#but even with the tags blocked it's everywhere

[take-it-on-the-run]

The End

Wally Clark x Reader

Two people died on September 23rd, 1983. One laid out on a football field before hundreds of people, and the other left behind on the cold floor of the boy's locker room.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Sexual assault, semi-graphic depictions of SA, including: almost direct aftermath, reader is naked in the beginning, mentions of blood, and implied loss of virginity via SA, flashback to SA; death, reader's death is overlooked, ANGST

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC)

Read it on AO3!

A/N: The Doors title. Hey ya'll. I cannot believe the love I've been getting on this page, and it's driving me past my writer's block more than anything. With school starting, I can feel the academic anxiety kicking in, but I use my writing as a coping method when I can. This story has very intense topics (as stated in the tags) and is not meant to idealize any topics in any way. This was inspired by @general-fanfiction's Hopes and Fears series (GO READ IT RN), and @whoopsyeahokay's October Sun series (ALSO GO READ IT RN). If this story is well received, or I just feel the urge to, I'll probably turn it into a series (bc this sucks as a one-shot). As always, please heed the warnings, and read only if you're comfortable.

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood was everywhere.

It slid down your legs and dribbled onto the cold floor of the locker room. Every inch of your skin felt like it was too tight for your bones, and all you wanted to do was reach down your throat and rip out your heart.

Copper flooded your mouth. The tang brushed against the back of your chattering teeth, and all you could think about was how you wanted to crawl to the nearby shower and let it run until one of the coaches found you and dragged you out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Move. You told yourself. All of your limbs ached. Nothing felt real.

You didn’t want this to be real.

It was supposed to be kind. Gentle. An act out of pure love.

Standing up proved to be hard, and it was like no one was able to hear you screaming out for help. Filtered out by the people flooding the halls, hustling to the big homecoming game going on that night.

The tiled walls provided little help as you brought yourself to a standing position, walking slowly as you felt your feet brush against the pile of your shoes, pants, and underwear on the floor. The touch stopped your heart, breaking a new tier of hate and regret across your body.

He said he loved me.

You turned on the shower, cranking the knob to the hottest setting, knowing that the water wouldn’t get anywhere near warm. Water slid harshly over your body, and you felt it pelt against spots of dried blood on your thighs.

You wished you never come to this stupid football game.

You wished you weren’t as ignorant, or as gullible, or as love-blind as you had been in the past three months.

You wished you never met him.

His face felt bitter and sharp in your head, poking and prodding, as if trying to stick the memory of his hands on you for eternity.

Time passed irregularly, no one came in or out of the locker room, and you were sure that the football game had to have reached its end by all of the cheering and yelling you heard outside.

After using all of the hot water in the gym wing, you slowly walked to the lines of lockers, trying even glimpsing in the direction of your clothes. tried to open every locker until one popped open, revealing a pair of grey sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a muscle tank, blue gym shorts, and a matching varsity jacket with #57 stitched on the arm.

You grabbed the matching sweatsuit, balling it in your arms and silently apologizing to the boy you’d never return the clothing to.

He probably won’t even notice, you told yourself.

You turned the corner around a line of lockers and you could swear you were going crazy. A bare foot poked out from behind the last line of lockers, limply tilted against your pile of clothes, painted a chipped wine red.

You blinked hard, looking down at your own chipped wine-red toes, and you clutched the clothing you stole to your naked body. The cotton was soft compared to the cold tile bracing against your feet, and you brought your eyes to look back to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Bile pooled at the back of your mouth as you hesitantly stepped closer to the foot that hadn’t disappeared. You’re going crazy, you told yourself, but the more and more you stared at the limp, pale body - your limp, pale body - whose features were more of a brutal mass than a face, the less it was going away.

You barely made it past the urinals and into an open stall before you dry-heaved into a toilet.

You were dead.

You couldn’t be.

As you zipped up the stolen hoodie and sweatpants, you tried to remember it all. Kissing under the bleachers before the game, him asking you to come with him while he grabbed something from his gym locker.

Every agonizing second you asked him to stop, to stop pressing you into the lockers because one of the locks was digging into your back; his decrepit hands sliding at your waistline, pushing and prodding past the fabric of your clothes.

Nothing would come up from your stomach.

Could ghosts vomit? You asked yourself, slowly standing to your feet and walking back over to your dead body.

Conversations started to flood the hallway, every muscle in your body coming briefly to attention before you flew out the door and screamed into the rushing crowd of students.

“Hello?” You called out, reaching your arm into the crowd, only to watch it get run through like something out of Star Wars.

Your body became hot, and even though you knew deep down that no one could see you, you pushed your tears back down your choking throat and felt your cheeks heat up with shame.

You walked into the crowd, who was thinning out the further you got from the hallway. Your body tensed for a moment, seeing the lights of police cars and ambulances pulling up to the school. Expecting to see the paramedics rushing toward your body, you waited for them to split the crowd, to start heading toward the school, but they were bolting the other way.

Straight toward the football field.

This school has to be fucking cursed.

One of the players was splayed out on the field, his head gently being lifted as paramedics were tugging his helmet off his head. The football team from whatever school yours was playing against was sitting on the bench, whispering and pointing to another one of their players who was talking to a police officer further down the field.

57.

The number sewn on the jacket hanging among the clothes you stole stood out against the dark blue of the player’s helmet. People gasped and a woman cried out as the paramedic set the helmet aside, revealing the face of the school’s resident golden boy; a dark bruise crawled up his neck, and his mouth guard slid between his lips as his limp head hung unnaturally over his shoulder.

You walked closer, straight through the forming line of police officers, and looked into the field. At the edge of the bleachers, waving his arms around and yelling into a silent group of people, stood Wally Clark.

Wally Clark is dead.

Just like I am.

You took off running, the activity coming easier to you when you were alive.

Alive.

“Wally!” You called out, and the football player snapped his body to your voice, his eyes wide and seeming relieved that someone was talking to him.

You stopped, resting your hands on your hips as he hopped down from the bleachers.

“What’s happening? Why- why is no one talking to me? What did I do?” He asked, skipping the formalities. He came to stand on the field before you, the football gear he was wearing sending a rush of debilitating shame through your body.

You faltered for a moment, his face flashing in your eyes before you rubbed your face back to reality.

“You didn’t do anything, Wally.” You managed to push out, pushing your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Then what is happening? I feel like I’m going crazy, one minute I’m running with the ball, and boom- I’m at the bleachers, trying to get my mother to talk to me and she won’t even look up at me. I know she’s pissed at me about going on the bench, but I mean I got back in the game, and now I’m guessing coach is pissed at me on insisting to get back in and-”

“You’re dead.” You cut off his rambling, forcing yourself to meet his face without looking away after a second, “I mean, I think we’re both dead.”

First, he smiled. Like what you said was some kind of joke. After you said nothing, he started toward the sidewalk, where his mother was now alongside a stretcher being lifted into an ambulance. You could see the tears on her face from where you were, each step you followed Wally, the easier it was to see her sorrow.

Then, as he was following his mother, he suddenly was gone, like he was plucked off the Earth by God himself.

That was until you turned to see him standing on the football field, right where his body was previously lying, tugging at the roots of his hair.

You hovered your foot, leveraging that if you stood on the sidewalk, you would be slingshotted back to the men’s locker room.

You decided to trust your gut and instead talked to Wally.

“I can’t be dead, I mean, that would mean you’re dead, and I literally saw you in the hallway this morning,” Wally said as he paced in a small area before you, “and I know for sure that I saw you because you were hanging around Dalton’s locker, which was weird because everyone on the team thought he had some college girl or something he was hanging out with-”

You didn’t register some of the words he was saying, instead you tried to control your thoughts from ripping you back to your last moments on earth at his name.

“-I mean, do you even know how crazy this sounds?”

You took in a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your face to poorly conceal any emotions that unwillingly spread onto your features, “Yeah, but that’s the thing, Wally. I am dead.”

Saying you were dead for the first time out loud was a lot heavier than you thought it would be.

You’re pretty sure that if the insanity of Wally being killed hadn’t overridden your brain, you would be somewhere huddled up and screaming for some greater power to give you eternal rest.

“What? That’s not possible, I mean, the people you were here with would’ve noticed you were gone. Dalton would’ve noticed you were gone.”

You didn’t want to give his name as much power as you did, but your body tightened up hearing it. You didn’t correct him, instead opting to stare at the dark woods on the far end of the field, your eyes burning once more.

“Y/N,” you were a little surprised that he knew your name, and even more when he stood in front of you with the most gentle expression you’d ever seen, “what happened after school? How did you die?”

[tallyica]

Uh Dave x reader. Dave wants reader but unfortunately reader is already dating (any member from Metallica) so when reader broke up with (Metallica member) for some reason, he started talking to reader and eventually ended up together. reader is way happier with Dave.

(Kinda basic but I know you’ll make it great 😍)

hihi!!

omg I'm actually posting a very long fic after threatening to quit writing..

also ily Kay this is a good req I LOVE James and Dave dynamic stuff (anything having to do with revenge or jealousy, if youre a writer PLS write some and tag me..) so i loved this req

anywayssss

word count: 4,515 (I think my longest one to date)

warnings: angst, break up, cheating, drinking, fluff, mention of drugs (once), kinda corny, rushed but slow at the same time, way too similar to that one mustainegf fic

A CHANGE, FOR THE BETTER. (1987-1990)

Once again the apartment was cold and empty. It wasn't actually empty; it was filled by James and me. We were on opposite sides of the couch, avoiding each other. IT had been like this for months. We hadn't hugged, kissed, held hands, gone out, anything that normal couples do. He was quiet, which differed from how he was with his friends, including me. Though, this hadn't been different for a while. I've almost gotten used to it, but not emotionally. No matter how hard I try, he seems like he isn't there. The more I thought about it, the more it settled in, the more it hurt. The more I felt I needed to talk about it.

I finally broke the painful and dead silence between us, “What up with you, You've been weird with me for months?” I asked, finally turning my head to face him. He wasn't looking at me, or anything. He was hunched over, his blonde locks blocking the view of his face as he stared at the floor.

James let out a huff in response, shrugging.

This was going to be a long, and very difficult conversation.

James would get like this when there was something on his mind. Something big, but normally it would spill over before this point, he normally would just be like this for a week or two before confessing whatever was hurting him, and I would hold him and comfort him as he cried.

I sighed, moving closer to him, and placing my hand on his back, but he retracted from my touch, something I had gotten used to.

“James, talk to me, please..?” I asked softly, though I was willing to beg to have what we had back.

He just shook his head, adjusting slightly and sitting back, letting me see his stressed and confused expression. “What's bothering you? Tell me, I know that something is wrong..” I tried again, my eyes on his, but his were on the black TV screen.

I tried to move closer to him, my hand on his knee as I tried to get him to even look in my general direction, “James, look at me,” I asked more than commanded.

His eyes wandered in my direction, but landing on the couch cushions under me. It was a start at least. “Can you just say something, please?” I asked again, keeping my tone gentle.

He took a deep, long sigh, mumbling something I couldn't hear, couldn't understand.

Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to.

“What?” I asked, refusing to believe any of this was real as tears stung my eyes.

James just repeated himself, the words falling from his lips like shards of glass.

I shook my head, standing from the couch as the tears began to fall down my face. Knowing of the other woman, I was broken. I was pacing, and he didn't even look at me.

“Are you serious?! Why?! Was I not good enough for you?! We could've talked, we could've worked things out!” I cried, my stomach twisting in a tight and sorrowful knot.

He didn't look like he had any emotions on his face, but I could sense and feel the guilt and pain that clouded him. Every word he spoke only brought more tears to my eyes, each one punctuated with a sharp and sad pain I felt in my heart, eyes, mind, everywhere.

I was trembling as I shook my head, for some reason I refused to believe any of this, or that this was real. I began to waddle towards the kitchen counter, filled with hurt and rage, grabbing my car keys and purse.

“Where are you going?” James asked, his own voice shaky with guilt and regret.

“Away.” I answered harshly, beginning to walk back to the door.

“Please, we can fix this, just.. Just stay with me, ok?” James begged almost, though he wouldnt even stand up to face me, eyeing muy figure from the comfort of the couch. One that held many memories of us.

I shook my head, “No, no, I.. I need to go..” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle and leaving hearing James call out for me as I shut the door, stumbling to my car, getting in and beginning to drive fast and far, no clue where I was headed. It was late at night, probably past ten pm. Tears strung down my face, puddling on the shirt I was wearing, which I realized was James’ shirt. That didn't help, making me sob harder as the faint and musty smell of beer and smoke fumed from his shirt, reminding me of him too much.

After twenty minutes or so of driving, I came past a run down hotel, hearing the soft pitter patter of rain hit the roof of my car, the clouds matching my eyes. I parked, scurrying into the lobby, an older and tired woman at the front desk, noticing the clear sadness that radiated off me.

We had a brief interaction, paying for my room before wandering up to the beat door, the well cleaned room before me.

I stepped in, shutting the door behind me before falling onto the bed, everything hitting me as I began to break down and cry. The man I had once cherished, loved, my everything and world was gone, no longer who I knew. No matter how guilty he felt or regretted it, or how drunk he was, he still did it. It hurt, and it hurt horribly. Someone I poured every ounce of my love and my being into threw me out for some shitty drunken fling with some random slut.

It wasn't long before I cried myself asleep, awaking with a harsh headache, trying to put back together everything that had happened. The words rang in my ears, twisting in me like a punch to the stomach. Instead of sadness, it was just anger and hurt. Tears couldn't come to my eyes, just a cruel, upset feeling I couldn't name.

I laid on that bed for a few hours, the soft hum of electricity filling my ears as I got lost in thought. I had woken up at three pm, and it was now six. I had to get out, do something, talk with someone. Why not go to a bar, get a drink, take the edge off and maybe talk to someone to distract myself.

I went into the bathroom, wiping the black streaks of mascara and other smudged makeup off my face, fixing my hair as much as I could without a brush or any products before checking out and walking back down to my car.

I just drove around, going a bit further out of town on the off chance I may run into James.

Then I saw it, the dark building with a pink neon sign on the outside, not looking too busy on the inside but still a good amount of people. 

I felt I had been here before. Maybe a few years back, maybe a few nights ago.. I wasn't sure, but there was a comforting familiarity as I walked in.

I ordered a drink, sitting at the bar as I picked at my nails, watching the football game on the TV. Not that I cared much for sports, but it was a start for a distraction.

I sat in there for maybe several minutes before my drink was ready, the bartender handing it to me as I began to sip on the bitter liquid, sighing softly as I tried to relax.

I felt a tap on my back, confused and surprised, I turned around.

Then I saw him.

Dave Mustaine, a man I hadn't seen in person for about four years. He was on the rise of the metal world, finally earning his own independent name. Our eyes met, and we instantly recognized each other.

Dave smiled, chuckling to himself, “Where the hell have you been?!” He asked happily, and I forced a smile back.

“I haven't gone anywhere, still been here. Where the hell have you been?” I asked back, hoping this conversation could take me away from this ruin I have been placed in.

He shrugged, “About, just becoming the next big face in the metal scene..” He answered back in a cocky way, as usual.

Seeing him in this bar, made all those old memories flood back. This is where I first met Dave, finally realizing why this place seemed so familiar. James and I had been friends about a year before he formed Metallica, and I remember him asking me to come to this bar with him to go meet his bandmates. I met Lars, Ron, and of course, Dave. 

Dave was still fiery as ever, never changing from his previous self. 

We began to talk, catching up on the years of missed time together, the once strong bond we had slowly reforming.

I remembered the first time I came to one of the band's practices. It was at James’ garage, and Ron and Lars had already left. It was just the three of us, but James was in the house. Dave and I chatted for what felt like hours, and quickly became close and good friends. We had a lot in common, so we got along well.

Then, Dave asked me a question, snapping me out of my thoughts of the past.

“So, how’s things with James? You guys still a couple?” Dave asked, clearly not meaning anything negative, but I felt it.

The question made my stomach twist in a knot, reminding me of the bitter end I had with James last night. I glanced to the floor, my expression shifting from positive to anxious in a way.

Dave quickly took notice of my change in demeanor, his expression softening, “Did.. did something happen? What’s up?” He asked, clearly worried.

I sighed, shrugging. Should I tell him this? Ruin our night together? Force him to feel guilty?

But I didn't want to lie to him either, it would be easier to just rip off the bandaid and move on.

“Uhm, we kinda broke up last night..” I mumbled, staring down at our shoes.

Dave's face was struck with realization, nodding slowly with a solemn expression, “Oh shit, sorry to hear. What happened?” Of course he had to dig deeper. And again, who am I to deny him the truth? He wasn't really one to judge.

“Well.. things had just been rough the last few months.. And then he told me that.. He cheated on me..” I answered with a sigh, feeling a slight weight taken off my shoulders as I acknowledged it, but a fifty pound boulder crashing down on my heart.

Dave looked upset, frustrated even. “I told you that fucker was never any good,” Dave reminded me, which brought me back to the night when James had asked me out.

It was the night of the first Metallica show I got to go to, not having work or anything, and I had to be a supportive best friend. After the show, I went backstage, waiting for the band, when James had ran towards me, grabbing my hands and pulling me into his dressing room, very rushedly confessing to me, which had me smiling wide, as I had felt the same from when we first met, but he had as girlfriend at the time.

It was just us, sharing another happy moment together. No one had known that we were official, but I'm sure someone caught onto his crushing, or mine.

It wasn't just that someone caught on, Dave knew. I told him after a few too many drinks, but of course he remembered that one thing.

After we had come out of that dressing room, I went to go talk with Dave, to tell him that everything seemed to be going perfectly for me at that moment, but then he spoke before I could.

“I don't think you should be around James too much man, he enjoys the life on the road a bit too much, if you get what I mean,”.

It was one of the last things he said to me before he got kicked from the band. After I told him we were dating, we drifted apart, and then he was kicked out.

I hadn't thought of those words until tonight. And it only proved that Dave was right. James did enjoy the drinking, groupies, drugs, all of it. It was only a while until I found out, which I did.

I was snapped back to the present hearing the loud whoops and clapping of other patrons of the bar, who were watching the football game on the TV. I nodded in response to Dave's statement, “I know, you warned me the minute after I started dating him.. Guess you were right..” I admitted, and Dave nodded back.

“It pisses me off, y’know?” He began, “You're too good for that shit, especially from a jerk like him.” Dave added.

I just nodded again, and he kept talking. “I guess he just can never see what he had, always wants ‘better’ but he already has what's best. I mean, he threw me out for that Kirk guy, he's no nowhere as good as me! And I’m sure whoever he slept with is just some whore,” He concluded, and I just nodded again.

“You're right… as always, it seems,” I answered back to him, before my thoughts drowned out the world around me once more.

Dave probably understood this better than anyone, at1 least when it comes to being mistreated and betrayed by James. Someone who he considered a brother, a close friend, kicked him to the curb for someone else. And in similar was me. Someone I considered a lover, and closest friend I had, traded me in for another.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Dave asked, calming after his rant.

“No, not really.. I'm staying at a motel a few miles away,” I answered back, and he thought for a moment before speaking again.

“If you want, you could come stay at my place, I wouldn't mind the extra company, it gets pretty lonely there anyways,” He offered, and my eyes lit up, a small hope in my heart.

“Yeah, that'd be great, thanks,” I said with a small smile, a weight lifted off my shoulders.

“We could leave the bar now and get you set up, it's a one bedroom, I don't mind taking the couch until you've figured something out,” Dave suggested.

I quickly shook my head, “No, don't take the couch, it's your place, I'm the guest! I'll take the couch,” I rebutted.

Dave just nodded, “Exactly, you're the guest, you get the best treatment. Plus, it won't be forever, I'll be fine for a few nights.” Dave still noticed hesitation in my eyes, “I insist.” He added.

I sighed, “Fine, if you insist. But don't hesitate asking me to take the couch once in a while, alright?”

Dave just smiled, “Sure.”

After that, we got in our cars and I followed him to his place, a decent apartment complex in the outskirts of town. We parked and he led me to his door, unlocking it and allowing us in.

“Make yourself at home,” He said, setting down his keys and walking towards the bedroom, and I followed him.

“Hope you don't mind the mess, but it'll do.” My nose was overwhelmed with the strong smell of cigarette smoke and liquor, something he had never been able to get rid of even after not seeing him for four years.

It reminded me of James, which made me feel solemn once more. “Thanks, it's fine, I don't mind, you're already offering me all of this,” I added, sitting down on his unmade bed, which he joined me on.

“You alright? You still seem upset,” He questioned, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes once more.

“Yeah, I'm fine..” I forced out, my voice choked as I wiped the stray tear from my cheek, avoiding eye contact with him.

Dave noticed, tilting his head slightly as his concern grew, “Hey, look at me, you can talk to me, y’know?”

And just like that, I crumbled. Tears filled my eyes, and they spilled right over as I broke out into sobs, and he just wrapped his arms around me, holding me as iI leaned closer to him, soaking his worn and faded shirt with my tears as he gently comforted me and shushed my cries, wiping my tears with his thumbs when he could.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, just him holding me and caring for me, but in a way James never could, never did. James was sweet when he wanted to be, but he never held me like this and heard my cries and answered them with comfort.

After a while, I had cried myself to sleep, my cries lessening and silencing as my breathing began to even out, and Dave laid me down gently and got me into bed, wrapping the blankets around me before he headed out for the couch.

That was the night where it began, the rekindling of our once close friendship. Even though we had agreed that this wouldn't be permanent, we had now been living together for a few months, and it felt like we had never been separated, as if we had been friends for the last seven years.

Today, we were planning to go back to that bar, the first time since that night we bumped into each other. We both needed to get out, and Dave was beat and stressed over all the touring with Megadeth, and we could both use a drink.

Dave had been out for a bit today, and I was busy getting ready for tonight since he would be home within the hour. It wasn't a fancy occasion, and I was definitely over-dressing, but I hadn't had any reason to look pretty in forever, getting to wear my favorite black dress, once that complimented my figure and hugged my curves, flowing down to a bit above my knees.

I did my makeup, nothing too glam but noticeable, and for the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful. Even when I thought I had previously when I was with James, he never showed an appreciation or complimented me often.

I shook the thoughts of James out of my head, knowing I had to move on, even though much of myself was still left in that past of what we once were.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I heard Dave open the door, entering the apartment with a sigh. “Im back,” He called out as I finished clipping on my earrings, walking out to Dave.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” I asked him, seeing his face slightly surprised as he took in my figure.

“Yeah, totally.. You, you look great, by the way..” He answered, still taking in my appearance.

I smiled widely, “Thanks! Let's go then, yeah?”

Dave nodded and we headed out to his car, driving back to that bar, per his choice. The drive was filled with conversation and laughter, as we found that there was rarely a moment of silence between us. His hand rested lightly on my knee, and I didn't think much of it, just a sweet and friendly gesture.

When we arrived at the bar, he offered me a hand and helped me out of the car, walking me in the dim lighted and busy establishment as we searched for somewhere to sit, finding an empty table in the corner, quickly scurrying over there before someone else could snag the spot. 

It was a large table, one meant to seat probably around six people as it was a booth. The leather of the seats were well worn, torn in some places. The table matched, scratched up and old, though it held many memories. 

Dave got up to go order us some drinks, returning soon after and sitting down in front of me. We began to talk, but there was something different, and what I hated most about it is that I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't anything negative, but everything felt heavier, like I could feel my heart pounding in my chest for a reason I didn't know.

Dave acted off too, like something was bothering him. He was fidgety, his eyes avoiding mine but at the same holding long term eye contact. What was going on with him?

I tried to not think about it as I was probably over analyzing the whole situation. I took a sip of my drink, and for once, there was a lasting silence between us.

I didn't know what to say. The bar wasn't my idea, it was something Dave had planned on a few days ago, and he seemed excited at the time. “Everything ok? You just seem all.. Jittery.” I commented, snapping Dave out of whatever haze of thoughts he was in.

“Yeah, totally,” He muttered, which only grew my curiosity, and sparked a new worry.

Was he on drugs? Well, I knew he was, but was he on too much?

“You're not… on anything right now?” I mumbled out in a question and he shook his head.

“No no, it's not that, I swear.” Dave reassured me, and I had to take his word for it.

Dave tapped his fingers on the table a few times as he thought before speaking up.

“You uh, you remember anything in specific about this place?” Dave asked me out of the blue.

“Uhm,” I paused to think, “Yeah, isn't this where you picked me up a few months ago?”

“Well, yeah, but anything else? Think as far back as you can,” Dave instructed me, and I tried to think.

Until it hit me.

“Oh! Yeah! Isn't this where James took me to meet the rest of the band? We even sat at this booth, right?” I finally remembered, and the memories flooded back as clear as day.

Dave hasn't changed much since then, but I do remember how he was when we very first interacted. He was crazy and animalistic, yeah, but he seemed shy around me, until he had a few beers, and then he was way less tense and boxed up. That was the beginning of our friendship.

“Yeah, I think about that a lot,” Dave informed me, and I nodded.

Dave still seemed off, like he was hiding something from me.

“Dave, what's on your mind? Like actually, something is clearly bothering you,” I was growing impatient with his vague answers, I wanted to know the truth.

Dave sighed, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Well, you remember that night, tha=e first Metallica concert you attended, when I warned you about James, even though you two were already together,” and I nodded.

“Well, when he told you in that dressing room, I overheard it all. I was uhm.. Looking for you too. I got pissed that James had got to say something before I did, and uhm.. I had like.. The fattest crush on you when we first met.. And now that we've grown close again, I think I feel the same wa-” Dave was cut off as I kissed him on the lips, all of our unspoken feelings coming out for each other.

After I pulled away I moved some of his long ginger hair out of his face, gently caressing his cheek as I smiled softly at him.

“I've felt the same since we met too.”

Another influential night, all in this bar. The three times I've come here, three big things happen, always having to do with Dave.

That night was about three years ago now, and Dave and I have been together happily for those three years, now engaged and happier than ever. With the success of MEgadeth's latest album, ‘Rust in peace’, things have been going great for us. He showed me what real love felt like, to be cared for and cherished, all without getting judged.

I had gone to multiple shows with Dave at this point, and this was just another one. They were one of the headliners for a weekend-long festival, and I was more than thrilled to support my fiance.

I listened to loud chords of ‘Holy wars’ as the band began to finish their set, with me sitting backstage. I was at a table, my left hand that wore my gorgeous engagement ring was digging in my purse, until I heard familiar steps behind me.

And then a voice.

“Are you..” I cut them off.

“James? What are you-” I was now in turn cut off by him.

“I'm playing a show. What are you doing here?” The frontman asked me. I was so shocked to have seen him, personally, that is. I knew Metallica would be having a show here, but it wasn't until the next night.

As if the timing was perfect, after James questioned me, Megadeth had come off stage, Dave rushing towards me. “Hey baby, did you like the show?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.

“Yeah, it was great..” I answered, still dumbfounded. James looked even more dumbfounded than I did.

Dave looked up, curious at the silence, “What's wro-” He cut himself off, his eyes meeting James.

Daves lips curled into a smirk, knowing now he has the best form of revenge for kicking him out all those years ago. That revenge was me.

“Nice seeing you, James. What's going on with you and my fiance?” Dave bit back a cruel snicker, watching as James just grew more and more confused.

“Oh.. I was just, uhm, saying hi,” James answered, trying to process everything.

I was avoiding James' eyes. How would I explain that after I broke up with him, I met up with his ex bandmate, moved in with him after remeeting, dated after a few months, and engaged after three years.

“Uh-huh… You guys know each other, yeah?” Dave teased, knowing the answer, just wanting to get a rise out of James.

James didn't want to give Dave anymore attention, just nodding.

“Gotta thank you a bit man, I doubt we would have ran into each other again if it wasn't for you being a prick like always,” Dave said bitterly, enjoying this game of shame on James.

James looked slightly guilty, just trying to ignore him.

Dave looked back to me, “Well, I need to go clean up a bit, you can find me if someones bothering ya, sweetheart,” he said to me sweetly, my eyes meeting his before he kissed my cheek and walked away.

James just stared at me for a moment before walking off in another direction, the rest of Metallica showing up finally, Lars leading the three of them, his eyes landing on me.

This was  going to be a long, long weekend.

[zeeohoh]

OBX RAFE SMUT | MINORS DNI !

Tags : arguing, toxic!rafe, reader has female anatomy, oral, oral smut, slight fluff at the end(?).

A/N : NOT PROOF READ.

//

Rafe had been avoiding you for weeks now, his work, his dad, his friends, he has a million excuses to not see you, and you've finally had enough.

You were sat on your bed, watching Notting Hill, you had seen this movie a million times but hey, it's your favourite, you can never have enough.

It's a 21:00 on a Saturday, you were *supposed* to see Rafe, or at least, you had hoped you would, he's been blowing you off for weeks now, you guys had been going out for a few weeks but not everyone knew, and it would've been hard for anyone to believe it either because of how he treated you when you were around people you knew, it was like the better and comfortable you felt with him, the terrible he made you feel in public, in simple terms, he treated you like shit, Absolute. Pure. Shit. As if you're some fuck toy or something to help distract him and you only meant something to him when his body was on yours. You didn't entirely feel this way, he seemed to genuinely have feelings for you but his actions said otherwise, so you stopped, or you would've just been delusional. Tired of wanting him to treat you like an actual human being and tired of wrecking your brain over being torn because you felt he had feelings for you but he acted like you mean nothing, and treating you like a nobody, you grab your phone and block him, his number, his instagram, anywhere you have him on your phone, you block him, throw your phone on your pillow and continue playing the movie.

02:19 *ring* *ring*

Your eyes flutter open as you realize you fell asleep watching the movie, you're broken out of yours thoughts as you realize what woke you up in the first place, your front door bell ringing.

Who the fuck is at my door at 2 in the damn morning?

You get off your bed, quickly grab your robe and a baseball bat you kept by the shoe rack and peek through the keyhole, it was hard to make out who it was because of the rain, but you recognised the familiar silhouette of a certain Cameron. You sigh and open the door.

"What the fuck Rafe? Look at the time"

"I couldn't reach you anywhere, you wouldn't answer my calls, my texts wouldn't send, what else was I supposed to fucking do? You cut me off everywhere Y/N"

"Just..get inside, you're gonna catch a cold"

"I don't care Y/N"

You take a step aside to let him in , you barely turn around before he grabs your wrists in his hands and pins you to the wall,

"RAFE"

He's so close that you can feel him breathing on you

"Why'd you do it Y/N? Do you really want me out of your life? Is that what you want?"

"It's not like I mean shit to you anyways, Rafe"

"That's not true"

"Like fuck it is, you treat me like absolute shit, you purposely go out of your way to make me feel terrible, you want my attention but you'd rather ask for it by belittling me infront of everyone, by talking down to me or treating me like I'm just someone you use to distract yourself from whatever the fuck you need to be distracted from, sometimes the shit you say isn't even funny, it's straight up childish and immature and rude, I shouldn't even have let you in after the shit you've said and the shit you've done, I deserve better than how you treat me. "

You could barely finish your sentences without feeling the need to choke up.

"Y/N I-"

"You used to make me feel so good, so safe but now I'm scared to even talk to you because I know nothing nice is gonna come up and I'm gonna get hurt again, I know we're supposed to be just casual but I just didn't think you'll treat me like I'm a nobody to you"

Rafe's gaze softened, and his hands went from your wrists to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness because of the things I've said and how I've treated you, but I can't lose you, I don't want to do this without you Y/N, I can't justify why I've said what I've said, what can I do to make it up to you? I'll do anything, I never realized how much it could've affected you, I was being a dick, I'm so, so sorry"

"I know I shouldn't even be talking to you rn, John B would kill me"

Rafe took your hands in his and placed a kiss on the back of both hands. He peppered kisses all over your hands, working his way up to your wrists, your arms, your shoulders, and eventually, your neck, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and nibbled on the sensitive skin right next to your jaw, which he knew makes you go crazy.

You shuddered under his touch and, out of habit, leaned into him, your head resting on his chest, kissing it, you turned up to look at him, your faces barely inches apart, and close the distance. You plant a kiss on his lips, it was soft, gentle, loving. His hands wander from your neck to your back, you guide his hands to your waist, he gives you a gentle nudge and following his cue, you lift yourself and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him, his focus goes to your neck and you shudder, he takes that opportunity and slips his tongue in, his movements grow more eager as he softly grinds himself against you, grabbing everywhere you'd let him, at this point, you're both breathing each other, he's kissing you like he's gonna lose you tomorrow, like it's the last time he'll ever have you, your tongues move in a rhythm and your bodies are connected.

"Let's go inside" you say and he takes you to your room, he gently lays you down on your bed, not breaking the kiss once, not letting go of you even. once.

"May I?" He asks you as he nudges your top

You get up and help him remove the tshirt you slept in, he immediately went back to kissing your neck, your collarbone, and slowly made his way down to your chest. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, gently sucking on it, you let out a soft sigh as he bit it gently while his other hand gave attention to your other one, toying with it, kneading it then he switched to the other one, doing the same as he did for the previous one.

"Let me make you feel good ma"

He made his way further down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"Tell me if you want me to stop ,okay?"

You just hummed in agreement

"No, I want to hear you say it, tell me if I'm going too far, and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop"

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, and you lifted yourself up, helping him take them off.

"Turn the lights off,Rafe, I don't want you to look at it"

"You're beautiful, every part of you Y/N" he says as he gets up and turns the lights off, finding his way back to you, he plants gentle kisses on your inner thighs, softly massaging them. He slowly made his way to your core, planting a gentle kiss over your clothed core.

You squirmed in the bed, edging your body closer to his mouth, growing more impatient by the second.

"Easy now, I'm getting there" he said as he took your underwear off, folding it up and keeping it next to your bed, he licked a long stripe eliciting a soft moan from you, he latched himself onto your clit, lightly sucking on it, focusing on how you react to it, once he's satisfied, he pushes his tongue inside you, he speeds up exponentially, he's going down on you like a man starved, like you're the last meal he'll ever have, he doesn't slow down, he doesn't stop, he barely comes up for air, he only has one thing on his mind, making you come. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing them and tugging at them.He violently thrusts his tongue in and out of you, practically abusing your clit while you're a moaning mess, he hooks your legs over his arms to grip you and hold you down as you squirm and push yourself onto his face, his nose is lightly bumping against your clit, your moans turn him on and he started grinding against the bed, he suddenly inserts a finger in you which make you arch your back, pumping in and out of you, hitting your g spot as his thumb makes it way to your clit and rubs circles on it, while his other hand grabs your breast and plays with it, the sudden increase in stimulation drive you closer to your edge, your eyes are shut, you can't say anything, you can't think of anything other than how good his mouth feels, how good he's making you feel, you feel the burning sensation, signalling you're not that far

"Rafe I'm gonna-"

He doesn't even let you finish that sentence before he speeds up, you didn't think it was possible for him to go faster, but he was, the room is silent except for the moaning mess he's made of you and the unholy sounds he's making as he eats you out, he can feel how close you are, he hums in satisfaction.

"It's okay, come for me" You can feel the smirk he has on his face as he says it

Right as he finishes his sentence, you came. hard, harder than you've probably ever come. You're a panting mess, he slows down his movements but he doesn't stop, helping you ride out your high, once he's sure, he gets up and grabs a towel, cleaning you up, he kisses your thighs and helps you up on the bed, and lays down next to you. He holds you close and whispers in your ear

"I'm so sorry for ever making you feel like you mean less than to me than you actually do, I won't do it again"

"It's easier said than done, Cameron, don't make me regret giving you another chance"

you turn to face him and bury your face in his chest, slowly drifting away into a peaceful sleep as he plants a kiss on your forehead and holds you close. He'll spend as long as it is needed to make up for how he treated you, taking care of you and cherishing you for as long as you'd have him.

[necrophiliak]

[ratanslily]

this is a ian hate blog🙌🏽

he's a colonizer, I'm an Indian

wild animals are meant to be in jungles, not as exotic pets

see 1) and 2)

where was that tiger caught from? hm.. Bengal is famous for their tigers, kcd/fs in set in Bengal. that means the yt btch exploited our jungles to capture and tame the poor creature. maybe he got it from somewhere else but the coincidence is too hard to ignore. this reminds me of the time british used to use our raw materials and cheap labour, and sell the product to us in high prices under the Queen's name. 🤡

but for real, I hope Pride!Devi has the option to slit his throat open like Amala. I'd feed him to the tiger, tbh🤷🏽‍♀️

[0zaniest0]

Me: You know what, I'll finish reading all my books instead of doing other stuff like watching hermitcraft, It'll do me some good!

The book, perhaps fate herself: Mumbo Jumbo

[sunnibits]

nah bc why is the tag filtering system on this site way more effective than the blocking system 😑

[queenaeducan]

I started bg3 the other day and I'm at the tiefling party. Suddenly everyone wants a piece of me.

[toytulini]

saw fanart yesterday that i was ehh on

but it brought me to the conclusion that, if shrek was a lesbian, if shrek was a woman, i think she would be exactly the same as canon movie shrek, actually, and in fact. to the point, she would be so indistinguishable, that i can no longer be convinced that canon movie shrek isnt a he/him lesbian, and im excited to rewatch all the movies through the lens of percieving shrek this way. i think it will be based. excited.

[katsigian]

[felixcosm]

The way people are responding to Taylor Swift's new album because they don't think she is tortured or mentally ill enough to call it that is fucking embarrassing.

God forbid an artist ever exaggerates for artistic purpose. God forbid a celebrity writes about pain or suffering if they haven't experienced the maximum amount of trauma in their life.

I mean, everyone knows the moment you become a celebrity all your human experience disappears and you elevate to a new level of existence where you cannot have relatable experiences anymore for the rest of your life.

[cavarage]

i know that there are a lot of swifties amongst my mutuals and i love them so much but if i have to see her on my dash one more time...... 💀

[an-emo-trashbag]

even tumblrs own twitter account is aiding the mission of scaring away the absolute normie FREAKS

there are multiple replies with similar sentiments to this one

[lea-andres]

Oh so Tumblr's going to be unusable today, noted...

[prin-does-art]

I talked to my boyfriend about this before, but while we were listening to The Caretaker's Everywhere At The End of Time album I went searching and I'm surprised there isn't more discourse around Bucky and dementia/Alzheimer's/other memory related degenerative diseases. I mean, on AO3 you see the amnesia tag but that's it. Part of the reason I believe is because in the MCU, Bucky's memory has been improving with each movie, but I just, can't help but think there's so much angst potential for fanfiction where the exact opposite happens. Bucky's memory doesn't get better it just keeps getting progressively worse, and him, Steve and the others have to deal with all that entails. I mean, realistically, the damage his brain must have suffered with all the shocks is unimaginable. And that's not even mentioning his C-PTSD and his trauma. I think that would be his biggest fear, realistically. Forgetting due to something he has no control over. Losing track of reality, not knowing real memories from false ones, the list goes on...

[vanweezer]

warnings for (crossed out) uses of the r slur & mentions of sui

hashtag clip studio paint