#again!! tags will be the DEATH of me!!! you're all invited to the funeral!!!

[sincerelyverena]

⟡⁺ VAYA CON DIOS TEASER

. . . OLIVER QUICK X GN!READER ‘i don't know if i'm going to see you again, go with god."

comment (or dm) to be added

to the tag-list<3

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver and you form an unlikely bond over his hatred for the cattons and your thirst for revenge. but when you dance with the devil, you're bound to fall. for satan himself or something far more sinister...

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒graphic implied sex ﹐major character death ﹐strangling (non-sexual) (sorry yall) ﹐ drowning (non-sexual)

i wanted to hold off from giving a snippet of this one-shot so soon but im SO excited to show u guys!!

As predicted, the entire Catton household fell apart after Felix was found. He collapsed on the wooden tiling of the bridge, sprawled out with a mouthful of his puke pooled around his ever-paling silhouette.

It was obvious he suspected. He trusted them anyway and attempted to save himself in the process.

Even though you both were invited to the funeral a couple of days after the fact, the rock-tossing (an off-putting tradition in the Catton family) was regarded as family only.

You sat, only an hour later, bare feet dangling off of the edge of the bridge as Oliver attempted to retrieve each rock from the drafts of the flowing river current.

"Don't fall in and drown, Ollie!" You exclaimed, playfulness irking your tone as you grinned down at him. The sight of Oliver, ass-up, in an attempt to grasp the smooth, memorial rock was a sight to witness indeed.

Oliver turned his head and snapped out of his focused determination to flash you a similar smirk. "I'd have to be bound and gagged for that to happen, sweetheart."

His words caused a particular imagery to pollute your thoughts.

Alas, your plans towards the Catton family and their demise were practically writing themselves. Venetia was becoming heavily depressed by the absence of Felix and Farleigh (whom Oliver framed and resulted in him having to exit Saltburn for good). 

With a few metal blades smuggled into a porcelain bath and a few encouraging words from Ollie, the woman was found bathing in her crimson remains. Funeral. Rock-tossing. Rock-retrieving.

"Be careful the rock doesn't weigh you down, Ollie!"

You continued to tease him as he soon approached you. Oliver's typically straight, combed-over locks of caramel were drenched. The waterdrops highlighted the olive tint of his skin, and you wished desperately to kiss all the droplets away.

Oliver took hold of your waist, pulling you in. A droplet of water splashed against the end of your nose, causing a stray laugh to rise out of you. 

"If I'm goin' down, you're goin' down with me."

Oliver lowered his head, his water-dripping, plump lips placed a long kiss on the end of your nose. The sudden shake of his wet strands caused water to spray all across your face. 

You groaned in protest. You kissed him back anyway.

WORD COUNT: 384 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 3

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 2,037

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, mentions of death and suicide

A/N: Sorry I missed last weekend, I had a funeral to attend but here is a slightly longer part for you. I'm keeping a tag list so let me know if you want in. Requests are also open if you would like to send one in. Enjoy!

<-Previous Part Next Part->

Masterlist of Masterlists

After that day, Bucky spends more time at your apartment. In fact, he spends more time with you in general. He comes to the diner more often and any day you both have free you spend it together. You’ve kicked his ass at all the video games you have, he’s shown you all his favourite spots in New York, including a hole in the wall book shop that you stayed at for hours.  

You were at this very book shop with Bucky when he says, “so, every month at the tower we all try to stick to this family dinner thing.”  

This piques your interest. Bucky doesn’t talk about the others very often. Almost like he doesn’t want to mix you up with his drama. Like he wants to keep you away from the danger of his work. You’ve never pushed him, even though you love the stories he tells of him and Steve back in the 40s. Or the pranks he and Sam play on each other every so often.  

You never push him to talk about things he doesn’t want to because you know you have so much you can’t talk about either.  

You nod to Bucky to show that you’re listening to him, “well, there’s a family dinner tomorrow night and my therapist thinks it would be a good idea to invite you...not that I don’t want you to be there or didn’t want to ask you myself. I want you with me all the time, but I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos of everyone or Tony Stark or Natasha or Sam. Actually, you know what? Forget I said anything, this was stupid-”  

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “Bucky, I’d love to go with you.”  

Bucky spins around fast, dropping the book he was holding, “you would?”  

You chuckle, picking up the book and handing it back to the idiot in front of you, “they’re your family. Plus, it would be nice to have dinner at yours for a change.”  

Bucky breaks out into a grin, grabbing you in a bear hug and twirling you around. When he sets you down, he says, “look, I have to go but I’ll pick you up around 7?”  

You nod as he races out the door to get to his therapy appointment on time, laughing as he practically skips out the door like a little kid.  

Tomorrow comes around faster than you would have liked. You feel like you’ve had no time to prepare for this dinner. You’re meeting Bucky’s family; it feels so important, and you don’t want to mess anything up.  

You still haven’t heard anything from Andrew which is a miracle and if it keeps going like this you might get to build a life here. A life that you hope involves Bucky for a long time to come. But it won’t if you mess this up tonight.  

Staring into the mirror you can see the bags under your eyes from another sleepless night. The nightmares now involving Bucky and being ripped away from this life that you’re starting to love. It always wakes you up feeling breathless and hopeless because there’s a part of you that knows Andrew will come one day and you’ll just have to leave.  

Are you being cruel? To you and to Bucky? Making you both feel so deeply for each other when you know at any moment it could fall like a house of cards? And what exactly do you feel for the man? You swore to yourself that would never get involved romantically again but with Bucky do you have a choice? Can you just be friends with someone that feels like your other half?  

Just then you hear a knock at the door, distracting you from your thoughts. You rush to the door thinking it’s Bucky coming to pick you up but when you open up your smile fades.  

A delivery man is holding a bunch of red roses, thrusting them into your hand as soon as he sees you. Your blood runs cold. You stand, staring at the flowers like they may bite you at any moment.  

When you tear your gaze away from them the delivery man is nearly at the elevator already, “hey! Wait, I didn’t see a card with them?”  

He always leaves a card. This can’t be him because he always leaves a card. The delivery man shrugs, “the guy didn’t want a card.”  

You hear the elevator ding like background noise. Your whole world comes back to the roses in your hand. Andrew picks a different flower every time so there’s no way to know and the delivery man said it was a guy that ordered the flowers. He knows. Andrew knows.  

You drop the flowers like they burn you and race into the apartment. Fight or flight kicks in and you know the dance by now. Heading straight to your room at the back of the closet is your go back. Savings you’ve put away from your job, a couple of old family photos and a passport.  

You promised yourself that if New York did not work, you would try a different country altogether, hoping he would never go that far just to teach you a lesson.  

You reach the open plan kitchen just as Bucky runs through the door looking frantic. His eyes land on you but you don’t have time to stop as you throw more supplies into your go bag.  

Bucky says, “I saw the door open and the flowers on the floor, I thought...I thought-Are you leaving?” 

You turn to look at him when you sense the feeling of betrayal behind his words. Words get caught in your throat, so you don’t say anything. You were barely holding it together before Bucky got here, but now it seems almost impossible to go with him watching. Almost.  

“I know you may not like the flowers, but this is a little extreme, right?” He goes for humour but even you can tell its strained.  

And then his meaning penetrates the fog in your brain, “you? You got the flowers?”  

Bucky shrugs, “they were supposed to arrive yesterday after you said you’d come to family dinner, but I ordered them too late, so I was hoping to beat them here and give them to you myself but well...” 

He trails off and your shoulders sag. Bucky got the flowers. The flowers were from Bucky. The go bag slips from your grip, hitting the floor with a thud, drawing Bucky’s attention once again.  

“Why? Who did you think they were from?”  

You don’t answer. How can you? The answer is so much more complicated than just a name and yet at the same time it isn’t.  

A lump forms in your throat. You want to tell him. You want so much to let someone else carry this burden with you but every time you told someone your story, they either sided with the monster or ended up dead because of him. Because of you. And you would walk away before you saw anything happen to the man standing in front of you.  

Bucky shakes his head. Walking over to pick up the flowers, he lays them on the kitchen table, “I can’t do this. I can’t be here if it means that you might leave at any moment. I’ve been left behind before and I barely made it out alive. I can’t go through that again.”  

And your heart aches. It aches so much that you don’t know how you remain standing as you watch the only person that’s ever made you feel safe start to walk out the door.  

If you were less selfish, you would let Bucky walk out that door and never come back. You would leave him behind and leave New York. You would be miserable just to keep him safe. But you can’t. And you don’t.  

“The first time he hit me, it was our honeymoon.”  

Bucky stops dead. He doesn’t turn around, but you take it as your cue to keep talking, “this guy at a bar flirted with me. He gave me his best pick up line, I laughed and told him I was flattered but I was married, and the guy left me alone. Andrew, my husband, saw and challenged me on it in our hotel room. 

I laughed and told him to stop being silly and that I had seen him flirt with other women before too. It was the first and last time he hit me with an open palm. I made excuses for him. I didn’t want to admit that I cut all my friends and family off for a monster. He was all I had left. But after a few years, when he was dishonourably discharged from the Army, I spoke to his closest friend, Tommy. Tommy was a good man. I showed him the bruises and he believed me. After all these years, he was the only person to believe me.  

Tommy had sensed a change in Andrew, he became less bothered about hiding his temper when the Army chewed him up and spat him out. Tommy confronted him. A week later, Tommy went missing. Three months after that his body was found in the woods. Suicide they said.”  

Bucky finally turns to face you, his eyes swimming with anger and pain so much like your own that you have to look away. You stare at your hands instead, “after Tommy was gone, Andrew got worse. I was going to the hospital at least once a month and everyone believed all the lies. It got so bad that I once went to the police. They called Andrew and he told them that I wasn’t doing very well, and they believed him. After that incident I ended up in the hospital for six weeks. He told them I fell from the roof.”  

Bucky lets out a string of curse words that have you smiling despite the circumstances, “How did you get away?” 

“I got a job. In secret of course. I arranged it so I would only work when he did, and I worked in the next town over. I saved and saved and saved. And then one night I put sleeping pills in with his food. Once I was sure he was asleep, I took the car and left in the middle of the night. I ditched it the next morning and walked to a bus station.”  

“But he still finds you?” Bucky asks.  

You nod, “I haven’t been able to stay in a place longer than two months before he sends flowers and a card to wherever I’m staying at the time. It’s almost like he’s enjoying playing cat and mouse. He’s letting the game go on because I know the moment he catches me this time, I’ll be dead.”  

Bucky takes a step towards you, “no. I’m not going to let that happen.”  

“Tommy said the same thing.”  

“Yeah, well, Tommy wasn’t a super soldier.”  

“But he was a soldier.”  

Bucky shakes his head, “it's been longer than two months. Maybe he’s given up. Found someone else or got what’s coming to him from someone else.”  

“Maybe”, you whisper.  

Bucky closes the distance between you, pulling you into the warmth of his body, holding you like it's a miracle you’re still standing, “you can’t keep running. I won’t let you. Why should you have to run because that waste of oxygen can’t keep his hands to himself?”  

You don’t have an answer, so you just cling to him tighter. Bucky pulls back to look down at you, “promise me, you’ll come to me first. Come to me before you run.”  

You shake your head, “that’s just your way of asking me to stay.”  

“So, what if it is? I deal with bad people and monsters all the time. Let me help you with yours? Come to me first, please?”  

And despite your better judgement, despite all the promises you made to yourself, you tell Bucky yes. You tell him that you’ll stay. You just hope you’re not sealing both of your fates because of it.  

Tags: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg

[bronzefuryfic]

Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Thank you for the tag @selfproclaimedunicorn !! I am once again bending the rules a little bit because I thought this was fun but not feeling ready to share my non-fandom work here. SO! First line of each Bronze Fury is what I'm opting for instead :D

Runestone Remembers

Since she was a child, Rhae Targaryen bore the weight of vengeance for a house wronged.

To King's Landing

It was a full month of bedrest and recovery before the Maesters would allow Rhae to make the journey to King's Landing.

The Queen's Quest

After Helaena delivered Rhae to her room, it did not take long for her to unpack her things.

The Crown's Crimes

The next morning, Rhae awoke with a new purpose.

Princess of the Bugs

Their lessons ended, and the boys were ushered to the training yards.

The Dragon's Pit

"Getting a bit late, isn't it?"

The Pink Dread

"Again!"

Bastards and Betrothals

The training yard was alive with activity when Rhae returned later that afternoon.

Death of the Dreamers

Aemond?

Changing Tides

"That's it then? You're just going to give up?"

The Funeral

"You reckon this is what it's like on Dragonstone?"

Okay going into this I already kind of had an idea of what the pattern might be and laying it all out confirmed my theory! Deciding on where to open each chapter is often the hardest part for me, and as I suspected most of the opening lines are thus very short, just to get the ball rolling on the actual scene. The second line/ paragraph of each chapter is typically a little more descriptive. I am also growing increasingly partial to opening each chapter in the start/middle of a conversation- writing dialogue is my favorite and so I think it tracks that I'd use that as a starting point wherever I can. The earliest chapters also largely start with transitory sentences, which are a little boring but kind of unavoidable given Chapters 2-6 are pretty continuous scenes over the course of 2 days at the castle.

I believe everyone I know that writes has already been tagged, but if you haven't yet and would like to try, consider this your invitation!

[totiredtowrite]

"Ｔｈｅ Ｇｒａｖｅ Ｄｉｇｇｅｒ"

Warnings - Talks of death, blood

Note: plot didn't agree with me ig, if it sucks deal with it 🙄

FEM READERS DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

/��͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

There were only two people in this town who nobody seemed to see. Whether it be by their own choice or public displeasure, they hardly showed their faces. Town hall meetings, events, the occasional festival, never. Unsurprisingly, the two men who never showed up both worked with the dead.

The executioner, and the undertaker.

Matsukawa Issei, the undertaker, wasn't commonly known by his name. Or even his title, for that matter. Somewhere along the line he'd earned the nickname of 'The Grave Digger.'

He knew why, of course. Everyone knew why. The only time the bulk of the townsfolk saw him was when he was out digging graves at the edge of town. For those who lived near to the graveyard, it was a rather common sight.

Just as dusk fell they would see him out in the field, rusted copper spade in hand as he shoveled up dirt. Typically there was a body wrapped in linen laying somewhere near him, and on the nights where they weren't the people knew he would be back the next night with one.

At first, he'd struggled quite a bit.

Digging human sized holed in the ground, six feet deep, wasn't easy work by any means. Especially not for one man. At nineteen was when he'd started his work. If he wasn't well built before, he certainly was now. If it was possible, he was sure that his shovel would have dents in it from where he clutches it. It was his own little cycle. He obtained the body, he prepped it, (if the family could afford a funeral), he dug, he buried.

Only the reverend and the grifter who hung around these parts really had any continued conversation with him. Even still, he and the reverend had limited conversation. Their talks were short, concise, formal. And, even more so, that was only when a family could pay for a funeral and wanted it in the church.

Naturally that left little to no opportunity for relationships.

Though, it wasn't like people didn't want him. Unlike the executioner, people vied for his attention. The few times he goes into town, he can feel eyes on him. Women and men alike. The grave digger has earned the tag of 'tall, dark, and handsome.'

He sighed heavily, dropping his spade by the door of his home. He never liked burying children. He had two today, twins. It always made him feel remorseful. Like they could have done so much. All he really wanted to to was stare at the ceiling in the company of his phonograph.

It didn't help his mood that the grave robber situation was spiraling. Some sicko was taking bones from graves, keeping them. Maybe he was selling them. Issei opened the door, turning his back to the main room to close it. He let his head fall against the oak. He relished in the silence, though something didn't feel right.

He narrowed his eyes to the door, slowly taking his hand of the handle and turning around when–

"It's honestly about time. What was that six hours? You usually take less."

He stopped, eyes wide in your direction.

The shock prevented him from really saying or doing anything, so you took that as an invitation to continue. "Anyways, nice place! This is the first time I've actually seen the inside," you laughed a bit. From where you were sat, Matsukawa could make out a few things.

A shovel sat by your side, one similar to his. Similar, except it was very clearly made of silver. You were seated on a desk against the far wall, directly across from where he stood. Your legs, one crossed over the other, were clad in dirtied work pants. His expression turned defensive at the realization that there were little splatters of blood near your boot.

"Though you did have to bury kids today huh?" You continued. "I get it. S'not fun digging them up either." You sighed dramatically.

Your remark killed any words I'm previously in his throat. The grave robber.

His face quickly morphed into something threatening, something that most people would run far away from. "You're the–"

"Yep!" You didn't let him finish, pulling up a wanted poster from god knows where. There was no face on it, just a black silhouette with a white question mark in the head. "This is what you meant right? You're absolutely correct."

He moved to advance. "What the hell are you doing in my home," he snarled.

You held up a hand. "Woah there, tiger. You know these things can seriously hurt someone, right?" You tilted your head to the shovel at your side. Matsukawa stopped in his tracks, though his deadly glare didn't falter.

"Look," you sighed, "Can we please get off on the right foot? I'm (l/n) (y/n), the man who's been digging up bodies. Well, parts of bodies. It honestly depends on the price," you giggled. "I know exactly who you are, but why don't you tell me anyways?"

No words left his throat. Well, none that were very nice anyways.

"Right," you rolled your eyes at the obscenities that left his mouth in the place of his name. "But I'm not here to fight." You slid off of the table in a rather smooth manner, sweeping up the shovel at the same time. "In fact, I'm here to help!"

Matsukawa's lips pursed in thought. He should turn you right in to the sheriff. Yet, some part of him wanted to hear what you had to say. After all, if he didn't like it, you've simply engineered your own arrest. He didn't say another word, harshly grabbing your shoulders and steering you towards the small dining table. "Sit." he said gruffly, not giving you a chance to respond before he practically threw you into the chair.

Taking the seat across from you, his eyes locked on you expectantly. You took that as a sign to speak. "Ha, anyways, the other day I found this," you set a femur on the table. Matsukawa cringed slightly. Not because he was nervous by it, but because where did you even have that? "This belongs to a man that's easily six feet tall."

Matsukawa nodded. "And?"

"And," you scoffed, "I found it in the grave of a woman. A woman who was no more than five feet." Matsukawa decided to ignore how weird this conversation was getting. "Unless you're just really bad at your job, these bones aren't matching up. Not to mention the woman I dug up the other day," you let out a breathy laugh. "Can you believe it? Her jaw was far too large."

He shuddered, declaring to himself that he had a psychopath sat at his table.

"Anyways, handsome," you have him a predatory grin, "Wanna entertain me for a bit? Just how do you think those bones are being misplaced? It's messing with my business, you know. Making me less credible."

"Business? What business?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Y'know, grave robbing? You think I just keep the bones I take? The bodies?" You laughed. "Gross, no. I sell them. Shady medical students who wanna get ahead, witches, people who do extremely innocent things with dead bodies." Matsukawa cringed again.

"I should turn you in," he said. He stood up to lean over the table, slamming his hands down right in front of you, eyes angled down his nose.

You, unfazed by this, shrugged. "If you turned me in, you'd get the money, but you'd never know what's going on with the bones switching place."

He let out a muted frustrated noise. "Come on," you tilted your head to let the candlelight illuminate your eyes, "What's the worst that could happen?"

~

Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.

[cleem123]

Hey! Your Kevin x Joaquin fics are to die for! Not sure if you're taking requests right now, but if you are, could you do one where Kev and Joaquin are just walking around aimlessly together, then Kevin realised they're at the place where he found Jason and the memories come back and he panics and Joaquin just holds him and calms him down? And it's just suuuuper fluffy? Thanks a bunch! And if you end up writing this, may I please be tagged? Thank you! xxx

Sweet Water River

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Starts out angsty, ends up fluffy

Warnings: graphic descriptions of death, alcoholism, panic attacks, guns, a lot of talk about death, like alot

Read it on AO3

Note: I strayed slightly from the prompt, apologies I hope you still like it. All of Joaquin’s backstory is my headcannon. If you haven’t read my other fics, Sebastian (a.k.a. Bas or Bastian) is Joaquin’s older brother. Also I forgot how old Joaquin was so he is seventeen in this.

Kevin had really thought that he could dothis. He didn’t think that it would affect him this much. Why was it affectinghim this much? He was walking hand in hand with his beautiful boyfriendalongside the bubbling river, and he knew that he shouldn’t be thinking aboutJason. It was impossible no to though. All he could picture was the boy’s deadeyes, the hole in his head, the way his skin had somehow grown even paler withdeath, the way the water had darken his hair, making in red like blood. Kevinhad never really liked Jason, but seeing someone who had once been so full oflife and spirit, he was captain of the football team for god sakes, seeingsomeone that vibrant be completely washed out, all signs of humanity rippedaway. Kevin couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. He didn’t realize that he wascrying until Joaquin’s thumbs were on his cheeks, brushing the tears away.

“Hey hey.” Joaquin comforted, pullingKevin to come sit down on a nearby rock. The river rose just enough to covertheir toes. “What’s wrong, Kev?” Kevin just shook his head, mind still reelingwith the memory of tripping over the dead boy. “Kevin. Kev, I need you tobreath.” Joaquin tried not to let Kevin see just how nervous he was. “Breathwith me baby.” Joaquin took a deep breath, slowly letting Kevin match his pace.He gently rubbed his hands up and down Kevin’s arms, trying to calm the otherboy.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”Kevin responded as soon as his breathing evened out. He could still feel hisheart beat racing, as if his heart was trying to escape his body. He felt likeshit. Why couldn’t he keep it together? He had seen dead people before, his dadwas the goddamn sheriff. He saw crime scene photos in his dad’s office all thetime. He could vividly remember his mom’s funeral; he remembered how she lookedall made up and calm in the silk lined coffin. Her eyes were closed, though.Jason’s had been open. Kevin had looked into Jason Blossom’s dead eyes. He hadstood beside Sweet Water River, just looking into those eyes while Moose calledKevin’s dad. “His eyes were so lonely Joaquin. How could someone dead look solonely?” Kevin finally looked up from his trembling hands to make eye contactwith Joaquin.

“I don’t know Kev, I really don’t know.”Joaquin ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide if he was ready to sharethis with Kevin. He took a deep breath, “I want to tell you about my family.”Joaquin mumbled, taking Kevin’s large hand in his smaller one. “But I think weshould probably get out of here first.” Kevin nodded, standing up and wrappinghis arm around Joaquin’s waist before beginning the walk back to Kevin’s dad’struck.

Joaquin didn’t let go of Kevin’s hand. Notwhile he was driving them back to the Keller residence, not when they madetheir way up to Kevin’s room, not when Kevin gently kissed him and pulled himonto the bed. Joaquin didn’t know if he would ever let go of Kevin’s hand.

Kevin almost had another panic attack asthey walked back to the truck, but he didn’t. Joaquin’s hand was firm in his,grounding him and keeping him present. He was sure that Joaquin was justhumoring him, not letting go of his hand, but Kevin couldn’t describe howimportant it was to him. He needed this. He needed Joaquin because his heartbeat was still racing. It didn’t calm down until he was lying in his room, surroundedby familiar sights and breathing in Joaquin’s familiar scent.

Kevin and Joaquin were lying on theirsides, facing each other. Kevin kept leaning in to brush his lips againstJoaquin’s, a ghost of a kiss. He found it reassuring, feeling the warmth of Joaquin’slips under his. He could feel the serpent’s heart beat where their chest werepressed together. When he looked into Joaquin’s eyes, they were full of liveand passion and, love? Kevin wasn’t sure. Was it too early for love?

“Kev, can I tell you about my parents?”Joaquin whispered, avoiding eye contact with the taller man. Joaquin didn’tknow why it was so important for him to tell Kevin about this. Maybe he thoughtit would calm Kevin down. Maybe help Kevin realize that Joaquin really didunderstand what he was going through. Cause Joaquin knew exactly what Kevin hadmeant when he had said that Jason’s eyes were lonely.

Kevin sucked in his breath. He didn’t knowif he was ready to hear about this, but he wanted to be there for Joaquin thesame way Joaquin had been there for him. “Absolutely.”

“I read somewhere that, after the age ofseven, our brains delete most of our memories from early childhood. But mybrain must have malfunctioned or something, cause every night, for thirteen years, I remember myparents.” Joaquin paused, closing his eyes and gripping tighter on Kevin’shand. “I was four when they died, and Bas tells me that I’m making it up, thatI’m remembering it all with rose colored glasses or something. I don’t think he’sever gotten over it.” Joaquin paused again and Kevin opened his mouth tocomfort him, to tell him that he understood, but Joaquin interrupted him. “Kev.If you start talking I don’t think I’ll get through this.” Kevin just nodded,resting his forehead against Joaquin’s and closing his eyes, inviting the boyto continue.

“Sebastian and I were in the car when myparents died. My dad was drunk, Sebastian says he can’t remember our dad everbeing sober. But my mom. My mom was trying to calm him down, trying to get himto stop yelling and to pay attention to the road. I remember her last words.How fucked up is that?” He laughed angrily. “I’m seventeen and I remember my mom’slast words. She said ‘Honey, calm down. You’re scaring the children.’ And hesaid ‘Why do you think I give a rat’s ass about the children?’ And then we hitthe black ice, and the car spun off the road. Bastian was only 14, he didn’tknow what the hell to do, so we just sat in the car until 911 showed up. I rememberlooking at my mom, blood dripping down her forehead and just knowing that Iwould never forget the look in her eyes. She look so sad and lonely.” It was Kevin’sturn to bring his thumbs up to wipe away tears. He pressed a kiss to both ofJoaquin’s cheeks, as if to erase the tear trails. Joaquin’s breath shook. “Kev,I want you to feel comfortable around me, okay? I need you to tell me if youaren’t okay with something.” Joaquin finished, trying to let Kevin know thatthey never had to go back to Sweet Water River again. Kevin smiled at him.

“I do feel comfortable around you Joaquin.I just, I thought I could do it.” He shrugged, “I was wrong. I just keptpicturing him, wondering how he must have felt in those last seconds, facing downthe barrel of a gun and just knowing that this was the end. That you were aboutto die.” Kevin’s breath had begun to accelerate again.

“Kev, calm down. Breathe okay, in and out.In and out.” Joaquin traced calming patterns on Kevin’s hand. Kevin slowed hisheart rate, but looked at Joaquin inquisitorially.

“How do you know how to deal with…whatever these things are?”

Joaquin sighed, “I told you Sebastian hadnever gotten over it right?” Kevin nodded. “Well, he had panic attackssometimes. I, uh, I had to figure out how to deal with it.” Kevin wasincredulous.

“Joaquin, you’re seventeen.”

“Well observed preppy” Joaquin chuckled.

“Shut up,” Kevin hit his shoulder, “Imean, you shouldn’t have to deal with this kinda stuff. You’re still a kid.”Joaquin smiled sadly.

“So are you. But you know what your mom’slast words were too. And you can’t go to the river cause of a dead kid.”Joaquin seemed to realize something, “We live in Riverdale Kev, we are asnormal as kids get in this town.” He smiled, his hand was still in Kevin’s, andhe used it to pull the taller boy impossibly closer to him, connecting theirlips.

Kevin sighed, deepening the kiss andforgetting about the shit they had been through. He was happy to just be withhis boyfriend. To kiss his boyfriend and hold his hand and know that nothingcould ruin this. This was his and this was perfect. He threw his leg overJoaquin’s, straddling the boy and furthering the kiss. He finally releasedJoaquin’s hand, bringing his up to slide under Joaquin’s shirt. Joaquinwhimpered into Kevin’s mouth.

Kevin pulled away, smirking.

“I love you.” He admitted, biting his lip.Joaquin smiled, before flipping them so he was on top, straddling Kevin.

“I love you too, preppy. Now shut up andlet me kiss you.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Kevin giggled andrelaxed under Joaquin’s lips.

Should I start putting these under a cut? I think maybe I should. Some of them are pretty long. 

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