Summary: Have you ever felt like you’re too far up your fandoms that you’re not really living your real life? Well, that. But more.

Word Count: 1,817

Pairings: Dean x reader, Sherlock x reader

Warnings: You’re not gonna like it.
Sudden fandom changes, bit of smut which is not really smutty, lazy writing, suicidal attempt, usage of drugs and alcohol, OOC scenes. 

Original A/N: Because of who I am, I like to exaggerate everything. With that being said, let me tell you that this is how I felt for many years, with multiple fandoms. I have lived a tortous life, therefore I was always seeking to live somewhere else. Almost all of my childhood and teenage years were an on-going loop between my fake life inside my fandoms and my real life. I barely remember anything now outside that make-pretend life I created for myself. 
Now I am living my life, in a way that I can no longer hide inside that fake life. Call it what you want. Anxiety is coming back to me, fyi, and I tried to hide there but I just can’t. This is my way of expressing it.
The Girl, Interrupted theme is because I watched it yesterday after performing Lisa’s monologue at my acting class - a way of giving therapy to myself through art. Anyway, I hope you don’t read this fic. I didn’t like it at all, but I feel the need, nonetheless, to share it somewhere. To have evidence that I went through that. Probably, someone out there has too. Idk.

New A/N: I wrote this MONTHS ago, long before I got diagnosed, and I got scared of posting it because it could be too depressing. But I hate leaving drafts all alone so here goes nothing.

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness…

“Put her in restraints!” A woman yelled. “Withdraw blood… Give her five milligrams of Valium, IV”

“Turn her head so she doesn’t aspirate,” another woman advised. I felt my head being turned by a pair of terribly warm hands.

I was attacked. I had been attacked.

“You should check my hand. There’s no bones in it anymore…”

“What were you thinking?” The first woman asked.

“I was trying to save the world…” I replied, “Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later.”

Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay in one place.

“Hey,” I opened my eyes at the familiar voice. The image at first was blurry, but I could recognize the colors of their flannel shirts. My back was killing me, and my arms felt numb. “(Y/N) are you okay?”

“Yo, sweetheart! Wake up!” A rough voice called out. I could see his red flannel.

Red flannel. Dean was wearing a red flannel, and Sam had the green one. That could only mean one thing…

I looked down at my own clothes, I was wearing a brown flannel.

I smiled childishly, and my vision finally cleared. Both men were staring at me, worried. “I’m home,” is all I could say.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, Sam smiled back at me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, “you’re home with us. Where else would you be?”

“At a hospital or some shit,” I replied.

“We don’t do no hospitals, sweetheart,” Dean reminded me from afar.

“Did we get him? The djinn?” I inquired, with wide eyes.

“Yup,” Sam nodded.

Dean appeared back again, handing me a cold beer. It was closed. Sam took my hand and guided it to my forehead, so I could press the bottle to my forehead. I was probably wounded there too.

“We Jafar-ed the shit out of him,” Dean snorted. Sam inhaled profoundly, as an attempt to not slap his brother. “I Jas-min that we almost didn’t make it…” Dean continued, “but enough Abu me,” he giggled, “how was your daydream, sweetheart? Where’d Iago?”

“Please, stop,” Sam begged. Dean tried to argue but Sam was already looking back at me. “But do tell us where did you go?”

“I…”

“Where did you go?”

“(Y/N)” a strong light blinded me for a second. I suddenly felt something in my eyes, pulling them open. “(Y/N), we’re calling you!” The voice chanted. “Hello, Earth requires Ms (Y/N)…”

“Wha-what?” I stuttered, pulling away from the light.

The scenery had changed. I was no longer at a motel room with awful wallpaper, but instead at a very nice living room, though the wallpaper was still awful.

“Are you okay?” The man that had been calling my name asked. He kneeled in front of me.

“Are you real?” I tilted my head to the side, and he smiled tenderly.

“As real as your nose,” he said and booped my nose. His touch was soft and warm.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” another voice answered. I looked back, only to see the familiar figure of Sherlock sitting on his desk, typing furiously on his computer. “I told you not to get too close to the evidence, but did you listen? No, why?” He gazed back, “Because ‘oh Sherlock, don’t be so stern, it’s just a flower bouquet!’ but I was right, as usual.”

“Let her breath,” Watson commanded. “We both smelled it too and nothing bad happened.”

“Yes, but so did the police officers… All male, I must remind you” Sherlock snapped. “The flowers were sent to a woman who, where is she now? Oh, yes, DEAD!”

“I don’t get it,” I interfered.

“I suspect the flowers are poisoned with some sort of chemical that only affects women, by reacting to their production of hormones.” Sherlock informed me.

“Right… And what does that have to do with your intoxication?” The female voice asked again.

I suddenly snapped back to the hospital. I was laying in a hospital bed, with lots of tubles connected to me. There was a woman in white, sitting by my side with a notepad on her lap.

“Well, obviously I’ve been affected… It’s the flowers, you see…” I spoke.

“Flowers? What flowers?” The nurse, she was a nurse, asked again.

“The poisoned flowers!”

“Do you see them now?” She inquired.

“Of course not!”

“No?”

The djinn stood behind her. “Say no,” he said with an ominous voice.

“No,” I obeyed.

The nurse looked behind her and the djinn disappeared instantly. “Are you seeing anything out of the ordinary at the moment?”

“No, why would I? I’m not crazy,”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were…” Dean sighed. He was sitting by my side, in bed, and was connecting his phone to the charger. “I am a little crazy too, you know?”

“Oh, yeah?” I trembled.

“Yeah,” he muttered and finally let go off his phone. He turned to look at me for a second before cuddling me. I was the small spoon, he was shirtless. “I’m crazy about you.”

“Smooth,” I replied sheepishly. I could feel the ghost of his arms around me… Ghost, because I couldn’t really feel him. He was hot, yet cold as if air was blowing over my skin.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked.

“I am.”

I wasn’t. I’m not okay.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered and pecked my shoulder. Again, I felt it but not quite.

“Dean?”

“Huh?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what would happen after I said what I wnated to say.

“I feel like I’m still inside the djinn’s daydream,” I confessed.

Dean sat up and fixed a lose strand of hair that was falling over my eyes.

“You’re not inside a djinn’s daydream…” He said, calmly.

“How can you tell?” I asked, still not opening my eyes.

“Because djinns don’t exist, that’s why,” he said.

I finally opened my eyes. Black locks and blue eyes were all I could see for a moment.

“Djinns are mythological, and that is all…” Sherlock continued. I could hear his voice turning from Dean’s to his own. “I understand that maybe the toxins from the flowers could affect your perception of life, but there is nothing to fear. The effects will pass and you’ll be good as new.”

“I don’t feel good as new.”

“Clearly,” he grunted.

Noticing my state, he decided to go a little further from his usual behaviour. He pressed his head to my arm… I was still laying on my side, as if I was still being the small spoon.

“I will be here, by your side, as long as you let me.”

My heart fluttered, but not in love but rather in pain.

“I can’t control that.”

“The pills are having a positive effect on her now, we can get her to be conscious for a bit longer than before…” I heard a voice coming from the hall.

“What is that?” I asked. Sherlock tilted his head.

“What?” He furrowed, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, I do.”

I got up from bed and opened the door. At the other side of it was a hospital hall rather than Sherlock’s. All white, with blinding white lights. The nurse was talking to what I assumed was a doctor.

I felt like I would faint again.

Sherlock got up as well and dragged me back to the bed, closing the door behind us.

“You know what could help?” He smirked. “I know… Because I know you.”

He got me back in bed, facing up to the ceiling. I was about to talk, when I felt him pulling down my pijama shorts. A sigh left my lips, as I felt his tongue rubbing my clit in circles. I closed my eyes, filled with pleasure, and tried to keep it quiet so neither Mrs Hudson nor Watson could hear us.

“Come here,” I begged after a while.

I opened my eyes and saw Dean crawling up to my face. His tattoo was covered in sweat and his hair was ruffled.

“You thought I would just leave it there, sweetheart?” He flirted and, without a warning, he thrust inside me. “You feel good today… Tight, and so wet for me…”

I moaned, getting lost in his green eyes. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t.

I didn’t even feel his weight over me.

I blinked.

TARDIS.

I blinked again.

Dean was looking at me, dumbfounded as he made love to me.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again, letting my body fall back into the pillows as I succumbed to the pleasure he… they were giving me. I called both of their names in between whispers until I climaxed.

I sighed and opened my eyes.

I was in my room. Darkness surrounded me. I was alone, and my fingers were still between my legs.

I wiped them quickly with the bed sheets and took my phone to googled Dean Winchester’s name, only to find out that he was not being looked at by the US government, but rather a fictional character. Not only that, but I saw pictures of him in the most intimate moments… Moments I could recall from living them with him.

I clicked on one of his pictures.

Jensen Ackles… Married.

I clicked on Sam’s.

Married.

I clicked on Castiel’s.

Married.

They were all married. Click by click I undercovered the lie I was living in.

“But what about Sher?” I thought to myself.

I googled him. Fictional character, based on the books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

There he was, my Sherlock, next to others who had also played him.

“I thought I was in a hospital,” I whispered.

“Maybe it’s just your unconscious mind asking to be treated by a professional.” Castiel’s voice spoke.

“Maybe it’s because that is where you’re going,” Sam gestured to the side of my bed. A bottle of vodka laid there empty, next to empty sets of aspirins.

“Is there an end to this?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Jim Moriarty spoke from the darkness. “But aren’t you having fun?”

“What if I die?” I insisted.

“You won’t,” Sherlock said, “you still got enough energy to call an ambulance for yourself.”

“Please do,” Watson begged softly.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.

“I need an ambulance…”

“We’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.” Dean smiled with a glimpse of sadness.

“I love you, guys.”

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness… Or maybe I was just a fangirl… Interrupted.

No tags for this one.

Person A: “Am I the only one who feels like this isn’t actually a gameanymore?”

Person B: “Honestly, I’m starting to doubt it ever was.”

Person A: “You killed them, didn’t you?”

Person B: “I did…. Are you not going to ask why?”

Person A: “….I’m pretty sure I already know.”

Person A: “what…. what’s happening?”

Person B: “Shhh sweetie, don’t worry, everything’s going to be ok…. just…. keep your eyes closed for me, ok?”

Person A: “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I fail to understand the reasoning behind your actions… you could have avoided allof this…”

Person B: “Not without risking your lives, and despite what you all seem to think, that has neverbeen, and never willbe, an acceptable option.”

Previous Chapters

Introduction/Author’s Note/ Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow/Chapter 2: Hidden Letters /Chapter 3: Ron’s Return/Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations/Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise/Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match/Chapter 7: Girl Talk/Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push/Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions

Chapter 10: You Would be Fine

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the love and support for this fic, it means so much to me :) Get prepared because this chapter is a lengthy one (about 4,200 words I think…oops). Also, the gif has nothing to do with the chapter I just thought Ron looked really cute lol. Okay anyways enjoy!!!

You were fine. Really you were.

Every time Hermione or Ginny gave you a concerned look while passing, you could easily plaster on an “I’m-good-everything-is-good-thanks-for-asking” smile onto your face.

In reality though, your heart hurt ever damn day.

About 2 weeks ago, Ron broke your heart. Under the oak tree outside, he told you that whatever happened between you was a mistake. Mistake. So instead of moping around for the rest of your summer vacation, you tried to be happy. During the day time you would laugh and joke with the Weasleys, help make meals, finish your school work, and do chores. But at night is when you finally let yourself feel your heartbreak. Once everyone fell asleep, you would creep down the stairs and sit underneath the oak tree, and cry.

It was therapeutic, kind of. With each passing night, you felt better. Yes, it still hurt seeing Ron’s freckled face every morning at breakfast. And it still made your skin and body ache when he accidentally brushed up next to you in the tight kitchen. But you were okay.

You knew that if you let Ron fully see how heartbroken you were, it would change the dynamic between you. You were best friends, and nothing more. No matter how much you loved him, that’s all you would ever be. Instead of jeopardizing the friendship you had come to cherish so greatly, you simply suppressed your love for Ron so you could maintain it. And it was working, king of.

The night after your heartbreak at the oak tree, you started treating Ron exactly as you had before you came to the Burrow, before you had let your emotions run wild. He reciprocated this and before long, you were best friends again. You played Quidditch on each other’s team, joked around with Fred and George, tried the newest Weasley Wizard Wheezes products (though you stayed away from the love potions), and played wizard’s chess together. Although your heart still skipped a beat whenever Ron leaned closer to you, everything was back to normal with your best friend.

Over the past 2 weeks, you had been alternating between sleeping in Ginny’s room for sleepovers, the bed in the attic, or the couch in the living room. Ron didn’t offer his room to you again, which made you sad but you understood. If you were alone with him late at night when your emotions were high, your cover of “nope-i-don’t-love-him-we-are-just-best-friends” was going out the window. So you stuck to your usual 3 beds.

That morning, you had awoken from the attic bed bright and early. Hermione had been getting the girls up at 8am for the past 2 weeks so that you could finish your school work early in the morning and have the rest of the day to relax. Although you hated her every morning for this, you were glad she had such a strict regimen because you had all finished your homework yesterday. Now, for the rest of the summer you were homework free.

By now you were so used to waking up early that it was no longer a surprise for anyone to see you help cook breakfast with Mrs Weasley. Besides Hermione, you two were usually the first awake and in the kitchen right away. This morning was no different as you padded down the creaky wooden steps into the kitchen.

“Good morning Mrs Weasley,” you greeted her, tying an apron around your waist. There were four aprons in the Weasley house; a floral one designated for Mrs Weasley, a dark blue one for Mr Weasley when he would attempt to use a muggle grill, a plain white one for whoever decided to help cook, and a yellow one with stars for you. Mrs Weasley even spelled your name, y/n, on the edge in elegant cursive.

“For my newest child,” she has said when she showed it to you. She pinched your cheeks, the way she did with all of her kids, and the action almost made you tear up. You threw your arms around her in a tight hug and thanked her profusely.

Mrs Weasley smiled approvingly at you as you started on the breakfast. As the usual morning rhythm took place, you cherished the routine of cracking the eggs, putting them in pans, flipping them, and then doing the same thing again and again.

But soon, Mrs Weasley’s voice broke the silence. “Sweetheart, what happened with Ron?” she asked.

Your head snapped up from the frying pan, your eyes meeting Mrs Weasley’s. She looked at you with motherly concern, and for some reason you couldn’t look at her loving face and lie to her.

“I don’t think he feels the same way that I do about him,” you stated, turning your attention back to cooking.

Mrs Weasley huffed. “Well, my son has never been the sharpest boy, as you know,” she said. You giggled, though you were still sad, and she smiled at you. “Maybe things will change honey,” she told you, “love happens unexpectedly.”

Before you got the chance to reply, thundering footsteps sounded from the staircase. You whipped your head around to see the twins barreling down the steps, practically tripping over one another in their hurry.

“Where’s the fire?” you asked.

Fred ran across the room, picked you up around the waist, and spun you around.

“Percy’s home! His work is called off for the week because of his birthday!” He shouted excitedly. You laughed, swatting at him with your spatula until he set you down.

“I didn’t know you two were so excited to see your brother,” Mrs Weasley noted, fixing her sons with a stern and skeptical stare.

“Oh mother, we’re not,” George replied.

“We’re excited to mess with him for a week straight,” Fred added with the largest grin you had ever seen.

As soon as the words left his mouth, more of a promise than anything else, the front door swung open and in entered the most prestigious Weasley of the house. With his rigorous work schedule, you hadn’t seen Percy once this entire summer. But now, here he was, standing in the kitchen in a three piece suit with a pocket watch and shiny black shoes at 8 in the morning.

“Hi Percy,” you said, trying your best not to laugh at the long tail of his suit coat.

“Whatthehell are you wearing?” Fred asked, his face shocked as he took in Percy’s outfit. George’s face was bright red as he held in his laughter.

“This,” Percy said, unironically spinning so everyone could see his outfit, “Is traditional Muggle-wear. As I climb higher in the Ministry’s success ladder, sometimes I have to encounter Muggles, so I must dress accordingly. This particular suit was a gift from one of my many clients.”

He turned to you and you tried to wipe the teasing smile off your face. “Y/n, this is what muggles wear to their jobs, isn’t it?” he asked.

You schooled your features into seriousness. “Oh yes,” you responded, “definitely.”

At that moment, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stumbled down the stairs, looking like they had just woken up. Everyone stayed up late last night playing nighttime Quidditch (an especially difficult yet fun game considering the fact that you can’t see the bludgers because of how dark it is).  

Ron froze when he saw Percy standing in the kitchen, his shoes so shiny they were reflecting the kitchen lights into the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

“Bloody hell, what happened to your clothes?” he asked incredulously. Him and Harry shared a look and then burst out in laughter.

Percy’s ears turned pink at the tips as he huffed before sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. You and Mrs Weasley decorated the center of the table with plate after plate of delicious warm breakfast food. Proud of your hard work, you took off your apron and sat down next to Percy.

Ron sat down next to you as the others joined the table.

“For your information, Ronald, your girlfriend says my clothes are the proper Muggle attire,” Percy said, glaring at his little brother.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ron responded, his ears turning pink now too.

“How’s Penelope?” you asked Percy before you could let yourself get too caught up in the fact that youreally wanted Ron’s response to that question to be different.

Percy smiled at the mention of his longtime girlfriend, who had been a Prefect at Hogwarts with him. “Oh she’s fantastic,” Percy said before launching into a long-winded story about Penelope’s latest project she was working on at the ministry. Words such as “top-secret” “highly important” and “imperative job” floated past your ears.

Ron leaned closer to you and mumbled in your ear, “I wish you hadn’t asked him that.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, giggling behind your hand.

As breakfast began, you were proud of all the compliments you received on your cooking. Waking up early to cook with Mrs Weasley was a part of the day you always looked forward too, and the compliments only made you feel better about it.

After everyone finished eating, and cleared their plates, chairs scraped against the wood of the floor as everyone prepared to go about their daily business.

“Wait!” Percy shouting, using his wand to spell everyone back into their chairs. “Nobody leave this table until we discuss my birthday party details.”

Theses past few weeks your brain had been so focused on Ron that you had forgotten Percy’s huge birthday party that was taking place at the Burrow next week. From the guilty expressions of everyone else around the table, you could tell they had forgotten too.

“I want this party to be perfect,” Percy said. “My bosses are coming to this party, as is Penelope, so I will not tolerate any shenanigans.” He fixed his eyes on the twins and gave them an icy glare. “I mean it, no funny business.”

Fred and George saluted him, shouting “yes mother” before jumping out of their chairs and running to their room. A memory flashed in your head from the beginning of summer. The twins were showing you fireworks in their room, “special fireworks for Percy’s party” they had said. There was definitely going to be some shenanigans taking place.

Increasingly interested about what kind of pranks the twins were going to pull on Percy, you excused yourself from the table and followed them upstairs. You were about to knock on their door before it swung open and Fred dragged you inside.

“Can I have a sneak peek?” you asked them giddily as soon as the door closed behind you. Apart from the twins, you were the most excited about their funny products and pranks they always pulled. You knew Percy’s party wasn’t going to disappoint.

Instead of reciprocating your excitement, the twins traded nervous glances.

“What is it?” you asked them. You felt a strange sense of deja vu to the time when they picked you up to drive you to the Burrow in the beginning of summer. They were hiding something from you then, and they were certainly hiding something from you now.

“So we take it you’re not going to tell Ron about your unconditional love for him anytime soon?” George asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face. Fred was ringing his hands nervously next to him.

“That is correct,” you responded flatly.

“Well, you see,” Fred began, “When we ordered these special fireworks for Percy’s party, we assumed you two would be dating and in love by the time of the party. And the thing is, there’s no refunds on the fireworks, so we kind of have to use them.” He spoke so fast that the words were tumbling together in your head.

“Okay…what does that mean? What do the fireworks have to do with Ron and I?” you asked, getting increasingly more upset by the moment.

The twins must have sensed your anger because they traded a quick glance before assuring you “Okay, never mind, love, everything is under control,” Fred promised.

“Yep, totally under control,” George said, steering you out of the room. You didn’t even register what they were saying before you were standing in the hallway.

“What aren’t you telling me?” you asked, eyes narrowing into a glare at the twins.

They both gulped nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n, everything is fine. Percy’s party will be full of lots of laughs and fun,” Fred promised, before promptly shutting the door in your face. Once again, you got deja vu.

And with that, you left the twins room, feeling even more confused about your relationship with Ron than ever.

                                                                                              …

The next week was frantic, hectic, and insane as you all scrambled to prepare for Percy’s big party. Decorations needed to be made, food needed to be cooked, and you totally forgot to get Percy a present. After a day trip to Diagon Alley, you had returned home with a bag of more owl food for Dite and a magical watch for Percy. Despite all of the high energy and excitement in the house, the twins words still weighed on you. The party was quickly approaching and you had yet to “confess your unconditional love” to Ron. What would happen if you didn’t? You didn’t even want to think about it.

It was the night before Percy’s party, and you were in the garden helping Bill string up lights around the outdoor tables. You and Bill had been spending a lot more time together over the past week. Bill had always opted to help you in whatever decoration or cooking you were tasked with for that day. Although you could tell that made Ron grumpy, you tried to ignore it. Your feelings were confusing enough without trying to unpack Ron’s jealousy at the moment.

You wobbled on the chair you were standing on as you tied the last string of lights around the nearest tree branch. After you finished, you put your hands on your hips and took a look around the garden. It looked amazing. 10 tables were arranged in a neat circle around the yard, completed with white table clothes and centerpieces with Percy’s photo in the middle. You bought a couple packs of muggle Christmas lights to hang from the trees to illuminate the area, which Mr Weasley was very happy about. He spent about 2 hours asking you about the mechanics behind muggle electricity.

There was a long table for the buffet to be served at and a short circular table for Percy’s gifts to be placed on. At the corner of the garden the twins had set up a firing booth for the fireworks. To be totally honest, the decoration fit more for a wedding than a birthday party, but Percy wanted things to be perfect, so the family followed his decoration ideas to a tee.

While being distracted by observing your handiwork, you weren’t really paying attention to what was happening behind you. This was unfortunate because Harry and Ron were practicing disarming charms right behind you.

“Y/n, look out!” you heard someone yell behind you. Whipping around towards the voice, you saw a red ball of sparks sailing towards you from the end of Harry’s wand. How did Harry always manage to accidentally attack you?

You dove from your chair to avoid the sparks, and were fully expecting to land roughy in the grass. Instead, you felt strong arms wrap around you to prevent you from hitting the ground. You looked up to see none other than Bill Weasley as your knight in shining armour.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Bill didn’t let his arms drop from around you.

“Anytime,” he replied with a grin. His arms were still wrapped around you when you heard angry footsteps marching towards you.

“Get your hands off her, you prat,” you heard Ron’s voice say. Bill’s arms dropped from your sides as you both turned to face Ron.

“Calm down, Ron,” Bill told him.

Ron glared at his older brother. “Stop flirting with her, she’s my best friend,” he said sternly.

Your heart hurt. You wanted Ron to be jealous because he liked you, not because you were just his best friend.

“He can flirt with me if he wants.” The words were out of your mouth before you could even filter it.

Ron’s gaze snapped towards you and you almost had to take a step back from their intensity.  "Do you want him to?“ He asked you, his voice strained.

The answer was easy. No. You knew you didn’t want Bill to flirt with you. He had been your first crush and he was beyond attractive, but he wasn’t Ron. The only person you wanted was Ron. You said those words not because you wanted Bill, but because you wanted Ron to stop acting possessive if he didn’t even love you back. It just hurt too much for him to act like your boyfriend if he was never going to be.

"Ron, I’m sorry,” Bill said, mediating the situation. “I know you and y/n have something together, I shouldn’t have overstepped. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

It won’t happen again.

That’s exactly what Ron told you after the night he had taken the love potion. The night that made you believe that maybe he did have the same feelings for you. But in the end, he regretted the moment that you had loved so much.

It won’t happen again.

Tears crowded your vision and you tried your best to blink them away, you were not about to cry in front of him and show him just how much power he had over you and your emotions. But soon there were hot tears slipping down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Bill and Harry exchanged nervous glances as you and Ron just continued staring at each other. They both took a couple steps away to give you and Ron the space you needed to hash things out. Ron was breathing heavily, obviously still angry from the flirting between you and his brother. But you were angry too, angry that he didn’t want you the way you wanted him.

“I don’t want you flirting with my brother,” he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not your choice if I do.”

Ron bristled at your comment, taking another step closer to you. You could practically feel the heat and anger radiating off of him.

“You know, you’ve really been pissing me off these past couple weeks,” he said. “You prance around making breakfast in the mornings, but in reality all you’re doing is trying to get with Bill. It’s so fucking frustrating! I’m your best friend, we were supposed to be together every day you visited, but instead you found someone better to spend your time with.”

God, he was thick.  You told him that.

“I’m not trying to get with Bill, you dumb git!” you shouted back. Why couldn’t he see that he was the only one you wanted. Bill hadn’t even crossed your mind this summer, your heart was too full of Ron as it is.

At this point, you were practically nose to nose with him, your shouting words bringing you closer and closer towards each other.

Ron mimicked you from earlier and rolled his eyes. It was beyond infuriating. You set your jaw and clenched your hands as you tried not to yell more.

“Oh of course you’re not. You just spend every waking moment with him and barely hang out with me, but sure you’re not trying to get with him,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Now it was your turn to get angry. “Oh really? I’m the one to blame right now?” You shouted at him. The words were hot rolling off your tongue.

“You’re the one who treats me so poorly! You cuddle me in your bed, and then run out the next morning. You almost kiss me and then act like it didn’t happen! You told me what happened in your room was a mistake,” the last sentence flew out of you, the anger just boiling and boiling up towards your breaking point.

Even though you knew it wouldn’t do you any good, you kept talking. “Don’t you dare try to put blame on me for this summer going to shit, because it’s not my fault Ron! It’s not my fault you’re jealous of Bill, it’s not my fault things aren’t the same between us, and it’s not my fault you don’t love me back!”

Both of you froze as the words left your mouth. You wanted Ron to say something, needed him to say something, but he remained silent. You couldn’t read his emotions and it was going to drive you crazy.

Ron stared at you, his eyes full to the brim with turbulent emotions that you couldn’t read. All he did was shake his head.

“I don’t want you with Bill,” he finally said.

“You’re not my boyfriend! You’ve made that perfectly clear!” You shouted back, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Ron raked his hands through his messy hair, obvious frustrated. “If I were your boyfriend…” he started. “If I were your boyfriend… I wouldn’t….” He glanced up at you and the words stopped forming at his mouth. You had tear streaks on your face and your eyes were still watery. The look of you must have shaken him too much for him to continue speaking.

“But you’re fucking not! So stop acting like you are, because it hurts too much,” you responded, all the fire gone from your argument. Instead it was replaced with a sad silence, the only sounds were the rustle in the tree branches and your occasional sniffle.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, taking a step closer with his hand out to you, almost like he was thinking of reaching out to you.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stay there, letting him reach out to touch you. It was clear he didn’t love you back, so you couldn’t stay and let him hold you when there wasn’t any hope. You backed away from him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

“You did. You do,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If not for Ron’s body suddenly becoming stiff, you would have thought he didn’t hear you.

“Y/n, please…” he began, but no words followed. You shook your head again before turning and running back inside to the Burrow.

Nobody moved when you entered the dimly lit house. The family was sitting around the crackling fire, chatting with one another. But all talk stopped as soon as you entered.

Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you tried to make yourself presentable.

“Sweetheart,” Mrs Weasley said with that loving tone of hers only a mother could have, “are you alright?”

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew none of them believed you.

“I’m just a little tired is all, I think I’m going to head up to bed,” you said, before climbing the stairs as quickly as possible.

As soon as you entered your makeshift room in the attic, you slammed the door shut behind you. You couldn’t even make it to the bed before you crumbled onto the ground, your back pressed against the door. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you buried your head in your arms and let yourself cry.

Sobs racked your body as you replayed the conversation from outside. Ron didn’t want you. He didn’t love you back. He was angry and jealous, but he still didn’t love you back.

You stayed there, pressed against the door for the next hour. Everyone headed up to bed at some point and Hermione and Ginny came to check on you. They explained how Harry told them about what happened outside but you just asked them to let you be alone for now. Being the good friends they are, they listened to your request, but not before Ginny promised to “beat Ron to a pulp for hurting you” the next morning.

Even Harry came to check on you. He was visibly uncomfortable, crying girls were never his strong suit (as you could remember from his first kiss with Cho Chang) but he still managed to give you a comforting hug. You thanked him and he left almost as quickly as he arrived.

You got ready for bed in a trance, your eyes now swollen from the crying. Slipping on your pajamas, you barely noticed you were throwing on the vintage band shirt Ron had gotten you for a gift earlier. This only made you cry more. Dite landed on your shoulder as you lay in your bed. She affectionately pecked your ear and nuzzled her feathers against your cheek.  

“I’m okay, Dite,” you told her, petting her soft feathers. Your fingers traced the black heart on her head. Ron bought you an owl named Aphrodite, with a heart literally on her feathers, but he couldn’t even tell you he loved you. These mixed signals made your head and heart both throb.

You fell asleep fitfully, waking up every couple of hours and tossing and turning in bed. Tomorrow was Percy’s party, and you had to be okay for it. You couldn’t let Ron know just how much he had hurt you. You would be fine tomorrow. You would be fine, just like you had been these past few weeks. You would be fine.

Knowing that my history of trauma has main character energy makes me feel better about it tbh

Prompt #42

“You left everything behind and for what ? You had such a good life, you had everything everyone would dream of !”

The tension rose in the air and person B looked back with an expression of distrust, distress, and pure anger. With gritted teeth they take a jagged breath before clenching their fists.

“Well maybe it wasn’t as perfect as you thought it was ! Maybe it was hell on earth for MEandI had to escape !”

The sudden change in tone throws person A off guard as they find themselves flinching to the new, and very much aggressive tone. Their face temporarily softening before hiding away behind a thin curtain of false courage, ready to die on the hill they didn’t even stand for.

Prompt #40

“And even through it all, all the hardships, all the pain - you’re right back where you started”

“What ? — what the hell are you talking about ?!”

“Look around [name] ! No one is here, everyone is gone - they’re safe..but you’re not, just as it was before”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“But I do, the sad little train wreck, love must not be affordable for you - you spend it all for others but no one gives you a cent. And now they just - poof - gone”

Prompt #20

“Why don’t you accept that you’re human too ?! We all make mistakes you don’t have to torture yourself over them !”

Hero raised his voice unintentionally, with Villian not being able to react as fast as he once did. Shaking his head as he forced himself to keep going.

“Because I’m a monster, like you - and everyone else said,”

Hero felt his heart break, was he what caused this sudden decline ?

“No you’re not - I should’ve been trying to help you..not fight you - I made it worse with all of this ! You’re not a monster ! You’re just misguided and I can help you if you just let me,”

“I don’t deserve help,, from anyone”

Prompt #13

“A vague description of me ? Funny, you think that’s enough to understand me as you do claim to want”

“We can make it all better - you don’t have to be like this [villain] !”

“Don’t you know the old saying ? Good cannot exist without evil ? You’ll be out of a job if it weren’t for me”

“Please - I don’t care - I don’t care about my job ! I care about you,, ok ?!”

“Such aggression - so much emotion, I love it - one of the reasons I’m the way I am,, you just got too attached”

Prompt #12

“If you feel good doing good, why do you look so miserable ?”

“Miserable ? What do you mean ? I’m not-“

“Oh save your breath, I can sense the internalized insecurities and depression from here, been through some shit - want to protect others because no one protected [hero] when they needed it the most,”

“….”

“How was that ? Did I hit just in the right spot ? Did I get it correct ?”

“You smug fucking bastard —“

“You didn’t deny it”

Prompt #10

“Don’t look at me like that !”

“Look at you like what ?”

“Look at me like you see anything in me ! It’s..it’s not gonna fucking work - ”

“But I do see something in you, I see so much of everything I love about you”

Prompt #9

“Everything I touch feels light and weightless, and then the moment I can hold it to keep it, to get to know it - When I can somehow get close to it,, it’s gone. And then I’m alone with my thoughts all over again,”

I’m sodding and crying. This is why I can’t read angst! People are to good a writing and I see myself in it and then boom I’m feeling what I read. You might be wondering why don’t I just stop have way through? Because I literally can’t it’s like a from of addiction. ✌️

I’m those close To making angsty fics. It’s always in my mind!

View on Twitter

Very good thread, analyzing 3Hopes character designs vs FE3H, and symbolism for Byleth’s influence, for Ignatz, Marianne, and Claude.

“kiss me, kill me.”

Mitski screaming into her guitar

Just a little doodle. Got a little angsty but doesn’t have much of a meaning. Could be good for a fanfiction cover in the future.

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it’s sword

//Someone said that they would be interested in this AU being turned into a fanfiction. If you know who you are, well, here you go, dear reader.//

-

It was funny. 

The cost of not abiding by one’s own nature was usually dissatisfaction. It usually was a sense of emptiness. Lack of self identity, if their nature was that big of a part of themselves. However, with time, you will either get eaten alive by it, or you will surpress, and control it. It depended on determination and the will or drive to accomplish such a difficult task. 

Try as he might, Mammon usually failed at self control. 

He had a hard time controlling his sin, because he was too busy trying to help his siblings with what they needed. 

The sin rested within him, and was acted on as it started to set the buzzing off in his mind that he wanted something. ‘That flower looks so pretty. Take it. Take it for yourself, no one is looking.’ It almost always resulted in theft. 

It started out so small at first. So seemingly insignificant.

So miniscule and laughable. 

Like most things, though- flowers became objects of value. Objects of value became actual money. He tried. Really he did. He tried so hard to make the urges go away, but even so, he doesn’t have time to try and seek help to slow his sin down. 

He doesn’t help, or the patience, or the energy for it. 

That brought him to the pit of constant annoyance he was within now. He had pulled himself to a hault. Trying desperately to ignore his sin as he barracaded himself in his room, covered himself in blankets, and blocked his view from anything other than the dakrness. 

The darkness, though, didn’t stop his yearning imagination. 

Gold. Gold and jewels, and glimmering objects. Love, and affection, and attention. There were so many things he was greedy for. Physically, and emotionally. No matter what he did, he wasn’t satisfied in life. Both because he was incompetant, and because of his constant yearning for MORE. He can’t be happy with 'some’ or 'enough’. He can’t be happy with 'for now’ or 'later’. 

He wants it. 

He longs for it.

He does his damndest to acquire it, at the cost of his brothers and sometimes his friends’ patience. He tried to gain what he yearns for any way he knows how, because that is the only way he will get it. 

Stopping these sensations feel worse that being caste down to the depths of the devildom by his father, and the angels of which serve him. He will always say that he doesn’t regret following Lucifer down here. Lucifer is his brother. They are all his brothers. He would do it again, even if he had a chance at a better life, and better treatment. 

He knew damn well that the way he was treat in his family was not fair. 

However, he has no room to complain… does he? 

He would have to endure whatever pain he could so he could better himself. Even if it meant that he would suffer. He could do it for them. He WOULD do it for them. 

Closing his eyes, he made a silent promise to himself, and he clenched his hands together. He wasn’t going to act on his greed anymore. If he did… he would severely punish himself. 

No matter what.

-

Resting under the covers of his bed, Mammon kept his hands under his rump, the tingling in his fingers had not ceased and it had been over a month. They twitched and jolted. He desperately wanted to take anything that wasn’t his. The gnawing in his mind from the sin that was a part of him mocked his every move. It tried to nag on him, and persuade him to give up. 

He felt cold. 

Too cold. 

Everything hurt. 

It spun, and made him feel nauseus.

'Come on, steal something. You know you want to. Treat yourself, for working so hard… there is a snack cake in the freezer Beel got. Don’t you think it looked good?’ a small voice coaxed in his mind. 'Go and take it for yourself, It’s not like he doesn’t have anything else to eat~' 

Mammon shivered, and bit his lip, before digging his nails into the mattress under him. He shook his head no, which only agitated him. The buzzing getting louder and louder. 

As his internal turmoil continued- the man only knit his eyebrows closer together, and grunted. Any and all thoughts he was having before that point were halted for a mere few seconds as he heard a voice calling out to him from the hallway. 

“Mammon, get out here. Lucifer is complaining about you not doing something and it’s getting annoying. Get it done so he will shut up.” Good to hear from you too, Satan. 

The second eldest brother merely dug his nails into his mattress again, and bit back a groan- before pulling the blankets off of his head, and inching his way toward the door of his room. He stood in front of it, just staring for a few seconds as he fidgets his hands in his pants pockets. Tapping his fingers on his legs, grasping ot the cloth- anything to keep them from being out in the open, where he could just grab whatever was in the open. 

He quickly took his right hand out of his pocket, opened the door, and put it back in his pocket, before using his foot to push it open the rest of the way. He didn’t bother acknowleding the blonde sibling, who stood there looking at him in annoyance. 

he just walked past, and started to make his way to Lucifer’s office. Sadly, that was one of the biggest broblem areas for him. On top of that… his chest was starting to feel funny. 

There was a small burst of what could be described as congestion..? But then it subsided again. Mammon’s fingers were grasping at the cloth in his pockets again, trembling not out of fear, but still out of self restraint. 

He opened the door to Lucifer’s office, and walked into the room, keeping his eyes on the floor as he avoided looking around the well decorated space. He could almost hear the subconscious voice within him again, the buzzing in his head spiking as he just knew how much cool and pretty stuff was in this room. 

'Stop thinking about it… stop… stop… no.. don’t look around.’ he was talking down to himself mentally, profusely sweating as his nails dug at his protected flesh

“Mammon. I asked you to go and get something earlier today. Care to tell me why you didn’t get what I asked of you completed?” the man glared to his younger sibling, who, in turn, kept staring at the ground. 

“S-sorry. I forgot…” he tried to leave the excuse brief. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

His chest was starting to hurt again. 

'Come on, steal something. Take it. He has all of these cool things, you need to treat yourself too, you know. It’s not like your brother is going to.’ the idea coaxed. It mocked him. 

The white haired demon leans forward, feeling pressure in his throat, and a splitting pain pulsate through his head as he bit back a bit of a yelp. He shook his head, and kept his hands in his pockets, feeling it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

“Mammon! Answer my question!” a stern, annoyed voice interjected. It slashed through his thoughts with a mighty tone, and made the white haired demon flinch. That, though, was a mistake. The second he leans forward from flinching, he felt as thought he was choking. There was something in his thraot- he could feel it there. 

But how? He wasn’t getting sick. He didn’t eat anything recently..! 

He quickly looks up to the red eyed demon with teary eyes, not willing to try and ask him for help. Instead, he dashed out of the room, and slammed the door behind himself- before making a b-line to the bathroom that rested in the hallway between a closet, and another room that was hardly used. 

Locking the door  behind himself, and falling to his knees, Mammon started to gag, and wheeze, trying to get his air back. His face had darkened, and his eyes wouldn’t stop watering from the lack of desired oxygen. His head was pounding, and he coudl feel his heart racing. It hurt. It really fucking hurt. Fuck!

He struggled, and struggled, gagging, and choking on the slightest bits of air that were coming through. 

Eventually, he coughed up a mass of blood into the toilet, and something heavier made a firm 'tinkk’ noise as it hit the whitened porcelain. 

After taking about half a minute to breathe, and clear his clouded vision- Mammon concentrated on the bloodied water of the toilet, and spots what had made such a heavy noise. 

There, resting int the water, and washed of the blood that had followed it from the ailing demon’s throat- was a brilliant golden pearl. 

((To Be Continued))

Moon Knight Masterlist

Mood board was made by me.

All of my y/n’s are inclusive and are given minimal description.

OSCAR ISSAC MISC. CHARACTER MASTERLIST

= Smutty Goodness

= Dark Themes/ Angst / Triggery Material

  = Fluffy Goodness

______________________________________________________________

The Knight and the Pawn DARK! Mini Series (incomplete)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3Part 4 Part 5Part 6

You were nothing more than a pawn to him, and you didn’t deserve that.

Love Bites (requested)

You go to give Steven his lunch on his first day as a tour guide, which ends up in an interesting series of events.

Pawn (Moon Knight x Reader)

So this is Angst. I’ve probably watched moon knight at least 5 times now. I have so many theories and headcannons about this show I love this so much. (especially Steven Grant aka Best Boi)

Also I haven’t slept in a while so have fun!

(I also hope I did the switches right)

COMPLETE MASTERLIST / FANDOM LIST / LINKS TO MY OTHER ACCOUNTS!

It was supposed to be a simple mission. 

In and out. 

You, Layla, and Marc with the assistance of Konshu got a tip that a group of Ammit followers, a seemingly small group from what it entailed, were targeting this artifact located in a museum in New York. Konshu said that while the artifact wasn’t nearly as important as what the followers believed. It could still cause harm to whoever they chose to use it on. So, naturally, the group decided to scope it out and put an end to it. 

It was supposed to be a small group. 

You guys got to the site only for it to be an ambush, a lot more followers than what was originally entailed. Marc had luckily already been wearing the suit. However, you and Layla weren’t as fortunate. While both you and Layla were very good at combat, you still had to be careful. Unlike Marc, you didn’t have sacred healing armor from a Moon God. However, despite being careful you ended up finding yourself cornered between three of the followers. Your gun only had one bullet left and you were sure that one dude broke a rib or something when he landed a hit. You weren’t in the best of shape and you were waiting for him to have your back. 

Even as they beat the shit out of you, you were confident he would have your back. 

As they landed punch after punch, kick into your ribs that made you see brown and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, you were sure he would come. 

He was supposed to have your back. 

Like you always had his. 

When it became clear he wasn’t coming back you fought harder, breaking more things in the process, and luckily with cleverness you managed to get two of the followers. The last one didn’t put up much of a fight after you killed the two people with him.

When you noticed the place empty except for the bodies of Ammit’s followers a sickening feeling filled you. 

Where were Marc and Layla? 

You gathered what strength you had to look for them a little before deciding to make your way back to where you guys were staying. 

When you got back there you saw your two teammates patching up, Marc didn’t have a scratch, and Layla looked like she had some bruising on her knuckles however Marc was tending to her delicately, devotedly you would say. Marc didn’t even notice when you entered the room looking for the hydrogen peroxide and pain killers, however Layla being the attentive person that she was noticed almost immediately your state. 

“Holy shit,” She said as she made a beeline for you, her curls bouncing, “what in the fuck happened?”

“I’m fine Lay,” You comforted, “I just need some hydrogen peroxide,bandages, pain killers, and a decent amount of sleep and I’ll be right as rain.” You looked behind her and saw Marc’s brown eyes run over your visible injuries. However pissed off you wanted to be at him, you never could be. You barely managed to get Layla to attend to her own injuries when you got to your room where you bandaged yourself up. It was a painful process, the hydrogen burned like all hell in your open wounds, your hands shook wildly as you bandaged those and took those painkillers dry. You knew you should probably drink more water, especially in this case. You no sooner downed the pain killers when you heard a knock at your door. Carefully checking the peep hole only to be met with the stoic expression you know all too well. You opened the door to Marc and motioned him in. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. Regret shown clearly on his face, “I should have been there.”

“You were busy being Moon Knight,” you said, “let’s just not make this a habit, yeah?” You said lightly, wincing as you tried to lay back. Sharp pain shooting through you like lightning. 

“Yeah,” he agreed as he watched your face scrunch in pain, “What’s the damage?” 

“Oh you know, a couple of scratches, bruises, and cuts, and harmless fractured ribs.” You said. 

“So nothing serious.”

“Absolutely.” 

Silence rang throughout the room. You and the dark haired male in front of you have always interacted like this, having known him since before his brother’s untimely death. You also knew Steven and Jake. You had grown to like and love each part of the man in front of you, the good and the bad. 

Not that he ever noticed. 

You could see him look into the mirror next to the dresser, locked in some sort of conversation before turning his eyes back to you. 

“Steven wants to talk to ya,” he said, “he just wants to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I don’t know,” you said unsure, “I don’t really want him to see me like this.”

“He just wants to make sure you’re ok, he’ll be fine, he’s tougher than we give him credit for.” He said. You nod, in that instance you see his demeanor shift into one that is more open, more…Steven. 

Steven immediately went into full Steven mode. Fussing over you, making sure that you were set up and that your injuries tended to adequately. It took Steven some time to get adjusted to seeing blood and bruises regularly, however, once he did it turned out he had a natural gift for tending to people’s needs.  

“Oh dear,” Steven frets, already adjusting the pillow below your head to get you into a better position, “those wankers really did a number on you sweetheart.” You hold on to his hand and look at him. 

“I’m fine Steven, really, let’s just not make this a habit hmn?”

Steven nodded in agreement before looking back at the mirror then back at you. 

“Jake wants me to tell you that he’s sorry as well.”

“Really I’m fine Steven with a V,” You smiled and squeezed his hand to comfort him, “All I need right now I just need to sleep.” After that you bid your good nights before you fell asleep, slipping into the comfortable arms of dreamless sleep. 

—

This is the fifth time. 

Fucking fifth. 

The first two times you were sure they were just accidents, the heat of the moment distracting them. Being cornered, taking most of the heat from your shared opponent while Marc and Layla did what they did best. They made sure to apologize after, promising that it wouldn’t happen again. 

After the third you started to think maybe it was you. 

Maybe if you were stronger, more durable, cleverer, it wouldn’t happen. If only you were smarter you wouldn’t get cornered on missions taking the brunt of it. So you began to brutally train your body, you ran yourself beyond the point of exhaustion. 

The fourth time rolled around and only Layla noticed your state. 

Marc said nothing. 

He looked…disappointed. 

This was the fifth time, you were slowly bleeding out from the deep gash from your leg, luckily the person missed any important muscles and vessels. You were left, again, alone while Marc and Layla were nowhere to be found. You assumed they were already back and were tending to themselves, or Marc tending to Layla more like it. 

With each step you find your temper flaring with the searing pain. You could see what was going on now, clear as fucking day. 

You were bait. 

A goddamn distraction while Marc and Layla got in and got out unscathed or barely. Fire burned behind you as you came to the realization. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, with the burning rage settling in your gut your heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly, nothing but complete sadness settled there. It hurts that no matter how much you’ve been there with him, love him, been both his confidante and his best friend. He would toss you aside for Layla. 

Always Layla. 

You loved her as well, You would’ve given your gun arm if it meant that she lived. You would’ve laid down your life for either of them. 

And the most sick and twisted thing of all. 

Was that even in the midst of your heartbreak and sorrow,

You still would. 

—

Once the gash in your leg was healed enough you quietly grabbed your things. Some part of you wanted to say goodbye to Steven and Jake, you loved them and you had a feeling they didn’t have a part in this, that this was purely Marc. 

You didn’t want to leave, but you knew if you stayed one day you wouldn’t be so lucky. You had been lucky so far, they always missed something vital but that wasn’t a guarantee for next time. Next time you could be so seriously injured that you won’t be able to walk back to get what you need for treatment, you could die. 

And you refused to die as someone’s bait. 

Once you reach the nightstand you find two pictures that haunt you now. One was a group photo of you, Marc, and Layla. The other was an old picture of you and Marc, you both were still children and nothing in the world mattered more than each other. The angry part of you wanted to smash it, leave the glass everywhere and leave. But the larger, more sentimental part wanted to keep these pictures, since despite everything you still loved them with all your heart. 

You were so engrossed in the photos you didn’t notice the door opening. 

“What’s this?” 

You turned and saw the mess of dark curls leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, the hardened look in his midnight eyes tipped you off. 

Marc. 

You look away from him, not being able to look at him longer. You stuffed the photos in your bag before moving on. 

You reached the pair of jeans on the bed only for Marc’s hand to grab your wrist firmly. 

“Stop,” He said you still refused to look at him, “What the hell are you doing.” 

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” You asked shortly before yanking your arm away from him to continue. Before you could stuff more belongings your bag was suddenly halfway across the room, its contents spilling out. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Spector?!” You raised your voice still not looking at him. 

“Me?” He asked incrediously, “what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m not the one fucking leaving for no goddamn reason! I mean, you’re not even fucking looking at me!”

“You’re fucking rich y’know that?” You bitterly laughed, “so fucking rich.” 

“Why the fuck are you laughing?”

“Because I’m fed up.” You said finally looking at him, “I’ve loved you, all parts of you, even the bits you’re ashamed of and hate yourself for. I’ve never hid that fact, not even when we were children.” You admitted, “I resigned myself to the fact that you’ll never feel that way about me, I’m ok with that. I’m glad you love Layla, and I couldn’t be anymore grateful that Layla loves you the way you’ve always deserved to be loved. I can live with that, and I have been. However, something I can’t live with…is you using me as a pawn.” 

Marc starts to open his mouth. 

“Shut up,” you said, “I’m not done.” Marc closes his mouth. 

“The first few times I didn’t think much of it, when really the red signs were right there. I just thought it was a mistake. Hell, at some point I blamed myself for not being stronger.” You could see his eyes fixating on anything but you after that sentence, “But when those people were hurting me, kicking my stomach until I coughed blood and my vision turned everything blurry, my ribs littered in fractures, and bleeding, and bruised. You were supposed to protect me, I’ve always understood Layla was your number 1 priority, but I was your friend, I’ve been your friend since the beginning. Does my loyalty and friendship mean so little to you?”

“No,” Marc said immediately, looking at you fiercely. 

“No Marc,” You said, “you lie to me one more time I’m just fucking going.” 

“It took me the fifth time to realize, you used me, you used me as a goddamn human shield so that Layla wouldn’t get hurt. You were perfectly ok with me getting stabbed and injured, but not Layla. Not your precious Layla…You didn’t even consider the fact that you knew all too damn well that if it ever came to it, I would die for her. I would do it happily, with a goddamn smile on my face because you’re not the only person who loves her. I would’ve done it for you as well you selfish asshole.” You gathered your bag and belongings from the floor, You didn’t even notice the shards of glass and broken picture frames littering the floor. 

“I’m done,” you said, “I loved you, with everything I had in me I did. I would have given my life. But clearly that was one-sided.” You put your duffle strap over your body and made your way past him to the door. 

You’re almost to the main door when your arm gets pulled back, and there’s Marc, his gaze hard but cracking. 

“Don’t you leave me,” he said, his voice gruff and laced with fustration, “Don’t you fucking leave me.” 

You yanked your arm out of his hold, “You think grabbing my arm will make me stay?” You were met with silence, you went to reach out for the doorknob when you felt his calloused hands hold yours softly. Completely different from two seconds ago. 

“Please sweetheart,” Steven said, his voice soft and pleading, “we need you.” 

You turned to Steven, you could see it in his eyes. He knew what was going on, but Marc kept him quiet. It wasn’t Steven’s fault. 

You brought your hands to his face and wiped the tears that already had formed. You knew what Marc was doing, it was a low blow. Letting Steven front, hoping to change your mind. For him. 

You gently kiss Steven’s eyelids. His salty tears coated your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. 

“I don’t blame you my Steven with a V. I will miss you and Jake, and don’t you or him ever hesitate if you need anything. But I need time away from Marc.” Steven nodded, he sniffled and let go. 

“Marc’s not happy ojos de angel,” Jake warned, “Steven and I will try to hold on to the body as much as we can. But when we slip, he will search for you. He will not stop.” 

“Thank you Jake,” You thanked and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I will miss you.” 

And with that you exited the flat and onto the busy streets of London, your heart breaking with every step. However, at some point, each step got easier, and for the first time you felt like you could breathe. 

You felt like you could sleep.

“I don’t know which version of me you loved, but it sure ain’t the real one.”