increasing rage and indignation. Didn't she realize that she was a threat to the child? Apparently not.

Straightening up and staring straight at your mother, you blurted out with all your might, putting in all your anger.

"Mom, are you crazy at all?! What child?! You drink for days on end, and your blood is completely soaked with alcohol! Don't you understand that this will simply KILL the child?! It seems to me that you are no longer friends with brains at all!"

Your stepfather intervened in the conversation.

"What did you just say, you little thing?! Did you call her a stupid psycho?! Come here, you bastard!"

You already realized what he was going to do to you, and at the same moment you took off in order to get to your room as soon as possible and lock yourself in it, but you didn't have time. His strong hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you sharply towards him, causing severe pain, from which you screamed loudly. You had the feeling that he wanted to tear it off.

"You little shite, who are you to open your fucking mouth?! Now I'll teach you when to speak!!!"

"No, ple- Aaaahhh!!!"

The first blow landed right in your face, causing you to stagger and fall to the floor. From the collision with the floor, you groaned through your teeth. But they didn't even let you catch your breath, as you were kicked in the stomach, which caused you to fall to the floor again. The next blow you received in the side, then in the lower back. The pain was unbearable. You screamed and asked to stop all this, but your stepfather didn't care. Your torment brought him wild pleasure and satisfaction. You wriggled in every way and tried to avoid blows, but everything was useless. The man was too strong. Before that, his blows were strong, but not so much as to cause you such terrible torment. This time he was truly furious and beat you with all his might, trying not to leave a living place on you. You thought a couple more punches and he'd kill you. Each blow pulled out of you a loud cry filled with pain and anguish. Burning and salty rivulets were already flowing down your face. And the worst was yet to come.

"Dad, please... Ahh!!!"

"Shut up, bitch! You have no right to open your fucking mouth without my permission! You're nobody! You are a pitiful creature with no right to life! You shouldn't have been in this world at all!"

And your mother was still sitting at the table and watching everything that was happening. There was zero emotion on her face. Absolute indifference. She didn't care that her own child was being beaten like never before. She didn't care that her daughter was suffering at the hands of that bastard. She didn't care that she was screaming in pain and suffering. And you looked at her with tear-stained eyes and begged her with a look that she would at least do something, but she was relentless. She sat and watched it with a stony face, as if she was watching some movie, and there was a scene of violence in it, which was your beating now. Did she really want you to suffer like this? What have you done to her? After all, everything you said is true. They don't take offense at the truth, do they? Isn't that right?!

Meanwhile, your stepfather grabbed your hair and started pulling hard on it, making you scream even louder. Clutching your head, you tried to somehow drown out the pain and escape, but to no avail. The man's grip was just dead. It was as if his hands had turned to stone, attached to your strands. Pain shot through your entire head, reaching all the way to your neck. It seemed to you that a little more and he would pull out your hair along with the skin and meat.

Then he also pulled you to your feet by the hair, and then threw you into the wall with all his strength. So you hit your head hard, but you didn't pass out. And only then, when the man hit your head against that damn wall a few more times, you felt warm liquid trickling down your face. Running your fingertips over your temple and looking at them, you saw blood.

Distracted from the blood and turning to your stepfather, you saw him raise his fist over his head. And then it hit you like an electric shock. You took off like a bullet and rushed to your room. You heard menacing and heavy footsteps behind you, along with a voice shouting death threats at you. That brief moment of running seemed like an eternity to you. Finally, when you reached the cherished door, you grabbed the handle and turned it. A click, then a creak. You're already inside. At the last moment, you locked the door so that this asshole wouldn't get in. And he tried. He was banging on your door, screaming and puffing. And you, huddled in the corner of the room, did not take your eyes off the door, breathing heavily, chained by the chains of fear and horror of the experience. No, you couldn't do that anymore. You need to get out of here. Anywhere, as long as it's away from them!

To the sound of banging on the door, you grabbed your backpack and started packing quickly. Clothes, pen, sheets of paper, money, headphones, phone - all this turned out to be in your backpack. And then you quickly dressed in jeans and a hoodie, because it was November outside. You should have dressed warmer. And only then did you pull out your father's leather jacket from the closet, which you put on over a hoodie. As soon as you put it on, you instantly felt calm and determined. Putting a backpack on your back, you went to the window. The first floor is too low, you can't break.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by an incredibly loud bang on the door of your room. You saw that the wooden door had already given a small crack. Time is short, you need to jump out of the window and run. Standing on the windowsill and fully opening the window, you sighed and pulled yourself together and jumped out into the street. You landed on the asphalt safely, without breaking anything when landing. Without looking back at the window of your room, you got to your feet and ran wherever your eyes looked.

You ran without taking apart the road. Silhouettes of people and buildings flashed rapidly before your eyes. Andrenaline was raging in your body, which made you rush like lightning. You didn't feel your legs that were carrying you to some unknown place. All you were thinking about right now was WHERE to run to. You didn't have any friends or relatives. You had no one to go to. You knew there was no one to help you. You are completely alone in this world. You are a lone wolf that roams the world, surviving in it and relying only on yourself. All the moments of your life flashed before your eyes. You remembered all your torments and sufferings. All the pain that has been inflicted on you endlessly. From this, the hole in your soul became bigger and bigger, devouring all the beautiful particles, like a hungry pack of yard dogs. Tears rolled down your face in an instant. Your whole life is a continuous torment. The whole world hated you. No one wanted to help you, much less comfort and support you. Nobody cared. Your dad died a long time ago, and your kind and loving mom also left you, leaving behind only her vile and nasty shadow. And since everyone didn't care about you, why are you here? Why do you have to suffer and shed endless tears? Is it really impossible to disappear from this world? Who cares about you? That's right, no one. And probably the best option would be to disappear. No one will notice anything. Although not. No. Some should notice. They should know.

Running into the first park you came across, you sat down on a bench and, unbuttoning your backpack, took out a piece of paper and a pen, after which you began to write convulsively.

"Hi. If you found my body, you probably found this note. I'm tired of living in this rotten world and suffering every day. I was constantly experiencing fear and pain that gradually enveloped my body, mind and soul. But now I'm free. And now the only thing that can bring me peace forever is that those who hurt me will see my body. Police, search party, rescuers, or whatever they call you, please fulfill my posthumous request. Show my body to my classmates, teachers, and especially parents. Let them see what their actions have led to. I want to see the reaction and, hopefully, horror and regret for what I did. Let these creatures see the suffering frozen on my face, see the dead eyes soaked with tears. Then, perhaps, I will find peace, knowing that they have seen the fruits of their filthy labors. Goodbye and please don't hurt others."

Exhaling, you folded the sheet and put it in your backpack along with the pen. And it was at this moment that a heavy downpour poured down, as if the heavens themselves were mourning your imminent departure from this cursed world that people had spoiled, but you didn't care about it. You just kept sitting on the bench and getting wet, remembering your whole short life. A life that was filled only with torments and torments. But soon it will all be over, and you will find such a long-awaited freedom from cold shackles. Today you needed to rest, and tomorrow you will do what you were already ready and eager for.

Your meeting with the members.

Aphelios.

The next morning you headed out of city. To a place where no one lived. You spent the whole night in the park, lying on a bench. You have never rejected the idea of your own demise. You were already fully attuned to this. Therefore, it's time to put your plan into action.

All the way you were accompanied by a light cold breeze that played with your hair. Dry leaves of orange and yellow hues crunched underfoot. You passed by people who were going about their business and thinking about their own, not even suspecting that the girl who passed by them would soon leave this world forever.

And finally, the city was left behind. You were greeted by large and thin, bare trees. They towered over you, and the wind stirred from the branch, and it seemed as if they were inviting you to enter their abode. Without any emotion on your face, you entered this gloomy and cold forest. The atmosphere was suitable. Tension, melancholy and apathy. As if everyone had already found out what was going to happen soon. And you moved on. It was as if you were drawn somewhere. And that something brought you to the place that was perfect for your plan.

It was a large and abandoned concrete building. It was so cold and damp. Emptiness. Yes, the perfect place. With these thoughts, you went to it, looking at its empty windows. A gray and dreary building, in which there was not a soul. Already entering inside, this darkness caught your eye. Any normal person would immediately leave this place out of harm's way, but not you. The first step has already decided everything. And then the second, third, fourth and fifth. The darkness of this building gradually sucked you in, and soon you completely disappeared into it.

Aphelios wandered among the thin and bare trees, and the fallen leaves crunched under his feet. He admired all this beauty of autumn and was glad that he was finally able to get out of this city bustle. There's no traffic noise, no chatter. Silence, calmness, and the whisper of the wind that jumped on thin branches. Breathing in the cool air, the guy with ruby-red eyes was filled with inspiration to write a new composition. And it's good that he was in such a wilderness. Here he will not be annoyed by the eternal grumbling of Kayn, nor by the comic showdowns of Sett and K'Sante. And besides, his sister advised him to take a break from this routine fuss and get out of town somewhere. Alune will not advise anything bad. Aphelios has already been convinced of this many times.

After a long but not tedious walk, Aphelios finally came across a large and gray abandoned building. Chuckling, the guy already understood where he should write a composition. But he has to be careful. You never know what kind of psycho is hiding there. Fortunately, he took a stun gun with him. Aphelios read a lot of stories about abandonments and therefore he prepared for this campaign.

Determined, he moved forward, deciding to walk around the building. He also wanted to take some photos for the cover of the song. Passing near the building, Aphelios examined each brick. With his fingertips, he touched the rough surface of the walls, passing over them in order to absorb as much of this energy and atmosphere as possible. Silence. A blissful silence that nothing and no one can break. And then a distant shuffling and someone's whispering.

The red-eyed man stopped immediately. What, he's not alone here? No, no, he just imagined it. Trying not to move, he listened. At first there was nothing, but then there was shuffling again. This was followed by footsteps and... sobs. Didn't he hear it? Was someone really crying there? He listened again. No, well, in nature, someone was crying. After listening closely, Aphelios realized that this cry was made by a girl. He wonder what she was doing here at all? Out of curiosity, the guy went to this sound. As a result, he stopped at the turn to the other side of the building. But this time there was no crying. What? How? He just heard it. Nothing is clear. But then shuffling. Sticking his head around the corner, the red-eyed man was horrified. On the fifth floor of the building there was a teenager - a girl of about sixteen. She was standing right at the very edge, her fists clenched. Tears were streaming down her reddened face. She was looking ahead and shaking all over. Aphelios was seriously scared. Is she going to jump? He quickly started darting his eyes from the girl, then to the ground and back again. The fifth floor, and the ground is solid below. She's going to crash! But before he could return his gaze to the ground again, the girl had already gone out the window and flew down. Damn it! He had to catch her! Taking off and quickly covering the distance to the place of the fall, Aphelios stood up and put his hands forward, preparing to catch the suicide.

It seemed like an eternity had passed. You were flying down, closing your eyes, already resigned to the fact that now your head will turn into a bloody mess. But it wasn't meant to happen, because you felt like someone's hands caught you. And then you fell on a carpet of leaves with this someone. You understood absolutely nothing. Who wanted to save you from the fate you wanted? Who decided to leave you in a world full of torment? You turned your head and saw a guy with turquoise hair and blood-red eyes. He was sitting on the ground, holding you to him with one hand. You recognized him. It was Aphelios from the band HEARTSTEEL. What the fuck was he doing in the middle of nowhere? Wasn't he supposed to be with the other guys in the band right now? Your train of thought was interrupted by a whisper.

"Why?"

"I... I... I have the same question... Why did you do that? I wanted to die, and you... you!"

Tears involuntarily flowed from your eyes. Anger, despair, pain and resentment splashed out in the form of salty streams. This sight made Aphelios unbearable to watch the poor girl crying. Is it how bad everything is for you that you decided to do this? He didn't know that. He could only sigh and hug you to him.

"H-Huh?..."

You were in the deepest shock. It was the first time you've been hugged in such a long time. You... You felt this warmth again, which you haven't received for so long, and which you craved so much. The last time your late dad hugged you like that, and that's what made you burst into tears even more and cling to Aphelios' jacket with your hands.

"It's all good... Don't be afraid of me... I won't hurt you..."

His whispering had a sedative effect on you. You stopped shaking like a leaf in the wind and relaxed. Gradually, your loud crying subsided, taking with it all your negative feelings, leaving only emptiness.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders, Aphelios whispered.

"Let's go. It's going to be dark soon."

Without answering in any way, you went together to the exit of this forest. When you finally reached the city, it was already evening, but the lights of the city illuminated the way. You stopped at a small cafe to catch your breath. And besides, the guy wanted you to warm up more or less, because when he walked with his arm around your shoulders, he felt that your clothes were wet. And last night there was a heavy downpour, so he guessed that you got under it. He ordered you a hot drink. All this time you've been sitting and staring at nothing. There was a void in your soul and head that you didn't know how to fill.

Meanwhile, Aphelios corresponded with his sister.

«Hello, Alune. Did I disturb you by any chance?»

«No, Phel. What happened? Are you going back already?»

«Yes, I'm on my way back. But I have some problem.»

«What happened? What's the problem???»

«I'll explain now. When I was walking through the woods, where you advised me to go, I came across a five-story abandoned building. I thought there was no one there, so I went there. Well, to record a composition there. When I got closer, I heard extraneous sounds. At first I thought I was imagining it, but it turned out that I wasn't. First there was shuffling, then footsteps, and then crying.»

«Crying???! 😨😨 And who cried?»

«It was a girl, as I realized then. Then out of curiosity I decided to take a look. And when I looked around the corner, I just fucked up. In general, there was a girl of about sixteen standing on the fifth floor. She cried and looked into the distance. Her hands and lips were shaking as if she had been launched naked into Antarctica. Do you know what the worst thing is?»

«What???😨»

«She was fucking standing on the edge, you know? ON THE VERY FUCKING EDGE!!!»

«Seriously??!! Did she really want to...???»

«Yes! It's a blessing that I managed to catch her before she crashed to her death...»

«What a horror... It's good that you were there in time. If it wasn't for you, then... Ehh, okay... Where is she now?»

«We're sitting in a cafe right now. We decided to take a break. Besides, she needs to be warmed up. She's all wet. She probably hasn't been home since last night.»

«What is she doing?»

«She just sits there and doesn't move much. Staring at nothing.»

«She's probably in a state of shock.»

«Alune, she's unlikely to tell me anything in the near future. I don't even know her name. Do you think it would be better if I brought her with me? And by the way, are the guys sleeping?»

«Yes, everyone is asleep, but Kayn has gone somewhere. He's probably being aired. And yes, you're right, bring her to us. She'll take a shower and sleep. Tomorrow we'll get together and find out everything.»

«Good. She will sleep in my room. See you later, sis.»

Putting the phone in his jacket pocket, Aphelios turned his attention back to you. Your posture and look haven't changed. Already when a hot drink was brought to you, you reluctantly took the mug in your hands and began to drink slowly. The musician immediately noticed that your hands were shaking a little. Alune was right, you're in shock.

After a while, when you finished your drink, you and the guy went out.

On the way, Aphelios thought about how everything would go tomorrow. He had a good day after all. He came to the forest to write a song, and he returns with a teenager who almost committed suicide. But he was still glad that he had saved a poor and so young soul from death. Nothing, tomorrow they will figure out what to do with you next.

Ezreal.

Sitting on a bench in the park, you looked up at the sky, from where heavy and cold raindrops fell that hit your skin on your face. The cold tried to get under your clothes, but you wrapped yourself even more in your father's leather jacket. Plan by plan, but you didn't want to freeze. You were thinking about where it would be best to spend the night, but you had no options. You had nowhere to go, and it was dangerous to go home, because you didn't know if your crazy stepfather had calmed down. Memories of the experience earlier made themselves felt. The temple began to throb painfully.

Wincing, you ran your finger over the place where a small river of red liquid had flowed out before. No, there was nothing. Thanks to the cap, the bleeding was stopped, but the pain did not go away. Reaching into your backpack again, you took out a pack of painkillers and a bottle of water. Fortunately, you always carried them with you just in case. Taking one tablet, throwing it into your mouth and drinking water, you exhaled, leaned back against the back of the bench, throwing your head back.

You thought about going to some small shop and asking the owner to warm up, but you realized that if you were accepted, then questions would begin. And then you will be invited to their home at all so that you can warm up and sleep. Okay, you'll sleep and rest, but in the morning you'll have to go to an empty and deserted place and execute your plan. And there may also be a chance that the owner of the shop may be a very kind person who wanted to help you, and you can get attached to them. It will be cruel to them if you leave without saying anything, and after a while they finds out that you committed suicide altogether. After all, they gave you warmth, comfort and care, and in this way you repaid them. No, no, you're not going anywhere. You can't get attached to people right now, you'll just be an extra burden on their shoulders. Who needs a pathetic and traumatized teenager?

Exhaling convulsively, you put your backpack on the edge of the bench, and then completely lay down on it, as on a bed, propping your knees to your chest. Your backpack has replaced your pillow, and your father's jacket is a blanket, as always. The rare people who passed by paid absolutely no attention to you. Of course, some tramp decided to rest. Let her lie and get wet, and this is no longer their concern, they have more important things to do. Soulless scums...

Gradually, your eyes began to slowly close. You didn't care about the rain that was inexorably pouring down on your exhausted body. Now you just wanted to fall into oblivion. You didn't even want to dream. Only a pitch-black void. And after a few moments, you fell where you wanted to.

Ezreal breathed in the morning and cool air that was soaked with moisture left over from last night's downpour. In his hand, hidden by a glove, he held a glass of coffee, which he periodically drank in order to protect himself from the cold of autumn. The morning was earlier, and there were almost no people on the street. And it was only to our early bird's advantage. He just wanted to be alone and enjoy the morning tranquility. And a cup of coffee only gave this atmosphere coziness and even some aesthetics.

And just by the way, the entrance to the park came into his field of vision. Great, he can sit on a bench there and fully immerse himself in this atmosphere. What can stop him?

Entering the park, Ezreal began to look around. There were trees everywhere, with leaves of all kinds of fiery shades falling from them every now and then. From bright yellow to burgundy, like royal velvet. The ground was littered with these very leaves, thereby decorating it. A kind of natural carpet on which anyone would want to lie down to feel part of all this beauty. The guy felt like he was in a fairy tale.

But then his gaze fell on one of the benches that stood in the park. He looked closer and saw that a person was lying on it. From afar, it was unclear to him who was lying there. At first he thought it was a homeless person or some kind of alcoholic. But as soon as he got a few steps closer, his guesses were instantly refuted. A sad sight opened before his eyes. On the bench, curled up like a little kitten, lay a sixteen-year-old girl, all soaked through. Her face was pale as a toadstool, her lips were blue from the cold. And the tips of her fingers were trembling slightly. Had she been lying here all night and getting wet in the rain? And no one bothered to help her? Ezreal stood and looked at her, thinking how selfish it would take to pass by a freezing and lonely girl. He also wondered why she was here all alone. Had she run away from home? No, it won't work that way. She needs help.

Approaching the bench, the guy put his hand on her shoulder and began to gently push her to wake her up.

"Hey, beauty, wake up. What are you doing here alone?"

You were brought out of the dream by someone's hand gently pushing you, as well as someone's voice.

"Mmh?..."

Somehow opening your eyes that were stuck together, you looked at the person who came up to you. At first everything was blurry, but the first thing that caught your eye was the hair the color of spring grass. Then everything became more or less clear, and soon you could see the owner of these very hair and voice. What was your surprise when you saw in front of you not some ordinary guy, but Ezreal himself - the vocalist of the band HEARTSTEEL.

"Hi. Oh my God, you're all wet! Have you been here all night?!"

And you were still lying on the bench and staring at him in a stupor. In his eyes, you saw the concern that was also imbued with his voice. Was he worried about you? No... No, no, no, not now. You can't betray your feelings, you can't cry, you can't cry...

"Hey, hey, why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?"

"N... n... N-No..."

Sitting next to you, he wrapped one arm around you, thereby forcing you to take a sitting position. You covered your face with your hands and still continued to shed tears, leaning forward. The green-haired guy just shook his head, and then, putting his hand on your back, began stroking, trying to comfort you. It was the first time anyone had been worried about you in such a long time. Many would have simply rejected it, believing that it was a trifle, but for you it was comparable to a real treasure. The most real and expensive.

But after a while you calmed down.

"Everything okay? Are you feeling better?"

You just nodded at that. Sighing, Ezreal got up from the bench, and then stretched out his hand to help you get up. Without forgetting your backpack, you went together to the exit of the park. You were silent for several minutes, but Ezreal decided to break this silence.

"So tell me, what were you doing here all night, huh?"

"... I was sleeping."

"Logically. But still... why? What were you doing here all alone, and even at night?"

"I don't know..."

"Friend, there's a reason for everything. I can see that you've been preparing for this."

The guy said, pointing to your backpack. Damn, what were you supposed to say now?

"Did you run away from home?"

"What?! No, no, I am... actually... yes..."

"Hmmm..."

Ezreal stopped and looked away, putting his hand on his chin, rubbing it with his thumb and forefinger. You were standing next to him and looked at him with an emotionless look. You didn't really care what he decided. If only not...

"Good. I'll take you back to your house. Your parents are probably worried about you..."

Parents... That word made your pupils narrow and your eyes widen to the size of saucers. A shiver ran through your whole body, causing a herd of goosebumps. Your arms and legs began to shake involuntarily, your palms clung to the straps of the backpack like a lifeline. Your heart was pounding like crazy, as if it wanted to break out like a bird in a cage.

"No... No... No... Don't..."

"Hey, friend, what's wrong with you? You're kind of pale and... Oh, my God..."

The impact on the ground echoed in his ears. He watched you sitting on the ground, clutching your head and repeating the same words.

"No... No... Don't want... Don't want... I'm not coming back... Hate... Hate..."

"This is bad... I have to do something..."

Picking up the phone, Ezreal instantly logged into Discord and started a group call. He didn't have to wait long.

"Ez?"

"Hi guys. Am I distracting you?"

"No, not really. What happened? You're in some kind of mess, aren't you?"

"I guess he's calling us again about some bullshit."

"Guys, don't interrupt me! Let me speak!"

"Pfft, go ahead..."

"Guys, we have an emergency. Emergency of universal scale."

"What is it this time?"

"And you listen to it yourself."

After falling silent, he came up to you a little so that the other members of the group could hear you. After a few seconds, walking back, Ezreal said.

"Well, have you heard, hm?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Come on. Surely he decided to prank us, haha!"

"Joking is in the spirit of Aphelios, Kayn!"

"In general, guys, I found a teenage girl in the park. She was sleeping on a bench, and it looks like she spent the whole night there because she was wet. And I also found out that she ran away from home. And why, she doesn't say, and now I'm unlikely to be able to find out anything, because she's hysterical. You're already hearing it now."

"And who of us didn't run away from home as a child? Nothing, she'll get sick, calm down, and then take her home."

"I told her about it, but it all led to panic. It looks like everything is bad at home, since she reacted like that. Therefore, K'Sante, come. I'll send you the coordinates. Because I do not know how to calm her down in such a situation."

"All right, Ez. I'm getting ready."

"Yone, you cook something for now, because she's pale as a toadstool, and she probably hasn't eaten since yesterday."

"Don't worry, it will be done."

"Thank you. See you later!"

After completing the call, the guy turned to you. You were still hunched over on the ground, holding your head and muttering to yourself. A nightmarish and heartbreaking sight. It was unbearable for Ez to watch a very young and not yet strong soul suffer and suffer. A small, weak, defenseless, but beautiful girl completely alone in this cruel world that was ready to tear her to pieces. Someone had to protect her. Who will do it, if not him?

He squatted down next to you again and, wrapping his arms around you, pressed you to him, stroking your hair. It remains only to wait for K'Sante, but he will not move a millimeter before his arrival. You needed protection and warmth.

Kayn.

The downpour gradually began to stop, but soon completely subsided, leaving behind only huge puddles of moist coolness. By the time the downpour ended, the sky had turned dark blue, almost black. There was no moon in the sky, not even a star. One black canvas.

Just like the stars in the sky, there were almost no people on the streets. The power in this area has passed into the hands of silence, which has already sat down in its place and began to observe everything that is happening.

A mischievous and cool autumn breeze was still running through the streets. Like a child who was interested in everything, it touched every object that came in its way and whistled softly, as if giggling. It jumped on the branches of trees, like a fluffy red squirrel, stirring those few leaves that still somehow held on to the thin and crooked limbs of their carriers.

Jumping down from one of the fallen asleep trees, it flew up to the girl sitting on the bench and touched her, making her shiver from its cold and invisible body.

Wrapping yourself even more tightly in your father's leather jacket, you gasped, shaking like a little girl who was afraid of an imaginary monster under her bed. Your clothes were soaked through with rainwater, which was even worse. It stuck unpleasantly to your skin like a leech, and it made you look like a doormat. Take and squeeze out, a whole bucket of water will be poured. Although in your case, not only water, but also blood.

All this time you've been sitting on this bench and never got up from your seat. You sat and did not move, like a statue, and stared at one point, immersed in your thoughts. Thoughts that all this would end as soon as possible, and you would fully feel the embrace of that peace that you craved like water. The temple still hurt, but not much. The painkillers that you drank were slowly working. But it didn't help to get rid of the memories of the horror that happened at your house a few hours ago. Just the thought of a drunken mother and a cruel stepfather made a whole herd of goosebumps run through your skin, accompanied by shivering, but not from the cold, but from wild fear.

You didn't know what was going on at your house right now, but you didn't even want to know, because you guessed. Surely they were still sitting at the kitchen table, which was covered with a tablecloth stained with alcohol, vomit and tobacco ash, and continued to drink alcohol and sing songs from thirty or even forty years ago, not even noticing that their "beloved" daughter had long escaped from this pigsty. And, most likely, during this period of time they never bothered to check on you. This thought made you sick, disgusting and very insulting. It looks like they really had a bottle of alcohol more expensive than you, and they didn't need you. However, you realized this a long time ago.

"Heh... Still, I should disappear... Nobody needs me here..."

Mechanically, you raised your head to the night sky and looked at it as if you saw someone close and dear there.

"But you need me, don't you, Dad? Isn't that right? I want to go to heaven with you so much... Don't worry, we'll be together soon. It won't be long now..."

A slight smile appeared on your blue lips only for a moment.

As a result, you sat on this bench for an hour. Then you took your phone out of your backpack and looked at the time. It's already midnight.

"It's time..." You whispered, getting up from the bench.

The stiff joints immediately made themselves felt. After warming up a little, you went to the exit of the empty park, holding the straps of your backpack.

There was not a soul in the streets. The dark night has taken over everything, which will be the last for you today. You were scared. You were afraid of the unknown. Who knows what's there after death? Maybe there really is something there, or maybe there's nothing there at all? Just solid darkness. And it was the second option that scared you the most. You didn't want to be in the void, like a file deleted from the system. All resolve immediately came to naught.

"Maybe I should go home?..."

Why? You know what will happen if you come back. Everything will go in a circle again. Beatings, screams, scandals, eternal drunken parents, sleepless nights, bullying at school and tears pouring from your eyes. Why do you need all this? Is it not enough for you that you suffer day after day? Wouldn't it be easier to send it all to hell and finally get out of this fucking world? Since you conceived this idea, then you have to make it a reality. So what's the matter? Fear? Yes, everyone is afraid of the unknown, but at least then you won't suffer like a bird in a tight and small cage.

Clenching your hands into fists to such an extent that your knuckles turned white, you squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lower lip. There was a struggle going on in you. One side was crowding out the other. At first, the fight was on an equal footing, but then the dark side began to gain the upper hand. The bright side was weakening with each blow. The first blow, the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth and... Knockout.

Opening your eyes abruptly, you took off and ran with the speed of a bullet along the avenue illuminated by street lamps. The sound of your shoes on the asphalt echoed down the avenue. You ran without knowing exactly where you were going. It was as if your feet themselves were leading you to the place of realization of your terrible plan. Because of the adrenaline that was raging in you, you did not feel tired and pain in your legs at all. Now you could be compared to a champion in athletics, you were also rushing through the streets at high speed.

You accelerated only when you ran past the building of your school. The moment you ran past it, everything slowed down for a brief moment. A flash followed by memories of what happens to you there when you get there. Giggles, finger pointing, taunts and beatings in the toilet. Your dark side was whispering to you to run again.

You didn't know how long you were running like that, but you stopped only when you reached the embankment. Just as empty and lit by lanterns. Sitting on a nearby bench, you took a deep breath. It was like running a marathon.

Walking with your eyes along the entire embankment, you noticed the bridge. A very long and large bridge. And again, your feet seemed to lead you there by themselves.

Once there, you looked into the distance. The river that flowed calmly and slowly made you fall into some kind of trance state. It drew you, called you to it, and you obeyed this quiet call. Resting against the railings of the bridge, you looked down. The height was huge, and the water was definitely cold. If you jump off, then due to a collision with the surface of the water, you can break all the bones. But it's going to be fast, isn't it? You won't even feel it.

You've already started climbing over the railings, still looking at the river. Already being completely on the opposite side, you, holding hands and feet for the metal and cold fence, sighed. That's all. Your torment is over.

The quiet atmosphere of the embankment made Kayn calm down and think that no one could stop him now. A difficult day affected his emotional state. Before that, he was irritated and hot-tempered as never before, which almost led to a major quarrel between his colleagues. But fortunately he managed to go out tonight and clear his head so that tomorrow he could work with a fresh head.

At some point, his gaze caught someone climbing over the railings of a stone, but a huge bridge.

"What the fuck? What did they forget there?..."

Coming closer, he squinted and began to observe what was happening. Although it was impossible to really see who it was from this distance, something told Kayn that it was a teenager - a girl of sixteen. She had already completely climbed over the railings and, holding on to it, was looking down. Kayn also looked at the water. Then back. Then back to the water, and so in a circle several times. And then it hit him like an electric shock.

"Is she going to jump?! Holy shit, not that."

Taking off, the guy rushed to the bridge. He had catastrophically little time, and every second was important. Kayn has already guessed what is about to happen, but no, he must not allow it.

Breath. Exhale. Turning your gaze to the moon, you whispered softly, and a single tear ran down your cheek.

"Dad, I'm coming to you..."

You let go of the railings and...

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"

The feeling of being grabbed by the collar and pulled on yourself finally brought you out of the trance. Someone's hands pulled you out of the clutches of death, bringing you back to the asphalt. You stood motionless, eyes wide open and looking at nothing. You didn't understand what was going on. And only then did those same hands clench tightly on your shoulders and start shaking you, and someone you knew looked right into your eyes. Kayn from HEARTSTEEL.

"What the fuck were you thinking?! Are you tired of living?!"

"... Yes."

A short, but clear and understandable answer.

"Is it how bad everything is for you that you decided to commit suicide?!"

Silence. Sighing, Kayn put his hand on his face and shook his head. He felt some kind of relief that you were alive and not in the arms of icy water right now.

"Where is your home?"

"NO! I'M NOT GOING BACK THERE!"

From your sharp and loud voice, the guy already shuddered. He immediately drew attention to your shaking body and eyes that were panicking from side to side. Panic. He knew it right away.

"Hey, calm down!"

Again you felt yourself being shaken by the shoulders. You've come to your senses.

"Damn, you're all wet. You were walking in the rain, right?"

"..."

"Okay, let's go. God forbid you get sick."

"Just please don't bring me home..."

"Pfft, I can already guess the reason for your decision. Don't worry, kiddo, you'll spend the night with the guys, and tomorrow you'll tell us what's going on at your home. Believe me, when I was your age, I also ran away from home."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Only then I was stupid. I wanted to show that I am an adult. But I see that your case is special."

His presence had a calming effect on you. You have already stopped shaking, and the feeling of anxiety has left you.

"Come on, suicidal girl." Grinning, he muttered.

Putting his arm around your shoulders, Kayn pulled you a little closer to him. You felt a kind of brotherly aura emanating from him. You felt safe with him. Now you no longer felt useless to anyone, otherwise he would have passed by and would not have tried to help you. Not everything is lost, right?

K'Sante.

The night has already fully taken possession of this city. The black sky covered everything around like a huge blanket. But it did not retain heat. Quite the opposite. It was very cold.

You were still sitting on a bench with your knees pressed to your chest and shaking. The cold bit you relentlessly in all the places available to it, especially where your clothes were soaked with rainwater. From this, the feeling of despair and loneliness only intensified. You wanted someone, at least someone, to hug you and warm you up. You wanted to feel the affection and warmth that you haven't received for so long. But there was no one. You're all alone. No friends, no relatives... You didn't count on your mother and stepfather. They didn't give a shit about you. They're not your support.

Deciding not to sit in one place, you got up and walked away from this quiet place.

There was almost no one on the street, but still rarely anyone passed. No one even thought about why a teenager walks all alone at this time of day. You saw only complete indifference in their faces. Well, that's for the best...

Approaching a long pedestrian crossing, you looked around. There was no one and nothing. No people, no cars. Only buildings and street lamps, the golden and warm light of which dispersed the night darkness. You stopped, then looked at the zebra. Smooth white stripes led to the other side, which was pretty far away.

"I wish the car would drive by now..." You whispered.

But the sound of music and the high beam of headlights caught your attention. But still wishes come true...

K'Sante drove along a completely empty road and shook his head to the beat of the music that was playing at full volume in the car. It's true that a night trip by car around the city helps to relax very well and get all the bad things out of your head. That's exactly what K'Sante was doing now - rushing along an empty road and not thinking about anything, only the music guided him.

With every turn, he recalled how, as a teenager, he once stole someone's cheap car with his old classmates in order to just have fun at the most beautiful time of the day - at night. He recalled how the police caught them, after all, and they went to the police station. And he remembered how he got a lot from his parents. Then he was too young and stupid to realize his mistake, but now he remembered it all with a laugh.

"God, how stupid I was then."

Turning the next corner, the vocalist drove out onto a long and wide road. It was empty here, too. Without slowing down, K'Sante continued, like a racer, to rush along the track. It's so good when there are no cars and people. Complete freedom. And there is no chance that someone will cross the road. After all, everyone has been asleep for a long time. What could possibly go wrong?

And then, abruptly and unexpectedly, like a wild forest animal, a person jumped out onto the roadway. The headlights illuminated their figure, but because of such a surprise, K'Sante could not figure out who it was. Shouting out in fright, the guy abruptly pressed the brakes in order to slow down and stop, but it was too late. Although the speed was reduced, but the collision could not be avoided. The person hit their head on the hood of the car and fell to the ground.

"No, not that!"

Opening the door and exiting the car, K'Sante ran up to the fallen person and squatted down in front of them. It was a teenage girl of sixteen. She was lying on the ground completely motionless, which made the guy panic. He began to frantically feel the fragile body in search of injuries. He didn't find any blood or anything else. He put his fingers to her neck and checked her pulse and breathing. Everything is fine. Panic instantly receded.

"Oh, my God... What are you doing here, little one, all alone and without parents?"

Asked K'Sante, but she didn't answer him because she was still unconscious.

The guy was confused. He didn't know what to do. Should he call an ambulance? So no, he didn't find any injuries, and her breathing was normal. Should he call the police? No, he'd be in trouble if they saw that he was the one who hit her. But that wasn't what was bothering him right now. He wondered what she was doing here at all. It's almost half past midnight, and she's walking the streets when everyone has been lying in their beds for a long time and dreaming the seventh dream. This is strange. Very, very strange...

Shaking his head, K'Sante gently picked up the girl in his arms and carried her to the car. Opening the back door, he put the poor girl on the seat, then went back to the driver's seat, not forgetting to close the door. Starting the engine, he drove off and drove back to the shared temporary apartment.

Throughout the journey, he periodically looked in the mirror to make sure that you didn't wake up. There were a lot of questions, but no answers. But nevertheless, he had to help you. And plus, when he examined you, he noticed that you were soaked from head to toe.

Arriving at the building, K'Sante parked and, getting out of the car and taking you out, went inside with you in his arms.

He opened the apartment door with some difficulty, because his hands were busy with you, but he succeeded. Without taking off his shoes, the guy immediately took you to his room, where he laid you on a warm bed. After taking off your jacket, hat and shoes, the vocalist found dried blood on your temple, which scared him seriously. Where did you get such a wound? He had even more questions. After covering you with a blanket, K'Sante looked at you with pity.

"Poor girl... Did you really run away from home? Okay, go to sleep. We'll find out tomorrow..."

After taking one last look at you, the man slowly left the room, leaving you alone. Tomorrow, he and the other guys, along with Alune, should find out what happened to you and how you ended up on the street.

Sett.

The next morning you woke up with aching pain in your back and joints. Sleeping on a bench all night was not a good idea, but how else? You had nowhere to go, it was very dangerous to be at home, so you had no options except to spend the night outside in the cold and alone. With grief in half, you barely got up from the wooden surface and began to stretch your cramped muscles. The crunching of joints seemed to be heard all over the neighborhood. Squinting your eyes and making soft groans, you continued to stretch your limbs. A sense of relief has finally come to you.

After blinking your eyes several times and shaking your head, you headed away from the park. It was early in the morning, but nevertheless, there were people on the street who were going to work or study. But you went neither there nor there. Your goal was completely different.

The morning cold, which now filled the whole air, continued to torment you nonstop. Its prehensile claws ran over your skin through your clothes, making you shiver. Clenching your teeth, you wrapped yourself even more tightly in your father's leather jacket in order to somehow avoid these touches. To some extent it helped, but not very much. In addition to this, people were talking everywhere, which annoyed you a little. You didn't want to be seen like this, much less approached and helped. No, you know what's best for you, and no one will be able to offer you a helping hand. You're on your own.

Deciding to hide from this noise, you headed to the nearest corner, where you could rest and reflect a little. Soon your ears were visited by silence. Exhaling, you leaned back against the wall, looking at the gray sky towering over the houses. That's what you wanted right now. To be completely alone in silence. Last night you couldn't get enough of it to the full, and now such an opportunity has turned up. Loneliness, silence, tranquility. That's what you've wanted for so long.

"Oh, look who we have here!"

That voice... Damn, not that. You knew it too well. Turning your head sharply in the direction of the source of this voice, you mentally groaned. Not those damn bastards. There was a girl standing a few meters away from you, along with several other people. Oh, you'll recognize them anywhere. Your damn classmates.

"Yes, this is our Y/N!" One of the guys who was standing next to your classmate, holding a cigarette between his teeth, said with an insidious grin.

They began to approach you slowly.

"What, you're a bum now, aren't you?"

You ignored them, averting your gaze from their filthy muzzles, which you wanted to turn into a bloody mess. And they continued to be sarcastic.

"Aren't you going to say hello to your friends, Y/N? How rude of you. And in general, what else can you expect from the daughter of drunks?"

And then followed their loud and mocking laughter. It, like worms, penetrated into your ears, causing your whole interior to boil and heat up, like metal that was processed in factories. You wanted to restrain yourself, take control of your words, but your body just wouldn't listen to you. It's as if some force has taken possession of you, forcing you to obey it.

Clenching your teeth and letting out a guttural low growl, you strained.

"Shut up..."

They were taken aback by this. Their eyes widened with incredible shock. It's the first time in a long time that you've responded to their taunts.

"What did you say there?! Say it again!"

"Do you have a hearing problem or did I not make myself clear? I said fuck off, you pathetic bitch..."

"You scum! Guys, teach her a lesson!"

One of them grabbed you by the neck and banged your head against the wall. You cried out loudly in pain. But then you were hit in the side, then in the stomach, where you have bruises from last night. The bruises that hadn't healed still hurt, which made the situation even worse, because it made the pain even more hellish. Another guy grabbed your leg and pulled you towards him, thereby knocking you to the asphalt. A sharp pain in the back of the head immediately made itself felt. Another scream escaped from your throat. Tears were already flowing down your cold skin, mixing with the dirt. They didn't stop beating you up. Each blow tore screams of pain and fear from your lungs that echoed in this place.

"Please don't- AAAAAAH!!!" You desperately begged them, trying to somehow avoid new blows, but they surrounded you, giving no way to retreat.

You screamed, called for help, but no one came. No, that's not how you wanted to end your life, you had other plans!

"Hey, let's have some real fun?"

"Wh... What...?"

One of them leaned towards you, looking straight into your eyes with his crazy gaze. There was a manic smile on his lips that indicated nothing good. The fear turned into a real panic, from which your whole weak body began to shake.

"Don't worry, baby, you'll love it!"

But before you could assimilate his words, you felt him begin to take off your jeans. And only now did you realize what he was going to do to you. You wanted to push him away from you, but two other guys held you by the legs, and two more by the hands, not letting you escape. No, no, you didn't want to experience it for yourself a second time. You've had enough of what happened back at your house, but it was even worse here. There was a whole fucking group of them! You tried to somehow escape, but what could you, a weak girl, do against four guys clearly superior to you in strength? Right, nothing...

"Come on, boys, fuck her properly." Said your classmate, who was standing next to you and smoking a cigarette, sadistically looking down at you. It was as if she was getting wild pleasure from the sight in front of her. However, it was.

Your gaze went back to the guy in front of you. Your jeans have been removed to the level of your ankles, and the fabric of your underwear has been pushed aside, revealing a view of your most intimate place. The guy himself had already pulled down his pants, and when he was ready to torture you in a new way, something happened. Like a bolt from the blue, a familiar voice rang out to you, which attracted the attention of the whole group, including your classmate.

"Hey, punks, come on, quickly leave her alone, otherwise I'll have to teach you a lesson in good manners."

There was a distinct note of menace in the voice. At that moment, all your tormentors took off and, like dogs, scurried away. You were left lying on the asphalt covered in mud. You quickly pulled your jeans back on, ignoring the pain in your hands. Only after that, none other than Sett - rapper of the band HEARTSTEEL ran up to you. He squatted down next to you, looking at you with a worried look.

"Hey, kid, how are you? Didn't they have time to... ehh... touch you?"

"No... But they beat me very badly..." You answered in a hoarse voice, holding your side, where you were hit the hardest.

"What scum they are... Okay, get up."

Getting to his feet, the guy held out his hand to you, and you took it. After that, he helped you up. The pain in your legs made you stagger a little, but fortunately you didn't fall.

"Do you need to call an ambulance?" Sett asked, still looking at you with concern dancing in his eyes.

"No... Not worth it... It's all good..."

"Definitely not worth it?"

You shook your head negatively, putting your hand on the strap of your backpack.

"Why don't I walk you home? It's not safe for you to go alone after that."

"H-Home?... No, I don't want to go back there..."

"Is something wrong? You look worried. No... you... Are you scared?"

Yes, the fear was on your face, and Sett saw it. Something clicked in his head. It looks like things were bad for you at home, since you didn't want to come back.

Sighing and shaking his head, Sett put his arm around your shoulders and led you away from this cursed alley.

"Don't worry, kid, I won't hurt you. Now you're going to go with me to the guys, and then tell me what's going on at your house. We won't hurt you, honestly."

He smiled broadly, then patted you on the head, making you let out a laugh. It was the first time you've laughed in such a long time.

Yone.

A whole hour has passed since the downpour began, and it did not even think to stop. It was getting stronger and stronger by the second, forming huge puddles on the ground. But this did not prevent Yone from enjoying this atmosphere. He walked through the park with an umbrella in his hand and inhaled fresh and moist, cool air into his lungs. Because of his work, he could hardly go out for a walk, and now he had such an opportunity, which he immediately took advantage of. He's wanted this for so long. Take a walk somewhere completely alone and take a break from all this routine fuss. Right now he was doing it. He let his ears take a break from electronic music and immerse themselves in the soothing sound of rain and rustling leaves.

And then something came into his field of vision. More precisely, not something, but someone. In the distance he saw a bench that was different from the others in that it was not empty. Someone was sitting there. It's strange, it's raining very hard outside, and in the park someone is sitting on a bench completely without an umbrella. He decided to take a closer look. After taking a few steps, he stopped. And after that, he was a little stunned.

A young girl of about sixteen was sitting on a wet bench, pressing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She laid her head on them. She wasn't dressed for the weather at all. He kept seeing her shaking all over. There was a backpack next to her. Anyone in Yone's place would have just walked past this poor girl, but he wasn't like that. He couldn't watch this girl getting wet and freezing. He wanted to help her.

He sauntered over to this bench and stood next to the girl.

"It's not good to sit here and get wet. So you can catch a cold."

He said in a calm tone, looking at her. She didn't react in any way, still hiding her face in her knees. This made the producer even more worried.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I just want to help you."

And only after these words, the teenager raised her head. The condition of her face just horrified the man. It was tired, her lips were shaking, and there were dark circles under her eyes. There was pain, despair, hopelessness, helplessness in her eyes... unwillingness to live. It seemed that he saw before him not a young girl, but a martyr who had gone through hell.

"What's wrong with your face?"

You didn't answer.

After examining you again, Yone noticed a small red spot on your temple. Bad thoughts slowly began to creep into his head. Where did you get the dried blood on your temple? Then he looked at the backpack. Okay, it's not funny anymore. The situation is serious. Yone has already begun to guess how you got here. Backpack, your condition, dried blood on your temple and... bruises on your wrists? Yes, he noticed that too.

"Look, I don't know what happened to you or how you got here, but I really want to help you. I can see how bad you feel. Let's do this. You're coming with me. When we get there, you'll wash up, change your clothes, and I'll feed you. Then you will go to bed, and tomorrow you will tell everything that happened to you. Really, I don't want to hurt you. You're young, and you don't have to suffer."

He tried to persuade you several times, and in the end you trusted him. Getting up from the bench and taking the backpack, you went to him. He covered you both with an umbrella and, putting his hand on your shoulder, walked with you to the exit of the park.

"It's all right, child, you can trust me. I won't hurt you."

Continued in the next part...

A/N: I finished it! Thank you for reading it. I really tried...

[modernghostfare]

uhhmm drabble about ghost and mace after soap's death. ao3 link 857 words. here it is on Tumblr tho

Ghost is notorious for changing phone numbers. This wasn't the case originally, when his mother was still alive and needed a way to contact her son easily. That was years ago. Now, Mace keeps the same number, and about once a month he receives a text from Unknown asking if he's too busy to talk. He’s always honest, either ignoring if he is busy or sitting with his phone in hand teasing Ghost for a second before calling.

Today, he gets the text in the middle of the day while he's eating lunch. Mace texts back once, “I'm eating.” Ghost doesn't wait for a back and forth before calling him.

“Oi,” he says as a greeting. He sounds gruff, but he always sounds gruff.

“Hey.”

Mace listens as he inhales and exhales what he can only assume is cigarette smoke. “What're you eating?”

“Rice and lamb.” Mace continues before Ghost can give more than a soft grunt in reply, teeming with need to pick at Ghost for a moment. “You're not too busy with that new guy to talk?”

"He died.” Ghost says. Blunt, even, said like he's eager to get this discussion over with already.

"Oh.”

"Mh.”

"I'm, um,” Mace struggles a bit. He looks at the phone out of the corner of his eyes, keenly aware this conversation could spark an argument quickly. “I'm sorry"

"S'okay, it's not your fault. It's Price's." Ghost sighs, almost immediately. Mace can hear a light clunk as the phone is set beside him. It's silent for a bit before there's a softer sound, and Ghost sounds further away when he speaks again. "I don't mean that."

"Yea," Mace agrees. He knows.

"I was there, too. It's just as much my fault."

Mace can hear it now, the haggard edge to his voice. He's been awake too long, probably, if Mace knows him right. He forgoes reassuring him, instead replies with his tone gentle, "what happened?”

"Just… It was quick. Price was grabbed, Soap was trying to help, he got shot. It did help, but," Ghost pauses. Mace can picture Simon, looking left and right at nothing, eyes unfocused.

"He didn't make it," Mace provides.

The phone is picked back up. Mace can hear as Ghost exhales against the microphone, his voice tense from the latest drag of his cigarette. "Right through his temple."

"Mh," Mace nods though Ghost can't see.

"Quick, at least."

"Did you go to the funeral? Has he had one yet?”

Ghost scoffs. "In my mask?"

"You could take it off,” Mace replies, tone still gentle, still trying to urge him out of this shell of his.

"Fuck. You." Mace can tell he'd brought the phone closer to his mouth. He pulls away again "Gaz and Price went. Gaz said it was nice. They took a bit of his ashes– well, his mom insisted they take some."

"Mh.”

"Had his urn."

"You saw it?"

"We spread them."

"So you did go to his funeral.”

There's a pause and Mace can see Ghost’s eyes rolling in his mind's eye. "Yeah, sure, our own funeral."

“That's nice. That's good,” Mace is genuine, glad Ghost is allowing himself closure this time.

“Sure.”

“It is,” Mace reiterates.

“I literally agreed with you,” he snaps back, already tired of this.

“Okay” Mace says, even and neutral. He stays quiet and Ghost follows suit, passively holding the phone in his hand while he smokes.

“M’still in Scotland.”

“I'm still in Urzikstan.”

“Shame,” Ghost replies.

“Yeah,” Mace agrees. “How long have you been there?”

“Just a night,” Ghost says as he rummages for something. It's all muted to Mace, Ghost’s cheap phone having a cheap microphone. Mace knows he'd say the same for his, so he keeps his phone to his ear, tucked between his head and his shoulder with no complaint.

Ghost stays quiet, huffing and messing with either wrappers or papers in his vicinity. Something plastic. Mace eats his food, only a little too cool now. Neither one of them hangs up, or wants to, despite the stretch of silence going on long enough for Mace to finish the plate, take it and the phone down to the kitchen sink, and go sit outside himself.

“Are you in a room?” he decides to ask, finally.

“Car,” Ghost sounds distant again. Mace can imagine he's set the phone on the dashboard.

“You spend the night there?”

“Yea.”

Bad for your back, Mace thinks fleetingly.

“Don't fuckin’ say anything,” Ghost says, seemingly hearing his thoughts.

“I didn't.”

“Good.”

“I didn't,” Mace laughs, soft and under his breath. “No need.”

Ghost snorts. He fidgets with the phone again before slamming a door and starting the car. Mace can hear the phone get set into a cupholder. “Wanna hang up?” he asks.

“Why? Are you goin’ somewhere?”

“Sounds like you are.”

“I’m just drivin’ back. I’ve got a fuckin’ stand to put my phone in; you’re not hangin’ up.”

“Oh,” Mace replies. Not a cupholder. “You want company while you drive?”

“If it won’t kill you.” Ghost huffs out air.

“Nah, baby,” Mace reassures him, deftly ignoring the bite in his voice. “I’ll be here.”