#but with her friend she read his suicide note out loud

[newl0ndonfire]

while it’s great that being at my mom’s means I don’t have to deal with my dad’s blatant bigotry, it also means that I have to listen to her prattle on about things that are incredibly irrelevant (and I don’t care about in the slightest) in addition to being around her messes with my already fucked eating habits while she says shit that fucks with my eating more. she’s also bigoted but not intentionally like my dad and doesn’t bring it up nearly as often

[norrizzandpia]

Call Your Mom (LN4)

Summary: Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, mentions/inferences/an attempt of suicide, mentions of alcohol, attempted overdose (lmk if I missed any <3)

Word Count: 4,090

Note: In this song, the artist says he’ll call the person he’s talking to’s mom, but in the imagine, I changed it to Lando calling the reader’s best friends. Also, at the end of the song, the artist talks about religion (specifically religions that believe in Jesus) so, as to not assume anyone’s religion, I just didn’t address that part of the lyric in the song. Happy reading 🧡

Oh, you're spiraling again. The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of but, don't you cancel any plans. 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

Opening the door, Lando clocked the quietness of his apartment, something he wasn't accustomed to ever since his girlfriend moved in with him. Slipping off his shoes and letting his duffel bag fall to the floor, he called out for her multiple times, but he was continually met with a loud silence.

"Y/n?" He said once more as he rounded the corner of the kitchen and made his way toward their bedroom.

If it hadn't been for the quiet, he wouldn't have heard her soft murmur, "In here."

'In here' sounded like the bedroom and his suspicions were proven true when he walked through the threshold to be met with her curled up in the duvet. Her face was towards him and, in a millisecond, he could tell she was struggling again.

Softly, he padded over to her before sitting down beside her and letting his hand come to stroke her cheek, "How was hanging out with Lily and Paige today?"

Shaking her head and turning over, Y/n told Lando she had canceled the plans and decided not to go. His disappointment was internal, something he wouldn't clue her in on because it would destroy her to know he was disappointed in her for something she can't control. Her depressive episodes were less frequent now, but they still came around every so often, and when they did, they were suffocating. After years, he had shown up enough to make her feel like he was her safe place, so when she slipped into the darkness of her mind, she didn't shut him out.

Taking off his shirt and pants, so he was only left in his boxers, he slipped under the covers and turned her around so she was facing him once again. Holding her head in his hands, he was quick to wipe away the tears under her eyes and splayed over her cheeks before kissing her nose, "I know it's hard right now, but this will pass. You will get through this one like you do the other ones. But, I'm right here with you if you ever feel like you need a hand to hold."

He seemed to get through to her as she smiled softly at him and stuffed her face into his neck. His hands circled around her as he felt her breathe in his cologne.

Tomorrow, he would call Paige and Lily, and tell them what was going on. If there were other people on the planet that could help Y/n out of the deep depths of her mind, it was her best friends.

The two girls who had been there long before he had.

—

Stayed on the line with you the entire night till you let it out and let it in. Don't let this darkness fool you. All lights turned off can be turned on. I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom.

These were the worst ones. The ones where he couldn't be there because he was in another country. These were the ones he feared the most.

Her sobbing on the other side of the phone broke his heart further as he contemplated packing up all his stuff and pulling out of the race that was just two days away. His team would be furious with him, but, at this point, he couldn't care. All he cared about was getting to her and calming the ever-flowing, horrible thoughts.

"I know you always say I get through these and I come out on the other side, but I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore." She cried again. Her words terrified Lando like he could never explain. If she was insinuating what he thought, then pulling out of the race wouldn't be so bad. However, he didn't want to ask her because the idea of putting that in her head and having her dwell on that course of action without him was haunting.

"Remember what we always say? All lights turned off can be turned on? Y/n, that's what you are. You're a light to everyone around you. To me, to Paige and Lily, to your family, to anyone who has the privilege of meeting you, you're a bright, bright light. Just hang on for me, darling. Please. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me." He pleaded with her as he texted quickly with Paige and Lily. The two friends were the only ones in close vicinity with Y/n and the minute he had texted them, letting each of them know she needed help, they were texting him not even a second later that they were on their way.

"Okay." It was faint, but it was there. On the other end of the line, he heard doors opening and closing along with the soft chatter of two voices he recognized immediately.

"Did you call Paige and Lily?" His girlfriend asked as the voices grew louder.

"Of course." He responded quickly.

Y/n was silent for a moment before she took in a breath, "Thank you."

Even with her muffled tone, he could hear the small smile, "Anytime, angel. I'm always here to help you."

Y/n must've forgotten to hang up the phone because he was able to hear their bedroom door open and close along with Paige's booming voice, "Hey, babe. We brought wine and romance novels. Ready to find the craziest smut and laugh at it?"

Lando smiled to himself. The three girls had been a tight-knit group since high school and had been obsessed with getting together to find into each other's delusions. He was convinced that he never laughed harder when he was included in their girl talks because they would say and do the most outrageous things. He had never met three people who would genuinely do anything for each other, whether that was murder or ordering food because the other two were too nervous to do it themselves.

The conversation continued as he heard Paige and Lily plop down onto the bed, "Was that Lando?" Lily asked.

He could see Y/n's nod in his head, "Yeah, he was just talking with me. You know, being the disgustingly perfect human being he is."

Paige groaned, "Ugh, he really is disgusting. He's like those book boyfriends we used to obsess over when we were in high school. I mean, seriously Y/n, he's perfect. I was genuinely worried when you said you were dating an F1 driver because most of those guys are just players, but I think he's the one for you."

Lando's smile intensified as he heard Paige's truthful opinion of him. When they first got together, he knew impressing her best friends was of utmost importance. If he didn't get their stamp of approval, he was done for. So he had gotten flowers for each of them and had paid for the entire lunch they had. Lily was easy to win over with that lunch, but Paige had twisted his gestures in a way that made him seem shallow. His flowers were over-the-top and obvious, and paying for lunch was flaunting his money. It had taken a few months to get through to the girl, but after a lengthy conversation where it became apparent to him how protective she was over Y/n, Lando assured her he would protect her just the same.

Y/n's laughing brought Lando back to the conversation he was eavesdropping on, "How does that position even work?"

Clearly he had zoned out long enough to not notice the transition from the topic of him to dirty romance novels, but he didn't really care because Y/n was laughing and that was good.

That was really, really good.

—

Waiting room, no place to stand. Just greatest fears, and wringing hands and the loudest silence.

He didn't know how it got to that point, to be completely honest. One moment, he had gotten off the phone with her and the next he was getting a call from Paige, who was in a clear fit of distress as she spit out she had gotten an alarming text from Y/n that sounded too much like a goodbye. In fear, Lando stood up abruptly in his meeting and ran out, telling everyone he had a family emergency. He had probably broken multiple laws as he sped through intersections and school zones to get to her. His car hadn't even fully stopped before he was flying out of it and shoving open the door to their apartment. He didn't clock the silence this time because all he could hear was the shower and the steady stream of water.

The door was locked as he tried to get in and he began banging on the door, yelling for Y/n to come out. Tears flooded his vision as he pleaded with her to open the door or at least give him some confirmation she was okay, but nothing came. All he could hear was the sick and twisted sound of water hitting tile flooring. It didn't take his mind more than two seconds to come to the conclusion he would have to break the door down and when he did, he was met with Y/n and a bottle of pills in her hand.

She seemed coherent which was a good sign, but Lando saw the tears flying down her face as she stared at the bottle. He was quick to kneel down before her and gently take the bottle of her hands, "Did you take them?" He asked assertively.

When she didn't answer, he asked more forcefully, "Y/n, did you take them?"

She shook her head 'no' and Lando let out a strangled sob.

"Y/n, baby, you need help. You need to get on medication and see a therapist. It will help you, I promise. Please, just-" He took a breath to try and calm down, "Just let me get you the help you need."

So, that's how he found himself in the dim waiting room of the hospital with clammy palms and a loud mind.

"Lando." Paige's voice appeared from behind him and as he turned around, he saw her tear-stained cheeks.

"She was about to do it when I got there. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, she-" Lando's tears cut him off as his head fell into his hands and he broke down once more. He didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't gotten there as soon as he did.

Paige's hand on his back reminded him that she was Y/n's best friend and was probably going through the same emotions. Letting his head turn so he could meet her gaze, he asked, "How are you? Is Lily coming?"

Paige sighed, "I'm as good as I can be in this kind of situation and Lily's on her way, but she won't be here for a few hours. She was on a business trip when it happened."

He nodded as he sat back, shrugging off Paige's hand that he wished was Y/n's. The two sat next to each other as they stared off into the distance, leaving words unsaid as they waited to hear what was going on with Y/n's psych evaluation.

If you could see yourself like this, if you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it.

As he stared down at his lock screen, he reminisced on an easier time. The picture was of the two at his parent's house when he got the call that he would be in F1. They were sitting next to each other at the dining room table, their faces lit up with smiles as they looked at each other. Y/n's hands were up in the air, seconds from wrapping him in a hug, and his were already on her, two arms around her waist. It was a split-second moment only picked up on by the video his mom had been taking at the time, but he liked this photo more than the one of the them actually hugging because it seemed more genuine. A quick moment that was just them and her happiness for him.

She had seen the photo multiple times, but Lando didn't think she had really seen it. He didn't think she had actually took note of how beautiful her smile looked or how pretty her eyes sparkled or the way he looked at her or how, in that moment, he wasn't looking at his phone which had just told him his lifelong dream was coming true, but at the girl who had been his true dream all along. He wondered if he had shown her all these small things maybe she wouldn't have gotten to this point, to the point where she wanted to end it all. His mind wandered to places where this was his fault, where he should have tried harder to show her how loved she was.

However, before he could spiral deeper, the sight of her doctor approaching them made him stand up and forget about everything else, but her.

"How is she?" He immediately asked as Paige and Lily stood up beside him. Lily had gotten there about an hour before, rambling on about how sorry she was that she couldn't be there sooner.

"She's doing better, however, it is my professional opinion that she stays here for a few more days before she goes home. I would like to put her on antidepressants and give her the information for a therapist I think could really help her. Are you her husband?" The doctor spoke.

Lando shook his head, "No, just her boyfriend."

The doctor nodded, "Okay, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about how long this has been going on and such." His gaze shifted to the two girls standing beside Lando, "Are you her friends?"

The two nodded, "Okay, she's been asking for you. Paige and Lily, is it? You can visit her if you'd like."

Before he knew it, Paige and Lily were leaving his side to go tend to the girl that was more their sister than their friend.

Leaving just him and the doctor, the questions began, "How long has she been struggling this way?"

"Well, she's always struggled with depression, but it's gotten worse over the past year. Her episodes haven't been as often, but they're worse when they come now." Lando answered just as the doctor began nodding.

Down the hall, Paige and Lily were lying on each side of Y/n's hospital bed.

"Why, Y/n?" Paige asked from her squished position.

Y/n shook her head, "I don't know. I just- I got off the phone with Lando and something just snapped in me. I've burdened all of you with my problems for so long, I couldn't do it anymore. I can't imagine how sick Lando must be of having to be at my beck and call every two seconds. I'm just done forcing you guys to be there for me."

Paige and Lily eyed each other from over their friend's head, "Y/n," Lily began, "you are not burdening anyone with your problems. You've never ever been doing that. We show up for you because we want to, not because we have to. You've been Paige and I's family for so long, of course we're going to want to be there for you when you're struggling. And Lando? Lando was out there crying into his hands because he thinks this is his fault, that he didn't try as hard as he could. None of us feel forced by you to be there for you. That's never been the case. We love you, so we're going to show up no matter what."

By the end of it, all three girls were crying and Paige decided this would be a good time to hug each of them. Extending her arms out so they could reach over to Lily and squish Y/n in the middle, she squeezed both of them. With soft giggling and small smiles, Lily and Y/n both wrapped their arms around the other two. It was a quiet moment as they hugged, letting the gesture speak for itself, before the door to the room was opening and Lando was coming in.

Lily and Paige took that as their cue to go get some snacks from the cafeteria as Lando sat in the chair beside the bed, taking her hand in his.

Small tears began to flow down his face at her breathing form, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Y/n wiped his tears away with the hand that wasn't caged by him and whispered, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Lando's glossy eyes looked up at her, "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I love you and anything you go through is something I want to help you through. At the end of the day, I'm just glad I get to tell you 'I love you' again."

Her own tears began to flow at his sweet words and as he squeezed her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles, she realized her light might just be turning on again.

—

Medicate, meditate, save yourself for Jesus, throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

With the medication and therapy sessions, Y/n was finally finding her way back to herself. She was beginning to find recovery fun as her, Paige, Lily, and Lando all had Saturdays where they would go out and do yoga and meditate together. At first, when all three of them presented the idea to her, she thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but after the first session, she fell in love with it. Whether it was the laughs they shared as Lando made weird noises during the quietness of their meditation or the realization that she could get lost in her mind without falling into a deep, dark void, she fell in love with those Saturdays.

Sure, recovery was also hard, but she was learning to fight and throw punches at the dark memories and thoughts that would pass her brain.

It was nice to see Lando realizing he was getting her back too. She could see it in the way his eyes shimmered when she would crack a joke or finally fulfill plans without canceling them. She didn't realize it when she was going through it, but, in the midst of her depression, Lando had been watching his favorite person get lost in themselves and he couldn't do anything. She couldn't imagine the sort of pain he must've had to push aside, so he could help her, and after multiple tearful conversations about it, Lando had hugged Y/n and told her he would never be mad at her for struggling and needing help.

It was like her whole world had been in black and white, and now, it was full of color. She could genuinely smile at the crazy paragraphs they would find in romance novels on their wine-filled nights, and laugh at the two girls planning her imaginary wedding to her boyfriend.

After it all, Paige had had a conversation with Lando that Y/n wasn't aware of, well, not yet that is. She had asked Lando if he saw Y/n in his future and when he had dug into his pocket to pull out a box that held a large, shimmery ring, she smiled giddily. They both knew a proposal was something that would have to happen a little later because Y/n needed time to fully get back to herself before her life was changing again, but they knew it was inevitable.

Lando would be asking Y/n to marry him, one way or another.

—

I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom. I'll call your mom.

As he was driving, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. After a year or two of recovering, Y/n was finally herself again and when Paige had texted Lando, telling him Y/n had just admitted she would say yes to Lando if he asked her to marry him over wine, he stopped what he was doing in his meeting and said he had to go. He couldn't wait any longer.

He needed to ask her to marry him.

The drive was way too long for his liking and as he flew out of his car before it even stopped, he got deja vu. The last time he was pulling up to their house this way, it had been for an entirely different, horrific reason. But, now, the only reason why he would stay up on the phone with her was because he never wanted to stop talking, because they could finally put aside the pain of it all and just be in love. He almost cried on the spot because he had an overwhelming rush of pride for his girl and how strong she had been to fight so hard and come out on the other side. Due to her not giving up, he had the privilege of asking her to marry him.

Walking through the door, the quick and loud chattering came to an abrupt stop. It was quiet for a moment before Y/n's voice called out to him, "Lando?"

He smiled, "Yes, baby?"

There was a clatter of glasses on their coffee table and feet hitting the hardwood floor before she was appearing around the corner in all his radiance.

"What are you doing home so early?" She asked as her eyebrows furrowed.

He pulled her into him, giving her a light kiss on her lips before smiling mischievously at her, "Why? You got another man in there?" He joked with her.

She laughed, "No, you know I would never do that, dumbass."

As they entered the dining room, being met with Paige's and Lily's smiling faces at the happy couple, they sat down on the couch as Lando eyed the half empty bottle of wine. Paige had an inkling about what he was going to do considering she sent the text and was met with his telling her he was on his way.

"So, why are you here so early?" Y/n asked as his arm laid over her shoulders and she snuggled further into him.

Lando sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous, "I needed to ask you a question."

Y/n's brows furrowed, "Oh? What's up?"

"Marry me?" He said immediately as he pulled out the box he had been carrying around for years.

Y/n's mouth fell open as her eyes began to glisten with tears and she met the gaze of her best friends, glad they were here to share this moment with her.

"My love, I have loved you for years and we've been through hell and back together. When we were finally able to rest, I realized that there is no one else in this world that I would rather go through hell and back with. I fall in love with you every single day and your strength amazes me continuously. You deserve so much after everything you've been through and I'm asking if you'll let me be the man to give it all to you and more." He finished and took the ring out of the box, taking her hand in his and looking at her with his calming green eyes.

She smiled the biggest she ever had in the past few years, "Of course, Lando. Always."

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, Paige and Lily shot up from their seated positions on the floor and started shrieking with excitement, hugging each other and jumping up and down. As the couple kissed softly, their yelling intensified.

And as Y/n continued smiling at Lando, she looked around the room only to find a small family that had done everything they could to keep her alive.

[writerofsorts]

A Funeral and A Secret

(image creds: to the owner)

pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.

summary: 2x05 "the devil you know" episode imagine/rewrite.

warnings: death, funeral.

*read previous part here!

—————

The day after discovering that Ian Thomas was dead, the girls sat in the courtyard of the school, quietly chatting among themselves.

"Is this a suicide note or a confession?" Aria asked. The five girls were looking at a picture of Ian's suicide note that was found next to his body.

"It's both," answered Spencer.

"How do you have this, Em?" [Y/N] asked, confused as to how Emily had a photo of the note on her iPad.

"I sent it to her," Hanna replied. "I took a picture with my phone before we called the cops."

"It's weird," Emily said, a disturbed glint in her eyes. "Why would Ian kill himself just as he was about to skip town with Melissa?"

"Maybe he realized that he was gonna get caught," [Y/N] suggested and Spencer nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he knew he couldn't hide forever. Even with Melissa and Wren's help."

"He was probably desperate," Aria commented.

"Look, who cares why Ian did it?" Hanna spoke, a little annoyed. "The important thing is Ali's killer is dead and we are no longer people of interest."

"Why am I not feeling relieved right now?" Emily asked, still not convinced.

"Oh, Em, come on," Aria sighed. "For months, we've been about as welcome in this town as a cold sore. Now, people know that we've been telling the truth."

"And, Ian is out of our lives for good," [Y/N] added, Aria and Hanna nodding in agreement with her.

"Yes, but A isn't," Emily pressed and Spencer sighed out loud. "Can we please slay one dragon at a time?"

Spencer suddenly sat up and turned off the iPad. Her friends frowned at her behavior but soon understood when Garrett Reynolds stopped next to their table.

"Hey," he greeted simply.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Spencer asked curiously.

"I just came to return some evidence that we took from the field hockey office," he answered and looked around once before lowering his voice further. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry you all had to be the ones who found him."

"Melissa is the one who found him," Spencer replied.

"I'm sorry," Garrett said. "Then again, it could've been worse."

"What do you mean?" Aria asked him.

"Bodies decay. He had been dead for at least a week," he replied, making the girls freeze in their seats.

"Give my best to your family," he told Spencer and gave a nod to the other girls before walking away.

"A week?" Hanna whispered.

"That's impossible," [Y/N] said. "Wasn't he texting Melissa?"

"No, he wasn't," Emily said, realizing that her suspicions might be true after all. "I'm betting it was A."

"Why would A pretend to be Ian and then lead us to his body?" asked Aria.

"Does it matter?" Spencer asked. Although she looked stunned by Garrett's revelation about Ian's death, it was clear she wanted to move on from this topic. "The guy was scum and now, he's dead scum. Who cares if A found him first?"

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why A would be involved?" Emily asked. "I mean, what does A want?"

"You know what I want?" Hanna asked. "I want to enjoy my life again before A finds a way to ruin it."

Hanna got up and walked inside the school with Aria and Spencer following behind. [Y/N] got up to do the same when she noticed Emily making no move from her seat.

"What is it, Em?" she asked softly.

"We now know A is involved," Emily answered. "Doesn't that make you nervous?

"Of course, it does," [Y/N] replied honestly. "Just for today, I wanna forget about A. I'm still recovering from seeing Ian's dead body last night."

Emily's previous apprehension shifted to understanding as she held [Y/N]'s hand. [Y/N] smiled and squeezed Emily's hand in hers.

"But, we'll figure this out," she said, hoping to reassure Emily. "We always do."

…

Later that night, after taking a shower, [Y/N] was dressed in her comfiest pajamas. She was settled comfortably in her bed, reading, when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called out, placing the bookmark on the current page she was reading, and closed the book.

The door opened and her parents appeared in the doorway as she placed the book on her nightstand. It gave her a sense of déjà vu except for her brother's absence, who went back to his apartment.

"Hi honey," they spoke at the same time and [Y/N] smiled.

"Hello," she said back. "You guys haven't slept yet?"

"No," Leslie replied. [Y/N] moved over and Leslie sat in the space next to her while James sat next to his wife. "Your father and I just got off the phone with Veronica."

"Uh oh," [Y/N]'s response was rather automatic.

"Nothing bad, we promise," James replied instantly, holding his daughter's hand on top of the comforter. "Veronica asked if we could be there at Ian's funeral for them. For Spencer."

"Of course," [Y/N] nodded and her parents shared a look.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to go if you don't want to," Leslie told her. "No one will say anything if you don't go. Even if someone says something, it doesn't matter."

"I want to be there for Spencer," [Y/N] answered. "Besides, this feels like a closure. The closure my friends and I have been looking for since- since they found Ali."

Her parents nodded, understanding where she was coming from.

"We also wanted to apologize for not believing you and your friends about Ian," Leslie said with guilt in her eyes and [Y/N] shook her head. "It's alright. It didn't help that Ian disappeared from the church that night. We had no proof other than our words and experience."

"That should've been more than enough," James argued, angry at himself. "If that wasn't enough, we agreed with Dr. Sullivan and Veronica when they suggested you girls should spend time apart."

[Y/N] could tell her parents were extremely guilt with everything. She was grateful for their understanding; at the same time, she felt a little guilty as well for meeting with her friends behind her parents' backs.

"I have to tell you both something," she spoke, looking between them sheepishly. "My friends and I didn't stop hanging out… completely. We still met up sometimes to talk about everything that's been going on. So, I'm sorry too."

"I had a feeling you girls might your find your way," Leslie said with a playful glare, ruffling [Y/N]'s hair and the latter laughed. "Dad? Are you upset?"

"Of course not," replied James. "This just means I don't have to drown in guilt anymore."

The three of them laughed and the parents engulfed their daughter in a bear hug. According to them, the town's biggest nightmare was over and they couldn't be more relieved.

…

Next day at school, [Y/N] along with Aria, Hanna and Spencer were sitting in their class and quietly chatting before the teacher arrived.

A few minutes later, Emily entered the classroom and rushed over to her friends.

"Ian didn’t commit suicide," she stated with a finality in her tone. "The entire suicide letter is made up of A texts."

"What?" [Y/N] and Spencer exclaimed at the same time.

"How do you know that?" Aria asked.

"I read the note again and a couple of words stuck out to me," Emily explained. "I checked my old text messages. Come on."

Emily gestured the girls to follow her to the back of the classroom for privacy. She pulled out a paper from her notebook and Aria grabbed it first, reading the content.

"I killed Alison. I lost my temper, because she knew too much."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened at the last sentence. 'She knew too much' was text she and her friends had received after A tried to kill Hanna.

"But, there is only so much you can bury and it won't be that easy," Aria continued reading. "But, I know how to get rid of the pain. I can't run anymore. Come and find me. Ian."

"So, these are the parts from the texts?" Hanna asked, pointing at the parts that were printed and pasted on the paper.

"There are only five people that know about the texts," said Emily. "Us and A."

"How did you figure this out?" Aria asked.

"Please. I've been watching Wheel of Fortune with my mom since I was three," said Emily with a hint of humor.

"If A wrote this, that means Ian never actually confessed to killing Ali," Spencer said, her eyes filling with dread.

"It gets worse," Emily added, making the girls look at her in growing worry. "Logan Reed? The guy who dropped off money for Ian the night of the sting? I know where he works. We need more answers."

…

The day of Ian's funeral arrived.

[Y/N] was dressed in a simple black dress with her hair in a simple half up-half down with some strands framing her face.

She arrived at the church with her family and it didn't take long before she spotted her friends. Except for Spencer as she was already inside the church with her family.

James, Leslie, and Sid went ahead to greet the Hastings while [Y/N] joined Aria, Emily and Hanna.

The four girls walked inside the church and the bells went off.

"Who's ringing it this time?" Hanna asked quietly, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Hey, thanks for being here," Spencer said, walking over to her friends.

"Of course," [Y/N] smiled. "How's your family holding up?"

Spencer didn't answer and turned to look at Melissa. The girls followed the direction Spencer was looking and saw Melissa standing at the back. She was staring down at the floor with no expression on her face and had one arm wrapped around her protruded stomach.

A wave of sadness washed over [Y/N] as she took in Melissa's state. The older woman's gut-wrenching scream from the night they discovered Ian's dead body still rang in her ear sometimes. Melissa didn't deserve to deal with such tragedy, especially while being pregnant.

"What are the police doing here?" Emily questioned when she noticed several police officers stationed at the entrance and scattered throughout the church.

"Uh, my parents wanted them here in case any uninvited guests showed up," Spencer replied quietly.

"I thought my no-party-crashers policy was strict," Hanna joked lightly.

"I think Spencer means angry mob with torches," said Aria.

"I should get back to my family," Spencer smiled tightly. "Thanks again."

A while later, everyone gathered at the cemetery and watched as Ian's casket was lowered to the ground. The five best friends picked up dirt and threw it on the casket, one by one.

[Y/N] was the last to throw the dirt and dusted her hands. She glanced up and she was taken aback to see Jason sitting on a bench in the distance. He resembled a lost little boy as he sat by himself, staring down at his hands, and her heart went out to him.

Soon, the service was completed and most people had left. The girls' parents stayed behind, catching up, while [Y/N] stood to the side, debating on whether she should go check up on Jason or not.

"You should go talk to him," Hanna spoke, coming to stand next to her.

"What?" [Y/N] asked.

"You should go talk to him," Hanna repeated. "I mean, you were thinking the same, right?"

"Well, I was debating on whether I should or not," [Y/N] admitted. "And, I didn't think he would be here."

"Me neither," replied Hanna.

"Waiting for your parents?" Emily asked, walking up to [Y/N] and Hanna. The girls nodded in response and it didn't take long before Emily noticed Jason's presence in the cemetery. "Who's he waiting for?"

Hanna shrugged while [Y/N] said, "Maybe, he came for the same reason we did."

"To spit on Ian's grave?" Emily scoffed, making her friends laugh a little.

"No, for closure probably," said [Y/N].

"Well, I still think he's creepy," Emily said, crossing her arms across her chest. "Even if he wasn't hiding Ian, the guy's a freak and always has been."

Hanna looked at [Y/N], who pursed her lips.

"Anyway, I should go," Emily said, facing the girls again. "Tell your families I said goodbye."

"See you later, Em," [Y/N] replied just Hanna said, "will do."

Hanna turned to [Y/N] once Emily was out of earshot, "don't take her words to heart."

"I won't," [Y/N] smiled, shaking her head. "But, yes, I'll go talk to him."

"Good," Hanna smiled back. "Talk to you later?"

"Definitely," [Y/N] nodded and Hanna gave her a hug before walking away.

After making sure her parents and brother were still chatting with the Montgomery's, [Y/N] made her way towards Jason.

"Hi Jason," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up at her, surprise crossing his features, "Hey [Y/N]."

"Is it okay if I--" [Y/N] pointed to the seat next to him and he moved over instantly, giving her space. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," she smiled as she sat down and clasped her palms in her lap. "I didn't think you would be here."

"I didn't think you'd be here either," he replied, looking at her.

"For Spencer and her family," she answered and he nodded in understanding. "How are you holding up?"

"He was one of my best friends," he stated solemnly. "And, he killed my sister. I- it's hard to believe it. But, I got to admit that Ian and I stopped being friends after-"

[Y/N] looked at him curiously when he paused, "after he what?"

"Doesn't matter now," he shook his head. "How are you? I heard you and your friends were with Melissa when she found him."

"It was… unexpected," she answered. "We were following Melissa and Wren, because we were afraid Ian might hurt her. But, we didn't think we would find his… corpse, instead. I could still hear Melissa's scream in my head."

"I'm sorry," he said, sympathy lacing his voice, and she smiled a little.

"I just hope Ali can finally rest now," she said and he nodded, hoping for the same.

"She was so fearless," he remarked with a small, fond smile. "She used to threaten me all the time with one thing or another."

"Sounds like Ali," [Y/N] chuckled, Jason joining in.

"She was extremely smart, even as a kid," he continued. "She was fearless when she needed to be. I was always a little jealous of that… of her.

"I guess, that's why my parents can't even look at me anymore. They know they lost the wrong kid," he was holding back tears as he finished speaking and [Y/N]'s eyes widened at his words.

"Don't say that," she said back, grabbing his left hand with her right one on instinct. "Look, maybe you coming here today was a mistake."

"The opposite, to be honest," he replied, holding her hand, accepting the comfort she was giving him with the small gesture. "You don't know how good it feels to know it wasn't me."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, confused.

"I don't remember much from the night Ali died," he explained. "I blacked out and woke up the next morning with a wicked hangover and-"

He paused, reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand. He pulled a piece of paper and held it out to her, "and, this."

She removed her hand from his and took the folded piece of paper. She opened it and her eyes widened as she read the words on it, 'I know what you did.'

"Jason, who gave you this?" she asked, facing him again. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know, but it almost destroyed me," he replied, facing forward.

"You thought you killed Alison?" she whispered, afraid of saying the sentence out loud.

"Like I said, I was jealous of her," he replied quietly. "And, when I got loaded, I got angry."

[Y/N] looked down at the ground, processing the last few minutes.

"But, Ian's confession changed everything," he said, relief visible in his tone. "He did it, not me."

[Y/N] remained silent as her mind was fluttering with thoughts. Not for one moment did she think that Jason killed his sister. However, she also knew that Ian's confession was fake.

So, who really killed Ali? And, who wrote that note for Jason?

She looked down at the paper one more time, her eyes scanning the words. She didn't know if she was being paranoid, but the handwriting looked similar to Ian's 'suicide note' which was actually written by A. So, she couldn't help but wonder if A had been around on the day Ali disappeared and messed with Jason for some reason.

"[Y/N]?" Jason's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "You okay? You've been silent for a while."

"Yeah, I'm okay," she cleared her throat, before passing the note back to him. "I think you should get rid of this. You- you never know with the people in this town."

He stared at her for a couple of seconds before nodding. He took the note from her and tucked it inside his coat pocket again to take care of it later.

Before either could of them could speak more, several footsteps coming in their direction made them look up.

[Y/N] felt her heart drop to her stomach when she saw that it was her parents and brother. The three of them looked confused seeing her sitting with Jason. She stood up once they were closer and so did Jason. Leslie was the first to break the silence as she smiled at Jason kindly.

"Hi Jason, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm good, Mrs. [y/l/n] and you?" Jason replied back politely.

"Good, thank you," said Leslie.

"Are your parents here?" James asked.

"No, they're not," said Jason. "Coming back to Rosewood is not easy for them."

"Give them our best," Leslie said with sympathy and Jason nodded, "I will, thank you."

"Are you planning on staying?" Sid asked next.

[Y/N] was a silent spectator and she felt a little embarrassed with all the questions her family kept asking Jason. But, he was patiently answering them.

"I do," he replied, clearing his throat. "I've been doing some renovations around the house. They're almost complete."

"Good, good," Sid nodded. "Well, reach out if you need anything."

"Absolutely, don't be a stranger," Leslie added.

"I appreciate it, thank you," Jason said with a small smile.

"Well, we should get going now," James said. "Good to see you, Jason."

"Likewise, Mr. [y/l/n]," Jason replied.

"Bye, Jason," [Y/N] said with a small wave and he smiled at her politely, "Bye, [Y/N]."

Leslie and Sid exchanged their goodbyes with Jason as well before the family of four walked to the parking lot.

"Honey, I didn't know you spoke to Jason DiLaurentis," James broke the silence first.

"Oh, I do… occasionally," [Y/N] replied, a little anxious. She didn't think she would have to talk with her family about Jason this soon. "I mean, I just say hello when I see him around."

"So, this was not the first time?" James asked. He was trying to seem nonchalant, but he didn't like seeing his daughter around a… boy.

"No, not really," [Y/N] replied in a small voice. She didn't want to lie, because her family must've noticed the comfort with which she was speaking to Jason.

"How about we stop at the Grille for some lunch?" Leslie asked once they reached the car, trying to change the topic. Just like her husband, she was curious as to when her daughter started talking to Jason like a friend. At the same time, she knew [Y/N] would talk to them when she was ready.

James, who knew what his wife was doing, stared at her. [Y/N] and Sid watched as their parents had a silent conversation before James sighed in defeat.

"To the Grille, it is," he spoke, getting into the driver's side of the car. Leslie smiled in victory and winked playfully at [Y/N] before getting on the passenger's side.

"I'm here if you need anything," Sid told her simply and opened the backdoor of the car for her to go in first.

"Thank you," she smiled at him before getting inside the car.

Sid got in the seat next to her and closed the door. The ride to the Grille was silent but not uncomfortable.

[Y/N] was grateful that her family did not push her to share more about what's been going on with Jason and her. Not much happened for her to talk about anyway… not yet, at least.

—————

*read next part here!

ps: i gave the reader/ofc’s family names because it was getting a little difficult to keep up with the abbreviations. sorry for any inconvenience!

[redrose10]

Here is alternate angst ending number 1. This is how Cinnamon & Vanilla was initially planned to end before I went in a different happier direction. For this to make sense basically forget that chapter 17 and the proposal happened and chapter 16 ended with Suri getting arrested and Mia coming back into the picture (I hope that makes sense). I will post the other angst, but less angsty version next.

WARNINGS: Very small hint of smut, cheating, character death, funeral, allusions to suicide, a suicide note, swearing. Please proceed with caution if any of these things are hard for you. There will be a second alternate ending posted next that is less harsh if you’d rather read that.

Word Count: 2,257

You watched your father-in-law slam his fists down on the large oak table. “I will not stand for this Yoongi.”, he shouted. Across the table your husband smirked, his mistress Mia, sat next to him with a sly smile.

“Father, there’s nothing you can do or say to change my mind. I am divorcing Y/N and will marry Mia. I’m done being used as a pawn for your corporate gains.”

After Mia and Yoongi were reintroduced they became inseparable. Or it was more like Yoongi was infatuated with his former love thinking he could finally have the life he always dreamed with her, but all she wanted was his money and famous last name. You and everyone else could see it except for him.

His father scoffed, “You think this woman loves you? Yoongi, she left you once before. What makes you think she won’t do it again? I thought you were smarter than this. Y/N cares for you, more than she should in my opinion. She’s done more for you than most and will be a good companion.”

You looked over and made eye contact with your husband. His eyes softened, but yours turned cold. In your mind your relationship was irreparable. The first few weeks after meeting Mia he tried to pretend like nothing was going on, but you saw the signs. The purple marks on his skin that he tried to hide. The faint scent of a floral perfume that would surround him when he got home in the middle of the night. It all came forward when one day you stopped by his office to drop off some lunch. When you knocked on the door you heard a loud thud and some shuffling and when you pushed open the same door you found him in his chair slightly out of breath with his hair ruffled like someone’s hands had been running through it. When he stood up to thank you for the lunch the zipper of his dress pants was noticeably still pulled down. You knew in that moment that you were done and you were no longer going to try to even pretend to save the marriage.

Jin happily helped you build a case against his former friend rounding up all the proof of the infidelity on Yoongi’s side so that hopefully you could get your in laws to agree to a divorce. You were surprised when it seemed that Yoongi had beat you to it and that’s how you ended up here.

Yoongi cleared his throat bringing you back to the present. “Y/n and I are divorcing. I broke my part of the contract therefore she can be the one to file. It’s not up for discussion.”, he spoke.

Mr. Min turned red with anger as he watched Yoongi walk towards the door hand intertwined with Mia’s.

“Yoongi, if you walk out of here with that woman you are no longer considered a son to me. You will step down as CEO and you will loose all access to any of the family money. You will loose the houses and cars. Everything! And don’t you dare come running back when that gold digger leaves you again.”, Mr.Min was out of breath and red in the face. You were getting worried for his health nervous he would have a heart attack. Yoongi continued to walk out the door pulling Mia behind him. She now appeared to be hesitant after Mr. Mins threats. You’re soon to be ex father-in-law gave you a small nod before walking out the same door. Jin who had been silently sitting next to you the whole time squeezed your hand, “Don’t worry Y/N, you’ll have the best divorce lawyer in Seoul.” You smiled trying to hide your pain.

Jin wasn’t kidding either. The divorce was quick and simple. Yoongi seemed to want to be done with everything as fast as possible. You got a very large sum of money plus one of the penthouses and a couple cars in exchange for keeping quiet and not going to the media about anything that happened between you and the Mins. You ended up selling the cars and the penthouse, instead buying a cute apartment just outside the city that was much more your taste. You kept some of the money as a savings and then donated a chunk to various charities that were close to you.

At the paper signing Yoongi barely acknowledged you which you appreciated. As you watched him sign the papers signaling the end of your marriage you felt a strange heaviness in your heart, but you were determined to not let the darkness of Min Yoongi follow you. You did your best to move on and leave that part of your life behind you. Getting a job and making some new friends. You did your best to create your new normal.

It was late one evening when you sat at your kitchen table replaying the last few years in your head. Startling in surprise when you felt a hand on your shoulder you turned to find your fiancé Hoseok or Hobi as you started calling him when you two met up in Korea after he’d quit his waitressing job at the beach hotel and moved back home. “Sorry love, I didn’t mean to scare you.”, he said placing a kiss on the top of your head before taking a seat at the table next to you.

“It’s okay. I was just thinking.”, you chuckled.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Shaking your head you poured him a glass of water.

“It was a really beautiful service.”, he spoke.

“Yeah it sure was.”, you said trying to suppress the tears.

“It was surprising that his parents showed up. I know not many people thought they would. Seeing Jimin and Jungkook there was nice too.”, he said. All you could do was nod in agreement.

“Well I’m gonna head off to bed. Don’t stay up too late and come get me if you need anything”, he sighed before leaning in for another kiss which you happily reciprocated.

After he walked into the bedroom and you were sure you heard the door close you pulled out the envelope Jin had given to you after the funeral. Your name written beautifully on the front.

Not long after your divorce was finalized Mr.Min stayed true to his word. Yoongi was forcefully removed as CEO of Min Enterprises. He was cut off from all the family money and was only left with what he had already earned. It didn’t take long for Mia to go through what he had left. When she realized that she wasn’t going to be living the lavished life of a billionaires wife she was fast to leave him. Quickly marrying the son of some Australian cattle farming tycoon. Jimin had quit working for Yoongi not long after he started dating Mia exclusively. He swore it had nothing to do with you and that he just got a higher paying less stressful offer elsewhere, but you knew better. Jin quit working with Yoongi and Min Enterprises instead opting to open his own law firm. Even Jungkook had quit and took a job in Los Angeles leaving Yoongi all alone. Yoongi’s parents refused to let him back into the company, but they did start funneling him a little money here and there to keep him afloat as that was better than your famous son being homeless.

You did worry about him no matter how hard you tried not to, even contemplating reaching out to him a few times, but you were worried it would only make it worse for the both of you. It seemed like every morning you were waking up to a new story or video of him belligerently drunk, getting in fights, leaving clubs with multiple women. He was completely off the rails again and didn’t seem to have a care in the world anymore. The last video you saw of him he looked like a zombie. You knew he must’ve been living off of whiskey and cigarettes at that point and it was only a matter of time until something bad happened.

Then one morning last week you got the call. Jin was on the other end and you could just tell by the way his breathing was uneven that he didn’t have good news. He didn’t have much info, but promised to call you with the details of the funeral as soon as he knew them.

When you arrived at the church you were greeted by Jimin and Jungkook the two wrapping you in a hug. Mr. And Mrs. Min said hello and congratulated you on your new engagement. When you finally made your way over to Jin he smiled, “They found this on his bed. Has your name on it.” Gently you took the letter placing it in your bag for now as the service was about to begin.

Now back at your apartment you sat at the kitchen table staring down at the envelope. With shaking hands you gently unfolded the paper. Some parts were a little smudged thanks to the ink getting wet and drying again. A detail that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you. A small sob escaping you as you thought about what Yoongi must have been thinking in that moment. You took a deep breath and began to read,

“Dear Y/N,

If you are reading this then it means that everything went according to my plan. I guess I just have some things I want to get off my chest and admittedly I’m too much of a coward to say them to your face or even to call you. Plus, I know if I hear your voice I’ll change my mind about this. First I want to apologize. I know I’ve done that a lot and never seemed to really mean it, but I am sorry for everything. You never deserved any of this from the start. You deserved to fall in love with someone that was capable of truly loving you back, but that couldn’t be me when I didn’t even love myself. Someone who would be there to take care of you emotionally and physically. I regret that I could never grow up and be that person. I heard that you are engaged. Congratulations. I hope that he takes care of you well and makes you as happy as you deserve.

I have reached a point in my life that is just so low I don’t think I could ever recover. What even is the point of life anyways? I guess I’ll never know. I don’t know what went wrong either. I was once a happy kid who loved music and basketball, who wanted to travel the world, who wanted to get married and have a bunch of kids. Now I’m sitting in my bathtub alone with a bottle of cheap whiskey writing a letter to a woman I never loved, but can’t get out of my head. They say you never know what you have until it’s gone. I always thought that was a bullshit excuse that people used to make themselves feel better about their choices, but I now know that it’s true. You were the best thing that could ever happen to me and I threw it all away. You were loving and kind, generous and thoughtful, loyal. You were so much when all I did was try to hurt you. I am truly sorry. I hope that your life brings you everything you’ve ever wanted and one day you’ll completely forget the name Min Yoongi. But until then I hope that maybe hearing or speaking my name won’t bring such disgust to your tongue. Maybe in the next life we can try this again. Take care of yourself Y/N.

Best regards,

Yoongi”

By the time you were done the letter was soaked with your own tears. You folded up the paper and put it back in the envelope before gently placing it in the kitchen drawer. Your heart broke for the man that was hurting so badly. You felt a slight pain of guilt that maybe there was something else you could’ve done, but in the end no one was able to help him. You were thankful for Hobi who came into your life like a big ray of sunshine bringing light and warmth. You smiled as you placed his coat in the closet, his cologne still strong with the smell of jasmine quickly surrounding you and reminding you of the new chapter of your life.

Turning to walk to the bedroom a piece of paper laying on the kitchen floor caught your eye. It wasn’t there earlier so you figured it must’ve fallen out of the envelope from Yoongi when you opened it. Shuffling over to pick it up you started laughing as you read it over,

“Thanks to your generous donation to Perry’s Sheep Farm we are able to continue rescuing sheep in need across the world. As a special thanks please see the attached photo of one of our sheep that your generous gift has helped.”

“He just couldn’t let this fucking sheep thing go.”, you chuckled. You shook your head letting out another laugh as you pulled out the Polaroid. As hard as you tried you couldn’t prevent the tears from flowing once again as you fell to the floor clutching the photos to your chest. Smiling back at you in the photo was a big fluffy sheep with a bright pink bow on the side of her head. The lettering across the bottom said, ‘Petunia’, written in Yoongi’s handwriting. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you swore you could detect the faintest hint of cinnamon and vanilla in the air.

[jentrovert]

Time Marches On

(Richard Cameron X Fem Reader)

Oneshot

Synopsis: After the death of Neil Perry, your brother Knox brings you to one last poet’s meeting. As a falling out with Richard Cameron ensues, you seem to be the only one capable of seeing his side of things.

Warnings: Talk of suicide, death, grieving, mention of firearms, arguing, swearing, minor violence, a kiss, angst with a semi-happy ending.

｡ﾟ •┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡ *

Author’s Note: Based on the movie Dead Poets Society, but obviously a bit different. Reader is about a year younger than Knox, and is referred to by she/her pronouns. It’s difficult to be neutral for every appearance and capability, but I do try to be pretty general. Let me know if you see anything to the contrary. Thanks, guys. X

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Neil was gone. It was easy to say, impossible to process. On paper, he was dead; mentally, it just wasn’t true. He was still around, you’d see him tomorrow, or maybe over spring break when he and your brother would dare each other to go swimming in the frigid water. Everything was fine; everything was normal. Until it finally got quiet, the night you sat in the dining room after his funeral, shivering under a blanket by the radiator. Everyone had excused themselves to their own rooms for the night. Even watching your older brother sob, which you seldom witnessed, you managed to keep it together. Only once the silence crept in, engulfing the room and everything around you, screaming in your ears to be heard, did you finally crack.

 

First it was one tear, then three, and then before you knew it, you were a broken mess on the floor. The winter cold seeped through the old walls of your childhood home, bitter and unforgiving of your circumstances. A cruel reminder that the world wouldn’t stop after this, on the contrary, it would keep hurling at you just as harshly as it had before.

 

You hadn’t been the closest friend of Neil Perry, but he’d known your brother for years and had become something of an honorary brother by that point. It was easy to picture their group of poets, affectionately called “dorks” by you, all joking and picking at one another as they always did, huddled up in their quaint little cave that you’d been invited to on a handful of occasions. They were happy and smiling, filled with admiration for each other as they read off their newest theatrical composition. They were poems that bestowed hope to each boy, giving them the promise of an eventful, passionate future. You hadn’t admitted it at the time, not in front of your brother, but it gave you hope as well.

 

“Why?”

It repeated itself on a frustrating loop in your mind.

 

Didn’t Neil love his friends? Weren’t they worth living for? Didn’t he know how dreadfully you’d all miss the boy?

 

You were aware of how selfish those questions sounded out loud. It wasn’t about any of you; you knew that. And part of you wanted to wring Thomas Perry for the way he treated his own son. He’d failed him in every way a parent could. You wanted to blame everyone that ever wronged your brother’s friend, but deep down, you knew the thing that had pushed Neil toward the decision he made was bigger than all of you. You didn’t know if you felt more helpless wondering what you could have done to save him or by considering that there was nothing anybody could have done at all. A small part of you wanted to feel angry with Neil, angry at the state he’d left you all in, but you knew that was just as ridiculous, too.

 

It was incomprehensible. He looked so great in that play the night he died, and so excited to do what he loved. You were all so proud of him. You would’ve hugged him so much tighter if you’d known it was the final time.

 

The struggle of trying to keep quiet in the late night made you cry even harder. You considered each of Neil’s schoolmates, how they were probably doing the exact same thing you were, and how they definitely had more of a right to cry than you did.

The image of Neil with a gun in his hand continued to claw and tear its way into your brain regardless of how much you struggled to shove it away. You didn’t want to see it; you just wanted him to put it down. You wanted it so bad that you started mumbling it aloud. You begged God, you begged the universe, you pleaded with anything that would listen, but no one answered, and you knew no one ever would.

 

Before you realized it, you were fast asleep on the linoleum, and unbeknownst to you, Knox had placed a pillow by your head and two extra blankets over your body whilst you slept, unsure if he should disturb your slumber or not. In the early morning hours, you found what your brother had done and immediately knew the culprit. There was no doubt it your mind Knox hadn’t slept at all that night.

You smiled faintly into your pillow, grateful that your brother always made the effort to care for you, even in his own strife. Sure, you made fun of him constantly, but you loved him a lot, and you did miss him when he was away at boarding school. You loved his friends, too. You wanted nothing more than to take all of their grief away and make everything better, but it didn’t work like that. You were powerless in the situation.

Not long after that, you learned that Knox’s friend Charlie Dalton had also gotten expelled from the school they attended. You were shocked, to say the least. It was the last thing those boys needed to lose another friend. When probed, your brother informed you that Charlie had actually attacked one of their other friends, Cameron. Apparently it had something to do with a lie Cameron told, and it had really crossed the rest of them. Now, you knew Cameron, and you knew Charlie. You also knew that they liked to bicker back and forth, mainly because their personalities differed so significantly, but nothing too major. Charlie was an avid rule-breaker, and Cameron was terrified to stray away from the straight line he always walked.

 

“Hey, (Y/n)?” Came your brother’s voice, along with a weak knock on your open bedroom door.

 

You looked up at him in acknowledgment, turning away from the blank schoolwork in front of you.

 

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. “We’re having our last poet meeting with Charlie.”

 

You blinked at him, fighting the painful lump that formed in your throat. “Oh” was all you managed to croak.

 

“If you’d like to come with me…”

 

With a shaky breath, you nodded, standing from your desk. “Let me get my coat.”

 

There was a heavy weight on your shoulders as you trudged through mounds of snow. The turns were familiar; the same branches snapped under your feet. It was equal parts haunting and comforting to see the cave coming into view. Once inside, you weaved around rocks to find your usual spot. You offered firm hugs and empathetic smiles to each of the boys who’d already arrived, taking extra time for Todd, who sat off to the side. You hadn’t known Todd for long, as it was his first year at Welton, but strangely enough, he actually seemed to have gained some confidence since the last time you met. You’d honestly expected the opposite, given how close he was to Neil, but you were proud of him nonetheless. You were proud of them all, and you let them know such.

 

Everyone mingled half-heartedly with one another, doing their best to raise the spirits a bit. You finally managed to question one of them about their English teacher, whom you hadn’t known as well as they did, but knew their dead poet society was founded by his encouragement. Just as Pitts was about to answer, Charlie came strolling into the cave, and everyone turned their attention to him.

 

“Alright, we’re all here, I guess,” He stated, barely loud enough to hear, keeping his hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets as he scowled at the floor.

You could tell Knox wanted to say something to the boy, as this had been Neil’s best friend, but he didn’t. Charlie looked bitter, scorned. He didn’t bother with greetings or formality as he took a seat on a rock near the entrance.

 

Knitting your brows, you peered around at each of them, then back to Charlie.

 

“What about… Cameron?”

 

“What about him?” He barked, gawking at you like you had grown two heads.

 

You hummed in thought, caught between not wanting to overstep and also wanting to speak your mind.

 

“Listen, Charlie,” You started carefully, gripping at your jacket hem, “I know that you’re angry-“

 

“Angry?” He cut you off. “Angry? That lying bastard wasn’t invited, (Y/n).”

 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” You quipped.

 

“Then what are you so confused about?”

 

It was almost comical the way the rest of the boys’ heads went back and forth between you as you squabbled. Your brother attempted to interject, but you dismissed him.

 

“I know he messed up, Charlie-”

 

“He didn't 'mess up’… He got our only role model, the only support we had, thrown out! As if we weren’t grieving enough!” Charlie gestured to the people around the room.

 

Your jaw clenched. “Stop interrupting me. I know what you think happened, but Cameron is grieving too.”

 

You’d known Charlie for a long time. The two of you butted heads in the past over trivial things, as he had a habit of deliberately trying to work your nerves, but it was never like this. Emotions were at an all-time high; that part was clear.

 

“Think? (Y/n), you weren’t even there; I know what happened!” His volume grew with each word he spoke, hair falling over his eyes.

 

You could feel heat rising in you from anger, a stark contrast to the freezing air around you. “Charlie, Cameron is a teenager who freaked out and made a bad decision. I really think you’re all dog piling him.”

 

“He got me expelled!” Charlie’s face turned a deep shade of red as he shouted, each syllable emphasized by the fog of his breath and an echo off the cave walls.

 

“Are you joking?" You jutted a finger at him. "You got yourself kicked out!”

 

Charlie looked fiercely taken aback for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it. “Are you saying we shouldn't be pissed off at him for what he did to us? What he did to Keating?”

 

“I didn’t say your anger wasn’t justified, but for God’s sake, nobody put puppet strings on you and forced you to hit Cameron! I’m sorry you have to leave Welton, but that was dumb as hell, Charlie. Don’t you realize that all of you and Keating might’ve gotten kicked out if Cameron hadn’t blamed him?”

 

The rest of the group exchanged looks, completely at a loss. None appeared to handle this kind of confrontation well.

 

Charlie’s feet were heavy as he stood, his voice much lower but still venomous. “Why the hell are you defending him like this? Are you two shagging or something?”

 

You took a sharp inhale at the accusation, gaping at the male in front of you. You glanced over at the other poets, whose cheeks were collectively warm with embarrassment.

 

“Are you kidding me, Dalton? Look, just because you can’t do anything remotely nice for the opposite sex without getting something out of it, doesn’t mean the rest of us function that way,” You snapped.

 

“You know what?” He scoffed. “You weren’t even part of this group, you were just a tag-a-long for your goddamn brother.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Guys, please!” Your brother shouted, looking so distressed he might cry.

 

Charlie was unfazed, and turned to lean against a rock.

 

“She and her boyfriend started it,” He shrugged, cold as the Vermont frost outside.

 

You knew this wasn’t Charlie. He was hurt, mourning the gaping hole now present in his heart. He wasn’t angry at you, not even Cameron for the most part; he was angry that Neil had been taken from them; he was angry at the world. Even so, it still stung.

 

“You know, Charles,” You muttered, starting toward the exit. “You can point fingers in every direction you want, but it won’t change a damn thing about what happened.”

 

Knox tried to grab your arm, but you shook him away, pivoting to face Charlie one more time. “Have fun at your new school.”

 

With that, you briskly made your way back toward Welton, listening to the arguing between Knox and Charlie fade behind you. You hated what death could bring out in people. On one hand, you understood their anger toward Cameron, but on the other hand, you knew there was more to the story than that. Cameron was devastated just like they were, and now completely iced out by the people he had left.

You knew how much all the boys looked up to Charlie, and due to his discrepancies with Cameron, you were aware of how the rest of the group tended to treat him. Their loyalty lied with Charlie, no matter what. Even Knox would roll his eyes and get annoyed with the youngest boy, but you understood Cameron better than that. He was a kid who’d been conditioned to do everything by the book, to never oppose an authority figure, and to fear all the adults around him at all times. It was something the rest of them usually couldn’t comprehend.

You chose to take Charlie’s words with a grain of salt. Eventually you would reconcile. Though he was partially right, however; you weren’t an official part of their society; you didn’t even attend Welton. He also wasn’t wrong about your infatuation with Richard Cameron. You were closer in age, and you actually got along quite well. You were the only one capable of persuading him to sneak out on nights he was being particularly stubborn. Meeks had teased that “Of course a pretty girl is what convinces Cameron to break the rules,” which made everyone but him erupt into laughter. You’d spent most poetry meetings exchanging fleeting glances and casual touches, ones that went undetected by the rest of the group. It was something that never really got the opportunity for discussion.

 

You were so lost in thought you almost didn’t notice the solemn redhead sitting on Welton Academy’s front stoop. Just as you reached the parking lot, you saw him from your peripheral; his head hung low as he absentmindedly fidgeted with something in his hands. After taking a second to look back in the direction you’d come, you ultimately decided to approach him. You weren’t sure if he even wanted to talk, but you were certainly itching to. Once he caught sight of you, he rose from his spot, expression a mix of relief and guilt. He was happy to see you, you could tell that much, but it was obvious he also feared what you might be getting ready to say to him.

 

As you opened your mouth to greet the boy, the next step you took was immediately met with a patch of ice that caused you to tumble forward. You shrieked in surprise, arms flying forward to brace your body for impact. However, Cameron was quick to catch you. He grunted at the initial collision but was graceful at steadying you back on your feet, only after holding you in place for a brief moment.

 

“You okay?” He murmured, gazing at you with eyes that seemed heavy and tired—the kind of tired people your age shouldn’t know.

 

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine; thank you, Cameron,” You stammered, trying and failing to collect yourself under his watchfulness.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

You nodded shyly. “I appreciate it. I would’ve eaten that concrete if it weren’t for you.”

 

He chuckled under his breath, managing a small smile. That’s when you noticed the purple ring around one of his otherwise bright emerald eyes.

 

“Cameron!” You gasped, taking his face in your hands, which caught him off guard. “Oh… Your poor eye.”

 

His face was already flushed from the cold, but it spread as you inspected him closely from different angles. You grimaced at the injury, shooting him a sympathetic look that made him shake his head at you.

 

“It’s fine, (Y/n). I deserved it.”

 

You released your grip with a huff. “That’s not true.”

 

He looked at you as if that were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Yes, it is. I'm sure you know what I did.”

 

The shame in his voice made your shoulders drop, and you placed a hand on the boy’s forearm.

 

“Cameron…”

 

“Neil was the one who took me in, introduced me to everyone.” He studied the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “And I… I got his best friend kicked out. I got his favorite teacher fired. I made all his friends miserable. That's what I did for him in return."

 

You examined him for a moment—the way his lip quivered as he wrestled with the urge to cry. He looked away, hiding his face.

“I wrote a poem for him.”

You looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hand. “Cam-”

 

“I don’t know why I did it, (Y/n). I don’t. I loved Mr. Keating. I thought that’s what I was supposed to say. The way they spoke to me… I didn’t want to let anyone down; I panicked. I didn’t want us all to get expelled or something- Mr. Nolan, he- I didn’t want to…”

 

You could tell by the way his voice was cracking that he’d begun to cry, and you ran your thumb over his arm to try and comfort him. It was disturbing to see so many people in your life crumbling like that, and even more so knowing there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and drew him in for a tight embrace.

 

“Cameron…” You spoke softly. “Nolan manipulated you. He's an asshole. He needed someone to blame besides himself, and he wanted it to be John Keating. So he picked out the one student he knew was under his thumb and fed you what to say. A vulnerable kid he knew would fold at the thought of disappointing him. He’s the bad guy in all this, not you. Him and Tom Perry. It was never you.”

 

Cameron looked up at you with glassy eyes as you pulled away. You couldn’t tell if he believed what you were saying or not. He didn't respond one way or the other.

 

“Why are you still here?” You wondered suddenly. It dawned on you that most of Welton's students had left for the holiday already.

 

Cameron’s eyes drifted downward again, his voice almost a whisper. “I asked my mother if I could go back and visit after Neil…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “She told me that she and my father didn’t pay tuition just so I could leave all the time.”

 

“That’s all she said to you?”

You were perplexed.

 

“They just want me to be good and focus on school,” He added, almost as if it were normal.

 

“Oh, Cam,” You nearly broke down crying yourself.

 

None of these boys deserved to be treated this way, not at all.

 

Your fingers trailed up to his chin and lightly directed him to face you. A single tear spilled over his lashes, which he hurried to wipe away.

 

“I shouldn’t have told on Charlie. I screwed up. I screwed up badly.”

 

You contemplated how a mother could hear her young son under such duress and not rush to his aid. It was the least they could do to comfort their own child, who now had no one to turn to. For a split second, you worried if Cameron would ever have the same thoughts that Neil did, and the idea terrified you.

 

“I want you to understand you’re worth so much more than that mistake. Even after everything, I bet Keating still believes in you. In fact, I know he does. And if Neil were here-” You took a breath. “He wouldn’t hold it against you for long. I'm confident in that.”

 

Cameron offered a fragile, half-cocked smile.

 

“They’ll forgive you one day,” You continued. “I know how bad it feels right now, but you need each other. And once you’re done with this school, you’ll go on and do amazing things, because you’re too smart not to.”

 

Neither of you realized the way you gradually began to lean in closer as you spoke.

 

“You’ll grow up, become even more handsome, then probably have a family or run a business, and never have to think about some of these people again.”

 

“You really think that?” He uttered, trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

 

You were close enough then to run a hand through his ginger strands of hair, your other hand finding purchase on the back of his neck. It wasn’t clear whether you were feeling bold or just emotionally vulnerable, but it seemed to surprise you both equally. You’d been way too nervous to try anything like it previously, but now you understood how short life truly was, and you weren’t going to waste any more of it.

 

“(Y/n),” He hesitated, looking worried. “You should probably go. I really don’t deserve…”

 

“Yes, you do.”

"But... Why?"

You beamed at him with the most playfulness you’d mustered up in days. “Carpe Diem?”

 

After staring at you shortly, he reciprocated the sentiment, and gently pressed his lips to yours. His hands found the most respectful place they could on your waist, although a bit shaky and unsure. The feeling was foreign and somewhat awkward at first, but you wouldn’t have changed it. It was a soft and simple kiss, one that gave you butterflies. The moment didn’t last very long, but it was plenty for the time being.

 

When you finally pulled back, Cameron looked like a deer in headlights, to which you couldn’t help but giggle. You marveled at the pattern of freckles dotting his scarlet cheeks, unconsciously reaching to brush your fingertips over them. You could feel the dry tears that lingered there. He relaxed under your touch, and with a newfound bravery, he tilted his head and gave the palm of your hand a light peck. You savored each other’s company, content to stand out in the elements as long as you could hold onto that comfort for a moment. It was all the validation you needed.

 

“Maybe not today or tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now, but everything is going to be alright. I promise.” You leaned and gently took the paper from Cameron’s grasp. “Now let’s go read this for Neil.”

 

And he trusted every word you said.

 

Knox was going to avoid telling Charlie what he’d accidentally stumbled upon when he went to check on you. As much as he wanted to murder Cameron for everything—that now involved moving in on his little sister—it was an issue that could wait for another day, he decided.

[smad-lesbian]

Can you write smth for this trope?

Like, Ronica, who is voicing out her annoyance towards the Heathers but then someone she's with in the room voices their disdain for them loudly and very obnoxiously. And Veronica who suddenly forgot she shouldn't care about them as people glares and with the most condescending voice you would ever hear from her goes "Say that again."

And the Heathers may or may not have overheard.

YES, PROTECTIVE VERONICA MY BELOVED!!!

---

Veronica grumbled as she glared down at the note in her hand.

'Come to the parking lot after school, we need to get you actual clothes bitch

-H.C'

Veronica felt a falte of annoyance as she glanced at the note again, re-reading it as if it would magically change the words.

Well, it's not like she could ditch this time, she was already "on thin ice" since the party, if she missed this Chandler might show up at her house with an ax and murderous intent.

Veronica sighed in resignation. She opened her locker, with slightly more force than was necessary, cursing under her breath as she did.

"-Exactly! She obviously only got the position because of it, it makes sense, right Ronica?"

An obnoxious voice broke Veronica out of her thoughts. Veronica whipped around, facing the source of the voice, a shorter freshman, leaning against the locker beside her own, a far too cocky expression on his face, his friend, or at least Veronica assumed was his friend, standing on his left, wearing a notably more nervous expression.

"Pardon?" Veronica asked, raising an eyebrow at the young boy, not many people came up to her these days, at least not casually, everyone had left her alone since she joined the Heathers,apart from a few football players trying to gain a quick fuck or a country club kid trying to start small talk.

"Heather McNamara, everyone knows that she only made cheer captain because she spread her legs for the coach."

…

The kid was suicidal, it was the only possible explanation of why he would spout such bullshit, surely he wasn't that fucking stupid.

Veronica felt the thin sheet of patience she had left snap as she glared daggers at the kid.

The hallway went silent.

The freshman's friend, apparently the one with the common sense, looked Sorin wildly, seemingly searching for a possible escape route. The freshman himself still had a cocky grin on his face, apparently too stupid to realize he had just written his death in stone.

Veronica put her diary back into her locker turning to face the kid fully, her height now clearly displayed as she towered over the freshman.

"Say that again, even hint at it really, and I will make your life a living hell, you will be wishing for death by the time I'm done with you, I will make sure your can never even breathe normally again," Veronica said, her voice resembling a tone that you would use on a small child, it was loud enough for the freshman, and a couple of students that were nearby, to hear.

The confidence of the kid's face crumbled, his eyes now wide with fear as he stayed in shock at Veronica's word's.

"Do you understand me?" Veronica demanded more than asked, the kid could only nod rapidly.

"Good, now leave before I tear you a new asshole," Veronica said, apparently breaking whatever spell he had been under, making the kid scramble away, his friend close behind.

Veronica glared at them until they were no longer in her line of sight. Veronica turned back to her locker, reaching for her once again for her diary.

"Aww, who knew you were so protective, Sawyer."

Veronica froze momentarily at the familiar voice, she turned around to find Heather Chandler standing just across her, a smug smile spread on her face, just behind her were Duke, who had an unreadable expression, and Mac, who was completely red in the face.

Veronica's gaze lingered on Mac, was she sick? Embarrassed because of what the Gresham had said? That last thought made Veronica want to go in the hunt for the kid and make good on her promise.

"Come on now, we still have to go to the mall after all."

[pippin-katz]

Reference To Heathers In Dead Boy Detectives

I was going through some of my notebooks and journals yesterday, and I found a composition notebook I got from a concert-style performance of Heathers: The Musical. It has yellow typewriter-style stickers on it that says the very first line of the show.

"September 1st, 1989: Dear Diary..."

My brain buffered so hard I gasped out loud. Obviously, that's the same year Charles died. At first, I was like, "Oh that's a cool coincidence!"

But then my brain went deeper, because I have seen and reblogged a piece of fanart of the Dead Boys with a caption referencing a quote from the film that was turned into a musical number: "I love my dead, gay son."

For those who are confused as hell, probably cause you're unfamiliar with the film/show, this is when I started to think it might not be a coincidence, and I'll explain why!

Brad & Hunter = Ram & Kurt

Anyone who knows Heathers is probably starting to be like, "OMG that's a great comparison!" But I'm not sure if this is just a comparison, or actually a hidden reference to Heathers.

⚠️ Warning! ⚠️ Heathers is a black comedy, also referred to as a dark comedy or morbid humor, meaning it makes light of subject matter that is generally considered taboo, particularly subjects that are normally considered serious or painful to discuss. TW: suicide, murder, attempted nonconsensual sex, homophobia Short Synopsis of Heathers: Veronica tries to join a toxic clique of three girls named Heather who rule high school. A new bad boy named Jason Dean, JD for short, arrives at the school. The two of them develop a relationship that leads to the murders and coverups of several of their incredibly toxic classmates.

(For those who want more specifics, to better understand the movie, keep reading. For those who don't need or want to read it, skip down to where the text turns back to the end of the parathesis and the text goes back to normal size.

Veronica was a nobody, but is gradually being inducted into the Heathers group. There are three Heathers: Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, and Heather McNamara. Veronica is an excellent forger, able to replicate hand writing. JD is new to school and gets sought out at lunch by the two biggest jocks, Ram and Kurt. They try to intimidate him, but it backfires because he pulls out a handgun. He shoots at them with blank bullets, scaring the shit out of them.

JD is a deeply traumatized and troubled person due to his shitty father, and the fact that his mother committed suicide in front of him when he was a kid by entering a building she knew was about to be demolished by her husband's construction company. His view on humanity is skewed and grim, and he can get violent when provoked or angered. He believes in extreme action to a sociopathic level, in this case, removing the problematic people who are the root of the toxicity in order to make a happier society.

Veronica and JD get into a relationship after she fights with Heather Chandler at a party. They go over to her house in the morning to suck up to her, but it ends in her death (will be explained). To cover it up, Veronica forges a suicide note.

JD sees it as a win, because with her gone and the contents of her fake suicide note, everyone is starting to be nicer to each other and be more open about their feelings. Veronica is torn up because she accidentally killed her "best friend" and "worst enemy", and also sees JD's point.

It spirals from there, but that should be enough specifics of the plot and characters for you to understand the rest of the essay better, at least in the sense of the tone of the film.)

Heather Chandler, the first victim, was killed because Veronica accidentally gave her toxic sink cleaner JD had joked about giving her instead of the hangover cure they're concocting. They stage it as a suicide so they don't get in trouble, but Veronica is a bit shaken, obviously. It was an accident, at least for her; JD saw her pick up the wrong mug and chose not to tell her.

The next victim, or victims, is a pair of jocks who are the coolest guys on the football team, Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly. They sexually assault Veronica (unsuccessfully), lie about it to the school newspaper, claiming they had a threesome to humiliate her. She's upset, JD is furious, and they are the most toxic guys in the school. JD comes up with the idea to "prank" them; they'll "shoot" them and make it look like a gay suicide pact with a note and stereotypical gay items, humiliating them when they wake up. This is the '80s, so homophobia was super common.

Veronica thinks they're going to use fake bullets on them, but JD obviously lies and puts real bullets in the guns. They do the "prank", JD kills Ram, but Veronica misses Kurt. She's laughing because they scared the shit out of them, but JD chases him down to finish the job. She realizes Ram is not unconscious, but dead, and JD kills Kurt as well. They stage it as a gay suicide pact in order not to get caught, again.

A funeral is held for the two boys, and in the film, one of their father's goes up to the casket and tearfully declares he's not going to be homophobic anymore, ending with the line: "I love my dead, gay son."

A line so iconic that it got an entire musical number in the musical adaptation, with the line being the title and part of the chorus. It is absolutely hilarious.

Now, let's break that down into a simplified list:

two jocks who the coolest members on their team

said jocks have a reputation of mistreating girls

said mistreatment of girls leads to their murder

said murder is covered up by making it look like something self-induced

said murder is also committed unintentionally with the goal simply to make them unconscious

The fifth episode of Dead Boy Detectives is the same thing in a different font! Brad and Hunter were to two most popular jocks, on the baseball team rather than football team. They treated girls horribly, something Ram and Kurt were also notorious for. It's because of the way they treated Maren that they end up being killed, just like Ram and Kurt's treatment of Veronica is the cause for their deaths. Both of the murders are made to look self-induced, an intentional suicide pact for Ram and Kurt, and an accidental alcohol poisoning for Brad and Hunter. Both murders are also not intended to be murders by the girls behind them; Veronica and Maren both believe that they will only be knocking them out, not killing them.

That is a lot of specific parallels!

But what makes me even more suspicious of it being intentional is the fact that Twitchy Richie literally says, "But I also heard they died in a secret gay suicide pact."

Back in the '80s? Unfortunately somewhat common, that's why they used in Heathers. It was made in the '80s and takes place in the '80s. Veronica and JD used it because it was easy to believe, and unlikely to draw suspicion. Back then, if something looked like a suicide, complete with a forged note, props, and whatnot, they tended not to bother investigating further; that's especially believable for a gay suicide since homophobia was so high.

Now? Definitely wouldn't be one of the first explanations you would think of. If a pair of guys died in a car accident, or surfing, or an activity they are doing together, and they did not have any indicators of it being suicide and/or queer (straight dudes Brad and Hunter's alcohol poisoning), I'm pretty sure "secret gay suicide pact" would not come up in the conversation by anyone other than conspiracy theorists, or dickheads like Richie. Crystal even refers to him bringing it up and making the "giving each other hand jobs" comment as him making "gay jokes". It's not even remotely considered to be an actual theory. He said it just to be an asshole.

There's also a small correlation that the only other victim in Heathers is Heather Chandler. Of the three victims, she's the only girl, and she also "commits suicide", at least in the eyes of the public. There is a third death relating to Brad and Hunter's case: Shelby. She's the singular female victim who actually commits suicide.

That is just too many similarities and parallels for it to be a coincidence, right? This all has to be an intentional nod to Heathers, right??

(ko-fi)

[wicked-futures]

Project Minx [One]

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word-Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Misogynist creeps, Drug use

Summary: You are sent on a solo mission to track a rouge scientist to his supposed home base where he distributes drugs.

Notes: Since this is the first chapter, there is no Ghost yet... Sorry babes.

Read on AO3

People lined the street waiting to get into the club, most in varying states of intoxication. You felt out of place, not having been to a place like this in many years. The so-called ‘dress’ you were wearing did nothing to help. It was just a small piece of black fabric that left very little to the imagination. It made you feel incredibly exposed, even with the years of training you had stashed under your belt.

Somehow, you still had a pistol and a knife strapped onto your body. A chill breeze suddenly hit you, causing goosebumps to spread. A New York club in the dead of winter was not your forte, and you wanted to get this mission done as soon as possible.

The outside of “The Den” seemed like any other stereotypical dance club in the area. A basic black brick building, accompanied by blacked-out windows. Loud bass could be heard from the outside, which made you cringe internally. The constant loud background noise would make it hard for you to focus at points, especially when trying to listen to intel from your team.

Anything to get your paycheck and leave, maybe finally to take a vacation. After years of being under different contracts with different agencies, you were exhausted from the work. Yet you felt guilty for wanting to take that break since there was always another problem to be fixed. Always someone fucking up the world for the rest of everyone.

This time, it was a rouge Russian scientist. Dmitri Volkov, also known as “Wolf” had specialized in pharmaceutical sciences with their military. His career was spent researching different ways to make pain medications work faster for those on the field, and ways to help with shock. A year prior, he completely dropped off the radar.

Many ruled it suicide, but a body was never found. Authorities searched his labs, he was gone without a trace. Even odder, so was all of his working gear. Shortly after, people in the party scene in Russia started mass ODing. The drug was never found in people's systems, yet clear signs of overdosing were shown on their bodies.

Different groups sent in decoys to find the drug, or find any information on it. The off-white powder was sold in small baggies, with a wolf emblem etched onto them. Not many were aware of the ties of the ‘dead’ scientist and the drug, but that was where you fit in. It was your job to scope out the aptly named party club, “The Den.” As a partygoer, it was your job to weasel your way into the underground system. You needed to be trusted by the higher-ups and get to Volkov.

“Minx, do you copy?” The hidden earpiece spoke, jolting you from the surprise. The familiar voice of your partner helped with the nerves. Jessica Salvatore had been one of the only females in your basic training, and you stook together ever since. Even when you took the solo route when she found out you were involved with a mission, so was she.

Friends were rare to come by with your lifestyle, so you never took Jessica for granted. She knew you liked working alone but somehow weaseled her way into your ‘team’ and your life. 

“Affirmative, waiting for the club to open up. I’m freezing my tits out here Jess,” You heard a chuckle coming from the other side of the comms, making you roll your eyes. She wasn’t the one in stilettos outside a club, dressed sluttier than you ever had been in your life. Even during your party days, the outfits had never been this extreme.

“I can see you, by the way, don’t forget I also have a job to do,” She mentioned, and you could practically hear the sarcastic grin in her voice. By her words, you could bet the security cam system of the club was well into your team's possession by now.

If there is one thing Jessica “Cybernaut” Salvatore was known for was her expertise in computer systems and hacking. She spent most of her teenage years behind a screen, cracking codes and creating her own. She took interest in using her skills for military use instead of becoming an IT or whatnot. You thought that was blasphemous, as Jessica could be well off by now.

But that wasn’t her lifestyle, and neither was it yours. You were never that phenomenally interested in anything during high school, drifting from club to club. Granted you weren’t terrible at them either, but nothing ever stuck. All you know is you wanted to help people, and you were also extremely competitive. An existential crisis hit halfway through senior year, and you ended up joining the military.

You quickly found out what you had been missing all those years. Learning how to fight and use weapons filled some holes you had been missing in your life. With that newfound knowledge, you pushed yourself year after year. After thousands of hours of practice, your combat skills improved tremendously. You became a lethal weapon, paired with a pretty face. 

After a while, you got bored of it all. You needed a change in scenery, a different job perhaps. Multiple groups took interest in you, but you decided to be a lone contractor by yourself. This meant you picked what missions you went on, who to help, and when. It was stressful, especially with the high risks.

Most days you didn’t know if you were going to make it home alive. 

The name “Minx” was slapped onto you during one of your first missions. The name seemed stupid to you at first, even sexist. Yet, you learned to love it once you realized how you could use your beauty as a weapon. Deciding to not let it get to you, you knew the name had a double meaning. It was just a part of you, alluring yet dangerous.

You noticed the line starting to move, which made your nerves inch up a little bit. A lot was riding on your shoulders tonight, and you wanted to prove yourself. 

The height of your heel seemed lethal enough, you were surprised you could even walk in them. After most of your life spent in combat boots, tall stilettos were a massive change. Your feet hurt a little, but the cold numbed them slightly which you were thankful for. 

With the line moving, you could finally see the door to the club in front of you. You mentally went through all of the goals in your brain, making sure everything was sorted. You focused on what you needed to do, turning off the rest of your brain. The coldness and nervousness drifted away as you were put into a focused headspace.

The bouncer scanned your ID, making sure everything matched. There was no way he was going to know it was a fake, especially since it was made by some form of government. You didn’t care who you were working with, a job was a job. As long as you worked for the ‘good’ guys, all was well. You shot him an excited smile, hoping to play the part of a partygoer well. The bouncer glanced at your body before giving the ID back, shooting a creepy smile in your direction.

“Don’t have too much fun,” He winked, a flirty tone to his voice. You tried not to cringe at the man, instead nodding at him. A quick thanks was muttered from you, and then you were off. The club was already packed when you entered, people crowded in every nook and cranny. You thanked whatever god there was that you were trained for this type of situation, and knew what to do in case hell broke loose.

You took a spot at the bar and instantly looked around the club. The whole thing was very cliche, and looked like any other bar in New York. Ordering some random cocktail off of the menu, you did your best to blend in with the crowd. While mentally taking note of every possible exit, you noticed what looked like a regular partygoer come out of an unmarked door. It might have been innocent, but it piqued your interest anyway.

“Pick up the pace Minx, we haven't got all night.” A voice spoke into your earpiece. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, you couldn’t get the whole mission done in five minutes.

Finishing your drink, you decided to join the crowd on the dance floor. You needed to see this drug in action, and what its users looked like. The dance floor met you with people who were visibly intoxicated by either drugs or alcohol. A woman in front of you was dancing by herself, filling the air with giggles. The flashing lights and loud music obscured her appearance from you, but when you caught a glimpse of her it was hard to not stare.

She noticed you watching her after a moment, turning to face you as she smiled. The woman looked like a corpse who had wandered onto the dance floor. Her ghastly pale skin seemed as though it was going to flake off any moment, and her eyes were incredibly sunken in. Even with the state of her appearance, the woman looked like she was having the time of her life.

Her eyes seemed lively yet so incredibly dead at the same time, the stark contrast threatening shivers down your spine. She was a living zombie, as were many others around her. You looked away for a moment, noticing many others that looked exactly like her. A piece of your brain clicked, remembering the symptoms of those on the drug.

Whatever was in this drug was killing people from the inside out.

“You’re really pretty, what's your name?” The corpse woman slurred, her uncomforting stare meeting yours. You smiled in return, giving her your fake name for the night. She told you her name was Becca, and she invited you to dance for a while.

“Are you bored?” She asked, her drugged gaze freezing you in your place. You nodded in response, hoping this was the lead you needed. Becca took your hand into her cold and clammy one, yanking you off of the dance floor. The earpiece you wore crackled to life again as you were whisked around the club.

“Do what she says, we’ll get you out of there if need be,” Jessica spoke, the farewell message leaving a sour note on your tongue. You decided to ignore it and noticed the woman brought you to the unmarked door you saw earlier. She turned around and opened the door, ushering you in. 

The pitch-black stairway was lined with rainbow LEDs, switching between different colors. You thanked the lights for being there as you tottered down the stairs, being led by Becca. For a moment, you let your mind wander. You wondered what the young girl's life was like, especially before she got hooked on the drug. Did she have a family? A significant other? Did she abandon it all for her addiction? The thought gave you goosebumps, and you immediately went back on track

“So what have you done before?” Becca asked when you entered the basement. The whole thing was massive, looking like a whole separate club. The landscape was different, giving off a much darker vibe. The people in the basement also looked different from the rest of the clubgoers, many of them visibly rich.

“Not much, I did coke once if that counts,” You responded, trying to seem interested in the whole ordeal. It was hard to focus on the girl in front of you when there was a whole black market happening in front of you, the dangerous drugs being passed around like candy.

“This is gonna be so much better,” Becca smiled at you, and chills ran down your back. Her uneasy stare, her lifeless eyes, she looked soulless. Becca held out her hand to you before waving a man over, expecting you to pay. You pulled a twenty out of your bra and gave it to her as she grinned, visibly excited for her next hit. 

She exchanged with the man, giving you the small tablet. The size of the drug was concerning, it was minuscule. It was shocking to you how small it was, and how much damage that tiny thing could do. Remembering what Jessica said, you hesitantly took the drug. You knew there were about five minutes before it started setting in, so you had to get out as soon as possible. 

The last thing you remembered of that night was feeling incredibly nauseous and dizzy.

“Good morning,” A voice called from a few feet away as you finally came too. You felt as if you got hit by a semi-truck, maybe a few of them. A migraine ravaged your head, and the rest of your body felt like sludge.

“They did some tests on your blood, there's some scary shit in that drug Minx.” Flickering your eyes to the voice, you noticed Jess was sitting next to you while typing on a computer. She had a bunch of her gear and overall looked exhausted. You reckoned that you probably looked worse, having been drugged.

You didn’t ask questions about how you got out of the club, but you also didn’t care since you made it out safely. There were other objectives to worry about, like Volkov himself. He was never shown inside the club, even though that was tipped off as his headquarters. The scientist was smart, he could’ve been anywhere. 

You were disappointed in yourself for not finding out more information other than securing the drug itself. It felt as if there was more you could’ve done, more contributions you could’ve added. Sitting silent in the bed for a moment, you contemplated what was going to happen next.

With security cam footage and audio recordings to back you up, you could prove how big of an issue the drug was becoming. After the testing, it was clear what was in the drug itself and how it was so addictive and dangerous. Jessica typed on her computer for a little while longer, leaving the room in silence. You assumed she was finishing the review on the mission, letting the higher-ups know you were alive and well. She sighed as she heard her phone buzzing, excusing herself into the hallway for a second.

Hospitals were nothing new to you, a painful memory of a life before. Nights spent sobbing next to a bed, praying to whatever god would listen. When your mother died, a piece of you died with her. You just hoped she was proud of what you made of yourself.

“I’ve got news for you,” Jessica re-entered the room with a grim expression on her face. You expected something extremely bad or unfortunate based on the last 24 hours.

“Higher-ups think this Volkov shit is getting way too out of hand, thinks we can’t finish it alone. They’re gonna do some more digging themselves, but in the meantime they want us to team up with a task force.” The news wasn’t all that terrible to you, more of a nuisance than anything. It had been so long since you worked with others that weren’t directly associated with you, so the idea of meeting a new group excited you.

“They’re gonna send us some info on the group ASAP, you’ll probably be up and ready to go by then. If we want to continue working on this case, we can’t do it alone.” The short timeline wasn’t anything new to you. You were used to a fast-paced lifestyle, never staying in one place long. You raised yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the protest of your limbs.

“Well, let's get started then.”

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

William Afton headcanons that swim around in my brain like frogs in a pool filter

(Aka my third attempt at rewriting the fnaf lore)

(Based on the first four games, so no Elizabeth or magic life juice. Sorry.)

When he was a kid, his mother committed suicide and his father decided he wasn’t fit to take care of him, so he sent William to live with his aunt and uncle in Virginia for a while. “For a while,” turned out to be forever because soon after his father dropped him off, he stopped responding to William’s letters. Decades later, William got a letter saying that his father had passed and he left behind a note for him. William was so angry that his father had been alive this whole time that he threw the letter into the fire place. He instantly regretted it and tried to pull it out but it was already too burnt to read.

His uncle forced him to go hunting with him as a kid, to toughen him up. He hated the outdoors and guns, but he found gutting and skinning the animals satisfying. His uncle had to yell at him to hurry it along because he would take too much time doing it. This later evolved into him cutting himself, just so he could see the blood and layers of skin and tissue.

When he was a kid, he wanted to be a clown. He went to circus camp and later clown college. He had his clown college certificate framed next to his masters in engineering diploma. He could juggle, do acrobatics, and was well versed in stage acting.

He often suppressed his accent. He didn’t like people asking questions about his past, or really any personal questions for that matter.

His fashion sense was… loud. He wore colorful suits and sweaters with bright patterned ties. It was an eyesore, but he liked them.

He and his wife, Laura, met while she was a waitress at the diner. It was a bit weird, but to everyone’s surprise, they were married after only two weeks of dating. It was a small ceremony held in the diner, officiated by Fredbear himself.

He wasn’t a good husband. He was emotionally neglectful, pressured her into having kids she didn’t want, and found it funny to put her in stressful/dangerous situations just how she’d react. She left him for a man she had an affair with. Just packed a bag and drove off one day, leaving little Michael crying in the driveway. She tried to write letters to the boys later on, but William always hid them before they could see them.

William loved his sons. He wasn’t the best dad, but he did love them. They were part of him. He spoiled them with toys, but he was emotionally distant and often harsh, particularly towards Michael, who he had unreasonably high expectations for.

Evan was a sweet boy, but he was scared of people, including William, which bothered him a lot. He made a Fredbear plush with a mic and speaker so he could talk to Evan without him getting nervous.

William knew Michael bullied Evan. He put up security cameras in the house after Evan “fell” down the stairs, and he would ground Michael and tell him he wasn’t allowed to hang around his delinquent friends anymore. But all of William’s punishments seemed to just make Michael’s behavior worse. And it didn’t help that William was so busy with work, he was hardly around enough to enforce his punishments.

After Evan’s death, William kept the broken bloody Fredbear animatronic in his basement office. He knew Evan’s ghost was trapped inside the animatronic, and rather than destroying the animatronic to free Evan’s soul, he kept it and tried to make Evan happy inside the suit. Evan was sad, so he surrounded the suit with toys and sweet treats. Evan was cold, so he put Evan’s favorite blanket over the animatronic. Evan was lonely, so he stuffed children into the other animatronics and brought Evan/Fredbear to the restaurant, so he could play with his new friends.

The people who knew him always knew he had a screw loose. He was known around the neighborhood as, “the man in the bright purple suit who walks his pet bunny on a leash,” and, “the guy who got his ass beat and banned from the local bar, because he got too drunk and threatened the owner’s daughter,” They never suspected he was dangerous, but when the news broke that kids were missing at Freddy’s, everyone knew it was him.

William didn’t say a word the entire time he was in police custody. He barely even moved. The police said a corpse would’ve been more responsive. He just stared blankly into space and drooled down his shirt.

Henry defended William when he first got arrested, because he couldn’t believe his friend would ever do something so heinous. He only realized he was wrong after William got released and he witnessed William scream at Michael and try to stab him in anger. Henry took Michael to his house and agreed to let him stay there. When William came to get his son back, Henry told him to fuck off and slammed the door in his face.

William didn’t plan on killing Charlie. He was just going to use her as a bargaining chip to get Micheal back. Plus, Henry would have to be grateful that William saved his daughter from the cold and rain, right? He only got violent after Charlie refused to leave with him. He got angry and choked her until she stopped struggling. In her efforts to fight him off, she covered his hands in tiny red scratch marks that would never heal.

William went into hiding, but was plagued by nightmares and visions of the animatronics. It drove him mad. He couldn’t eat or sleep. Every second of every day was spent in constant paranoia that the spirits of Charlie and the others would find him and kill him. It got so bad that he decided he didn’t care if he was caught by police, he had to go back and destroy those things.

He he didn’t know the animatronics would move at night. They weren’t supposed to do that. When he saw it, he panicked and tried to flee, but they cornered him and overpowered him. They stuffed him in the Spring Bonnie suit, the suit he had worn to kill them. William tried to stay still to prevent the springlocks from going off, but the suits broken down condition, along with his heavy breathing and trembling, worked against him.

He was impaled by dozens of rusty metal bolts. He laid on the ground, writhing in pain, desperately hoping and praying for it to be over soon. But he wouldn’t die. They wouldn’t let him. He didn’t deserve to die, he deserved to suffer.

He was in that room for thirty years. Isolated, starving, and in torturous pain. By the time he was found, everything that once was “William Afton” was now gone. All that was left was a soulless feral zombie like monster that attacked anything it came across.

[meet-me-backstage]

⎈

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ⎈ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🦇 Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🦇 You get dragged into the unfathomable events at Starcourt Mall by your hopeless crush on Billy Hargrove and new-found middle-schooler friends. You struggle to cope with the trauma which gradually costs you your popular cheerleader reputation when you return to high school for senior year. Though this loss first appears to be the end of the world, you learn that there's worse things than levelling down in popularity.

Though even in darkness, there is always a light - for you this is Eddie Munson, who you gain an unlikely friendship in and fall for him in the process.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒍���𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🦇 smoking, mention of and consumption of drugs, horror themes, violence (in the upside down and probs Steve losing another fight (•̀ᴗ•́)و jk jk he's king), nightmares, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of and a near death experience, death, bad language, blood, bullying, mention of vomit and vomiting, some domestic (mainly verbal and emotional) abuse(‼️), mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicide, mention of self-harm, allusion to eating disorder and smUUT so you have to be 18+ to read this series❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 🦇 3.2K words

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 🦇 Bad language… I think that’s all but if anyone notices any others just let me know!

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ⎈ 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

You opened your locker in the morning of a school-day in late January of 1985 to take out your History book and noticed a piece of paper twisting as it fell from your locker. You squinted your eyes, knowing immediately that it wasn't yours, your locker was immaculately tidy and no scraps of paper would usually be found in there.

Out of your own curiosity you picked it up, your heart rate quickening when you did. Please don't be a detention slip or something from Billy, you silently pleaded that it wasn't yet another nickname associated with hitting Billy - you’d had enough, even if it was a more positive reaction than you’d expected... your heart was still hurt, so much so that you were avoiding Rebecca and Billy at all costs in school.

It was the last thing you expected to receive, a cute doodle of a Tiger next to a vague note... 'Hi'.

Your head whipped from side to side at students passing by... no one was being obvious about slipping it inside the door of your locker.

Chrissy had been your first thought, but it wouldn't have made sense because you had just arrived at school together and parted ways to go to your lockers... if it was her then she'd have to have an impressive set of magic tricks up her sleeve - plus, you figured that if it had been Chrissy she would've drawn a bunny as they are her favorite animal... her room, from what you remember on visits after middle school, was filled with rabbit paraphernalia.

Even though you didn't know who had written the note, you thought it was sweet and it brought a smile to your face in the middle of a very loud corridor - you put it back in your locker gently and walked to your first lesson with a skip in your step, feeling a boost of confidence and a sense of ease towards the day ahead…

🦇𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓 🦇

You stare down at all five of them on your bed with Chrissy stood next to you... all five pieces of paper are lined up in order. Your face is showing the exact same confusion that you felt when you found the first note in your locker back in January.

"So - you've been getting them every month since the start of the year?" Chrissy asks as she sits herself down down at your vanity desk, she glances at you through the mirror, looking deep in thought.

"Mhm - every month without fail," you trace your finger over the one that wrote 'stick it to the man!', it makes you smile absentmindedly - it is your favorite of them all because it sounds like something Mason would say, it is also the most recent one you’d received, "I never knew a little tiger would make me so happy," you giggle, "I love getting them - I really do, they've been a little bit of fresh air... if I didn't have these... and you," you grin at her, "It would've been a very few miserable and lonely months."

"I thought you weren't going to mention me then! I ditched what could have potentially been a date with Jason for this," she jokes and gestures between the both of you.

"Of course I was gonna mention you!" You laugh with her and look around your room sheepishly, "You’re my best friend," You blurt, looking at Chrissy with sincere eyes and red cheeks because those words felt like a love confession to you, you didn’t say them lightly. You’d never had a best friend before her… except for Mason - but he is your brother. Chrissy, on the other hand, you consider to be the first of your chosen family.

"And you’re mine," she giggles with a warm smile before skipping back to your bed, where you are still stood. She leans over the drawings, her brows furrow as she examines closer, "They're labelled... Ozzy."

"I guess it's a pretty cute name for a tiger," you shrug.

She smiles and shakes her head, "No, I mean - yes, it's a cute tiger name, but - what if it's a hint to the... doodler themselves?"

You gasp, "That would be wickedly cool - how come I never thought of that?" You close your eyes. You know no one named Ozzy, or anyone with the nickname at school... the name is so familiar to you, whenever you say it you feel an intense sense of deja vu and it itches at the tip of your tongue, making your face scrunch up in even deeper thought... Ozzy - Ozzy - Ozzy - Ozzy Osbourne! “Ozzy Osbourne!” You chant out loud, gaining a startled look from Chrissy.

“What?” She asks in a small voice.

“Ozzy Osbourne is the only Ozzy that I know,” you state in a confident and excited tone because you’d finally made a breakthrough with these goddamn notes.

Chrissy only looks more confused by your sudden outburst, “Who?”

“Oh - no one, just the prince of Darkness, the king of bats, the Great Ozz!” You exclaim in a frenzy of adrenaline that takes Chrissy even more by surprise.

She blinks at you, a faint, slightly nervous smile on her pink lips, “You think that this - Ozzy - Osbourne guy - wrote it?” She asks unsurely, her brows now furrowed.

Blood rushes to your cheeks again as you realise that Chrissy has no idea who Ozzy Osbourne is - I should have known. It saddens you, knowing that the only person who shares your love for Black Sabbath is Mason, and he’s unreachable.

You shake your head, “No, but maybe someone who listens to his music,” you desperately try to think again as another name itched at the tip of your tongue, someone else who worships Ozzy Osbourne.

‘Do you know Behind The Wall Of Sleep?’

Your small voice echoes in your mind, followed by another one that’s slightly only slightly deeper and blurrier. You find that the more you open your eyes, the clearer the voice gets.

‘Do I know it? I've bled with it!’

Eddie Munson.

Your eyes are open wide now at the possibility that the notes could be from Eddie. You shake your head as the likelihood of him writing them for you becomes more and more ridiculous because - why would he do that for me after the way I treated him after he saved my life?

He probably hates me more than Billy does-

Chrissy gasps, interrupting your thoughts, making you snap back to reality, "What is it?!" You ask, startled.

Chrissy looks down at you excitedly, "Ozzy - Billy - Billy - Ozzy," she emphasises the last part of each name as if you are sat in a middle school classroom and she is the teacher.

You stare at her blankly, like she'd asked you to solve the most difficult maths question ever, “And?”

She sits down on the bed with you, the pieces of paper in-between the two of you, "The names are so similar - the double letters - and they end the same," she continues to think, "And he plays for the tigers too!" she places her finger on one of the drawings, "I think it's Billy!"

Your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head profusely - Billy hadn't even looked at me since that night, "Billy hates me."

Chrissy visibly deflates and frowns at you, "Maybe he's too scared to talk to you after what happened at the party... maybe this is his kinda weird way of apologising to you," she trails off as you stand yourself up, biting your thumb and starting to pace your room... your mind trying to put two and two together.

"It can't be - I'm dead to Billy Hargrove.” It pains you to say it. You had been desperately fighting an internal battle since the night you slapped him, avoiding him at all costs him because it hurt just to even look at him, knowing that he used you to get closer to your sister… somehow, in some stupid twisted way, you still felt so guilty for humiliating him the way you did, and thought of so many alternate scenarios that didn’t end up costing you him - his attention… You also didn’t want to get hurt again.

"No you're no-."

"Yes I am - and I - want it to stay that way," you lie through gritted teeth. You say it to protect yourself because deep down you want it to be Billy. Your infatuation with him still existed, it hadn’t just slipped through your fingers like you wished it had.

Chrissy pats the space next to her that isn’t taken by the small pieces of paper. You slowly sit beside her with a sigh, "Would it be so bad if it was him?” She asks and you shrug as a response. “I mean - I know he was a jerk, but - you have to admit, these notes are pretty sweet, don't you think?" She mumbles softly, resting her head on top of yours, "Maybe he's changed - maybe you knocked some sense into him," she giggles softly and wraps an arm around you now.

You giggle softly, “Maybe.”

After a few seconds your laughter dies down and Chrissy’s head shifts so that she can see your face better, “Do you think that you’d forgive him? If he is the mystery doodler?” She asks in a serious, but gentle voice.

You move your head too so that yours and Chrissy’s foreheads are half touching, “I - I don’t know,” you mumble unsurely, looking into her green eyes before quickly blinking away, looking down at your lap.

The only thing that you’re sure of, is that until you have proof that Billy is the mystery doodler, you have to continue avoiding him for your own sanity.

You both laid on your stomachs on your bed after deciding that anything Billy Hargrove related is banned from your girls night. Chrissy and you look through magazines while talking about the latest movie you’d watched at the movies after your shift in Starcourt, 'Desperately Seeking Susan' - Madonna's badass outfits...

'those diamanté covered black boots,' you sigh together dreamily. Together you decide that you need to make it your mission to find a pair exactly like them at Starcourt.

Your mom soon knocks on your bedroom door to tell you and Chrissy that dinner is ready... then, to your dismay, leaves your bedroom door open.

"All parents do that, huh," Chrissy mumbles with yet another giggle as you both climb off of your bed and go downstairs.

Dinner is awkward, the glances between the four of you... your mom loves Chrissy to death, so dinner mainly consists of her complimenting Chrissy while you and Becky refuse to make eye contact while eating your food.

Moments like this make you miss your dad, how he’d make an awkward situation funny by telling a few ‘dad’ jokes. I need to see him more often. You’d put off visiting him because the trailer park is on the other side of town - plus the place creeps you out because Rebecca once told you that ‘the devil himself lives there’.

🦇 𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓 🦇

The next morning you meet Chrissy at your usual spot to walk to school. When Jason sees you his face visibly drops, but he still waves and looks at Chrissy, he might as well have had hearts for pupils as he gives her his usual charming, smug grin and a tight hug.

You guess that he’s probably a little pissed off that Chrissy decided to hang out with you instead of him yesterday, but you shrug it off and start to walk alongside them.

Chrissy walks in the middle and mentions the notes again, catching Jason's attention... he seems nervous at the mention of Billy being the doodler, but agreed with her even though he supposedly knows nothing about the notes you’d been receiving... unless he knows something about Billy's connection to them, he follows him around like a shadow - maybe Jason has overheard something, you think.

"I guess I'll have to wait and see if the next one is a little more... obvious," you trail off, sheepishly glancing between Chrissy and Jason, their arms are knocking into each other because of how close they are. You look down, noticing the bigger distance between you and Chrissy. You frown as you hear them flirt so you unconsciously start walking ahead... until you notice that you can’t hear their footsteps anymore. You turn around and see him kissing her cheek while she is grinning from ear to ear.

It's not like you want Jason to kiss you on the cheek… not at all, that’s the last thing that’s on your mind. The sight of the two of them so obviously falling for each other, it reminds you of what could’ve happened between you and Billy if Tina’s New Year party hadn’t ended the way it did. You also don’t want to lose Chrissy because of Jason because- something feels off... the way that he worships Billy and has been glaring at you ever since the news broke that you slapped his idol.

You quickly come to your senses and pick your head back up, "Did you want to check out that movie later, Chris? You know, the one on the poster we saw - Teen Wolf?" You ask confidently, walking backwards until they catch up with you.

Jason looks down at Chrissy, who has her mouth slightly agape, "Oh - er," she manages to utter before looking down, choosing not to answer.

"We're going on a date after school - to see that movie actually," Jason states, he looks smug and you are left dumbfounded because Chrissy hadn't mentioned this last night, perhaps she called him after leaving your place. She eventually lifts her head in response to Jason nudging her. She is grinning while looking nothing less than guilty, "It'll be fun - we'll get the largest box of popcorn, go to the diner after... been excited to see it since we planned it last night hm?"

Chrissy smiles up at him shyly before looking down again, "Yeah," she giggles and finally, she looks at you - her smile falters as if to say 'I'm sorry'.

You suddenly feel the need to get away from them. Since Chrissy is not an option of your port of call for advice, you think of 'Ozzy the Tiger' - 'stick it to the man!', "Cool, um - I think I’m gonna head back home, I didn't really sleep because er - I have a - er - a stuffy nose so... I actually don't feel too good," you stutter over your words before dramatically coughing and heading back the way you’d came, "Have a nice time - see ya around!” You call without looking back.

You sprint home through the woods and climb to your bedroom window while trying to be as quiet as possible, knowing that mom would be home.

I need to see dad. You knew that mom would not approve of you skipping school, especially just to go to the trailer park to visit your dad. Stick it to the man!

You fall to your knees on the floor, hard enough to leave a bruise, and search under your bed for your basketball. Ah! You spot it once you’re halfway under, rolling it towards you. Once you are cradling it in your arms, you wipe the remaining dust off because you hadn’t held it in years. You look out of your window, noticing your mom out there hanging the laundry. "Fuck," you whisper before sneaking out of your room and running down the stairs.

You’re out of there in a blaze after picking up your bicycle and putting the basketball in the basket hanging from the handlebar.

The area around the trailer park always gave you the creeps, there aren’t any houses apart from an abandoned one that looks like something out of a horror movie. The grass surrounding it is yellow rather than a fresh green and every possible entrance is boarded up. Everything between it and your dad's trailer is woods, transmission towers, abandoned cracked roads and tumbleweed. However, anywhere is better than being at your mom's house right now, you tell yourself.

As you cycle into the trailer park you fall off of your bike because of the uneven ground. There is a group of people sitting outside their trailer and a lone man in a flannel and jeans who is watching you as you pick yourself up and get back on your bike, "Are you alright, darlin'?"

You nod and smile at him through the stinging pain coming from your elbow, and cycle by until just seconds later you’re directly outside your dad's trailer. The only thing that your mom let him take from her house was your basketball net, which he'd nailed to a board that is propped against the trailer itself. You shoot the basketball into the net effortlessly and head inside the trailer... It’s - a mess... he’d probably let it get this way after assuming that you and Rebecca were never going to visit him again.

“Not anymore, dad - I'm here,” You mumble to yourself and pick up some empty beer cans. You tidied after that, did his laundry and got out some cans of spaghetti hoops that you could heat up together once he is home from work.

You noticed that your little 'stick it to the man!' piece of paper had fallen on the floor beside the door, you picked it up and held it tightly because it feels so precious to you, a reminder of when Mason was around... you want so much to be carefree with him again even just for an hour.

Like your thoughts had been answered, you hear your ball being bounced outside. You grow curious, looking out of the window and seeing the man that had called out to you before... he threw the ball successfully into the basket and you raise your brows, smiling a little.

"Wanna - play a game?" You call shyly from the door, running down the steps.

"I'll sure as hell try, darlin'," he chuckles and gently passes you the ball, "You're Graham’s daughter, right?"

You nod and hum, dribbling the ball.

"I'm a good friend o'his - we keep an eye on each other's trailers because he works during the day - I work at night, y’see?" He explains, keeping his eyes on the ball before rolling his eyes at himself, "Before I forget - I'm Wayne," he holds his hand out and you shake it, his hand is rough like his entire exterior, but he seems nice and you decide to trust him if your dad is friends with him.

You quickly shoot another hoop and Wayne whistles.

"You've got some skill.”

He seems intrigued by your basketball skills and settles to watching you after he'd gotten tired of playing. He tells you about his ‘ole high school years’, how ‘back in the day’ he tried for the basketball team but didn’t make the cut.

When your dad arrives back home he pats Wayne's back and looks at you, surprised, like he is going to cry because he hasn’t seen you in so long... he hugs you tightly and you wrap your arms tight around him too.

"What brings you here?" He chuckles.

"I missed you," You smile and he holds you even tighter, as if he hadn’t been expecting to hear you say it, "and my basketball hoop," you giggle.

"It makes me really happy to see you playing again," he mumbles and you open your eyes to see Wayne, he waves before walking to... the Munson trailer? He's Eddie's father?

"A little tiger told me to stick it to the man - so I am," you giggle again as he pulls away from the hug to hold onto your shoulders.

You can see that his mind is bringing him back to old times between you, him and Mason - playing in the front yard. He grins, but there is sadness in his eyes as he strokes your hair, "I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad I'm here," you look up at him, smiling and ignoring the noises coming from the woods around you.

Your dad tries to spot any doubt in your eyes and smiles when he doesn't see any. He ruffles your hair, "Hows about a game?"

You play basketball with him for hours... for once you feel like yourself - not just the cheerleader, the popular girl, the sucker-puncher, the keg queen, the little miss… you are unapologetically being you and you are content.

Your dad gets the ball from you while you are lost in your thoughts, "No, that's cheating!" You laugh hysterically as he shoots the ball but misses the net, you quickly swoop in and grab it before slam dunking it into the basket. You hear your dad cheering behind you, making you grin even more until you see him...

Eddie - he is stood by his trailer watching you, but when he notices that you are looking back at him he jumps, looking around to see if you are actually looking at him and not something behind him... he looks shocked but... he smiles, it is such a shy, unsure smile, and it reaches one corner of his lips more than the other.

Your dad notices that you aren’t playing anymore and turns to look where you are looking, immediately seeing Eddie. You don’t return Eddie's smile, but your dad waves at him and Eddie waves half-heartedly back - he gives you that look, the doe eyed look that he'd given you when he gave you his hand, recognised you as ‘Tink’ and you called him a ‘freak’.

I need to get away!

You panic, "I'm er - hungry - yeah - hungry. 'M gonna go inside - and warm up our - dinner," you turn away from Eddie and your dad before sprinting inside, hugging the basketball tightly into your stomach.

Together, you and your dad stood at the stove, he is holding onto a pan of spaghetti hoops while you stir them with a wooden spoon occasionally. You are both silent, but nudge each other a couple times to lighten the awkward silence and laugh.

You spoon some hoops from the pan for a taste check, something your mom would've yelled at you for - but your dad just laughs it off. Even as you sit at the small table for two, you are slouching with your elbows on the table as you eat... you feel completely relaxed here with him.

"It's nice to see you smiling. All I've thought about recently is if you and Becky are alright - it's all I care about. I know things have been hard for you since - well - Mason left us... and he was your best pal for a brother... a bit of a loose cannon, but he made you happy," he explains and trails off, but his mouth stays open. You tilt your head, frowning, taken aback at Mason's name falling from your dad's lips, "and - I couldn't help but notice the way you um - noticed Munson's nephew out there," he points over his shoulder.

"Munson's - nephew?" Eddie is Wayne's nephew?

"Yes - Eddie, I've not spoken to the boy properly before, but Wayne speaks highly of him. ‘M pretty sure he took the boy in after his dad got sent to jail - Wayne's brother. Waynes had the kid living in his trailer for years, basically his dad... as far as Eddie and Wayne are concerned, the guy in prison is dead to 'em," dad sighs and you find yourself leaning more forward - where is his mom? You suddenly feel even worse for reacting so negatively towards him, "Anyway - they've been through a lot and it made me happy to see that you were getting along with them today. I know Eddie is a bit of an odd kid... kind of reminds me of Mason, the girly hair and free spirit - I reckon he'd be a great pal for you to have."

You hum in response, not knowing what to say because he'd mistaken yours and Eddie's distanced encounter for a budding friendship. The thought of being Eddie's friend hadn't crossed your mind in a long long time... not until now.

⇝ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 ⎈ 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

@sadbitchfangirl @ali-r3n

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts

⎈

[kitthepurplepotato]

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When a weird, melancholic melody plays Bakugou’s broken heartstrings just the right way, he can’t help but embrace his scars and change for the better.

But when the music is gone and the reality hits, his two worlds suddenly collide.

This is a story about a struggling hero and a broken soul who only speaks through music trying to atone for her past mistakes by giving up on everything to save more people than she has ruined in the past.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

General info:

Genre: Fluff and angst with eventual happy ending. It will get quite deep, so minors please DNI - the story is 16+ in my humble opinion.

Every chapter comes with a song of the day! (Rock/alternative/emo bangers!)

The updates will be slow on this one!

Warnings (for future chapters): Mentions of depression, trauma, communication issues due to that trauma, angst, mentions of toxic relationships in the past, mentions of suicidal thoughts, eventual suggestive content (or not, I’m not sure yet) with definitely NO smut. (Sorry) (You might need to get a dentist appointment after you and Katsuki get to know each other tho.) New warnings on every chapter as the story unfolds.

(This makes it sound so much worse than it will be, I honestly can’t write anything too angsty, so if you have a sensitive soul, you are still welcome to read this, I will probably change my mind halfway through the ficc anyway, if not, just write me a message and I’ll give you lovely spoilers to soothe your soul.)

About the reader: She/her pronouns, alternative style, mentions of piercings, tattoos and colorful hair. The reader has trauma and a really messed up past but she’s gonna be fine. Reader is also a musician and has a cool but uncontrollable quirk. I can’t say more without spoilers.

About the writer: English is my second language, please be kind.

More notes and fun facts by the end of the chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Chapter one: Off With The Head!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Songs of the day:

Palaye Royale - Off with the head

Underoath - I gave up

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Present

I miss the sound of my soul

The music of my heartstrings

But the dream is about the end

I can almost feel my heart bleed 

With tears and blood I fought

Cuts deep red and violent

I want to stay with you…

But I’m lost in the silence.

This is the last day you are surrounded by your favorite sound on the Earth; music.

The sound of someone tuning a guitar, a random rhythm played on the drums nearby, the feedback of the amps, the echo of an empty building that’s about to be filled with thousands of people. 

As you throw your favorite pick into the air to catch it halfway down, lazily lying on the uncomfortable sofa in the dressing room you can’t help but wonder; what will your life be when this is over? 

“You’ll be fine, Y/N” comes an answer in your head to the question you never said out loud.

“I thought we made a deal; no sneaking around in my head without asking for permission.” 

“I just wanted to take your hand in case you are lost in that mess inside.”

Haru is your best friend. You’ve been attached by the hip since you met on a band practice; Haru quickly became your favorite person to hang out with as he was the only one who could understand you without words; his telepathy quirk allowed you to have a voice without the need of speaking up, and eventually, it helped you to get through your trauma and be able to speak again. 

There is a reason why you sing so much about silence and there is a reason why you only communicate through telepathy when you’re “Miss X” on the stage; but that’s a different story for a different day. 

Today, you will break your own heart and step on it, grind it in a grinder and throw it in a pit.

You are about to jerk out all your heartstrings out one by one, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. 

You are about to ruin everything you worked so hard for, for the greater good.

You are about to disband the band that saved your life to save everyone else’s instead.

No one ever told you that to be a hero, you need to die first. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A story from 3 years ago.

Bakugou Katsuki was a lone wolf.

He enjoyed his solitude, loved the sound of the city rushing under his massive windows on the 7th floor, he loved the peace and quiet of his black and white flat, the beautiful shine of his pure golden handles, the feeling of freedom he felt in his massive living room.

As he sat down on his black fluffy sofa, he couldn’t stop thinking about all his friends; they were out having “fun”, spending all their hard-earned money on booze and band merch. 

Out of his close friend group which consists of Kirishima, Mina, Sero and Denki, Bakugo was the only one in the top 10. The reason was really obvious to him; while his buddies loved to party, loved to get into weird relationships that made them unfocused or grumpy when their significant other broke up with them without an actual proper reason, Bakugo did none of these things.

Bakugo wakes up at 5AM every day, trains until 7 in his own gym, goes to work at 7:30, grinds until 8 in the evening or sometimes 10, then goes to bed right away. 

Some people call it “lonely”, he calls it efficient. 

He’s only 25 yet he owns a massive flat in the fancy area of the city and has enough money in the bank to be able to survive without doing any work for the rest of his life; even tho he hopes he can stay a hero until he’s unable to walk and function properly.

With that said, Bakugo was absolutely happy with his life. He didn’t need alcohol or stupid concerts to have a breather; his work was his life, his reason of existence.

And if that was not enough, he didn’t even listen to music at home as the sounds of his surroundings were calming enough for him to be able to rest after a terrible work day.

Bakugo didn’t understand why was Denki so all over him about this concert, but here he was, jumping around the sofa like a monkey while the blonde tried his best to ignore his existence.

“Bakubro, just this once.” He begged, down on his knees. “You will absolutely love this band. They are super edgy like you, their lyrics are so deep and so meaningful!”

This guy never gives up. 

“Jesus Christ, fuck you.” said the angry blonde standing up from the sofa and pushing Denki just enough to fall on his ass. 

Fucking electric Pikachu and his nonsense… “Okay, I’ll fucking go! But if is sucks balls like the last one I’ll never go anywhere with you ever again. Got it, Dunce Face?” Chargebolt nodded at least 10 times. He literally looked like one of those plastic dogs with the wiggly heads, Bakugo found it quite amusing. 

It only took 10 minutes for the blonde to get ready; he put on an old black t-shirt with a skull printed on the front of it, tight black trousers, a black face mask, some old rings and a necklace he bought when he was an edgy teen, then topped the full set with a black beanie. 

While his main idea was to stay incognito, the whole look worked so well on the blonde that Denki almost had a heart attack. 

“You literally look like a rockstar, man, let’s go.”

Bakugo Katsuki felt really uncomfortable in the crowd. He just wanted to go home and sleep as it was was way past his bedtime. 

The sound of the clinking glasses made him feel super annoyed, he hated the commotion that came with the whole concert, he hated his loud friends cheering for the shitty songs playing in the radio before the gig and if that was not enough to make the blonde feel nauseous, the whole place smelled like spilled beer and sweat. 

The lights turned off all of a sudden; people started to scream and cheer and Bakugo wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He sat down on the bar stool and waited for the lights to come up; but instead of the usual grand entrance with strong, colorful lights and fake fires, there was a sudden announcement in the radio topped up with a massive amount of fog coming from the machines on the sides. 

We are nothing. We are zero. 

We are not dead 

But we are not alive.

We are nothing. We are zero.

But we are free. 

Suddenly, Bakugou forgot how to breathe. 

Heavy rock music blasted through the speakers, resonating in his bones, his head fuzzy, mind blank. He had no idea when he left the bar, but he certainly did. 

3 people emerged from the shadows, their bodies still hidden by the thick fog; their silhouettes made their way to their assigned positions; an outline of a guitar appeared in the middle and another guitar shape with a longer neck appeared on the right; probably the bass. The fog started to disappear so Katsuki took a good look at the two people in front of him; the singer-guitarist had a full black make up, his face was also full of piercings. His attire was edgy and sinister, but there was kindness written all over his features as he smiled at the crowd.  

The bassist; also clothed in all black with neon, hand painted scribbles all over her attire; she had black, long dreadlocks with a few neon green and neon purple streaks hidden in the darkness of her hair, face hidden under a creepy plague doctor mask. She looked like an alternative version of Momo.

As the fog got thinner and thinner in the middle and on the right, the left fog machine was still going on full blast, hiding one half of the stage from the curious eyes of the crowd.

The fog also revealed the drummer; he almost looked tiny behind his massive drum set; his indifferent ice blue eyes barely cared about anything but the drums as he played a heavy rhythm. He was on another level. It made Bakugo miss his early high school days and his random band he had with his friends. 

It also felt like he was a part of the drum set and not a living and breathing person playing the drums. He was there but he wasn’t. His pure white hair blended into the white screen behind him and Katsuki could understand the guy so well; he loved the music he was playing, but he probably hated the fame that came with it so he decided to disguise himself as much as he could to stay sane.

The blonde was mesmerized by how different all these people were yet they worked so well together. The concert only just started but he already felt some weird connection with the band. 

He was just about to get out of his stupor when someone else entered the stage with a massive jump from the side; a beautiful creature with colorful strikes in her otherwise black hair, face mask hiding her face from the crowd. Bakugo swears he saw black paws when the lady first emerged: she jumped high enough to be visible for a few seconds as the fog on the left side was still thick around the ground. Her whole body was full of colorful tattoos, except her face. This person looked almost inhuman, her eyes piercing through your soul, even tho she did her best to not make any eye contact with anyone. Bakugo did not believe in love in first sight. He didn’t believe in love, end of the sentence; but the way his heart fluttered by the sight of this almost inhuman being was worthy to be called something like that.

If her beautifully extravagant presence was not enough, she rocked a black and gold striped guitar with skulls on the neck and horns on the top. Black and gold; just like his home. 

We are nothing. 

But we are here

We are zero 

But we believe 

We are nothing

But we’re not alone

We belong 

We are free. 

The whole “song” sounded like a mantra; it wasn’t about the words or the music for this intro. To be honest, the whole song did not make  any sense, yet you couldn’t stop chanting, you couldn’t stop “feeling”; like the song just went straight to your soul then clawed it’s way up to your mouth to let all your real, bottled up feelings loose.

And Katsuki felt everything; the pain of an unsuccessful rescue, the frustration of having no one to go home to, the emptiness in his heart and the sore in his muscles. Actually, when was the last time he took a day off? 

By the end the concert, the main singer went to the side and ruffled the other guitarist’s head. She looked vicious and adorable at the same time. Katsuki couldn’t stop staring at the friendly interaction; so she is a human, after all. 

“Your turn, X. Show them what you got” 

Instead of talking, she just nodded and went to the middle without making an eye contact with the crowd. She was in her own little world. 

She took her mask off and knocked her fingers on the microphone 3 times. Her face was decorated by a few piercings here and there; the same kinds the other guitarist was wearing.

Needless to say, in Bakugo’s eyes she was even more beautiful without the mask. 

“She said hi” translated the bassist, and before Katsuki could think too much about what just happened, miss X played the first few chords. The guitarist guy put his guitar on a stand and went straight to the piano at the back. 

The crowd went silent. 

I stay behind 

I stay quiet 

I let you hurt me

Bloody and silent

The sound of the guitar was clear, it almost sounded like an acoustic session. Miss X barely sang; she just whispered into microphone. 

I want to scream 

But I have nothing to say

No strength to talk

No words to spare 

Her voice got stronger, but wavered like she actually had no strength to sing this song until the end. The whole place felt stuffy, anxiety popping off the walls. Some people just stared at the stage, silently crying. 

As my silent tears 

Fall down on my face 

I leave you behind 

I am done with the pain

I have no voice

I have no words to say

I might be broken 

But I can still run away 

Slowly, her voice got clearer and clearer; with a crooked smile on her tear stained face, she pressed a button on the floor. 

Katsuki almost fainted when the clear sound became distorted and loud.

Suddenly, the clear voice changed to a scream, the slow melody turned into heavy rock music and the whole place woke up from their daze. 

I’m done with the pain 

I won’t let you hurt me

Not anymore 

You played me so dirty

The blood on your hands 

Won’t wash away 

The hole in your heart

Won’t ever mend

You will rot away 

In your personal hell

Your soul so broken 

An unfixable mess 

The sound got heavier and heavier then got to a sudden halt; the guitar settings were changed again to a less aggressive sound. Her voice sounded broken and weak but still aggressive, leaving goosebumps on the hero’s skin.

I wish you could have seen

The love you left behind 

The hope of a future 

Happy and kind 

I gave you all the chances 

I gave you my all

You broke all your promises 

You’ve broken them all

While first Katsuki thought the song will be a break up song, the melody and the lyrics made him think otherwise. Katsuki worked with people with trauma. He knows a broken soul when he sees one. 

As you lost yourself in pity 

As you completely lost your mind

Freedom might be lonely,

But I welcome them with a smile.

Katsuki was shaking. 

Katsuki also somehow ended up in the first row. 

As Miss X finished the song, there were no cheers coming from the crowd. Everyone was too shook to their core to speak up.

The singer suddenly found Katsuki in the crowd and showed off her broken smile again, just for him, wiped her tears off with a napkin she got from the guitarist and the whole band left the stage. 

The lights went off again. 

We are nothing. We are zero. We are free. 

As the room got bright and the life came back into the building, Katsuki left the crowd, left his friends and went straight to the exit. 

He had no voice. He had no words to say. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Things have changed for Bakugo in the last few years. 

After his first concert, Bakugo closed himself off a for a few days to think about what he wants to do with this newly found obsession of his. He is not the type of guy to get so involved in music or a person but he couldn’t stop thinking about that one song sang by that one beautiful creature. 

The blonde is also an extremely stubborn person, so looking into Denki’s eyes and telling him he was right was the biggest challenge of his life and he almost died for saving this country, so that says a lot. 

After a few days, Bakugo came out of his shell and embraced his new self; the guy who goes on gigs sometimes and actually enjoys them. 

His old rings became a part of him. He’s still himself; but more open minded and a bit more edgy. He also owns some cool merch now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The present 

It’s that day again. The day when Katsuki is able to see his favorite person on Earth; Miss X. 

“Oh, someone looks edgy and cool, are you off to see your wifey again, Kacchan?”

Oh yes. His friends found his obsession hilarious and even Deku decided to bully him for it.

“I would shut my trap if I were you. You might need your balls one day. Oh, wait!” Katsuki makes a dramatic surprised face and looks deeply into the green nerd’s eyes. “You probably won’t.” 

“Hm, this is quite a bold statement from someone who never had a partner in his life.” Says Todoroki Fucking Shouto, the prince on the white horse, the forever defender of princess Deku. 

“Fuck the both of you, I’m out.” Katsuki rolls his eyes at the two and leaves.

His relationship with Deku changed a lot since he started to go out more with people. They might sound the same as they were in high school, but instead of their usual rivalry, they just work side by side now as the first and second best hero in Japan. Katsuki is aware that Shouto could easily take their spots and be the first if he wanted to, but he decided to join Deku’s agency to make his old man furious instead. He’s still the third best hero in Japan and  he looks comfortable with his current position; it makes Katsuki’s blood boil.

As Bakugou’s favorite band is based in Japan, he was able to see them 9 times in last 3 years. He usually gets 2 weeks off when they are on tour and he goes to at least 3 or 4 gigs per tour. It’s quite convenient this way; he’s able to use his holidays, see new cities in Japan and because traveling all around the country costs a fortune, non of his friends is willing to pay the money to come with him so he is able to have a few, peaceful days to himself and himself alone. It’s annoying enough to have them around on every single concert in Tokyo. One time Denki decided to make a sign that said “Marry me Miss X” and gave it to Katsuki before the concert. Needless to say, the sign was burned into ashes before they stepped into the building. 

This concert is special to him. First of all, this is his 10th concert, second of all, this is the last gig of the tour; it’s a special Tokyo gig with only 100 tickets available. Katsuki was lucky to win one ticket for himself but thankfully, no one else in his friend group could get one. 

As Katsuki opens the door to get into the tiny venue in the middle of the city, he’s welcomed by familiar faces; there are no cordons this time and one half of the band is already sitting on the stage, chatting away with the fans and answering questions. His eyes wonder around the venue and he smiles; Miss X and the band’s Drummer Yuki somehow managed to find the highest place in the building, which is a massive shelving system for the booze behind the bar and they are silently watching the other two talking from the top of the cabinet like two indoor cats looking for excitement in a boring flat.

Katsuki hears a quiet snicker coming from miss X, and Yuki takes his wallet out and gives her some money. 

“X said you’ll find us in 10 seconds and I said you won’t.” Shrugs the guy like they didn’t just make Katsuki’s heart miss a beat by acknowledging his existence. 

“Thanks, I guess?” Answers the baffled hero and    instead of his usual water, he asks for a glass of whiskey. 

“Our treat!” Grins the drummer and jumps off the cabinet with a massive thump. Miss X lands right in front of Katsuki on the middle of the counter, almost spilling his whiskey; she looks at the beverage like it personally offended her and takes a sip from it before disappearing into thin air. When he looks down at the counter there is some change and a note next to his drink. 

“This is a goodbye, but this isn’t the end. X.”

Katsuki is a little bit smitten right now, but… he definitely did not like the sound of that message. He only hopes he completely misunderstood what Miss X was trying to say.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Seems like Miss X wants to start this gig so let’s meet in 5 minutes guys!” Speaks up your best friend who’s still outside talking to the fans. 

It’s happening. This is the last time people will hear your voice. 

You know you shouldn’t have left that message to Dynamight. You know he’s probably all freaked out right now. But while you never talked to the guy; you never talked to anyone except your closest friends to be exact; he was such a great supporter for so long and you wanted to warn him about what is about to happen. You wanted to tell him in person in your own, messed up way.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Says the voice inside your head and you wake up from your daze. Haru is right next to you, with a sad smile on his face. 

You nod your head and make your way to the now dark stage; it’s time to scream your heart out one more time before the silence swallows you whole. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

As the light goes off, Katsuki emerges from the bar and makes his way to the side of the stage; it might not have the best view of the band, but he enjoys being close to the stage without other people bumping into him, and no one ever had to guts to send him away from his spot before, so he hopes for the same for this time. 

The concert starts with the usual song; Zer0, which is actually the band’s name as well. 

We are nothing. We are zero. But we are free. 

Katsuki knows something is wrong right after the first few notes of the intro; the always smiling guitarist, Haru just stares at the crowd for a moment and as Miss x emerges from the fog, she “accidentally” bumps into the guy to get him out of his head. 

The rest of the concert goes as usual; the crowd cheers, then the crowd cries when Miss X takes the mike from Haru to sing her heart out. The concert is about to end but there are 3 taps on the mike right before the lights are supposed to come back. The teary eyed crowd silently stares at miss X who doesn’t look like she’s about to leave the stage.

So this is it - Katsuki thinks. - This is what the message was about. 

“There is a song I wrote for today.” Speaks up the always silent guitarist, and everything freezes; no one dares to look away. “This is our last song as a band. Our journey has come to an end. I want to thank you guys for everything. So… listen to me one last time.”

All the lights go off on the stage except for 4 spotlights; one for each member. Miss X starts to play a song no one has ever heard; the song start off with a pleasant but melancholic melody; it’s full of pain, determination and longing.

I miss the sound of my soul

The music of my heartstrings

But the dream is about the end

I can almost feel my heart bleed 

With tears and blood I fought

Cuts deep red and violent

I want to stay with you

But I’m lost in the silence.

Miss X looks to the side; she looks right at Katsuki who can’t help his tears this time. For his surprise, Miss X keeps her eyes on him for the next few lines, like he’s the only one in the building who would understand the meaning behind her words. 

This is a goodbye 

But this isn’t the end 

I’m not giving up

I just need to defend 

Defend the ones in need 

Defend the ones in pain

To help the world to heal

So we can all be free again.

With tears in her eyes, she gives Bakugou a broken smile and he can’t help but smile back. 

He understands. He understand this way too much. 

This is a goodbye 

But this isn’t the end 

Take my hand to see 

This future ahead 

This future full of smiles 

Where no one’s left behind 

Where voices are heard 

And hearts are always warm 

Miss X takes a deep breath and tries her best not to cry out loudly; the song is about to end which means… these are her last words to the fans.

But we won’t stop fighting 

We won’t let you down

Our melody of freedom

Won’t ever die. 

Everything comes to a sudden halt; darkness swallows the whole building as the band members disappear one by one. A loud “fuck!” is heard from the back of the stage; probably one of the members having a meltdown in the backstage area; it was broken and manic, probably coming from a person full of tears and frustration. Katsuki’s guess is the main singer-guitarist Haru, as he was out of it the whole time while playing on the stage. 

After the show is over, Katsuki feels nothing but emptiness. He already cried enough in the last few minutes to not be frustrated about the sudden announcement, and he also had 2 whole hours to get ready for it thanks to the message he got from Miss X before the concert. Everyone else is in pieces; random strangers are comforting each other in the first few rows, some people are shamelessly bawling their eyes out in the corners, some others left right when the concert has ended as they did not feel comfortable showing emotions in front of so many strangers. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath and makes his way outside; the message from Miss X safely hidden in his jacket pocket for the days when he can’t help but miss the freedom he felt during these concerts. 

He always wanted to be a hero, but having something else to wait for made his job so much easier for him. Before his first concert, he always felt like a caged animal who’s only existing to serve; a disposable tool who’s ready to die any day for the greater good. 

Katsuki already feels the cage door closing down on him; the feeling of dread and misery washing over him and burning his skin and bones like acid. 

As Dynamight makes his way home by foot to clear his mind he can’t stop thinking about Miss X’s lyrics; he has a feeling their path will cross again in the near future but it might as well just be a lie made by his brain to cope with his current situation. 

It’s not like Miss X will magically fall from the sky right into Katsuki’s arms on a random sunny afternoon. Life is not a cringy romantic movie, but Katsuki, for the first time in his lonely life, wishes it was. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

1 month later 

Dynamight isn’t the most liked hero in Japan at the moment. 

Well, he was never a fan favorite; thanks to being short-tempered and almost anti-social when it comes to any kind of human interaction, Bakugo was only admired from a safe distance, and only by those who actually did their research to see how much he has done for this country when he was a teen. 

Katsuki knows he has no chance to be the Number 1 hero anyway; Deku’s name is the same as All Might’s - Saint and Untouchable, the Symbol of Victory and peace, the savior of Japan and probably the whole world, as he likes to travel abroad to help out other countries in the time of need. 

Japan is in a really good place right now; even with the Number 1 hero being away, villains still have no chance against the current heroes as their generation was not only trained to fight off bad guys but also to win an impossible war. 

Katsuki also lost years worth of experience after his fight with All for One; Katsuki had some serious surgeries at a young age, so him being Number 2 is an absolute miracle anyway. He might be stubborn, but he‘s old enough now to know when to give up. 

With that said, Bakugou’s reputation went down even more in the last few weeks.

Since Zer0 disbanded, Katsuki didn’t really know what to do with all his pent up energy so seeing Dynamight in the news for almost blowing up the paparazzi was a weekly occurrence. 

Today was one of those days when Katsuki was ready to blow someone’s face up if they came close to him; and the fact that he could feel someone tailing him in the shadows of the alley didn’t help his mental state at all. 

Katsuki honestly does not understand the paparazzi. They literally behave like the villains sometimes; they follow people, lurk in the shadows and they also ruin everyone’s precious eyesight with their camera’s flash and then they get offended for being blown to the moon by accident. Like bruh, don’t be an ass if you don’t want to be smacked in the face, am I right?

And also, how is he supposed to know if he’s being followed by an enemy or just by a paparazzi trying to get some money to feed his family? Being a famous hero is mentally exhausting. 

The blonde lost himself in his thoughts for a second there, which was a terrible mistake.

The next moment everything happens all at once; a loud thump as something hits the back of his head, the world spinning around for a few moments, his back hitting the wall with great force - Dynamight collects himself enough to find the enemy, but his eyes can see nothing but the darkness of the alley.

The enemy has an invisibility quirk. Bakugou is absolutely fucked. 

There’s also a massive gash on the back of his head, blood trailing down his neck, dampening his shirt; but that’s fine. He was in the mood for a good fight anyway. 

He is just about to fight the invisible culprit by throwing explosions in every direction until it actually hits the target when a black, panther-like shadow emerges from the top of the building; but Katsuki’s head is throbbing so much he can barely concentrate on the invisible fight let alone on another shadow attacking from behind; Katsuki’s mental instability is clearly clouding his decisions right now and he is definitely not prepared for a proper fight tonight. 

One of his explosions finally hit the villain and the impact makes him visible for long enough for Katsuki to land a good punch; but his knuckles meet with nothing but the thin air as the black shadow snatches the now fully visible villain by his neck. 

Katsuki needs a moment to get the full picture here. For the first few seconds, he can see a black panther in a ghost form - what? - literally CHOMPING on the guys neck while throwing him into the brick wall of the alley. The villain goes through the wall, into the building, his body almost completely covered by the falling debris; needless to say, he is not going anywhere and Katsuki is sure he’s also unconscious if not dead already. 

Katsuki takes a few steps back from the panther, ready to fight for his actual life if that thing attacks him; but the panther suddenly morphs into a black fog and from it emerges a… person. A person he missed so dearly in the last few weeks. 

This is all a fever dream, a vision (thanks to his severe concussion) or a shape shifter villain. This isn’t real. 

“You… needed help?” Comes a small, stuttering voice Katsuki knows way too much. 

“Stay away.” Warns the blond, getting in a defensive position, barely standing. The new “enemy” turns their head to one side like a dog, confused, but it only takes her a few moments to understand the situation. 

“This is a goodbye, but this isn’t the end.” says Miss X, clearly uncomfortable with being forced to talk for so “long” and Katsuki can’t take this anymore; the hope of safety washes over him as his bleeding head almost meets the concrete. Thanks to Miss X’s quick reflexes, he lands in her arms instead. 

“I was about to finish him off.” Slurs the blonde and Miss X snickers quietly at the response. 

She did fall from the sky - thinks the hero, amused by his own correct prediction as a sweet, pleasant scent fills up his nose right before he passes out due to the blood loss he didn’t have time to acknowledge in the heat of the moment. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

To be continued in Chapter 2 - Concrete Jungle

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Wow, I feel like I just gave birth to a child.

I hope you guys liked the first chapter of this story, I’m so excited (and anxious) to write the rest of it!

Some side notes about the first chapter:

💥 The Readers Guitar is a Schecter Synyster Gates Custom S, Sustainiac in black and gold.

💥 The intro’s sound is similar to the Palaye Royale song (at least in my head haha) and the main song of the first concert is similar to the Underoath song, hence why there are 2 songs for this chapter for you to listen to (you don’t need to tho!)

I have no idea how to write lyrics so please don’t judge me too much. Thank you. 💥

💥I know That Bakugou shouldn’t faint so easily but keep in mind that he was really out of it, the attack was unexpected and he wasn’t in his hero costume either so… poor guy was the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong mindset.

💥 Also random fun fact: I based the drummer on my boyfriend of 8 years who also played the drums in a band when we first met and I find it absolutely hilarious that I ended up using his personality for one of my silly side characters! 😂

Have a great day, guys! 💜

P.s. I can also make a taglist for this one if you guys are interested!

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER SIX on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 8,996.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Enjoy. :)

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

Notes: It's crazy how long this chapter is. Consider it an aberration. Not unwelcomed but strange all the same.

Anyway. Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Six: Executioner and Executioner. ...

.:.

You shout it out But I can't hear a word you say I'm talking loud, not saying much I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet Shoot me down, but I get up

-- Titanium, by Sia

.:.

Suna was cold at night-time. Colder than she would have thought possible before spending so much time in the village. But the more Sakura thought about it the more she realised how unjustified that presumption had been. Not all deserts got cold at night, but the dust wilderness in the Land of Wind did. She knew this already. So, it made sense that Suna would also experience similar temperature shifts. That, in some way, the two would mirror each other.

But is it always this still in the desert?

Silence. It was like a physical force in the air. That, or Sakura was sensing something she couldn’t understand. But what it could possibly be, she didn’t know. The silence of the streets seemed to be carried on the wind that swept through the village in the days following her outburst in front of Gaara. A peace that she hadn’t expected to feel, blanketed her. It felt like she had permission to be lazy, to goof off, to just be herself for a while, no matter what that meant anymore.

It was… soothing.

Sakura Haruno stood in the threshold of the open front door of the Kazekage mansion, just staring out at the night, hugging herself for warmth. Things had been a little stilted after her outburst, but the past week had seen a return to normalcy. Whatever that meant.

She licked her lips, then bit her bottom lip before cocking her head toward the sound just to her left. He was just outside the barrier that separated him from the Kazekage mansion. Prowling. Like the shadow that he was. She’d noticed a new addition to the seals from the first night here, ones some of the council had also had a hand in. Or at least some seals they were familiar with. Sakura didn’t trust any of them. Less even than she trusted the Root.

But as long as the shadow stayed out of her way, she would leave him alone too. For now. After she’d attacked him in the alleyway, the Root shadow kept a longer leash on her. Whereas before he’d clearly seen her as just some weak-minded little girl that his master had tempered, he was now watching with more caution.

Not as stupid as he looks.

That didn’t buy her anything but time, however. He could change his mind tomorrow and start hassling her again.

On a less ominous note, Sakura had finished perfecting the signs Sai taught her for his Super Beast Imitating Drawing jutsu and found some ink in the downstairs study to try bringing her creations to life. She’d started by trying to directly imitate Sai’s process. There had been some empty scrolls and a few paint brushes lying about the mansion and she’d taken one of each, just to be safe. She didn’t need to be interrogated by Kankuro or Gaara on missing small things like these. But as it turned out, infusing her chakra into the ink, drawing weird stick animals on the scroll, and then casting the jutsu on it was the easy part.

The hard part was not giving up when it failed miserably.

Every failure was disheartening, but not like the old days: the days when training with Lady Tsunade would only spur her on to do better and actually revive the dead fish that she’d been tasked with rejuvenating the first time she ever used her healing jutsu. She used to love the challenge. She used to see her failures as motivation to keep going.

When I wasn’t crying over Sasuke. Loser.

But now?

It wasn’t a natural impulse. Sakura had to force herself to keep going. So that was what she did. It had been slow going, with only the afternoons and night-time to practise, because of the stupid wedding planning, so it took her almost the entire week to get the ink creature to even look like something Sai might have created when he was first learning to do it. And even with her Yang Release energy, she could barely make them quiver let alone move or do anything useful. Sometimes they didn’t even look anything like she’d first pictured.

She thought something small like a mouse, to start off with, would make it easier. And save her patience. And save her ink. But now she was out of both. Luckily, she didn’t need to replace the scroll or paintbrush as they were reusable with every summons, given the ink literally lifted off the paper.

Another sound caught her attention, bringing her thoughts back to the present. To the cool air of Suna’s night. It was almost ten o’clock. The Root member was working later every night. She wondered what he was up to, desperately curious. Maybe if she managed to get her ink creatures working her first target should be the shadow. Or maybe use him as actual target practice.

She smiled at that, turning from the door, and walking slowly in the direction of her room.

Sakura paused at Kankuro’s bedroom door, frowning at it. He’d been the same since day one: a consistent paragon of politeness and familiarity that seemed unsure of how to handle her. She kept walking, her eyes drifting to Gaara’s door. Outside the stifled but still infuriatingly civil dinners he was avoiding her. She supposed it was for the best.

Sakura stopped in front of his door and pressed the palm of her hand against it. His chakra was steady. A rare early night for him. Whatever had caused him to return so soon and retire for the night so quickly, she didn’t know, but if he was as much of an overachiever as she’d heard, he deserved the time away from the stress.

She smiled at that. He’d been worrying himself over so many things. Kankuro had made a point of addressing some of these the past week, during their dinners. This was how Sakura knew just how much the brothers were worried about Temari. She didn’t know if their sister was overdue in returning, or if the worry was based solely on how things out there were faring, but it made her feeling strangely more connected to them.

She pressed her ear to Gaara’s door for a final confirmation.

They’re both finally asleep.

It was time for her to get to work.

.:.

Sakura rushed back down the internal staircase, returning to the study.

When she’d cornered him about obtaining ink under the pretence of writing in a journal a week ago, Kankuro had readily agreed to help. Sakura hadn’t wanted to go to Gaara for it, given his desire to avoid her. That was a whole can of worms she had no interest in opening. Kankuro’s ink had done its job but now, it wasn’t enough. She needed more. So, she took it.

I’ll wrestle my conscience about it later.

There was no way they’d understand why she had to do this. And why she needed access to the refined looking library on the ground level of their home, accessible via the study. There were some children’s books that she assumed one or more of the siblings had consumed as a child and she felt funny at the idea of stealing them. But they weren’t going far and if either of the brothers asked her about it later, Sakura was prepared to bluster and apologise, claiming to have thought it was okay to borrow them.

Likely, however, it would be fine.

The books were invaluable to her work. Sakura had decided to use reference material after the fifteen thousandth time her attempt at a rat came out looking more like a blob of paint with fur. Drawing from memory was so hard to do. But once she started using references of what small animals are supposed to look like, she got better at it. She practiced Sai’s jutsu until she got it down to an art. Well, her plebeian version of art, anyway.

She had initially thought to “borrow” one of the more adult-orientated books, with more mature and accurately proportioned artist renderings but they just confused her even more, when she tried to use them as reference. So simple, easier, and cartoonish animal images, it was.

Over the last week, Sakura had graduated from mice to larger rodents and was ready to try her hand at birds. Since they were supposed to have the power of flight, they made her nervous and she’d been avoiding them. Sai hadn’t explained whether or not she needed to understand the animals they copied to make it work, but she was finally going to try. It wouldn’t hurt to visualise a bird flapping its wings and then jumping to take flight as she sculpted its outline.

Sakura took what she needed from the library and raced back up the stairs, listening for any stirring from the other bedrooms as she silently made her way back to her own room. Heart hammering, books clutched tightly to her breasts, she held her breath, waiting. When no sound was forthcoming, she heaved a sigh of relief and gently opened her door, closing it with a click.

Nobody came at her out of the shadows.

Did I imagine that trick of the light where inanimate objects come to life?

She shook her head and sat down on the bed to peruse her spoils. One of the books was a story called An Ibis and the Oasis and she opened it up, unable to stop herself from quietly reading it out of curiosity. It was a tale about a foreign bird settling in the Land of the Wind after it got lost in the sands along the border. She smiled. It was a book about found family and overcoming hardships. Pretty heady for a children’s book but inspiring. She bit her bottom lip as it trembled and muffled the sound of her involuntary, soft cry.

Kami, get a grip.

She sniffled, skimming through the book quickly, ignoring the surge of emotion and found an image of one of the Ibis’s friends, a small hawk. She imagined it was more common in the Wind desert, and less likely to stand out if she sent it through Suna’s skies.

Sakura laughed at her own presumption that this was going to work at all.

She stood up and collected the necessities before getting comfortable on the floor, feet tucked under her bum as usual. With the book flat on the floor and page open to where she needed it, Sakura opened the first bottle and placed it in front of her. She could only infuse her chakra into the ink a few times before it became useless (what was up with that?), so every attempt counted. She’d discovered that the hard way.

Sakura unravelled the scroll in front of her and got to work with the paintbrush. It took her a few tries and an hour to make the basic shape, considering she was trying to save the ink. She had the shape of the head and body down pat but was having trouble with the legs and wings. They were tendrils on the paper. Wriggly and mulish. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, imagining what the hawk would look like if she were a competent artist like her friend.

Focus, she told herself. Her emotions were trying to ruin everything. But she pushed them down.

It was like meditating. She had her legs crossed by this point, uncomfortable with the previous position of poking her heels into her bum. Focusing on the black of her eyelids, she tried to force all the frustration from her mind and body.

Breathe. Relax my muscles. Focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly. Not too fast. There.

She was aware of every breath. Pushing and pulling. Circular motions of it coming and going.

Sakura had no idea if this was even necessary, but she felt a little better. The task didn’t seem so insurmountable when her heart wasn’t pounding in her ears. She almost felt like her old self again. She opened her eyes and smiled, stretching her arms out in front of her.

“Okay, I can do this.”

There was no response from an invisible voice.

Sakura traced the image of the bird in the book with her finger again, feeling the way her hand moved to trace the contours of the animal, how the movement became more precise in some places and freer, almost lazy, in others. She shifted her hand in the trace to mimic the way she held the brush and did it again. And again.

And again.

When she was confident that she could copy it better, Sakura returned the brush to her hand and tried again, on paper. She kept her eyes on the reference image, letting the strokes come more naturally, but keeping the intended creation in the corner of her eye.

That’s it.

She paused then slowed down when she got to the more difficult parts, taking a break to assess her work before diving back into it. Sakura lost track of time, trying, and trying again. It was probably after midnight now. She didn’t care. She looked down and let out a gasp.

It’s done!

She’d successfully made her ink drawing look like a bird. Sakura giggled and sat up straighter, excited. She took another calming breath and ran through the hand signs she’d memorised. The ink shuddered and shimmered before lifting off the page.

Sakura laughed and squealed, forgetting to be quiet as the bird shook itself. Standing right in front of her was an inaccurate ink sculpture of a hawk that still, surprisingly, looked like an actual bird. If she didn’t know it was supposed to be a hawk, she wouldn’t know what species it was but while she was no ornithologist, this was definitely still bird-shaped at least. It fluttered its wings like a newborn bird, then hopped around on one foot. Her face hurt from the strain of her grin.

Sakura’s bird would inspire a rude nickname from Sai, but it was hers. Her surprise was eclipsed by her pride.

Fly, she thought, then rolled her eyes at herself. “Fly.”

It turned its head to look at her and if Sakura didn’t know better, she’d say it was offended. But she just smiled back at it and verbally encouraged it again. The ink bird hopped around the room for a few minutes before deciding to give her suggestion a try.

Do ink creatures always act like this?

Maybe she wasn’t exerting enough control. Sakura tried to focus on the bird, thinking of flighty and strength synonyms and parallels, with no clue if it would even have an effect. The ink bird hopped again, then braced itself, bending low before pushing off the floor. Sakura let out a small “whoop!” of excitement before restraining herself. She didn’t want to wake her hosts. The ink bird struggled to remain upright for a few seconds before finally finding its equilibrium. The bird made no sound other than the flapping of its wings as it spun around and began to glide around the room.

It was weak. It was barely airborne. It was jagged and jittery and all things unstable. But she was so bloody proud of it.

Sakura sat back on the floor and just watched it, her grin never fading. When it finally ran out of steam and collided with the wall next to her bathroom, it exploded, leaving a weird splatter of ink against the wall that looked like a child had thrown paint at it carelessly. She laughed out loud at it.

Almost there.

.:.

She fell asleep trying to make another one. Her exhaustion was a killer.

When she finally woke again, Sakura was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed. She’d always had good chakra reserves, so the irony of having drained herself was not lost on her. The night had been spent trying to perfect that bird she’d succeeded in creating.

After she finally succeeded in conjuring the bird, she’d just let herself slip away. Luckily, the cold air from her open window had woken her up when the moon was still high in the sky, so she was able to clean up without risk of alerting her hosts. Then she’d promptly sat back on the floor and fallen asleep again.

Now, looking at the ink splatter the first bird had made on the wall, she was glad it had not collided with the back of the door. It would’ve messed up the numbered kanji she’d been writing in charcoal, to keep a count of her time in this gilded cage that was Suna. Sakura finally stood, grabbed the charcoal, and haphazardly wrote the kanji for the number sixteen on the back of the door for yet another day wasted in this village then tossed the compressed carbon residue back in her bag.

She stared at the long, messy list of kanji. The door was tall, and her scribblings hadn’t taken up much space yet, but they were beginning to look less legible.

Like I truly am losing my damn, fucking mind.

“Can’t lose what you never had.”

She knew something had been missing from her night of ink creating debauchery. Sakura scowled at her mirage then turned away, ignoring it. Instead, she threw herself at the bed, determined to get at least a few hours of sleep before the damn thing decided to wake her up.

Sleep.

It really was a wonderful, warm and cosy battery. She closed her eyes.

And waited. And waited. Again. For a little bit longer…

Groaning, Sakura rolled onto her back, opening her eyes. This was getting annoying. She still felt exhausted but not tired. She shifted as though uncomfortable, getting more and more irritable. Eventually, she groaned and, unable to drift off, Sakura grabbed one of the ink bottles Kankuro had given her and sat up on the bed, thinking. It was her brain. That was the problem. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she was really supposed to be doing in Suna. And inevitably, her musings spiralled in a Danzo kind of direction.

It’s been two years.

Sakura sighed. Well, almost two years. Her out of village missions had begun several months short of that. Danzo had been so insistent, demanding mission after mission of what could only be characterised as attempts to kill her in the most violent ways possible. Once she wised up and realised what he was doing, she’d wondered why he bothered to send her at all.

Why not just kill me quietly inside the village and then tell people I’d died on a mission?

The end result would be the same and she’d be out of his hair. By that time, she would’ve readily accepted it. Those missions came shortly after a realisation that she was all alone and the only thing she was good for anymore was getting other people killed.

If she’d had the courage, Sakura would have taken care of it herself. A quick slice along her carotid artery or jugular vein and she could bleed out in minutes. It would be a nice and painless death (the bleeding out, not the wound), her organs shutting down as she slowly drifted off. But she was a kunoichi, so a more violent death was on the cards for her, not the easy way out. She just had to make her peace with that.

Still, if she had a kunai right now, the temptation would be there. Sakura didn’t believe she would ever take her own life unless absolutely necessary, like the blue light of glimmering flames of an Anbu about to be snuffed out. But she couldn’t help the dark process her thoughts took when she imagined what to do if she had a weapon like a kunai right now.

No, first she’d go over every charcoal marking on the back of her bedroom door with the blade, carving them in permanently. Her first night here she’d lamented the loss of that possibility.

What next?

She wouldn’t touch the cactus that Matsuri and Yukata had given her. It felt disrespectful somehow. But the bed side table it lived on would be fair game. Chakra infused kunai straight down the middle of it. Or something not so lame as that. She’d figure it out then. Hm. The wardrobe was boring. The rest of the furniture was just… ugh.

I am so uninventive.

But there was a full-length mirror behind the large closet door that she used after dressing. It felt like such a shame to simply drag the tip of the kunai along its fragile glass. If Sakura really wanted to do some damage, she had her chakra scalpel to smash it. No, she’d have to think of something else for the mirror.

Sakura sighed. Not that it mattered anyway.

Her thoughts drifted back to Danzo but, had they ever really left?

She’d been making a mental note of the missions he’d given her over the years, and this was the perfect time to get them down on paper. Fortunately, Kankuro had provided normal paper as well, given that she would need something to write on with ink he had graciously given her. According to her lie.

Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty about tricking him?

Oh well.

She used the pillow to support herself and the paper as she sat back against the headboard of the bed, hand poised to write her list.

First year.

Sakura wrote the few missions she could think of, in bullet point form, leaving some space for things she might remember later. That year had been the worst, because it took her a while to adjust to the way Danzo did things. It was painful, shifting from Tsunade’s rule to his. And so suddenly. Abrupt and jarring.

It was a year of hell, including her very first seduction mission. She shivered at the memory of it, even now. Men were perverts. The whole bloody lot of them. On the surface, it was just another mission meant to devalue her worth, much like the ones that followed. Buried deep beneath that tainted surface lie a bloodied truth that she was less important than the steel she carried with her. Her first time as prey for men and she was oh-so bad at it. At first. Sakura wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t upped her game, so to speak.

She shuddered again. Ink dripped from the edge of her pen; the same pen she’d stolen from downstairs. It was leaking. She wiped it on the side of the paper absentmindedly.

No matter what they did to her, she kept crawling back to Konoha. Her sick, twisted mind kept retreating to the village. Where else did she have to return to?

“Admit it, Danzou broke your weak arse before you even left for your first mission.”

Sakura had no rebuttal for that. It was true. She’d cracked. Months of pain, mind games and fatigue mixed in with both sensory deprivation and malnutrition would do that to a person. But somehow, she figured that wasn’t what the mirage was talking about.

Whatever.

Second year.

Officially, seduction missions were off the table after what had cruelly become known as the Temper-Tenten-Tantrum.

The Foundation are clever with their mocking, aren’t they? Bastards.

Sakura had been forced into dangerous missions in her first year but nothing like what Danzo had ordered her into during the second. The suicide missions had only been the past six months before this one to Suna, but for about the same amount of time before that, they’d been escalating towards it. She went from babysitting nobles who lined Danzo’s pockets (who were also perverts) to assassinations to joining doomed team missions. All of that diluted with solo missions that she, more often than not, failed due to having to choose between death and a slim hope of success.

The violence was the glaring common denominator amongst them all. But when she factored in the politics of each mission, the goal, and threat level, none of it linked up. It all seemed so random. Could it have all just been a coincidence?

No, no. It has to mean something.

She reread her list a few more times, squinting at the words as she attempted to fill in the blanks.

Seduction mission. Babysit an arsehole mission. Stand-in for someone who was due to be assassinated. Seduction mission. Babysitting more arseholes mission. Actual assassination mission. Retrieval missions. Go get yourself fucking killed mission.

In her memory, and without a list, they had always just blurred together. Her feelings about each mission just bleeding into one big ball of repression. Sakura pushed it all down, like she’d been doing from the start. She didn’t want to remember the specifics. That’s not what this list was about. It was about Danzo.

What the fuck is he really up to?

Sakura stared down at her final list. She refused to believe the bastard didn’t have a diabolic, long-term plan. She was missing something. It was just going to take time to figure it all out.

She yawned suddenly and sighed. It could wait until morning. Her body was finally shifting into “must sleep” mode and no way was she going to ignore it.

The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling into her bedroom, and she groaned at the lost time. She rolled her eyes before closing them to sleep.

Sleep.

.:.

Why was she still here? Where did the time go? Night became morning but still the darkness lingered. Her mind still tittered about useless, unimportant things. Blood. Death. Murder. All the things she’d known before but had never been a reality. They came when she opened her eyes. They stayed when she closed them. Nesting behind her eyelids. In the black of that faux reprieve.

Gaara still hadn’t spoken to her.

She was going insane.

Another day blackened to night.

Why am I still here?

.:.

The room was dark and cold. The air was frigid. But she couldn’t feel that. Instead, she felt the shock of heat that raced through her body. The hot flame that didn’t set her on fire. But it did burn. It seared.

It was trying to kill her.

“Again.”

This time she screamed. Her brittle voice bounced off the walls, magnifying the sound. Each pitiful whimper made her jerk in pain at the sound of herself. Spasms, twitches, involuntary convulsions, and loss of muscle control. She cried as the cold hand of the jutsu came down. Again, and again. Her wet body conducted the electricity.

“Again.”

“Stop!” She screamed.

The air left her lungs and she gasped. “Please, stop.”

“Let the record show the time and date.”

How long had they been torturing her for? A week this time. Strapped to a metal chair in the interrogation room that was Ibiki-free these days. She blinked heavily through her blurry vision as her tormentor leaned closer, his face in hers.

“You will admit your guilt,” he said.

“I—”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. Her body arched as he hit her; her head snapped painfully to the side.

“Admit it and all this will end.”

She sobbed and clenched her fists, pulling her body in as tight as she could in her restraints.

“She needs another dose.”

Sakura never knew what they were injecting her with. She struggled against their hold as several Root took pleasure in grabbing her. Holding her down. Touching places they had no business touching. Tilting her head. Sharp jabbing pain. Then a foul liquid was forced down her throat and she was losing grip on reality.

How much time had passed?

The next thing she knew, Sakura came to with her interrogator pacing in front of her, monologuing. She couldn’t even smile at the cliché evil bad guy look he had on his face. She tried to open her mouth to tell him. She was about to tell him. She had to tell him he was a fucking arsehole. That the world would be a better place if he sliced his throat open and bled out onto the floor. The words wouldn’t come.

But then he stopped. Her mouth snapped shut and the sudden pressure of expectation left her body. Straps were being released. Rough hands that didn’t care if they were hurting her in the process. She was being set free.

Free?

Sakura let out a pitiful sob of relief. He mistook it for compliance. She almost told him he could do whatever he wanted to her as long as he just let her go. She almost broke down. She almost let him win.

“Is she ready?”

“We’ll find out.”

Sakura fell to her knees, crying out as her skin scraped against the hard floor, ripping new, raw wounds. Manacles released, she immediately pulled away from her captors, scrambling into the corner. The water that had tormented her just as much as the lightning jutsu; it swam about her as she moved abruptly. Out of a bucket? Or spilled from a water hand sign? She didn’t know.

She looked up to see a blurry, familiar face that almost made her smile. An image of Tsunade in her mind, looking down at her, saddened at the state of her.

“I’m sorry.” She spluttered at her hallucination, then hugged her legs and buried her face in her knees. “I’m so sorry.”

Her captor hovered over her.

Danzo lowered his voice to a rasp. “You will be.”

.:.

Salty tears stained her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open. Warmth and comfort replaced frigid cold and hard. She was safe. She inhaled deeply, the bland colouring of the ceiling staring down at her. A gasp and a shudder; she focused on her breathing. There was no panic, but one could never be too careful.

The previous day she’d returned to her wedding plan duties and slept half the time. She was more awake at night, since the first creation of her ink creatures. This nightmare had come out of nowhere.

Sakura rolled over and fresh tears trailed down over the old ones, gravity diverting them into the corner of her mouth. She wiped at them before pushing herself into a seated position. She sniffed and looked around for tissues. Finding none, she grabbed a roll of toilet paper instead. It was nowhere near as soft, but it did the job.

She didn’t want to mentally unpack the nightmare that was more like a memory. She’d had too many of them over the years but there was something surreal about the vividness of the ones that assaulted her lately. She rubbed at her eyes carelessly and tossed the used squares of toilet paper into the bin.

Enough of that.

Her dream lied.

Danzo had never tortured her personally. Except for in specific circumstances when he wanted to either showcase his control or take credit for something his lackeys achieved, delegation and voyeurism were his bread and butter. His lackeys were the ones with the honour that came with tormenting her. Danzo had been there at first but quickly realised she would not give so easily. He was a busy man. He had a village to run. And a nation to squeeze until he could convince the daimyo to attack the others.

He couldn’t waste time torturing an insignificant kunoichi, even if she had been in Tsunade’s inner circle.

No, it was Root shadows that used lightning jutsu conducted through a body of water like a full bucket to make her scream. It was their favourite weapon of choice, for the most part. It was like electroshock therapy – an outdated and barbaric practise she’d heard about in a medical scroll about forbidden techniques where chakra application was optional. The idea of which was to trigger a brain seizure and “cure” the patient of any number of things. She supposed the Root thought they were curing her of loyalty to Tsunade.

Didn’t fucking work.

Not really. It just made her not care anymore.

Sakura fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm her breaths. The tears were dry, and she probably looked like shit, so she forced herself to get up and wash her face in the bathroom. The face that stared back at her in the clear and clean mirror above the sink was hollow and pale. She tried a strained smile, and it just made her look creepy. She rubbed her fingers gently over her face, outlining her cheekbones and grimaced.

I used to be pretty.

And she used to care about that.

But now?

Sakura had a lower opinion of herself than she used to, it was true. But still, she couldn’t help the resurgence of the vanity that had consumed her all those years ago. Sure, she looked like a shell of her former self, but she could still trace the high cheekbones with her forefinger, the surprisingly still soft feel of her skin; her face framed by her pink hair.

I’m still pretty.

Just hidden under a thick film of perpetual blood and grime, no matter how much she scrubbed herself in the shower. And her eyes only sparkled now when they were wet with tears or blood.

What Gaara must think of me.

Of the girl he thought of as a future bride.

She scoffed.

I’m an idiot for worrying about that. And so is he if he does care.

It was easy to mock Gaara, and herself, in her head. The idea that he’d care if she was still pretty, was ridiculous. And the fact that she did still care what she looked like was stupid. But if the Kazekage came to her right now and told her she was pretty, said she was beautiful, her heart would clench. Her smile would be genuine. Hell, she’d likely blush like a genin getting attention from their academy crush. It was because she really did like him…. No, respect him. He and Kankuro both reminded her of what she’d lost, but in a longing and familiar way, not grieving or remembering painful things. But somehow, she couldn’t picture what her reaction would be if the older brother told her he found her attractive. She mused on that. It made her wonder what would happen if she stayed in Suna. With Gaara.

Without marrying him… of course.

Her heart pained at the thought. First, she needed to get rid of the shadow and kill Danzo.

Dangerous ideals.

She shook herself of these painful thoughts. No. She was better off alone. Trusting anyone other than herself had been unsafe for over two years and that wasn’t about to change so easily.

Sakura ran her hands under the running water and washed her face again. And again. And again. When she finally turned the tap off, she could suddenly hear the rain her subconsciousness had smelled through the open window ten minutes ago.

It’s not raining.

It couldn’t be. That was crazy. Rain in Suna? It defied everything she knew about the region at this time of year. Though it wasn’t unheard of, it…. No, she had no idea how to finish that train of thought. This was just nuts.

Maybe Suna’s caught my crazy.

Sakura cracked opened her bedroom window and was immediately met with the pitter-patter of what looked and sounded like a cloudburst, not to mention smelled of dust and rain. She couldn’t help the genuine smile and licked her dry lips.

It was still nighttime. Stars still twinkled down at her weakly through the drizzly distortions. Lights that would be gone in a few hours when the sun finally rose. Giving into temptation, she pushed the window the rest of the way open and stepped onto the frame, pulling herself out and up onto the roof. Illuminated by what little stars could be seen behind the cloudburst and the bright moon that even the darkest cloud couldn’t hide, she made her way to the roof of the Kazekage’s mansion.

A flat surface on top of a circular body.

Sakura smiled to herself as she lifted her face to catch the rain, arms stiffly by her side. These sun showers were rare in Suna, apparently. It would be gone in a few minutes, so she waited it out, eyes closed and smile wide. It was almost meditative. It was calming. It was unobtrusive.

It was dangerous.

Her only warning was a shift in the air, like that rushing weight at sudden altitude changes, and her ears popped. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she turned quickly on the spot. The air changed around her. The shimmering of unfamiliar chakra. She’d missed it at first, so lost in her bliss. Her stupid moment of weakness.

How had he broken the barrier jutsu?

I let my guard down in enemy territory. Dumb.

But who was the real enemy?

Now, her blood boiled. She could hear her heart racing in her ears as her attacker fell on her from above. Men typically had a physical superiority, but with her chakra enhanced strength, she easily flipped him flat on his back. Heavily. It wasn’t enough to break anything since she’d reacted with surprise rather than strength. The man immediately rolled away from her and climbed to his feet.

Sakura sized him up.

Covered completely in black, like a cliché ninja and not wearing any kind of typical battle gear. His face was hidden behind a skin-tight mask, complete with a respirator, like the shinobi in the rain village wore. They all hid their faces, there, even if they didn’t always wear the mouthpiece. Sakura had gone head-to-head with enough of them to know it was just a thing they did. They wore masks to deflect the sun or water from their jutsu.

Water.

Sakura resisted the urge to look up into the sky again, keeping her eyes firmly on the enemy in front of her, the reminder of her blundering into the jutsu wet and soggy on her skin. She was soaked to the bone now. Her opponent shifted into a more offensive stance and readied a kunai. Meanwhile, Sakura was unarmed. Technically speaking.

Lightning chakra sizzled its way onto his blade, and she stiffened. There had to be some kind of trick because the rain didn’t conduct it into him. He nodded curtly. “Hi, pinky.”

Unfamiliar and muffled voice. Unfamiliar and subtle chakra. No headband, despite his attempt to copy Rain ninja clothing. He clearly wasn’t an official visitor to the village hidden in the sand.

I can kill him.

As he moved, Sakura reacted instinctively. She couldn’t touch the kunai directly and erred on the side of caution that he might be able to conduct the lightning through the air if she got too close. What she did was kick up toward his elbow, forcing him to change the angle of his approach. She needed him to open himself enough to lay her hands on his chest or weaker arm. Somewhere.

When he inevitably dodged her attack, she kicked out in front of her, toward his shin. He evaded that too. He was fast.

I’m faster.

It wasn’t just because of her evasion training with Tsunade. Two years of having to be faster or deader than her opponent had honed her avoidance skills even further. Something she had become a master at in other areas of her life too, truth be told. But Sakura had no lightning or wind techniques under her belt to directly combat the enemy jutsu, despite the expansion of her repertoire over the last few years.

Does he know this already?

She channelled chakra to her feet for a push of speed and darted to the side as her assailant lunged toward her. He shifted direction but she was already behind him, shoving her fist into his back. She could feel the give of his spine immediately, but her intent wasn’t to paralyse him, not yet. The mixed nerves along the spine were both fibres that transmitted sensory and motor control impulses between the spinal cord and the rest of the body. Any medic worth their salt knew how to dampen them just enough to hamper movement without stopping it completely.

She wanted a challenge, but not to be completely overwhelmed. And the sick, twisted knowledge that she could take his motor functions from him at any time.

This is not something I’d have even considered doing before Danzo.

Ignoring that line of thought, Sakura grabbed a hold of her would-be assassin’s shirt and spun him around. He used the momentum to lash at her again and she felt the crackle of his lightning enhanced kunai as it missed her by mere inches, but angry sparks of searing heat lashed out and grazed her face and neck. Wincing and gasping, she ignored the pain and grabbed his wrist mid-air, then squeezed. Her super strength broke all eight bones in his wrist and a handful of more in the rest of his hand. She also touched his back with her fingertips, severing some of the nerves in his spinal column permanently.

He fumbled, letting out a soft cry, dropping his weapon. Sakura caught it, the lightning crackling against her skin before disappearing. She held tighter to it, gripping the handle even more firmly once it full dissipated. It felt hot, pulsing through the palm of her hand. Third degree burns did that.

Luckily, it was still raining.

The man had to have another weapon, right? She decided not to drag this out by letting him dig into his ninja pouch, even in his weakened state. Maintaining her hold on his wrist, Sakura infused her own chakra into her new kunai and shoved it into his eye. His screams were muffled by the rain, but she heard him loud and clear. It made her smile, twisting her mouth into the most genuine look of excitement she’d felt her face stretch into for a long time. The brain was behind the eye, but Sakura knew that this kind of stab wound was rarely, immediately fatal. He thrashed as much as he could with limited motor functions, falling to the ground. She pounced on him, using her super strength to keep him from flailing too much.

What am I doing?

She wasn’t sure. The missions and battles of times before Danzo’s take over were hazy in her brain, so much so that she barely remembered how to fight without causing massive, bodily trauma. It was what the Root commander who’d groomed her had pounded into her.

Don’t go for the quick kill unless time is an issue.

Quick, painless kills were for weak shinobi. And she was supposed to be pretending to be strong. She looked down at her enemy, helpless underneath her as she held him against the rooftop, her knowledge of anatomy making him as useless as a genin under her power. As easily as her enhanced chakra strength could on its own. His pitiful attempts to summon more lightning chakra without use of his broken hand and no way of getting her off him reminded her of herself when those kinds of jutsu were once used to fry her into compliance.

Pitiful.

And there it was. Sympathy. Guilt. For what she’d just done to him.

Maybe I’m still me. A little bit.

She almost wrenched herself away from him. But that would give him leeway she couldn’t afford.

Sakura didn’t need to rip him. She didn’t need to pull him apart. Or even take her time showing him his insides before she finally ended things. No, he wasn’t her true enemy. The ones who tricked him into coming here and getting himself killed. She would save her most inventive torture for them. She took in the would-be assassin’s wide eyes, panicked look, trying to imagine him gasping into that mouthpiece, struggling to breathe. It was enough that he knew this was coming.

Switching her new kunai to the hand still holding him down, she concentrated chakra into the fingertips of her other hand and formed a chakra scalpel. With a screech, Sakura thrust her weaponised hand into her assailant’s throat. Blood splattered over her extremities, and she felt the warm stickiness of it on her face. The would-be assassin gasped, coughing, and spraying more blood onto her person. It didn’t take long for him to fall dead silent.

If he was capable of choking on his own blood right now, it would be quite the sight.

Sakura fell backwards as though in shock, an iron grip on the kunai even as it shook in her hand. Even as she recognised this weapon had been meant to kill her. She couldn’t let go of it. She had torn it from him. Tormented him. It was hers now.

The rain quickly died, and she suddenly knew why. She already knew why. But now she knew.

Blood dripped from the blade, fighting against the weight of lingering moisture from the rain jutsu. Blood dripped from her fingertips.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Like a faucet. Like a lifeline. And her head was throbbing.

She sighed. The tension in her body released and she let out a low, bark of a laugh. Bum on the wet ground and blood on her person despite the fact that it had just been raining and she suddenly found the whole thing hilarious. She looked up at the night sky as it started to lighten before her eyes. Was it closer to dawn than she’d realised? The stars were twinkling ever so faintly, the drizzly distortions no longer blocking them. They were saying goodnight. Goodbye.

Don’t look at the body.

Sakura climbed to her feet as she sensed the familiar chakra. She should’ve sensed it before. Sensed him. She glanced at Gaara in her peripherals, realising he’d been watching nearby. He was so stoic. So seemingly disconnected. But the slow blinking made her wonder if he was forcing his apparent calm. She knew some of his tells already.

He doesn’t twitch. He flows. He doesn’t have any kind of jerky movements.

But she felt oddly composed under his intense stare.

“He doesn’t trust you, idiot.”

She couldn’t see her mirage. Perhaps it was hiding behind the blotch in her vision. Or the body of her kill.

“So instead of killing that stupid shadow that’s been taunting you, practically begging for it, you kill a random assassin instead?”

She really didn’t understand its confusion. She could kill this man. It was the perfect situation to let out her frustrations. Nobody would bat an eye at his death. Unless they were witness to it, maybe. Sakura glanced at Gaara again.

“His blood won’t wash off your skin so easily. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Oh, so many things.

She sighed. Quietly, Gaara still watched her, perhaps waiting to see what she would do next. She cocked her head toward him, much like he did when detecting his Anbu in the area. The move got a reaction out of him; he shuffled his feet. Elegantly, she might add. Maybe he was disgusted by what she’d done. The man who used to literally house a demon. But he hadn’t interfered. She realised now, outside of her blood haze, that he’d been there the moment the would-be-assassin had made their move.

And he trusted me to handle it… right?

That or he just didn’t care.

Or the rain kept him and his sand at bay.

Or both. Or neither. Did he care?

These thoughts were dangerous and wishful thinking. There was no need to look further into this. Her heart was racing as her head began to pound loudly in her ears. Gripping her new kunai tighter in her fist, Sakura turned and walked away, still not looking at the body.

He watched her go.

.:.

Madness had many faces. Many guises. And tonight, it wore the mask of Sakura Haruno.

Gaara had never seen anyone he considered an ally look so bloodthirsty. Not for a long time. He knew the madness that had wrangled her. He’d seen it in the mirror for most of his life. He understood it. But where was her demon? It wasn’t a tangible tormentor or voice in her ear, like his had been. Not from what he could tell. But it was there, all the same.

Danzo.

Of course. It would all be tracked back to him. She wasn’t like this before.

It started with her ragged appearance on arrival to Suna. Then that scream the night he’d sent his third eye to check on her. And the state of her afterward. And it was in her everyday demeanour, not to mention how she would casually trauma dump on him as though it wasn’t a big deal to be the victim of sexual assault on missions, let alone the blasé way she’d talked about hurting others.

And then, what she’d done to that would-be assassin…

It wasn’t like a ninja’s life was flowers and rainbows before this Cold War but at least then there had been a consensus that bodily autonomy was to be respected, and that those who violated it were vile scum. Worse than scum.

Now all bets are off.

Gaara ran a hand over his face as he stared at the dead body of the attacker. The rooftop was still wet and bloodied from his jutsu and death throes. A real rain would have to come to clean it. He wasn’t going to put it on official record that it needed to be done manually. Gaara sighed, narrowing his eyes at the lifeless invader. He knew from looking at the man that he was meant to give the impression he didn’t come from any particular village, despite his similarities to rain ninja. He’d been Kazekage for seven years and knew all the darkest secrets of his beloved village. Even the ones the council had tried to hide from him.

Gaara didn’t react as an Anbu dropped silently next to him. The masked ninja released a scroll and moved the body into it, before nodding to his Kazekage and disappearing just as wordlessly. He’d be taking it to Baki. He wouldn’t be mentioning this. Ever. This would be their secret.

Hidden villages and their secrets.

And he was a party to them. It never sat well with him, but what else could he do? So many secrets and enemies. He glanced up at the sky, realising belatedly that the Root shadow was nowhere to be found. He’d been absent this whole time.

He probably knows, though, the sneak.

Gaara sighed and teleported himself into his home office, where he’d been when he sensed the invading chakra in the first place. The cracking of the seal. But there was no focusing on his late-night work after everything he’d just witnessed. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fight on the roof of his home. He sank heavily into his chair, trying to process everything.

Going after the protégé of the Fifth Hokage was a mistake, no matter how much she’d been leashed these past years. Of that, even Gaara understood. The least of the would-be assassin’s transgressions had been to force his way through the sealed barrier. At least the Root member had the decency to wait until he could figure out how to do it quietly. This had been brazened, seemingly with a presumption that nobody was going to notice such brute force.

Assuming he was working alone.

Which Gaara didn’t believe for a minute. It had been a foreign shinobi. There were several possible reasons for the attempted assassination, and many more that he was supposed to believe were the true intentions of this attack. In reality, it was likely supposed to be an attack on Suna’s security more than anything else, but the fake implication? His first guess was that the façade was meant to make it look like someone was pissed about this sham of an engagement between himself and Sakura. That was the most obvious intention, in his opinion.

Nice and cut dry.

The most suspicious part was how the Root shadow had been absent during the attack. Gaara presumed that the man wanted through the barrier, but he had not come running the moment it was breeched. So, either he really was just deliberately fucking with everyone’s nerves every time he skirted its boundary, or he wanted in under the radar. For a more quiet and underhanded purpose.

To kill Sakura?

That would be Gaara’s first guess. Sneak in under the seal then kill her, making it look like negligence on Suna’s part. Perhaps as an excuse for open war. Or whatever Danzo was really after. But there was no way a single shinobi, no matter how skilled they were with barrier jutsu, could break through it on their own. Unless they had enormous chakra reserves like Naruto…

It was further proof that someone in the council was working against Suna.

Gaara slumped over, resting his forehead on his desk in an out of character show of frustration. What it all it came down to was, the fact that Sakura was not safe in Suna. Or anywhere else. He needed to beef up security and keep a closer eye on her himself. Then there was the matter of her mental instability. She was worse off than he had realised. And Gaara still had no idea what to do about it.

In all honesty… her brand of madness scared the hell out of him.

.:.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Alternate au: Prologue

Cesar asks his best friend Mark for a small favor in the middle of the night, but never considered the terrible things his request would cause.

Notes: uh, hey! never posted my writing before, so. here’s something for the alternate au! It’s around 6500 words, so it’s a bit of a long read, but I hope you guys like it anyway. 

TW: possible suicide implication, death, and blood 

           Mark was awoken in the middle of the night to the rotary phone in the living room ringing. It was faint, as it was situated downstairs from his bedroom, but still loud enough to wake him from a deep sleep. He stirred awake, groaning as he regained his bearings. His chestnut-colored hair was a mess, but he wasn’t planning on fixing it; not that late at night anyway. He stood up, walking over the piles of snack wrappers and dirty clothes in his room as he made his way downstairs to the living room. He sighed, grabbing onto the phone before lifting it up to his ear. “Hello?” He asked, trying to use his best “I’ve been awake for a while” voice.

           “Hey, uh, Mark, it’s Cesar…I…I hope it’s not too late.” It was the voice of a young man, though he sounded a tad more worried than his usual upbeat tone.

           “No, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Mark assured. “What’s going on, are you alright?”

           “It’s…it’s not me, it’s my mom.” Cesar explained. “I found her on the ground; she…she was knocked out cold, and I don’t know why.” Cesar paced back in forth in the local hospital, holding the cell phone up to his ear as he rubbed his arm with his free hand. “We…w-we got home from my piano recital, and she…I found her on the ground after she went into the other room.” Cesar glanced down at his suit; a black tuxedo complimented by a white undershirt, a red bowtie, and a rose pinned to his lapel. He didn’t feel it was the most appropriate clothing to wear at the moment, but he didn’t have the time nor the energy to change.

           “Is…is there anything I can do to help?” Mark asked, unsure of how to feel due to how exhausted he felt.

           “I…I’m sorry, but could you…go over to my house?” Cesar requested. “To turn on the cameras we have set up…the ones we installed after we were robbed?”

           “Yeah, of course.” Mark said. “Can I ask…why?”

           “I…I was wondering if…she saw something.” Cesar sighed. “She screamed really loud, so…I-I don’t know.”

           “Did you have all your doors and windows locked?” Mark asked. “Like what the broadcast told us to do?”

           “Yeah, that’s the weird part.” Cesar said. “I…I just…”

           “I’ll be over in a while,” Mark said. “But I’m just going to turn them on and get out of there. You…you know how I feel about your house.”

           “Yeah, no problem.” Cesar said. “Oh, could you…make sure the back hallway cam is on? That hallway specifically…i-it’s been weird.”

           “…Okay?”

           “Thank you…it…it means more than you can think.” Cesar said. “I owe you big time.”

           “It’s no problem, really.” Mark shrugged.

           “I’m at the hospital now, so…I’ll talk to you later.” Cesar sighed. “Thank you again…see ya.”

           “See you too. Goodbye.” Mark heard the line disconnect, sighing deeply as he mentally prepared himself to leave. It had been a while since he left the house, and he wasn’t too keen on leaving while it was dark out. However, it was Cesar; Cesar had done so much for him, so doing one simple favor wouldn’t be the end of the world. Mark looked down at his clothes, which were a light grey sweatshirt over a black T-shirt along with dull pink sweatpants. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort to change out of his pajamas; it wasn’t like he had anyone he needed to impress that night.

           As he approached the front door, he paused, staring at the door knob before pulling his hand back. He jogged back to his room, looking around before his gaze landed on his nightstand. He pulled open the drawer, rummaging through the crumpled papers and junk before he grabbed something. He pulled it out, revealing a pistol in its own holster. He took it out of its leather cover, removing the clip before looking into it, seeing that it was in fact loaded. He sighed quietly before putting the clip back into the firearm, deciding that he was now ready to leave the house.

             The roads were cloaked in an inky black darkness, only broken when the headlights of Mark’s car pierced through them. His pensive stare was fixed on the road before him, wondering when he was finally going to make it to Cesar’s house. If there was one thing he hated about his friendship with Cesar, it would have been the nearly hour long drive between their houses. Living outside of town might have been a good choice for one who likes silence, but not for someone who wanted to be on time for school every morning. No wonder Cesar was almost always late for the first class of the day.

           Mark turned off of the main road, driving into a small gravel lane as his car traversed the unsteady road. Mark glanced towards the edge of the woods, the trees of which lining both sides of the street. The woods seemed somehow darker that night, with no light shining through the leaves, covering the forest floor in shadows. When Mark’s headlights caught something in the distance however, he was finally allowed to let out his breath. It didn’t prevent his dread from growing however, as he now had to face the fact that he was now at Cesar’s house.

           Mark’s lights hit the white garage door and the front door to the right of it. The red brick walls faded into the darkness outside of the range of light, as if the night was consuming the house altogether. Mark reached for his car keys, but hesitated to pull them out of the ignition. He looked at the garage door, seeing the light the headlights offered before pulling his hands away from the keys. He may have had a flashlight and a firearm with him, but that wasn’t nearly enough to ease his stress. At least knowing the car was there and working would help.

           Mark left the safety of his vehicle, approaching the wooden door and reaching for the door knob. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and despite the dread in his chest building, Mark chalked it up to Cesar trying to be nice and saving Mark the effort of remembering where they left the key. That, or Cesar was in too much of a rush to remember to lock it. Either way, Mark had a job to do; go in, turn on the cameras, and get out. It was that simple.

           Mark flicked every light in the house on as he walked through the rooms, turning on every camera he found. He was as swift and silent as a mouse, hoping that the quicker he turned everything on, the quicker he would be able to leave. He may have been rushing more than necessary, though he wasn’t wishing to stay in that creepy house any longer than he absolutely had to. Something about the dark halls and silent rooms made Mark’s skin crawl, as if he was constantly being watched by someone.

           When he reached the final camera, he flicked it on, seeing the small red light flash. “Thank God…” Mark sighed, stepping away from the camera. He turned and walked the opposite direction, leaving the bedroom where the camera was fixed and towards the front door. His joy over being able to leave was short lived however, as he remembered that there was still one more camera that was inactive; the back hallway.

           Mark looked towards the hallway from the living room, seeing the shadows concealing its walls. Something in Mark gave him the urge to just leave it behind, go home, and go back to sleep, but Cesar mentioned that camera specifically. If Cesar came home to see the camera not on, who knew what it would do to his trust in Mark? With that thought alone, Mark sucked up his fear and walked into the hallway.

He looked up at the camera in the top corner of the hall, wondering how he could turn it on if it wasn’t even within his reach. To his knowledge, Cesar and his mother didn’t have a ladder hanging around in a convenient spot, so Mark figured that stretching his arms out as far as possible would be a better option. He raised his arms, gritting his teeth as he stood on his toes, his hands just barely reaching the camera. When his hands made contact, Mark quickly flicked it on, immediately dropping back onto his feet with a slight smile on his face. “There we go…” He whispered as he turned back towards the living room, finally ready to leave that freaky house and have a nice night’s sleep.

“Mark?” Cesar’s voice was faint, but distinguishable. Despite its familiarity, it still made Mark flinch.

“Cesar?” Mark turned around, towards one of the dark guest rooms where the voice originated. “…I…I thought you were at the hospital?”

“I…I’m sorry, but could you…go over to my house?” Cesar asked.

“I…I’m already here, dude—”

“Yeah, it’s not me it’s my mom.” Cesar’s voice continued. “She’s knocked out cold and I have no idea why.”

“…Uh…Cesar…?” Mark’s weird feeling only became worse, forcing him to start backing away from the back room. “This better not be one of your fucking jokes, man—”

“Yeah of course…may I ask why?” That specific line made Mark realize something; a realization that made his blood run cold. That voice was his own, meaning whatever was in the room, and whatever he was talking to, was not Cesar.

Mark scrambled towards the front door, slamming into it and forcing it open. His shoulder stung from the impact, the pain reverberating down his arm, but he wasn’t in the position to care. The faint sound of laugher was heard from the house as Mark rushed to his car, only giving more reason to not look back. He dove into his car, feeling overwhelming gladness over the fact that he left the keys in the ignition. He backed the vehicle away from the house, swinging the car around before he sped down the gravel road.

He must have been going at least double the speed limit down the main road, but Mark’s pure fear outweighed his rational thoughts. He never even saw what was in the house, but Mark knew deep down that whatever was in the other room was a much more powerful, much more malicious being than Mark could ever be. If the broadcast on beings called “alternates” was as true as it seemed, than Mark could be sure that whatever was there was one of them. He just hoped that he left soon enough to lose it.

He slammed on the breaks as soon as he made it to his house, climbing out of the car, closing the door, and sprinting inside, his breath harsh and heavy. He threw the front door open before slamming it shut behind him, locking every single lock on it. He frantically glanced around, his eyes fixating on a table right beside the door, with nothing but a small vase on top of it. Mark grasped onto the corners of the table pulling it towards the door before shoving it in front of it, blocking it off.

He gasped, but he wasn’t able to catch his breath just yet, as he had multiple doors and windows he had to give the same treatment. He hurried from one edge of the house to the other, blocking off doors and locking every window he ran by. When he knew for certain that every single entrance was blocked off, he finished his dash by approaching his phone, picking it up before dialing 911. “Come on…please…” Mark gasped, hearing the line buzz.

“You’ve reached the Mandela County Police Department, what is your emergency?” The operator on the other end stated. It may not have been a typical 911 operator, but Mark was willing to take anything.

“H-Hello?” Mark stammered. “I-I was…I…I don’t—I need the police.”

“Please calm down, sir,” The operator said calmly. “Can you describe your emergency?”

“I-I was…I was at a friend’s house, a-and I heard something…It...It sounded…like my friend, and then it sounded like me!” Mark explained. “I drove away, but…I don’t know, what if he gets home and…it’s there?”

The operator didn’t respond to that comment, remaining strangely silent.

“P-Please…help me, I don’t know if it followed me or not.” Mark begged.

“Alright, calm down…help is on the way.” The operator hung up, and the phone let out a faint beeping noise as Mark stared at it.

“Wh-Why would—” Mark threw the phone down, grasping onto his head. Why the fuck would a 911 operator hang up?! Was that not something they were specifically told not to do?! Mark paced around his living room, forcing himself to take in deep breaths in order to calm himself down. He stared at the ceiling, freezing when something crossed his mind; where was his gun? He looked down at his body, not seeing the small holster anywhere on him. When he saw nothing, he slowly looked back at the front door, realizing he had forgotten it in the car.

Mark had two options before him; he could either hope and pray that the alternate didn’t follow him and leave the doors blocked off, or he could quickly run outside, grab the gun, and then go back inside. Without the firearm, Mark was alone and defenseless, and he wasn’t the type to take chances. He stared at the front door, breathing in deeply before he pensively approached the door, slowly shifting the table blocking it to the side. “Lord, give me strength,” Mark muttered under his breath as he unlocked the door. “…may you have mercy on me.”

He swung open the door, running towards his car as fast as he could manage. He threw open the car door before climbing in half way, rummaging through the messy car. “Where the fuck is it?” Mark questioned frantically, wondering where the hell he put it. He opened the storage compartment between the front seats, finally seeing the pistol resting inside. He grasped onto it before sliding out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

He ripped the holster off of the pistol, grasping onto the gun’s handle with an iron grip. He sighed, glancing down the road as he backed towards his house. He nearly froze when he started hearing something in the distance; indistinguishable words that Mark couldn’t make out. He stared down the road, hearing the words slowly become louder.

“God help me…” Mark said as he backed away.

Soon enough, his fears were realized, as he soon saw the figure producing the sounds. It was humanoid, with warped features that made Mark’s skin crawl. Its gangly legs were carrying it down the street, barely visible through the nightly darkness.

“God save me.” Mark whispered.

Mark scrambled towards his door, ignoring the laughing he heard outside before he threw the door behind him closed, only turning around to lock it tight. He once again grabbed onto the table, pulling it towards the door to block it off. However, a loud crash against the door made Mark stumble back, nearly falling to the ground. He swung his arm up, pointing the pistol towards the door with trembling hands, trying to conceal the sheer horror he felt growing inside of him.

“Mark…” The fake voice of Cesar called in a sing song voice, muffled by the wall separating it and Mark. “Open the door…I have a present for you…”

Mark wasn’t sure whether he should command it to leave or stay silent, hoping it would get bored and leave. However, he wasn’t sure if he could yell even if he wanted to, as any words he could say became stuck in his throat. Instead of saying anything, Mark fled from the living room, rushing up the stairway before seeking refuge in his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, locking it before backing away, still able to hear the increasingly aggressive knocking from the front door. He looked behind him, seeing the messy room and the items within, involving an unplugged television, a tape recorder, an empty notebook, and a few other random things Mark had lying around. However, the thing he took interest in wasn’t any of the objects he had; instead, it was the window on the wall adjacent to the door.

Mark rushed towards it, sliding it open before looking down. He got vertigo just by staring down at the front yard from the second story. With no roof or ledge to grab onto below, there was no way to escape that way without leaving with a broken leg. He stared forward, being able to see the lights of the town in the distance, breaking through the dark night. It was as if the thought of freedom was taunting him.

He couldn’t help but remember something about the movies he always watched. He and Cesar would often have a horror movie night, and both he and Mark noticed that the would-be victim always seemed to run up the stairs or down into the basement instead of leaving through the front door. So many exits, yet they always seemed to choose the worst one. Mark would laugh about how stupid they were when they got killed by the villain, but now he had no room to. He just fell into the same trap that oh so many horror movie characters fell into. He ran up the stairs, and he was now the victim-to-be.

He could hear the sound of one of the first floor windows smashing open, with the noise piercing his ears. He felt his heart sink as he closed the window and turned around, pressing his back against the wall before slinking to the ground. He turned to the nightstand resting to his right before rummaging through the drawer. He grabbed onto a book, the Holy Bible, before hugging it tightly, sobbing softly as he heard the thing creep up the stairs.

He muttered prayer after prayer, wondering what he had done to deserve such a fate. The false voice of his once good friend, beckoning him into a death trap, allowing something beyond his comprehension to follow him to the place he once saw as safe. He never wanted a favor; all “Cesar” wanted was to lure Mark to his death. Mark couldn’t think of any other explanation. What happened to the real Cesar he couldn’t tell, but all he knew is that something malevolent was right outside. He was all alone, and the MCPD wasn’t going to help him; he felt it in his bones. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have heard the sirens by then?

“Mark…I have a gift for you!” The voice outside Mark’s door claimed, its voice distorting like a busted VHS.

“Damn you…damn you…” Mark cried, his wide eyes staring at the floor in front of him as he huddled his knees close to his chest. “God damn you…”

He had no clue how long it was going to be before the thing left, but Mark had no choice but to wait. All he knew is that he didn’t want to see what was on the other side of that door.

Cesar; You fucking bastard.

 Cesar sat in a small, uncomfortable chair as he stared at his unconscious mother on the hospital bed. His arms were huddled close to his chest, his shaky hands gently rubbing his arms as if he was hugging himself. His lips were pursed together, and he didn’t even bother moving his wavy black hair out of his face. All he could hear was the sound of the hospitals many machines and phones, along with the heart monitor next to the bed.

He sighed quietly, leaning back in his seat before his gaze turned towards his feet. It was nearing one in the morning, judging by the ticking clock in the corner of the room. Cesar was beginning to notice how exhausted he felt as his stress and adrenaline faded away. He wondered how long it would take for the doctor to tell him what happened to her, but as the seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours, he didn’t count on that possibility.

He shook his head slightly, standing up before hesitantly leaving the room. He stood outside of the hospital room, clutching his mobile phone, dialing a few numbers, and holding it up to his ear. He put his free hand into his pants pocket, glancing from one end of the hallway to the other, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble for having his phone on.

The rotary phone in Mark’s living room let out a loud ring, echoing throughout the silent home. It rang and rang, yet no one came to answer it.

“You have reached the automated voice messaging system—” Cesar’s phone played the message, making him sigh in disappointment. “If you’d like to leave a message, please speak after the tone.” After a high pitched beep played, Cesar didn’t hesitate to take that offer.

“Uh, hey, it’s Cesar…I just…wanted to catch up with you and uh…” Cesar sighed. “And see if you turned all the cameras on. Mom seems to be doing well, but she’s…still asleep. Just call me when you get the message, okay? I’ll see you later. Bye.” Cesar hung up the phone, staring at nothing in particular. He stared forward, feeling a strange sensation in his gut. Mark was probably asleep at that point, so maybe it was best to call in the morning.

Cesar’s feeling of dread was becoming worse. He laid across the loveseat in his living room, his eyes staring at the Television in front of him, though he wasn’t necessarily paying attention to the channel playing. It had been three days since he last spoke with Mark, with every call he made only resulting in another voicemail. Cesar understood that Mark wasn’t the most outspoken, social type, but he never ignored calls for days at a time.

Cesar’s mother walked into the living room, noticing Cesar watching the same evening programs he had already seen a thousand times. “Do you want anything special for dinner, Niño?” His mother asked.

“I’ll…I’ll just have the leftovers in the fridge.” Cesar responded, glancing towards his mother briefly before looking back towards the TV. His mother frowned slightly before she walked back into the kitchen. Cesar held his head up with the palm of his hand, his brows furrowed and his gaze distant.

“I just…don’t…get it.” Cesar stated.

“Don’t get what?” His mother asked from the other room. “Is everything alright?”

“…I…I don’t know.” Cesar muttered, rubbing his eyes with his hands.  

His mother leaned into the doorway between rooms, seeing Cesar sit up on the couch, hunched over with his elbows pressed against his knees. It was possibly the gloomiest his mother had seen him in a long time.

“Do you need anything?” She offered, her brows tilting upwards.

           Cesar sighed slightly before crossing his arms. “…I…maybe I should go check on him.” Cesar muttered, standing up quickly before grabbing his car keys from the side table. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

           “Check on who?”

           “Mark.” Cesar responded. “He hasn’t called me in over three days. I…I’m afraid something might’ve happened.”

As Cesar stormed towards the door, his mother called from the living room. “But what about the curfew?”

           “To hell with the curfew.” Cesar responded before slamming the front door shut behind him.

His mother could hear his car’s engine rumble as he backed out of the driveway. She furrowed her brows, folding her hands in front of her stomach as she thought to herself. Half of her was happy to see that her son was as sympathetic and caring as he was, though the other half was worried of him getting into more trouble than he bargained for. However, she was snapped out of her intense thinking when she heard the glass doors leading to one of the back rooms slide open. She looked towards the back hallway, feeling a chill go up her spine. “Hello?”

           Cesar spent the long drive to Mark’s house weltering in trepidation. Something in his gut didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t place what he was feeling or why he was feeling it. The sun was setting in the horizon, with the leaves of the trees beginning to rot in preparation for autumn. It was chilly outside that specific night, with the cool air in Cesar’s car hitting his skin. In hindsight, he should have slipped on a hoodie, but he wasn’t in the mood to care about the chill weather. If Mark was in trouble, Cesar would be the first to help him.

           Cesar pulled into Mark’s driveway, seeing his car parked in front of the door. He stopped next to it before he opened his door and stepped outside, looking up at the two-story home as the chilly fall air hit his face. The light grey paint on the side panels was beginning to chip off, making it almost look unkempt. Cesar didn’t recall it looking like it hadn’t been kept in shape for a long time, though he figured it had been a while since he visited Mark’s house, and Mark’s busy parents didn’t seem like the type to care about some chipped paint until it made it look abandoned.

           He walked towards the front door, knocking on it hard with his intense gaze fixated on it. “Mark?” Cesar called. “You in there?”

           There was no response aside from the crickets chirping in the distance. Cesar slammed his fist against the door, echoing a louder series of thumps than before. “Mark, are you alright?” Cesar called louder, hoping Mark would hear. However, the only response was silence once again.

Cesar backed away from the door, staring up at the second story window, where Mark’s room was situated. It was completely dark; in fact, every window was blacked out, and no lights seemed to be on inside the home. It felt lifeless, and Cesar could feel a sense of dread swelling inside of him. Something about looking up at Mark’s bedroom window made Cesar feel as though he was being watched.

He glanced around his feet, seeing a small patch of gravel lining the edge of the driveway before he crouched down and picked up a few stones. He sprung back to his feet before chucking one of the small rocks at Mark’s window. A slight thunk was heard when the rock made impact, and despite Cesar following it up with multiple rock throws, not a single one of them seemed to get any attention from inside the house.

“Damn it.” Cesar groaned, throwing whatever rocks he had left onto the ground. He cupped his mouth with his hands before he began to shout. “MARK! IT’S ME, CESAR! YOU IN THERE?!”

Cesar didn’t know what he expected, but the response was the same either way; no one answered. He backed away, hesitantly walking back to his car. He sat inside of his vehicle, slamming his door shut as he prepared to leave. He slid his hands down his face, groaning as he shook his head slightly. However, when his mobile phone rang on his car’s dashboard, he froze. He picked it up, holding it up as he rubbed his eyes. “Hello?”

No answer came from the phone, instead being a jumbled mess of static and indistinguishable speech. Nothing was recognizable, like someone flipping through channels on the TV as fast as humanly possible.

“…Hello?” Cesar repeated, feeling his heart sink in his chest.

A loud cacophony of inhuman screams erupted from his phone, nearly startling the skin off of Cesar’s bones. It sounded as if the gates of hell were opened on the other side of the phone line. He ripped the phone away from his ear, hearing the caller disconnect. He stared at the phone in his quivering hand before he quickly tossed it to the side and started the engine. He backed out of the driveway, speeding down the road as his eyes darted around the streets before him. He had no clue what was going on, but he knew he had to be fast.

When he finally arrived home, the sun had already set below the horizon, delving everything in darkness. Cesar left his car behind, jogging towards his front door and swinging it open. “Mom!” He looked around the living room, seeing that it was completely empty. It was nearly entirely silent aside from the faint sound of a ticking clock on the wall, its hour hand nearing 8:00.  

Cesar quietly closed the door behind him, walking through the living room before entering the kitchen, noticing the light was still on. “Mom?” Cesar called. “You there?” He stepped into the hallway connecting the main bedrooms, noticing that one of the doors was open, leading into one of the guest rooms. There were two sliding glass doors leading outside, and judging by the curtains swaying in the breeze, they were wide open.

Cesar’s eyes were fixed on the open doors, with him almost afraid to look away. “M-Mom?” Cesar called again, glancing down the hall for just a second before looking back at the guest room. Cesar backed away from the open door, his back brushing against the master bedroom door. To his shock, his back simply pushed the door open. He let out a yelp as he slammed against the floor in the bedroom, noticing that the lights were on in there as well.

“Oh…shit.” Cesar groaned as he stumbled to his feet. He turned around, looking into the bedroom as he regained his bearings. He stared towards the wall adjacent to him before his entire body froze in place, paralyzed. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the scene before him.

He could barely even begin to process the amount of blood leaking onto the carpeted floor, oozing down the wall from the lifeless body pinned against it by her hands. She was posed in a cross formation, reminding Cesar of a crucifixion from the stories in the Bible. However, the fact that it was in his bedroom, and that the victim was his own mother made him realize just how barbaric those old punishments really were.

“M-MOM?!” Cesar sobbed, stumbling backwards back into the hallway. His head shook rapidly, his mind refusing to fill in the details of the grizzly scene he witnessed.

Cesar ran out of the hallway and through the kitchen, scrambling towards the front door. He fumbled with the doorknob, nearly tripping over his feet when he finally opened the door and ran out into the front yard. He grabbed onto his mobile phone, sobbing loudly as his shaking hand dialed 911.

“Please…you have to help me…” Cesar begged as soon as he heard the line connect. He covered his mouth, gasping in between his cries of anguish as he attempted to get his scrambled thoughts in order.

“Turn around.” The voice on the phone droned.

“Wh-What?” Cesar stammered.

“Turn…around.” The voice repeated.

Cesar hesitantly obliged, slowly turning around and looking back towards his house. He stared up towards the dark sky above the roof, feeling his hands drop to his sides and his hand loose its clutch on the phone. The phone landed on the grass, though Cesar didn’t even notice. His petrified stare was focused on the figure floating weightlessly above his home.

“…Mark?” Cesar choked.

“Mark” was suspended in the air, his arms hanging by his sides as his bruised hands twitched slightly. He was wearing his grey sweatshirt, though it was stained with crimson, the viscera seeping into the fabric. Cesar couldn’t see his face clearly, as if it was concealed by complete darkness from above. The most Cesar could see were the streaks of blood running down from his head and face, streaming down his neck and onto his clothes. However, Cesar could see one eye peek out of the void above his house, fixated on his cowering form. The necklace around his neck hovered in front of his chest, a small metal cross hanging from the silver chain, though Cesar knew that the thing wearing it was not a thing of God.

Cesar could barely move his legs; paralyzed by his own dread, feeling like he was in some sort of fucked up, vivid nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. It had to be a nightmare…it had to be some sort of fucking nightmare, please let me wake up. “Fuck…fuck.” Cesar forced himself to take a few steps backwards, stumbling over his feet and slamming against the dirt. He watched as Mark began to approach him, descending slowly as Cesar crawled towards his car.

Cesar was finally able to shake off his petrified feeling, sprinting to his vehicle before swinging the door open and leaping inside. He dug into his pocket, almost dropping his keys as he took them out. He started the car, speeding out of the driveway as he stared at Mark, who was now over the front yard, his legs illuminated by the car’s headlights. However, before the car sped down the gravel road, it stopped abruptly, its lights shutting off. “Wh—come on, come the fuck on!” Cesar cried, turning the keys in the ignition, starting the vehicle again. The lights turned back on, revealing Mark had grown closer, with his torso now visible. As soon as Cesar let go of the keys, they turned without even touching them, shutting the vehicle off once again.

Cesar looked through the windshield, seeing the pitch black darkness before him. Cesar started his car again, struggling against the force trying to keep his keys from turning. His car’s headlights lit up Mark’s eerily still form, and Cesar could finally see his face, or what was left of it. A black void peeking through his glass like skin, shattered like a mirror. Cesar didn’t spend much time processing the details; his mind was refusing to comprehend what he was staring at.

With his free hand, he swung the wheel around, turning the car towards the road and slamming his foot against the gas pedal, leaving Mark in the dust. Mark watched as the car sped through the lane, letting out a furious cacophony of yells. He sounded as if he released the screams of the damned, all coming out of one being. He lifted himself into the air, disappearing out of view and into the dark, cloudy sky.

Cesar didn’t give a shit about the speed limit; as soon as he made it to the main road, he pressed the gas pedal onto the floor. He felt that he was on the brink of vomiting, but he forced himself to hold it in, trying in vain to calm himself down. He couldn’t get the image of his mother’s corpse out of his head, and every time he remembered the amount of blood seeping onto the bedroom floor, he only wanted to throw up more. He was running out of tears to cry, resorting to dry sobs. He couldn’t piece together his thoughts, unable to comprehend the position he found himself in. As he stared forward, trying to think of anything he could do, he was snapped out of his thoughts when his headlights hit something in front of him. Mark was suspended in the air in front of Cesar’s vehicle, his eye fixed on the speeding car barreling towards him.

Cesar yelled, swerving the car out of the way, the wind from it blowing against Mark’s unmoving body. Mark watched as Cesar attempted to regain control with no success, instead making it lose whatever control it had. The wheels screeched as it slid across the pavement, leaving dark marks on the road. The car flew off of the road, tumbling into the ditch and towards the forest lining the side of the road, only stopping when the side of it smashed against the trunk of one of the trees. Shrapnel flew in all directions, and the windows shattered into hundreds of razor-sharp shards of glass.

Mark stared at the wreck before him, approaching it slowly before he placed his feet on the grass. The plants below him shriveled up and became a dull brown color as he walked towards Cesar’s car. He peered through the shattered remains of the driver’s side window, seeing Cesar leaned away, blood seeping from the small cuts on his face and chest. He was completely still, and from what Mark could observe, he was no longer breathing. Mark let out a small, infuriated huff as he leaned away from the vehicle, floating up into the dark sky. A pity; he wasn’t even the one to kill him. Mark vanished into the darkness, leaving Cesar behind as silence fell.

Cesar remained still, until his eyelid twitched. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the pain he felt coursing through his body. He couldn’t tell if he broke any bones, but he could see that his clothes were beginning to turn a shade of red. Cesar freed himself from his seatbelt, shakily reaching for the door handle and swinging it open. He fell to the ground as soon as the door opened, slamming against the now dead grass. He groaned, barely able to support himself with his arms. Nevertheless, he forced himself to stand up, clenching his jaw as he tried to suppress the sharp pain he felt from the cuts in his skin.

He stumbled back onto the road, clutching his stomach with one of his arms as he stared forward. His back was illuminated by the flickering headlights behind him, being the only source of light nearby. The road stretched on and on for what felt like forever before him, barely illuminated. Cesar took in a deep breath despite the tightness in his chest before he limped down the road as tears ran down his cheeks. His mind was blank, as if his mind was racing fast enough for nothing to be processed. 

He glanced at a sign on the side of the road, barely legible through the nightly darkness. He would have felt happy to get out of dodge, but every ounce of joy was already stripped from him. Everything he loved; everything he cared about was gone in an instant. There was nothing left for him if he stayed. As he pushed forward, he wondered if he was destined to die on the side of the road from his wounds. He wondered if that was the end of his journey and if he really should have died in the crash. However, a fate like that wasn’t something he was going to let himself to succumb to. He pressed on, not letting himself rest until he made it to the nearest form of hospitality. He stumbled past the sign, not looking back as he made his way to Bythorne County.

“Thank You for Visiting Mandela Cty, WI. Come Again!”

[once-upon-a-fanfic]

Feel Good Drag Part 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x OC (eventually)

Summary:   Natalie and Eddie had been best friends for a few years since she moved to Hawkins. The pair had been inseparable...until Chrissy Cunningham came into the picture.  

Trigger Warnings: Suicide attempt, overdose, Sexual Assault/rape

Notes: I decided not to really describe the OC so the reader can imagine them however they want. The only definite/clear describer (is that a word?) is that it is a she/her OC.

Part 1 Part 2

Written by @the-stuttering-kiwi Co-owner of @once-upon-a-fanfic

Edited by @theshadowsparade  Co-owner of @once-upon-a-fanfic

Oh hi. I’ve crawled out of my seasonal depression to finish this up.  Shout out to @andvys​ (I hope you don’t mind the tag) for getting me back in Eddie Munson’s choke hold. Go read her stuff, its seriously amazing *chefs kiss*.

“You kids realize it's my night off, right?” Jim Hopper leaned against the doorway of Natalie’s hospital room.

“Sorry Chief.” Dustin got up and grabbed the journal from the bedside table. Eddie hadn’t been able to open it again. “I have something I need you to look at.” He handed Hopper the journal and motioned for him to go out into the hallway.

Eddie sat on the edge of his chair, his right leg tapping in tune with his heart in his chest. The beep of the monitors and the hiss of the oxygen tank made him want to crawl out of his skin. He could hear Dustin and Hopper murmuring in the hallway, discussing the contents of the last page.

Eddie closed his eyes and grabbed Nat’s hand. It was the first time he touched her since they found her in the bathroom. How could he have abandoned his best friend?

“Hopper is gonna take care of it,” Dustin said. He sniffled as he sat back down in his chair, his eyes red and puffy.

Eddie nodded, grateful that his friend had called the police. He told Dustin, “You should go home and get some sleep. It’s been… what… almost 24 hours?” Eddie squinted at the clock on the wall, his eyesight blurry from exhaustion.

“So should you.”

“No, I can’t,” Eddie shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He gripped Nats' hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.

“Then I’m staying too.”

After a few minutes of trying to get comfortable in his chair, Dustin let out a defeated huff. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll go sleep on one of the couches in the waiting room. But that’s as far as I’m going.”

Eddie cracked a small smile. “That’s good enough for me.”

With Dustin gone, the room felt overwhelming. His eyes filled with tears, and he found he didn’t have the energy to hold them back.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” a sob wrenched itself from his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

A loud thud woke Eddie. He shot up in his chair, trying to blink the sun that was pouring in from the window out of his eyes. He glanced at Nat, who was still unconscious. Another thud from behind him made him turn in his chair.

“What the fuck?” he wondered out loud.

Several boxes were stacked in the hospital room. A closer look told him they were from Nat’s room. Eddie quickly realized the person tossing the boxes in the room was Nat's mom.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

She glared at Eddie. “Didn’t you hear? My husband was arrested last night.”

Good; that is the least that should happen to him, Eddie thought. Instead, he said, “Yeah, and?  Shouldn’t it be his boxes you are tossing out?”

She had the audacity to look shocked. “The only reason he was arrested is that little slut,” she spat the word, “accused him of raping her.”

Eddie shot out of his chair, kicking it away from him hard enough it slammed into the wall behind him with a loud clang. He took two big steps toward Natalie's mom, standing tall to look intimidating.

“Your daughter, your child, ” he pointed behind him, “Almost fucking died because that piece of shit raped her.”

Nat’s mom was determined to hold her ground. “It’s a shame she didn’t follow through,” she sneered. Clenching his fists, Eddie opened his mouth to speak just as Dustin appeared in the doorway, arms loaded with snacks and drinks from the vending machine down the hall.

“What… what’s going on?” he asked innocently.

“She’s just dropping off some of Nat’s things,” Eddie replied through gritted teeth.

Dustin looked between Eddie, Natalie’s mom, and the boxes on the floor. It took him a few moments to read the room, but the realization hit him like a freight train, “Oh.”

“She was just leaving,” Eddie said bitterly.

Nat’s mom dramatically dropped the last box in her hands and stomped out of the room.

Eddie didn’t move as Dustin made his way into the room and dumped his haul onto the table under the window.

“You okay?” Dustin asked.

“I can’t… I can’t believe we left her with them,” Eddie replied. The guilt was eating him alive. Dustin didn’t reply, but Eddie knew he felt the same way.

“You should eat something.”

“I”m not hungry,” Eddie shook his head. He grabbed his chair away from the wall, pulling it back to its spot next to Nat.

“I know, but you should still eat something,” he offered Eddie a small bag of pretzels and a can of coke.

Eddie hesitated for a moment but took the food. “Thanks.”

He opened the bag, and the smell made his stomach growl quietly. He popped a couple of pretzels into his mouth and chewed slowly. He glanced over at the boxes Natalie’s mom brought, but even the sight of them made his stomach churn.

“We should get these boxes out of here,” he said before he took a big gulp of soda, “I don’t want Nat to see them when she wakes up.”

“I can call the guys to come and grab them.” Dustin had already gotten up to start calling.

“They can take them to my place,” Eddie said.

As they began to discuss the details of where Natalie’s stuff would go, Gareth and Jeff knocked on her door.

“Is she doing okay?” Gareth asked.

“She hasn’t really changed,” Dustin explained.

“And her mom really dumped all her stuff here?” Jeff asked, shaking his head while he looked at the boxes.

“I heard Creeper Craig resisted arrest last night. The Chief took him in all black and blue, broken nose, and a few more missing teeth.” Gareth cracked a smile.

“The least he deserves,” Eddie said while the others nodded in agreement.

Eddie helped them carry the boxes out to their car. It felt good to stretch his legs. He stood in the sun for a moment, the warmth spreading across his face, feeling the fresh air in his lungs.

“That’s the last one,” Dustin announced, loading the final box in the trunk.

Eddie reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys, snaking the one for his trailer off the ring. “Here, just pile them inside and I’ll take care of it later.” He handed the key to Jeff.

“I'll go with them to drop everything off and come back,” Dustin explained, as he went to close the trunk.

“Wait.” Something in the box caught Eddie’s eye. He took a couple of steps and grabbed the copy of The Hobbit he had gotten Nat for her last birthday. He used to read the book aloud to her in their downtime; Nat would snort with laughter when he would do the voices for the characters. Gollum was her favorite.

The memory made his throat tighten, and he fought back the tears that flooded his eyes.

Dustin looked at him sadly, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Eddie just nodded. “Okay,” he echoed.

Back in the hospital room, Eddie laced his fingers with Nat’s and gave her hand a squeeze. The heart monitor beeped steadily, and other than occasional footsteps in the hallway, the room was overwhelmingly quiet.

Using one hand, he opened the book that lay on his lap, his eyes scanning the note that he had written on the inside cover page. “ Now someone else in Hawkins can read The Hobbit because you won’t have the library's only copy indefinitely checked out. Happy 18th birthday, Nat! Please note that I am always available to do my best Gollum voice. Love, Eddie.”

“Love, Eddie.” He traced his messy handwriting with a shaking finger.  If this never-ending nightmare taught Eddie anything it was that he did love Natalie.  But if he thought he didn’t deserve her before...he sure as shit didn’t deserve her now.

Clearing his throat, Eddie turned to the first page and read aloud, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…”

Natalie

Natalie wrinkled her nose, trying to get the feeling of air rushing into her nostrils to stop. She reached what felt like an extremely heavy hand to her face to try and push it away, but was met with hard plastic and tubing.

What the hell? she thought.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, looking around the room to get her bearings. When she realized she was in a hospital room, memories flooded back to her.

Craig. The smell of stale beer and old cigarettes. The bitter taste of the pills on her tongue. Eddie yelling in her ear while she vomited.

Eddie…

When her eyes found Eddie, her breath caught in her throat. He sat slouched in the chair next to her bed, a book lying open on his lap. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open slightly, a quiet snore escaping every few moments. She realized her left hand was firmly in his grip even though he was sound asleep.

She gave his hand a squeeze. Eddie’s eyes shot open.

“Hi,” her voice was small and raspy.

“Hi,” Eddie said breathlessly. He jerked forward to press the nurse call button.

“Wait,” Nat croaked. “We can call them in a minute, okay?”

Eddie nodded. He stood quickly and moved to the edge of the hospital bed, still holding Nat’s hand. He stared down to where their fingers were laced together. She gave him a reassuring squeeze. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were glassy. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a quiet sob.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Nat started, but Eddie shook his head.

“No,” his voice wavered a little. “No, we–I, I abandoned you, Nat. I will never forgive myself for that. You have nothing, nothing to be sorry for.”

“I really missed you,” Nat’s lower lip trembled.

Eddie nodded, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against her forehead.

“I missed you too,” he murmured. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to hers. His long hair fell around their faces, noses brushing against each other.

Nat heard hurried footsteps approaching her room. A nurse poked her head in and gasped.

“Oh, you're awake!” she hurried in and pushed Eddie out of the way to start checking Natalie's vitals. It wasn’t long before the doctor and another nurse came into the room.

“You’ll have to wait outside while we do some tests, okay?” one of the nurses pointed Eddie to the door.

“But–” Natalie started, feeling overwhelmed by the flurry of activity.

“It’s okay. I’ll be right outside, okay?” Eddie offered her a reassuring smile, but she knew he didn’t want to leave either.

Trying not to panic, Natalie gave a quick nod and kept her eyes on Eddie until he was out of sight.

Eddie

Eddie paced the hallway while the nurses worked. Chief Hopper had also arrived a little while ago, and was no doubt asking Nat about what she had written in her journal.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice was frantic; he came sprinting down the hallway. “Eddie, what’s wrong? Is it Nat? Is she okay?” Dustin skidded to a halt in front of Eddie.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“She’s okay. I think you guys are okay to go in now,” Hopper appeared in the doorway, while the last of the nurses filed out.. He smiled and patted Dustin on the shoulder and gave Eddie a quick nod. “I’ll talk to you kids later, okay?”

Dustin took a deep breath, holding onto Eddie for support. “I saw you out here and I just thought… I’m sorry I took so long, man, I wanted to do something for you and Nat.”

“It’s okay; you came back just in time,” Eddie steered Dustin into Nat’s room.

“You’re awake?!” Dustin yelped and ran to the bed, nearly dive-bombing Nat.

Eddie leaned against the door frame while he watched Dustin give Natalie a tight hug. His chest felt lighter than it had the last couple of days, but anxiety still gnawed at the back of his mind.

“They said I can probably go home tomorrow afternoon,” Nat’s voice was beginning to sound normal again.

“So soon?” Dustin asked, surprised.

“It depends on bloodwork. You know, make sure things are improving, but they think I can recover better at home.”

Home…

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip–how was he going to tell her about her mom?

“Why are your faces like that?” Nat asked slowly, looking between Dustin and Eddie. Only then did Eddie realize Dustin looked suddenly ill.

“Well,” Dustin started, but Eddie cut him off.

“Why don’t you go home, Dust? Take a shower, sleep in a real bed.” He took a step into the room while Nat continued to stare at them suspiciously.

Dustin nodded, gave Nat another big hug, and murmured that he would see her tomorrow.

Eddie sat slowly down on the bed next to Nat. “So, tomorrow, when you get discharged, you’ll come back to my place.” He wasn’t sure how else to say it, other than bluntly.

“Why?”

“Your mom,” Eddie struggled to find the right way to tell her, as he stared at his hands. “Your mom kicked you out.”

He glanced at Nat but found her face was nearly impossible to read. “Oh.”

“But it’s okay, though. We got all your stuff over at my place.” He suddenly wondered if she wouldn’t want to stay with him. “It will be close quarters, but we will be fine.”

“What about Chrissy?”

“Not a factor,” Eddie said simply.

Eddie and Natalie sat in silence for a long moment. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know why I got kicked out?” she asked quietly.

Eddie looked at her sadly, “Yes. We found your journal. We had to tell someone.”

Nat’s lower lip started to quiver. “So then… you know everything?”

Eddie nodded, and Nat found she couldn’t look at him and turned her head to face away from him..  Part of her felt ridiculous that she felt more upset that this was how Eddie found out about her feelings for him–something that was ruined now. If Eddie suddenly felt any different it would be out of pity.  She tried to blink back the tears but they came anyway.

:”Hey,” Eddie said softly, grabbing her hand, “Look at me.”

Nat slowly turned her head to face Eddie, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Eddie gently wiped away her tears with his thumb and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Nat said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

Eddie smiled softly. “Hey, don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.  I just wish…I wish I had told you sooner…”

“Tell me what?”  Nat sniffed, confused.

“ I think part of the reason I fell so hard down the Chrissy rabbit hole was because I was trying so hard to ignore how I felt about you.”

Nat’s eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Eddie took a deep breath. “What I mean is–I think I had,  have , feelings for you too, Nat. But I buried those feelings down so far because you’ve been trying so hard to get out of Hawkins…I didn’t want to be the reason why you got stuck here”

Nat’s heart skipped a beat. “You… you do?”

Eddie nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “I do.”

A smile slowly spread across Nat’s face as she realized what Eddie was saying, but then her smile faltered a little, “You aren’t just saying that because of what happened are you?”

Eddie shook his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you, and I’m sorry it took all this for me to pull my head out of my ass and tell you.”

They sat there for a moment, hands intertwined, both feeling the weight of the unspoken feelings they had been carrying for so long finally lifted off their shoulders.

“So, what now?” Nat asked.

Eddie grinned. “Now, we take things one step at a time. We don’t have to rush into anything–once you are ready we will figure it all out.”

Nat smiled back at him. “I like the sound of that.”

Natalie

Nat was grateful when she got to leave the hospital the following afternoon.  Despite everything she was excited to get back to Eddie’s trailer and start trying to heal.  The ride was quiet and being awkward with Eddie was not a familiar feeling, but she knew Eddie was just as nervous as she was.

Right before Eddie turned into the trailer park, she heard him swear under his breath.

“What?” She asked, glancing at him.

“Nothing, I was just thinking I should have come back this morning while you were sleeping and gotten the place cleaned up a little bit.  And got your stuff put away–I didn’t want you coming home to a pile of your stuff in boxes.”

“It’s okay,” Nat reassured him, “Really, we can get everything put away later.”

As they got closer to Eddie’s trailer Nat’s anxiety started to gnaw at her gut, despite reminding herself that she had Eddie had practically lived together up until a month or so ago, but now with their feelings out in the open, everything was different.

“What the–” Eddie’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts as they pulled into the parking spot in front of the trailer.  Nat couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the balloons until now.

“Dustin.” They said in unison, grinning at eachother.

Sure enough, Dustin and the others were waiting outside with Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Welcome home!” Dustin practically bounced to the van and opened Nat’s door and pulled her out.

“Thanks, Dustin.”

“Hey kid, long time no see” Uncle Wayne greeted Nat warmly and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Can we go inside now?” Dustin asked excitedly.

Uncle Wayne chucked, “The boy has a big surprise for you and Nat.” he patted Eddie on the shoulder and steered him to the front door.

“Gareth and Jeff helped too!” Dustin ran ahead of them and opened the door .“And Mike. They wanted to be here to welcome you home but Waybe was worried about it being too overwhelming.”

Nat quietly agreed, while her eyes scanned the trailer. One of the first things Nat noticed was that the trailer was spotless, not that it was dirty, but Wayne worked long, hard hours, and Eddie was…well, Eddie.

“I figured since this was your place now too, we should get our act together,” Wayne explained as Nat looked around.

“You didn’t have to,” Nat said sincerely.  Even at its worst, the trailer was always more comforting and felt like home more than her own did.

“Come on,” Dustin said excitedly, as he grabbed Nat’s hand and pulled her back to Eddie’s room. Nat grabbed Eddie's hand as she brushed past him, grinning.

“Are you ready?” Dustin asked, hand on the doorknob to the bedroom.

“To see my own room?  The room I’ve lived in for the past 10 years? I think I’m ready.” Eddie asked, rolling his eyes.

“I get the feeling you aren’t ready,” Dustin replied, vibrating with excitement.

“Well, I’m ready.” Nat laughed, “Open it on up.”

As Nat looked around, she noticed that everything had been organized and tidied up. The clothes that were once piled up in a corner were now folded and hung up, and the posters that once hung crookedly on the wall were now straight and even. The closet door which could never close due to its contents perpetually spilling from it was latched firmly in place.  Eddie’s bed which was just a mattress on the floor was now an actual bed, with extra space underneath for their things. Along the far wall, she noticed an army cot was neatly made up.

Nat felt a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over her as she realized how much effort Wayne, Dustin, and the others had put into making her new home feel welcoming and comfortable.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Nat said, turning to Wayne and Dustin with a smile. “Thank you so much for doing all of this.”

“Of course,” Wayne replied, smiling back at her. “We wanted to make sure you felt at home here.”

“It’s definitely homier,” Eddie added, chuckling. “Thanks, guys.”

Dustin beamed with pride at their reactions, clearly happy to have helped out. “Glad you like it,” he said.

Nat felt a sense of contentment wash over her–she felt like she was finally home.

[becomingbts]

NUMB - 04

Summary: It was hard to live on as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t lose her hands and one of her best friends in that accident. It didn’t help that her hands were everything she had and everything she was. Without them, she wasn’t sure she had any reason to breathe anymore.

Pairing: Y/N (fem) x Yoongi

Genre: Heavy angst and fluff

Warnings: deal with depression, suicidal thoughts, screaming, and difficult relationships.

~ 430 words

Note: I’m 100% late for the update, I know, I had a secret birthday party for a friend this Friday night and I had to do the cake, so I was baking on Thursday and totally forgot to update hehehehe Regardless, here is the update !! I hope you’ll enjoy it !

Another discussion ending up in screams. Another night that Yoongi was ready to spend on the sofa until he heard soft footsteps inside their apartment. The door of their bedroom betrayed her movements, Yoongi knew she was outside the room, yet he didn’t hear any door close behind her after their bedroom’s door creaked. Instead, the footsteps got closer to him and when he opened his eyes, he was met with the tired form of his girlfriend, tears streaming down her face while she tried not to make too much noise. Yoongi sighed, wordlessly opening his arms, and inviting her into his embrace. She didn’t lose time thinking about it, Yoongi smiled softly as he felt her burying her head against his shoulder, hiding in his warmth while he repositioned himself to let her make herself comfortable. It took her a few minutes to calm down, but eventually, neither of them moved and they rested against each other in the living room. Suddenly, he heard her quiet apologies echoing in the silence of their apartment. She repeated them like a mantra. Her hands tried to grab his shirt yet only trembled against his pajama's material, barely pulling anything. He closed his eyes, feeling the shivers ragging through her body, probably in frustration. She wasn’t even able to hold her boyfriend properly, why was she still bothering him? Yoongi could almost hear her thoughts, her frustration was almost loud.

His arms tightly encircled her and (Y/N) couldn’t understand why he held her so protectively, so lovingly after every hurtful word she said, after every glass she broke because she was unable to keep it in her grasp, after every refusal to go to therapy, after every time he had to feed her because using chopsticks was too difficult for the little strength she had.

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean it.” 

“I know.”

“I’m so tired, Yoongi.” 

“I know, love. I know.” That was what truly broke him. He could handle her screams, her anger. It was harder when she cried out of desperation. He knew she was hurting, she was drowning slowly but surely. Sometimes, she stared at the blades of the knives too long for his liking. She looked at things so emptily it frightened him. He wished he could do so much more than hold her but it felt like it was the only thing he could do. So he closed his eyes and basked in her warmth, wondering how long they’d be able to continue like that before one of them would finally break.

UPDATED EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY

TAGLIST: @fluffyydumplings, @harmonie-writes, @might-be-a-rat, @wobblewobble822, @cuteipat, @0funsite0, @borahae-reads​, (tell me if I forgot anyone!)

[demonangelsworld]

Entangled In Him

✨Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x OC! Orianna Wolfe

✨Summary: Orianna and Ransom had an unconventional start to their relationship. Despite this, they still stuck through, pushing past their rough beginnings, Ransom's family, and Orianna’s. They have done things they're not proud of, and their relationship is far from perfect, but she and Ransom know they’ll make it. They don’t know how far it will be tested when Ransom’s grandfather commits suicide the night of his birthday party. 

✨Warnings: Bullying, an attempt at manipulation, angst

✨W/C: 2.6k 

Masterlist Next >

Chapter One: How We Started

I take a breath looking up at the building in front of me, Ryder Springs Private Academy. I worked my ass off to ensure I could attend this school and not one of the public schools. It feels good to see the fruits of my labor. This school is my ticket to the start of a better life; I'll make every minute count.

I tighten my grip on my backpack, straighten the skirt of my uniform, and head inside. I hold back my awe at the grandiose entryway. There's a big, plush, red carpet lining the hallway and a staircase to one side. Everything looks expensive and fancy—definitely something I need to get used to.

Some students walk the halls, all wearing the same uniform as I am. Black flats with stockings, a deep blue skirt that goes to the knees, a white blouse, and a tie with the school's crest on it for the girls. Black dress shoes, deep blue pants, a white dress shirt, and the same tie for the boys.

“Hey!” I jump a little as a loud, high-pitched voice breaks me out of my gawking state. Turning, I see a girl my age with dark skin, dreads falling from her head, and a braces-filled smile on her face. “You're the new girl, right? My name is Rio. I'm part of the welcoming committee.” She cheerfully holds her hand out to me.

This girl exudes bubbly happiness. It's nearly overwhelming. How can someone be this happy in high school? 

“Yeah, that's me. My name is Orianna.” I shake her hand with a small smile of my own.

“Your name is so pretty! How did your parents think of that?” Rio gushes.

“My mom told me I'm named after my great-grandmother. Your name is pretty too. How did you get yours?” I hum, toying with my backpack strap.

“I was born in Rio; my parents aren't very creative.” Rio laughs. “So, since it's your first day, I was tasked with showing you around and getting you settled before your homeroom begins. Do you have your schedule?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.” I pull the schedule out of my pocket; I was so happy when I saw the skirt had pockets.

I hold it out to her, and she reads it for a moment. “Oh, awesome! We have 6th-period lunch together. Wanna eat with me then?”

“Sure! That sounds great!” I nod with a grin. I know she's just being nice since she's part of the welcoming committee, but maybe I could get to know her and become friends.

“Wonderful! I'll guide you to your locker, then show you around.” Rio hooks her elbow in mine, and we head off into the school.

During my tour, I got to know Rio more; she loves animals and science and hopes to go into conservation. The complete opposite of myself, who loves to write, read, and hopes to become an editor. Rio's parents are prominent advocates against deforestation. They are often in other countries working to replant the forests that have been taken down over the years—leaving her to live with her Grandmother most of the time here in Boston. We had to part ways when the bell rang; after that, it was like any other school day.

Any other school day if you add in stuck-up private school kids. When I got to homeroom, I chose a seat near the front. I hum as I pull out my notebooks and pens, ignoring all the desks with laptops on them surrounding me. I begin writing little notes when I feel someone jabbing at my shoulder. Turning around, I spot a girl with black hair and jade eyes slyly grinning at me, her eyes roaming over my uniform for a moment. 

“Yes?” I raise a brow when she doesn’t say anything after a moment. 

“Aren’t you the girl that got in on the Thrombey writing scholarship?” The girl asks, fiddling with one of those stupidly gaudy pens with a pom-pom on top. 

“Yeah, and?” I prompt again, wondering where this is going. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. Like she’s trying to find my insecurities to tear out, it seems like I met my first private school prep. 

“Must be embarrassing, having to come here with just the money from some rich old guy. How did you manage to land that? You sleep with him?” The girl grins conspicuously at me and leans closer. My jaw drops, and my face twists into that disgust. Other girls around her lean close, and I realize what’s happening.  

These absolute bitches. 

After taking a moment to compose myself, I give them my grin and lean forward. “You really wanna know?” I murmur as quietly as I can. They all eagerly nod, especially the main bitch that started this. 

“It’s called dedication and hard work. Something you assholes will never learn. Because you’re nothing but spoiled bitches that will get everything handed to you until the day you die. Now, I suggest you leave me alone before I show you what someone of ‘my standing’ is willing to do to protect myself.” I blow them all a kiss, and the girl’s expressions change to horror or hatred. 

The head bitch goes to bark something back, but I turn around and ignore her. Girls like that aren’t worth my time. Soon the teacher walks in and begins class on economics. Despite his presence, I still hear the girls whispering to get my attention. 

“Scholarship. Hey, Scholarship. Scholarship!” 

Those girls weren’t the only ones to cause me problems and call me that name throughout the day. It’s like they all somehow immediately knew who I am, my status, everything. I must be the only one here on scholarship. That has to be the reason. It was all so annoying, and I had to keep myself in check on more than one occasion. I don’t want to make any more enemies today. I don’t think I could handle any more drama. 

I let out a little sigh as I walked into the school's dining hall. Lunch tables scatter the area, most of them already packed. Thankfully I don't hear all the chatter thanks to my earbuds blaring a true crime podcast into my ears instead. I move to the lunch line, going through the motions of grabbing food. Today it's mac n cheese, fruit, and juice. Honestly, I was expecting something a little fancier from this place, but I'm not complaining. A good, hot meal without me having to cook? I'll take it.

I glance around before finally seeing Rio waving frantically, trying to catch my attention. I laugh at her dramatics and make my way over. I focus on my podcast as I walk, ‘...the body was found at the bottom of the steps of the man stalking her for days prior.’   

I get entrapped in the story, almost to the table, when someone suddenly backs up right in front of me. 

“Shit!” I gasp. I attempt to catch myself as my feet hit their ankles, but it's too late. 

My precious mac' n cheese goes right on the person's shirt. They shout something incoherent as I land flat on my face. My head spins a bit from the impact on the floor; carefully, I reach up to check if I broke the skin on my forehead. When I don't feel the blood stickiness, I sigh in relief, only to pause when the laughter begins. The flush of embarrassment immediately makes its way to my cheeks. It's just my luck that I made a fool of myself on the first day.

“Clumsy little bitch.” I hear the person I dumped my food on growl. I scowl at their words and manage to push myself up to my knees. I go to bark back my insult but stop short.

Holy shit, the guy is hot. He glares down at me with icy blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair pushed back on his head. His tie is undone, and a couple of his shirt buttons give the classic 'schools rebel' vibe. Lowering my eyes slightly, I cringe at the enormous yellow stain on his shirt from where my food landed.

He suddenly smirks at me; shit, how long have I been staring at him? “Hit your head too hard? Or are you just checking me out?”

I flush at his words but quickly glare, remembering what he called me. “You fucking wish. Why don't you watch where you're going next time?” I feel a hand on my arm and smile, seeing Rio helping me to my feet.

“I should be saying that to you, scholarship. You ruined my shirt; it probably costs more than whatever hole you live in.” The guy bites out with venom dripping in his tone.

I grunt hearing that little nickname. This guy isn't the first person to have called me that today. I'm tired of being looked down on for getting a little help. 

“Do I look like I give a fuck? No. I'm sure your ass can afford to get a new one.” I bare my teeth at him, showing him I won't back down or be ridiculed.

“Ransom, just leave her alone, okay? It wasn't even her fault. Your friend pushed you into her.” Rio murmurs, looking everywhere but him. Does this guy make her nervous? Yeah, he's bigger than the two of us, but he's not scary in the slightest, at least not to me. It takes a lot to scare me.

“My fault, huh? You're really brave to accuse me like that, loner freak.” Ransom shoots his glare over to Rio.

I step in front of Rio, blocking her from his view. “She's not accusing you. She's stating what she saw. Look, I'm sorry for ruining your precious shirt. Now can we move along and get back to lunch? I'm personally rather hungry, and we're losing precious minutes of our free time by arguing over something stupid.”

“Awe, you're hungry, scholarship? Are you so poor that you're not getting enough food at home? Poor thing.” Ransom cooes in a false, overly sweet tone. I roll my eyes, refusing to take his bait, and argue back at him. He chuckles when I say nothing, “Fine, I'll let you run off and finish your lunch, but this isn't over. I want compensation for my shirt.” He wiggles his fingers at me as he struts off with his laughing buddies, “see you later, Scholarship.” I stand there, glaring daggers into his back as Rio tries to pull me away from the scene. 

“Orianna, this isn't good. He's the school's trouble kid.” She murmurs when we get over to the table she was sitting at earlier.

“And? I'm not going to let his reputation scare me. He seems to be all bark and no bite.” I scoff. I've met his type a hundred times over. They all think they're big shit until someone pushes back.

“Ori, he's known for getting girls and guys alike to bend at his will. He knows how to manipulate and get his way. I've seen it happen...” Rio looks down with sadness clouding her eyes.

My concern immediately grows, “Rio, did he do something to you?”

Rio immediately shakes her head, “Not me, my ex-girlfriend. He liked her for a while, but she refused him in front of many people and then dated me. I don't know how Ransom did it, but he convinced her to break up with me and get with him. Then he broke up with her in front of the whole school during one of the assemblies. She was so humiliated she moved schools.”

“What a fucking horrible thing to do,” I shake my head a bit. People are horrible. Who would go through all that trouble just to make someone hurt? “Don't worry, I won't let him get to me. Believe me. I've dealt with some fucked up people in my time. I think I can handle a pretentious shitwad like him.”

Rio sends me a small smile, “I hope you're right, Orianna; you seem so nice. You don't deserve to be hurt by him.”

“Thanks, Rio.” I give her a soft smile, and she offers me half her tuna sandwich since I lost my lunch. I grin and happily eat with my new friend.

By the end of the day, I'm feeling the first day of school wear out. If today is just a glimpse of what the year will bring for me, I'm so screwed. Thankfully, I'm a junior, so I only have to deal with this hell for two years instead of four. Then it's off to the bliss of a college education with mature adults, not children like these assholes.

I shut my locker and head out of school, thinking about everything I would need to grab at the market for dinner. I fumble with my bike lock for a moment when I hear the voice from earlier that makes me want to grind my teeth. 

“Scholarship!” Ransom yells as he walks over, his friends all laughing a few feet away.

“Hell no, not today,” I mutter under my breath and quickly put in the combination. Quickly tossing on my helmet, I swing my leg over my bike, only for Ransom to grab the handlebar at the last moment.

“Where are you going? Didn't you hear me calling for you?” He frowns down at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Oh, no, I heard. I'm just choosing to ignore you, now hands-off.” I swat at Ransom's hands, and his frown morphs into a scowl.

“You might want to be a little nicer to me, scholarship. I did some digging and saw you got in here purely on the Harlan Thrombey young writers award.” Ransom's scowl turns into a sadistic smirk.

My stomach turns at the sight, but I push away my unease. “And? What about it?” I glance at my watch and wince, “look, can we hurry this up? I got places to be.”

“Well, here's the deal, scholarship.” Ransom lets go of my bike and steps away from me, confidence coming from every pore on him. “Harlan Thrombey is my grandfather.”

“Congratulations?” I stare at him, confused, as I ready myself to ride off again.

Ransom scoffs at me, “Do you know what that means? It means I could have him pull your funding if I wanted to. So, you have to do what I say and when I say it.”

I snicker under my breath, attempting to control the laughter bubbling inside me. Is this asshole serious? He's hilarious! The dam breaks, and I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach.

“What's so funny?! Don't you realize the mess you're in?!” Ransom demands, looking at me incredulously.

“What mess? I'm not scared. I earned that scholarship by proving my worth and hard work. If your grandpa is dumb enough to listen to you and pull my funding, so be it. I'll find somewhere else to go or work my ass off in the public school. I don't have to do shit for you!” I push off on my bike and start heading to the market.

“You still owe me compensation for my shirt!” Ransom yells at me as I ride off.

“MHM, SURE!” I flip him the bird and continue, not even bothering to listen to whatever intelligent come back he thinks off. The spoiled little rich boy really thought he had me cornered. I'm a lot smarter than that, though. A lot smarter than him too. 

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