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johnnysnostril · 3 years

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nct 127 as royals [18+]

♔ kingdoms + empires ♖

this has got to be one of my favorite scenarios so far. ive put together a little something for the people who are obsessed with the royal + medieval times. let me know which kingdom or empire you’re in! enjoy, xoxo

empire of

❅ ELPIDA ❅

colors: yellow + gold

moto: “be delicate like a flower, hopeful like an angel.”

your position: the page ☾❀|❀☽

cares for the royal clothing

assist with dressing the royals

pick out ball gowns and attire for royal dances/weddings

emperor taeyong’s trustee: <<doyoung>>

shields you from witnessing illegal matters

protects you from unexpected dangers

accompanies you to royal fittings

his secret: you are his mistress. he comes to you whenever he’s feeling vulnerable and weak. you’ve been sleeping with the emperor for a few months now and you’re starting to fall in love with him. you want to admit your feelings to him but you know that he’ll never leave the empress just for a page.

sexual desire: <<blindfolding/handcuffing>>

look at you- tied up and blinded. now, i can explore your body without interruptions.

empire of

✤ IRIS ✤

colors: emerald green + white

moto: “listen to the gods- they will never lead you wrong.”

your position: the physician ☤

in charge of the royals health

partake in surgical procedures

assist in healing the wounded knights

emperor taeil’s trustee: <<taeyong>>

supplies you with out of country medicine

shows you how to make potions

provides you with illegal knives to perform difficult surgeries

his secret: emperor taeil is planning on poisoning the empress. with your help, along with his trustee- he is ending his arranged marriage, that he never wanted to be apart of. with her gullible attitude, the empress believes you are no harm. little does she know, that you are the one who will witness her last breath.

sexual desire: <<submission>>

tell daddy how much you love it when he makes you feel helpless.

empire of

ᕯ IPHIOS ᕯ

colors: cream + brown

moto: “show no mercy, show no fear.”

your position: the squire ⚘

apprentice to the knights

witnesses training for battles

eyes and ears of the empire

emperor johnny’s trustee: <<jaehyun>>

teaches you secret death pressure points

reveals all hidden secrets of the knights

shows you secret passage ways through the castle

his secret: he’s cheating on the empress with a queen from another kingdom. somehow, you ended up being his second mistress- landing the position of the squire, by promising to protect his secret from the knights- who are ordered to kill the queen mistress per the empress. although the empress has knowledge of emperor johnny cheating on her, she had no idea about you. and you and emperor johnny will keep it that way.

sexual desire: <<master/slave>>

you follow directions so well, don’t you? master will have his way with you and you’ll behave- like a good little slave, won’t you?

kingdom of

❈ THPHIC ❈

colors: peach + silver

moto: “all that is gold, shall be silver.”

your position: the watchman ✇

watches over the castle

report suspicious behavior

create safety tactics

king yuta’s trustee: <<jungwoo>>

supplies you with foreign bombs

helps you plan stakeouts

provides you with secret information about other kingdoms

his secret: his mother was a servant to his royal father. his blood is not complete royalty. you and jungwoo are the only ones who know his secret- the two of you protect it with your lives. every now and then, you and king yuta will sleep together- as a thank you for keeping his secret.

sexual desire: <<public sex>>

and while everyone is watching, you’d be screaming my name- begging me for more.

kingdom of

✵CHARMOLIPIL ✵

colors: black + burgundy

moto: “never let them see your weak side- show them what they will fear.”

your position: the messenger ∺

relays messages from the king to other kingdoms

witness court trials

bring threatening news to the knights attention

king doyoung’s trustee: <<taeil>>

provides you with weapons that you aren’t licensed to have

helps you falsify information to threaten other kingdoms

supplies you with poison potions

his secret: you witnessed him kill his father so he could take over the kingdom. king doyoung has demanded you be the messenger, running to other kingdoms to let them know that the king is finally dead. he uses you as his secret weapon- having secret late night meeting with you, informing you of your weekly work. as these meeting progress through the months, you start to slowly fall in love with him- letting him know that you’ll do anything to keep his secret and to cover him. the king is slowly catching feelings for you but won’t show his true feelings just yet.

sexual desire: <<threesomes>>

the both of you look so wonderful on your knees. now, please me.

empire of

✾ HALARA ✾

colors: royal blue + plum

moto: “wait for the perfect time, then attack.”

your position: the treasurer ∞

in charge of tax collecting

tracking debit with other empires

monitors the state of the empire

emperor jaehyun’s trustee: <<mark>>

helps you hide stolen money

forges numbers for the books

providing transportation and housing for your escape

his secret: you and emperor jaehyun have been stealing money from the empire. the two of you have convinced the empress that there is a traitor among the castle. emperor jaehyun has planned the escape for the both of you- leaving the empire behind for the empress, as he has fallen deeply in love with you.

sexual desire: <<erotic spanking/servant play>>

ah- you’ve disobeyed me again, servant. bend over, you know what time it is.

kingdom of

❂ CHRYSEOS ❂

colors: red + violet

moto: “stay gold, always.”

your position: the marshal 〶

ensures that the kingdoms laws are enforced

responsible for securing the kingdoms boarders

organizes patrol and responds to threats

king jungwoo’s trustee: <<haechan>>

protects your illegal work regarding protection of the king

assists you with hiring hitmen for the ones who threaten the king

provides you with handguns/weapons for the knights

his secret: you and king jungwoo have been legally married in another country, for five years. the queen has no idea that she is technically a mistress. you plan to hire a hitman to take out the queen, robbing her of her jewls and kidnap the king- to live your life in your home country; where no one knows of your work with the king.

sexual desire: <<roleplay>>

you look exquisite in royal clothing, my dear. what would be even more delicious, is you bent over the queens royal chair.

empire of

✥ MERAKI ✥

colors: gold + black

moto: “take everything, forgive no one and leave no trace.”

your position: the spymaster ⌖

observes the empires criminal elements

spies on other kingdoms+empires

uses collected information to protect the king

emperor mark’s trustee: <<yuta>>

supplies you with illegal torture devices

provides you with secret maps to other kingdoms+empires to break into their castles

helps you protect the king

his secret: you are his long lost love. as he was promised to another female at birth, he fell in love with you as a young man. you were brought into the castle by his father who was the emperor, as an orphan child of a passing village. before the emperor’s passing, you promised to watch after the castle and his reigning son. every now and then, you and emperor mark find yourselves in deep love with each other, but you can’t bring yourself to destroy the lee empire with your own desire.

sexual desire: <<face sitting>>

you’d look even more beautiful, straddling my face. i bet that you wouldn’t be able to ride my tongue without making a sound.

kingdom of

۞ AGAPI ۞

colors: baby blue + gray

moto: “everything in the world is about sex, except sex. sex is about power.”

your role in the castle: the steward ❦

in charge of daily management and supplies needs for the castle and the king

responsible for financial and legal matters concerning the castles estates

represents the king in court, while he is away

king haechan’s trustee: <<johnny>>

covers up your mistakes

protects you from unwanted information being released

prints money illegally and uses it to help you pay for supplies

his secret: king haechan is planning to have the queen assassinated so you can fill her role once she is gone. johnny is the only person who knows that you and the king are sleeping together. although king haechan doesn’t know just yet, you are pregnant with his son-

sexual desire: <<domination and rough sex>>

no one will be able to hear you cry out in this dungeon, my love. but, i do think you need something to occupy that throat of yours.

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little-diable · 3 years

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Five times - Draco Malfoy (fluff)

Request by my sweet willow-lillies Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a "five times the reader realized she loved him, and one time he realized he loved her" with draco malfoy ? 🥺👉👈 I just love the idea that he would blurt his feelings as soon as he figures out hes in love with the reader (also if you want to do this with anyone else I dont mind!)

Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: five times (y/n) can’t stop falling deeper for the prince of Slytherin and the time he finally makes (y/n) his.

I. The time he had to catch her as she was falling

“Stop staring”, Jasmin mumbled, eyes following (y/n)s gaze, resting on the silvery haired prince of Slytherin. “I’m not staring”, she found her friends smirking features, (y/n)s cheeks were flushed, hating her body for betraying her like that, “is that drool? (Y/n) you have some-”, she slapped her friends hand away, rolling her eyes at the giggles that left Jasmin.

(Y/n) couldn’t remember a day where she hadn’t been into Draco, mesmerized by his bright eyes, the mysterious aura that followed him around and that breathtaking smile he shot her every single time she walked past him.

Though she had barely exchanged a word with him in the last five years she got pulled in deeper and deeper, there was no way out, even though she knew that Draco wasn’t interested in her.

Jasmin tugged on (y/n)s hand, “come on, I don’t want to be late for Snape's class”, she had to shake her head, to fully rip herself out of her daydream, stopping herself from finding his entrancing features once again.

“Did you finish your essay?”, (y/n) combed through her bag, mumbling the words as she tried to find her homework, not noticing how she slowly but surely was running into a broad chest. She didn’t have any time to register what was going on as she began to sway, blinking a few times till her eyes fell upon Draco, hands trying to reach for him as she fell backwards.

“I got you”, he had his arms slung around her waist, stabilizing her before she’d actually crash down onto the floor. Sparks were shooting up her spine, skin tingling from his tight grip. “I’ll see you later (y/n), try not to run into anybody else”, his smirk made her smile, nervously chuckling as he squeezed her side one last time, brushing past her.

II. The time they had to share an umbrella

“Alright everybody, listen up, I want you on your best behavior”, McGonagall’s voice reverberated through Hogwarts old school ground, eyes focused on her tiny frame. They were just about to make their way to Hogsmeade, about to indulge themselves with rare sweets, chocolate frogs and butter beer.

A smile tugged on (y/n)s lips, she loved afternoons like this, finally some time to relax, time to keep themselves distracted from the essays that were waiting to be written, the exams that would come up in the following days.

Even though she tried to keep her eyes off his frame, (y/n) could tell that he was close, mind focused on the expensive scent of his cologne, the laugh that would wake the butterflies in her tummy. “(Y/n)”, his voice made her freeze, turning towards his tall frame, eyes instantly hooked onto his bright ones, “come here”, Draco reached a hand out for her to take.

She hadn’t noticed how rain slowly began to pour down on them, wetting her clothes as her thoughts were still circling around Draco Malfoy. He pulled (y/n) underneath his black umbrella, smiling at her, “are you cold? Do you want my coat?”, his warm breath clashed against her cold cheeks, voice dripping with concern as he watched her shudder.

(Y/n) only shook her head no, she didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself to properly answer him, she’d probably blurt out some embarrassing words anyways. Her heart was rapidly beating, palms sweaty as he pulled her even closer, arm slowly making its way around her waist, trying to keep her warm, somehow.

III. The time he saved her from Snape’s wrath

“(Y/l/n)!”, the deep, emotionless voice ripped her out of her slumber, head still placed on her books as her eyes fluttered open, trying to locate her surroundings.

The voice repeated her name, finally pulling her back into reality, she jumped in her seat, flushed cheeks on full show as she seemed to realize that she had fallen asleep, in Snape’s class. No words rolled off her tongue, her pupils were slightly dilated, insides churning as the professor took a step towards her desk, “am I boring you that much (y/l/n)?”.

Some slurred, incoherent words left her as she tried to sort her thoughts, body burning in exhaustion, she hadn’t been able to catch much sleep in the past few days, mind focused on her upcoming exams. “It’s my fault professor”, Draco's voice made Snape turn towards him, waiting for Malfoy to keep on talking.

“(Y/n) helped me study yesterday, I kept her awake for too long”, his shiny eyes met hers for a glimpse of a moment, winking at her confused self as Snape rolled his eyes, “next time don’t bother your classmates with your problems Malfoy”, his cloak moved with every step the tall professor took, adding to his dark aura.

“Thank you”, (y/n) mouthed, running a trembling hand through her hair, nervously biting her lip as she tried to catch up with Snape’s rambling. Jasmin kicked (y/n)s shin underneath the table, “something going on between you and your lover boy?”, the words made a small, breathless groan spill from (y/n)s lips, “don’t tease me”.

IV. The time he showed her how to dance

Soft music echoed through the room, drowning out the professor's voice as she explained the dance steps, she could already tell that most students were hopeless cases. “Find yourself a partner”, (y/n)’s eyes wandered along her fellow classmates, trying to figure out who she’d ask to be her dance partner, getting distracted by Pansy’s annoying voice.

The Slytherin kept on clinging to Draco, annoyed with his bored seeming self, “no, I already have a partner Pansy”, the words made (y/n)s heart skip a few beats, weight seemed to rest on her shoulders, of course he’d never ask her to be his partner.

She cursed her mind for pushing her into those daydreams that would leave her disappointed and confused every time she’d get pulled back into the harsh reality. Draco grasped (y/n)s wrist, “please tell me you don’t have a partner yet”, he seemed stressed, as if he was trying to run away from something, or rather someone.

“No I don’t”, (y/n) smiled up at him, eyes finding Pansy’s annoyed ones, a fire was burning behind them, probably already plotting (y/n)s death. “Perfect”, Draco began to pull her into the middle of the room, surrounded by a few other couples, waiting for the music to start.

“I don’t really know how to dance”, it was just above a whisper, eyes wandering down his frame, onto his feet, wondering if he’d change his mind and find another partner. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead”, Draco pulled a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling at her as they began to move to the music, swaying around the room, pulled into their own bubble of happiness, only focused on one another.

V. The time he told her she looked gorgeous

She had her eyes focused on her reflection, smoothing the fabric of her gown, trying to smile at herself, it was the night of the yule ball, a night where she’d be able to let loose, to enjoy some time with her friends. But the thought of seeing Draco with the girl he had asked to be his date broke her heart apart, made (y/n) doubt if she should go down there in the first place.

“Oh no, stop that frown”, Jasmin entered the bathroom, tugging on her friends elbow, “don’t tell me you don’t want to be my date any longer”, she pouted, finally making (y/n) smile, chuckling as she pulled her out of the room, down the stairs. By now they could already hear the soft music, the chatter of their classmates as they excitedly stumbled down the stairs.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop herself from searching for his frame, lips slightly parted as she took in the sight of his suit, the gelled back hair and that addicting laugh that rumbled through him as he spoke to his friends. He looked happy, truly did, carrying that bright smile on the lips she so desperately wanted to kiss.

“(Y/n)”, Jasmin sighed, shooting her friend a sad smile as she pushed a glass into her hand, “want to dance?”, Jasmin twirled around in her forest green dress, set on keeping (y/n) distracted, to put a smile onto her lips. Just as (y/n) wanted to reply she felt somebody pinch her sides, “may I have this dance?”, Draco patiently waited for (y/n) to give Jasmin the glass back, wordlessly taking his hand, following him to the dance floor.

“You look gorgeous (y/n)”, Draco's hand wandered down her spine, her skin burned with every touch of his, struggling to process the words he had just spoken.

The time he finally seemed to realize his feelings for her

“You know, it took me a while to realize it, to understand why my heart would suddenly begin to race as you were close, the need to touch you at every given chance. But I think I finally understand what’s going on”, Draco pressed her closer against his chest, hand cupping her cheeks, “do you?”, (y/n)s gaze fell down to his lips, how easy it would be to finally kiss him.

“I do”, Draco softly pressed his lips against hers, smiling at the soft gasp that left her, hands fisting the fabric of his suit, not letting go of him. “I am sorry that it took me this long to realize it”, he mumbled against her lips, kissing her once again before he moved away from her, twirling her around. A soft chuckle bubbled out of her, finally everything seemed to fall into place.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #five times #Tom Felton

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serendipitystation · 3 years

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Holding Hands - a Kanej fanfic

Read it here, too: AO3

Summary: Several times that Inej and Kaz hold hands and what follows. Slow-burn, oneshot.

Length: Short

A/N: Writing for these two is difficult, but that's a testament to Leigh Bardugo's wonderfully complex writing more than anything. Cheers, friends :)

The first time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, they stand together looking down at the ship that will take them far apart from one another. To Inej, it is a miracle, a blessing; to Kaz, it is a gift, a tool for good in hands cleaner than his own. They both understand how their paths are destined to diverge, but there is no peace needing to be made with this. Divergence calls to reunion as light calls to dark. Their souls have been in close quarters long enough that a few thousand miles won't shatter their bond. As they watch a boat unload its newcomers to the city, they feel a joy that only the knowledge of better days can create. The darkness will return, but not today. Today is for joy and reunions and the most shockingly pleasant smile that Inej has ever seen on the face of the lord of the crows. Her happiness knows no end. Any prick of pain in Kaz's soul is easily ignored.

ii.

The second time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, Jesper and Wylan are singing the absolute worst song either of them have ever heard. While Specht helps Inej hire a crew for her ship, she and her parents are staying at the Van Eck home at Wylan's insistence. In the moments during which she leaves her parents' sides, Inej watches Wylan graviate towards the warmth of her father's countenance and Jesper flirt in shameless jest with her mother (he backs off slightly when Inej threatens to revoke his skillet bread priviledges). Kaz is the lone statue in the waving grass- he is cordial and as friendly as he's ever been, which doesn't say much, but he keeps a slight distance. One night, after dinner has been devoured, Wylan picks out a folk tune and sings lightly, while Jesper accompanies him with the most off-key harmonies to be heard any side of Ketterdam. As Inej feels Kaz's discomfort like a fog seeping across the floor, she melts into the shadows of a hallway just slow enough for Kaz to catch on. Under the nearly-dark sky of the back garden, they sit on a bench and watch the stars wink to life. Inej gently eases the glove off Kaz's right hand, feeling him tense up and relax with a slow shudder as the glove comes free. As the discordant sounds of their friends float in the cool air, Inej traces the creases of Kaz's hands and Kaz wills himself to not react, to keep his head above water, to let desire overrule history. Each time they touch, he gets better at floating.

iii.

The third time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, Kaz watches Inej giving orders aboard her ship as they prepare for their maiden voyage. She takes to the role of captain like a fish in water, the surety in her actions a strength she will need as she meets the unyielding sea. If she seems green at all for a captain, her crew know better than to question her due to her reputation as the Wraith, if not for her knives. Kaz can see her in his mind's eye, acting as justice's henchwoman among the waves, a puzzle piece that fits perfectly into its surroundings and completes them. He respects her abilities as much as he loves her. Loves. Kaz's mind has used the word before, yet using it now feels like a revelation. If any god were to call out from the heavens and announce him a Grisha, it would be less discordant to Kaz's nature than love in any form. Still, Kaz knows better than to deny the truth. He loves Inej and, in a few days, he will watch her sail away. When Inej comes to stand beside him, a look of satisfaction on her face, Kaz shakily slips his hand into hers. As he does so, Kaz swears she begins to smile.

iv.

The fourth time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, they are saying goodbye. Kaz doesn't do goodbyes- sentimentality shows weakness and he's long vowed to never look weak again. For Inej, however, he makes an exception, at least in private. In the mist of the morning of the launch, he slips onboard the Wraith and down the bustling deck to the quarters below. When he walks into the captains' quarters, Inej doesn't turn her head- she knows he's there; she could hear his lopsided gait all the way down the hall outside. They trade pleasantries about the ship, the voyage, everything but the inevitable goodbye to be faced. It is Inej who breaks gracefully; as Kaz prepares to leave, she walks up to him until they are but inches apart, takes both his hands, and reassures him that she will return. She can see the ice of his eyes melt and lets him thaw. Inej has known that she loves him for some time- unlike Kaz, her trauma isn't rooted in betrayal and she never feared the vulnerability of caring. Her love is a candle that she chooses to let burn, even as she acknowledges that love and destiny are not one and the same. As Kaz bends towards Inej, his forehead touching hers as light as a feather, the candle's flame grows stronger.

vi.

The sixth time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, Kaz's fingers trace a scar on Inej's arm. They sit in Kaz's office in the Slat, where prying eyes can make no assumptions about anything. Inej spent five months at sea before returning to Ketterdam, a length of time that ticked by at a glacial pace on Kaz's end. After regaling Jesper and Wylan with tales of her exploits upon her return, Inej had stolen away to the quiet safety of the Slat where the company was quieter. As Inej answers Kaz's questions with the patience, she adjusts the buttons at her wrists, revealing a flash of ropy skin on one arm. With a frown that stretches into shadows, Kaz reaches out to gently slide up Inej's sleeve, bringing into light the full fresh scar that zigzags up her arm. Kaz's face settles into its familiar scheming expression as the red of rage clouds his vision. Only Inej's voice, the featherlight sweep of her finger across his creased brow, and the shiver that travels his limbs like lightning bring him back to reality. As he wills the anger to subside, he reviews what he knows to be true; Inej is capable, strong, and not needing to be saved. She's no longer his investment- she's here because she chose him. Why his ego is so unperturbed by it all, he doesn't really know. Until Inej speaks up, Kaz doesn't realize that he's smiling.

viii.

The eighth time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, the ghosts that frequent Kaz's room watch them. Night has long fallen over Ketterdam and the prospect of Inej embarking on her next voyage looms over Inej. Her desire for life has not changed, nor has her mission, though it hurts to leave. Tonight, Inej has lingered far past the setting of the sun in Kaz's company. Getting back to her ship would be no problem- captain or Wraith, she walks the streets free of fear- but she doesn't particularly want to leave. As Kaz removes his waistcoat in his bathroom, Inej lays back on his bed and watches him. Out of the corner of his eye, Kaz catches her gaze and sarcastically offers to share the bed. What he doesn't expect is for her to strip down to her vest and pants tuck herself in. When Kaz puts out the lights and slides into the bed that barely fits them both, there's a strange weight that settles in their chests. They stay apart, both unsure. Then Kaz slips his hands into Inej's and the weight lifts and it feels like the world has fallen into place. They watch the dim light of the city carve through the shadows on the ceiling and, as they fall asleep to each other's breathing, the ghosts take the night off.

xii.

The twelfth time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, their faces are grim in the coal-streaked dawn. The hour for casting off from the harbour approaches the Wraith too fast for anyone's liking, but especially for Kaz. Caring is a weary task and a luxury that shadows can't afford, even as his soul becomes more intertwined with the captain whose knives protect a heart he longs to hear beat next to his. In the light of day and surrounded by the waking city, Kaz looks the part of Dirtyhands, all sharp lines and sharper glances. Inej knows that the persona is just that- a front crafted with years of practice, however jaded and survivalist he has become. She can see his mortality in the tells only she knows- the set of his mouth, the crag of his brow, the care with which he watches the crew. She doesn't need to hide anything, not like he does, but no smile graces her lips all the same. When it comes time to cast off, Inej holds Kaz's palms in hers and takes a piece of his heart. Kaz wasn't sure he had one to give away. As he watches the Wraith disappear on the endless gray horizon, he feels the painful pull of it moving farther away. He'll never get used to the sensation.

xiii.

The thirteen time that Kaz and Inej hold hands, it's a bright afternoon. The sea air wends its way through the streets of Ketterdam close to the harbour, stray gulls slicing through the air of the nearby alleyways. Kaz doesn't pass the docks on his way across the city; he rarely needs to these days. With his shares in Fifth Harbour long gone and the sea busy only with the usual flurry of trading ships, there's no reason to visit. If he wishes he had cause to do so, he tells no one. Only Inej would know otherwise, were she present- secrets can't hide from her.

When Kaz makes it to the Slat, it's quiet, as most afternoons find it. The crew are out and about on their assignments, as they should be, even though a few stray folk keep the din of the house to a reasonable level. Kaz walks into his office, fully prepared for a day of reviewing the week's profits, but he knows that the day will prove eternally better the moment he walks in. He can feel Inej's presence before he sees her sitting behind his desk. Inej won't tell him that she bribed Anika to keep the news of her arrival away, nor does she need to mention that she took the rooftops to reach the Slat- he'll already have figured it out. He doesn't need to say he missed her- she can tell from his face and the way he comes around the desk and intertwines his fingers with hers, all while telling her to take her boots off his desk. Neither of them need to say anything. They both know they're where they belong- together.

#inej #inej ghafa #kaz #kaz brekker #kanej #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #love these two and their dynamic #leigh bardugo #writing #fanfiction #seren writes

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snesdudes · 3 years

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FIST FIGHTING WITH FIRE

chapter I

Pairing: Mason x Detective (Alice Santos)

Warnings: Book 3 demo SPOILERS!!! Cursing, some angst, mentions of sex, Mason being Mason, I guess. Sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: ~2k

Summary: A week after that scene on Haley’s Bakery, Mason deals with the aftermath of his words... Or has he been dealing with it since the very moment he said them?

Read on ao3

chapter II ⭐ chapter III ⭐ chapter IV ⭐ chapter V

☾ 一一一一一一一一一 ☽

"Are you gonna put that down?" Nate's voice sounded gentle even when his eyes looked at him in concern. As a response, Mason took another drag of the cigarette before letting it fall to the floor and stumping it with his boot.

"We gonna go inside or what?" He pretended he wasn't worried.

A week had gone by since his last encounter with the detective. Since he last heard her voice, tasted her lips, looked into her eyes.

And it was goddamned near killing him.

It hadn't been the last time he had seen her -thank God- since he had checked on her more times than he would admit willingly. The sight of her running down the street, away from his words, away from him, made him ache in a way he wasn't used to. The strange pull on his chest, tightening, constricting, had nothing to do with the kind of aching she used to inflict on him. When that tightening sensation was on the pit on his stomach, a heat surging on his lower belly and expanding.

When she teased him relentlessly, her usually shy persona changing dramatically the moment they were alone in her bedroom - and her hallway, and her kitchen, and her couch. That aching, he could get used to.

This one, nonetheless… was awful.

He had been inside the SUV the next morning, a cloud of smoke surrounding him when she exited her apartment to leave towards the station. Her bright red hair was pulled up in a ponytail, half her face hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses.

"Come on, sweetheart, let me see your face." He muttered to himself as he watched her advance to her beat up car, long fingers drumming on the steering wheel nervously. But she didn't comply. Instead he saw her get in the driver's seat and take a shuddering breath while she checked her phone, apparently not finding in its screen what she hoped for.

Did she wipe her cheeks with her sleeve?

He waited two days before he tried to check on her again. This time at night. He stood among the shadows at the edge of the street, his hearing searching for her heartbeat to know if she was home. The sound let him know she was there indeed, though by the force of it probably not asleep… and quickly knew she wasn't alone.

The cigarette burned his fingers for a few seconds before he reacted and threw it. He couldn't just barge in, could he? Even less after what he told her - after making her cry.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He stood there for two more hours until he saw Tina leaving Alice's apartment. The sigh he exhaled surprised him in new ways.

It was late at night before her heartbeat let him know she had finally fallen asleep. He had lost the count of the times he had almost crossed the street to bang on her door.

The mood had dropped lower and lower on the Unit as days passed by. He wasn't sure if it was because he was feeling like shit, because he hadn't told them anything about it even when they had asked repeatedly or because - and that's what he feared - they all missed her. She had kept her distance, only updating Adam on work-related stuff and occasionally texting Felix back, but it wasn't enough. They needed her - they, because Mason had to believe it was all of them and not just himself. Her cheery, strong presence, her incessant chatting and her patience…

Mason was starting to understand she was irreplaceable. And no one should be.

That was why they had reluctantly agreed to go to the local bar that night, after Felix pestered them about it for two days. And he didn't know if he wished she was there or the complete opposite.

The vampire was usually ruthless with his words, but always honest. He told the crude, ugly truth, and if someone didn't like it, they could go to hell for all he cared. It didn't matter if he hurt them or angered them. He didn't give a shit.

But the guilt growing and gnawing at his insides for a week told him otherwise this time. Which could mean two things: or he didn't really mean what he said or he just hated to hurt her. In the worst case scenario, both statements were right.

His brain had replayed the moment over and over. The soft smile she was giving him when their lips parted, hers looking plumper after he moved away, thinking he wasn't nearly done with those lips. Her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with the sunlight that filtered through the windows, and for a few seconds, everything was perfect. They were on their own bubble, sharing breaths and body heat, and the sound of her fluttering heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. Her sweet coconut perfume was the only thing he could smell. He could still feel the tingling in his lips because of her own. And the way she looked at him…

She looked at him in a way that made his breath catch and his pulse kick up. The way his heart nearly seemed to burst threatened to consume him, and he had to look away. He had to look away because he didn't know what he would do if he looked at her for a moment longer.

Still reeling, confused and scared and anxious, he tried to figure out what was happening. And it all was too much and he heard what the waitress said and had to draw the line that had become blurred between them. So he said those words. And when her smile faltered, his heart seemed to contract and become smaller, and again he looked away.

He only caught a second of her tear filled eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, as Alice got up from her chair, almost knocking it over. He almost expected her to snap at him.

But what she did was so much worse.

Her voice broke and she ran away. He could still hear her heart when he got up to follow her, beating so rapidly it made his own speed up to match it. She took a shuddering breath, so close to a sob he stopped in his tracks.

He was paralyzed, watching her go. Knowing her pain was his fault.

Felix pulled him away from his thoughts when he stepped forwards and opened the door of the small bar, his demeanor joyful and excited. Nate smiled and followed him, Adam joining as if he was trying not to ruin the night for them. Mason took a deep sigh and followed.

Alice knew he was there even before Verda's eyes widened and he elbowed Tina, making her drink dangerously shake in her hand. The redhead took a deep breath. The way the back of her neck heated up and her skin exploded into goosebumps was the telltale sign of his grey eyes on her.

Maybe the worst of it all was that she had no right to be upset. He had been clear even before the first kiss - just sex, no complications. Had she been reading too much into it? In the way he seemed to orbitate towards her whenever they were in the same room? How he seemed to relax and want to actually talk to her? Was all of it her heart guiding her brain and not the other way around?

Alice didn't know how she would react when she saw him again, therefore she had avoided the Unit altogether, but this moment had to come. She was still hurt and trying to figure out her feelings for the infuriating vampire, but still the Unit were her friends. Her family, the closest thing she ever had.

She had to pretend. For herself, for him and for the Unit.

So she turned around with a smile, hopefully convincing enough.

"There she is!" Felix chanted happily before he strode towards Alice through the tables. Her smile seemed to freeze on her face the moment their gazes locked.

Fuck, she looks stunning. Her hair was wavy and bright as the fucking sun and she wore a lipstick to match. His breath caught on his throat the same way it seemed to happen to her. His fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach out for her without his permission. He almost took a step forward, missing her closeness and the peace she brought with her. Her own peace and storm, all mixed up inside him.

Black looks good on this man. The black henley shirt wrapped around all the right places, and when he ran a hand through his long hair she almost passed out with the urge to feel those biceps around her. He was looking at her and there was no hostility in his gaze. A flash of something passed through his eyes, but she was too far to read it. Regret? Longing? Maybe he just felt awkward after her outburst at Haley's Bakery. She wished she could go back in time, before she felt her heart aching at the sight of him. To the last time she had been tangled with him on her bed, feeling his heartbeat against her skin, his breath on her neck just above her scar.

Could she? Could she keep on having sex with him knowing he would never be truly hers? Not all of him? Why did she ever agree? She had known he would consume her. She had known she was doomed. She had known she was going to fall from him since the morning she woke up with his scent on her sheets.

Her attention snapped to the brightest smile she had ever seen and she couldn't help but genuinely grin at Felix. Who would have known a vampire would actually be the personification of a ray of fucking sunshine?

"Allie!" He wrapped her in a bear hug while she was half getting up and raised her the rest of the way, until her feet didn't touch the ground, and the detective squealed in delight as she returned the hug, before laughing.

Had her laugh always been so goddamn beautiful or had Mason just missed it like crazy?

The rest of them sauntered towards the table and Mason didn't miss the glare Tina was throwing his way. Girls talk, man. He ignored her completely, letting himself fall into a chair with Adam taking the seat next to him.

Nate was the next to hug Alice, although softer, and Mason watched as she closed her eyes, as if she had missed them just as much. She spoke over Nate's shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you. I was just going to get another round, this one's on me!"

"Actually, this was enough for me." Verda spoke while getting up, throwing a meaningful gaze to Tina.

"Y-yeah, same. Early morning tomorrow."

"Oh. Okay." Alice said, suddenly a little shy, finally letting go of Nate, who sat at the other side of Mason.

"I'll go with you to get the drinks!" Felix offered enthusiastically, asking all of them what they wanted while Verda and Tina said their goodbyes and left.

Like a magnet, their gazes found each other again. She was trapped in his just as much as he was in hers, but she broke it first, turning her eyes to the ground. She hadn't looked so insecure around them since the day they met. Her shoulders were slumped and she had her own arms around her frame, hugging herself, as if trying to become smaller. He could see the movement of her eyelashes as she blinked rapidly, her heart beating a mile a minute inside her chest, teeth chewing on her red lower lip. She looked shy and fragile, but Mason knew she was the strongest woman he had ever encountered.

Mason made a decision in that exact moment.

He would be the one biting that lip before the night ended. And he would not let so many days go by without touching her ever again.

He didn't even realize the magnitude of his thoughts, too caught up in the moment. He would deal with them later if they resurfaced.

For Alice, it was absurd how difficult it was not to look at him. To pretend the floor of the bar was far more interesting than those deep pools that seemed to see right through her every single time. But then he spoke.

"Sweetheart."

☾ 一一一一一一一一一一 ☽

A/N: Ahhhh!! My first time writing Mason!! I’ve been obsessed with TWC since I read it and after the demo I just couldn’t help myself. Next chapter coming soon!! Let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @agentnatesewell

#guuuys i'm excited about this #my first twc fic #she's hurt but still like: damn he's hot #twc #twc m #twc mason #agent mason #mason x detective #mason x mc #mason x alice #detective alice santos #the wayhaven chronicles

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City. A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid. How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid. Real sick. And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted. He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did. After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked. He looked… normal. And then he buffed up. Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job. He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine. If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking. A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom. Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared. He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away. You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed. She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that. Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict. His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him. But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her. Once she refused to break up with him, she was out. Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad. He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt. And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City. He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work. And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days. He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call. He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined. He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it. Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken. It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear. Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice. God, he was so tired. And everything hurt. There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey! Over here!” The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty. Real nasty. The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And not the big, strong shoulders he had no. The weak little skinny ones he had before. The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath. “Hey,” you said with a weak smile. “You got any cough drops? I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus. So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table. He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops. He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance. So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened. Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all. How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this? Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough. “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare. “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one. “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes. Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked. This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop. “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay. No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one. This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled. Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes. Actually, not even sometimes. Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve. Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth. You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to. It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him. And yeah, he still had his phone. He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later. It had gotten worse. So much worse. You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV. His wasn’t as bad. He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?” Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric. He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They wanna start opening things in late May… But it’s too early… I…” You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…” There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms. “Whatever happens, you’ve got me. You hear me? We’re in this together, okay? And we’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift. A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps. He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three. It gave him plenty of time. He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing. You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours. The blue tones glistened against your soft skin. You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor. When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding. This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you. This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him. “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face. “It’s me… Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp. “But I’m worried… And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face. He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still. He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again. “I don’t know… I’ve been better.” A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him. You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near. “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true. Others were on respirators, going into comas. You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort. “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows. “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said. He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction. “And I live alone. And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again… And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…” He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red. “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while? Maybe until all this has passed? And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face. “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yeah. We can take care of each other… I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine. And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask. Can’t you feel this thing between us? This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence? This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world? Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw. “I know about your family. I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried. I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips. “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside. I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.” His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing. “I know you. And I wanna take care of you. When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you. I want to spend my life with you. And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…” You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick. “I’m not easy to take care of. I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger. The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter. You were together and you were alive. “I don’t need easy. I just need you.”

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x y/n

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boneswriteswords · 4 years

Note

I have seriously fallen in LOVE with your writing now. Thank you so much but I would love to request another if that's alright! Iv always wondered what Jason would do if hid s/o turned out like him? Drowned or killed in some way only to come back stronger than before ?

***sneaks in and posts this after letting it sit here for 100 years***

Sorry. Hope you like it anyway. Its not my best but I tried.

~~~~

Jason cried behind his mask, garbled wounded sounds from broken vocal cords. He clutched you to him, drenching himself in your blood as it trickled to a stop. You were gone, had been for hours, and he was frantic. He rubbed against your rigid skin, desperate to return the warmth and color to it.

Grey didn’t suit you.

He couldn’t feel your thumping heart against his chest. He regretted every moment he took it for granted.

“Jason. Sweetheart. You have to bury her.” His mother’s voice echoed inside his head, strong in all its softness. He shook his head, clutching your corpse tighter against his chest. He would not put you in the ground. It was cold and dark and you deserved the sunshine. You deserved to see the day.

“Oh my sweet boy,” she sighs and he can feel her phantom fingers stroking his head, “You must let her go. You must honor her. Let nature take its course. It will be okay.”

For the first time in his life, he doubted his mother’s words. How could anything ever be okay again? He lost you. He failed you. He miscounted and those stupid teenagers ripped you apart before he could catch them. Your screams echoed inside of his rib cage. You had cuts all over your hands and arms, skin jammed under your fingernails and blood on your lips and teeth and bruises on your eyes.

You had fought them. Viciously.

But they had been too much for you.

Jason wished he could resurrect them, pump life back into them just to take it away again. He had raged, slashing at the group recklessly until parts of them started flying off with the force of his machete. Torture wasn’t really his thing but his time with Freddy had showed him the benefits of a long drawn-out kill. He wanted them to experience the pain they put you through before your body gave out, before you had fallen helplessly into death’s waiting arms.

He regrets their short deaths and promises to get his revenge on the next group of teenagers that show up. They were all the same and all of them would fall victim to his blade.

“Jason,” his mother coos again, “We can’t leave her here. Let’s put her close to us. They did like that spot beside your cabin. They used to read out loud to you as you cleaned traps. You can watch over her there.”

Another wail, a sound that can only be called a hybrid between agony and haunted, burst from his mouth. You did like to sit outside and read to him while he worked. You had said that you liked being close to him and, this way, you could spent time together while doing different things. He wasn’t really interested in the stories but the soothing lilt to your voice kept him calm and focused.

He had known that you loved him then, that everything he felt was reciprocated and he didn’t have to worry if you left. You had sought him out instead of running. You had chosen to spend your time with him as a companion instead of locking yourself away from him, thinking of a way to leave.

And now you were gone and he’d never experience the feeling he got when he saw you approaching, book in hand and sweetness dusted along your face, ever again.

“Oh my sweet boy,” Pamela shushes as her son moans, distraught “I know it hurts but you need to get her buried. Come on now.”

You were buried in a well dug, perfectly shaped hole. Jason didn’t go six feet down, it was too dark and he didn’t want you to be scared down there. He crafted a headstone from a chunk of rock with the tools he had around the campsite. He couldn’t spell so he engraved a love-heart into the stone instead of your name.

Pamela watched on with fondness, her hands guiding his when they started to shake.

Jason, changed in ways he had never understood before, returned to his life before you. He was no longer the man he had been before he had known your soft eyes and kind touch. His killings became more brutal. More drawn out. He chased them more. He skinned and flayed his victims in ways that even Freddy was intimidated by. His trappings became more elaborate – filled with ways to break their spirits before he broke their bodies. He leaned into a nature that wasn’t completely his but fit him well enough all the same, determined to uphold your honor and destroy those who sought to taint the land you were a part of now.

He visited your grave consistently, making sure it remained untouched and nice. After a month, he saw that grass had started rising from where he buried you and he wept. He was tempted to pull it all out but his mother reminded him of how much you liked nature. You liked grass.

So he left it.

He left the grass that grew on and around your grave.

He left the dandelions that sprouted soon after.

He left the ladybugs and butterflies and all manner of critters that came to hang out alone.

He left the bush that began sprouting from the hole.

A cycle of seasons passed and he remained the same, standing guard over the camp and your grave. You had become your own legend, the counterpart to Jason and Pamela. The last batch of campers had told ghost stories of you, weaving words of malice as they compared you to Davy Jones’ chest. How finding your grave was supposed to bring them protection.Their deaths were brutal but Jason savored the way your name sounded out loud. He made sure to rest his weary head beside your headstone that evening, his hand buried in the dirt under the bush that grew there.

He had no need for sleep but his dreams offered him the comfort of you alive in his arms so he took to doing it regularly. Freddy didn’t touch his dreams any more. The last time he interrupted a dream of you hadn’t been pretty and neither of them had really recovered from the incident.

On the anniversary of your death, he woke up to something feeling very wrong. He could feel his mother nudging him, urging him to wake up. She sounded pleased but something in Jason’s stomach told him that there was something wrong. Something was different. The energy around the camp had changed.

“Go to the grave Jason,” his mother urges, “Go now.”

He did, anger rising to the surface as he turned down the path that led to your cabin. Was someone at your grave? Had someone escaped his notice and found your resting place? He knew that finding your grave had become a sort of game for those who intruded and bringing back proof that you existed was ‘desirable.’ There were ‘bragging rights’ associated with the desecration.

Jason would not allow it. God himself would tremble at the fury he would unleash on those who dared lay a hand on your grave.

As he neared, he could feel the presence of another and he was fully expecting to find intruders to slaughter. He couldn’t hear any and he couldn’t see any but someone was here.

He wasn’t expecting to see you.

But there you were, sitting in the dirt beside your headstone, confused and terrified and new. The bush was gone. The dandelions were gone.

If he had a heart, it would have stopped. Distractedly, he could feel his mother smiling.

“Jason,” you whimpered, eyes wet and wide as you gazed at him, “Jason.”

Jason has never moved so fast in his life.

~~~~

End

~~~~

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees imagine #jason voorhees x reader #My writing #ask #slasher #slasher imagine #slasher x reader

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mylovelies-docx · 3 years

Text

Kid Krow - Comfort Crowd

Part 6!

A/N: We finally find out what promise Y/N made and couldn’t keep.

Chapter warnings: angst (as always), and like one paragraph of very vague smut.

As always, listen to the song here!

And read the story on AO3 here!

Taglist: @maraudersandco @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @hkmultifandom @spider-starry @ashleykaiba @mayangel19

Word count: 3.2k (a long boy!)

When you stormed out of the cockpit, Mille, Zalos, and Arle refused to look at you. You couldn’t blame them; you looked like hell. Zorii sat sharpening a blade and ticked her head towards the cockpit, asking silently if you wanted her to deal with Poe. You sniffed hard, scrubbed at your eyes, shook your head, and practically ran to your quarters.

You pleaded with the universe to just make Poe sit still and not follow you. You could not handle another moment with him, or else you would explode. Or more specifically, your heart would explode and you would die a slow, agonized death. All because of Poe kriffing Dameron and his stupid, stupid , friendship.

You made your way through the corridors, leaning heavily against the walls in order to not fall over in your pursuit of a private downward spiral.

Eventually you made it to your door and entered your code. The door slid open and you rushed inside, closing it behind you as fast as you could so you could be alone. But going where so many memories of Poe lived had been a mistake. Being alone with your thoughts and emotions was just too much.

It was all too much.

With a shattered scream, you broke down. Every last piece of your heart was wrecked and crushed and ripped apart until it was unrecognizable. And still, this burning, unending pain would not. Go. Away!

Outside, you heard a raised voice. Poe. Saying something about needing to talk, to explain, to apologize. But then muffled, indistinct words of warning from Zorii. You knew that Zorii would not let Poe anywhere near you after what had just happened and how upset she knew you were.

Zorii walked inside, her lithe frame seemed to be held together by rage alone. She hadn’t even bothered to knock or ask if you wanted someone around. But regardless, she was now your best friend, and you just needed company now.

“I will refrain from speaking too much on it, but I do need to emphasize how much I despise that man for everything he’s done to you,” she explained, and settled on your cot.

You wheezed out a humourless laugh. You were numb, through and through, after the havoc that had occurred over your last two encounters with Poe.

Zorii was still angry, but she opened her arms to you for comfort anyway. The look on her face and in her manners spoke of softness in spite of her fury, and it broke whatever respite your breakdown had afforded you. A cry exploded from between your lips, slamming into the walls of your quarters and deafening you. It was the sound of anguish and pain and betrayal that was ripped straight from your heart.

You hadn’t felt so miserable and pitiful in all your life: those stupid kids from back home could never have made you feel as bad as Poe has.

Zorii opened her arms wider and you ran to her. You clutched at her waist, burying your face in her stomach and just sobbed . Sobbed for the best and only friend that you had had for years before Zorii came along. Sobbed for the stupid, love-sick fool that couldn’t take a fucking hint and get over her best friend that never saw anything in her anyway.

Sobbed for yourself. Your pitiful, sad excuse of a self.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine,” you muttered over and over again in hopes of getting your pain under control. “I don’t really need him. I don’t. I don’t…”

She sighed, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “ You’ve said that lie already . We both know what a load of bantha crap it is.”

You repeat yourself over and over again, trying to drive it through your own skull instead of hers.

“Look,” Zorii sighed once again, “I know you loved him. As more than a best friend.” You cringed against her, ashamed that Zorii had to find out how you felt about the man she had been sleeping with. “And trust me, I understand the appeal all too well. I wouldn’t have started anything up with him if I had known how you felt. And to give credits where credits are due, you hid it really well; I had no idea until last week.”

You still couldn’t believe that Poe had said that to you in front of Zorii, remembering how terrible you had felt about it and how profusely you had apologized to Zorii once she had come to check on you that night.

“I overheard your holo-vid with Kes the other night as well,” Zorii admitted, wincing at her own invasion of your privacy. You were too overwhelmed to tell her you really didn’t mind.

“He mentioned some force tree or something? I don’t really know what you had said before that, but he mentioned that and you went quiet. I’ll admit that I was intrigued and maybe wandered closer to your door than I intended to.”

Her voice went soft after that.

“But then I heard you mention that he knew: what who knew, at that point, I wasn’t sure. But you went on to explain how you had felt so pretty dressed up in Shara Bey’s dress and how you had prepared a whole speech. At that point, I figured you were talking about Poe.”

You closed your eyes against her and tried hard to push the memory away.

***

It was a lovely day on Yavin IV, and the big, gnarly-rooted force tree near the Dameron’s household was a brilliant green in the midday glow. The wind was whispering through the jungle, and all the creatures that made it their home seemed to be singing along to some unspoken melody. Just for you.

And for Poe, whenever he decided to show up.

You were all nerves. Sweat under your arms, a racing heart, and clammy hands: always the best look for confessing your love to someone.

You and Poe had returned home to Yavin last month after being away for a few years. Your group had had a close call on the last run, and you begged Poe to come with you to see Kes and your gran.

Your gran couldn’t care less that you hadn’t been home, but Kes was ecstatic that you guys had come back to see him.

Poe had gone to the market to pick up some snacks for the picnic Kes told him you had planned. Poe just didn’t know that it was supposed to be a date for the two of you, and Kes wasn’t going to spoil the surprise.

You were busy getting ready when Kes presented you with the most beautiful dress you had ever seen from Shara Bey’s closet. He was adamant that you wore that particular dress, since it was the one he loved most on her. Your emotions were already bubbling over from anxiety, but the look on Kes’s face when he looked at the dress broke your heart. You could see that he was reliving a memory of him and Shara Bey, and you just couldn’t break the spell that it had over him, so you sat quietly.

He eventually resurfaced and left you alone to finish your routine, all the while insisting that you’d be his official daughter sooner or later. Your smile was so big that it hurt your cheeks.

You arrived at the tree and started to set up the blanket and pillows that you had brought from the Dameron household. The blanket was spread out in the flattest nook between roots, and the pillows were propped up against the trunk. You took your place among the pillows and waited.

And waited.

Admittedly, Poe was prone to getting carried away with conversations between himself and the vendors, but that particular outing seemed to last forever in your mind. You knew why later, but at that point in time, you were convinced that Poe felt something for you and would return for you soon.

You knew that he felt something for you; on all your spice runs, he begged you to stay inside the ship and be safe, he brought you back pretty trinkets that he said reminded him of you, and he was always flirting.

Always.

The nickname he gave you? Princess? Absolutely flirtatious. The hugs before and after he left the ship? Obviously an excuse to be close to you. The little winks he’d send over the fire at you and all the inside jokes you two had? Come on! It was all right there. And Kes agreed! So, you two devised this little set up so that you could finally confess to Poe.

Even with only the progression of Yavin Prime to get a rough estimate of time’s passage, it still took Poe entirely too long to find you. When he finally showed up, you had fallen into a light sleep.

“Where’s dad?” Poe asked, setting down a basket with absolutely nothing in it. He plopped down right beside it, startling you awake.

“Where are our picnic supplies?” You countered, rubbing your eyes and feeling nauseous and disoriented after your impromptu nap.

He lifted his hands in the air as if to say “what can you do” and grunted. “Everyone had packed up by the time I got there. Why isn’t dad out here with us? Did he go back to the house to grab something?” His nonchalance and lack of apology really ate away at your resolve to profess your love to him. You wanted to know what took him so long before you said anything about your feelings.

“No, no he never came out here,” you explained. “Why did it take you so long to get to the market? You left hours ago -- the sun’s going down.” You were wringing your hands in your lap, nervous about what his answer could be.

“I was just catching up with someone; nothing to worry your beautiful head about.” When he said that, he had smoothed over the top of your head like a cherished and beloved friend. “It’s a good thing for us, I promise,” he winked. You were eating it all up like you were starved for affection.

How tragic.

You quickly grasped his hand before you lost all nerve. You kept it between your palms, drawing patterns on the back of it that kept your eyes down and away from his questioning gaze and adorable, slightly confused smile.

The future opened up bright and wonderful before you: your mutual affections coming out in the open and that long-awaited first kiss. Stars , you had been fantasizing about Poe’s lips for more than half of your life at that point. And his hands. His hands! Maker, if they would just glide over your skin and caress you like you had pictured for years, you would die a happy woman. And you’d thread your hands through those beautiful curls at the nape of his neck and tug just a little bit, until he groaned like you had always heard in your dreams. You would move together, right on that blanket under the force tree you and Poe had always loved. You would come apart in the most delicious way, panting and crying, with his mother’s ring dangling from the chain around his neck and nestling itself into the hollow of your throat. And then he would grind into you one final time and just pour his affections into your neck and mouth for safe keeping.

How goddamn tragic it all turned out to be .

“I need to tell you something,” you whispered, looking up through your eyelashes at him. He grinned, seeming just as excited and nervous as you were.

“Me too. I’ve been dying to tell you something for days now!” He wiggled where he sat next to you, scooting as close as he could and touching your foreheads together, like you were about to share secrets that were only meant for the two of you.

“You first,” you said, breathless. You couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“No, no. You had something to say first, so you go ahead.” Poe had still been grinning at you, the happiest you had seen him in a while.

“How about we say it together?” You countered, giving his hand a little squeeze in anticipation.

“Okay, on the count of three,” he began.

“One…” you said together.

“Two…” you continued.

“Three!” You shut your eyes.

“I love you,” -- “Zorii and I are together,”

Silence. Your eyes were still shut, but now you were holding them so tightly that shapes were floating behind your eyelids. Poe pulled his hand from yours.

“What?” He asked, sounding confused and slightly wounded. Like he couldn’t believe that you had the nerve to say that out loud and ruin everything .

“Don’t,” you began, turning your head down and willing your heart to stop its frantic pace in your chest. “I – I didn’t know… I thought…” you trailed off, unsure what to say to fix the mess that you had created.

“(Y/N), do—do you love me? As more than a friend?” He grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his baffled gaze. You couldn’t think straight at that point, so you said the first thing that had popped in your mind.

“Yes, of course I do.”

Stupid girl.

“Oh, princess.” He released your chin and sat back, resting against the pillows like he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to deal with the situation any longer. “I’m sorry if I ever did anything to lead you on; I just thought we were friends. I mean, we both see other people, and I’ve never felt that way about you so I didn’t think you did either.”

He could not have said anything worse to you in that moment, could not have said anything that sucked all the warmth from your body any faster than that had.

Okay, (Y/N), just breathe. Think of a way out of this, you begged your frazzled mind. Anything would be better than the silence stretching between you at that point.

“I guess… I got some things confused. I’m sorry.” And now you were that little girl again, apologizing for things out of your control and no fault of your own.

You felt small again, insignificant and alone. A floating pile of junk in the vacuum of space, with no planet in sight and no answers to your distress calls.

Poe could see you spiraling, he had known you long enough to recognize the signs.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, princess, we’ll figure this out,” he murmured, coming closer to you once again. He arranged the pillows so that he could lay back with you on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and muttered soothing words, trying to calm you down and bring you back to him. Like he had done so many times before.

“No, there’s nothin’ to figure out; this is on me. Just give me some time and I’ll get over it.” You hadn’t gotten over it in all the years you had loved him-- truly loved him-- but you had vowed to figure it out, and quickly, so that you could stop feeling like that. “I promise I’ll get over it,” you said into the fist that was curled next to your face on his chest.

You closed your eyes and tried not to focus too hard on how good he felt underneath you like that. How intimate it was, how much it reminded you of the outcome of every daydream you had had.

How you knew that it was probably how he and Zorii spent their nights together now...

***

“Kes didn’t know how that day turned out because Poe and I fell asleep outside. I was too embarrassed to face him that next mornin’, so I sent Poe back to tell him we got an urgent message and had to leave. I don’t know exactly what they said to each other, but Poe looked sad when he came back and I didn’t wanna know.” The confession slipped through your lips, chapped from all the salty tears that you had cried into Zorii’s tunic.

“Oh, (Y/N). I’m so, so sorry. He was on a call with me that evening. I had no idea you were waiting on him; he just mentioned you all were going on a picnic and that his dad could keep you company for a while.” Her hands clenched against your back, as if trying to protect from a hurt that had already passed and done its damage.

“That boy wouldn’t know a Gungan from an Ewok if they were both standing in front of him. The only reason we ever got together was because I made the first move.” Her hands now continued their previous path of soothing circles, hoping to make up for the pain that she unintentionally caused not so long ago.

It amazed you how drastically things could change in such a short amount of time.

“It’s alright, Zorii, I’m not mad at you. I’m just angry at myself. Always at myself. For bein’ too slow, too emotional, too much and never enough at the same time.” You were defeated and exhausted, no longer able to keep even an ember of your earlier fire alive.

“I will not tolerate you speaking about my best friend that way; she is a wonderful person, and the best damn pilot we’ve ever had. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way,” Zorii chided, having pushed you away from her and giving you a stern look.

You returned something resembling a smile.

You looked back to her lap where you had just spent an indeterminate amount of time; the white fabric covering her stomach was completely transparent.

“Oh Rii, I’m sorry about your clothes,” you mumbled, trying to dry it with the sleeves of your outfit. It did no good.

“I don’t really mind; I like my shirts soggy,” she said, deadpan.

This time, a real laugh bubbled up from your throat. You were immensely grateful you had a friend like her.

______

For months after Poe’s departure, you kept a smile on your shoulders until you were sweaty; begging on your knees for somebody to come and help you when it was too much to carry. Zorii did her best, but no one could replace the comfort and happiness you had once found in Poe. You eventually stopped asking for help and pretended to have moved on.

But time passes, and past hurts are less painful. Especially when you don’t think about them.

You had seen the missed messages from Poe in those early days. Every time your comm buzzed, the despair you felt over your situation returned tenfold, and the only option was to throw the device in a forgotten corner and let it die -- just like your feelings.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x female reader #star wars #star wars fan fiction #sequel trilogy #Kid Krow (A Poe Dameron Story)

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

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been trapped in my head lately, no motivation to do much, but i still found some energy to finish this piece.

my apologies those that have reached out & ive not responded. <3 im trying. it’s just been a lot lately.

anyways, please accept some jonsa as my apology for inactivity & silence.

The winter air is biting, every breath coming in sharp twists of the lungs.

Even still, she finds herself outdoors.

Standing in the godswood, beneath the canopy of weirwood leaves, she finds an ounce of solace. There, among the trees and whispering gods, she feels at peace; she understands now why her father spent so much time here, sitting beneath the heart tree. Sinking down, she is a heap of black wool skirts in the snow, arms wrapping around her knees as she draws them to her chest. A sigh escapes her in a cloud of white and she leans forward, chin to her knees, sinking down into the dozens of thoughts have have invaded her mind over the last several days.

It's been just over a day since the sun rose, shining light upon the scars left behind by battle, by war. The fight against the Night King was over, but at the cost of what? Of innocent lives, of dearly loved friends and comrades? Sometimes she isn't certain it's ever been worth it, that it might have just been easier to give in... To let the evil win.

"... Sansa..."

The voice is soft, but it startles her from her thoughts; looking up, it's Jon that stands there, the furs she made him wrapped around his shoulders. That alone makes her smile. "Can I sit?" He asks, gesturing towards the space beside her, to which she gives a single nod. When he's settled down beside her, he's close enough that their shoulders brush, that when he moves his hand he feels the soft, yet somewhat scratchy feel of the wool of her gown. "I was looking for you." He goes on, turning to catch sight of her profile, illuminated by the winter sun that has begun it's slow descent towards the horizon.

In moments like this, whatever anger she felt towards Jon dissipates, whatever jealousy she felt towards his relationship with the dragon queen fades. In moments like this, they are as they once were and for that, she is thankful. For that, she is hopeful. Hopeful that someday, things will always feel as they once did, that someday there won't be a queen that stands between them. "I needed some time to myself," she admits, thinking back to the strange dreams she'd woke from that morning. Dreams of belching flames and pieircing screams. A dream that felt more like a premonition than a simple dream woven together by her sleeping mind. "You seem much recovered," she continues, chuckling at his expense, recalling his tired eyes and pale cheeks from that morning, signifying too much to drink and to little of sleep. At her words, he smiles, but it seems forced, so she sobers, reaching out to touch his hand with her own. He feels it too, the spark as skin meets skin, the warmth that flows through him at her touch also flows through her. "Jon... What is it?"

When she stares at him like this, with those big blue eyes, clearer than any sky, with those rosy lips turned down in a frown, he cannot deny her. "I..." He begins, but sighs, shaking his head. If he's to tell her the truth of what's bothering him, then... "I don't know where to begin." He finally says, shifting so he faces her fully, Stark gray eyes meeting Tully blue. That's when she smiles, her hand touching his tightening it's grip, warm and strong, offering him the only sense of comfort he's felt in days. In weeks. "I'm not who you think I am." At these words she tilts her head, surprise taking root, blue eyes widening and then narrowing slightly.

"You're just Jon," she responds with a quick shake of her head.

"Am I?" He asks, wondering if that was even the name he'd been given at birth, or the name Ned Stark had given him when he brought him home. "Sometimes I wonder..."

"There's no need," she says so matter-of-factly that he believes her. He's smile, he cannot help it, but it fades as quickly as it comes. "Jon, please..." She urges softly, hand squeezing his once again, reminding him that despite it all, he's not alone.

"My mother..." He stops, allowing himself to cover her hand with his other one. "My father..." He thinks of proud Ned Stark, with his dark eyes and dark hair, of the the man that raised him as his own, the man who despite what it would say about him, about his wife, risked it all to raise him, risked it all to keep him safe. "My father was Rhaegar Targaryen." He says it without preamble, watching her face as it changes; surprise takes root first, but something like relief fills her eyes in the moments that follow. "My mother was your aunt Lyanna." For a long moment there is only silence. Of all the things she thought Jon might admit to her there in the godswood, it was not this. "It's as I've told you... I'm not a Stark."

"That's not true!" She speaks so suddenly, so quickly, that it surprises him. She's shaking her head, clutching his hand, eyes narrowing as if she dares him to disagree. "I only mean..." She's gentler now, though there is a spark in her eyes that won't seem to fade. "You are a Stark by blood, no matter who your father is." She grips his hand when their eyes meet, he believes her. He would believe any word she spoke when she looks at him in such a way. "You'll always be a Stark to me." She whispers, so close now that he can feel the warmth of her breath when she exhales, so close that he can feel when her lips curve with the slightest of smiles. "This doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything," he whispers before he closes the gap between them, lips capturing hers in a way he's longed for far too long now. His kiss is warm, his kiss is full of everything he's never said to her before. It takes only a moment more before his hand slides into place against her cheek, the curve of it fitting perfectly into his palm. She's sinking into him, warmer than even the brightest of fires, her body pressed into his in a way he had never thought possible, in a way he has only dreamed of. "Sansa..." Her name is on his lips when they break apart, breathless in the cold winter air, his hand still to her cheek. "I have to go to King's Landing." He says, uncertain why, but knowing it's the right thing to say all the same.

"I know," she says, tears reflecting in her eyes, though her lips are still yet smiling. "I'll come for you, if I must," she goes on, her words eliciting a chuckle from him. "I mean it." She stiffens, one hand falling into place against his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I would go to King's Landing again for no one but you." Once, she swore to never again set foot in the capital, but now she knows, soon, she will have no choice. He thinks of her riding into the city through the gates, an army at her back, a queen that Westeros has never before seen.

Jon tilts his head, leaning in a moment later, touching his forehead to hers. "Say you will come for more than just to save me." He murmurs, to which she blinks, drawing back slightly. "Say you will stand at my side, when all of this is over." He knows what the world will say, but he cares little for talk; he cares only for her, in truth. "I cannot live without you at my side." He's known this since the day they reunited as Castle Black- he's known all this time that his life meant nothing if it weren't for her.

A tearful laugh escapes her, but she nods, squeezing his hand which hers has found again. "You know I will come to save you, though," she says and he laughs, hearty and booming, the truest laugh he's felt in weeks. In months. "I will always be at your side." She speaks when silence has fallen, looking up as the first snowflake melts against her nose. "It's snowing." She observes, hand outstretching, catching the droplets in her palm.

"For now." Jon replies, knowing that before long, spring would come again. He rises up from the ground, his hand stretching out towards her. She takes it, allowing him to help her up onto her feet, though his hand does not stray from hers. "Stay with me tonight... Won't you?" He asks, softer than before, cheeks flushing as soon as the words leave his lips. But she smiles as if she's been waiting her whole life for him to ask her such a thing.

Perhaps she has been.

Arm looping through his, she allows Jon to lead her from beneath the godswood and back towards their home, back to the place they had fought for together and won. Back to the place they had reclaimed, not just for them, but for Arya... For Bran... For Rickon. For their family.

[ x x x ]

When he hears the footsteps in the hall, he thinks it to be the Dothraki.

The door swings open and it is not Grey Worm nor any of his men standing there. It's Sansa, with war braids twisted into her vibrant red hair, such a look on her face that even he's frightened. "Remove his chains," she commands and the man behind her scurries forward, dipping down to do as she's said before he's backing from the room, leaving them alone together.

"Jon!" She's sinking down, arms wrapping around him; she smells of rosewater and tastes of strength. "You are unhurt?" She asks, drawing back, holding him at arm's length, blue eyes wild with worry. Jon grins, shaking his head, hand reaching out to gently tug upon one of her braids, taking in the sight of her there before him. She is bright as the setting sun, her strength, her warmth all flowing into him at the gentlest touch of her hand. "I told you I would come." She smiles and he laughs, as if they have not come to this moment thanks to war, thanks to bloodshed.

"I knew you would." He says and she's in his arms then, warm and soft, the only thing that has kept him going all this time. "I hope you've not made us many enemies." It's her turn to laugh as she shakes her head, pulling back so they might look one another in the eye. He can imagine her there, down in the dragon pit, with her sharp glares and even sharper words. He can imagine her, war braids woven into her hair, every stare daring the most powerful men in the realm to disagree with her. None would, of course. Not that he could blame them. She is a force to be reckoned with, his she-wolf queen with snapping jaws. He cannot blame any man who would cower beneath her.

"None," she promises, but they both smile.

"It's over," he says, hand reaching out, cupping her cheek. To his surprise, she shakes her head, hand sliding over his.

"It's only just begun," she corrects, blue eyes rising up to meet Stark gray.

Silence falls and for a moment, he can only just take in the sight of her there, the one constant in his life, the one thing that's kept him going all this time. Rising up to his full height, he draws her up after him, clutching tightly to her hands. "Stay with me, won't you?" He asks softly, to which she smiles, a single nod her only response. Jon slides his hand into her red hair, relishing the softness of it against his skin, breathing in the sweetness of it as he draws her into his tight embrace.

After all this time, they might finally find happiness.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #i wrote this #my writing

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cpd5021 · 4 years

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Gone Part Three

Hey guys, remember that one time I said this was a two shot? I lied. Apparently. Also, this one is going to jump back and forth between POV’s so hopefully it’s not too confusing. And this one is a little shorter than the first two chapters (novels?). There will be one more part to this fic and that will probably be the end. Thanks for all the support on this one!!

Jay’s POV

No sooner had the words left Dr. Pearson’s mouth had I watched as Hailey’s eyes went dark. I knew she wasn’t listening to him anymore and was far away at this point. I asked him to give us a minute, watching the emotions course over Hailey’s face and knowing she was going to break down. I knew she wouldn’t want anyone to witness it, probably myself included, but there was no way in hell I was leaving her alone. I watched him leave the room and as the door clicked closed I turned back to Hailey. Her face had transformed into something that would haunt my dreams and tears ran down her face, quickly turning into full blown sobs. The sound coming out of her was gut wrenching and it broke something inside of me. I reached out, brushing her arm gently, but she immediately pulled away. I watched in horror as my normally rock solid partner fell apart. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to help her through this. But as her tiny body crumbled before me I knew I had to do something. I gently scooted her down the bed and climbed into the spot behind her. Her body shook against me as sob after sob fell from her lips. I wrapped my arms around her, careful not to push too hard on the injured shoulder and felt her head fall back against my own shoulder. My arms tightened around her as she continued to fall apart. I gently whispered against her neck, hoping to calm her a little but it didn’t seem to work. My body began a gentle rock, swaying her back and forth and it seemed to slow the sobs just a little. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that before the sobs finally faded back into quiet tears running down her face, but slowly her breathing returned to normal. She didn’t make any attempt to pull away from me and I didn’t have any intention of getting up. As long as I was giving her some sense of comfort I would stay here as long as she needed me. Her breathing slowed even more as my rocking continued and I peaked my head around to see that her eyes had fallen shut. I slowed the rocking and leaned back against her pillow, drawing her with me. My arms still held her closely and I could feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest, a slow and steady pace with her asleep. My own exhaustion from the days events caught up to me and I felt my eyes get heavy. With a sigh I let them shut, praying I could get her through this.

Hailey’s POV

I woke slowly, my eyes blinking open and adjusting to the gentle light pouring into the room from my window. For a moment, everything was fine and I had no recollection of the previous day's events. I was warm, warmer than I’d felt in a long time, and I realized a pair of arms was wrapped around me. With a start, I recognized them as Jay’s and suddenly everything came rushing back. I carefully shifted them off of me and managed to slide off the bed without waking him. My body screamed at the motion but I fought through it. Using the IV pole as a guide to steady me, I padded into the bathroom attached to my room. I came to a halt in front of the mirror and took in my appearance for the first time. My eyes were bloodshot from all the tears I had shed. My cheeks were a raw shade of red from the cold wind that had blown against them. My forehead held a small cut, stitched together with a black crisscross, dried blood still evident just above my eyebrow. I could see some faint marks on my neck, almost as if I had been choked, although I couldn’t recall that happening. The gown hanging loosely off of me thankfully covered the rest of the damage. My entire body burned as I stood there. Having used up all of my energy to come in here and not wanting to go back out to Jay, I leaned against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor. The cool surface underneath me was an unwelcome reminder of the ice still lingering in my core, but I was down here now and I wasn’t sure I could get back up. I looked down at my pale legs, sprawled out in front of me on the floor and gently tugged the gown up, revealing my thighs. I wanted to vomit at the sight of the caked on blood that remained. It was obvious someone had made an attempt at cleaning me up but the evidence still remained. I shut my eyes, having seen enough, and willed the darkness to take me once again.

I woke up to a knocking on the door, followed by the sound of Jay’s worried voice. I debated ignoring him in the hopes he would go away but I knew that was a pointless idea. He knocked again and I shifted my body in an attempt to stand back up, except I used my bad arm and a pain shot through me, causing me to cry out in pain. No sooner had the noise escaped me was the door being pushed open and Jay rushed in, panic plastered across his face.

“Hailey! What happened?”

He knelt before me, his hand holding my good shoulder and trying to get me to look up at him. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand to see the look his eyes held.

“I’m fine.”

I croaked out, shrugging out of his grip. I saw him shift back then, giving me some space, and I didn’t need to see his eyes to know that I had just hurt him. With a sigh, I made myself look at him finally and saw exactly what I expected to see.

“Why are you on the floor?”

He asked, voice dripping with worry.

“I was tired. I wanted to sit.”

I said matter of factly. It wasn’t a lie, I just left out the part where I hadn’t wanted to go back out to him. He looked down at me with his concerned look and I almost wished he would just go away. I knew he was only here because he felt responsible for this whole mess and I didn’t want to weigh him down with my problems. But another part of me didn’t want to be alone and was therefore thankful I knew he would stay.

“Let’s get you up…”

He stood and reached his hands down as if he was going to pick me up but I just shook my head at him. I definitely needed help up, but I didn’t want him to touch me.

“Can you just grab a nurse?”

I whispered, almost embarrassed by the question. He looked down at me again, another look of hurt flashing across his eyes, but nodded and left the room. I let out a shaky breath as I watched him retreat, blinking away fresh tears threatening to fall. He didn’t return but instead a shorter, brunette nurse entered the room, her face matching his concern from earlier.

“How’d you get down there?”

She asked, looking me over. I sent her a shrug, which I instantly regretted.

“I just wanted to sit…”

I trailed off sheepishly. I had to admit, this was pretty dumb. She gave me a small smile before bending down to help me up. Once I was standing and the room had stopped spinning with the sudden motion, she pivoted me to head back out into my room.

“Can I shower?”

I stood in place, suddenly wanting nothing more than to rinse yesterday off of me. She gave me another look up and down before nodding and leaning me against the sink. Thankfully, the small bathroom came complete with a shower stall so I didn’t have to move far. There was even a seat inside it so I wouldn’t have to stand the entire time. She turned the water on, checking the temp quickly before turning back to me. She came over and did something to my IV, freeing me from my tether to the machine. Then she pulled the gown off of me and I did my best to not catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. She led me to the stall, settling me down onto the bench before telling me to stay put and she would be right back. She had nothing to worry about as I had no intention of leaving the hot water any time soon.

Jay’s POV

I sat in the chair, in the corner of Hailey’s room, as I listened to the running water coming from the bathroom. The nurse had returned with a stack of towels and a set of blue scrubs, giving me a small smile before dipping into the bathroom and shutting the door. I leaned forward, letting my head hang in my hands and rubbed my face. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, quickly replying to the brief message from Voight. It was a status check and I wasn’t sure what all to say. I’d like to tell him she was recovering fine and that we could head home soon, but I didn’t know at this point. Even though her physical wounds wouldn’t last, I knew the mental and emotional ones would and I was afraid I would never get the same Hailey back. I vowed to myself that I would do whatever I could to help her through this, but I had never felt so hopeless in my life. Eventually, the water shut off and a few minutes later, they emerged from the bathroom. Hailey looked even tinier than normal. The blue scrubs looked two sizes too big and draped loosely off her small frame. Her blonde hair hung damp across her shoulders, framing her pale face. All the blood was gone and that was a relief, but the evidence of what had happened still remained. The nurse helped to settle her back into bed and then left the room, leaving us alone once again. I studied her for a moment, trying to get a read on her before I stood and approached the bed. Her head dipped down, her eyes glued to the hands clasped in her lap. I pulled the chair up to her beside and sat down, trying to look at her face.

“Hailey…”

I whispered, not wanting to spook her. We hadn’t talked since her breakdown the night before, minus the brief exchange in the bathroom, and I wasn’t sure how she was feeling about it. Not so much her show of emotion, but more so my reaction to it. We had never so much as hugged before this and I found myself worried that I had crossed some line at the worst possible time to do so.

“Thank you Jay.”

She whispered back and I found myself surprised by her words. I scrambled to come up with a reply, unsure of how to proceed on what felt like very thin ice.

“Any time. I will help you get through this, whatever you need from me…”

I reached my hand out to hers, my heart aching a little when she pulled away. I could tell she was debating her next words and I steeled myself for what was about to come.

“Go home Jay. I’m fine.”

Her voice was cool and free of emotion, despite the fact that she looked like she was going to start crying at any second. My head jerked back in response. There was no way I was going to leave her, unless that’s what she truly wanted.

“Hailey, I’m not going anywhere...I want to help you..”

I almost pleaded, hoping she wouldn’t push me away further. She swallowed hard and I knew I wasn’t going to get my wish.

“Then please just go home.”

Her voice remained steady but her eyes turned red as she spoke. I could tell she was fighting back emotions and to be honest, so was I. I knew she was pushing me away as her own defensive tactic and that there was a good chance she didn’t really mean it, but I also did want to push her and cause her any more pain. I swallowed hard, feeling my throat burn before I spoke.

“You don’t have to do this alone Hailey. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I searched her face one more time, hoping I could find some hint that I should stay. But her stoic expression left me empty handed so with a sigh, I stood up from the chair.

“Go.”

She breathed out, still avoiding my eyes. I turned to walk out of the room without another word, my heart breaking into a million pieces as I caught sight of her just before the door closed. I saw the tears begin to fall down her face as she drew her arms across her chest, holding herself as I had the night before. I wanted nothing more than to go back into the room and draw her close once again. It broke me knowing that she was alone but I knew now wasn’t the time to push back. I would leave her in the room for now, but I sure as hell wasn’t going back to Chicago without her.

Hailey’s POV

I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces the second Jay left the room. I knew he would have stayed if I had asked him too. He’d be back in a heartbeat if I called him. But I didn’t want him to see me like this. I hated knowing he was watching me fall apart and that he would feel responsible for putting me back together again. I doubted that I would ever be back to my old self, but maybe someday this ice in my veins would lessen and I could at least pretend. I let the tears run down my face as I wrapped my arms around me, trying to imitate the warmth Jay had given me the night before, but it was no use. All I felt was more coldness pushing into my core. I shut my eyes and willed sleep to come, in the hopes I might feel better when I woke. I felt my body start to relax and I drifted off into unconsciousness.

“No! Stop! Let me go!”

I screamed to no avail. My body was useless against the brute force of the man holding me captive. I remembered being in my room and then waking up briefly in a truck before quickly passing back out. Now, I was in the middle of the woods somewhere and my captor was dragging me from the truck into a tiny, run down cabin. I screamed again as he yanked at my hair, forcing me to move and I struggled to keep up with his fast pace. I felt more than disoriented and I knew he must have given me something. Finally, we made it up the rotted steps and I was tossed through the door, landing in the middle of an almost empty room with a crash onto the floor. As my body struck the cool concrete underneath me, I felt the air pushed forcefully out of my lungs and I struggled to take another breath. I rolled over and looked up in horror as the man was now looming over me, a twisted smile on his face. He said something but I couldn’t understand what. I watched as he pulled the black backpack off his pack and he knelt to unzip it before pulling out what appeared to be my handcuffs. He moved over to me and quickly grabbed my arm before I could process what was happening. The cool metal against my sink made my heart start to panic. I tried to fight him off and avoid the second cuff getting put on, thrashing my weight around in an attempt to get away from him. He effortlessly flipped my onto my stomach and his knee rammed into my back, holding me in place. I screamed again when he yanked my free arm back too far and I felt my shoulder make a sickening pop as pain shot down my arm. The second cuff clicked onto my wrist and I knew I was in trouble. Not that that fact wasn’t evident before, but the situation was definitely out of my control now. He rolled me back over and used the chain between my wrists as a handle to drag me across the floor before securing me to a pipe on the wall. The pain in my shoulder was making it even harder to focus as I tried to take in my surroundings. I knew it was still daylight outside but the cabin lacked any windows and only the small cracks in the broken door provided a dim light into the room. He had disappeared from my view and I tried to steady my breathing so I could hear him but it was no use. Suddenly he was in front of me again, the same twisted grin covering his face. He knelt in front of me and his strong hands gripped at my ankles. With one swift motion, he pulled and I was almost flat on my back, my upper body only elevated by the pipe holding my handcuffs in place. I tried to fight back the scream from the pain caused by my new position but he yanked my legs again and I couldn’t hold it back. I kicked and thrashed my legs as his hands tried to pull at my pants, only increasing the pain in my arm. I connected my foot to his head at one point and it slowed him for a moment. He rubbed at his temple before tilting his head back up towards me, sending me a glare that made my breath hitch. I watched as he pulled his arm back, trying to shield my body to the best of my ability before he got a strong blow into my side, effectively knocking the wind back out of my lungs. He grabbed a crowbar from the bag beside him and I let out a scream as I watched him raise his arms above his head before bringing them down at a rapid pace. And then there was nothing but darkness.

I awoke and quickly realized two things. First, my body was on fire as the pain seared all over, from my shoulder all the way down to my ribcage and everywhere in between. The second was that I was screaming and I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. My eyes were wide open, staring in horror at the room around me and feeling disoriented by what I was seeing. I wasn’t in the cabin anymore and instead appeared to be in a hospital bed. There was a nurse standing before me, arms up in defense and looking like she was terrified of me. I realized I was probably quite the sight at the moment and that my screaming was certainly not helping, but I couldn’t make myself stop. It felt as if time had stopped and I was frozen in this moment, but in reality, only a few minutes had passed. My lungs burned for the air my screams were depriving them of. My body burned in protest to my position on the bed, sitting bolt upright, my fists clenched beside me. I wanted to ask her to give me something to make this stop, anything that would help me regain control again, but she just stood there with the terrified look on her face. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the door swing open and a man in a white coat barged in. Dr. Pearson. His face quickly morphed to match the nurses and I started to wonder if anyone was going to help me. The door opened again and my heart skipped a beat. Jay. My screams turned into sobs as he crossed the room quickly, closing the gap between us. His face mirrored theirs but it didn’t stop him as he climbed onto the bed behind me, wrapping his arms around me once again and holding me together as he had the night before. He said something to the two people still standing frozen by my bed but I didn’t understand what. All I could focus on was the warmth his body was radiating into mine and the way his arms made me feel safe.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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oh-theatre · 4 years

Text

Objection!: Chapter 26

Chapter title: When Youre Home

A/n: Sorry it took awhile and im sorry its shorter!! Ive been really busy but I still wanted to get a chapter out! And ofc cant tell you what happens just yet also gotta let ya suffer. Sorry its bad but enjoy!! PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS YALL! PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND IF ITS CONFUSING OR YOU HAVE QUESTIONS IM HERE TO ANSWER THEM OK?

First | Previous | Next

words: 2356

summary: The world freezes as the gang follows the events of the previous night

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link

“Dada!” No, Logan couldn't. His throat closes tightly hearing the sound of frantic children racing toward him. Wiping away his nervous tears he stands, the twins waste no time as Logan kneels to nuzzle themselves into him. Emile and Remy, somber faces, approach from behind. “Where's Papa?” Valerie shakes, her fears from the night only arising.

“Um...Patton is…” Logan cant speak, the words catch in his throat, stuck at some border keeping them down. “He’s…” He doesn't wish to beg for assistance, but his eyes beg to anyone. Everyone avoids him, except…

“Why don't we go get some food?” Emile offers, the twins attention, tired and worn out, and focuses on the doctor. “We can get something for your dad” Emile and Remy work in sync, taking the pair from Logan. Nothing changes but the smallest glint shows his thankfulness. They set off and just as soon as they appeared, they fade into the rush of the midnight hour at the hospital. Cold and dark, Logan wants them back, the aching his body feels as he no longer can feel their presence.

He could see the crowd move, he could hear their mumblings and the world continue on. But he felt numb, like static surrounding him, nothing was there. Silence in this noisy void. Even when Virgil places his hand on the lawyers shoulder it takes a moment to register, then his face only sends him back.

“Hey we he- Patton” It takes almost no time to identify the ooze of blood and the frozen terror in the center of the courtroom. Virgil steps back, a moment of hesitation, Roman rushing by him sparks him back alive. He had never seen a puzzle so broken, so many pieces lost. Logan couldn't speak, but he held so tightly. But to what? Virgil hated it but it didnt look like Patton.

“Hel..help” Logan manages, something in him however was gone. Virgil couldn't look anymore, the pale face, he longed to see the bright smile, promising love as it flashed to all it passed. The sparkle of his eyes, a smart shine closed as they looked empty. Nothing was there, no one was there….

“Uhm Roman Reial, I need an ambulance… the courthouse on Preise Boulevard” He rushes, his breaths short and scared. “A-a gunshot wound...please just hurry” He pleads, Logan continues staring towards the door. The icy blue that sparked with wisdom and his unsuspected and treasured love had melted. They were empty, devoid of purpose to shine.

“We...we’re engaged” He mumbles, Virgil looks to Pattons hands instantly. The scuffed skin didn't distract from the stunning glimmer of the ring around his finger.

“C-come on” Virgil tries “We have to get him out of here...or apply pressure...or stop the bleeding or-”

“Virge breathe” Roman takes his hand, squeezing it gently. Their eyes meet and the dangerous storm dies down in Virgil, finding a light rain should suffice. “He’ll be ok”

“Don't make promises you can't keep” Virgil whispers, listening to a silent Logan crying ever so gently over a fallen love. Roman cups his cheek, the movement feeling natural.

“I'm not” He takes Virgil to the side, calming him as medics and cops file in. The pair are guilty as they ignore Logan's desperate cries, shunning away while Patton, if you can call his lifeless body that was hauled away. Logan sinks again, unable to move, no one makes a sound, the room falls quiet once more. “Logan…” Roman begins, his caution at a high point. The lawyer shakes his head, searching for the words, any words. A simple croak.

“Hes-”

“Dead” Logan mutters “He's dead” He slumps into his chair, Roman and Virgil share uneasy glances.

“What happened?!” The three look up, their eyes landing in unison. A fiery path alight as Barbara marched towards them, Marcy following her footsteps trying to put out the dark. Logan stands, not expecting the rough descent to the physical world. “What did you do?” She spits, desperate as everything falls apart.

“Barb!” Marcy calls, gently removing her from a distant Logan. “Bubbles take a breath, it's not Logan's fault” Marcy assures, stroking ever so delicately to her wife. Barbara tries to conjure an argument but shatters, falling into Marcys arms as she cries.

Shouldn't Logan be doing the same?

Why couldn't he feel the pain?

Had he succumbed...to the dark?

Not too long ago his confusion was riddled with unbearable pain, the sadness too much to feel as it coursed through his veins, practically pumping his breath. He needed Patton, that took something out of him. The name, even the mere thought was too much, a break in his step. Turning rapidly away from this scene, too much of a mirror of his inner turmoil, he walks to the door, and kept going. Ignore, he told himself, ignore the shouts and the concern.

“Patton Hart” He demands, the woman perks up, a note of sympathy accompanies her sweet smile. She dials the phone, hushed whispers before she returns to Logan, the man no doubt seemed insane.

“I'm sorry sir, mister Hart is still in surgery” She informs. “We will send someone out with updates, but please return to the waiting room” She requests, her politeness and formality wasn't something Logan could argue. And it made sense, what was he thinking. Resigned with shame he returns to the group, the moment his sweaty back hits the chair he gives in. The tears just come, you'd think dehydration might be a risk as he sobs with no filter. No one dared move, not even a breath escaped but Barbara's face morphs, she takes his side, clutching hard. If he needed pressure, he was getting it.

Everyone loved him, but these two...it was different. The pain, the absolute grief they felt, couldn't be matched, only sprouted from their passionate love. Even if there's differences between each other, it was intense...and it hurt. And they shared that, how awful…

~~~

“I hear kids” Patton chuckles into the pillow, Logans arms remain around the smaller of the pair. It was true, the feet moved rapidly through the house, the wooden floors revealing their location with coy creaks. Logan groans, nuzzling into Patton not wishing to lose this warmth. “C’mon” Patton giggles, a gentle kiss on Logan's cheek before he sits up. His hair falling perfectly into a fluffed cloud. The pair reach for their glasses, preparing for the wave that approaches them.

“Papa! Dada!” The door bursts and the twins spare no one, jumping into the bed as they pounce on the fathers. Both lawyers fall back, laughing through muffled embraces. The twins had grown immensely, and yet they insisted on Sunday morning hugs.

“Where do you attain all this energy?” Logan wonders, adjusting Remus in front of him, the boy bounces excited. “It's eight in the morning” Logan yawns, Valerie follows suit sitting next to her brother.

“Lo they've only been alive for ten years, they have all the energy in the world” Patton teases, resting his head on Logan's accepting shoulder. “Why don't we give your father some space, come on Ill make you breakfast” Patton takes his time, slipping on his slippers as he leads the eager twins to the kitchen. The skip behind him, humming sweetly as they clutch to his hands.

“Cartoons?” Remus proposes, Patton nods and allows them to set up in front of the couch. The shows blare loud but nothing Patton didn't enjoy or was used to, he begins his work diligently in the kitchen. Never could he gain tired of the sweet bouts of laughter from the children.

“Good morning pop!” Patton turns, a giant grin spreads. Terrence stands idle, his cup tight in his small hands, his smile reflects brightly.

“Well good morning sweetness” Patton greets, kneeling slightly to face the young boy. “What can I do for you?” He offers, Terrence holds out his cup, shaking it gladly. “Juice or water?”

“Juice please! Jamahl sleeping still” He replies, Patton obliges, securing the drink into his hands once more. “Thank you kindly!” He beams, Patton hides a sweet chuckle, his vocabulary increasing everyday. “Hello papa” He waves to a slumbering Logan, hugging his legs before racing off to join his siblings, Logan ruffles his hair watching him go. Patton giggles turning back to his work, the stove ready for the delectable delight.

“Mmm” Logan hums, his arms wrapping gently around Patton's waist. His head falls perfectly on the mans shoulder, burrowing with ease. Patton giggles, the tickles certainly help to awake the man. Logan grows impatient spinning Patton towards him, leaning into a gentle kiss, a nice satisfaction as he pulls away.

“What was that for?” Patton laughs, Logan shrugs returning to his position. He enjoys watching his husband work, the careful manner as he prepares food, the unconscious humming that carries a tune. He places yet another kiss on Patton's cheek, wanting to remain as such forever. They both take a moment to turn to the children, each excited as the animation dances across the stage. Patton takes Logans hands in his own, interlacing their fingers as they watch.

“I want another” Logan yawns, Patton continues his cooking. He shakes his head stirring the coffee pouring two even cups.

“Another kiss?” He jokes, obliging by his own manner. Logan pouts and pulls Patton back to him. “Yes dearest?” He wonders

“Another kid” Logan presses, Pattons amused smile remains but falters a tad. “I mean look at them, they're perfect” Logan smiles, his glasses drooping. Patton adjusts them for him but bites his tongue. “Come on...I was looking and talking to Lia and-” Patton interjects quickly

“Lo I don't want another kid” He admits, his brows furrowed with concern. Logan takes a step back, their hands remain connected.

“I….what?” Logan mutters “I mean...you love kids. And you're wonderful with them. I don't understand…” Patton strokes his cheek, calming the anxiety he can see forming.

“I do love kids. I love Virgils son, I adore Thomas and the twins and Terrence are my life” Patton promises, yet something is off. “I just...I don't want another kid” He restates. “Divine, we are both full time lawyers and I'm on the city counsel. We already have trouble balancing our schedules with them. Adopting a child, no matter the age would be difficult. And it wouldn't be fair on them” Patton explains.

“What about Terrence? And Jamahl?” Logan marvels, scouring his brain. “That was even more dire, you were just out of the hospital a-and you were just starting. I was just beginning to learn what it meant to be a father-”

“And you are amazing at it” Patton smiles, Logan can't find the same urge.

“Terrence was a baby, I mean we could take in a grown child...like Jamahl. Statistics show that they are less likely to be taken in and it would save us the trouble of a newborn and it would be easier to help them adjust and understand” Logan rushes, desperate. “We can do it” He assures, Pattons usual determination, his need to please Logan just couldn't conjure itself.

“I-im sorry Lo, I don't want another kid” Patton laments, finally it seems their hands find their way apart.

“Ok maybe not now, I mean maybe in the future we could-” Logan tries. Pattons hands clutch to the table, the spatula could sink into the counter.

“No Logan you're not hearing me” He whispers, wishing to keep this to themselves. “I don't want another kid, We’ve got two ten year olds. Both who have been through more than any ten year old should. Both also very familiar to a broken home, and wishing for nothing more than to keep what stability they have. We've got a little five year old who despite being just a baby was thrown through system and system and didn't know a stable and safe home until he took his first steps on that carpet over there and his over-protective brother finally trusted us” Patton takes a frustrated breath “We have full careers and If I know you, which I pride myself on, you want it go further and advance” He watches the once expression he hated so much, Logans eyes fall hopeless. He takes his cheeks, aweing so gently. “Logan, my starlight, I love you so much. I love you, and the kids and my job and my friends. I like our life. But I don't want another kid, Jamahls about to go off to college, the twins are going to be in highschool in no time and Terrence is beginning school” Patton serves the now saddened breakfast, moving to the table as he sets it. Molly whines at his feet for food, he wishes to coo but his heart feels heavy.

“Patton I-” Logan begins

“I have to go wake up Jamahl, he has SAT prep and Thomas is coming over soon to play with Terrence” Patton gives another look before disappearing behind the wall. Both take shuddered breaths fearing their own ability to stop tears. The house felt tense, hard to move through, hard to breath. Hard to stay still, why was it shaking?

“Logan” The softest voice cuts through, the lawyer sputters awake, his eyes flutter open. Virgil kneels in front of him, his hands gentle as he places a hold on the man. “He's out of surgery” Virgil informs, Logan nods before fully comprehending Virgil's words. He jumps up, rushing to the doctor who was seemingly reporting to Barbara.

“...he hasn't awoken yet but his vitals are stable for now” The man finishes, thats all Logan needed. “As you are immediate family you can see him, the rest of you will have to wait” Logans heart drops, falling below his knees. Barbara rings her hands but takes Logan.

“This is his husband” The doctor checks his chart, skeptical as to who is listed. “Its recent so he hasn't had time to update it” Barbara adds, Logan would be eternally grateful to her later. Especially as they walk through the forbidden doors and straight down to the room…

His room.

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chaoticdean · 4 years

Text

What is there missing from me, that I see in you?

For week 8 — prompt: hope

Set in-between the end of season 12 and the beginning of season 13, Cas has been killed by Lucifer and awakes in the Empty.

~ 1.9K, angst and feels (because I like to suffer miserably)

Host : @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21 & @pray4jensen

READ ON AO3

The first thing Cas finds out is that he doesn’t feel a single thing.

Like, sure, he feels lost and for the most part, confused. Everything around him is pitch black, he’s alone in what seems like an immensity of nothing.

But he doesn’t feel any physical sensation. He isn’t cold, or hot. His head doesn’t hurt like it has been for the most part of this last year since he became this mixture of beat-up angel/somewhat human on certain aspects. He doesn’t sweat. He pinches himself and doesn’t feel a single shit. And it makes him feel completely distressed.

What the hell did he get himself into this time?

It used to make him laugh grudgingly. Castiel, fallen Angel of the Lord, still somewhat angel-y but not enough to not break a sweat while following the brothers on a hunt, not enough not to request a cheeseburger at the diner every now and then, not enough to pass on a good night sleep every week.

He used to despise emotions. That’s how he was raised, or rather how he was trained. Emotions are inherently human, Castiel. We are not allowed to feel. He could almost still hear the voice in his head, telling him —

But since he descended onto Hell to recover the Righteous Man, since he stared into Dean’s soul to rebuild him and bring him back to the face of the Earth, since this last decade of running around with the Winchesters by his side, Castiel has felt more than he ever thought he’d encountered.

A whirlwind of emotions suddenly overcomes him as he tries and remembers what happened before he ended up here.

Jack being birthed into the world.

Kelly, up in heaven.

Apocalypse World, Crowley killing himself for the greater good (that was a twist), trapping Lucifer.

Lucifer sliding his angel blade across Castiel’s body, as he was coming back to their world facing the Winchester brothers.

The look on Sam and Dean’s faces.

Dean.

The first emotion Castiel had ever felt was curiosity. He wasn’t used to humanity or any of their customs. So whenever he came down on Earth, he’d observed them to try and get a grasp at why humans did things the way they did.

When he first met Sam and Dean, it took him a long while to get used to the way they acted, behaved, or even talked. The fact that Castiel didn’t seem to get any of the references they made usually got them to crack up. Sometimes he still gets lost into their bickering, not fully understanding the reason why anyone would think having an argument over pineapple on pizza at 11 pm would be worth the trouble but after more than a decade with the two grown-men, knowing better than inserting himself into that said argument.

But curiosity always got the best of him. From trying to understand why Dean needed his 4 hours of sleep, to what made Led Zeppelin IV the best album on earth (that’s a wild assumption, but Castiel was willing to hear the hunter’s arguments on that matter).

Then came guilt. It was a peculiar feeling, mixed sensations of shame, bitterness, and sadness, with a hint of anger. Guilt gave Castiel a lot to think about, coming to grip with all these new feelings that he hadn’t experienced for thousands of years.

He felt guilty because heaven made him choose. It was either them or the Winchesters. And at first, he did chose the angels. His family. The only thing he’d ever known. But then masks crumbled and kingdoms fell, and Castiel realized his whole life as a celestial being might have been a big fat lie.

And so he chose humanity. He chose Sam and Dean. He chose them over his own family, and although things this last decade have been challenging, to say the least, he doesn’t regret any of it. Not anymore.

Resentment was a weird feeling to come across. Once again, it mixed other feelings such as anger, sadness, betrayal. But resentment came from a weird place where you’d bottle up this mixture of feelings for a certain amount of time before it actually sweats through the pores of your skin.

Before he first became human, Castiel had never felt resentment. But then the angels fell, Metatron stole his grace, and Cas was left alone on Earth with his new-found humanity. Heartbroken and ashamed, and resentful because no one seemed to care about him anymore. Dean kicked him out of the bunker — he’d later found out why, and although he now understood the reason behind this decision, it doesn’t mean it still stung his heart thinking about it. The man he had sacrificed everything for didn’t want him around. And weirdly enough, at that time, Castiel kind of understood. After all, why would anyone want to be associated with the one who had caused his entire community to fall, his Home to crumble?

The emotions are overflowing him now, which isn’t good. He needs to get it together, figure out a way to get out of here and get back to Earth, to the bunker, to the Winchesters, to Dean.

Castiel sits up and takes his hands to his cheeks, resting his face in the comfort of his palms. They are warm and weirdly welcoming. He closes his eyes, trying to come to grasp with the situation.

No matter what he does, his thoughts always take him back to a familiar, dirty blond, freckled hunter.

Dean had been a lighthouse in the darkness of his numerous battles for over a decade. Someone he’d rushed to after a fight, someone he’d follow into any battle. And now, he was gone. Or rather, Castiel was lost in emptiness, with no way to know if he’d ever return. And that leaves him with bitterness at the bottom of his throat.

If he only had the courage to speak up (or as Dean would say, “to grow a pair and man up”), maybe things would’ve been different, and he wouldn’t be left alone with his doubts and regrets for what seems like an eternity already.

If he had told Dean how he felt every time he looked into his eyes, would it have changed anything? Would things be different if he had stay instead of leaving every time it became too much being locked up in the bunker with the man he was in love with?

Yes, Castiel was in love with Dean Winchester. Deeply, completely, irrevocably, stupidity in love with his entire being.

And it turns out love is a very complicated feeling, and a very challenging emotion to go through. Perhaps the most challenging of all.

Of course, he didn’t realize right away. When he first met Dean, Cas was an entirely different character — he was ruthless, determined, even competitive at the time. Yet he fell for Dean in an entirely unexpected way, without even realizing it at first.

He fell for the cocky bastard who acted like he didn’t trust him but still prayed for him to come down whenever he needed him. He fell for the man who used sarcasm as a parachute for his low self-esteem and ate like cholesterol wasn’t even a real thing. He fell for the man who would rather sacrifice himself so that his loved one could live.

Castiel was in love with Dean Winchester since the very first time he laid eyes on him, and yet here he was, decades later, stuck in a horizon of nothing, lamenting over his biggest failure of them all: never telling him.

Because let’s face it, there was no way Dean would ever return his feelings. Castiel was a brother to the hunter, nothing more. And he never did anything to prove him wrong either. So Cas had locked his feeling deep inside of him and enjoyed every little snippet of joy he could share with the man. Most of all, he tried to convince himself that this was good, that he didn’t need to know, that this was enough.

Bullshit.

It was not.

And it took the angel being locked up in some sort of parallel pitch black dimension of nothing to realize how full of shit he had been.

Sinking further into his own hands, Castiel let a small whimper escape from his throat, pain clinging to his heart like a thousand needles poking at his sorrow.

Pain. Pain was the most common feeling he’d experienced of them all. It appeared in so many ways, sometimes mixed with other feelings, sometimes only physical.

It might have been the worst of them all, too. Because pain never seemed to go away. It always stayed right there, at the back of his head, or hooked to his sleeves, waiting for an opportunity to come down on him and destroy him for a little while.

His worst memories were all associated with this feeling. The pain of being betrayed by his own kind. The pain of being left alone. The pain of arguing with Sam and Dean. The pain of seeing the disappointment on Dean’s face. The pain of killing his own kind. The pain of losing those he loved.

The pain of losing Sam and Dean.

Dean.

Castiel brings his knees to his face, resting over them as he slowly drifts into despair. He needs to go back. He needs to find his way back to Earth. He needs to tell him. Suddenly, all that matters to him is to get the hell out of here and scream at the whole world to let them know how it feels.

How it feels when he catches Dean smiling, bumping his fingers in sync with the music on the wheel while riding shotgun in the Impala after they finished a hunt.

How it feels when he hears Dean’s warm laugh tearing the bunker’s silence apart after they go home and share dinner together.

How it feels when they understand each other without using any words because that’s a thing they’ve developed over the years.

How it feels when Dean wants to share time with him, watching a movie he invariably ends up sleeping in front of after half an hour.

How it feels when Castiel watches him sleep, studying the edges of his face, gazing at how peaceful he seems whenever they’re in the comfort of their home.

A burst of hope suddenly overcomes the angel, causing him to open in his eyes again.

There’s no way he’ll stays stuck in here, wherever that may be. He needs to go back, he demands to go back.

He refuses to stay cuddled up in nothing, stuck with despair and sorrow, buried in regrets. Is this really how the story of “Castiel, Angel of the Lord” is supposed to end?

So he gets up. He screams. In the name of Hope. Because he chooses to believe that his story isn’t over. Because he chooses to believe that hope is bigger than any of the other feelings that are trapped inside of him.

Hope and love are the most powerful forces on the planet, he thinks.

And eventually, the Empty awakes.

He’s coming home.

(If you enjoy reading this, please consider reblogging/liking, and leaving kudos on AO3!)

#reposting cause it got lost in the void #spnstayathome #monday 8: hope #Castiel in the empty #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Destiel #Deancas #Destiel fic #destiel ficlet #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Supernatural #SPN #writer of destiel #ao3 #jus writes: spnstayathome #jus writes

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

All The Qualities of a Winner (Rotox/Detoxxxy) - Dvious

a/n: i went into s5 totally expecting to love jinkx the most - and i did! but i also couldn’t help but sympathize with all of roxxxy’s insecurities and the unfortunate way they expressed themselves, and 2/3 of rolaskatox being all over each other constantly was ridiculous and adorable so i had to produce something about it…

she has all the qualities of a winner, she thinks. for example, she doesn’t want anything sentimental to come up in this competition, anything that reminds her of home.

roxxxy andrews doesn’t need a security blanket. this is a competition, after all, and while she’d expected to recognize some of her fellow competitors, she had no interest in anything that would distract her from showing her best, and showing everyone else up in the process. so it feels a little scary when the two of them so easily fall back into their old patterns, because it looks like vulnerability, like each of them have an achilles heel.

not scary enough for her to stop, though. not scary enough for her to move when they’re squeezed together on couches or at tables, and not scary enough for her to pull her hand away when detox reaches out to grab it.

the night of the very first runway, there are way too many girls for them all to sit comfortably in the lounge. roxxxy catches the scent of mugler perfume and feels the back of the couch sink down behind her, but she doesn’t turn to see who it is.

she already knows.

it’s not like her to doubt herself this way.

ask any of the girls back home, any of the girls she’s competed against in pageantry. roxxxy knows she’s a winner, or at least she tells herself she does, and maybe it’s the newness of everything here - but she’s never felt quite this shaken. it manifests itself in the way her lips purse distastefully whenever jinkx is contouring, the way she nervously babbles her way through confessionals with the main goal of cramming as many reads as she can into two minutes.

so when detox showers her with compliment after compliment in the lounge and roxxxy virtually melts into her chair, she tells herself it’s because she just needed some good old-fashioned praise. she craves validation, but it always seems to come with a side of genuine criticism on the runway. it’s fine, she expected it, she wants to say it’s making her better but instead it makes her vitriolic and confused.

maybe it’s good, then, that she’s been hooked up to a constant iv-drip of bitch you look fucking sickening, sickeningly gorgeous 24/7. she never feels glowing until she’s told she is.

detox tells her she is glowing unceasingly, and roxxxy repeats those words to herself the same way jinkx whispers her mantra onstage. except roxxxy says it in her head, so that she can feel like she needs it less.

she prides herself on her independence.

this is a competition, after all. she’s not here to rely on crutches to get her to the top. in her heart of hearts, she knows that once rolaskatox gets to the top three (and they will, of course), things will change. but for now - when there’s so many of them and she can coast through - it’s easy. she’s getting more used to things, and she’s pretty sure she’s getting better by the week. alaska looks down and purses her lips whenever the judges mention cliques, but roxxxy stares straight ahead, willfully content in their little trio.

i just don’t want to lay it on so thick in front of the judges, y'know, alaska tells them in the workroom. they both agree. but it’s reflexive, detox just won, is roxxxy not supposed to congratulate her? she can see michelle’s eyes flicker over to the way they’re holding one another at the back of the stage, but so what? they’re friends congratulating one another on a job well done, on earning another week to show everyone what they can do…

they start to walk up onstage to congratulate coco for winning the lip sync, and when the two of them inevitably separate, roxxxy’s fingers hook in the mesh of the other queen’s dress. she pulls on it reflexively, and then half-shouts something brash and nonchalant, to make herself look less desperate. but her words are wasted; detox must have some kind of touch-starvation sixth sense and she loops their arms together again. and roxxxy’s smile returns easily to her face again just in time for a camera pan.

by the final three, she won’t need this, roxxxy thinks. she’ll be on her own, in the center of the stage, a crown on her head.

as a rule, roxxxy loves crowds.

there’s really nothing like strutting your stuff in a sequinsed gown to the roar of an auditorium filled with adoring fans. or lip syncing to the perfect j.lo song with a backdrop of cheering and clapping. a silent crowd, however - staring up at her as she shuffles her notes and tries to roast the straight-faced panel - is another thing entirely. as she steps to the side she takes solace in the fact that she at least was second to go, so they really won’t remember how bad she was. hell, all the other girls had at least one or two sullen responses from the crowd. she’s good to go, probably. it’s still a disgusting feeling, having everyone look at her like that in silence and reading her own failure in their eyes.

but even if she doesn’t feel as confident as usual it’s important to project confidence, which is why she’s so nonchalant in the lounge when they talk about their childhoods. she’s not about to give a sob story to everyone; the point of her explanation is to get it over with as quickly as possible so that everyone thinks about how impressive it is that she’s gotten over it so well. roxxxy presses her fingertips into the jewels of her ring, over and over again, leaving imprints on her skin and wondering why she’s so resistant to the spotlight tonight when she’s normally out to steal it.

she is in the bottom two for the first time, against the consummate performer of the season, the pageant girl with spice. she thinks she turned it out, but she really doesn’t know because she could hardly see alyssa through the hair they were both whipping around. here she is, in front of a much smaller crowd, but this time she’s finding out how badly she failed instead of whether she’ll be first place or runner-up. her throat feels tight with shame and when rupaul asks her what’s wrong, she fumbles her way through a response twice until before she knows it she’s sobbing - which is so ridiculous to do on a runway of all places and she wants to curl up and hide and never let anyone see her ever again.

she regains her composure, kind of, because that’s what she does. she prepares herself to give a gracious smile, in preparation for when alyssa will be told to stay, but the moment never comes. she gets to stay, too, and when she bursts into tears alyssa is the first one to make it to her for a hug. she feels detox pulling her close and kissing her hair clumsily (god that lip gloss will be hard to get out) and then the wave of everyone else’s arms around them. she feels hidden. protected.

she feels enveloped in a crowd, unseen but a spectacle at the same time, safe.

competition is where roxxxy thrives.

hell, she’s based her entire career on voluntarily competing and being judged and being the best. she thinks of it as her forte - a place where everything else falls away and, ideally, she is rewarded with recognition for all the work she’s done. it’s not a competition about being yourself, roxxxy thinks sourly when jinkx says she’s made it this far because she’s true to herself. it’s a competition about being the best. so what if jinkx is good at comedy, and acting, and singing, and being charismatic, and all of that stuff. drag is about sewing and makeup and looking untouchably fierce and having a presence. roxxxy repeats this internal monologue to herself at least ten times a day. she eats licorice strings and fumes and glares at her dress form. no matter how many times she tries to read jinkx to filth, she comes away feeling worse. it makes absolutely no sense to her.

she troubleshoots the sewing machine once every ten minutes or so for detox, and spends the entire time shooting shady comments in jinkx’s direction. the redhead won’t say anything to them anymore, painting on her contour in the mirror with a face of stony focus. roxxxy’s fingertips tingle with a combination of fear and anticipation. rolaskatox top three! she yells over her shoulder as they leave the workroom for the runway, but it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than celebrate.

even through the lip sync she fiddles with the licorice strings, telling herself she’ll be so happy when rupaul announces detox is staying and she can relax. in fact, by the time rupaul gives jinkx her spot in the final three, roxxxy is so shocked that even when her lips start trembling and her brow furrows she refuses to believe it. her pageant smile returns reflexively as they quickly swarm the stage for a goodbye hug before the producers corral them away; she catches the scent of mugler perfume again. she thinks it starts with an a. angel or alien or awesome or something. it’s perfect. it makes her throat feel tight and her eyes sting with unshed tears.

she watches the last swish of chiffon disappear backstage. a licorice string has fallen off her dress and lays at her feet. she is in the top three; she is a finalist; she has almost proven that she is good enough to win.

roxxxy beams at the judges. she feels a little empty, a little hollow, like a piece of her has been removed.

this is where she’ll show her very best.

now is the time to prove that she really does deserve to be here, that rolaskatox is as sickening apart as they were together; time to pull out her sparkliest gowns and her tightest corsets.

instead, as she reads her note from detox, something ugly and vindictive bubbles inside her. jinkx’s presence doesn’t fit here; her spot should have gone to someone else, someone more deserving and neon and angrier. everything that comes out of roxxxy’s mouth is dripping with venom, some of it even directed towards alaska. she smirks and taunts her way through the workroom on those last few days, feeling less focused than ever. she spends the majority of their final challenge trying to get herself to do not as well as she can do, but just better than everyone else. all the while she sulks in her head about how of course their final challenge is some comedy acting thing where it doesn’t matter that her contour is more snatched than jinkx’s or that the wig looks better on her than alaska. she can’t judge herself by this yardstick, not when the other two are better than her.

she thinks she brings it for the runway, at least, except when she has to give her speech. compared to jinkx it sounds far too pageanty (more polished? she hopes desperately) and compared to alaska it sounds far less funny (more professional? she thinks, grasping for something there). it sounds like herself, she thinks.

she wishes she could take it less seriously. in roxxxy’s mind, jinkx has been coasting, how can you take comedy seriously? she can’t fit the pieces together in her head to understand and she’s done trying. all she can repeat to herself over and over is that, well, she takes it seriously, drag is serious to her, she’s better, she’s good at it, she has to be.

in the weeks following, she feels a different kind of shame.

the embarrassment of watching herself try so hard to fuck over someone else is enough to make her shy away from any type of stage for a while. but the reunion and crowning is coming up anyways, and even if roxxxy’s pretty sure she won’t be standing there basking in the glory of being a drag superstar, she still has to sit there on stage and hear the results.

and they’re what she expected; and her smile flickers to life right on cue; and it still hurts so badly, as much as if rupaul looked her in the eye and personally told her you are simply not as worthy as everyone else.

confetti rains from the ceiling. she doesn’t feel the burning resentment that she did when she’d last seen jinkx, but she doesn’t feel any better like this, either. at the afterparty she spends a lot of time taking shots with alaska, the two of them so boxed in by the crowd that they can’t move from the bar (not like either of them are complaining). when roxxxy finally extricates herself, she has no issue finding the person she wants. it’s an unusual subversion, seeing the most colorful person in the room appear in black and white.

hi honey, detox says, you look so pretty, and slips her arm around roxxxy’s waist. roxxxy is far too proud to ask for comfort. instead she says ohmymgod you look friggin’ insane, which doesn’t sound like the compliment she meant it to be, but it’s okay. her intention was there, and understood; and she is here, and understood, and roxxxy laces their hands together. they have their drinks and they look fucking great, and they’re together, and that’s really all she could have asked for.

she smells that perfume again, leans in close and lets the waves of praise encircle her, give her solace.

she is enough.

#rpdr fanfiction #roxxxy andrews #detox icunt #detox x roxxxy #canon compliant #dvious #submission #s5 #on set fic

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buckys-forgotten-plum · 4 years

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The One Who Came After

Prompt- To normal Terrans, the Tesseract was strange and confusing, no one really understood how powerful it was or what it really did. That was until you came along...

Warning- Endgame Spoilers (Does that even need to be a warning anymore?), cursing, angst, maybe smut at some point idk

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It had only been a minute since the dust had settled, since Tony had taken his last breath and was being tended to by a crowd of medics, since Thanos had taken his and was left alone. No one had the time to sit down and recuperate, to come to the realization that it was actually over. Pepper was still beside her fallen husband, along with Peter and Rhodey. Sam, Steve and Bucky were all together, making a plan to scout out all of the injured. At this point, nothing could surprise any of them, each person's soul, body and mind was drained of all feeling.

So, when a bright blue flash of light erupted a few feet away from the fallen hero, it seemed like some robotic movement to everyone as they turn and point every weapon available at the sudden movement.

“Which one of you mortals...keeps fucking... With. My. Stone,” Your breathing was labored and each word was a desperate, dry wheeze.

It took everything in your entire being to not drop down and pass out. Within a week (your worlds week anyway) the universe your world resided in had been flipped upside down three separate times. It had taken an entire unit from each planet to keep the universe from collapsing on itself, and after the third strike, they sent you out to see what in the ever living fuck was happening.

“Who are you? What do you want?” You turned to see a tall, blonde man walking towards you, a hammer and shield in hand.

“I want to know who the hell keeps trying to turn my universe inside out like it’s some kind of reversible jacket!” you growl out, meeting the strangers gaze and refusing to back down, “Don’t you dipshits know to never mess with another universes stones? W-who are you to decide what ha-happens with my world?”

The exhaustion that racked your body made it hard to focus on the figure that stood directly in front of you, and it didn’t take long for you to fall down to your knees. “You-you have no idea-” your vision blurred and you had to place a hand on the ground to steady yourself.

The man who originally approached you knelt down to your height, forgetting about the threat you might have imposed and making sure that you weren’t about to die, “Okay, okay. We can talk about this a little later, we’re all exhausted and need to deal with...things” The stranger states, glancing around at all of the injured and fallen soldiers.

“What happened here?” you ask quietly, weakly looking up into the man’s bright blue eyes.

You didn’t get to hear his reply before your consciousness slipped into the darkness.

---------------------------------------------------

“S-so, let me get this straight...” Dr. Banner mutters before looking you in the eyes, “You’re from a different universe? Dimension? Thing? That resides inside the Tesseract, and almost falls apart every time the tesseract is used?”

“Yes, I came here to stop whoever was having the bright idea to activate it every five goddamn minutes,” you mutter out groggily, fisting the burn of sleep from your eyes, “which turned out to be a pack of nimrods that, where I’m from, wouldn’t do any of this shit-“

“How’d you travel here? Get outside of the tesseract?” Steve, asked curiously, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“Some magical shit that this dude-“ you lazily motion toward the man in the red cape, “did, I’m not sure what he called it. It doesn’t matter anyways, what matters is that you stop using that stone or I’ll kill you all,”

“Trust me sweetheart, we just defeated the most powerful being in the universe, you don’t have a chance,” scoffs a man from the corner of the room, stripping himself of his red tinted goggles and placing them on a small table next to him.

“Hey bird boy, we didn’t have to fight him twice in my universe. Oh and your goggles look stupid,” you snap, glaring at the man who now looked at you with shock and anger in his gaze

You didn’t have the energy to deal with this group of random miscreants. You recognized all of them, though. Each one was a part of your world back at home, but none as important there as they are here.

“Your from an alternate dimension where Thanos didn’t win the first time?” Dr. Banner asks from his corner by a lab table.

“Um yeah. My team got to him when we found out he was the cause behind the Loki disaster in Los Angeles. We knew he would be a future threat so we didn’t let it get out of control...unlike you guys who almost let your entire universe get destroyed,” the harsh pain in your head hadn’t subsided and you really wished these bafoons would leave you alone.

“There’s a Loki in your dimension too?” You looked at the...thick...version of Thor before answering.

“Yeah Pillsbury doughboy, he’s alive and well there too. Yours isn’t though, I can tell from the emptiness radiated from your body,” your comment was thoughtless as your powers weren’t a big deal back home. Almost everyone had them, the special few were the ones who were born sterile of all supernatural genes.

The room fell into silence after your words and some of the onlookers left the room, including Thor. You were left to be stared at by Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts and a young boy who you hadn’t recognized.

“I-is Mr. Stark alive in your dimension?” The boy asked, tears falling from his has as his trembling body struggled to keep upright.

You managed the strength to get off the examination table and walk up to the poor boy, “if it makes you feel any better kid, in my universe, Tony Stark retired and is living an ordinary life with his daughter and wife in Tahoe. Has been for the last five years of his life. But let me tell you, your Tony did an immeasurable thing to save an immeasurable amount of lives. Is he still here?” You ask quietly. You felt the piercing hurt from this lost boy and easily found it within you to try and help, forgetting about the pain these people had caused your world.

“Why? What do you want with him?” Steve asked crudely, a hard stare set your way.

“I can help him. I know I might seem like a threat but tell me, what more could I do to this world that hasn’t already been done?” Your statement seemed heavy on the three pairs of eyes that followed your lumbering movements as you clumsily made the short journey to the door, “please let me help you so you can help me,”

Miss Pepper Potts was the one to move first, quickly helping you out of the room and into the quiet corridor where she proceeded to lead you to another medical room. This one was filled with machines and IV poles, all of them hooking up to one, completely broken man.

“He’s brain dead, can’t breath on his own, his heart stopped beating on its own, almost all of his bones are broken, lungs are punctured...h-he isn’t even really living right now,” Pepper choked on her words, a trembling hand covering her mouth to mask the sobs that bubbles up from her throat.

“I can help, just, be ready to catch me when I pass out,” you mumble calmly and walk up to the lifeless body.

You knew this had to be done. It would hurt but these people needed this man.

Though it was normal to have some form of powers in your universe, it wasn’t necessarily normal to have the type of powers you specifically possessed. Sure everyone had some for of mild self healing, but yours was a bit different.

“Tell me what the biggest issues with him are again,”

At this point Steve and the broken boy had entered the room and were watching from the doorway.

“I-I can’t remember it all-“ “it’s okay, just tell me the body parts and I can heal them,”

“Brain, heart, and-and his lungs,” she shot out quickly as you placed your hands on his chest and forehead.

“Okay, y/n, don’t freak out...” you mumble to yourself, “Please don’t touch either of us before it’s done. It could mess up the process,” the warning was short and you left little time after for the others to agree before a bright blue light seeped from your hands and into Tony’s body.

Pain instantly went into your brain, heart and lungs and you had to lean onto the man so you wouldn’t collapse to the floor. “Come on, come on,” you mumble and strengthen the flow of energy from your body to his.

You let out a loud groan of pain as the process finally started to work properly. You could heal anyone, anything you wanted. That’s what made you special, but there were always two sides to ones powers where you were from, and the other side of yours was taking parts of the victims injuries and moving them to your own body. You thankfully had a say of which injuries you would take on but you had to take on a certain amount for your powers to work. At this point in time you chose to take on a few broken bones and a couple of punctures to your lungs. Best to spread out the pain than focus on one area.

“Somebody. Call, Dr. Banner,” you call out the order and put your last efforts into healing the parts of his brain that were damaged the most and suddenly there was a different source of wheezing and coughing in the room.

Tony had woken up.

“Oh my god!” Pepper gasped, a trembling hand shooting out to cover her mouth.

The teenager that had remained quiet for most of your consciousness suddenly broke out into violent sobs and fell to his knees, quickly being comforted by Pepper wrapping her arms around his shaking form.

“Tony can you hear me?” Your eyes found his and it only to a moment before he shook his head, wheezing out a quiet ‘yes’.

“Alright, Alright. You’re gonna be okay, y-your gonna be fine. Stay calm, I know it f-feels weird but you can’t fight it. don’t fight it,” your words began to slur together as your consciousness started to slip away.

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A/N: yeah that’s right, i'm writing another series when I have no time or effort stored away to properly finish this or any of my other series or drafts. Please enjoy and don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!

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canumoveurseatup-no · 5 years

Text

Bex's Masterlist!

Hi, I’m Bexie! A masterlist was highly requested so here it is! I will add more along as we go! Hope you enjoy and remember, Feedback is appreciated on my works <3

Updated: july 27, 2021

NOTE: All my stories will have a black reader! Some of my smuts are not for the faint of heart so beware!! and please DO NOT REPOST MY WORK

Angst (A) Smut (S) Fluff (F) Trigger Warning (TW) Author’s Fav (AF)

Stucky:

Masking (A, cg/l dynamics 18+)

-sharon is and always will be a bully especially in your little state. it takes a while for Steve and Bucky to catch on. who knew trained agents could be so oblivious?

Fallen Flower Petals (A, F, AF)

-the one where Sharon comes back and reconnects with Steve while Nat and Bucky reconnect and you’re left sullen

Hymns to Heal a Broken Heart (A, F)

-Civil war tore you apart. You missed Bucky and Steve, what happens when they come back and there’s a major change?

Steve:

Myself (A, AF)

-You loved Steve more than you loved yourself. But was that enough?

Rot (Myself Part 2) w/ Doctor Strange (A, F)

-It’s easy to say you’re over someone if you aren’t seeing them. The real challenge is to look them in the eyes and see their smile and hear their voice and still be able to say “this is not what I want anymore”

Tell Me (Myself Part 3 18+) w/ Doctor Strange (A, S, F)

-Ever since that night at the party where you ran into Steve, your mind has been elsewhere and you’ve fallen back into the same uncomplacent tendencies from when you were with him. You just need Stephen to tell you on thing.

Lush 18+ (S)

-The team gives Steve some options to help blow off some steam. Little did he know he’d come face to face with you in one of those chat rooms.

Lush pt.2 18+ (S)

-You and Steve have now set the rules for your new relationship and things are going extremely well. With an influx of college work and trying to do well with your internship, you get too deep into your own head and Steve is there to help you release that stress.

Lush 3 (w/ Bucky) 18+ (S)

-it’s time for another show and this time you have a new toy

Lush 4 (S, A, F)

-you and steve have some alone time. no cameras, no bucky. just you, steve and vulnerability.

In the Dark (Myself pt.4) w/ Doctor Strange (A)

-You and Stephen were now going strong and you couldn’t be happier. Stephen meets up with Steve and they exchange a few words.

Save Me (Myself pt.5) w/ Doctor Strange (A)

-Will Stephen save you in enough time before Steve takes you somewhere completely off the grid? Before Steve’s mind gets the best of him and he goes over the edge?

Voir Dire (Myself Finale) w Doctor Strange (A)

-the end is getting near and you’re getting scared. Will you be saved? And will the truth of Steve’s actions be revealed?

Voir Dire (alternate ending #1) (A)

Voir Dire (alternate ending #2) (A)

Nothing More (A, F)

-headcanon where Steve gets insecure due to your friendship with Sam.

Belonging (A)

-life was wonderful for you and steve but when the opportunity to go back arises… does he take it?

Oh Lord (18+) (part 1 to the Halo Boy and Horn Girl series) (S)

-cast the devil away

Witching Hour (18+) (S)

-(part 2 to the Halo Boy and Horn Girl series) Steve struggles adjusting to life without his wings. You share his pain.

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Tony

Footsteps (A, F)

-You being Tony Stark’s only child, you though you’d be his prize possession but no...

"Protocol" My Ass! (A)

- Tony realized silence in situations of injustice is acceptance of injustice. So he’s using his place in society to speak the hell up and stand up for what is right.

Little Girls Like You 18+ (S)

-It’s little girls like you that don’t know how to keep their mouth shut unless it’s stuffed.

Little Girls Like You pt.2 (18+) (A, S)

-Your mother starts working from home for a while and that leaves less time for you and Tony to continue your rendezvous. One night you hear your mother and Tony going at it and it sparks something in you to get back at him.

Baby Boy 18+ (S)

-Tony always takes care of everyone and it takes a toll on him. You take matters into your own hands and show him he doesn’t always have to be the big guy.

Baby Boy pt.2 (18+) (S)

-After you too control in the bedroom, Tony can’t help but want more so he purposely sets you up in a situation that he knows will make you explode

Baby Boy pt. 3 (18+) (S)

-tony just needs a release and so do you

Ready (18+ because of trigger warning) (A, TW)

-You’re going through some personal battles and don’t want to talk about it. Tony realizes something is wrong when it’s too late.

I Wasn’t Ready (EG spoiler, loose sequel to Ready) (A)

-parent’s teach you a lot of things, prepare you for a lot of things to face in life... but what they don’t prepare you for is to be ready when it’s their time.

Pop-pop’s Babysitting Chronicles (pt. 3 to the Honeybee Series) (F)

-You and Bucky took some time for yourselves and went on a vacation. Annalise wants pop-pop to babysit and this is just a peak into the babysitting chronicles.

Teddy Bear (18+) (F)

-It was hard trying to hide your secret as a Little. Until it wasn’t a secret to a certain someone anymore.

Luxury of Loving You (18+) (F, S)

- Dating Tony is a full package. Sure he has the cars and the money. But it’s the late study sessions that turn into more, the date nights and university adventures that you value most.

Luxury of Loving You (ii) (A)

-it’s all okay until it’s not

Luxury of Loving You (iii) (A)

-as you and tony’s relationship continues to grow, it’s only a matter of time before you meet each other’s parents. tony isn’t sure that’s such a good idea.

Luxury of Loving You (iv) (A)

-you and Pepper get close under unexpected circumstances and it leaves Tony confused and concerned.

The Art of Intimacy (18+) (S)

-nights alone with tony where there’s no evil to fight always bring the best events.

Survive- prologue (A)

-tony has to risk his life to save yours. you may be the secret to saving all human from the worsening zombie apocalypse.

Survive- Where it all Started (A)

-no one knows how it began, all they know is that it’s here.

--------

Bucky

Puffballs (A, F)

-You and Bucky’s daughter starts to have some self identity and self-image issues at a young age. Bucky lets his daughter know there is nothing wrong with that she was given

Subdue (A, S)

-Reader kind of has a hulk of her own. Despite her and Bucky’s no secrets rule, she kept this from him until one day he finds out in a way she didn’t want him to.

Shadow and Shade (Part 1) (A)

-You, the Goddess of Night, oldest Goddess in Greek mythology, find yourself on the team with Earths’s mightiest heroes. The brooding man seems to be the only comforting thing during your transition.

Shadow and Shade pt.2 (A, F)

-You let the team know that your son, Thanatos, is soon to come and though you don’t know what he plans on doing, you recruit all the help you can get. Bucky and the team meets your kids and in the midst of all the trouble, he wants to get used to you and your life.

Shadow and Shade Casting Lists: Part 1- Part 2 - Part 3

Shadow and Shade pt.3 (A)

-Training has begun, bonds are being made, but you can’t shake the feeling of knowing that they’ll be broken because things might not work out 100% like you want

The Mission (Pt 2 of Puffballs. The second installment to the Honeybee series) (A, F)

-You went on a mission and while tying to save everyone you could, it wasn’t enough. You go home and the dynamic of your family changes because of it.

Nerves (part 4/ prequel to the Honeybee Series) (A, F)

-prequel to the Honeybee series where Bucky finds out you’re pregnant and everything that ensues after.

The Gift Of Life (part 5 to the Honeybee Series) (A, F)

-father’s day is coming up and bucky tells you want he wants for his gift.

Coloring Book Adventures (18+) (S, AF)

-As a way to stay abstinent, you color in coloring books to distract you when you feel sexual urges. That’s until your father’s gardener comes to play

Coloring Book Adventures pt.2 (18+) (S, F)

- Though Bucky has finished the garden, he still visits you during the day tp help you color more pretty pictures. He takes you on adventures outside of your garden and you experience so much more of life and feelings you don’t know

Coloring Book Adventures pt.3 (18+) (A, F)

-You and Bucky tell your parents that you have been seeing each other. Once the truth comes out, it’s all a domino effect

Knots (18+) (S)

-You tell Bucky you want to be dominated in the bedroom and he pulls all the strings to make it wonderful for you... or should you say ropes?

Lush 3 (w/ Steve) 18+ (S)

Behind Closed Doors (A, F)

-It’s the 40s and you find yourself falling for a certain Sergeant. You know it’s hard for you in a time like this but the love you two have for one another in insurmountable.

Not You (A)

-bucky wasn’t supposed to be the one to hurt you. not like this.

Not You pt.2 (A)

-you’re still getting used to the idea that bucky and winter soldier are two different people

Say ‘I love you” Before You Leave (A)

-you and bucky are going through a rough patch in your marriage

The Fear of Starting Over Pt. 2 (A, TW)

-sometimes staying in a toxic situation sounds safer than starting over.

Act Four: Lucky Hand (part 6 of Listening party) (S)

-you love to see the glimmer of silver, now you get to see it up close and personal

Colors (A, TW)

-a series of describing colors without using its name.

--------

Natasha

Underestimated Butterfly (A)

-One thing you hate is being underestimated and you’re put to the test when your dead past comes back to life.

Ant Farm (F)

-davina wants an ant farm… but why?

Humanity (A, F)

-you’ve flipped the switch to your humanity and there’s only one person who can bring you back

Just a Minute (A)

-a minute turned into never

Act Two: Rock, Paper... (pt. 4 of Listening Party) (S)

-time to stick your hand back in the blind bag and the next one is revealed

----------

Clint

Call of the Void (18+ and w/Pietro) playlist (S, F)

-you’re the rock star heartbreaker but Clint wants to change that and it took him a long time to do so, he finally introduces you to the team and come to find a certain speedster can’t help but head of heels for you.

Forget Me Not (18+ due to cg/l dynamic) (A, F)

-clint is your caregiver but it doesn’t feel like it when nat goes into little space and bucky is away so he’s second in command to take care of her.

Act One: Sensory Deprivation (pt. 3 to Listening Party) (S)

-the solo fun begins and clint is the first to play

-------------------------------------

Wanda

Phantom (A)

-Reader’s powers get a bit out of control and sort of instills fear in the others. Some hurtful words are said, hearts are broken.

Aches of the Heart (A)

-friends with benefits never ended well, did they?

WIsh I Could Tell You (AotH pt.2) (A)

-you and wanda try to move on from each other

---------

Pietro

Call of the Void (18+ and with Clint) (S, F)

Easter Egg Hunts (18+ because of CG/L dynamics) (F)

-who doesn’t love Easter? And Easter egg hunts?!

Peter

99 Cent Store (A)

-He could have built you a whole 99 cent store with all the cheap lies he sold you. But were they really cheap?

Tie Me Down 18+ (S)

-Peter was never the kind to be dominant. He had trouble asserting himself when it came to everyday tasks. So it didn’t surprise you when he finally admitted he likes to be controlled in the bedroom.

Fortress (A)

-he doesn’t get in your brain, he doesn’t fill up the spaces. you don’t whisper his name now that you’ve built a fortress.

---------

Thor

Blue Push Pops (A, F)

-Everyone has their own way of coping with anxiety, Thor knows that. But he gets confused whenever he sees his girlfriend pull out a blue push pop. But his confusion grows when he finds her bedside table drawer full of them

Ruin Me 18+ (S)

-teasing Thor was always fun. Especially when you worked him up so much he has no choice but to ravish you for all you’re worth.

I’m Leaving Soon (A)

-sometimes there’s only one way to handle things, it may suck but you feel it in your gut that it has to be this way

Act Three: What’s a king to a God? (pt. 5 of Listening Party) (S)

-who knew the sweetest of them all could be so disgusting in a way that had you drooling and wanting more?

---------

Bruce

Date Night (18+) (A, S)

-Bruce keeps missing date night and he feels bad about it so he does his best to try and make it up to the reader.

Bruce discovering her has a daddy kink (Headcanon) (18+) (S)

Dr. Daddy (18+) (F)

-You’ve come down with the flu and there’s only one person who can make it better

Listening Party (18+) (S)

-he can’t get enough of you and the others like to hear it.

Front Row Seats (18+ w/ the team) (S)

-why listen when they can just watch? and maybe even… participate?

----------

Sam

Authentic Intelligence (S)

-F.R.I.DA.Y becomes personified as a beautiful black woman and has her eyes on Sam. Though it’s weird for him, he reciprocates the attraction.

Shin Kicks and Wall Sits (18+ because of CG/L dynamics) (F)

-you’re a brat through and through and can’t help it. Sam sets you straight.

Dark Room (A, TW)

-grow through what you go through.

Shadows Dance (dark room pt. 2) (A, TW)

-your pain is their dance floor.

-----------

Doctor Strange

Rot (Myself pt. 2) (A)

Tell Me (Myself pt.3 18+) (A, S)

In the Dark (Myself pt.4) (A)

Save Me (Myself pt.5) (A)

Voir Dire (Myself finale) (A)

-----------

Loki

Outlaws 18+ (A)

-It’s easy for a good girl to go bad. But once they’re gone, best believe they’re gone forever.

Outlaws pt.2 (A)

-While wreaking havoc around the nation, it became a little lonely with just you and Loki, so you bring some friends along for the ride

---------

All Avengers

Shy/Innocent Black!Reader Roasting the Team (headcannon) (F)

Avengers as Vines (F)

Avengers as Weird Shit I’ve Said (F)

Avengers as Youtubers (F)

Avengers as Different Water Brands (F)

------

Random Works

You and Chris bet on the Super Bowl and he wins (headcanon) 18+ (S)

Headcanon: Pietro walks in on your dance session

Ascension (Chase Collins) (A, F)

-When Chase was on his power hungry rampage, you helped him push through. Now you’re about to ascend and the boys find out. You find yourself in the same shoes as Caleb when one of your sisters come after your power

Not Some Ken Doll (Thanos smut)

-the fate of the world falls on you, or better yet, what’s in your pants.

More coming soon <3

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aikatxt · 4 years

Text

in empty fields beneath neon lights

i. wings

my grandmother used to have the walls of her house covered in insect wings, pinned against cork boards and kept safe behind a wall of glass. hundreds of brown moth wings, put up for display. in the sitting room, the prettiest wings were left for guest to peer at; vibrant blues and reds and oranges, stripes and stained glass patterns.

i don’t know what happened to all those insect wings. the house seemed to dim and darken, then crumble after she died. the glass-like dragonfly wings vanished; those were the ones that captivated me most in my early years.

i wonder what it means that i can only think of the dead when i see a dragonfly pass by.

the cemetery where my grandmother is buried is old; like everything else in small towns, it has a history we’ve all forgotten. but i don’t visit for my grandmother most days. no, it’s the weather-worn angel that always catches my attention. i know it stands guard over an empty grave; they never found her body, and after twenty years, it’s clear she will always be a case that cannot be solved.

its wings are chipped and grey, hands clasped and the stone veil over its head gives only the faintest hint of a face.

the name on the headstone it stands over reads:

Myra Victoria Ksapre

July 15, 1981 - 2009

Lost, but never Forgotten

i wonder about her sometimes. leave flowers at my grandmother’s grave, then sit before the memory of myra and quietly tell her about the butterflies that often rest on her angel’s shoulders.

there is something enchanting about watching a butterfly flutter its wings, gently moving them to keep the wind from blowing it over. i think of my grandmother teaching me how to pull apart a butterfly without damaging the wings, of her hands cradling the tiny corpse, of those hands on my shoulder as she instructs me on how to pin it up.

i leave, and the butterflies keep their wings.

ii. neon

they’ve added more lights since i was last here. like everyone else my age, i had longed to leave the slow, tired life a our small town behind. unlike most of them, i managed to find my way out into the world and tried to leave the past behind me.

it’s an old story: running away and becoming someone else. and it always ends the same.

i come back, and my ghosts remain with me.

i haven’t told my mother that i’m back yet. i haven’t spoken to my father in six years. so i leave my suitcase against the wall of this small hotel room and look out over the once familiar streets. it’s near midnight, and the neon green sign for the next door bar illuminates the street and transforms the groups of stumbling, laughing people into something more magical.

a moth flies by, moving sporadically, up and down but forwards nonetheless. i watch it fly towards the neon sign that spells the hotel’s name. it’s too small for me to keep sight of as it moves away from my window, but i can clearly imagine the little moth hitting the light and the heat ending its life quickly and painfully.

a memory returns to me suddenly: a humid summer night, laughing as i chased after fireflies in a grassy field, my grandmother cradling a moth in her hands and my grandfather speaking to someone in hushed tones near their old car.

it’s been a long time since i last thought of them. been a long time since they were buried.

though it’s past midnight, i doubted that i would get any sleep soon, so i head down to the bar across the street in the hopes that a drink would get my mind off of things. the neon lights feel nostalgic in a strange way and i am suddenly struck with the realization that my youth is gone, escaped me years ago and i was too focused on running away to notice.

on a cork board stuck outside the old movie theater that closed down when i was in middle school, i see myra’s face suddenly, half hidden in shadow. the missing sign is weathered and worn, but her smile hasn’t changed.

the only people who can keep their youth are the ones who die young.

iii. roses

the house has fallen apart. faded graffiti decorates the walls both inside and outside. the yard my grandmother once cared for is overgrown and wild.

on the edge of the town, with the nearest neighbor being a mile down the dirt road, it’s clear that this house has been forgotten. no one wants to buy it, so no one wants to fix it up. abandoned, my grandparent’s house is slowly being reclaimed by nature.

the rose bushes my mother helped plant have grown large and unruly. they cling to the chain-link fence that surrounds the house. i have to wrestle with the branches just to open the gate, and thorns cut through my skin as i make my way up the barely visible path to the front door.

the lock on the door has been broken. i’m sure the bolder teenagers must have broken in, telling each other ghost stories and scaring each other as they looked through the aging rooms of the house.

with the early afternoon light coming in through broken and dusty windows, the house is filled with golden light. the floorboards creak under my feet as i walk around, looking at how a place once so familiar has changed. though the frames filled with insect wings and bodies have disappeared, couches and tables have been left behind. the dining table still has the marks made by a seven year old me trying to saw through it with a butter knife.

i wander aimlessly. i don’t try to go upstairs; the wood is old and decayed and though i may not care much for my own health, i still don’t want to fall through the steps.

there’s a door in the hallway i don’t remember. it opens easily, the hinges loud in the silent house, and any light that makes it through the windows disappears here. there’s a staircase that goes down into darkness.

i would have remembered this. why don’t i?

with my phone as a flashlight, i descend.

iv. chalk

it smells like mold and dust, so strong it feels like it coats the inside of my mouth. i put a hand over my mouth and nose and force myself forward.

there are no windows. there’s not much of anything. but against the walls, i find a few frames, glass cracked, holding the dusty remains of insects. the dragonflies are among them. i want to take them back up, pack them beneath the clothes in my suitcase, but my eyes keep going back to the far corner of the basement.

i can’t see anything, but i know something is there.

heart in my throat, i make my way deeper; the walls seem to press down on me, a part of me screams to run away and never come back, but i force myself to put one foot in front of the other. i accidentally kick something, and when i look down, i see green chalk slowly rolling away from me.

distantly i remember my mother talking to my grandmother: ‘i never did find my chalk after that summer. and you never bought me any again. did you ever tell me why?’ my grandmother’s elusive smiles, her apple cakes, her insects. the old photographs in the family albums of my mother as a child, drawing colorful illustrations on the concrete of the garage.

when i look up, the light of my phone illuminates the bones peeking out of old clothes, the type my mother wore when she was younger.

“it was my father you know,” says a girl emerging from the shadows. her features are blurry. “asked your father to hide me down here and never speak a word of it. what do you think of that, sophie? your best friend beneath you and you never noticed.”

this girl mistook me for my mother. a dreadful understanding dawned on me.

“sophie is my mother. she never told me that she knew you.”

“your mother? how long has it been?”

she steps closer. it’s easier to see her now. see that same face, the same eyes as those missing posters, just without the smile.

“very long. we’re a small town. your disappearance turned you into a legend, myra.”

“they did the same thing to johann when i was still alive.” she stops just a few feet away from me. “i need you to do something for me,” she says.

i stare at her, the girl whose empty grave i sat near, whose face haunted my entire life in this town, whose memory was only shared in whispers and tears.

“anything,” i promise.

v. rituals

i wonder if my grandmother knew. she must have; the missing chalk she kept from my mother means she must have seen the body. the questions i asked as a child about myra had been answered with the words found in the news about her disappearance. i wonder if her hands that pulled apart insects were red with the blood of others.

my mother must never know. no one can ever know.

myra’s father and my grandfather are dead. who would take on the consequences of a murder over twenty years old?

i go back to my hotel room. i text my mother and promise to visit her in two days. i shower and get a drink. i go through the slow ritual of getting ready for bed, thoughts a thousand miles away. i dream of myra, young and alive, and wonder why?

these are answers i will never have. this is a secret i will carry to my grave. the sins of my grandfather are the ones i must bear. my grandmother had me well acquainted with death before i ever entered school. i can carry another ghost.

i leave at one in the morning. i let the rose bushes take their share of my blood, then put myra’s bones in a large trash bag. when i leave, i pluck off a rose for her, then another just to rip off the petals. i sneak into the cemetery, where nearly every light is as dead as the people inside. it takes me another hour to dig up her empty grave and lay her bones to rest.

“thank you,” she whispers from behind me. i don’t turn around. i fill in the grave.

when the sun begins to rise, i toss the trash bag and shovel into a dumpster down the street. when i come back, the sunlight falls upon the stone angel like a halo. the dead are at rest. her case will never be solved. i alone will know where she was hidden.

at the feet of the angel is a dead butterfly. i reach out and tear off its wings.

the apple never falls too far from the tree after all.

#short story #nosebleedclub #inkstay #writerscreed #spilled ink #prose #original writing #cw: insects #cw: death #cw: ghosts #cw: murder #idk how to tag this

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