#i haven't had a single second of feeling no pain in my entire memory

[nexus-nebulae]

stupid fucking broken body

[www-librarytearoom-com]

Slipping Through my Fingers Chapter 7! It's temporarily going to be here as AO3 is still down but if you'd prefer to read it on AO3 when back up, feel free to. ♡

Under the cut ♡

Tw for child kidnapping, and past violence. Please don't read if you haven't read the rest of the story on Archive of Our Own

"Mario! Spike, where have you two gone off to?"

Luigi had his knees up to his chest, his phone hidden between them and his body. He wasn't sure if they'd take his phone away from him if they caught him with it, so he decided it'd be best to hide it.

He smiled sadly at the video playing. They used to go to so many places so often, and Luigi always liked to document the fun they'd have. Pauline's voice rang through his head, and oh how much he longed to be held in his auntie's arms again.

He still remembered the day in the video like it was yesterday.

Luigi had his phone out, recording the entire situation. Pauline had his other hand in her's, just a natural instinct she had at this point. Mario had practically drilled it into them.

They were currently at the mall, Luigi had needed a new part for his computer, so they'd gone to get one, only for Mario and Spike to have apparently spotted something, resulting in them running off somewhere unknown.

Luigi knew they were doing something strange.

He had chosen not to mention to Pauline how he noticed Mario packing his lightsaber and Jedi robe in his bag that morning. It was too good of an opportunity to watch him embarrass himself.

Pauline led him through, her grip on his hand firm. She was always more of a worrywart then the rest of them, coming second to Mario.

"It's over Anakin! I have the High Ground!"

He smiled at the familiar call, taking the lead and pulling Pauline closer to the chaos. There was a new ball pit that had been installed, probably for a small carnival, in the center of the mall.

Mario was standing against the top of the railing on the second floor, whilst Uncle Spike was standing in the ballpit. Both of them had their robes on with their lightsabers drawn.

"You underestimate my power!" Spike called, and a hoard of laughter erupted from everyone around. Mario dropped down a ladder, which definitely wasn't stable, and Spike began to climb up.

"Oh fuck- fuck, ANAKIN STAY BACK! BACK I SAY!" Spike began to chase Mario through the mall, before an epic lightsaber battle took place. The security couldn't even apprehend them, because they were laughing too hard.

Luigi laughed weakly as the video ended, though winced as it brought a stinging pain into his throat. His throat constantly felt like he had just accidentally swallowed a gulp of salt water.

How he wanted for everything to go back to normal. But he knew that even if Mario did rescue him, things would never be the same. Not even getting a dog, like he'd always wanted, could fix this.

His finger moved across his phone and before he knew it his finger was hovering over Mario's contact once again. He listened to the ringing of the phone, praying to God that Mario would answer this time.

"Uh- hello?" His heart lifted as he looked at the phone. Had he answered?! "Luigi- is it on? How the fuck do I turn it on? The vocmal thing. Yeah, that thing. Oh it is on? Uh, okay. If I missed your call it's either because you're not Weegee or I can't turn my phone on. I'll try to figure out how to get back to you. Okay, how do I turn it off?"

He faltered slightly, though he loved the memory of teaching him how to make a voicemail. But he wished he had actually answered the phone, then he could know if he was coming, how far away he was. If anything he'd just kill for Mario to tell him everything would be okay.

But that wasn't going to happen. He desperately wished that this would all be over, or that it'd be some sick dream that he just hadn't woken up from yet.

But it wasn't. Because he could feel the pain all over his body, he could feel the jolts of every single scrape and bruise littered across his skin. How much longer would he keep going on for?

He found he was questioning that more and more now.

With a small sigh, he went back to his photos app, and clicked on another video.

"Oh look at you! You look amazing." Pauline smiled behind the camera. Luigi posed proudly, before jumping up and down excitedly. Mario was in the hospital, so he was staying at Pauline's house. Spike was staying over with them as well. "You look like a little scientist."

She always knew the best things to say to him to make him smile. Luigi was about to reply, when all of a sudden he heard a grating voice from across the street.

"FLINT LOCKWOOD!"

He grinned as he looked across the street, a giggle erupting from his lips. Spike was stood across the street, dressed like Earl from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs - it was one of Mario's favourite movies, so they all decided to dress as the characters to show him in hospital. It'd cheer him up.

Pauline had even dressed as Sam, and she HATED dressing up.

"Whatchu doing, Flint Lockwood?!" Spike asked as he ran over to him, doing the signature run, and getting in his face. Luigi tried to keep up the act as well as Spike was, but he just kept on giggling.

"You look silly." He laughed, poking his nose. Spike cracked a smile, before regaining his composure and frowning again.

"FLINT LOCKWOOD!"

Luigi screamed out a laugh and took off down the pavement, Spike chasing after him with a matching laugh. Pauline's giggles could be heard behind the phone, though he noticed a phrase she said. One he'd never heard before when watching the video.

"Oh Mario, what would we do without you?"

He remembered going to the hospital, sitting at Mario's bedside and reciting the tale of the day to him. Mario hadn't even been awake, the blow he took to his head leaving him unconscious for weeks.

His parents' attacks had been getting worse every time they did it. Luigi had always thought they were the main villains of his life.

He had been stupid to think that, really. Now he was at the hands of a beast, a beast who he didn't know if Mario was strong enough to fight.

Would he even see Mario again?

"Okay, okay. Remember though, the doctor said you can't put pressure on your ankle, Mario." Pauline's voice of reason came through the video as they entered the arcade. Mario waved his arm dismissively, enticing a laugh from Luigi.

"It was a recommendation, not an order." He insisted, before allowing himself to be pulled away by Spike. They always reverted back to being kids when in the arcade, and it was always hilarious to watch. "Besides, me and Spike got a date with dancing."

"Date, yes. Best way to word it. You two are practically married."

Spike pointed a joking finger at her, a teasing grin on his lips. "I may be aroace, but Mario's my soulmate." Luigi giggled and clapped his hands as Mario got down on one knee and pretended to propose to Spike randomly. He jumped up and down as his uncle wiped a fake tear and accepted the proposal.

"What are we gonna do with them, Lu?" Pauline asked him from behind the camera.

"Run away and take all the candy." Luigi suggested reasonably. He remembered the aftermath of that, Pauline bought out the entire sweetshop in the arcade. There were still sweets left in her closet to this day, and they had never let Mario or Spike have any of it.

"Let's celebrate our marriage."

"By dancing?"

"Fuck yeah, man!"

Mario and Spike, like little kids, ran towards the dance machine and inserted their coins, before absolutely getting into it. They certainly knew how to strut their stuff, their arms stretching out and their hips swaying.

Auntie Pauline had told him they always did that. Ever since they were teenagers, they'd always gone straight to the dance machines. He knew he was there for it, but he was a baby so he honestly couldn't remember it.

"Come on, Mario! You can do it!" Pauline cheered as Luigi jumped up and down excitedly. A song from the 80's was playing, Mario and Spike were into it. Even with a twisted ankle, Mario was still heaps above Spike in the points.

Not that they both weren't amazing at it.

The laughter still rang through his ears even as the video ended. Tears were streaming down his cheeks at this point, his head resting uncomfortably against the bars.

The sound of family felt bittersweet now.

The sound of his family.

He wanted to go home, go back to normal. He'd take a thousand kidnappings from his parents over this, because at least he knew there that Mario would always come and find him, without fail.

Now he didn't know where Mario was. He was alone, he didn't even have Spike or Pauline. Hell, he'd even give anything to see Gemma right now. Luigi just needed someone to hold onto, something, anything.

But nothing would come. No matter what, he'd still be trapped in this cage, hung above what was quite literally certain death with no way of escaping.

His head was burning, and not from the lava, but from the dread that had surged through his entire body.

He wasn't going home.

Was he?

[sparksinger]

rise of the beasts ficcage incoming

i finally finished my little oneshot based on 'rise of the beasts'. as usual it's angst, comfort and a whole load of fluff featuring optimus prime and elena. :3

give it a read if you fancy!

title: remember who you are

trigger warnings: implied/referenced homophobia, mention of the death of a parent

rating: mature

word count: 6.1k

summary: Rise Of The Beasts one-shot fic. Optimus Prime and Elena have a movie night which evokes powerful emotions in both of them. Catharsis and heartfelt conversations follow. (Nothing to do with my 'Love Just Is' series.)

beware of minor spoilers if you haven't seen the movie yet? it's not really spoilerific but there are some minor ones in there.

here it is on ao3

and here it is on ff.net

or you can read it below the cut if you can't be bothered to go to different sites. :3

Three years.

Three years to the day.  The passage of time had not made the emotional or metaphorical scars any easier for Elena to bear.  It was like the first time when she saw the back of a large man, a man, who with his easy-going and confident swagger, could have been her father.

For every time she inhaled the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the smell of a freshly printed New York Times. 

Every time a cab zipped past her in the busy metropolis.

Time, she decided, did not heal all wounds.  In fact, it did not heal wounds period. 

It seemed to Elena that pain and time worked in seamless symbiosis, creating a sick plethora of ­healing, heartache, regret and a whole other load of complicated emotions that she knew she wasn’t in the slightest bit ready to attempt to unravel or understand.

Her mother had become increasingly distant since the death of her father, not even phoning Elena to congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru.  Ever since Elena had bolstered the courage to tell her parents the painful truth that she had been hiding for so many years, Elena’s mother had made her disapproval of Elena’s orientation clear without ever needing to utter a single word.

Benjamin Wallace’s reaction however, had been one of an entirely different calibre.

He had unfolded himself from his favourite armchair, discarding his crossword puzzle in the Times without a second thought.

Elena remembered watching with anxious trepidation, her breath bated as she watched her father uncurl himself to his full 6’3” height.  She remembered how the cold, uneasy trepidation had fallen away as he opened his arms to her, his ochre-brown eyes softening as he drank in her appearance, as if he was a blind man seeing her for the first time.

She remembered the feel of her hand in his, the way he had reached out to bridge the gap between them, encompassing her hand in his bigger one, wrapping her in the safety and security of his unconditional and eternal love.

“Baby girl, I just want you to be happy.  That is all I have ever wanted for you.  There is nothing you could do that would make me not love you.  You are my single greatest accomplishment in this life, and I am honoured to call myself your father.” 

Elena closed her eyes against the memory, inhaling it greedily, immersing herself in every sensory aspect of it.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

The coffee scent that seemed to cling to his very skin.

The overwhelming sense of safety and love that permeated everything that he touched.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

Elena shook her head, attempting to dislodge the memories and push them back to somewhere that would be significantly less painful.  She did not need to be dealing with errant thoughts and emotions when she had plenty of menial things to keep her occupied for the time being.

She placed her hands on her hips and observed the space before her.

The abandoned warehouse-turned-Autobot-base hadn’t changed much in the three and a half months since she had Noah had met the Autobots. 

In the back-left corner of the expansive open space was a crude ‘R&R’ station.  Elena smiled to herself when she remembered asking Mirage what ‘R&R’ stood for.  The incredulous look he had given her would have been offensive if he wasn’t so damned endearing with it at the same time.

“What do you think it stands for, Chica?  ‘Rest and repairs’!”  He’d said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe.

The berth that had been assembled by Arcee and Optimus was an impressive size.  It was thirty feet in length and a good fifteen feet from the ground.  A little big for the other Autobots, but necessary if Optimus was ever knocked out of commission.

Elena’s thoughts turned to the task at hand as the image of the Autobot leader came across her mind’s eye.

She knew she had about an hour before he got back from his patrol. 

An hour was all she needed.

Over the past few days, Noah had helped her to bring all the necessary equipment to the abandoned warehouse, storing it under a discreet pile of black tarpaulin and strategically placed spare parts. 

The largest piece of equipment that she needed had been placed on the overhead catwalk for her by a helpful Bumblebee only the day before.

“’Talk to me…oh, what’s going on?’”  Elena had laughed as Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On sounded from Bumblebee’s speakers.

“A surprise Bee!  You’ll be able to see it once Optimus has.”

The friendly yellow Autobot scout had helped her to secure and mount the equipment to the catwalk platform, chirping curiously and playing various sound bites through his radio throughout the duration of the installation process.

Elena took her backpack off and retrieved the film reel within it.  She affixed it carefully to the projector, making sure that the machine was calibrated properly and making sure that the angle would line up correctly with the screen.

Once she was satisfied with the set-up of the film projector, she replaced the cover and made her way over to the ladder that would grant her access to the catwalk platform. 

She left her backpack on the floor and made sure to grip the ladder firmly with both hands before placing one of her Doc Marten clad feet on the lowermost rung.

Elena had never been the biggest fan of heights, and her recent experience with giant extra-terrestrial robots had not exactly warmed her to the concept.

Pushing the annoying thoughts to the back of her mind, she determinedly ascended the ladder, laughing at herself in a dark corner of her mind.  She had survived a battle for her planet’s survival and yet she was scared of climbing a ladder that was roughly twelve feet high?

Pathetic. ­­

It did not feel so pathetic however, when she heard a low groaning sound, a sound like the creak of fatigued metal giving way under her weight.

She scrambled quickly up the rest of the ladder and tucked her legs over the edge of the catwalk platform just as the offending object clattered to the ground with an earth-resounding crash.  The noise was temporarily deafening and for a split second, she was back on the bridge in Peru, listening to the deafening clash of metal against metal as titan fought titan.

“Elena, shut it down!”  Optimus Prime’s command as he charged to jump the gap between the key console and the bridge. 

She remembered how his heavy footfalls had reverberated in her chest, making her very ribs feel like they were vibrating.

She sighed, leaning over the edge of the catwalk to see if the ladder situation was at all salvageable.

It was not.

The ladder had fallen completely flat onto the concrete floor below and there was no way on earth that she could reach it without actually leaving the catwalk platform itself, which in turn defeated the object of her needing the ladder in the first place.

She shrugged to herself and made her way over to the mounts holding the projector screen in place.  She undid one side first and then the other, untwisting the mounts that were secured like screw nails.  The projector screen unravelled with a satisfying sound, not dissimilar to the sound a boat’s sail made when it was released.

She was pleased with the overall size of the screen.  It covered a good part of the catwalk railing that it was suspended from, and its generously large size ensured that it would be seen by large and small individuals alike.  All in all, she was satisfied with the set-up of the space that was available to her.  There weren’t many options available in the abandoned warehouse, but she felt that she had utilised the space available to her to the best of her ability. 

All she had to do now was wait for Optimus to get back from his patrol.

She sat down on the edge of the catwalk, allowing her legs to dangle over the side while she wrapped her arms around the lowermost railing.

The corrugated iron floor of the catwalk still retained some of the day’s heat, a heat that she felt on the backs of her thighs as she lowered herself to the floor.  The weather lady that very morning on WABC-TV had declared the late heatwave an ‘Indian’ summer. 

Before she had left her apartment that morning, Elena had elected for a plain white camisole paired with a battered, pinafore-style faded blue denim romper suit.  Her father had bought it for her four birthdays ago and it was nearing the end of its public life.  Sooner rather than later it would be no good except when she cleaned her apartment, but the thought of parting with it made her heart accelerated to a panicked and frantic rhythm.

A strategically tied bandana adorned her head, keeping her natural curls close to her scalp in an attempt to combat the year’s late, oppressive heat. 

The temperature had hovered around the low eighties and, a fact not helped by the minimal amount of rainfall that New York City had had so far for the month of September.

Elena swung her legs slowly to and fro, her dark brown eyes tracking the movement of her Doc Marten boots.  Doc Marten boots that were scuffed, paint-damaged and at least eight years old.

A nostalgic smile kissed her lips as a sudden memory played in the forefront of her mind, like her own personal picture show.

“Elena, when are you gonna polish those god-damned boots?!  I ain’t havin’ nobody thinkin’ your father and I raised you in some poorhouse girl!” 

Her mother’s shrill insistence that everything had to look and be perfect all the time.

“Easy Gloria!  The girl ain’t gonna lose out on anything in life if she’s got some scuffed boots!” 

The gentle cadence of her father’s calm and deep voice. 

Equally as powerful, she remembered her mother’s disappointment and anger when she learnt of her daughter’s chosen career path.  She had been most horrified at the fact that her daughter was not aspiring to become the devoted and loving wife of a high-flying, Manhattan based defence attorney. 

Elena pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, not wanting to deal with them right at that particular moment.  She was prone to ruminating and then spiralling into a deep, introspective pit of her own making.  It was seldom a happy place to be, and she already devoted enough of her mental energy spending time there.

Energy that she was determined on claiming back for herself.

Elena was pulled from her self-imposed reverie by the low growl of a Freightliner’s engine. 

She lifted her head in time just to see Optimus roll to a complete stop, his airbrakes hissing lightly with the motion.  She watched with ill-disguised awe and amazement as the vehicle parts shifted and reconfigured themselves until they had arranged into the body of the Autobot leader.

He ducked as he came in through the large doorway, his heavy footfalls reverberating in Elena’s chest.  His blue optics widened when he saw her, clearly not expecting anybody to be at the warehouse when he returned from his patrol. 

In her hurry to stand, she smashed her head against the top bar of the railing on the catwalk.  Pain shot through her cranium and into her forehead, making her see stars for a few seconds.

She heard, rather than saw Optimus hurrying towards her, his blue lower legs filling the majority of her field of vision.  Hydraulics hissed as he raised a hesitant servo. 

“Elena!  Are you alright?  Are you at all injured?”  His deep baritone was laced with concern. 

“Argh god-dammit!” she muttered, more to herself than to him.   She lifted her eyes to meet his earnest blue gaze.  Hilariously, he was slightly bending his knees so as to bring himself more to her level.  It was kind of endearing to see the massive, twenty-foot tall Autobot leader trying to get to her perspective.

“Elena, are you injured?”  his tone was a little more pressing this time, his optics worriedly fixed on her. 

“No, just my pride.”  She groaned, rubbing a tentative hand over the top of her head.

Ouch.

There was definitely going to be a lump there in the morning.

Optimus straightened, visibly satisfied with her answer. 

“Why did you do that?  If you are going to strike things with your head, would it not be pertinent to don protective headwear first?  It is my understanding that human bones, and therefore human craniums are very fragile.” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”  she uttered, a little defensively. 

He held both hands up defensively.  “Duly noted.  I will not make such an assumption again.”  He eyed her thoughtfully before speaking again.  “You are stressed.  Your cortisol levels are currently elevated to eighteen micrograms per decilitre; a significant amount higher than the average of ten micrograms per decilitre for your species.” 

Elena worked hard to smooth her face into some semblance of what she hoped was a polite smile.  “Did you just scan me?”

A brisk nod was her answer.

She sighed.  “Optimus, we’ve spoken about this before.  You can’t just go around scanning people.  It’s personal information.” 

The Autobot leader remained undeterred.  “I see no adverse consequences if the information revealed to me in my scan helps me to alleviate some pain, physical or otherwise.” 

That stopped her in her tracks.  She stared blankly at him for a few seconds.  His face was an inscrutable mask of polite interest, his ‘brows’ sitting in two perfectly neutral lines above his cerulean optics. 

In the end, she opted for a diversion tactic. 

“What do you think of the set-up?” she asked, nodding towards the screen. 

Optimus took the bait, casting his gaze downwards. 

His ‘eyebrows’ (could she even call them that?) rose and disappeared slightly behind his helm as he examined the screen.  He reached out a gentle hand and poked it lightly with one finger, seemingly surprised by how easily it gave way underneath his touch.

“What is it?” he rumbled, lifting his optics back up so that they rested on Elena once more. 

Elena took a deep breath.

“I thought that you and I could have a movie night, if you want?  I know Arcee and Wheeljack are busy in South America with Primal looking on how to harvest that raw energon and Mirage and Bumblebee are holed up outside Noah’s apartment.  They are having a gaming tournament on Kris’ Sega Drive.” 

Optimus did not speak for a moment, seemingly struck speechless. 

“You wish to…have a movie night with me?”  he spoke quietly, his voice almost vulnerable. 

Elena laughed.  “You don’t have to sound so scared!  I just thought it might be nice for you to have some downtime.  Don’t think about work for a while.  Lose yourself in a world of make-believe, even if it’s just for one hour.” 

Optimus smiled gently at her.  Even though it was only small, it transformed his entire face.  The metallic mosaic that made up his facial plating shifted and allowed her a glimpse of someone who had not yet been touched by the horrific burdens and responsibilities that came with trying to co-ordinate a war from an alien planet.

“You should do that more often.”  She watched in amusement as his eyebrows shot upwards into his helm again.

“I am afraid I am not following your meaning, Elena.  What should I do more often?”

“Smile!  You have a nice smile.”  Once again it appeared that she had rendered the Autobot leader totally and utterly speechless. 

This time, it was he who opted for the diversion tactic. 

“Why are you on the catwalk?  You will need to set up the movie, I am not familiar with how to operate human technology, and I fear my hands are too large to work such technology without causing irreparable damage.” 

Elena smiled warmly at him.  “I can help you with that last part, but you might need to help me get down from here.  The ladder fell as I was climbing up it.” 

His optics widened in alarm.  “Were you injured?”  His voice resumed the earlier tones of his concern. 

“Nah.  I got up here in time.  I’ve just been stuck up here for the last hour or so.  No big deal.” 

“It is a ‘big deal’ Elena.  You could have been harmed.  Where is this ladder now?” 

He followed her point to where the ladder had fallen earlier. 

Walking over, he bent from the waist and picked the ladder up easily in both of his large hands, turning it over and examining it.  Blue rays of light shot out from his optics as he continued his thorough inspection.

“What are you doing?”  Elena asked, making her way over to the edge of the platform where the ladder had previously been mounted. 

“Determining where the structural weakness is.”  Optimus replied, focusing on the top of the ladder.  He gave it a light tap with the index and middle fingers of his left hand.  A deafening clang resounded throughout the room, made all the more impressive by the warehouse’s acoustics.  The ladder had broken clean in half, one piece clasped in Optimus’ right hand and the other laying in a cloud of dust on the concrete floor.

“Hmm.  This is not salvageable.”  He retrieved the other piece from the floor and walked over to the wide doors of the warehouse, the ones he had entered through earlier and easily lobbed the pieces of the ladder outside as if they weighed nothing at all. 

He made his way back over to Elena then, the fingers of his left hand gently uncurling as he held it out in front of her. 

“May I?”  He offered her another gentle smile, his optics softening by a tiny degree.

Elena hesitated.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but he was so huge.

Humming The Sign under her breath, Elena walked towards Optimus’ outstretched hand.  She watched in awe as his fingers gently wrapped themselves easily around her midsection, lifting her with alarming ease. 

Involuntarily, her knees came up and she grabbed onto Optimus’ thumb so tightly she felt like her knuckles might tear through her skin.  She scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the sensation of leaving her stomach behind on the catwalk overtook her senses. 

A low chuckle rumbled somewhere from above her.  “Easy Elena.  I’ve got you.  I promise I won’t drop you.”  Optimus’ voice was a gentle, sonorous baritone that curled around her, caressing her senses like the forgotten embrace of a dear friend.

She didn’t respond but kept her koala-like grip tight on Optimus’ thumb, not trusting her reaction if she opened her eyes and saw how high she was suspended in midair. 

Another amused chuckle echoed deep in her chest.  “Elena, you can put your feet down.  You will find solid ground.” 

Cautiously, Elena lowered one leg, toeing the open air with her Doc Marten boot.  She was surprised to find the ground a lot sooner than she had anticipated.  Not quite trusting that, she very slowly creaked one eye open and saw that Optimus was right.  She looked up at him sheepishly and almost burst out laughing at the position he was in. 

He was crouched right down, almost on his haunches.  His right hand was splayed palm-down on the concrete floor, a counter-balance for his immense weight.  The fingers of his left hand were still wrapped firmly but gently around  her middle, patiently waiting for her to regain a steady, vertical base before he withdrew. 

She placed both feet firmly on the ground, simultaneously loosening her grip on Optimus’ thumb before letting go of it completely.  She offered him a sheepish smile, her fingers interlocking themselves together in her embarrassment.  “Thanks Optimus, ‘preciate it.” 

He inclined his helm graciously at her, pulling his hand back and resting it atop one of his bent knees.  “You are most welcome.  I am pleased to have been of assistance.  I will see about getting that ladder replaced as soon as possible.” 

He remained in the crouched position, his optics carefully trained on Elena.  “And in answer to your earlier query…I would be honoured to join you for a…movie night.  May I ask what move we are going to be watching?” 

Elena grinned up at him, all her earlier trepidation forgotten.  “Well, it’s technically a new one.  It isn’t out on VHS yet, but I don’t think there’s a drive-in theatre in the city that would accommodate your vehicle mode.  So Noah got a copy of the movie from his friend Reek.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow.  “Is this the gentleman who pirates cable television?” 

Elena stared at him dumbfounded.  “How on earth do you know that?!” 

Optimus had the grace to offer her a wry smile.  “Mirage is not the best at keeping certain information confidential.  However, in the grand scheme of things…I do not think a pirated movie is going to turn you into a hardened criminal Elena.”  He winked playfully at her before drawing his index finger across his lip plates in a ‘zipping’ motion. 

Elena was momentarily lost for words.

Since their return from South America and near death, Optimus’ stoic and stern demeanour had softened a lot.  He was more talkative and seemed to take genuine interest and enjoyment from interacting with both Noah and Elena. 

He would inquire after Kris’ health from Noah, asking if his little brother had had any bad flare ups recently or if at long last, he had managed to defeat the Bowser level on his ‘handheld video game device.’ 

He would spend long hours talking with Elena about her work and where her interest in ancient artifacts had started.  He had been one of the first to warmly congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru and her initiative in decoding the code to the panel that would have allowed them to deactivate the Transwarp key. 

She decided she liked this friendly, slightly goofy side of Optimus Prime.

She shook her head, realising a few seconds had passed and Optimus was still patiently waiting for an answer.

“It’s a film called The Lion King.  It is a kid’s film, but it has one of my dad’s favourite actors in it.  He’s doing one of the voices.  I know my dad would have wanted to see it.” 

Optimus’ optics softened at the mention of her father. 

“Then I would be honoured to watch The Lion King with you Elena.” 

“Awesome!  Take a seat then, it’ll take be two seconds to get the projector running.” 

His joints creaked and his hydraulics hissed as he rose to his full height, casting a long shadow over Elena.  He moved to sit against the wall directly opposite the screen, in the same position he had assumed when he had been a passenger in Stratosphere’s alt-mode; one leg stretched out in front of him with the other brought up to his chest, one arm resting easily on top of his bent knee.

She hurried over to the projector, double checking that everything was calibrated correctly and in the correct place before she set it to run.  Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she started the film reel and half-ran to where Optimus was sitting.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was sitting on the floor. 

“Aww man!”  She exclaimed, feeling foolish at the fact that she had overlooked such a massive detail. 

Optimus’ hydraulics hissed slightly as he turned his head to gaze down at her.  “What it is the matter?” 

“You’re sitting on the floor!  I should’ve thought of something for you to sit on.” 

He surprised her by uttering a barking laugh.  “Worry not Elena.  Any flat surface is more than suitable for me to recline on.  I do not require comfort in the same way that you humans do.”  He eyed the surrounding area, looking first to his left and then his right.  “However, where are you going to sit?” 

Elena laughed at her own forgetfulness.  “It’s okay Optimus.  I don’t mind sitting on the floor.  It’s no biggie.” 

Both of their attention was momentarily commandeered by the screen turning black as the film projector rolled. 

“If you would not be averse to it, would you like to sit on my shoulder?  It would be marginally more comfortable than the floor and I will be able to keep you warm.  The temperature drops quite quickly once the evening closes in.” 

Elena surprised herself when she agreed to his proposition with no hesitation at all.

His large hand descended towards her once more, fingers open and waiting for her to bridge the gap between them. 

She stepped forward into his grasp and was lifted gently and tenderly to his massive right shoulder.  His hand hovered behind her until she had lowered herself into a seated position, her legs dangling over the edge of his chest. 

“Umm, thank you Optimus.  Is this okay?”  She gestured to her legs, trying hard not to swing them to and fro as was her habit. 

He nodded the affirmative, his expression unreadable. 

“Cool.”  She settled back, leaning against the corrugated metal wall of the warehouse.  A sudden thought made her jerk upright again.  “Wait a minute, you’re not ticklish or anything, are you?” 

Optimus chuckled lightly.  “No Elena, I am not ticklish.  Assume whatever posture in which you are comfortable.” 

Satisfied, Elena assumed her earlier position, bringing one leg up to almost mirror Optimus. 

A comfortable silence fell between them as the opening notes of a dramatic voice sounded over the speakers Noah had hardwired into the warehouse within days of their return from Peru.

Elena watched, enraptured as beautiful scenes of the African plains rolled across the screen.  She was spell-bound by the colours and the emotion that the accompanying music stirred within her, piquing a curiosity for what was yet to come. 

She sneaked a sideways glance at Optimus, whose optics where trained on the screen.  He seemed to be as every part drawn in by the movie as she was. 

She felt the fine, baby-like hairs on the back of her neck rise along with the reflexive goosebumps across her arms and legs when she heard the deep, resonant tones of James Earl Jones’ voice coming from the character Mufasa.

She noticed, with interest, Optimus’ visible bristling when the main antagonist, Scar, was introduced into the cast.  He ground his lip plates subtly together, tightening the fingers of his left hand into a clenched fist at the same time. 

She watched, her throat thick with emotion as Mufasa gently reprimanded Simba after his reckless actions in the Elephant Graveyard, her eyes filming up with nostalgic tears as she watched them play rough and tumble. 

She could not however, stop the sharp intake of breath as she watched Scar cruelly throw Mufasa to his death, her own expression mirroring the one of hurt and horror on little Simba’s face. 

Tears fell freely and silently down her face, painting the pain and loss that had ached for so long to be released from her broken heart.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting Optimus to see the vulnerability that was plastered across her face.

Optimus, ever tactful, shifted his helm slightly so that it was inclined towards her.  She leaned gratefully against it, silently accepting the comfort and support that he so freely offered.

She did not stop weeping for the rest of the movie but did find it within herself to laugh when Timon and Pumba attempted to distract the villainous hyenas with their ‘drag in hula’ skit.  Fresh tears assaulted her eyes as she watched Simba ascend Pride Rock for the first time since his acceptance of his role as king. 

She let herself feel the gentle flutter of her own heartbeat when Simba and Nala proudly introduced their newborn cub to the other residents of the plain, the circle of life completing once more. 

As the credits rolled across the black backdrop of the screen, Optimus turned fully to regard her.  His round optics were kind and gentle, appraising her with an unspoken sense of concern. 

“Are you alright Elena?” 

That one simple question seemed to unlock the floodgates within her. 

Her tears fell without pause now, creating a constant stream of moving liquid down her face.  Optimus’ large visage went watery in her vision, obscured as it was by the relentless tears falling from her eyes. 

With a gentleness that belied his enormous size, Optimus gently wrapped his fingers around Elena’s mid-section once more and lifted her, carefully setting her down on his right forearm.  He kept the arm she was on tucked close to his chest and leaned down closer to her, keeping his left hand cupped securely around her back.

Without even really thinking about what she was doing, Elena raised her arms and wrapped them as much as she could around the Autobot leader’s neck.  She felt him stiffen lightly in surprise before relaxing and leaning down into her embrace. 

She felt his hand tighten slightly around her back and shoulders, his metallic thumb brushing against her arm in a comforting gesture.  She buried her face into the space between his neck and chin, aching to feel the close affection of a parent.

An embrace that she had not felt for three years. 

Elena felt the smooth rocking sensation as Optimus gently moved first forwards and then backwards.  His thumb continued stroking her arm gently while his arms held her together as she fell apart.

“Shh.  It’s okay Elena.  You can let go.  I’ve got you.”  His gentle, affectionate cadence was all that she needed to be pushed off the edge and into emotional free-fall. 

Her sobs came slowly at first, creeping up upon her as the incoming tide creeps up on the beach.  They exited out of her slowly and quietly, a slow bleed of pain that she had denied herself from feeling since her father’s death three years previously. 

Then something inside her kicked up a gear. 

Anger and resentment.

Anger that her mother would not accept her for who she was.

Resentment for the fact that her mother had driven her first love away without remorse.

Anger that her father would never get to see her achievements.

The ever reaching, devastating power of the sadness that seeped from every pore in her body at the realisation that she would never again see her father, hear his voice or smell the coffee-stained newspapers in his cab. 

She cried like a wounded animal, the intensity of her pain drawing cruel lacerations up one side of her heart and down the other.  Her breaths came in short, sharp cries, like she had just taken part in a triathlon. 

She screamed out, rageful cries of someone who had taken all the pain they could bear. 

In a moment of pure vulnerability, the sound of Elena’s pain ripped up through her throat.  Her pain was echoed in her screams, reverberating with a fierce and desperate longing.  With each cry, her sobs became a little less intense as she came down from her abrupt adrenaline rush.  Each shaky exhalation was a cathartic purge of the sorrow and grief that had haunted her for years. 

Hydraulics hissed as Optimus gently withdrew from their embrace, looking at Elena with a profound sense of sadness present in his astute optics. 

“Elena, are you alright?”  He repeated his earlier question, holding her in the intensity of his soul-reaching gaze.  

She lowered her eyes from his, dropping her chin to her chest as a sudden feeling of overwhelming mortification creeped up her neck and into her face. 

Servos whirred as a gentle finger was placed under her chin, lifting her face to meet his optics once more. 

“Elena?” 

“I am…okay.  I’m really sorry about that Optimus.  I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen.”  She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, all too aware of their red and swollen appearance.  

“Do not ever be sorry for your feelings Elena.”  Optimus said, brushing a last few stray tears from her face with his thumb.  “I am profoundly sorry for your loss, and though I never had the pleasure of meeting your father, I believe he would be immeasurably proud of the woman that you are today.” 

Elena regarded him with a raised brow. 

“I say this because although I have only known you for a short amount of time, you have always conducted yourself with honour and dignity.  Even when my own behaviour was…less than courteous to you and your kind. 

“You had no reason to help us, yet you did, asking nothing in return.  In short, we could not have found the Transwarp key without your assistance.  And I wish to say, ‘thank you.’  Your valiant effort for my kind and I, as well as our planet, means more to me than I can articulate.  I am in your debt Elena.”

Elena, who had never been comfortable with receiving praise, squirmed awkwardly in Optimus’ grasp. 

“Noah did most of the hard work.  He took on Scourge and those weird spider-bot things.  He came to get the key for you from the museum.  I just stowed away really.” 

Optimus gave her a knowing look.  “Who worked out that the other half of the key was in Peru?  Who worked out the access code to the panel on the bridge?  Who,” he spoke more softly, his sonorous voice barely above a whisper, “who opposed vehemently to the destruction of the remaining half of the key once it was located?” 

Elena felt her blood run cold in her veins.  “You…you knew about that?”  Her own voice was barely audible to her ears.

Optimus surprised her by uttering a low chuckle.  “We Autobots possess extremely sensitive hearing Elena.  I do not blame Noah for his original intentions.  However, your…passionate opposition of destroying the remaining half of the key resounded deeply with me.  I could not understand why a mere human” he offered her an apologetic wink, “would want to help our kind.  I am beyond grateful that you did however.”

Elena half-smiled, refastening her bandana where it had become a little loose.  “We ain’t all bad y’know.  Sure, there are some evil bastards out there, more than there should be, but there are good ones too.  You just have to find ‘em.” 

Optimus hummed thoughtfully, seeming to agree with her. 

“Like Charlie.  Bee told me about her, when he first landed on Earth?” 

Optimus nodded.  “Indeed.  He speaks most highly of her.  I know he misses her terribly.” 

“You know, my dad always used to say, ‘if you keep your eyes and your ears open, life will show you everything you need to know.’” 

“A wise and accurate sentiment.  Your father sounded like a very wise and intelligent man.”  Optimus mused, bathing Elena in a pool of gentle blue light from his optics. 

“He was, he really was.”  Elena’s voice carried a sad tone of nostalgia, one that was tinged with the happiness of memories passed but burdened with the weight of absent love. 

Optimus seemed to hesitate before he spoke again.  “On my world, we believe that the ones who have passed on are in the AllSpark, reunited with our fallen brethren and wise mentors from the Golden Age.  In this, we are safe in the knowledge that we are never truly alone. 

“What I am trying to say Elena, is this; you are your father’s daughter.  Part of him, if you will excuse my borrowing of the sentiment from the movie we have just watched, lives on in you.  You are his legacy; you are his hope.  Remember that, and you cannot go far wrong.  Remember who you are, and I know his memory and spirit will walk proudly in step beside you.”

Elena hugged Optimus again, feeling the soft vibrations of his systems against her soft skin. 

“Thank you, Optimus.  Till all are one, right?”  She asked, holding out a closed fist to him. 

A gentle, warm smile transformed his face as he raised his massive left fist to lightly touch against hers.

“Indeed Elena.  Till all are one.”

[heliosoll]

TW: respawning, mentions of suicide

I don't want anyone to feel bad - I'm not mad - but I want everyone to know that I will not be answering asks about wanting to respawn through suicide. First, they're extremely triggering for me and many others and I don't want anyone to see that kind of content.

Second, I've made my opinion on respawning and respawning by suicide very clear. I will never support choosing to commit. I will never tell you it's okay or guide you through how to do it. This isn't just a matter of personal belief. This is me protecting myself and others by not straight up telling someone how to kill themself. The fact that this has even become a "method" is upsetting enough. I'm not going to add to it by telling people, usually very young people, that it's okay. It isn't. Full stop. It's never okay.

I've tried very hard to educate people on other methods of respawning and why committing is never the "right" choice. And I'm never going to stop doing that because multiple people now know those options are available and aren't choosing to commit. The shifting community has "normalised" this for far too long and I'm not going to sit by and watch it happen.

Listen, I don't know you, I don't know your life or what you've been through, or why you think this is the right option for you. But regardless, I'm never going to tell you that it's okay. I am always going to try to dissuade you.

Almost every single time someone is making this choice, they haven't truly considered every single option available. They're in pain or they have trauma and they're making a rash decision because they think it'll help them escape.

If you've gone through something, you can revise your entire life. You can make it so that it never happened. If the people in your life are awful, you can revise them or get new people. If you don't want those painful memories, you can erase those memories. If you just want to start anew, you can start anew without doing that. If you don't want to be connected to that reality anymore, you can literally cut the connection between your consciousness and that reality. There is a different option for every problem you could ever think of.

People usually chose to commit because they either didn't know there were other options or they knew but stopped thinking about how this would actually affect things, including themselves and the people in their life. People choose this because they think it's an easy out that'll guarantee them happiness. I'm telling you now that no, it won't. That kind of decision will haunt you wherever you go. You'll get to a point in your DR where you're older than you are now, and you'll wonder what life would've been like if you had given it a second chance. What would it be like if you revised it and got rid of painful memories? What would it be like if you had given yourself a better life there too?

I understand wanting to just give up and start over. I've been there. I was there for years. But I'm sorry, I'm never going to tell you that it's okay to do that. You have every option available to take control of your life and make it what you want. You can make it better for yourself here. Even if you still want to respawn, you can manifest that the you in the reality you left is living their dream life. Please tell me, why would you want to give up on them? They're literally you. You deserve a good life. You deserve a life that you don't want to run away from or give up on. You can literally respawn and then script/intend that your old reality is better than it ever was. What exactly about committing would ever seem more appealing than that?

I know I can't change everyone's mind, but I can still try. I just need people to know that I absolutely will not be telling you how to do it. I will 100% gatekeep that info because, sorry, but I would rather you stay alive. If you feel like you don't have anyone that would miss you if you were gone, please know that I would, and everyone else who mourns respawners who choose this path would too. I'm not trying to guilt trip you here either. This is something that upsets a lot of people; you're never going to just fade away into obscurity, we're still thinking of them and we're still wishing we could've helped sooner.

Listen, if you want to talk to me privately, we can. You can send an ask off anon and I'll send you a dm so we can talk. I can't promise that I'll be there 24/7, I do have a life off of tumblr, but I will be there for anyone who is seriously considering this. This part may sound guilt-trippy, but I need you to understand how upsetting it is for me to have people sending me asks saying they want to commit. It's terrifying knowing that people out there are not only genuinely considering it but that my blog could have aided in their decision. The fear and guilt that comes with knowing that someone could've read my posts and decided that committing was the best option for them is awful. I never want to be part of that. I never want to be part of the reason why it happened. So no, I'm not going to tell you it's okay or that you can do whatever you want. But I will be there for you if you need it.

Just... whatever you do, please reconsider. I always recommend just trying to revise your CR or make things better for you now first. Try it. Just try revising and making things better first. Then you can decide if you truly want to do that. Because I can promise you now, that you won't want to. Not after giving yourself a second chance at a good life. Please think of yourself too. Of the younger you who still believes in fairytales. Or the older you that just bought their dream home. Think of the life you could have. Of the life that you can give yourself now. Do you really want to give that up?

[cursedfavorite]

friday, march 3rd, 2023.

it's been almost a year since i've actually used this blog. i thought of it again for the first time in a while when i googled maddie's name in search of her social media, and found her obituary, instead.

maddie was a girl in my summer camp cabin, back in 2018 and 2019. i keep having to refrain from calling her my friend; we only talked some, we barely interacted outside of camp, and i highly doubt she would've considered me a friend in return. i remember how much i wanted to be her friend, though. i picked favorites at that camp, and she was my favorite, but i thought she was too cool for me, so i decided to not force anything on her too much.

she was a tomboy, and a leader; someone you could depend on. she looked out for the shy kids. she was the main reason our cabin had its inside jokes. she was sassy, and a little dark sometimes. she was the kind of person who doesn't even need to do anything to light up the room. she just had a lively energy about her that made her so easy to like. i also found out through the site that she was a very musical person, and loved the color magenta. if we had been able to interact again today, i think we would have gotten along really well. she died in 2021.

i've been doing badly since finding out about maddie's death. it's changed everything for me. the day i found out, there wasn't a single activity that could get me to forget about her, not even for even a split second. it's been two weeks now, and it's gotten easier, but it hasn't gone away. i don't have to be actively thinking about her anymore for her death to still affect me. i can't eat anymore. me finishing a subway sandwich yesterday was a huge accomplishment. i can't take care of my hygiene anymore. my mouth hurts so bad because i used to be really good at keeping up with brushing and flossing, and now i've stopped almost entirely. i can't sleep anymore. it's midnight right now. my heart is randomly assaulted by such a painful feeling of longing that it feels like it'll burst. i'm at least glad i've stopped bursting into tears. i have to be careful what songs i listen to, because even the ones i wouldn't expect can cause me problems now. memories of her that i haven't even thought of since they were actively happening keep popping into my mind these days, which i'm grateful for because i don't want to forget anything about her. i had abandoned my ukulele, but i started playing it again because i found out she played it. i made a magenta bracelet for her the night i found out, and whenever i really miss her, i slip it on and it helps. i want it to help more, though. i don't want the past to hurt me anymore. i thought i was getting better at not letting nostalgia hurt me, and then she died. my times at camp were the best times of my life, but now i can't look back at them anymore because she was such a huge part of it and her loss soaks into everything.

i just miss her. i really miss her. i looked up to her, and now i'm the one who's older. she's going to stay 15 forever, yet i still see her as a role model, and will continue to. it makes me feel so lost. my dad lives in the city she lived in. we've talked about me visiting him there, and how i wouldn't be able to handle such a long drive, but if i ever end up doing it... i think i'll leave some flowers for her. i'll make sure they're magenta, too.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Could you please do 4 with lots of banter maybe? And an amnesia fic with happy ending with any prompt that you haven't done yet? The first fic I read was based on Harry losing his memory and you wrote the 27 prompt so very beautifully. So please?

Thank you so much @slytherinnbitch for your request and your compliments. All the same for you, you are incredible my love.

It feels like rain

Dialogue Prompt- 18. We both know that i should walk away, but i can't.| TW- Alcohol | Angst with happy ending | Amnesia |

The smells of the scented candles invaded the entire living room as the music poured melodiously echoing the corners. Draco walked around the house making sure everything was close to perfect as they had planned, it'll be the perfect belated anniversary as they had planned. Everything was planned.

Only it wasn't.

The phone rung loudly, making Draco to stop chopping the coriander leaves. Huffing as the ringing grew louder, he wiped his hands over his floral customised apron embroidered with his and Harry's name and he finally picked up the call.

" hello "

" mr. Malfoy it's an emergency, we need you-"

" Macy I told you I can't. Didn't I tell you to find someone else-"

" Sir, it'-its-"

" it's what?"

" it's your boyfriend"

Draco’s breath was caught in his throat, his heartbeat quickening at the pronouncement. And then, everything stilled.

____________________________

What it's to be in love, draco had always wondered. Up until now he always thought that perhaps loving was in showering harry with gifts, or Maybe bringing him flowers, or making breakfast for him before leaving, or taking harry out for dinner, or maybe even letting him cry over his shoulder after he had a rough day but when life hurled and kicked draco's door down, everything as if twisted into untwisting circles and suddenly loving became a remembering to him.

It was no longer bringing harry his coffee in bed, but it was him adding quips everytime draco tried to soften thing's up. He still sees in Harry's movements how a part of him was twitching to touch draco, to feel him, to perhaps remember him but it was maybe harry holding himself back, the new harry, the one that would not allow conversations with draco for more than 10 minutes.

He could recall that night when he ran to the infirmary to look in depth what exactly had happened. 4 hours in the room, healing wounds, casting spells, stitching injuries, cleansing harry, he woke up in Draco's absence Only to be informed later,

" Harry's suffered amnesia "

Hope was what he was left to Drown into. A lingering small flicker of hope that perhaps in those long stares Draco gave harry while medicating him, he'd remember, or maybe he'd remember him in all the small conversation Draco's tries to make, or perhaps, he'll remember through those eyes. He hoped, and he hopes, still.

But Draco hated it in all honesty, but he had Faith, he had Faith that the man he loved is still in there and will one day come out. Only the time was running out and draco would soon have to let go of harry from keeping under observation. He was afraid that in the time all he's left, that if he doesn't remember, then how would Draco cope. It was already hard to look after harry every single day and feel his eyes brim with tears of trying to find his lost treasure.

" Macy told you me you spend a lot more time looking after me than Anyone else? What makes me special malfoy ?" Harry has asked one day

Draco stopped in his movements, giving him a curt smile" th- perhaps Because I know if I spend more time with you, you'll remember "

" why are you so obsessed with me remembering ? I mean it's not like it's such a big deal right. If anything I'm happy to have forgotten something's even " harry chuckled lightly.

Draco gulped down the knot that formed in the center of his chest, dug his nails firmly into this palms wishing that Harry would take his words back, for once harry could look at draco with a vision of more than just hatred..

As if harry sensed it he added " I- I don't know if we were friends Draco, if I have mistakenly hurt your feelings by saying that, then I'm sorry "

Draco hummed and practically ran out of the room. In that time Draco decided that not talking with harry would be a much better move than to have his feelings hurt everytime Harry opened his mouth.

But it was hard, it was hard when he realised that Harry had not once opened his mouth to say I love you, because he didn't remember..

It was late in night one day when Draco was attending harry as his last patient before he could go in loneliness,when it happened,

" can I ask you something ?" Harry asked. Draco was cleansing Harry's wounds on his back when he hummed..

"Have you,” He paused, his eyes fluttering close for a moment as he cleared his throat and asked, “have you ever been in love?"

Draco paused his movements, his heart clenching almost painfully in his chest, a knot in his throat.

" you don't have to answer if you don't want to "

Harry's muscles in the back tensed up with Draco's left arm resting on it. Draco inhaled sharply resuming cleansing when he responded "Yes,” He breathed, “yes, I have "

" what does it feel like ?" Harry asked, looking a little over his shoulder as though perhaps he wanted to watch Draco.

Draco licked his lips, smiling to himself a little as he remembered the Times when Harry had remembered Loving him " it's- it's complicated "

" how exactly ?" Harry asked again

" it's- love - it feels like rain "

" feels like rain ?"

They simultaneously whispered.

" how- how do you?" Draco stilled in a jerk

Harry turned around to face Draco, a weird look on his face "there's- there are things in my head. Like there are saying, they're all jumbled. Like I know it's there, but I can't remember who said them to me. All of it is not lost you know. At least that's what I think. But it happens only in the late hours of night when I remember something's and they vanish in the morning. I don't how to feel, but I know how I've felt before, it's all weird "

And in the dying flickering fire as if someone had dropped a log again, the fire of hope grew again in Draco.

"so- y- you're saying you remember but you can't remember who ?" Draco asked cautiously..

" I mean- yeah I think " harry replied.

Draco thought for a moment " I- "

" I feel as though most of these sayings are from Ginny "

Draco's breath hitched, stopping at the hilt, suddenly feelings as all of his organs collapsed into a whole, his brain screaming and all the memories automatically putting a lock on themselves and realisation hit Draco. Harry remembered his life before Draco, or so as it felt. Before Draco, harry had only one lover and that was Ginny and whatever recollection of phrases he had remained with of with Draco became faceless and it only sounded for Harry to feel like they're all from Ginny.

"i- perhaps " Draco replied briskly before he picked up the cotton again with shaking hands and did his wounds in a blurry vision, remaining silent.

" wait- how did- why did you say love felt like rain, isn't it what- I mean i-"

" I read it somewhere " Draco vaguely replied.

" oh " harry mouthed before he wore his shirt again and watched Draco hurriedly leave the room with slumped shoulders.

_____________________________

" pa, pa pa pa para ra rara ra " Draco hummed as he knocked down doors after door's, collapsing in his office chair, raising his legs over his table, watching a frame of Draco and harry resting over it. He smiled at it before he chugged down another gulp of whiskey burning his throat.

" sir- mr. Malfoy ?" Someone said as they flicked the light on watching Draco with narrowed eyes

" oh- Macy- oh love, you know I shouldn't call you love. Well but again, you did absolutely nothing. But you know you ruined my entire life "Draco's pale eyes glimmered in tears and he chugged down another gulp.

" si- sir.. I'm-"

" do me a favor and please, leave me alone " Draco sobbed. Macy looked at Draco in pity before she turned off the lights and walked away..

Draco remained there staring at the ceiling for a long time, river of tears flowing down his cheeks, wetting his neck and his shirt, sip after sip, he emptied the bottle, crying in the agony of pain that became friendlier minute by minute.

" liar" Draco mumbled to himself, then loudly " fucking pathetic liar" only he wished he could've yelled..

" you loved me, you said you'd never forget me, you said you could never live without me, there you are fucking breathing, living, surviving, taking my breath away, leaving me to die " draco mumbled to himself staring at harry in the picture. And he cried a little more too.

Draco smeared his face with tears, rubbing his hands over his face, releasing a shaky breath before he rested his forehead against the table and left heavy sobs, a weird pain settling into his chest that pulled him in deeper, something that left him empty, Hollow but yearning. Left him heart broken..

It was seconds later, or minutes or an hour later, he had lost the count before he got up and stumbled to Harry's room and as sobriety started settling into him, He watched harry from the door, gazing softly at the sleeping figure,he didn't want to wake him up.

" he'll be fine " Someone said besides him. Draco turned his head to see a patronus hanging in the air, it was maybe a stag, he didn't know, he didn't remember.

" what if he never remembers me ?" Draco asked as it the patronus would answer.

" trust me it'd be fine " it spoke again.

Draco watched the patronus bouncing with light blue light " you don't know that. I've only a day left with him, he'll leave from here and he wouldn't remember a single thing " Draco muffled in tears.

" it'd be fine, Draco, it will be "

Groaning, Draco threw his hand over the patronus, Making it evaporate in the air, faint words still whispering" it'd be fine" until the hallway grew dark again and Draco remained there watching harry from the door.

" what if you never come back to me ?"

And with the dying hope, Draco walked back home.

Only if he had known thing's would've changed the next night. The last night.

Draco has paraded the his healers office next morning, scenting of Harry's Cologne, wearing Harry's shirt and his pendant, he never understood why he did it, but he wore it, perhaps in the last rememberance. But no matter what he did, he couldn't bring himself to meet harry that very day. Every opportunity he got, a string tugged him back as if he wasn't ready to say goodbye and it was until the end of the day, he had to finally face Harry.

" you didn't come all day ?" Harry eyes had perhaps glimmered as Draco had entered but Draco purposely ignored it, he couldn't bring himself to hope, not anymore.

" I- I had things " Draco mumbled, wearing his gloves before he checked Harry's pulse, then looked over his scars.

" y- are you mad ?" Harry had asked several minutes later after Draco has remained suspiciously silent.

" why would I be ?"

" you haven't spoken a word " harry pointed.

" it's a strategy you see, it's easier to say goodbye now " Draco mumbled heavily as he pushed away his thrumming feelings.

"y- you'll never meet me after this ?" Harry asked innocently..

Draco bit his lips as he blinked his tears away, offering harry a little smile "I'll try "

Harry spoke again after several minutes, lifting the silence " can I ask you to do something ?"

" anything " Draco whispered.

" can you just like say something so I can remember you by it? I mean we might meet, but we might not right. So I- I just want to retain a memory, just of you "

Draco could've sworn his heart leapt several feets, throbbed Loudly and unshed tears appeared " why- why do you want to ?"

" I- I don't know. I just- I don't want to forget you " harry shrugged.

Draco inhaled before he faced harry, forming a little smile once again before he said " perhaps loving you will always remain a memory, but loving you had felt like stars colliding, sun shining and daisies blooming. Loving you was homely. Now loving you will be will only be a memory "

" who said that ?"

" me " Draco smiled and he went into writing Harry's last report before he'd be ready to go..

" that- nevermind" but Harry remembered looking at Draco's chest, watching carefully the necklace that hung around his neck..

Draco didn't see him again for the rest of the day, busying himself because then maybe, letting go would be easy, saying goodbye wouldn't hurt so much anymore as he knew it did. Maybe it'll become easier.

That night before leaving, Draco stood against Harry's door, watching him sleep one last time.

" we both know I should walk away, but I can't "

And yet, yet he walked away. And still remained.

The fire remained nothing more than a shimmering spark of red and orange and Draco saw it dying out on his couch, his knees pressed against his chest. He watched it slowly die, he watched it die.

But love wasn't remembering or their love wasn't ever supposed to be just a memory, their love was in loving, their love was, still.

That very night when Draco had revisited harry and Whispered the soft words embraced in love, the midnight stroke, harry remained awake and maybe that's why it all changed..

Maybe it was the midnight or maybe it was some unsettling feeling that had remained in Harry's chest when draco had spoken about loving and home, or maybe it was Because of the pendant he saw, he knew there was something..

It came in visions, little by little, like a reel forming, moving forward when Harry jerked awake, sitting still when he remembered. He remembered Loving.

Of course, it wasn't in loving, it was in giving another chance, it was in longing, it was in seeing Draco differently that day, it was in that smile that skipped his heart beat that changed everything..

It was in falling again, once again that he remembered. That he remembered Loving was like raining, slow at first, then rapid with middle, then soothing.

Harry jumped up from the bed, running down the hallways, Calling the home number, wishing Draco would pick up but the phone was resting on the side of the telephone, ignored on purpose.

" sir, I need you to calm down-"

" I need Draco. That's what I need. That's who I need.. don't you see I remember. I remember everything" harry manically yelled.

" yo- you remember ?"

" yes I remember. See I know. You're macy, you work under Draco, the first day you joined you spilled coffee all over Draco's shirt and somehow in trying to help him clean up, you changed his shirts colour to pink. Remember ?" Harry yelled

Macy looked in shock, words dying in her throat.

" I remember everything. I- I need to see Draco" harry ordered.

" but- he requested- he left "

" left ?where ?" Harry asked impatiently.

" he didn't say. He said he's going and didn't mention when he'll come back "

" that ass " Harry mumbled.

" do you have any idea where he might go ?" Harry shook macy violently.

" I- n-no I don't " she stammered. Harry tugged his hair as he started brainstorming, thinking about all the places he could be. All of them but nothing-

"of course, the cottage house " harry jumped up, adrenaline pumping inside every nerve of him.

" but- I - can't let you go " macy said

" oh watch me" and without even thinking Harry disapparted.

________________________________

Draco watched as the rain poured down, wetting the window. The fire had died down, maybe not even remaining sparks, and the room grew colder and darker with the absence of warmth and light. But he sat there, knees pressed against his chest, head resting on the wall behind him as his eyes begged for tears to stop, his fingers playing with the necklace lying on his chest.

And just as the thunder broke again, he saw the figure appearing in the living room. It should've scared him but Draco felt insane, hallucinated perhaps.

" Draco " it spoke..

Draco didn't reply, not wanting to feel stupid talking in hallucinations.

" it's me Draco. I'm here " he whispered.

" as if " Draco mumbled.

" I really am " he Whispered. Draco narrowed his eyes at the figure and stepped down the windowsill to face him.

" liar. I know you're not " Draco said as he approached him.

" I really am " he whispered as he too stepped closer.

Draco was an inch apart when he touched him, waiting for his hands to go through, only it didn't and Shock formulated like a slow chemical reaction and he gasped when he realised..

" you -"

" I am very much real " he chuckled holding Draco's sides.

" but you- you forgot "

" I remember, I remember everything Draco"

" no, you- you had amnesia. You're playing with me " Draco harshly Whispered..

He huffed " you think coasters make good wall posters and that they make good show pieces, that's why most of our coaster are on the wall instead of under the cups "

Draco stilled " yo- you-"

" I remember, love, I remember " and without thinking twice, Draco hugged harry breaking into heavy sobs. Mumbling incoherent words.

" I'm so sorry. I'm never forgetting you ever again. I'm so so sorry " harry Whispered as he hugged Draco tighter.

" i- I love you " Draco mumbled in sobs.

" I love you too. Fuck, I missed you "

The wind blew through the door, just as they broke the hug, the cold air stirring inside going through the fireplace, and they kissed, the fire grew again, lighting the darkness Again, the warmth invading again and Love settling in once again.

My greatest Apologies for delaying it longer than I ever should have. Ofc I'm back to writing, so further requests are soon to be delivered. Bear with me. Also thanks to @drarrywords

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[hyunnows]

love, [Y/N] | jjk

► PAIRING: Jungkook x reader

► CONTENT/WARNINGS: angst, mentions of fluffy memories, mc death, lots of Jungkook tears, best friends!au, mentions of unrequited love

► WORD COUNT: 2k+

► RATING: pg13

► SUMMARY: "It’s not fair that he was holding the last of you in his hands, unable to focus on anything other than the last words he’ll ever receive from you."

↳ A/N: I got this idea at 2:36 am and I don't know where it came from but oh well. This was meant to be a 300-word blurb and we ended up at 2k lol. I haven't written anything for Jungkook compared to Tae, and honestly, this maknae has been climbing my bias list so here's a semi-self-indulgent fic filled with angst and crying! I hope you enjoy it, please feel free to leave feedback and reblog! Also, STREAM BUTTER!

Positive note | Navigation | Taglist

Shaking with fear, Jungkook gripped your hand tightly, tears pouring out his red eyes as your patient monitor fluctuated slightly. With a quivering lip, he croaks, “C'mon [Y/N], wake up. For me? Please…”

He feels your small fingers squeeze his own gently, weakly, and hope beams across his face. But just as soon as the hope had come, it vanished, your paling fingers going stiff in his palm. The once steady beeping now a quickly accelerating sequence, the sound ringing in the brunet boy's ears as his eyes go wide and breath cuts short.

He feels the nurses pull at him, trying to drag him out the room and he thrashes against them, his nails digging into your hospital bed with all their might until his knuckles turn white and his vision blurs. Loud sobs rack through his body as he slumps in the nurses’ arms, pressing the balls of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears and the burning. His cries almost choke him, the occasional cough jerking his body harshly.

When he sees the familiar face of the doctor, he prays that the downcast gaze and frown don't mean what he thinks.

“[L/N] [Y/N],” Seokjin takes a breath, his own eyes beginning to water at the words he's about to utter, “time of death: 2 am… I'm sorry Jungkook. I did everything, I-I tried every voltage and pumped her with liquids a-and everything I could d-do—I couldn't save her. I'm so—so sorry.”

It's like his entire world has crumbled in a second. His arms and chest are suddenly heavy, his lips, throat, and face feel dry and dehydrated, and his eyes can't decide if they want to be open or closed because of the stinging sensation they feel when he tries either. Sitting on the floor in front of your room, he takes the hand Jin outstretched and wobbles inside, only to fall back down the moment he sees your dull figure.

He doesn't care that a small crowd can see him babbling incoherently as he tries to apologize to you through his sniffles and whimper, crawling to your hand and lacing his fingers through yours.

Eventually, Taehyung and Jimin pick him up and drag him out of the building you took your last breath in. Jungkook didn't try to resist, knowing he was in no shape to put up a fight or drive himself home. He needed to get out of there anyway, the smell of death only he could detect suffocating him slowly.

On his way upstairs, Taehyung holds him back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a short stack of envelopes—maybe two or three—rubber-banded together and hands them to the younger. “Her first day in the ER, she m-made me promise to give you these if she—if she… You know…”

Hearing they were yours, he takes them gently and swiftly, immediately holding them close as if they were his lifeline. He gives Taehyung a silent, stiff nod before turning and dragging himself to his room.

He doesn't open them right away, taking his time to admire your adorable calligraphy and observing every smudge or erased pencil mark you'd left on their light material.

He's not surprised to find every letter addressed to him, because it wouldn't be the first time you two had given each other messages the old-fashioned way, and he smiled softly at the “before you read” attached to the first envelope.

If you're not Jeon Jungkook, please don't read these. If you are, know that I'm still with you, in these letters, in your heart, our memories and that I will always be here, even though I'm sorry I can't physically be here with you right now. These are letters I've written to you, but never sent. They're from the bottom of my heart and they say everything I've ever wanted to tell you.

—[Y/N]

His heart beats harder as he opens the first letter, doing his best not to tear the envelope and keep it perfectly intact for him to save.

There are two Polaroids safety-pinned to the letter, both with his face and yours smiling brightly at each other. He gently unclips them, tucking them safely into the [Y/N]-specially decorated sleeve. He breathes in deeply and unfolds the letter, immediately tearing up at your handwriting on the wilting paper.

Dear Jungkook,

I know you don't think it's cool or modern to send letters, so I won't send this.

Anyway, I want to thank you for always being there for me, my big, strong, human-shoulder-tissue. I couldn't be luckier than I am to have you as my best friend.

And I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I love you more than anyone or anything in this world. You're the diamond to my sky, the sun to my earth, and the person I would choose to spend the rest of my life with.

In other words, I'm in love with you, Jeon. I wish you were in love with me, but I'm already the happiest girl in the world being by your side every day.

Your Best Freind,

[Y/N]

His heart pounds against his ribs, because you had been in love with him. You had wanted him to be the last face you'd ever see. You were right in front of him, your heart on your sleeve for who knows how long, and he hadn't known until you were dead. His face contorted into one of pain at the reality, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears, taking long, shaky breaths before opening the second letter.

This note is considerably newer than the first, its edges still white and crisp, but the deepness of the creases tells him it's at least a few months old.

Dear Jungkookie,

Lately, I've been sick—which you know because I've told you. I haven't told you about my feelings yet because I don't want to scare you or pressure you, but I'm probably going to die before I ever get to tell you these things.

Since I told you how I felt in the last letter, I'm going to try and describe why in this letter. Reason number one, your presence. You always manage to just enter a dark, tense room and make it so much brighter and more comfortable. I don't know if it’s your smile or your laugh or the way you don't care if you're embarrassed or not, but you just manage to make everyone feel comfortable in themselves.

Reason number two, your kindness. I had never seen someone run back inside, get an entire table's worth of food, and give it away before. You're always so willing to give, despite the cost. I hope you never change.

Reason number three, it's kind of odd but I fell in love with your voice. Not just the way it sounds pretty when you sing, but the way it has the power to comfort whoever you’re singing to. I’ve always been able to come to you for support and comfort.

Reason number four is you know how to turn a bad day into a good one. You can talk to anyone who’s down for five minutes and you’ll turn them into a giggling, grinning mess.

Reason number five, you’ve always made me feel loved. Even though our entire relationship has been platonic—at least on your side—you’ve always checked up on me, held me, and made sure I knew I was enough and I can’t thank you enough for that.

Number six is your passion. You always put your all into everything you do. Be it making breakfast for the boys or helping me with a project I put off until the last minute, you make sure it’s all or nothing.

Seven is that you taught me how to love unconditionally. I always believed in falling in love and finding the one, but I never knew how intense it felt to be able to give your all to someone and not expect a single thing in return—until I met you. From the way your nose scrunches when you smile, to how you tilt your head when you’re confused, I love it all. From the best thing about you to the worst, it’s all you, and I wouldn’t want you to ever change. Every scar and blemish, each pore and lash, I’ve fallen in love with all of them because they make you, you.

I know you don’t feel the same, and in complete honesty, I love you so much I don’t even care. As long as you’re happy and I’m able to spend as much of my time by your side I’m happy.

He chokes on a sob when he finishes the second letter, tears dampening the card stock as he shivers. His heart clenches harder as he folds it back up, giving both pictures a once over before pinning them back on the letter.

Opening up the last envelope, a cry racks through his body, and he’s ugly crying now. The necklace he’d given you perfectly washi-taped against the letter. He pulls it off, tucking it tightly into his palm, and holds his breath. This time, the letter is a small, short piece of paper folded in half once.

He almost can’t read your small, dainty handwriting through his bubbling tears, but manages.

Hi Jungkook. Did you see the necklace?

It’s the one you bought me for my fifteenth birthday, that I told you I had lost. For a while, I had, and I remember I was too scared to tell you, but you noticed before I could anyway. I was so relieved you weren’t mad at me because I didn’t know what I would do if you were. I still don’t.

Anyway, the point of this short, last letter is to tell you how I want you to remember me. I don’t want you guys to think of me as your sickly friend who died when you were in your twenties… but I want you to remember the good memories we made together. I want you to remember the day we met, when I accidentally broke your bike and when we were both grounded for four months for sneaking out of our houses for our first party. I want you to remember how we got sick together because you couldn’t let me walk home alone in the rain, but you couldn’t drive and we both forgot jackets and umbrellas. I want you to remember the day you forgave me for losing the most precious thing anyone has ever given me, because that’s the day I fell in love with you.

This paper’s running out of space so I’m going to wrap this up. I want you to remember everything good about our time together, and not what ended it. Don’t think about how I’m gone, because I’m still with you, after death. These letters, the photos, and this necklace are what I’m leaving behind for you to keep. Don’t cry when you think of me, don’t think of the fact that we’ve been making our last memories, just don’t forget me.

Jungkook clutches the necklace tighter, afraid to drop it. Not only had he lost you, but he’d also missed out on the opportunity to be with you because he’d been too scared to ask you out while you were alive. He’d been in love with you since you two were eleven, tried to confess to you when you were fifteen, and lost you at twenty-three.

It’s not fair, he decides, it’s not fair that your love never got a real chance and it never would. It’s not fair that all these years you thought your feelings were one-sided when he reciprocated them ten-fold. It’s not fair that he was holding the last of you in his hands, unable to focus on anything other than the last words he’ll ever receive from you.

He sucks in a deep breath, barely croaking out your sign-off, “Love, [Y/N].”

Positive note | Navigation | Taglist

[anonymous-swiftie]

If you are on twitter, please retweet this:

https://twitter.com/ASwiftie00/status/1334245577933148164?s=19

Dear #Swifties,

I'm new on tumblr, and I really don't know how to use it.

I know you are the best supporters of the music industry and I'm here to ask your help.

I'm fighting with a crippling depression, that due this covid situation just got worse.

I'm at my lowest, I truly don't know if I will make it through this time.

I always dreamed to talk to Taylor, since I was a teenager. She is the only one that make me feel like I do fit in this world.

I've created this account because I know she is very active here, and I'm trying to reach her with this part of my story.

You can read everything below.

I didn't write any personal information because I don't want this to be seen by my family or somebody that can recognise me.

I don't want upset anyone.

I know that everyone hope to meet or chat with her, and so you are probably wondering why you have to share this here.

You're totally right, maybe it's a stupid idea to ask you this, but I haven't anything left in my pocket to fight this situation, and you're my only hope right now.

Thank you.

#taylor #swift

*******************************************

Dear Taylor,

I keep writing and deleting this, over and over again.

I feel so dumb to write my personal story here, but this truly is my last chance to feel better and try to overcome this giant monster called depression.

I genuinly don't know if I can make it through this year. It's the worst period of my entire life and i don't even know if it's worth living this hell anymore.

I know you have millions of supporters (that probably write you every single day, and they are all better fans than I am, that's for sure) but I know that you proved, time after time, to be so down to earth and to use your time to read your fans messages.. so, in this moment, I'm just trying to share a part of my story with you.

You are the one that make feel understood, since I was like 13teen.

I'm so sorry if my English isn't very good but I'll do my best.

I'm not very active on social media , because I'm very shy when I have to talk about myself.. but If this could work, I must do it.

I will try to send a letter, If I can find the strength to mark this feeling on paper.

**IF I'M WRITING TO SOMEBODY FROM HER STAFF, PLEASE JUST LET THIS MESSAGE REACH TAYLOR**

I'll try now to resume, because I don't want to bother you too much.

This has been a crazy year so far, and the all the time I spent by myself during the lockdown didn't help at all.

This situation brought me back to childhood.

I spent a lot of my days back and forth in hospitals, due to my allergies.

I had to wear a mask all the time I wanted to go outside to avoid severe allergic reaction (that's why this Covid thing awakened some hurting memories)

I didn't have real friends back then, 'cause I've spent most of the summers at home, watching other kids playing around, from my window, or from the windows of my classroom.

It was so hard to make new friends, because the only thing that other kids saw was my mask.

I was the masked kid.

I was the strange kid.

I couldn't play with them.

Everytime I tried to play with them, the only thing I heard was "oh you are ill , I don't wanna be like you so stay away".

This situation made me start to write things in my personal diary.

I wrote small sentences, as a kid, and that was the only thing I could do alone inside an empty classroom during all summer.

This situation continued  for many years.

I wasn't the cool kid before, I wasn't the cool guy after.

The only things that let me enjoy those days were writing and listening to your songs.

I started to listen to your music thanks to my English teacher. She was a fan of folk and country music and she gave me a pic in which you were singing near a lake (I still have that photo somewhere, I strongly remember the white banner with your name written in red on it) and told me to listen to the cd she gave me that day.

I immediately fell in love (I think I still have a crush on you, I'm sorry).

I loved your album. I loved your voice. I loved the lyrics.

I remember having a "test" in school: each one of the class had to write their favourite lyrics and let the others guess the song.

If the someone guessed It, We could play the cd.

I chose Love Story and I translated it in Italian.

The class guessed the song, and I played it.

After the lunch break I went back to my desk and I saw some bullies that were breaking my cd-album and they started to laugh at me because I loved your music an I loved writing poems.

I was a boy so I was a loser because I enjoyed those things.

That felt terrible, but I continued to love your songs even more .

Those were my inspiration to write and to study english.

I felt so good when I listened to your album and this still happens.

Then I went to a private high-school.

Nothing changed, I still was the nerd guy that always got good grades and I have to say that the first year was quite good, but the second year was the start of the apocalypse.

I choose that school because two girls that I knew from childhood went there.

One of the cool new guys started to spread a fake "news" about me.

He said to everyone that I was the boyfriend of one of the two girls that I mentioned before.

So he was the cool guy and one of the girls believed him and told me to f*** myself.

The other girl was her best friend, so you could imagine by what happened next.

After 14 year spent together, I was nobody.

I didn't have "friends" in that class anymore.

I didn't say hello to anybody for 4 years, and nobody would say anything to me.

Nobody to talked with me.

That's great when you're a teenager.

I hated to wake up every morning.

I had an eating disorder, I lost like 22pounds in less than a month. Got hospitalized twice. I kept vomiting for 3 years, every single morning before school.

During that time I only talked with one of my cousins, who lived like 2 hours by car from me.

He was older than me but he always tried to help.

He knew that I loved to write poems so he started to give me guitar lessons.

I made it through a lot of things thanks to him.

I'm sorry, It's hard for me to write this part of the story.

I still get emotional when I think about this.

On the 10TH of December 2013 (some days after his birthday) we received a phone call from his mother: She warned us that he didn't return home after the last working shift.

I wrote a message to him like 3 hours prior to that phone call.

Never had the opportunity to get a reply again.

This year is the seventh year that he is missing.

That destroyed me.

I felt empty.

I felt like nothing couldn't help me.

I still feel that everytime I care about someone in my life, it will disappear someday.

This have happened several other times.

You know when ignorants say that men don't cry, is real bullshit. Men cry. I cried a lot.

I wrote so many poems , lyrics, thoughts in that period of time, that I destroyed my hands.

That was the only way to close my eyes and let me reach another reality because the real one was way too much for me.

Be a sensible man in this world is somehow a curse.

All these things made me afraid  even to hug someone 'cause I feel I'm too ugly or just to scared to be refused.

I will stop here my story, but there's so much more to tell.

I make it through all of these things and memories because I keep dreaming that one day I could meet you and we could talk together.

Dreaming about the fact I could spend a day with you made me find the power to battle my depression.

I'm 25 now and this year I'm not dreaming anymore.

I was going to start again university, I wanted to get a degree in marketing and have the chance to live in the us.

For years I believed that I would make it and hopefully be part of your marketing team.

I'm so stupid. All these years I kept dreaming to avoid pain.

I wanted to pursue my passion and continue to write lyrics but all I was doing was putting myself in unrealistic realities.

This covid situation made everything clear.

When everyone had someone to facetime (or video call) I was alone.

When everyone had someone asking them "how are you?" I only had myself looking in the mirror saying: "Will I ever feel better?"

I've never been the one for anybody, and I think I'll never be.

I won't be the one among all your fans to realize his dream.

Nobody likes me, and I'm exposing myself once again just because I want the opportunity to smile at something that could happen to me.

I'm tired to smile only for others best moments.

I've always seen the sun through a window.

I want to feel happy.

I want to burn my face with the sun.

I'm so sick of hiding my pain,

sick to cry when I'm alone in my car before going to work,

sick to let my eyes rain on my pillow every night.

I'm sick to say to my mother that I'm fine, just because I don't want to make her feel bad.

It's not her fault.

She is battling with a degenerative autoimmune disease, why I should put other weight on her shoulders?

I didn't give up to my weakness before because I don't want to hurt her.

I always say to her that soon she will feel better, that's why your song It's stuck in my head.

But when she won't be here anymore, how I can go through all of that?

I don't even know if will ever get better for me.

Will this pain ever stop?

Sometimes it's so hard to live and so easy to die.

Hope that my dream to spend some time with you can become true.

Thank you for everything, you gave me the strength to go on for many years.. But this time is so hard to put on my armor and continue this battle.

But is this even worth if thy I try to surround myself with people and I always feel lonely?

D.

@taylorswift @taylornation @jackleopards-thedolphinclub

[anime-simper-xy-female-edition]

Masterlist

𝕀'𝕞 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣!

𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕥 🥀 (spoilers maybe)

𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

•

•

•

•

•

•

There it was. The worrying sound of another fight between the wind Hashira and, as he described her, the love of his life. The fight was over something so entirely simple, that others wondered why it happened?

To think, that such a kind, caring and gentle person could ever fall for the brash, always angry and violent Sanemi. It was always a mystery. It was always a question Y/n was asked. And she couldn't blame the one's who asked.

" WHY THE FUCK DID HE HUG YOU!?" Sanemi's voice was loud, filled to the brim with absolute anger and hidden jealousy as he glared at the H/C haired female who'd still be calm.

" I told you Sanemi the hug I gave Kyo was just that of a friend. We've know eachother since we were kids." Ah yes. The cause of this fight. A simple hug that she gave to her childhood friend is appearantly enough to make the wind Hashira angered.

" I saw everything! That wasn't just a normal hug! You have feelings for him don't you!?" He roughly grabbed Y/n's hand and held it up, gripping it tightly as he stared at her dead in the eyes. Y/n fliched at the sudden pain at her wrist and shook her head.

" No! You know I only love you Sanemi!" Her voice was starting to raise as the pain on her write increased with each word that left her mouth. Sanemi growled in annoyance.

" WELL THAT HUG SAID OTHERWISE! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE LIKE KANAE AND JUST STAY BY MY WIDE WITHOUT QUESTION!"

It seemed as though Y/n's world had snapped in two as soon as she heard the words leave his mouth. She quickly snatched her hand away and took step away from the male she vowed to love with her everything. " Why did you have to bring up Kanae? How many times do I have to say I'm not her!? Why do you keep comparing me to her!?" Her shoulders shook as she glared up at him. " I'm not Kanae! All this time when I thought you loved me for me you only saw me because I act like her isn't it!? All those times you've said you love me were just filthy lies weren't they?! I'm just another Kanae for you!"

Sanemi slightly shrunk back, not expecting that outburst, however out of anger he immediately replied back. " Yeah your right. I shouldn't compare you to someone like Kanae. Besides! Unlike Kanae I didn't hate her from the moment we met!"

There it was. The stinging sound of a slap filled the air. Sanemi's eyes widened as he turned to fight back only to stop when noticing the tears falling from her eyes. Her eyes were glued to the ground as he hand stayed in the same position from where her hand made contact with his face. He couldn't see her face expression, but he knew for a fact he went to far. Thinking that he can fix this like he usually does, he quickly ran to comfort the male only to have his body pushed away. " Don't touch me..." Her voice sounded so pitiful and shaky, it stabbed his heart after noticing that he was the one who caused this. He tried to reach out towards her again, only for his body to get in contact with the ground from outside. She glared through her tears. " Leave. Don't ever come back. Go back to Kanae." And she shut the door right in his face, locking it soon after.

Sanemi stayed still, his eyes staring straight at the door as he didn't know how to move. His breathing was uneven as he started to get us shakily. He used the door as a support as he tried to open it, only to sigh in absolute regret after realizing it was locked.

However what made him feel the most regret ever, was hearing her cries filled with pain being heavily muffled by the door. He rested his forehead against the door as he hit himself mentally.

'Why did I say that?'

That's his final thought as he walked away in absolute pain. Pain of the heart.

" What do you want." Sanemi jumped at the cold tone coming from Y/n. He tried to remain calm as he quickly held her arms, about to open his mouth to apologize only to have a katana pointed straight at his neck. " Don't bother. I don't wish to hear your pitiful lies ever again."

Sanemi gasped before quickly shaking his head. " Please! I'll change.... I'll change for you. Just please don't leave me..." His voice was barely above a whisper after the first sentence as his hands started to shake. Despite the sword directed right there with just a thrust it'll plunge into his throat killing him painfully, he only cared about her answer.

He was shocked when he was pushed aside from the female as she walked away. Sanemi smiled. 'She didn't refuse...so it must be that she's willing to give me a second chance!" Oh but that wasn't easy.

Oh no. Every single thing he did for her .Ade her want to cry at the find memories she has with him. However ber treatment to him never changed. She called him by his last name, requested that they don't interact much and many more.

She wanted to look like she hated him with every fiber of her her being...but if that's the case, why does she still feel the butterflies forming in her stomach when he cooks her her favorite meal? Why does she smile so fondly after seeing him asleep next to her bed on a chair? She didn't know that answer for those to questions at all. And she hated it. She hated herself for having such a terrible resolve. She hated that she couldn't hate him. She hated that she was still so hopelessly in love with the hashira who played with her hearts for years now.

But time passes by. The wind Hashira was holding onto name's arm as they get ready for battle. " I know that I haven't completely proven myself....but if we both live....please allow me to cherish every moment of time you have to spend with me. I just want you back..." He muttered the last part to himself watching the demon girl blink before sighing.

Why was her resolve so weak when it came to him? She just didn't understand. However she accepted. " You better come back alive then Sanemi."

Sanemi smiled happily, such a bright and loving smile as he got ready, ready to kick some demon king ass that it. Along with his subordinates. A piece of cake.

It was not a piece of cake. He stared into Name's dulling eyes as he felt a hand softly grab his cheeks rubbing it with her thumb. " I'm.... S-Sorry I-I.... couldn't k-ke-ep my promise." Sanemi felt his heart breaking. He felt so entirely sick.

" No no....Y/n please don't die! Don't leave me......" He held Y/n's body closely to his own as he felt her breathing start to shorten. She Chuckles bitterly.

" I'm sorry Sanemi... just know that with all my heart...I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being........ you're my e-ev-very-" before she could even finish her sentence, she coughed out blood. She tightly grilled Sanemi's clothes as the pain of being injured starting to take it's toll. As her eyes closed she could heard the constant begging and tear drops falling onto her face. Oh how heartbroken she felt, and watching him to be heartbroken as well, only caused her more pain.

" this is my fault..."

[mooniefics]

— gaps of sunlight

pairing : armin arlert / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : heavy angst, fluff (just for a moment lol), tragic romance, death, hurt / no comfort

warnings : detailed descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : every good thing must come to an end, you both knew that. but armin wished that it didn't have to happen like this every single time.

— originally posted 2 / 1 / 21 on ao3 —

armin had been absolutely glowing.

you couldn't get the image of his entranced expression when you saw the levi squad approaching from atop his horse, flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes framed by fair, blonde hair. he was shining in the light of the setting sun, barely pulling his steed to a stop before he was clambering off of it, dashing over to throw his arms around you. he was so warm, nearly squeezing all your breath out of you as he laughed, a sound full of wonder and delight, a cold, briny scent clinging to his skin and clothes.

"the ocean." he said breathlessly, burying his face into your shoulder, smiling into you, "we saw it. we saw the ocean."

but as the evening had wound down, your friend still seeming to be digesting such an experience as he stared off into nothing at the table during dinner, hands stuck in his pockets, fiddling with something for the entire meal. you'd saved your prying questions until you'd both showered and changed into your night clothes, now squeezed beside each other in the space of his bunk, narrow but just enough for the two of you to share.

"it was everything i always thought it would be!" he beamed, throwing his hands up towards the ceiling, turning his head in bed to look at you, "the water was actually salty, it stung my eyes and made my mouth so dry!!" even in the dim light, you could see the unrelenting gleam in his eyes. "it was so much colder and cleaner than the canal, blue and green as far as the eye could see—and it was frothy and white when it washed up on the shore, i wish i would've taken a bottle to bring some of it back!"

he was enchanting to gaze at, the luster of youth having finally returned after all this time it had eluded him. you'd remembered how he'd cried when he had lagged behind during cadet training, after his first few scouting missions, speaking about the untimely deaths of his family, the nights after he'd been chosen to receive the serum and acquire the power of the colossal. and every time you came to hold him, assure him that his pain was real and it was okay to cry, he would always try to tell you that he would be fine on his own, that everything would work itself out in the end without him having to bother anyone. but he never objected when you would gently hold him against you, whisper soft reassurances and let him silently sob, so young yet so full of such an endless turmoil. to see him wearing such an infectious look of glee was enough to make you smile back just as wide.

"i remember when you used to tell me about it when we were younger." you murmured, "all that feels like so long ago.. i'm glad that if any of us could make it to see the ocean, it was you."

you felt confused when you saw his face flush, smile faltering, looking almost sheepish, arms falling back to rest on his chest. "i'm sorry.. it feels unfair to gloat about it when you haven't even been able to see it for yourself."

there it was—the shy, selfless boy that was always there no matter how many battles or brushes with deaths you both saw. somehow, even after achieving his life-long dream, working so long and finally getting a taste of the joy that life should really bring, he was concerned about making you upset by expressing that happiness to you.

"armin, you're so silly." you giggled softly, reaching over to place your hand over his, "this is the one thing that you've always held onto, from the day that we first met in cadet training and all the way to now. seeing you happy could never make me upset. i'd listen to you talk about the ocean forever if it meant that you kept smiling."

his cheeks were a brilliant shade of red, heart beating fast in his chest, shining eyes large and full of gratitude. he reached into the pocket of his pajamas, leaving the hand under yours where it was, presenting you with a small leather pouch. "here, for you..!"

you took it, pulling the drawstring free, carefully tipping out its context into the palm of your hand. your eyes widened at the sight of something unfamiliar, a pale spiral dotted with rounded peaks, such a detailed creation of delicate beauty despite only being the length of your little finger, the hollow interior a smooth expanse of soft pink, light and fragile like glass.

"armin.. what is this..?"

"i don't know! they're all over the beach, hidden in the sand, but it's beautiful, isn't it??" that enthusiasm had returned, a familiar flutter dancing about in your chest, "i only took two, one for me and you, because i want there to be enough for everyone when we all go and see it together!"

you couldn't help your fascination, running your fingers over every ridge and twirl of the foreign token, cheeks nearly aching from the face-splitting beam that you had no way of containing. but you didn't know if it was this relic in your hand that was making you feel so happy, or the fact that he'd been thinking of you in his brightest moment, held you close enough to his heart that the sole memento he brought back from his trip was for you. you couldn't imagine feeling any other way, lying together, murmuring together, sharing such a rare moment of tranquility with the other now that there was a chance for your people to see past the walls that you had thought would confine you for the rest of your life.

"it's beautiful.." you carefully stowed it away into the small pouch, tucking it into your pocket until you thought of somewhere safe to keep it, turning back to face him, "thank you, armin. i love it."

i love you, you thought to yourself. and, staring into his eyes, returning your hand to clasp around his, you were sure that he was thinking it too.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

paradis' first victory had been secured late into the night.

you'd been welcomed in the airship by your fellow soldiers, tugged into hugs that were almost more unpleasant than comforting due to the clanks and jabs of your gear hitting theirs, shouts and cheers shared in the main cabin over the first step being taken to secure the future of eldia and the island, but all you could think of was armin. you had been shocked when he'd accepted the role of disabling the harbor, your head filled with the memories of his despondent expressions when he was pulled from the body of the colossal, face steaming and gaunt and so terribly miserable.

you remember how you'd felt your heart jerk into your throat at the blinding flash from across the crumbling city that your squad had turned into its battle ground, debris raining from the sky and a massive crater where the buildings that had previous stood were crushed under armin, the sole survivor of the explosion being the looming figure of sinew and flesh that towered over everything below it. it only took you seconds to realize that he was in the private room near the cockpit reserved for the superior officers and the orchestrators of the siege, resigning to impatiently waiting for the duration of the ride home to speak with him.

for the moment, you tried to join in on the celebrations for having survived the night, turning your attention at jean's demand for everyone to quiet down. but before you could respond with your question of why, there came the sound of something rolling across the wood floor, the deafening crack of a rifle being fired, then the heavy thud of something hitting the ground.

"sasha!" connie screamed, a barrage of bullets coming from beside you, and the sharp ping of metal ricocheting on metal.

there were footsteps around you as you fell back, a sudden, searing heat burning across your stomach, through your entire body, knees giving out and sending you tumbling onto your back. though the ceiling was just above you, it was almost an incomprehensible image, the sound of voices shouting your name distant and murky, like your head had been dunked underwater. you barely caught jean's face, twisted with agony, his hands jostling you as he pressed hard into your abdomen, pain flaring dully up your spine.

"that hurts, jean.." you coughed, something warm and metallic coating your tongue, speech slurring, "why are you screaming..? what was.. that sound..?"

you didn't understand the sudden wave of exhaustion that was suddenly blanketing you, heavy lids falling shut, only to feel yourself being shaken awake. "open your eyes, don't close your eyes!" jean shouted, voice ringing about in your head, far too close to be speaking to you so loudly.

"tired.. just let me rest... just for a minute.."

you tried to remember where you were, why you were so fatigued, why jean was apologizing so frantically and pushing so firmly down on your stomach. you tried to swallow down the liquid gathering in your throat, sputtering and coughing, watching droplets of red spatter across jean's pale, tear-stained complexion, arm unable to lift and wipe them away like you wanted to. you forced your gaze to steady, squinting up at the lantern above your head, trying to pick out a coherent sound between the shouting voices and pounding footsteps.

the sight of another person falling into view left you blinking, struggling to focus on their face with the halo of light that had been cast around their figure, the spotty darkness clouding the edges of your vision making it almost look like the rays of sun that would stream through the canopy of the forest where you trained with your gear in your cadet days.

"armin.." you whispered, smiling when you realized that he was there, not minding the full-body ache that you felt when he pulled you into his arms, "are you okay? why.. why are you crying? we—you know we won..? we did it..."

you wanted to take his face in your hands like you had so many times, wipe away the tears dripping down his cheeks and hold him against you, but every limb felt like it was weighted to the floor, the thought of even lifting a finger feeling like a monumental effort. but he didn't speak like he usually did, didn't tell you what was troubling him so you could choose the right words to make him feel better, just stared down at you with wide, terrified eyes, obscured by his bangs.

"your hair.. getting too long.."

it was hard to breathe now, the blood pooling thick in the back of your mouth, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head with every slow blink. you remember when his hair had gotten long enough to fall at his collarbones, how he'd come to you with scissors and a sheepish smile on one of your free days, asking if you'd help him cut his hair.

you'd always helped him cut his hair after that, even if he didn't ask, just sat him down whenever you saw that it'd grown long enough that you had to start brushing his bangs from his eyes or away from his forehead to press a soft kiss there. you wanted to be there—not here, staring up at him crying with nothing to do, but in the comfort of his tidy room, in his warm bed, talking back and forth into the early hours of the morning until you reluctantly left so you could get enough sleep in your own bed. why did you always leave? why didn't you ever allow yourself to stay?

you let your eyes fall shut, concentrating on that memory of home, the sound of his voice calling your name becoming more and more distant despite how his warmth felt so vivid, the fresh linen scent of his sheets and clothes, the sound of snipping scissors and the soft locks of his hair threading between your fingers, falling away from his shoulders and fluttering down at your feet.

when you crawled into his bed this time, you threw your arms around him, the covers settling around you, protecting you from the world just outside of his door. you were so tired tonight, but you didn't have to worry about keeping yourself awake to make it back to your room—you could just stay here, sleep peacefully and wake up with him to go to breakfast in the morning.

you really did love being close to him like this.

you really did love armin.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

armin didn't go to your funeral—he couldn't.

he'd gotten dressed that morning, showered despite how he'd never felt entirely clean after having your blood soak into his uniform and stain his skin, put on his nicest clothes, and yet he couldn't bring himself to leave his room—not when he knew the service would be starting soon, not when someone came knocking at his door to let him know that everyone was leaving then, not even as he watched his friends begin the walk away from the scout dormitories from his window.

every time he closed his eyes he saw your face, low-lidded eyes, lips and teeth stained red, dying yet only concerned with asking about him. he couldn't sleep without reliving that night, or dreaming of all the moments you'd shared together. he was so angry, so upset that he hadn't been able to manage even a single word to you before you were gone forever, didn't beg for you to hold out until you got home and you could get proper care on a medical tent on the ground, couldn't have even told you he loved you one last time. it was unfair, that you had always been there to comfort him for years and yet he couldn't offer anything in return for all that time you'd wasted on him. he couldn't understand why he hadn't been able to speak, why he still hadn't let you go after you became limp and heavy in his arms and stopped wheezing in weak, strained breaths, why he couldn't even honor you by commemorating your memory at your funeral. he had never changed, he had always been a coward. maybe that was just who he was meant to be.

and despite such a deep, ceaseless shame that weighed like lead deep in the pit of his stomach, that murmuring voice in his head that told him over and over that it should've been him instead of all his fallen comrades, instead of erwin, instead of you, he still numbly trudged away from the window and out of his room. he didn't know where exactly his feet were taking him until he was turning open the knob on a door, taking in the sight of your quarters.

he felt his eyes sting, warm tears spilling down his face as he stepped out of his shoes, letting out a small sob as he crawled into your unmade bed, still waiting just as you left it for your return home. he buried his face into your pillows, wrapped himself in your blankets and shuddered despite the warmth enveloping him. he could still smell you on the fabric, forcing his eyes shut and trying to remember what it was like to feel your weight on the mattress beside him, hands reaching out even though he knew there was no one beside him to pull close.

he couldn't believe it had only been a few days without you, it had felt like almost like an eternity. he didn't realize just how much he looked forward to your presence during the day, waited for your soft knocks at his door to let him know that you were ready for breakfast, or how your laughter and words filled the air at mealtimes and kept him company in the night when you would whisper together in his bed. though the curtains had been drawn shut, there were still small gaps of sunlight streaming through the sliver between the drapes, illuminating your bedside table, letting him see the gift that he'd gotten you all those years ago, unaffected by time despite its fragility.

and he could only cry harder as he took the small thing into his hands, carefully clutching it to his chest, remembering how delighted you'd looked when he gave it to you, gazing at him with such gratitude and wonder. he would've given anything to go back to that time, where the most pertinent matter on his mind was whether they'd one day be able to make it across the sea and not mourning the deaths of two of the few friends he had left after all this senseless violence.

he wept until he had no more tears left to cry, shivering and pathetic as he laid there, whispering apologies that you'd never hear, trying to memorize the lingering scent that always comforted him when you held him close, letting himself fall asleep in your bed in the hopes that he could find a shred of deliverance in a dream where you were alive and smiling, even if only for that moment in his mind.

[venushasvixens]

Ch. 6 Confliction - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

[A/N] I really want to give a huge, huge thank you to @tebdundy on tumblr for editing and dealing with my constant check ups and stuff, you are so amazing for helping me. It means a whole lot. You can find more of me on instragram, wattpad, and AO3 (under the same username). Okay, onto the chapter!

WARNING: a lot of angst, rejection

Your ship was on fire. Every belonging, every single thing you had worked so hard for was gone. Your guns, clothes, even appliances you had never given a second thought, gone. And it hit you like a shot. The moment you took in that your ship was on fire, you shut down. Your mind began to wander. What did I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?

The next thing you could remember was Spike shaking your shoulders to snap you back to reality. You struggled to form a response. You tried to open your mouth, give some indication that you could feel and see him. In reality, the only thing you could really feel was a dull ache in your spine, each vertebrae mounting with an odd, uncomfortable pain.

The shock was setting in.

You blinked, eyes glassy as you watched firefighters put your ship out of her misery. There was no noise. You couldn't feel your fingertips, your face. You couldn't feel anything. Just that dull ache creeping up your spine.

Thoughts spiraled through your aching head, moving so quickly you could hardly keep up. It felt like you were at war with yourself, trying to keep yourself conscious and cognizant of the situation, while you sank deeper and deeper into your head.

This is just a small hiccup.

Just an obstacle that needed to be conquered, a hurdle you needed to jump over.

This is all your fault, you’ll never bounce back.

Everything happens for a reason, right?

Maybe if you hadn’t been so stupid.

You always ruin everything for yourself.

You might as well give up now.

There’s no coming back from this one.

You’re a disappointment.

You’ve failed.

It ate you up like a starving monster devouring a poor soul who crossed its path. Dark tendrils of shame, anger, and sadness weaved into your head, wrapping around your mind and tightening with every passing second. You were going to drown.

Push it down. Push it down. Grieve later. Think now. Grieve later. Think now.

You needed to figure out what you were going to do next. You needed to get out of your head. You desperately tried to claw your way out of this state. Taking a deep breath, you tried to make sense of the chaos around you.

You were sitting on the ground, a blanket draped over your shoulders. You felt the cold stone of the dock under your legs, felt the itchiness of the thick wool wrapped around you. You watched as Jet ran over to Spike, shouting over the sounds of panic that had flooded your head just moments before. Spike was staring at you, his face riddled with concern. You heard him call your name. You didn’t respond.

It was usually so hard to read him, to figure out what he was feeling. But now, it was so incredibly clear. You saw the emotions flashing in his eyes as he called for you again. Loss, guilt, despair, mania, heartbreak.

You felt Jet’s strong hand on your shoulder, shaking it gently.

"Hey kid, you okay?" He said, his brows furrowed.

You swallowed. Do not cry. Do not cry. Wait until you're alone. Push it down.

"I think...I think— a glass of water."

-

"How much do you have?"

"About 200,000 woolong."

"Well, that ain't much."

"Well, I wasn’t expecting to lose everything I own."

You sipped your coffee slowly as you, Spike and Jet discussed a solution to your giant, unavoidable problem. No matter how much you told them that you were okay and could take care of yourself, they insisted on helping you. Deep down, you appreciated it, because you definitely weren’t okay and wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself.

You picked at the eggs on your plate, imagining sleeping in your own bed right now. Wearing your favorite shirt. Eating breakfast in your small kitchen. Watching the morning news in your room. Maybe have someone with you, showing him everything you owned like an excited child because you were so proud of how far you came from your first bounty to now. Things you’ll never be able to do again.

You felt silly and materialistic, mourning the loss of your belongings. But when you worked so hard for something you wanted for so long, building it up over the years, and losing it all in seconds? It's very hard to not mourn.

You had tried to pack light, to not become attached to material possessions. That was one of the first things that you were told by other bounty hunters. When you had first considered entering this god-forsaken profession, you sought out the help of any bounty hunter you came across, trying to glean any useful knowledge from those more experienced than you. You got too comfortable and started to ignore that piece of advice, and now you’re crying over some clothes and dishes.

But your keepsakes, your souvenirs. Ties to your troubled past. Memories of old friends, places, and happy times. Gone, burnt to a crisp.

"How much is a night stay here in town?" You spoke up, interrupting Spike and Jet’s bickering.

"You don't even want to know. The further you go into the city, the worse the rates are. I looked at a couple of places, and it does not look good." Jet replied, taking a sip from his mug.

"And staying on the streets isn't too good either," Spike muttered.

"Wasn't planning on it, but thanks for the advice." You snapped back.

The tension was thick in the air between you and Spike. Maybe it was because of your interrupted intimacy from the previous night, or the fact that neither of you had slept for the past 24 hours. But you couldn't understand why he was taking his frustration out on you. You hadn’t planned for your ship to burn to ash. You didn’t want to be a burden.

"I have a suggestion. Well, more of a proposal." Jet said.

You perked up. "And what's that?" Even before Jet could say anything, you already felt guilty about it.

"You can stay with us on the Bebop until you find your feet again."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do what now?!" Spike hissed softly.

"But, "Jet held up his hand to Spike, who sighed loudly, annoyed. "I have a few conditions."

It kind of pissed you off how Spike was reacting to all of this. Actually, kind of was an understatement. It really pissed you off, almost offended you on how he was acting. Just a few hours ago, he was desperate to get into your pants, and now he was throwing a hissy fit at the thought of you living on the Bebop. Isn't this a good thing, you being able to spend more time together?

"Just contribute to the Bebop. Whenever you cash in a bounty, set some aside for fuel, food, all that good jazz. Maybe cook dinner sometimes, or clean the bathroom. Other than that, don’t worry about it." Jet said.

A cloud of suspicion settled across your thoughts.

"That's it?" You asked, “Are you sure?”

Jet chuckled. “There’re other rules, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I have a feeling you know how to respect other people’s spaces and belongings. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You glanced at Spike, who was leaning back, staring out the window. He met your gaze, eyes unreadable once again. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He felt like an entirely new person, one who just wanted you to piss off and leave him to his business. You tried to shrug off his sudden coldness, but it bothered you. It stung.

-

The walk back to the Bebop wasn't too bad, but trying to initiate a conversation with Spike was difficult. All he did was grunt in response, a few "oh yeah”s and “huh”s thrown in for good measure. You hoped it was because he was tired, and not that he was pissed off that you were going to be invading his space.

The guilt was heavy on your shoulders. You certainly weren’t a freeloader, but you couldn't help but feel like you had already overstayed your welcome. And you haven’t even stepped foot on the ship yet. You didn't want Spike to be distant from you. Even though you had just met him, you wanted him to be closer to you than anyone else. You wanted to reach out to him, hold onto him and never let him go. Instead, he was pushing you away.

You weren’t good with rejection. Rejection defined who you were today and had been a driving factor to almost everything in your life. You had managed to take ahold of those haunting feelings and build them into a hard shell to protect yourself, vowing to never show your vulnerability or true feelings. You had pushed the old version of you so deep down that it would never escape. You had been doing so well, but the last few days had shown you that the hard work you put into being a completely emotionless bitch was all for nothing.

Jet was going into an extensive explanation of the ship, where you could take a shower, where your room was. He explained that the Bebop was once a fishing ship from Ganymede, and how he had fixed it up to be a high-tech, fully functional ship of today (his words, not yours).

"She operates well when treated right. However, some of our crew members would say otherwise." Jet grumbled. "Speaking of, did Faye tell you-"

"I haven't seen Faye since two days ago. Her ship was still gone, the last I saw." Spike muttered, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. "Besides, why do you care?"

Jet held up his hands. "It was just a question. Jeez." Spike muttered something in response.

You suddenly remembered the bounty on Faye’s head, but it didn’t really matter right now. That was all on the back burner for now, seeing as every plan you could think of required a ship that wasn’t the one Faye was living on. And you really didn't want to make enemies of your new crew this early on. All you cared about right now was taking a shower to wash all of last night's events off you and getting some shut-eye.

You wondered whether Jet was aware of your previous intentions of collecting the big bounty on Faye. You had asked him if Faye was joining the group for dinner last night, with no context. There was no answer, but that also could mean he took in what you said and was processing what you really intended to do if Faye did show up at the dinner. Remembering your first meeting with Spike, he told you clearly he doesn't care if she got captured or not. So you have two people who are on opposite ends of the discussion. One is in charge of the Bebop and which bounties to pursue, and the other one likes to smoke and philosophize.

The obvious correct choice was clear, but you decide to choose the latter.

"When you come in, don't be too surprised by some of our unique characters." Jet remarked. "You've already met us two, but there are a few more along the way."

"I like to think I'm also a unique character, so we should get along." You replied happily, a tint of exhaustion underlying in your words. Spike scoffed, walking over to open the small hatch.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You snapped, a full night's worth of frustration threatening to overflow in the form of obscenities and insults.

"Are you talking to me?" Spike said over his shoulder, punching in the security numbers on the small pad. The hatch to the side of the Bebop creaked open, landing on the stone pier with a hard thunk. "I’m tired. And when I’m tired, I don’t put my energy into pulling punches and being nice.Got it, (Y/N)?"

You bit down on your tongue. "Never mind. What were you saying, Jet?"

You could hear a quiet, "Yeah that's what I thought." echoing up into the Bebop. Rolling it off your shoulders, you turned your focus to Jet as you both walked into the ship.

Opening a round metal door, you looked up to see a dimming bulb illuminating the cylinder passage. The walls were yellowing, patched with dark, aging metal, and littered with hazard signs. Jet walked over to a ladder bolted on the wall and began to climb.

"I'll tell you, you’ll get a real workout just getting around this ship." Jet laughed, his voice bouncing off the walls.

"Are there a lot of these around the ship?" You said, following.

"Oh yeah, plenty. But if you stay in the living area, you don’t really need to worry about them. I'll show you around anyway, just in case we need you to get something. We wouldn’t want you to get lost." Jet smiled.

He hopped into the center gravity passage, holding out his hand to you. You grabbed it gratefully, not realizing how much of a drop it was to the floor of the tube until you looked back down.

"Oh damn." You exclaimed, looking down. "That's pretty far."

"It’s just 15 feet. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you." Jet chuckled, closing the metal door. "Alright, so this is the lower gravity passage. It leads to the living area, that includes bedrooms, kitchen and living room, and to the storage area."

Spike was nowhere to be seen in the passage. You assumed he was already in the living room, smoking before heading off to bed. Jet opened a sliding metal door marked “Storage”. You peered into the dark room.

"This is where we keep extra ammunition, supplies, and medical boxes.”

Jet pressed a button next to the storage door, one that opened to the living area. The walls were a gradient blue color, illuminated with warm lighting. The staircase was a dark, metallic gold leading to a dark blue platform. On the floor was a yellow couch, and across from it was a single matching seat. In between them sat a knee-level coffee table with a holoTV, a computer, and someone's breakfast. Jet walked in first, stepping down. "This is the living room.” He pointed to the set on top of the table. “You’re welcome to use the holoTV and the computer, everybody shares them.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure whose breakfast that is, but don’t touch it. People are pretty possessive of food on this ship.”

Right as you took a step in, you heard the light pattering of paws bouncing into the living room. From a staircase leading down, two small light brown ears popped up. Then two big brown eyes peered over, searching for the source of commotion in the room.

"You guys have a dog?!" You asked, practically jumping down the stairs. The small Welsh corgi was seemingly just as excited as you were, running and tripping up the stairs to meet you. You extended your hand, letting him sniff you.

Jet chuckled. "Cute little thing, isn't he? His name is Ein."

"Oh, he's adorable. Who’s a good boy?" You cooed, bending down to rub Ein's ears. He stretched his head out, his little stumpy tail going a hundred miles a minute.

"And usually tagging along with Ein is-" Jet was interrupted by the pounding footsteps coming from downstairs.

"They're back, they're back, they're back!" a scrawny red-headed kid rejoiced, waving their arms about. "Ed was worried, but now Jet’s back, and Ed is okay again!"

The kid's smile stretched from ear to ear, clearly more than ecstatic to see Jet back home. They grabbed the plate from on top of the table and plopped down next to a box with a computer on top. They gobbled up what was left of their food, before bending their head back to get a look at you. "Who are you?"

"This is (Y/N), they're going to be staying on the Bebop for a little bit." Jet replied, walking over to the table. He turned back to you. "Ed is a computer genius and a damn good hacker. You ever need someone to work out some malicious malware, Ed’s your girl."

“Hi, it's nice to meet you." You said, giving Ed a small smile and a wave. She scampered over to you on all fours with her behind high in the air, chattering to herself.

“Stranger, changer, danger! Hihi...”

You laughed nervously, glancing back at Jet, who was standing with his arms crossed, looking amused. The girl stopped at your feet. “Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth,” she said matter of factly. Ed grabbed your hand and sniffed. You had met some oddballs in your time, but this one took the cake. She made a face and jumped back, her hands covering her nose and mouth. "Ed thinks you stink!"

You sucked in air between your teeth. Did you really smell that bad, or was it another talent of this child prodigy? That’s so embarrassing. "Is it that noticeable?"

Jet half-smiled. "Doesn't bother me none. Thought I wouldn’t mention it till you could do somethin about it."

He was just going to let you find out later? No wonder Spike didn't want to be anywhere near you. It wasn’t even your first day of being on the Bebop, and you were not making a great first impression.

"Let me show you the kitchen." Jet motioned for you to follow up a small set of stairs through a large circular door frame leading down a small hallway. You turned into the kitchen, completed with a fridge, stove, oven, and a small countertop. The kitchen was dark, the only light in the room was the dimming orange ashes of Spike's cigarette falling on the floor. He was leaning against the countertop, staring down at his cig.

"There you are, Spike." Jet flipped the lights on, revealing a slightly disorderly kitchen. Spike winced, covering his eyes.

"Jesus, Jet give me a warning next time," Spike mumbled, his voice deep and raspy. Your annoyance and anger at him suddenly disappeared. That voice. You wanted to hear that voice again. You wanted to put your hand on his chest and feel the vibrations of that voice. Every time you tried to find some way to be mad at him again, he just had to stand there, looking cool and intoxicatingly seductive. You craved him like an alcoholic craved whiskey.

"Are you finished with the grand tour?" Spike asked, his heavy-lidded eyes looking away from you and Jet.

"Not yet, but I was hoping you could finish it."

"I’m not in the mood for hospitality right now. I'm going to bed." Spike said, making his way to the door.

"Just show her on the way there. And be nice, she's our guest." Jet warned, sorting the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

"Yeah, show me some respect." You teased. But Spike clearly was not in the mood. Instead, he turned away from you, rolling his eyes, and walked out of the kitchen

Jet patted you on the back. "Give him a minute, he'll come around."

"Thank you for everything, Jet. It means a lot." You smiled.

"Don't sweat it, kid. Go ahead and get some rest. If anything comes up, I'll send the cavalry after you." He said, gesturing to the living room.

You took a deep breath before heading out of the kitchen. Ed was sitting motionless in a trance-like state, her eyes engulfed with giant goggles. Ein lay peacefully on the couch, watching as you followed Spike down the steps into the living room.

This was the first time you and Spike had been alone since last night. Just hours ago, you were definitely not afraid to touch him. Now, you didn't even want to take a step near him.

"Are you coming or what?" Spike called out impatiently, already halfway downstairs to the lower part of the living area. "I don't have all day."

"I'm here." You raced over, gliding your hand down the rail. Spike continued his way down, turning around a corner. The walk down the hallway was quiet, the silence uncomfortable. Neither of you wanted to do small talk. Spike probably didn’t want to talk at all, but you had to know. You had to ask him.

"Spike?” you asked quietly. You wrung your fingers around each other anxiously. Spike stayed silent, his quick pace faltering before coming to a stop in front of a door.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” You finally asked. Spike seemed to tense up, his jaw clenching. Deciding to press on further, you continued.

“I umm,” you mumbled, “I may have been drunk and you probably were too, but why are you so cold to me now when we were literally about f-“

“This is the bathroom. It has a tub and a shower.” Spike interrupted. Your heart dropped to your stomach. So much for answers. “There should be some clean towels. You can wash your clothes upstairs, Jet can show you where the washer is. Your room’s gonna be the first door you see when you reach the top of the stairs. It’ll be all yours till you leave.”

Spike puffed out a cloud of smoke before making his way slowly down the hallway. You looked at him in disbelief. He definitely remembers. And he’s rejecting it. You and him. Cutting it off before it starts, pushing you away.

You stepped into the bathroom, letting the door shut behind you before tears of anger and resentment started to fall down your face. How can you feel so much emotion for someone who shows none? You lost your home and belongings. You didn’t want to lose anything else.

-

After a long hot shower, you stood in front of the mirror, combing your fingers through your hair. You were going to have to get essentials eventually, a comb and a toothbrush would be nice. But that would have to wait. You rubbed circles on your temple, your impending exhaustion headache approaching fast.

After drying yourself off, you slipped your old clothes back on. It felt awful putting dirty clothes on your clean body, but you were not about to walk around the ship in a towel. You had already dug yourself a deep enough hole with Spike, you didn’t want to traumatize Jet, the kid, or the dog.

As you wrapped your hair in a towel, you heard shouting from outside. You combed through who it could be. Spike and Jet. Or Jet and Ed. Or Spike and Ein, or Ein and Ed. There were quite a few combinations.

“First fight on the Bebop.” You muttered to yourself. “So excited.”

This was so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. All you had to do was walk past and not get involved. Unless it was about you, then you would at least try to defend yourself. You opened the door, listening intently.

“What the fuck-“ more shouting. “And you bastards decide to tell me now?!” A shrill female voice was yelling. A table got knocked over. You could hear stomping and more shouting. “Well, where the hell are they?!”

Whoop, time to hide.

You shut the door and the latch clicked with a loud cathunk. You hoped they hadn’t heard it. You were down a big hallway, there was no way that they could’ve heard it. You had a pretty good idea of who the screaming was coming from, and you were not ready to meet her right now.

The sounds of stomping grew louder, getting closer to the bathroom door. Your fight-or-flight mode started to set in. With how pissed she sounded, stomping and roaring, this may as well be a life-or-death situation.

You rolled your neck, stretching your arms out. If you needed to defend yourself, you were going to have to do it bare-knuckled. No guns, knives, bars of soap, nothing. You flexed your hands, cracking your knuckles. You planted yourself in front of the door. The footsteps outside stopped. This was it! You were ready for anything.

Bam!

The door slid open. Faye Valentine stood on the other side, hands on her hips. She was panting from her ranting and raving in the other room. She smiled, her eyes a little too wide. You couldn’t tell if she was happy, crazy, or surprised.

“Hi there, you must be our newest crew member! My name is Faye, it’s so nice to meet you, girly!” She beamed, her eyes manic.

Not the response you were expecting. “It’s nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” You held out your hand. She took it, her soft palms gripping your hand a little bit too tight. She shook your hand. She kept shaking. And shaking. You pulled back, trying your best to put on a friendly face.

“Sorry if I’m hogging the bathroom, there was an accident last night and I was so dirty, I just had to have a shower.” You smiled, stepping to the side.

“Oh no! You’re totally fine. I was just looking for the toilet, I guess I got lost.” She replied, waving her hand.

“The toilet’s just across the hall from your room, how long have you been here-“ Jet was cut off by Faye’s elbow jabbing him in the ribs. Jet grabbed his side in pain, giving you a half-smile.

“Well, I’d love to chat, but I’m really tired. I’m going to go get some sleep.” You smiled apologetically and gestured to the stairs.

Jet and Faye’s voices mingled with each other, overlapping into a confusing symphony of hospitality and kindness.

“Yeah, no worries!”

“Call us if you need anything!”

“We’ll be right here!”

Smiling, you gave a small wave, turned around, and basically sprinted down the hallway to the living room. You heard Faye hiss, “You didn’t tell me she was a girl, dumbass.”

“I was going to before you blew up at me. If you had let me finish, I would’ve. Why are you so pissed off about another crew member, anyway?”

“I’m tired of all the men on this ship, I didn’t want another one. And I thought they were going to take my room...”

Their bickering trailed off as you climbed up the two sets of stairs to your new room. Ed was still on the floor with her goggles on, humming to herself, seemingly oblivious to the fight that had just happened. Ein cautiously sniffed the overturned table, before settling onto the floor next to Ed, resting his head on her lap. You would’ve said goodnight, but they seemed to be in their own little world and you were happy to let them stay like that.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you saw two doors directly across from each other, one on each side of the landing. Spike had said it was “the first door you’d see”, but that wasn’t particularly helpful in this situation. Hoping you were correct, you quietly walked over to the door to your left, pressing the button to open it.

Your breath hitched as the door opened to see Spike fast asleep in his bed. He snored lightly, sleeping so deeply he didn’t hear the hiss and clink of the door opening. His arms were behind his head and the steady rise and fall of his bare chest was hypnotic. Even asleep he was really, really attractive. You fumbled over yourself trying to shut the door. It finally latched, and you let out a breath.

Sighing, you turned towards the door behind you. This one had to be it. You opened it to see a small, sparse room. Closing the door behind you, you flipped on the light. Pushed up against the far wall was a simple bed, and to your right was a small desk built into the wall with an old armchair next to it. There was a closet in the far corner, but the door was locked and some large boxes were stacked in front of it. They must not get many guests, it seemed like this room was mainly used for storage.

Feeling the ache of exhaustion overtaking your body, you flopped onto the bed. It was surprisingly soft, with a pillow and tan comforter neatly folded on top. You didn’t know how to thank Jet for being so kind and accommodating. Next time you cashed in a big bounty, you were going to set aside some woolongs to buy him a thank you gift.

On top of the pillow, you noticed a pair of black shorts and a yellow button-up. Pinned to the shirt was a note, clearly written in a hurry.

Some clean clothes. You smell like shit.

-S

You laughed. He’s straight-talking, that’s for sure. You slipped on the shorts and buttoned the shirt halfway up. Spreading out the comforter, you crawled underneath. You were already half-asleep, and thinking about how breathtakingly attractive Spike looked asleep relaxed you even more. Your mental snapshot of your accidental encounter was glued to your eyelids. It was never going to happen again, but you got to have one taste of beauty while here.

You gently wrapped your arms around your pillow, thoughts of Spike disappearing into clouds of empty dreams. It was so much better to fall asleep to thinking of someone, rather than no one at all.

And even though it was going to hurt, you would do it again and again.

-

[A/N] all I got to say is fasten your seatbelts for the next chapter, slut puppies.

[frownyalfred]

Ok this is a lot, and it takes a second for it to be about Batman, but bare with me

So spoilers for Nier:Automata, but I learned last night that apparently the mission that two of the main characters, 2B and 9S, are on in that game is a lie. 2B needs 9S's help to do it, but if he finds out what they're really doing he'll refuse, so she eternally kills him once he finds out, wipes his memory, and resurrects him. But apparently he knows this is happening?

And I had a dream about this, about 9S just being drained and completely heartbroken from his closest friend doing this to him over and over but never being able to stop it or talk about it. And I woke up with a feeling of terrible loss, and an image of 9S lying on the ground, half-dead, in a dusty, dry, barren place, looking at a single small plant, and the words "humans are the most compassionate of creatures, and the most empathetic of animals", and feeling like this sentence just carried so much pain

Now dreams are weird though, so there was one extra detail: while I knew, as the viewer of the dream, that it was 9S from Nier:Automata lying there, he was ALSO Robin

And I woke up thinking about "the most empathetic of animals.... but what about plants?"

And now I'm thinking of a world where one of the Robins (I'm thinking Time Drake, but I don't know Robin lore super well, so maybe a different one would work better) just loses too much, is hurt too many times, and after losing a fight doesn't return to the Batcave, but instead tracks down Poison Ivy.

There's a knock at the door in the middle of the night, and Harley gets up to answer. She finds a bruised and battered Robin, costume torn, bloody, and rank, who asks if Ivy is there. Normally Harley would be very concerned by a Robin knowing where Ivy lives, but this feels different.

Ivy wakes up to Harley gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, Red, someone's here to see ya."

"...What?"

When she walks into the living room to see a Robin, she is immediately startled out of her grogginess. But it only takes a moment for her to see the same thing Harley saw.

"What are you doing, Robin," she asks gently. She once thought compassion for people was entirely gone, but she knows now that there are exceptions. And somehow, as she takes in the tattered costume, the unseeing eyes, full of loss, that are visible through his broken mask, this broken young man has become one. But she's learned better than to trust her heart that easily.

"Why are you here?"

He doesn't answer for a time, but when he does, Ivy and Harley are both shaken.

"You were right."

They both stare at him for a long moment. Ivy knows the look in his eyes, knows the defeated, broken depths behind those words, but Harley asks, "Right about what?"

"People, Harley. She was right about people. I see it now. Plants have done nothing wrong, and neither have wild animals. Nature is innocent but mankind is broken. They're full of greed and betrayal and spite. All these things and more."

It doesn't take long for Harley and Ivy to decide he's being genuine, and to take him in. Harley's been more of an anti-hero than a villain lately anyway, and they haven't let that come between them, so why would a broken Robin?

Obviously, they're careful around him for a long time. At first, their goal is to give him a safe space for a bit before convincing him to go back to Batman, that that's where he belongs. But eventually, he earns their trust, and they see that they were wrong. Whatever it was he's lost, it changed him. He doesn't belong with Batman anymore.

Tim is truly on board with Ivy's world view, and there are very few people who can commiserate with Harley about the Joker as well as Tim Drake can.

The Batfamily does learn where Tim has gone eventually, but by the time they find him, he's not lost anymore. He's found a new purpose, a new home, with Harley and Ivy. He still considers Bruce, the other Robins, Barbara, Alfred, all of them to be family. But things are different now.

Eventually, they become a throuple, with Tim and Ivy being besties and Harley dating both of them.

(I don't know Batman characters super well, so if this is like wildly out of character for anyone involved then my bad, but I just thought this was a really cool idea)

Well this was a bit of a rollercoaster. Cool idea babe! But are you okay?

[smileyoongle]

Come Back Home (A Kim Taehyung Mafia AU) // Part Three

Too much angst going on.... let's give you guys a little hope, shall we?

Summary: You were dead. Or at least that's what Kim Taehyung thought. But love never dies. A myth, yes. And maybe that's why when he finds out that you are alive, he may have already lost you.

Pairing: Mafia!Taehyung×Reader

"Where is she?!"

A female voice sounded through Taehyung's house, making him turn his head towards the source.

Yoona.

"We need you to sit first." Jin said, standing in front of her and preventing her from walking further into the house. She glared at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"You really think I'm gonna listen to any-"

"He. Said. Sit. Down." Taehyung clenched his jaw, glaring at her with much more intensity. His voice made her shiver as she hesitantly sat on the black couch in the huge living room. Taehyung smirked, enjoying the way she lost all her confidence in a minute.

With threatening steps, he himself sat in front of her, keeping his eyes fixed on her cowering figure. Yoona couldn't help but curse. She should have just brought her entire gang for back up. Just in case, Taehyung decided to kill her. But she was here for you. She was here for her best friend who she had lost months ago. If she needed to die for you, she would.

"I'm sure you already know that we found her." Yoongi said, leaning on the arm of one of the couches, his arms crossed across his chest. Yoona could sense the coldness that every single person in the room emitted. Nobody wanted her there.

"I hope you painfully killed that bastard." She said, feeling her blood boil on even thinking about Castillo. He deserved to burn in hell. Taehyung nodded with a smug look on his face. That expression was enough for Yoona to know that Castillo got the worst death possible.

"Now, the main reason why you're here." Hoseok said, glancing at Taehyung.

Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes, preparing himself for what he was about to say. He knew that Yoona was gonna enjoy this. She just wanted a reason to take you far from him.

"Castillo did too much damage. She….." he trailed off, feeling his chest tightening. He wished this wasn't true. He wished this was just a dream and he would wake up with you by his side.

Yoona leaned forward, raising her eyebrows as a sign for Taehyung to complete his sentence.

"...she lost her memories."

Yoona's breath hitched, her body shutting down as if someone had taken away her soul. The things that you must have gone through in order to lose your memories…..

She clenched her fists and stared at the floor, her eyes itching as tears formed in them. Suddenly, she was standing on her feet and rushing towards Taehyung. She gritted her teeth as she grabbed his collar and pulled him to stand up. Jungkook and Jin were already running to get her off him but Taehyung lifted his hand up to stop them.

He deserved this for letting you get hurt. He deserved much worse but this was pretty close. Letting a rival gang leader lift a hand on him? Pretty bad for him.

"It's all your fault!" Yoona screamed and slapped him. Not once. But twice. She grabbed his collar and shook him, screaming at him about how he didn't deserve you.

"You haven't loved anyone but yourself. You are selfish and heartless. I shouldn't have let her go with you. You don't love her. You never did!"

Taehyung's eyes shot up to her face as he gripped her hands tightly. That was the last straw. With anger lacing his eyes, he pushed her away, towering over her as she fell on the couch.

"Wrong. I haven't loved anyone as much as I love her. I always have and I always will. You don't get to come to my house and say shit to my face." He spat, glaring at her. His hands itched to choke her but he couldn't. He still needed her for you.

You stared at the scene unfolding in front of you, tears pricking your eyes. You already felt light headed and all this screaming was making it worse. You heard every single word since your best friend slapped the man who brought you to his house.

The one who wanted to hurt you.

You had also heard him. It was obvious that they were talking about you. But why? You didn't remember this man at all. So why did he keep saying he loved you?

"Yoona…" you whispered, not wanting to hear any more of this conversation. All heads in the room turned to you. Yoona's eyes widened as she ran towards you and hugged you. You slowly wrapped your arms around her as she cried into your shoulder. You placed your chin on her shoulder and let your eyes wander to him.

He was indeed a gorgeous man.

But he's bad. He wanted to hurt you.

He stared back at you with pain evident in his eyes. Did he really mean what he said? But that didn't matter. You didn't know him.

A part of you was screaming at you to run to him. It made you wonder if he really wanted to harm you. Because if he did then he would have already done something. Instead, he brought you to his house, got your wounds cleaned up and even respected your words when you asked him to go away. That didn't seem like a bad guy to you. You could see him clenching his fists, as if he was holding back.

"Are you okay?" Yoona pulled away and cupped your cheeks. You nodded and smiled softly before pouting.

"I wanna go home." You said, blinking rapidly to stop yourself from crying. Yoona chuckled and nodded before bringing you back into a hug. This time you buried your head in her neck, inhaling her scent. This was home to you.

"We'll go home. Wait for me in the room and I'll get you ready. Then we can leave." She said, making you nod as you backed away into the room. Your eyes met his as you closed the door, your heart picking up its pace. You frowned and placed a hand on your chest.

He's a bad guy.

Taehyung stood still, staring at the closed door, wishing for you to come back out and tell him that this is all a joke. And that you remembered him.

"You said she lost her memories. How did she know me?" Yoona asked, looking around at everyone. They all glanced at Taehyung before Jimin sighed, knowing that Taehyung wasn't gonna answer anything anymore.

"She lost all her memories related to... Taehyung. She remembers you so that's the only possible explanation." He explained, receiving a nod from Hoseok.

Just for a second, Yoona felt pity for Taehyung. It must be really painful to lose someone so quickly. But it disappeared just as it came, her mind displaying nothing but joy. If you really didn't remember Taehyung then she could do anything. She could make sure that you never remember him.

"I'll help you." She lied, watching in amusement as Taehyung's eyes lit up. She walked closer to him and gave him a look full of sympathy.

"She's my best friend. No matter how much I hate you, I can't take away the part of her that was happy. Unfortunately, it was with you." Yoona was surprised at how convincing she sounded. With a poker face, she left everyone to think about her words as she entered your room.

After a minute of silence, Jungkook spoke up.

"Do you seriously believe that?"

His eyes danced across the room, taking in everyone's face as he waited for a reply.

"Of course not. She thinks she's good at lying but she isn't. She couldn't even hide her satisfaction." Taehyung stated, moving to stand by the window. He was already tired and with every passing second, he could feel you slipping out of his fingers. This was the first time Kim Taehyung was gonna lose. And he was pretty sure that a lot of people would enjoy watching him break.

"We'll get through this, Tae. We all know she loves you. Someday she's gonna come back." Namjoon said, squeezing Taehyung's shoulder comfortingly. He was right. Taehyung knew that. Namjoon always managed to say the right things.

Taehyung leaned his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes and gathering himself. He had to say goodbye to you for a while. Just for a while.

Is that what you think?

He gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply, hating how a big part of him had already given up.

💔🖤💔🖤💔🖤

You held yoona's hand and followed her as she led you out of the room. You glanced down at the clothes you were wearing, still wondering how there was an entire closet full of women clothing and why Yoona had packed them all in a bag. You didn't know if they were your clothes but if they were….

How did they get here?

Your head hurt with the amount of questions you had. Everything was so suspicious and you were so lost.

You gulped on seeing seven men standing in the living room, all their eyes fixed on you as Yoona continued to drag you. You recognized one of them. He was the one who had treated your wounds. You hesitantly nodded at him with a broken smile. His aura was warm and you felt calm around him.

Hoseok.

That was his name. That's what he had told you.

You could see the sad smiles on everyone's faces and it seemed as though your heart hurt. But one thing was out of place. The man who was the target of most of your questions, wasn't looking at you. He was just staring out the window with his back facing you. Just as you reached the door of the big house, you stopped. Yoona frowned and looked at you as you glanced at your clenched fist.

Your mind was a mess. You didn't know if you should do this or not. With a shaky breath, you let go of yoona's hand and turned towards the men in the room. Surprisingly, you weren't intimidated by any of them. They all seemed nice to you.

Giving nervous looks around the room, you slowly made your way towards the window, your heart beating faster with every step you took. You could tell he wasn't in a good mood. The way his body was slumped against the window made you think that he was upset. You stopped right behind him, feeling more nervous as everyone continued to stare at you.

You bit your lip harshly, reaching your hand out to place it on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he turned around, his breath hitching as he clearly wasn't expecting you.

Your heart started pounding in your chest on seeing him up close. He was really beautiful. His eyes looked into yours with emotions that you couldn't decipher. Averting your gaze to the floor, you stretched your closed fist towards him, waiting for him to take it.

Taehyung frowned and placed his palm beneath your fist, watching as you slowly opened it. A folded piece of paper fell on his palm making him look up at you. Your hand had briefly touched his and your eyes widened momentarily. For some reason, your cheeks became really warm and your heart felt as if it was gonna jump out of your chest. With all the courage you could muster, you looked up at him one last time before turning around and rushing towards Yoona, a soft smile gracing your lips as she led you out of the house.

Taehyung wanted to dance around with joy. He wasn't ready to watch you leave, which is why he had decided to not pay attention to you when you came out of the room. He could feel eyes on his back but he assumed it was the members. There was no way you would look at him. You were scared of him. Out of everyone, you were scared of him. When a hand tapped his shoulder, he again assumed it was one of the members. But it wasn't.

It was you.

His heart was gonna leap out when you handed him the paper. This was the most exciting thing that had happened since he found you. He quickly unfolded the paper after you left, his eyes lightening up when he read what you wrote. And for the first time in a while, he had hope. He smiled as he read the words again and again. He was gonna make you love him again. No matter what it took.

"I do not know who you are or what happened but I'm guessing it has something to do with me. If you aren't the person who wanted to kill me, then...I hope we meet again!" -Y/N Y/L/N

Taglist: @min-t-posts @annoyinglyunabashedangel @bringitseijoh @kpopgirlbtssvt @unppleased @shadowstark @bangtanniexxx @wendyiiwl @imlostindarkness @tipu-tempus @bvbsins @jazzytfw @lovestrucked-again @hopetookmysoul @angelwolfexorcist @somewhereinthestarss

Tell me if I missed anyone out! And tell me if you wanna be added!! Love ya~

-XX

[neoculturetechxgot7]

Gardenia on the Crown - J.J.H.

3; White sheets and frustration

pairing: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

genre: angst

length: lil less than 1k words?

warnings: mild language

``

The moment your hand comes in contact with the bronze coldness of the handle it's impossible to stop your chest from overfilling with waves of relief. You're only seconds away from walking into your newly acquired room, your personal maid awaiting on the other side of the door and fresh, perfumed sheets silently pleading to rest you.

Jaehyun is hot on your tail and although his suffocating grasp fell after reaching the top of the staircase, you can still prominently sense his presence behind your back, each one of his footsteps bouncing loudly against mosaic decorated walls and shiny marble. The burning feeling of his fingers curving around your wrist has now turned into a dull numbness, spreading out like some kind of venom over your skin with a unique lingering warmth.

Without sparing him a single glance, you push the heavy, wooden door open and enter your chamber, gaze instantly landing on the white bedding you've been longing to see all day. A light scent of flora and dust seeps into your lungs as you take a hesitant step inside, observing the room you'd be calling yours until the damned marriage for the first time.

Having arrived too early in the morning to meet both the prince and his father, you haven't had the chance visit it, only sent your maid to settle the luggage and assure everything is in order, even clean if needed. Judging from the looks of it, the royals were very generous with the choice of your temporary place...

Engraved walls, adorned by thin, intricate streaks of gold that shimmer so stunningly under noon sunlight, luxurious furniture on every corner and a bed almost bigger than the one back home, to house all your peachy dreams and grey nightmares. Upon walking further inside with slight precaution, you spot a gigantic bookcase taking up the entire expanse of the west wall, a colourful variety of book spines placed neatly in order on the shelves.

Thank God, they have books in this hellhole.

At least you will be more than comfortable while hiding from Jaehyun in here now.

The very next moment, a girl dressed in crimson red appears in front of you, bowing with her humble eyes falling to the ground in respect. The sight of her, one of the most trustworthy people in your life and probably your closest friend, instantly draws the curve of a smile on your face. Suddenly, it's almost as if that hideous morning fades into wrinkled scraps of memories, as if everything is going to be okay because her mere existence feels like home and that calms you in more ways than imaginable.

She greets you with the kindest voice, a small bow following.

"Can you please bring me my sleeping gown?" You order with a newfound liveliness dripping from your tone, fingertips reaching up to untie the front of your tight dress; sleep, sweet sleep how it's seducing your eyelids so greedily...

But the girl remains still, her gaze only rapidly moving from the floor to your face and on then something far behind you.

Then, it hits.

Swiftly and more aggressively than needed, you spin around on your thin heels just to find his overly too annoying figure leaning against the door frame, eyeing you with bare impatience.

"Why are you still here..." you ask, not able to conceal the obvious irritation oozing from each word.. "...your Highness?"

Jaheyun promptly nods at your maid and proceeds to casualy walk further inside your room -without permission-. "Could you leave us alone for a second, servant?"

Your blood immediately starts to boil upon hearing him. Who does he think he is to invade your private space so carelessly and give orders your maid in such a rude manner? Prince or not you aren't having it.

Watching her bow again and scurry to the door, you want nothing more than to pull the poor girl back and proudly show indiscipline to your future husband, but for the sake of honour, you manage to contain yourself to a dramatic cough to gather both their attention.

"Excuse me, but she is no servant. She's my maid and you have no right to boss her around!" You are nearly yelling, arms crossed over your chest, as the built up frustration has the chance of a small release for the first time today.

He moves aside for the girl to leave and keeps a quiet stance while slowly swinging the door closed.

"First of all, I do have the right." His voice revibrates into the room louder than you expected, before he turns to focus a pair of icy, freezing eyes, with all the intimidation and arrogance they carry, on you. "And second..."

His long strides quickly lead him just in front of where you're standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back.

"What the hell were are you doing?"

You're utterly taken aback by his sudden reaction, not fully understanding what he means. Even so, you stand your ground, taking a step forward and wearing the most stern face you can master, hands subconsciously running over the ruffles of your dress.

"What am I doing?"

"Why did you fake a headache?"

And your limbs fall still, lips slightly parting at a loss for words, your glance descending from his face to the thin white shirt cladding his chest. This is a second blow you didn't expect, although it was quite obvious the pretentious pain and dizziness back there wasn't all that believable.

Does he have confront you for it though, as if he hasn't realised you're practically running away from his oh so noble existence the whole day?

"How did you know I was faking it?"

"Well, you just confirmed it." Damn him "But also, you're a terrible liar."

"The hell I'm not!" Your voice is growing steadily louder and if he steals any more time from your life to kindly piss you off with stupid, pointless accusations, the whole palace will hear your rage.

"Well, for a princess, your acting was awful, sorry to break it to you." His eyebrow arches mockingly, a grin pulling across his lips to reveal the breathtaking grace of pearly teeth and for a second you think how this is the first time he's ever shown you his smile; as much as you hate to admit it, the entire room just got a little brighter and your head feels a little lighter, a little drowsy...

And it miraculously only appears while he is making fun you. How fitting.

"I grew up in royalty. Do you know how good of an actress one must be to pretend they're not bored out of their mind when dancing with princes who's name they don't even remember?" At this point, you're close enough to kick him straight where he deserves for being such a jerk and the air buzzes heavily with the electricity of every tense emotion radiating off of you.

Jaehyun only drops his gaze to the leather shoes he sports, a chuckle escaping him in the process and if you didn't hate his guts so much, it would've made your heart skip a beat or two at how gentle and beautiful the sound is. "Is that so?"

The prince comes to stand just a breath away from you, minimizing the distance with his eyes rising to render you helpless under their dark pits where a lone spark of mischief shines. "Did you feel the same way on our first dance?"

Did he seriously bring that up?

The smugness on his smirk solely grows, he's teasing...

At the reference of the very first night he laid eyes on you, the most obvious shade of red tints your cheeks as you stand frozen, mouth slightly agape in search of an appropriate answer. He managed to leave you speechless, a river of memories from that ball flowing into your mind ceaselessly and after a moment of silence, it strikes you how you are embarrassed yet again in his presence. No man has ever made you blush three times in a day.

Damn. Him.

"Either way, you might need to learn to lie a little better if you want to stand by my side like a true queen one day."

The words slice through your chest harder than a sword as Jaehyun carelessly backs up towards the door, after just having insulted your dignity and simultaneously rubbed this stupid arranged marriage at your face.

It doesn't surprise you anymore how you long so intensely to grab the closest heavy object and throw it straight at him to wipe that sinister smirk off of his face once and for all. He has surpassed the level of patience you're willing to have with him.

How dare he?

"I don't want to stand by your side like anything!" You shout, startling him as the suppressed anger finally bursts and he halts in place, still like a boulder.

He didn't see it coming.

The faintest trace of shock is written across his face in narrow eyes and a parted mouth, the one emotion he doesn't manage to mask all that well.

You're waiting for him to yell back, scold you and degrade you even more for mouthing such a thing, openly showing your disagreement towards marrying him. You're waiting for bad consequences to come, seeing his lips slightly quiver when he tilts his head.

If he meant to say something, you will never know, as Jaehyun spares you one last glance that hides a mixture of anger, disappointment and something else you can't quite define before reaching for the handle. He leaves you in a deafening silence, interrupting it only by banging the door closed with force and you're alone, at last.

Only that now sleep won't seek out for your eyelids so easily, his words tormenting your mind like restless spirits, a bitter echo to remind you how cold the prince truly is, after all.

//

previous || next

[jemmafitzsimmons]

For the prompt thing! If you haven't done it already 😊 FitzSimmons + 18 😀

thank you for the prompt! hope you enjoy!

with this ring, may you always know one thing… (~3.5k)

Summary: Post season five. Back on Earth, Fitz employs Deke’s help in conquering his life’s most recent dilemma - picking out a new ring for Jemma.

read below or on AO3!

~

The jewelry shop at the end of the road was completely empty save for the lone shopkeeper behind the back counter, the flashing (and slightly rusting) open sign in the window the only other evidence that the establishment hadn’t been completely abandoned. From their spot outside the catty-cornered convenience store, Fitz hadn’t shifted his attention away from the tiny shop for a while now, which wasn’t helping his poor ice cream as it melted down the cone onto his hand.

“Watch it, you’re making a mess,” Deke warned him, shaking his head in disapproval as he shoved him a napkin. “What a waste.”

Fitz wiped his hand clean before reluctantly taking another taste of his ice cream. “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said after, the sweet vanilla flavor doing little to ease the tension inside his stomach.  

“Ice cream is always a good idea.”

“No, I don’t mean this,” Fitz said, gesturing to the soft serve cone in his hand, “I mean…” He nodded his head in the direction of the shop across the street.

“Ah, right. That makes more sense.”

After handing over the rest of his soiled cone to Deke, he sunk down heavily onto a nearby bench, Deke following him soon after.

It wasn’t how he pictured it—picking out something as significant and special as an engagement ring, with his grandson of all people. He thought maybe he’d ask for his mother’s ring, the idea surfacing in his mind mere moments after him and Jemma had officially gotten together back at the Playground. She was the one who didn’t want to waste any more time, after all. But considering that that ring was originally picked out by someone he’d rather erase from his memory, he thought against it. Then he thought maybe he’d ask Coulson to go with him to pick one out, but upon glancing up at the cockpit of the Zephyr after they found him in space and seeing the name engraved in such a fashion, he soon realized that wasn’t an option anymore. And then at one point in time since he’d gotten back, still recuperating after what they all considered the craziest rescue mission in all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s history, he even considered crafting a ring for her himself. But with her so closely attached to his hip in the lab ever since they’d returned to the Lighthouse, it was nearly impossible for him to hide any of his projects from her.

So, he was left with Deke. Not that that was necessarily a terrible thing—Deke was surprisingly supportive even if they had technically just met a few weeks prior, their friendship still in the early stages as Fitz grew accustomed to a new companion always hovering in the lab.

But beyond the company, there was also the problem that had been nagging at Fitz ever since they’d ventured outside for the day: picking out a ring in the first place.

He heard Deke rustling around in his backpack, eventually handing him a steel vacuum sealed bottle.

“Here, drink this,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

Fitz gave him a quizzical look. “Is that…? Do you just carry some with you everywhere?”

“Well, you never know when you’ll need a pick-me-up.”

Reluctantly, Fitz took a small swig, grimacing at the taste and reminding himself to later introduce Deke to a stronger variety of alcoholic beverages.

They sat in silence for a bit, and then it wasn’t long before Fitz felt a light bump against his arm from Deke and he knew he couldn’t stay quiet forever. Fitz pressed his lips into a firm line, shaking his head. “She already has a ring,” he explained, handing Deke back the bottle. “One that she wore for an entire year before she found me, one that I… well not me, but… a version of me put on her finger as a promise to be with her forever. And then that me broke that bloody promise, so that ring is all she has left.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” With the ice cream finally finished off, Deke leaned in closer to Fitz, his voice a mix of encouragement and sympathy. “Sure, there was another version of you that lived through that time with her. But it’s not like that was a completely different version of you. You’re still here.” When Fitz didn’t respond, his eyes still staring at his lap, Deke poked him in his arm again. “Come on, you still planned to propose to her once you woke up in the future, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Fitz said instantly, looking up.  

“See,” Deke emphasized. “You’re still you, still the person she wants to marry. And she doesn’t have to let go of that ring if she doesn’t want to.”

Pulling in his lips, Fitz nodded. He knew Jemma kept their original rings in a box buried in her things. When they got back to the Lighthouse, she used to wear them on a simple chain to keep them close, but after a few days since his return—bittersweet days filled with physical comfort and quiet conversations in their bunk more than anything else—the rings disappeared from around her neck. Not wanting to question her or bring up more painful memories as she finally settled into her feelings of relief from having him home, he found them again one early morning at the bottom of a drawer, choosing never to mention it unless she brought it up herself.

“But you can still give her something that’s from you,” Deke went on. “Something that… that doesn’t have to remind her of what happened.” His expression shifted, his eyes becoming brighter than before. “The you from that timeline didn’t even pick out that ring. I did. It was all last minute, could have been a total disaster, really. And sure, that ring is always gonna be special to her in a way, but this one is gonna be even better because you picked it out.”

Through a sigh, Fitz gave him a single nod. He couldn’t help but agree. At least this time around, he had the luxury of planning it all out himself, wanting to wait for just the right moment to ask her.

“I’m just here for moral support,” Deke added with a shrug, placing his hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “And to make sure you don’t go crazy over budget. Or choose the same one as last time. But I guess that’s impossible because apparently there are like a million to choose from.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows.

“I did a little research,” Deke explained. “Rings are expensive.”

“Yeah,” Fitz replied through a laugh. “Which is why I gotta make sure I pick the right one.”

At this, Deke’s expression grew more serious. “She’s gonna love it no matter what.”

Swallowing hard, Fitz sat in silence as he took in his new friend’s words. Deke may not be right about a lot of things, but there was no denying that he was right on this occasion.

Before Fitz could overthink the entire plan a second longer, Deke slung his backpack over his shoulder and near dragged Fitz across the road to the jewelry shop. The tiny bell that rang as they opened the front door alerted the shopkeeper, who looked up with hopeful eyes and a wide smile.

“How can I help you two gentlemen?” she asked.

“I’m looking to…” The words caught in Fitz’s throat, and as he hesitated for a few seconds, he turned to Deke, who nodded at him encouragingly. Clearing his throat, Fitz looked back to the shopkeeper. “I’m here to purchase a ring. I’m proposing to my girlfriend.”

Her face lit up at his words as she gestured toward the counter on the far wall. “Ah, right this way, then.”

As they approached the glass case, Fitz’s eyes widened, his previous nerves returning to his stomach, but for an entirely different reason. Despite the small size of the shop and the town itself, the jewelry case was chock-full of sparking pieces, each one more intricate and beautiful than the last.

“You were right,” Fitz said, lightly patting Deke’s arm. “There are a million to choose from.”

“Are you looking for one in particular, a certain style perhaps?” the woman asked.

Fitz opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t think of a response. This entire time pondering whether he should even pick out a new ring in the first place, he’d never stopped to consider how difficult it would be to actually choose one out of so many.

Deke seemed to notice his dilemma, so he leaned slightly over the counter and whispered, “Could we just browse on our own for a little while?”

The woman gave them a soft smile. “Take your time. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” Fitz told her.

Returning his eyes to the case, he spent a solid ten minutes taking in all of the choices of rings. He didn’t realize there could be so many different styles, settings, and colors – no wonder it was difficult for Jemma to make any sort of fashion decision when there were so many options. And this wasn’t going to be a simple piece like a dress she would eventually outwear or a necklace that could easily be replaced. It needed to stand the test of time.

“Well,” Deke said after a while, “what do you think? Anything catch your eye?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about jewelry.” Through his search, he’d eliminated quite a few choices straightaway before coming across a few rings he thought looked nice, especially one in particular near the back that seemed to somehow sparkle even brighter than the rest. “What about that one?” he asked Deke, pointing towards it.

Deke nodded. “Yeah, I like it a lot. Plus, admit it or not, but you’ve been staring at it this entire time.”

It was one of the simpler rings in the collection, Fitz knowing some of the flashier options wouldn’t be suitable for Jemma’s tastes. The one in question featured a single square cut stone set in a delicate white gold band. Most of the other rings almost felt like a fantasy—meant for couples looking for something extravagant to go along with their equally extravagant weddings. But he knew Jemma didn’t want any of that, and he wanted the ring she wore for the rest of her life to be something that captured what he loved most about her. Of course, he would always see her as the most brilliant and beautiful person in the universe, but she was so much more than that, and when he thought of them as they were together now, it was always about the simple things. The way a single glance from her across the lab caused his heart to seize even after all this time, the way her hand always seemed to seek out his in any moment they were alone, the way she said ‘I love you’ as if it was the first time the words had ever fallen off her tongue. After the whirlwind that was the last five or so years, plus the agonizing year of being apart, simple was a relief. And so a simple ring seemed like the most fitting choice.

The shopkeeper quietly approached the counter to check in, so Fitz pointed towards the ring underneath the glass.

“Can I see that one there?” he asked.

“Of course.” After pulling the tray of rings out of the case and retrieving the one he sought, she held it up for him. The overhead light brought out its shine even more, and as he held it between his fingers, he knew from that moment on that it would forever live on Jemma’s hand. If she said yes, of course.

“That’s a princess cut diamond,” the woman said. “Beautiful choice. Definitely a classic look.”

“That’s good,” Deke replied, turning to Fitz. “Classic is good, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “It’s perfect.”

“Is this the one?” the shopkeeper asked.

With a small smile, he looked up and nodded.

“She’s a lucky girl,” she said.

“Nah,” Fitz said more to himself. “I’m the lucky one.”

~

The little ping signaling the completion of the bio-simulation rang on her computer, but Jemma didn’t stir from her desk chair where she lay sound asleep. It was much later than she normally would have stayed up working in the lab, but Fitz knew she was determined by her latest experiments and wasn’t surprised she had worked herself to the point of exhaustion. As he squeezed himself through the door of the lab, opening it just wide enough to slip through as to not disturb her, a faint smile washed over his face at the sight of her curled up underneath a blanket, her hand still inches away from her keyboard as if she had nodded off mid thought.

It was his blanket, technically. After what had been one of the lowest points in his life—on his own in space and forced to work for some unknown alien species, eventually being separated from Enoch, and then having no way of knowing if he’d ever be reunited with his family again—they’d found each other. Their reunion on Enoch’s ship was a mess of tears and clinging desperately to each other, and in that moment, Enoch had draped the blanket over his shoulders, more for comfort than anything else. Even if Fitz wasn’t sure if his Chronicom friend could feel emotions quite as deeply as humans, he liked to think in some way that Enoch understood their feelings of relief. And Jemma, forever grateful for Enoch’s help in bringing Fitz back to her, had grown attached to the simple blanket ever since.

Once Fitz finally reached her side in the lab, he swept a stray hair out of her face, the simple motion bringing her back, her eyes fluttering open.

“Oh, hi,” she said, squinting her eyes as she readjusted to her surroundings.  

“Hey.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at her monitor. “Almost midnight.”

She groaned, stretching her arms above her head. “Didn’t realize it was so late.” Through a yawn, she reached for his hand, pulling it into her lap. “Did you have a good time with Deke? I know he’s been itching to spend some time with you, and the fresh air must have been great as well.”

He hummed in response, hiding a small smile. “It was a good day. Found some cool shops, it was nice. How was yours?”

“Promising. Still need to work out a few kinks in the simulation, but hopefully after you and I look at it, it should work itself out.”

“Yeah, we can look at it tomorrow. Ready to call it a night?”

“Definitely.” But as she moved to stand, her foot suddenly caught the corner of her blanket, which resulted in her tumbling forward before catching herself on the edge of her workbench but not before a handful of files fell off the surface and scattered across the floor.

“Whoa, easy there,” Fitz said through a chuckle, catching her by the waist.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Jemma grumbled. Through a huff, she bent over to begin cleaning up the mess.  

Fitz kneeled down to help, trying to follow her system as he recognized the color-coded pages. “Someone needs a real bed,” he teased.

“Mmm. Good idea.”

It only took a moment for them to collect the papers and reorganize them to Jemma’s liking. When they were finished, Jemma stood and hugged the blanket to her chest. “Okay, come on,” she urged Fitz with a yawn, holding out her hand to help him off the floor.  

Hesitating, he didn’t take her hand right away and resisted when she tried to pull him up.

“Fitz?”

Looking down at her feet, he let out a slow exhale.

It was a better moment than any other. They were alone, it was quiet. And here he was—already on one knee. With a wave of butterflies swooping through his stomach, he met her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, raising her brow.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “What I should have done a lot sooner.”

The realization of what he was about to do seemed to hit her instantaneously, her bright but tired smile morphing into a look of surprise before transforming into one of complete overwhelming emotion.

“Fitz,” she said, her voice thick.  

“I’ve probably thought about this moment…” He shook his head, glancing off to the side as the look on her face made it difficult to hold himself together. “…a thousand times over by now. And every time, I think of something else I want to say, a different time and place to say it.” With a pause, he pulled on her hand and nodded for her to sit, pulling the rolling chair closer so he could rest their hands on her knees. “Because this is it. I don’t get to do this again. I don’t get another second chance.”

She sucked in a breath, her bottom lip trembling as she tilted her head.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve known for the longest time that I want to be with you forever, and nothing is ever gonna change that. Not space, not time. Not… not even death.”

Jemma’s tears were flowing freely now, and through a sharp exhale, she gripped his hands more firmly in her lap.

“You deserve the world and so much more,” he told her, “so I hope to give you all of me, even if that doesn’t seem enough.”

“It is enough, and you already do.” She reached for him then, pulling him desperately close until his head was in her lap, her own head resting on top of his.

Reveling in the quiet, he took in the feeling of her breaths against his neck, the soft strokes of her fingers through his hair. His knees were starting to ache, and he could feel her limbs growing heavy through her exhaustion, but he could have stayed with her there hours longer—just the two of them holding each other up for as long as they could.

“I love you so much,” she murmured against his skin some time later.

“I love you, too.”

“And I can’t wait to marry you.”

He thought for a second that he’d misheard her, so he slowly lifted his head from her lap to find her eyes, a laugh almost escaping his lips.

“Jemma, I… I haven’t even asked yet.”

At once, her eyes grew wide in horror. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m so sorry. I just ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No, never,” he assured her, squeezing her knee. “But now that I have your full attention…” Keeping his gaze on her, he reached into his pocket, finding the small velvet box and holding it between their hands.

“Jemma Anne Simmons…” he said, lifting the top to reveal the treasure within, “will you marry me?”

He held his breath, briefly wondering if she was going to make him wait long for her reply, but he didn’t have to think on it for more than a half second because she was already lurching forward and pressing her lips to his.

“Yes,” she said against his lips, “of course, I will.” When they parted, she pressed more kisses to his cheeks and forehead. “When did you…?” she asked when she eventually pulled back. “You weren’t just exploring the town, were you?”

“No, we made a bit of a detour. What do you think?”  

“It’s perfect.” Her face crumbled again as she took in the ring, sniffing and wiping under her eyes as she watched him remove it carefully from the box. And when he slowly slid it onto her finger and they stared at it together, it was somehow even more exquisite than before. But it wasn’t all that surprising—she always managed to bring light to whatever she touched, and the ring was no exception.

“Alright, Fiancée,” he said, patting her leg before pushing himself up and smiling despite himself as her face lit up upon hearing the word. “Bed. For real this time. Got blanket?”

Through a laugh, she pulled at the cozy throw, previously left forgotten in the back of her chair, and bundled it up in her arms, giving him a firm nod.  “Yes, blanket is secure.”

“Good.” With a slight groan, he hooked his arms under her and then a bit unsteadily lifted her up out of the chair.

“Fitz,” she protested. “I’m tired, but also fully capable of walking. And someone is bound to also be awake at this hour.”

“Come on, it’s a special occasion.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of the ritual for one’s wedding night.”

“Well, I hardly think we’re traditional.”

After a smile spread across on her face, she thankfully gave in, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as they left the empty lab for the night. Moving slowly down the darkened halls, he thought of how much she’d carried him over the past few weeks, helping him find his way back to her after such a dreadful time apart. Even if he still had a long way to go in lifting her up just as much as she had done since his return, he thought of that moment as a hopeful start.

🍦💍

[storiessandstudiess]

Bring it back

Prompt: I still love you

A Queen inspired imagine based on the song "Love of my life".

Steve Rogers x female Reader

Warning: nothing but pure angst, a little bit sad fluff, infinity war spoilers ( if you haven't watched that movie yet ), character death: losing a loved one.

It has been raining the entire day and Steve who stands infront of the huge window looks over the skyline of the city he once loved so deeply. Now after everything that happened in the past year, he can't help himself but to feel strong dislike whenever he looked down on it.

He hears how the door behind him opens and closes but he doesn't bother to turn around, he continues to stare outside into the night as if he didn't hear a single noise.

"You're Captain America.", a female voice says and he hears the impressment in it:"The man who died for his country- or at least would die...".

Steve sighs and simply shakes his head, he's already dead- the events surrounding Thanos made him feel lifeless and most of all it made him feel hopeless.

"No I'm not- not anymore.", he answers her without turning around:" Captain America doesn't exist anymore.".

He hears how footsteps are slowly approaching him and when he turns his head he meets eyes with Carol Danvers, the mysterious woman that appeared a couple of days ago after his team turned on a device that once belonged to Nick Fury.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Mr.Rogers?", she asks and when Steve nods after a few seconds she points past him:"I see this woman everywhere, in almost every picture- but she isn't here. Who is she?".

Steve follows her finger and once his eyes land on a framed photograph his expressions turn even colder than they already were to begin with. Carol didn't know that was possible.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart, and now you leave me.

Without answering her question he turns around and walks straight out of the room. The blonde haired woman watches how he leaves until his footsteps were no longer audible.

As she turns around to look out of the window herself her eyes fall once again on the framed picture that stands on the shelf.

"Don't take it a personal.",a voice Suddenlink says and Carol turns around to see Dr. Bruce Banner standing in the door frame. With a half smile on his face:"He just hasn't moved on yet- personally I don't think he ever will, but someday he will get used to the pain and then you can mention her again.", he walks over to her and takes the frame into his hands:"Right now, we all have to act as if she never existed in the first place. We don't talk about her around him.".

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bruce stares at the picture and his thump slowly removes the thin layer of dust. He smiles softly.

"Who is she?".

"Like I said, we don't talk about her.".

Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me

Because you don't know what it means to me.

A couple of days later Carol walks into the living room, it's almost sunrise and the rest of the Avengers are slowly waking up too.

As she makes her towards the kitchen she sees a figure laying on the couch. She raises her eyebrows in confusion, didn't everyone have their own room?

Without thinking twice about it she continues to make her way into the kitchen, and once again she finds a picture with her on it. The mysterious woman with the y/h/l y/h/c hair and the y/e/c eyes. Next to her stands Steve he has his arm wrapped around her waist.

Compared to the Steve Rogers Carol has met, the one on the photograph seems to be a total different person. He seems carefree, happy, and full of life.

"Good morning.",a deep voice says and when Carol turns around she sees Steve standing infront of the refrigerator. His hair is a mess and his beard is longer than when she met him a couple of days ago, compared to the Steve on the photograph he seems as if he doesn't have control over his own life anymore.

When he realizes that she stares he closes the door and puts the milk on the counter:"You're good?".

"Are you sleeping on the couch?".

"Can you only ever ask questions?".

"Why don't you sleep in your room.".

"I don't have one- at least not anymore.".

"Why?".

"The smell is suffocating me."

Love of my life, don't leave me

You've stolen my love, and now desert me

Carol was confused by the whole situation and she couldn't get the woman out of her head.

After all she was in every single photograph and every time when she entered a room she was greeted by her smile.

Everyone looked at the pictures but no one dared to talk about her. It was as if the thought of her was suffocating the Avengers.

That's why Carol decided to go and look for an answer herself and one night when everyone was fast asleep she went into the basement of the Avengers facility.

The hallways are dark and cold, and the boxes are dusty while the white cardboards have turned yellow.

Hours pass and still she hasn't figured out her identity, it's as if she never existed on the paper. She lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Why do you care so much?".

Carol jumps and quickly turns around at the sound of the voice. Her fists start to glow and she holds them up defensive.

Steve stands on the last step and looks at her unimpressed while he holds a cup of coffee in his hand. He takes a sip before he walks up to her. The blonde haired man looks at the documents that lay on the floor:"Are you really that desperate to find out who she is?".

Love of my life, can't you see?

"It's just I see her everywhere. She's everywhere.",Carol answers as she picks up the papers of the floor and putting them back into the boxes:"I can feel her presence, I-.".

"Yeah, don't. Don't put your nose into things that are none of your business.",he says and gives her a fake smile before he walks back towards the stairs:"Go to bed, Danvers.".

"If she made you so happy. Then how come she isn't here anymore. Did you sent her away?",she asks and Steve stops dead in his tracks:"Did you tell her to go away and now you regret it?".

"What did you just say?".

"If no one is allowed to talk about her then why are her pictures still there?".

Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me

Because you don't know what it means to me

"How dare you say I sent her away?",Steve growls and throws the cup on the floor, it shatters into pieces, just like his heart did last year:"You have no right to talk this way about someone who I've loved so deeply someone who's dead!".

A silence fills the room and Carol swallow thickly:"She's- She's dead?".

Steve takes a deep breath:"She died last year after Thanos snapped his fingers- she died right in front of me.".

"I'm so sorry.",she says in a whisper:"I-".

"It's fine.", Steve shakes his head before he once again turns around to walk out of the basement. When he reaches the stairs he turns around once again and hesitantly says:"Her- her boxes are down the hallway right. Number 0962.".

Carol can hear the pain in his voice and she feels bad for accusing him of sending her away.

When she finds the boxes she sits down on the floor and leans her back against the wall.

"Y/N Y/L/N Rogers.",she reads out what's written on the papers.

"Y/N was my wife.".

Steve who stands next to Carol hold two cups of coffee in his hands, as he sits down next to her he hands her one:"I'm sorry for screaming at you and for behaving the way I did.".

"No I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put this pressure on you- I didn't know.".

But without answering her Steve takes a photograph into his hands, it shows a young woman with in a black suit:"Look, that's Y/N after she got accepted into SHIELD, look how happy she looked.".

And for the first time since Carol knows him he was smiling. A genuine and pure smile formed on his lips.

"I met her a week later, after she got transferred to Tony Stark. She had to work as his assistant for a couple of months. After we found out that she was a really powerful mutant we trained her and she eventually became an Avenger.".

"She was beautiful.".

Steve's blue eyes are filling themselves up with tears as he nods his head:"She was the most beautiful woman that ever walked on this planet, I'm convinced. You can't believe how gorgeous she looked in her wedding dress. I-".

He stops talking and turns his head to look at Carol:"The reason why there are so many pictures of her in the building is that I'm not ready to let go of her, and talking about her seemed impossible for me, you know.".

You will remember, when this is blown over

And everything's all by the way

When I grow older, I will be there at your side

To remind you how I still love you

The entire night both of them spent talking about Y/N and Steve's memories of her.

And with every sentence it hurt less for him.

"I know I will miss her until the day I die.",Steve chuckles:"Because she was the love of my life.".

Carol nods:"She seemed to be an incredible woman. Thank you for sharing her with me...".

Steve just smiles sadly as he reaches once again into the box,he pulls out a vinyl:"Oh- would you look at that. It's her favorite one.".

"She liked Queen?".

"She loved Freddie Mercury, honestly speaking I was always a little bit jealous of that man, because Y/N's love for him was so deeply. Although she kept on telling me I didn't need to worry.".

A few minutes later the sweet sound of "Love of my life" fills the building and the Natasha who is sitting next to Bruce in his laboratory holds her breath.

"Do you hear that?", She asks:"Or am I starting to imagine things.".

"Oh no, I hear it too.".

Both of them smile:"He's finally feeling better.", Natasha says with happy tears in her eyes:"He's finally alive again.".

Back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me

Because you don't know what it means to me