#I would have died of alcohol poisoning like twice over probably

[the-amalgam-house]

Fuck the fucking thoughts! The last memories I have of my dad pre-addiction pre-anger explosions were literally worn I was SIX years old... he became a cop with I was 8, I have no idea where 7 went, and he started drinking and being incredibly angry and just.

He'd been that way ever since. I know it's PTSD. It manifests in anger and alcoholism. Even now he has so much trouble keeping away, even if overall he's softened on the after part.

My brother never really got to see him without the drink and without the anger. His whole entire self aware life had just been that version of Papi. He never got to see the man I knew. There's still a good bit of that man in there and you can see it in his tender/sober/stable moments. He loves children and he's always had this sense of pride and being self sufficient. But my siblings never really got to see the non angry man that was our dad. I was old enough to remember.

The drinking poisoned him...or, well, the police force maybe did it first. Idk. He hurt us so much, and honestly I can only be but so mad at him now, knowing that he himself was hurting. Hurt people hurt people after all. And you can never again be a previous version of yourself, so there's no real use in wishing there was. It's just grief that keeps coming back, over and over again.

I can remember him setting up a little treasure nap game in the back yard. Michael was in a carrier and Nina and I were given a hand drawn map to figure out where the hidden items were. I remember Papi going outside in the cold when I couldn't just to build a snowman while I watched in the window. He'd throw snowballs at that window to make me laugh. I remember when he helped me to not be afraid of the sharks in the aquarium by carrying me and holding close while we got closer, and realized the glass was keeping us safe. That Papi would keep me safe from the sharks. He did the same with me for thunder storms, tho I was too young to remember that one.

I remember how utterly severely upset I was when he had to go back to NY for 2 weeks after we moved to VA. I felt like I would never see him again. Probably the second most traumatic thing I'd faced in my life up to that point, the first being invasive and painful allergy testing when I was...idk, like 5. I remember him when he was initially softened by having kids. That was probably roughly the last time I remember all of us being as close to completely happy as I was able to comprehend.

I remember the time he and Mami got into one of their many screaming matches. Mami was made to walk outside, Papi locked the door. Mami banged on the door for what seemed like forever, and I went out of my room to try to help. But Papi was still awake, and threatened to hit me off I didn't go back to bed. I froze in fear, until he gave in and told me to open the front door. Mami had to hide her anger and sadness when it was me who opened the door and not him.

I remember calling for his help when Mikey was hitting me. I was crying already and Papi was the only adult in the house, but he was sleeping. 12 and 14 hour shifts as an officer, and the rule was not to wake him up. But who else could I have cried to for help? So he woke up, hit me with a belt for waking him up, then hit my brother 5 or 6 times for hitting me. Mikey doesn't remember it, but for me it's clear as day.

I remember Papi completely trashing our room (Nina and I shared a room our whole life then), just because we didn't clean it like ye wanted. My cute hand made candles had been crushed under the bookshelf they had been decorating just outside the bedroom, now sitting in a heap in the middle of the floor. Michael said it happened twice, but I only remember once.

I remember the times he would punch walks, Break Michael's door, throw and break glass. Blood everywhere. From age 9 to 22. Flying into a rage at the drop of a hat, everyone being so afraid of him even if he didn't physically hurt us (not after age 10). When she was at her lowest, Mami did the same to him. It didn't help, but she reached her limit. I remember her worry when I punched and broke my flimsy tin closet door. She was going to chase him, but the sound scared her and she came to me instead.

I remember, only after being reminded by my brother, when they were both out drinking and promised to be back to make dinner and couldn't come back, so I had to come up with dinner instead. I had to be maybe 11 or 12. I still don't actually fully remember it, because it wasn't me, but it's a vague feeling in my mind now.

I remember feeling so worthless and hopeless that I couldn't get to my baby brother, having to be alone in his own room, while Nina and I had each other to cry with. I remember two years after he left the force, and the same year he almost died, was the first time I truly wanted to kill myself. I'd always thought about running away before, but couldn't leave my mom and siblings behind. I'd thought about telling my dad I hated him, but it wasn't true and I was afraid anyway. I thought the only solution would be if I just stopped existing cause I couldn't take it anymore. How sad is that? A freshman in high school wanting to die cause the drunk father they once looked up to became unbearably abusive.

He wouldn't call it abuse though. He had it much worse, as he would often bring up. He was abused, but wouldn't call it abuse either, at least not what his mom did. She used to be a really rough woman, tho I've only known her to be soft and sweet in my lifetime.

I remember when I found out what really happened to my dog, my best friend, Tymber. How Papi was so angry after a long shift that he threw my dog against a wall and broke his leg. That I never got to see my only friend again cause the vet didn't want to send him back to an abusive home. That happened just before I turned 12, and I didn't learn the truth until about 19-ish. Do you know how devastated I was? I still have a picture of him somewhere, my little puppy, barely a year old and terrified of my dad, just like the rest of us.

I do remember some good times too. He tried to make up for all the work time with high quality time together. We watched DBZ every week. He took us on father-kid trips both in a group and individually. He liked taking us to amusement parks and carnivals when he could. He danced with me at my sweet 16, and took me to walk around downtown after. We did have some good times, and I love him.

I just hate everything he did to us. I hate that he can't even remember it. I hate that alcohol has eaten away at his mind for over 20 years and you can see how it's poisoned him. I hate what his family did to him.

#toby talk #trauma dump time

[goldkirk]

well I was finally honest and came out to my parents today so I might as well come out here too while I lie on the floor and listen to music and then eat a cake I bought to be kind and celebrate myself as good and valuable and loved and loving because I’m worth it and I will learn that if it kills me because if I DON’T learn it it WILL actually kill me, and I decided very firmly I’m not ever gonna go down that road again and I’d like to see if I can find a life that doesn’t involve self loathing and pain and instead is filled with color and compassion and lots of peace

I can’t say I’m proud of myself or accept myself yet but I’m sure working on it and I’m going to love myself in ALL my facets even if not everyone else can 🏳️‍🌈😅✨

(more in tags, as usual)

#IT’S BEEN A DAY PALS #hi my name is Katie and I’m asexual and I love girls and non-binary friends and boys but I fall IN love with girls only #well and that one superrrrrrrr unrequited pining phase over that nb friend but we don’t talk about that lmaooo #ANYWAY WE WERE ON FACETIME FOR FOUR HOURS #I’m not disowned or outright hated but they definitely are against it and #if I had taken a shot every time god or faith were brought up #or influence I could have on all the kids in the family #I would have died of alcohol poisoning like twice over probably #my mom was physically pained several times #and I don’t really feel anything? not relieved or hurt or sad or happy or anything I’m just kind of slightly buzzed and shrug emoji #buzzy not buzzed #I’ve been taking care of myself this week and I’m gonna take care or myself tonight #because I DON’T DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED FOR ANYTHING #I’m sorry to my younger self for all the ways I’ve hurt her till now #I’m gonna do better #and the first step is eating pasta salad and the second step is petting my dog and the third step #is writing ‘I’m fucking gay and thank god for that’ on a cake and eating it in the bathtub while music plays out loud because I CAN #UPDATE: I just called my mom and she’s been crying for hours 😓 #she’s doing really rough and I’m just......sorry oof

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #razzle dingley #nikki sixx x oc #tommy lee x oc #razzle dingley x oc #the dirt #motley crue #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #charlotte&lola #lola & charlotte #the angry lizard writes #the pack

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Decay: part II

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: this talks about alcoholism, implications of sex, mentions of technical assault (Jessie kissed Warren while he was drunk and she made him think she was Mother Nature!), also we get into Warren’s backstory a bit. I’m not trying to make anyone out to be a villain, but the story overall is much more upsetting than usual.

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Not exactly the mood needed right now— I am very sorry, but I’m working on a much happier piece for Mother Nature and Warren! I’ll try to have it out before the end of the month!

Part 1 if you need a refresher!

Warren didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened. He wanted to pretend it never happened. To just hole up the memory of the night deep into his mind. He always hid and pushed away trauma. Why should this be any different?

His friends wanted to get Alex or maybe even Charles involved, but he protested. 

“It’s my word against her’s.” 

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to support you, and Jean and Charles are telepathic—”

“What can I really do? Press charges? If I do that then and use Jean or Charles to back me up, it becomes a whole mutant’s rights issue. It’s not worth it.” 

(Y/N) hated seeing Warren look so defeated. Jessie going about Xavier’s unscathed by everyone who wasn’t close with Warren, and him thinking it was his fault. 

(Y/N) had said she must have eaten something bad at the Halloween party, causing her to feel sick and sprout poison ivy. Also why all the plants died. 

If Hank and Charles could tell she was lying, they didn’t say anything. 

Rumors started amongst students about what had happened at the party— if Warren had actually cheated on (Y/N), if he did something to Jessie, or if Jessie forced herself onto him. 

Warren didn’t like the rumors involving (Y/N) in the mess. He didn’t like the stares and whispers they got when people saw them together. 

“Poor girl, staying with him even after he cheated.”

“Maybe she’s too naive to realize.”

“I knew they’d never work out— (Y/N)’s too good for him.”

“I bet he forced her into going out with him.” 

“I mean… he’s not ugly—”

“Yeah, but he’s not a good person and (Y/N) is!”

It made him sick to his stomach. Warren didn’t force her into anything— and he thought he had changed, that people were finally trusting him. 

Guess he was wrong.

—

Warren wasn’t even paying attention in his environmental sciences class. They were watching a video on how a plant species can be invasive, required to take notes on it. 

Warren was texting (Y/N), phone brightness turned down all the way. He just wanted to go to bed for a while and ignore the real world.

When the bell rang, dismissing students, Alex told everyone they’d finish the video, next class. 

Warren got up to leave, but Alex stopped him. 

“You doing alright?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He lied. “I’m not in trouble am I?” 

Alex hesitated to answer. 

“No.”

Warren nodded, noticeably nervous. 

“There’s a rumor going around saying you assaulted Jessie Rowe.”

Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. “I didn’t.”

“Okay… But something happened, didn’t it?” 

Warren didn’t respond.

“Warren, you have to tell me what happened.” 

“I got tipsy and she kissed me. I thought she was (Y/N), but then (Y/N) walked in and Jessie tried to act like I tried to kiss her.”

 Warren’s eyes were pleading— pleading for Alex to not get mad at him for drinking, or mad at him for not speaking sooner. 

“Um, no one got hurt, and now there’s just a rumor going around, so you can like, give me detention for drinking or whatever it’s fine—”

 “I’m going to have to tell Professor Xavier,” Alex told him. 

“Please don’t tell him I was drinking! I can’t— I won’t—”

Alex could see the desperation in his eyes. Warren had nowhere else to go. He, like many other students, depended on Xaiver’s entirely.  

“You’re a good kid Warren— you’ve opened up to others, you were sober for almost six months, you have a good group of friends and even a girlfriend— Charles isn’t going to punish you. I just don’t want you to spiral down and lose all the progress you’ve made…” 

“I just,” Warren rubbed his eyes. “Don’t wanna make a big deal about it. I’d rather it just blows over. Everyone will eventually forget about it anyway.” 

“Are you aware of the rumors involving (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so, this involves her and Jessie. I know—” 

Alex and Warren turned their heads to the door. Someone was opening it. 

(Y/N) stepped inside. Warren hadn’t shown up to the library during their shared free period like he said he would, so she was worried about him. Plus, he hadn’t been doing too well since the Halloween party…. Neither of them had been. 

Her eyes were pink and purple— she was full of worry for her boyfriend. 

“Oh!” She gaped, soon as she saw Warren and Alex sitting at his desk, in the middle of what looked like an important conversation. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” She asked. 

“No. You can stay.” Warren told her. (Y/N) dragged a chair over and sat next to him.

“Right, as I was saying, Charles isn’t going to expel you, but he might want to make a police report. I’m not sure what good it will do, but—”

“I don’t want to. It’s not going to do anything but cause problems.” 

(Y/N) was immensely confused. She had no idea what they were talking about. 

“We’re gonna talk to Jessie, maybe a few of your friends, and knowing Charles, he won’t expel either of you. We’ll do everything we can to get the rumors to stop…” 

Oh! It finally clicked in her mind. 

It was about the party. 

“Okay… Thank— thank you, Alex.” 

“Yeah, we should go to Charles’s office— what class do you guys have next?” 

“I have lunch.”

“AP art.”

“That’s… Ms. Burnwood, right, (Y/N)?” 

She nodded.  

“I’ll make sure your absence is excused.” 

“Thanks.”

Alex took them up to Charles’s office. Warren then explained everything that happened, while trying to not get his friends in trouble for also drinking. 

Jessie was brought up to Charles’s office and questioned. She caved pretty easily, with (Y/N) glaring at her the whole time, and amid their telepathic principal, lying wouldn’t do her any good. 

Jessie was “grounded”— she couldn’t leave campus during the semester until after Thanksgiving break— she was also to stop encouraging the rumors, and had to talk with one of the school counselors once a week until they deemed it no longer necessary. Jessie’s parents weren’t in the picture, so notifying them wouldn’t do any good. 

Warren’s punishment was less severe, he couldn’t be out later than nine on weekends, (just until Thanksgiving break) and he was required to go to group therapy to help him deal with his former alcoholism and past traumas, for the rest of the school year.  

—

“You don’t have to tell me what goes on at group therapy.” (Y/N) told him. 

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to tell anyone.” 

Warren smiled a little, “I know.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) kisses his cheek. 

Warren wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I hope it goes well… it should.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah… Here,” Her hand was in a fist. When she opened it, she revealed a daisy and a four-leaf clover. 

“You don’t really need luck or anything but, um, I thought, you know—“ 

Warren accepted the small gift, taking it from her hand. “Thanks, baby. I love it.” 

—

Group therapy was awkward. Warren hated it. He knew it would be good to talk about… well, everything, probably, but he had a hard time opening up to total strangers. 

“Alright, in case you’re new or don’t remember, my name is Allison… We have a new member with us today, he’s going to be with us for a while.” Allison looked at Warren. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Okay… Um, my name is Warren.”  

Everyone replied with, “Hi, Warren.” 

“And um, I’m a mutant.” 

Allison smiled, “That’s great! Do you go flying a lot? 

“Uh, yeah.”

“What kind of metal are your wings made of?” A girl with washed-out blue hair asked.

“Titanium, I think.” 

“Well, Warren, welcome to the group,” Allison interjected, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Now, we’re going to do an ice breaker of sorts, and then just have like, regular conversation. We can all go around and say our favorite color and why.” 

Warren blinked. He didn’t— he didn’t have a favorite color. 

“And don’t say you don’t have a favorite color. If you can’t pick a favorite, choose one you hate the least… We can start with Trey.” 

Warren thought of color options—

Black?  No. Black wasn't his favorite, despite being 95% of his wardrobe. It absorbed the most light, helping him blend in with the darkness and look tough, something he needed in Germany. 

Blue— The color of Kurt— his roommate and friend, who he tried to kill. Twice. Something he still felt remorse over. And Apocalypse. The man who gave him the metal wings and tattoos, forcing him to aid in mass destruction, only to leave him for dead when he was no longer useful.

Red— the color of Alex’s plasma beams. And how the Horsemen were a result in him almost dying.

White and Silver— the colors of his wings. Past and present. How each reflected hardships from Warren’s life. How he hated them and a child and almost resorted back to that self-deprecation when they shifted into metal and the consequences finally sank in. 

But what about green? The color of healthy plants that thrive. The color of (Y/N)’s eyes when she’s happy.

Warren liked the color, despite (Y/N)’s eyes rarely being green around him. However, it didn’t mean she was unhappy with him.

Her eyes were pink around him. A way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it. The pink meant she cared about him more than most people— that she trusted him, accepted him for who he was despite his past, and that she would be there for him when he needed her. 

Not many people could say they would do those things for Warren, or that they had.

His father cared more about the family name and how his son couldn’t possibly be a freak. His mother didn’t want his wings to tarnish her image, and while she was still his mother, she left him on his own most of the time. 

And how all his past relationships and flings— they didn’t have much meaning. There was never any real affection behind them. They saw the cage fighting king and wanted a piece of that. 

(Y/N) looked past all of that. She saw how he responded to what life threw at him. She saw the tough guy act, the big softie, the broken boy who ran away in fear, the man who thought he wasn’t good enough— she brought out his good side, making him realize he deserved happiness, love, and a home, that when you hit rock bottom, you can only go up from there. 

He decided pink was his favorite color, because it showed someone cared for him in ways he wasn’t used to. He would do anything to keep it around forever.

“Warren, what’s your favorite color?” 

“Pink.” 

He got a few funny looks. They were probably expecting him to say black, based on his general aesthetic. 

“And why is that?”

“Um, it’s my girlfriend’s eye color… she’s also a mutant.” 

Allison smiled, “That’s very sweet.” 

She moved on to the next person, “Rose, what’s your favorite color?” 

She said, “Green.” But Warren wasn’t paying attention to why. 

The ice breaker eventually ended, and Allison shifted the discussion to other things. 

“Now Warren, since you’re new, usually new members spend most of their first meeting talking about themselves. Just so we can get to know you and whatnot.”

“Okay… um… anything specific you want to know?” 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Okay… So, I was born into a really small family. Just me, my mom, my father, and his brother. I don’t really know what happened to my grandparents. I never asked... 

When I was three we moved from Westminster to Centerport.”

“Where’s that located?”

“Oh, uh, Westminster’s close to London.” 

Allison looked impressed. 

“I went to a private all-boys school when I was little. I don’t remember the name of it though.” 

“Were you born with your wings?” Allison asked.

“No.” Warren responded. “They started to grow when I was eleven… I was terrified. I spent almost every day trying to rip them out… but once all the feathers are gone, you’re left with nothing but bone. It hurt like hell, but I used a pocket knife and a razor to try and cut them or at least file the bone down.” 

“It wasn’t hard… but it hurt a lot. I spent so much time worrying about my wings and if people would discover them, that I started to fall behind in school… I wasn’t like failing or anything, I had access to all kinds of tutors and everything, but my parents quickly found out I was falling behind. My father was barely aware, telling my mom to ‘deal with it.’ She tried her best, but I was so scared of them discovering my wings…”

   Warren sighed, “My parents had a beach house in Italy, and we were supposed to go there for my fall break. I was so terrified. I couldn’t go swimming, they’d see my wings… But I couldn’t find a way out of the trip. I was twelve at the time and my mom… She saw my back when I came out of the shower...”   

“She screamed, and my father came running to us. When he saw my back, he was disgusted. The look on his face was drilled into my skull for years. And it wasn’t even that bad, they were just growing back after being cut, so they weren’t even that big… but I just remember how scared my mom was, and how disgusted my father was… I just started crying and apologizing, but it didn’t do anything.” 

“We left our trip four days early and I was pulled out of school. My parents decided to homeschool me, which basically meant, cut all contact with everyone from school and have a few tutors come to the house.” 

“Did you have contact with anyone outside of your home?”

“I saw some family friends, and one or two kids of my parent’s friends… my parents hired countless doctors and all kinds of people, doing tests on me, trying to find a “cure”. Every time they failed my parents just got more upset— I was becoming a waste of time and money. They were becoming more distant and cold, wrapping themselves up in their work, and I was locked up.”

“What happened to your wings?”

“My mom said the scars they would leave were ugly, but I was forced to let them grow out.” 

“My parents were arguing a lot, always sad or angry… mostly because of my wings… I was getting tired, tired of hiding, tired of the arguing, I wanted it all to stop…”

“Can you please stop?” Warren thought he was going to cry. 

His father glared at him, disgusted by the wings, and how his son was on the verge of tears. 

Warren could hear his parents arguing from down the hall. That’s all they seemed to do when they were home— fight. 

Warren blamed himself. If he was just normal. If he didn’t have those damn wings!

He wanted them to stop. He’d do anything to make them stop. 

Warren thought about getting on to the roof and jumping. Not even flying down, just falling to his end. His end of suffering, and his loveless, lonely existence. 

“Are you going to do it?” 

Warren looked over his shoulder to find his father standing behind him. Watching him peer out the highest window in the house. 

“No! I— I’m sorry! I wasn’t—”

His father scoffed. “Did I raise a coward?”

Warren couldn’t look him in the eyes. “No sir.”

“I’ve scheduled for you to have spinal surgery next week. Your doctor is coming to prep and evaluate you for it. This surgery should fix you.”

Warren’s eyes were closed, trying not to imagine the pain, trying to not cry in front of his father. 

“Or you can fall out the window… in a freak accident.” 

“So I jumped out the window. I didn’t fall to my death as he had hoped, but I flew. I flew far away. I flew across the Atlantic for a few hours before I started to get tired. I spotted a ship and I got close. It was a fishing boat, a large one. The crew let me stay for the night until they went back to land… After that, I flew from São Miguel to Cascais. From there I just kind of fucked around Europe.” 

Warren sighed. Allison told him to take all the time he needed and he could stop if he wanted for the day. Let someone else talk. 

Warren nodded and kept quiet for the rest of the meeting. 

—

Alex picked him up when the meeting ended. Alex didn’t ask about the meeting. It wasn’t his business and he knew Warren would talk when he was ready. 

“Where do the others think I went?” Warren asked. 

“Training. They’re busy anyway, most didn’t notice you were gone.” 

Warren silently nodded. 

Alex pulled into Xavier’s garage, parking and letting Warren slip out and go up to his room. 

Warren kicked his shoes off and laid on his bed, putting in his earbuds and playing some soft songs. 

(Y/N) was heading up to Warren’s room to use his shower. She was covered in paint, for she helped clean up after the fourth graders used the art room. 

(Y/N) knocked on the door, making sure no one was there before she entered. 

Warren didn’t hear her and (Y/N) almost didn’t notice him laying on the bed. When she did, however, her entire demeanor changed. 

“Hi, Angel!” She went over to practically smother him in light kisses. 

Warren pulled out his earbuds and smiled. “Hi, Flower.”

“When did you get home?” She asked, scooting over to the open side of the bed. 

“Like ten minutes ago. What have you been up to?” 

“I got paint all over me,” (Y/N) frowned. “I was going to take a shower and wash it off.” 

“You can do that. I was just kind of laying here.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

“If you disassociate your whole day will feel off. You should take a nice relaxing shower with me, instead.” 

Warren chuckled. 

“Not like that, Bird brain!” She exclaimed. “We can use one of my lush bath bombs and my rose-scented exfoliator.” 

“Are you saying I smell?” Warren joked. 

“Eh,” (Y/N) shrugged before slipping her bra off and throwing it in the hamper. 

Warren scoffed and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), peppering her neck in kisses. “How dare you!” He teased. 

“Ah!” (Y/N) laughed. Warren’s lips on her neck tickled her skin. “That’s why I’m going to bathe.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll join you.” 

(Y/N) hummed in victory, wiggling out of Warren’s grip, and headed into the bathroom to grab her stuff. 

The last time she used the girls’ communal showers was before they were even dating. (Y/N)’s toothbrush made its way into Warren and Kurt’s bathroom, then her shampoo and conditioner, and then eventually most of all her other hygiene products. 

(Y/N) set her soap and other things on the edge of the tub and drew up warm water, filling the bathtub up about halfway. 

She sprinkled in rose petals and got Warren into the bathroom. They both stripped off their clothes and stepped in the tub. A bit difficult, for Warren had to fold his wings back and get in first, with (Y/N) practically sitting in his lap, face to face, but they made do. 

(Y/N) dropped an orange bath bomb in the water and grabbed her jar of exfoliating scrub, rubbing it on her arms and legs to help remove the paint. 

Warren closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

“How’d it go today?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it onto her skin. 

He didn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry…” She murmured. 

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t terrible… I talked a little bit about my parents.” 

(Y/N) nodded as she applied her rose exfoliator onto Warren’s skin. 

“I’m really sorry…” Warren let out. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. 

“Baby,” (Y/N) looked into his eyes. “it’s okay.” 

“I— I just—“ Warren hiccuped, letting out a choked sob and releasing some tears from his eyes. 

(Y/N) rubbed his back, avoiding the tender spot around his wings, whispering, “Let it out, it’s okay, Angel.” 

Warren silently cried into (Y/N)‘s shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him in comfort. The emotions he felt almost made him sick— love and affection— and a lot of it too. He couldn’t remember a time before when he felt like that. He never wanted to leave (Y/N)‘s embrace. 

Warren lifted his head up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Sorry— um—“ 

“It’s okay.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, leaving a kiss on each cheek. “Want me to wash your hair?” 

Warren nodded. 

“C’mere—” (Y/N) grabbed the shampoo from the bathtub ledge, pouring some in her hands, and then lathering it into Warren’s mop of curls. 

Her hands gently massaging his scalp felt like a touch of heaven to Warren. He didn’t want to cry again, but he couldn’t help himself.  (Y/N) was heartbroken at her boyfriend’s demeanor, but it was good he was letting it all out.  

She finished washing his hair and drained the tub— them both getting out— Warren holding onto (Y/N) as she gently dried them both off. 

“Thank you, He mumbled.

“Of course, Baby…”   

—

Most of their dates shifted to either being at the mansion or during the day. Warren felt bad, having to limit things for them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. 

“We can do more stuff during the day… And at night all our friends will be gone… We’ll be all alone…” (Y/N)’s tone was almost teasing. Warren had to chuckle to himself, she was doing her best to make the situation work.

His second group meeting was set a bit later in the day, around 6 pm on a Saturday. Warren told (Y/N) he probably wouldn’t be back until after dark. 

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be here—” She motioned to her empty bedroom. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” He teased.  

“You too, Baby.” 

Warren drove himself to his second group therapy meeting. Alex offered to drive again, but Warren felt bad having him taking time out of his day to drive him to group therapy. 

Not everyone who was at the first meeting was at the second one— but Warren saw some familiar faces. 

“Hey, Warren! Welcome back,” Allison greeted him. 

“Hi.” 

He took a seat near a guy in a grey hoodie with an eyebrow piercing. 

“Alright everyone, we’re going to go around, say our name, and if we have any pets. If you don’t that’s okay! You can say, what kind of animals you’re interested in. Let’s start with Collin…”

Warren zoned out for a bit until it was his turn. He didn’t have a pet, and he didn’t really have an interest in a specific animal. People made jokes about him being a bird, but he didn’t necessarily have a connection with them. 

“I don’t have a pet… My girlfriend has a lot of plants though…” 

“Ooo! What kind?” 

“Um… Almost all kinds— her mutation helps grow them and stuff…”

“That’s cool.” Someone commented.

Warren awkwardly nodded. The ice breaker continued around the circle, and when finished, Allison had some people give updates on how they had been since the last meeting, others talked about how they were feeling in general. 

“Warren—”

“Yeah?” He asked. 

“Do you want to continue talking from where you left off last week?”  

“I can, sure.” 

The floor was given to him, and Warren continued his “backstory”. 

“I ended up in Germany. Messing around, staying overnight on stranger’s couches. I tried to find work, but it was hard being almost 15 at this point and no papers… I ran into muggers and they tried to, well, rob me, but I fought back. I wasn’t very good but it got them off and away from me… I ended up in a bar… The last thing I remember was falling asleep and then waking up in a locker room of sorts. A bunch of men shouting in German, um, some in English, but basically I was told to go out into ‘the ring’. People were watching— shouting and cheering, for the other guy in the ring. He was kind of short and hairy, but he had these claws, and he could really kick ass. I barely made it out of there— I didn’t win— but I didn’t die. People enjoyed watching us. They cheered, calling him Wolve-something, and they called me, Angel.” 

“I wanted to leave, but the people running the ring gave me some money and I found a place to stay for the night… the job offers weren’t exactly lining up… so I agreed to more fights. I got really good, fighting other mutants, probably in the same situation as me, but I quickly realized, kill, or be killed…” 

Warren quickly realized people had very concerned looks on their faces. “I didn’t kill anyone! But I did beat them up pretty badly— the more fights I won the more money I got— and it was that or die… I did it for about two years before I met someone… 

I was alone at a bar, I was bruised and a bit bloody, and this girl with purple hair came up to me. She was one of the guards in the fight club— she worked for some guy named Caliban, I think. I don’t remember… Anyway, her name was Betsy. She said she’d been watching me for a while, saying my fighting was impressive but could be improved… Uh, She offered to help me out, and we went back to her place. She helped clean up the blood on me, and um, then we made out, and I spent the night… This went on for a while, she’d watch me fight and give me tips and pointers, and we’d make out and stuff…”   

“How long is, awhile?” Allison asked.

“Um, Like two-ish years? I don’t know— but um, we had this like thing going on, and I thought we were maybe dating? I dunno. But whatever we had I fucked up.”

Warren groaned as Betsy aggressively pressed her mouth against his. He had just won another fight and went back to her place to “celebrate”. 

“God, B… I love you...” 

 Betsy froze, her body tensing up. 

“What?”

Warren panicked, her face did not seem pleased. “It slipped out— I’m sorry—”

“No… You don’t mean it… We can’t be together.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought we were together.” 

“Angel— this isn’t a relationship— we just fuck while I give you some pointers on your punches.”

“I know this isn’t traditional, we don’t go out on dates—”

“You don’t love me! We’re too young— I’ll lose my job. I spend all this time one you so I don’t lose my job, you’re the best fighter—”

“You keep me trapped here?” Warren asked, slowly piecing things together. 

“It’s not like that—” She tried to explain. 

“I’ve tried to quit fighting for almost a year now! I told you I wanted to leave, and this whole time you’ve been keeping me here?” 

“You’re young and naive, and I’d lose my job, everything—” 

Warren stood up, ignoring Betsy’s excuses. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Away. Since we’re not together and I don’t love you.” Warren slammed the door behind him and headed back to the ring. He needed to let out his anger. 

—

Warren went on a winning streak— he won ten fights in a row— the feeling was borderline euphoric, the crowds cheering for their champion, Warren getting to sink someone’s teeth in or watch them fall to the ground. 

Warren was amped up for his eleventh fight— the announcer was talking about his next opponent— 

“The Incredible Nightcrawler!” 

A lanky, devil looking, blue boy fell out of a cage onto the floor of the ring. Warren circled him for a moment before meeting him on the ground. 

He wasn’t fighting, just teleporting around the cage in small bursts. 

“Fight!” Warren yelled at him. “Or they’ll kill us both!” 

The blue boy looked terrified, but he fought back when Warren attacked him. 

At one point he managed to drag Warren against the side of the electric cage, burning his wing. 

“Ah!” Warren cried out in pain. Suddenly he saw the blue devil escape from the bottom, so in a risky move, he flew up and ripped off the upper walls of the cage, and flew out. His flying was wonky and jagged for one of his wings was broken.

Warren had nowhere to go, so he went back to the one place he shouldn’t have— 

Betsy’s place. 

—

“I was drunk as shit and angry and this blue wrinkly man came with Betsy and some other girl I didn’t recognize, and he just held his hand out and metal grew out of my back and on top of my wings. I was healed, in a way, but also it kind of ruined my life. The blue man also just held his hand  out and gave me these tattoos…”

“You weren’t one of the horsemen with Apocalypse, were you? Like last spring I think… Out in Cario?” One girl in the circle asked.

“Yeah… Um, I never killed anyone, and I don’t do that anymore. The X-Men took me in and I’m trying to get my shit together.” 

“We don’t judge here, and from what I’ve heard, the X-Men do great things! Like the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man.” Others in the group murmured in agreement. 

“You’re built like a transformer dude,” The guy sitting next to him commented. 

“Thanks…” 

“I think you can do a lot of good, Warren. You’ve spent a lot of time running from your problems, but you seem like you’re grounded now… I was told you came here because you relapsed.”   

“It was an accident— I haven’t drank since.” 

“And that’s good! It can be really hard to open up and talk about your past, but you did it…”

Warren nodded along to what Allison said. 

“I think you can do even better if you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them… and don’t be afraid, don’t push them into the back of your mind… I think— if you haven’t already— talk to your girlfriend about some of this. Doesn’t have to be a lot or all at once, but being open and honest does good in relationships.”

“Yeah, um, sounds good.” Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. He was terrified to talk about all of this with (Y/N).

She didn’t deserve the burden. (Y/N)  was this innocent, happy, light in his life. Warren didn’t want to ruin that. 

He thought (Y/N) was too good for him, and she would eventually realize that and leave him.  

But he trusted her. He trusted (Y/N) with his life. Perhaps a bit foolish, but he rarely ever felt sure about those types of things. He decided to trust his intuition.

—

Warren drove home in silence. 

He pulled into the garage and put the keys on the key rack before heading up to (Y/N)’s room. 

He didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He just walked right in and flopped onto the bed, in (Y/N)’s lap.

She was surprised, but she quickly came to her senses and tried to figure out what happened. 

“Baby?...” (Y/N) looked down at Warren’s face as she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. 

“I…” Warren burst into tears, all his bottled up emotions coming out at once. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Warren sat up and (Y/N) hugged him tightly. 

“I have… things… I want to tell you… about my past…” Warren scrunched his nose. 

“My parents and other stuff… but I’m scared.” He admitted.  

“Warren, baby, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me whatever you need to, whenever you feel ready, okay?” 

He slowly nodded, still crying. 

(Y/N) kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, being silent and supportive. 

“Can… Can you promise me… Promise me you won’t leave because of my past. I’ve done really bad shit and—” 

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.” She reassured him.  

Warren wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his tears slowing down.

“Thanks…” He mumbled.

“Of course, anything for you, Angel.” 

#warren worththington x mother nature #warren worthington #warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #x-men oneshot #x-men x reader #xmen x reader #ben hardy x reader #xmen oneshot #warren worthington iii x mother nature #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington x you #mother nature reader

[a-singleboat]

I Need A Hero

Word Count: 4.5k

Request: i am formally requesting an emily fic 😌 i dont want to be needy but em being lowkey but then super protective of you 🥵 angst with a happy ending would be amazing - anon

A/N: Let me know what you think! This is my first emily x reader so :D

Content Warnings: Blood, Reader getting hurt, Reader getting assaulted, kidnapping, swearing, alcohol, drugs

You should have listened to Emily. You really should have listened to her. 

Emily was always just a tad bit overprotective of you, sometimes going as far as to asking you to wear a GPS device to clubs especially if she wasn’t going with you. You understood, of course. With her past and her current job, she had to make sure all her bases were covered. You were just one of them. 

Though you rarely agreed to the GPS deceive, it was still flattering that she thought of you as important enough to keep track of. Usually, you’d just stick to texting her to let her know where you were. That was good enough for her.

But when she told you to stay home today, you thought that was her just being overly cautious, overly protective, as usual. You should have known better. 

Turns out a serial killer with an affinity for women visibly similar to yourself was on the loose, details kept from the public due to the fact that the man was a flight risk. That being, it was painfully obvious why the “unsub,” to use Emily’s terminology, was a flight risk. 

He flinched at every sound. At first, you tried to call out for someone--anyone. Well, that gained you a bloody gash on the side of your head. You didn’t make that mistake twice. Instead, you tried to remain calm and complacent--two things that Emily once said would ensure that you’d survive in a situation like this.

“Annie,” the man, Stephen, crooned. He picked up a doll from the table of toys and brought it over to you. From what you could tell, the doll was dirty and half-rotted away, as if it had been buried for a good while. He pressed it up to your face, the side coated in blood, and cooed at you. “Annie, I have Mrs. Buttercup here. Don’t cry, she’ll make it all better.”

You tried not to wince away as he rubbed the doll against your face. If Stephen wasn’t going to kill you, infection just might. 

“Th-thank you, Mrs. Buttercup,” you whimpered, hands grasping the end of the armrests. The chair rocked backward as he put pressure on the doll, forcing you backward. You panicked as your feet left the ground, struggling to at least get a toe back on the solid concrete. 

God, you should have listened to Emily. If you were going to die, you’d spend the rest of your immortal life regretting the choice you made to leave the house today. 

Stephen looked into your eyes, searching for something. You knew all he’d find was fear so you tried your best to wrestle down your emotions. You held back the tears threatening to spill, holding your breath as he leaned in closer. 

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, the one not wet with your blood. You grimaced at the feeling of his chapped lips against your skin. “I-I didn’t mean to earlier, Annie. You were just being so loud and… you understand, right?”

You nodded, lip quivering as he brought the doll to your chin, tilting your head upward. He forced you to look at him, smearing blood along your jawline as he did. 

After a few moments of deliberation, he let you go, the rocking chair swaying back and forth until it settled back into a resting position. “You must be hungry,” he decided, dropping Mrs. Buttercup back into the piles of toys. “I’ll go make you your favorite.”

He flinched as a loud sound came from outside--a car alarm going off. The sound made you relax, however. The sound of a car alarm meant you weren’t in an abandoned factory somewhere. You were most likely in this guy’s basement, or something similar. 

Stephen gripped the sides of his head as the alarm continued, only letting go when the alarm finally shut off. He collected himself, fists clenching before relaxing at his sides. His smile returned though you can only really see his teeth in the low light. 

“I’ll be back, Annie,” he said, waving at you. “Don’t move.”

The last two words were more threatening than anything he’d actually done, true menace seeping into his voice like a poison. You waited for him to disappear around the corner before allowing yourself to cry, a few tears rolling down your cheeks and mixing with the blood. 

You gasped for air, struggling to keep your breathing steady. It wouldn’t do you any good to hyperventilate now. You looked around for something--anything--that could possibly be used to alert someone that you were down here. 

God, how long had it been? You lost count after the first thirty minutes. There were no windows so you couldn’t even tell if it was still day. Emily was probably freaking out by now. No doubt she had somehow gotten the entire United States Military involved by now, your safety being the only thing on her mind. 

Another ten or so minutes passed without Stephen. You wondered how the other victims had died. Blood loss seemed to be the only thing on your mind, unsure if your head wound had clotted yet. All you could feel was the wet of your own bodily fluid on the side of your face, which didn’t help much. Everything else just seemed numb. 

Your head lolled to the side as you heard footsteps approach, unable to lift your head as flashlights combed the ground. You barely reacted as the door got kicked in, eyelids closing as two blurry figures approached you. One of the figures shouted something behind them while the other came to you, patting your face lightly in an attempt to get you to stay awake. 

Unable to remain conscious, you allowed sleep to claim you as the person above you shouted more words, all unintelligible as your consciousness faded from reality. 

_____

Emily never did like hospitals. 

Ever since her “death,” she tried to avoid them as much as possible but now, for you, she would make an exception. She waited in the waiting room alongside her teammates. None of them knew you personally, but they all knew about you. From the stories Emily would tell to the snippets of various phone conversations they accidentally overheard, they could tell that you were something good for their Unit Chief. 

She propped her elbows up on her legs, holding her head up as she struggled to stay away. You hadn’t needed surgery but had lost a lot of blood as well as suffered major trauma. The doctors weren’t allowing anyone in as they observed you for any possible signs of infection as well as any withdrawal symptoms from the drugs the unsub had used to knock you out. It was all very dramatic, the extent of your actual injuries being minimal compared to what could have happened. 

“Stop worrying.” Morgan reached over, putting a hand on her knee. She hadn’t even realized she’d been bouncing it up and down, too worried about how you were doing. It had been a few hours at that point, nurses going in and out of your room but none of them saying anything about your state of being. 

“She’s fine. You know this. Everything they’re doing is just precautionary,” Morgan continued. He patted her knee twice, lifting his hand to point at a white-coated doctor exiting your room. “Look, the doctor’s here now. He’ll tell you that everything’s okay.”

“Y/n Y/l/n?”

Emily stood, smoothing out her blazer. “That’s me. I’m Emily Prentiss, her fiancée.”

A little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when it would get her the answers she needed. 

“Well, Ms. Prentiss, Y/n is expected to make a full recovery. The trauma to her head won’t have any lasting effects. She has some bruising on her side, we think from being dropped. We want to keep her overnight to watch for infection and, of course, the withdrawal effects from the xylazine. You may see her now but you won’t be able to stay overnight with her.” 

“Thank you, doctor,” Emily said, shaking the man’s hand before he departed. She turned around to face her friends. “You guys can go home, I’ll call a cab back home later. Thank you for being here for me.” 

Morgan gave her an incredulous look, standing from his seat. “Emily, if you think we’re just going to leave you then you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Yeah,” Garcia piped up. “We’ll be right here for you. None of us are leaving.” 

“You would do the same for any of us,” Reid backed her up.

Now Emily wasn’t one for tears but upon hearing the support she got from her friends, she could feel herself starting to tear up. She took a stabilizing breath, thanking them before turning to head into your hospital room. 

It was quiet. That was the first thing she noticed. Instead of your infectious laugh filling the void space, it was the steady beeping of the machine connected to your finger, ensuring that you still had a heartbeat. It broke Emily’s heart to see you like this, bloodied and bruised. 

She dragged one of the hospital chairs over to your bedside, hesitating before taking your hand up in hers. It was all her fault that you were here. If her job was less dangerous, you’d have still been in your hometown rather than following her all the way to Quantico, Virginia. You probably would have already been married with five adoptive children like you always wanted.

Instead, you're here. In a hospital in Washington DC recovering from being kidnapped by a psycho that Emily most likely unknowingly brought back to your home. If you didn’t hate her after this, she’d consider it a miracle. 

_____

The first thing you saw when you came to was Emily’s face full of worry, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she thought long and hard. Your hand was in hers, still limp as you slowly regained feeling in your extremities. 

Very gently, you squeezed her hand, letting her know you were awake. 

“Hi baby,” you whispered, your throat a bit scratchy from the lack of lubrication. As if reading your mind, she handed you a cup of water off the hospital bedside table. You took a few sips, keeping your eyes on your girlfriend as she looked deep in thought. 

You set the water aside, groaning as you realized your entire side was sore. You couldn’t remember if you hit it against something. From what you knew, the only injury you suffered was your head wound, which was newly wrapped. 

You looked her up and down, squeezing her hand slightly to gain her attention. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Emily bit her lip, carefully picking her next words. “Y/n… I think we should take a break.”

This came out of nowhere. Her words slammed into you harder than a football quarterback would have, stealing all the breath from your lungs as you processed her words. 

“What?”

“We should take a break. It’s just--I put you in more danger than you asked for and you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve not knowing when or if I’ll come home. You don’t deserve me dropping plans for a case or forgetting your birthday because I’m working. You deserve someone who can be there and I’m sorry, but I’m not that. I-I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Emily, no. First off, you don’t get to decide what I do and don’t deserve. Second, none of this was any of your fault. I knew what your job was from the very beginning and I chose to stay because I wanted to. So what if you forget my birthday, there’s always next year and so what if you cancel plans, we’ll just make new ones. Emily, please don’t--” Tears pearled in the corners of your eyes as your voice caught in your throat. “Baby, where did this come from?”

She shrugged, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. She let go of your hand, pulling away even as you tried to keep her there. “I’ll see you around, Y/n.”

You couldn’t do anything as she walked out. You called for her, hands shaking as you tried to think of something--anything to say to her as she left your life. The worst part wasn’t even her leaving, you later decided. The worst part was that Emily Prentiss didn’t even bother turning around for one last look. She just left you with your broken heart scattered about the room, leaving you to pick up your own pieces. 

_____

You wanted to hate Emily Prentiss. You really did. 

The way she just left you leaving you numb until you were forced to feel everything as you underwent twenty-four hours of withdrawal. Xylazine wasn’t something to mess with, you knew that even before you have been drugged with it. But now, two months after you and Emily split paths, you stayed in Virginia. 

Why would you move? You’d already built up a life in the state. All your friends were there and so was your job, which you had grown to love despite the overbearing mother that neighbored workspaces with you. 

You knew Nancy meant well, that she just wanted to make sure you were adjusting to work well after you’d been kidnapped, but sometimes you just wanted the woman to take a long walk away from you and never return. Right now was one of those times. 

“It’s been two months,” Nancy said, looking up from her computer screen. She had been finalizing her schedule for that week, boxing off the times she needed so she could go visit her son in college. “You need to move on with your life. Find yourself another girlfriend or at least go out with your friends. I hate seeing you all mopey like this.” 

Nancy had a point. You did need to make an effort to go out, to go back to “normalcy” or whatever. Even your therapist was pushing you to socialize, saying that it could help you get over the recurring nightmares. 

“I don’t want to go out tonight, Nancy,” you replied, trying to focus on the work in front of you. The numbers were starting to blur together but you persevered. You didn’t have much longer until the end of work. As soon as you finished the spreadsheet on the screen in front of you, you were home free. 

“At least try, Y/n,” Nancy insisted. “Call up some of your friends, hit the club. Even if you don’t drink, at least try to have fun again.”

“But I have fun talking to you. Why do I need to go have more fun.”

Nancy wasn’t taking any of your shit. She packed away her things, powering down her computer. She lowered her standing desk and pulled her purse over her shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll be telling me all about your night out when I see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Y/n.”

Grumpily, you replied, “Good night, Nancy.” 

You stayed at the office thirty minutes more and after a solid five-minute debate with yourself, you gave in and called up your friends. Lyndsey and Brenna both said they’d be down while Brent replied with utter regret, saying he had been roped into working the night shift. 

And so you drove to Lyndsey’s to get ready, agreeing to be the DD seeing as you didn’t exactly want to get pissed drunk--especially not with Emily still on your mind. 

You drove the three of you to the nearest club, showing your IDs to the bouncer and entering without a problem. 

“I’m gonna get us shots,” Brenna shouted over the music, disappearing a moment later. You and Lyndsey stumbled over to a table, claiming it for the three of you as the music seemed to grow louder. 

Brenna pushed through the crowd to get back to the two of you, two shots balanced in one hand with another in her other. “Y/n, I know you said you weren’t drinking but one drink can’t hurt.”

“Yeah, Y/n,” Lyndsey ganged up on you. She took the two shots from Brenna, holding the second one out to you. “Besides, Brenna already paid for it so you have to.” 

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, giving in to their peer pressure. You figured you were already out, what was one shot gonna do? You took up the little glass, counting down with your friends before knocking back the alcohol. You made a face at the taste, coughing a little as it burned a trail down past your lungs. 

“Let’s dance!” Brenna cheered, pulling both of you out onto the dance floor. Laughing, you allowed her to drag you along. She pulled you both on either side of her, jumping up and down as the music pounded into your eardrums, the rhythmic beat coursing through your body. 

I made a promise to you, to never let you go.

You swayed to the music, holding onto Lyndsey’s hands as she sang along. She twirled you around, causing you to giggle. Brenna serenaded you from behind, grabbing your hips and making you sway. 

But now I see you're moving on and I'm still all alone, oh oh.

From across the club, your eyes connected with a familiar pair. Emily Prentiss stared you down. Around her were her work friends, all drinking their cares away. None of them realized that you were there. 

Every time I say I'm happy for you I just lie, oh oh. I made a promise to you and I'm still holding on, oh oh.

You forced yourself to look away, suddenly not in the mood to be dancing. Still, you forced a smile, sticking it out for the rest of the song. As All Mine faded into the next song, you excused yourself for water. Not thinking much of it, they let you go, continuing to dance with each other. 

You stumbled off the floor, accidentally bumping into a guy who looked like a frat boy from one of the colleges in the area. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, stepping away. Instead of going back to clubbing on his own, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him. 

“No need to be sorry, baby,” he drunkenly slurred, hands already moving down your body. “I’m Chad. What’s your name, princess?’ 

“None of your business,” you spat, trying to break free of his grip. Your attempts were futile, however, his grip tightening instead of loosening like you wanted it to. Memories of your abduction flashed through your mind as he placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, the feeling of Stephen’s chapped lips pressed against the same cheek causing you to freeze up. 

“Please let go,” you whimpered, though your pleas were drowned out by the music. Tears started to fall as he kissed down your neck, your body frozen as he took advantage of you. 

It seemed you had an angel on your side that night because Chad was ripped off you not even a moment later, your savior having torn him off your body and thrown him back a good few inches. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” Emily said, placing herself between you and your assailant. 

Chad squared up to Emily, cocking his head sideways as if to intimidate her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

Emily whipped out her badge, shoving it into the poor fool’s face. “FBI,” she said with authority. “Now scram.”

Chad paled at the badge, most likely never having had a run-in with law enforcement before. He scrambled backward, almost knocking over a dancing couple before disappearing back into the crowd. 

Emily turned back around to face you, tucking her ID back in her pocket. 

“Are you okay?” she asked you with a gentleness you could almost mistake with care. You scoffed. You weren’t going to fall for that again. 

“What the fuck, Emily?” you raged. “You think you can just swoop in and save the day. Newsflash, I don’t need you. I don’t need your help and I most certainly don’t need your pity. You can take your false care and shove it.”

You stormed off, not even letting her respond. You went to find your friends, who had both migrated to the bar. 

“We need to leave,” you said, your voice thick with tears. You probably looked like a mess, tears streaking down your face and your body still shaking. You didn’t know if it was anger or fear. 

Lyndsey must have sensed something happened because she jumped to your side the second the words came out of your mouth, urging Brenna to finish her drink so that the three of you could leave. You made your way out of the club, collapsing into the side of the building as the tears started to pour. 

“What happened?” Lyndsey demanded, yanking a pack of travel tissues from her clutch and handing you one. You dabbed under your eyes, trying to salvage whatever makeup you had put on that night. 

“I saw Emily,” you blubbered, accepting another tissue from your friend. “And I said something terrible. Oh, my God. She probably hates me now!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Brenna comforted you, rubbing circles into your back. “But didn’t she break up with you? Baby girl, you don’t need her.” 

You were quiet. You didn’t need Emily, but God did you want her. Not a moment went by that you didn’t miss her. She was everywhere. In the dress that you kept in the back of the closet to the little clay tray that the two of you bought together that held your keys. She was everywhere. 

“I just miss her,” you muttered, sniffling a bit as you calmed down. You felt ridiculous crying over a woman who made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with you. 

“Well, you could always talk to her,” Brenna suggested, her hand leaving your back. She pointed to the side where Emily was exiting the club, looking around for something… or rather, someone. 

At that moment, she noticed the three of you crouched by the wall. She hurried over, Lyndsey and Brenna getting up to form a protective barrier in front of you. 

“Lyndsey, Brenna,” she greeted your friends. “Can I please talk to Y/n?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now,” Lyndsey said, her voice stern. You almost laughed at the thought of Lyndsey using her teacher's voice on Emily. You crumbled the used napkins in your hand, shoving it into your pocket as you collected yourself off the ground.

 You put your hand on Lyndsey’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “We can talk.”

“Are you sure?” Lyndsey’s brows knit together, concern showing quite obviously on her face. You nodded, handing her the car keys. “You guys can go wait in the car. I won’t be long, I promise.”

Lyndsey looked between you and Emily cautiously. 

“Don’t worry,” Emily said, “I’ll make sure she gets back to you safely.” 

With one last look, Lyndsey took the keys and disappeared off to the car with Brenna not too far behind. Brenna turned around last minute, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ movement in Emily’s direction. 

The two of you stood together in silence, unsure of what the first move should be. You bit your lower lip, rocking back onto your heels nervously as Emily didn’t meet your eye. 

“I’m sorry,” both of you said at the same time, awkwardly laughing as you realized what had just happened. You pulled at your fingers, a nervous tic you had developed after your abduction. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. You looked up at her. “I’m sorry I went off on you back there. You didn’t deserve any of that, you were just trying to help.”

Emily shook her head. “No, you don’t have to apologize for anything. If anyone owes an apology, it’s me. I shouldn’t have done anything. You don’t deserve that and you don’t deserve any of what I put you through.”

You swallowed harshly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” Emily said, chuckling as a way to diffuse some of the tension. “I’m a terrible person for what I did to you. I knew exactly what you had just gone through and I still went through with it. I made the choice for you without you even having a say and I regret that.”

“No,” you shook your head. “You’re not a terrible person. Emily, for the past two months I have done nothing but miss you. My goddamn therapist even suggested I reach out to you despite what you did. Breaking up with me while I was in the hospital was a shitty move, I’ll agree, but it doesn’t make you a terrible person. I promise.” 

“You miss me?” Emily asked, her voice small. It was a change from her normal confidence. Her vulnerability and insecurity showed through her normally strong front. You couldn’t help but smile at her, taking a step closer to her. 

You hesitated before taking her hand in your own. You brought a hand to her face, caressing her smooth features. 

“I did--do miss you,” you admitted. “And before you ask anything else, I forgave you a long time ago.”

Emily’s head dropped against your hand, her eyes closing in an attempt to block out the tears that threatened to fall. 

“I don’t deserve you,” she muttered.

You ran a thumb over her cheekbone, memorizing her features. “Bullshit,” you said, your voice low. You pulled her closer, standing on your toes so that your lips could meet. It was slow and passionate as you tried to convey all the emotions you felt for her through that simple action. Your arms looped around her neck as she reacted, pulling you in closer by the waist. 

The kiss turned desperate as Emily tried to make up for the last time, tears rolling down your face as you realized everything into the abyss. You felt yourself relax into Emily, pulling away as you sobbed. 

She put her hand under your chin gently, lifting your face so that your eyes met hers. 

“Why are you crying, baby?” she asked, her voice a whisper. She kissed underneath your eyes, most likely tasting the salt of your tears. You couldn’t help it, the tears weren’t stopping. 

“I just really missed you,” you admitted, wiping the tears away with the heel of your hand. Emily took your hand in hers, bringing them up to her mouth so she could place a kiss on your knuckles. It was the same gesture she had made two months ago before she broke up with you but this time, the message that came with them was different. 

“If you give me another chance, I promise I won’t screw it up,” she said, running her thumb over your knuckles.” I-I promise I’ll work harder on being the woman you deserve.”

You hummed, resting your head on her chest as she drew her arms around you, protecting you from the world and all the evils within it. 

“You already are.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@beautiful-holland​ @toms-order​ @starlightfound​ @lemirabitur​ @grandmascottlang​ @positiveparker​ @bippity-boppity-boopa​ @caswinchester2000​

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #fem!reader #female reader #spencer reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss imagines #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily #prentiss #reader #reader insert #emily prentiss x you #paget brewster #fbi #bau #bau imagine #bau imagines #unsub

[cowgirlontheloose]

Getting It Right

I’m not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens

— Woody Allen 

It delights me that Buddhists talk about death a lot. At my first retreat nearly two decades ago (10 days silent and solo — what was I thinking?) my teacher said on the first morning, “Let’s face it, we learn to meditate in order to prepare for death.” I blinked.

I sat cross-legged in front of her, wishing I had worn my sweater. The basement meditation room was damp and chill with B.C. coast rain. Hints of incense and mould intermingled. Sunshine glared behind Teacher, rendering her a silhouette like someone in a witness protection TV interview. I had hoped to hear something more along the lines of meditation guaranteeing tranquility and bliss. Still, I felt heartened. That rogue elephant in the room trumpeting its truths that we all try to ignore was finally being addressed. I adjusted my rosewood mala beads and straightened my spine. I was in for the long haul.

                                                  * * * * * 

When it comes to disposing of my carcass, I would choose a sky burial. This Tibetan Buddhist tradition is considered an act of compassion towards hungry fellow creatures. Friends and family could haul my wrinkles and folds to a high point somewhere; maybe Foley Mountain near Westport or Champlain Lookout in Gatineau Park. There I would be hacked into pieces and left for critters to devour.

With luck, turkey vultures would arrive. (I simply must tell you here that a group of these birds flying is called a “kettle”. If they are sitting in trees they are a “committee”, but clustered around my corpse they would become a “wake.” Perfect.) 

For decades cremation was my plan. I wouldn’t be taking up land and my ashes could be sprinkled somewhere bucolic. But then I read mortician Caitlin Doughty’s hilarious and thoughtful memoir, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes and Other Lessons From the Crematory. I learned that after flooding a corpse with formaldehyde and rubbing alcohol, a single cremation requires enough fuel for an 800 km. car journey, and releases about 400 kg. of CO2 into the atmosphere along with vaporized mercury from teeth, toxins from prosthetics, bone cement from common surgeries, sulfur dioxide, volatile organic compounds (VOC) and more. A U.S. study states we have 219 toxins in our bodies. One of them, BPA, causes reproductive and neurological damage, and is found in 93 per cent of humans aged six and up. 

If you don’t like acknowledging elephant’s in your house, don’t read Doughty’s book. 

Meanwhile, in another favourite book, Vulture: the private life of an unloved bird, Katie Fallon tells us that the birds play an important role in the health of an ecosystem. Vultures are peaceable, harmless and helpful.

“They are perfectly adapted to cleanse, purify and renew,” says Fallon. Kind of like the Buddha’s teachings when I think of it. 

                                                  * * * * *

Anyway, I’ve rethought the sky burial scene. Even if I could convince my family to carry me furtively to a hilltop by the misted light of a half moon, they would probably balk at hacking me up and would have to hire someone in a dark alley and at great expense. Not good.

Buddhist teachings also remind me to do no harm to any beings, including creepy-crawlies. So surely I need to consider them in my carcass disposal plan. My ancient form is already full of mercury and lead (I have the medical print outs to prove it) along with prednisone, Cipralex and 2 kinds of glaucoma eye drops which I imagine could cause gut-wrenching indigestion or death to fellow scavengers — at least if the pharmaceutical handouts of symptoms and toxicity are to be believed. 

Perhaps we humans are kidding ourselves that natural burials are eco-friendly. Have any studies been done on the effects of toxic human corpses on teeny decomposers and worms? We all know what happens to coyotes that eat poisoned bait. In order to prevent unwitting bacteria, fungi and microbial decomposers from meeting a ghastly end, maybe the right thing after all is to be entombed in a bullet-proof casket.

                                                     * * * * *

The closest “green” cemetery is a three-hour drive away from me. I browse the website wistfully, sighing at the thought of my remains swaddled in a hand-woven linen shroud beneath a meadow waving with buttercups; shimmering with the flit of swallow-tailed butterflies and nary a gravestone spoiling the view. 

Still, I must consider my family and friends. They’ll surely think twice about a six-hour round trip to sit in a meadow slapping mosquitoes to remember me fondly and weep.

I haven’t yet come up with a disposal solution that will not harm others. However, I do have a promising lead on a burial suit infused with non-GMO mushroom spores. Apparently it will eat my corpse and leave behind 100 per cent pollutant-free compost. There’s even a Ted Talk about it. Still, It seems a shame I must nix a sky burial. According to author Fallon, the stomach acid and gut flora of vultures can neutralize dangerous pathogens such as anthrax, botulism, cholera and salmonella. So a bit of mercury, lead and medications would be a cakewalk for them. 

                                                         * * * * *

My beloved Buddhist teacher, Cecilie, went to unusual lengths to wake me up. She threw her false teeth at me, sat on me, or stuck a finger up my nose. 

“You’re doing it again” she would say, tilting a glass of water over my cringing form, her blue eyes piercing mine. If I whined, she let me have it.

She was trying to alert me to one of my blind spots:  my control freak nature.

“Stop it! Stop trying to get everything right!”

“But….”

“Take your hands off the dial — stop twiddling with it!”

“But I just…”

“You’re doing it now — trying to come up with the correct response!”

I shut my mouth.

Cecilie died several years ago. I miss her like crazy. A few precious teaspoons of her cremated body rest in a pouch on my altar. A photo of her smiling right at me with those eyes hangs beside me when I meditate; when I breath and breathe and try to let things go, like the right way to discard my terrestrial scraps. When I try to stop figuring things out.

#death #Buddhism #burials #memoir #humour #sky burial #eco-burial

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Breadcrumbs

It was Saturday night so you knew it wasn’t going to be a good time. I mean, someone would probably be having a good time, but that was usually the problem. I work as an EMT downtown and a “good time” didn’t always turn out right for everyone. Weekends in particular often saw a good number of drunken brawls, passed out Freshmen on lawns, people accidentally locked out of their homes and close to frostbite, and all sorts of mild concussions.

I had been dreading this particular day for the entire week. Madison is a college town, meaning that most of the population is young adults trying to get a degree in psychology or international relations or getting alcohol poisoning by the age of 22. It also meant that when things happened at the college, the rest of the city felt it.

It was the weekend after finals and we felt it. The night before had seen a tiny girl in a rainbow shirt puking in the ambulance three times (and on me) and a pre-law student having a nervous breakdown over their test results while I asked them over and over what they had taken. And at the very end of my shift around 3 am a frat boy tried to punch me and then cried, asked to call his mom, and fell asleep all in the span of ten minutes.

I was actually one of those students just a few years earlier with the same panic and sleep-deprived wildness in me. I tried my best to help with sutures and calming words and a very large puke bag. “Doctor” had been the dream job since I was old enough to google youtube videos of live-surgeries, but getting to “Dr. Braginsky” was a thing far in the future.

For now, it was just me and my crew and the frigid streets.

It was the regular gang that night for the Ford pick-up rig: Mary Keynes who was at least forty but drove like hell and texted her kids every few hours. She had been there longer than any of us and often regaled us with the story of how she left her husband and decided to make several “life changes.” Driving an ambulance was one of those changes.

And then there was the other paramedic on duty: Jimmy Newark. He wasn’t even that interested in medicine as far as I knew and worked as an accountant during the day. He told us he just wanted something to fill his nights and was a slow-talking calm man with a sad-dog look about him, like he had been kicked a few too many times as a puppy. I also knew that I only ever saw him really come alive was when he was staunching a head wound or trying to resuscitate an old lady from heart failure.

It seemed he got some weird thrill from it, but he was good at his job so I never said anything.

It was me, Mary, and Jimmy. We were pretty chummy at that point and worked well together and the first few hours flew by.

We picked up a kid with a badly sprained ankle after he took a spill on some black ice and visited two seniors who had taken some party drug that had them picking at invisible scabs and babbling. I didn’t think anything of it.

It was a ten hour shift and we were four hours in. Downtown was all lights and red faces and bad music coming from somewhere. I had my flash cards out. I had been studying for the MCAT for almost a year and a half by that point and being an EMT was good practice, but it wasn't a replacement for the actual book knowledge med school would take. And I kept getting nervous.

My hands are steady and there was no end to my fascination with the weird things of the human body, but thinking about testing into competitive schools like Johns Hopkins always got me a little stomach sick. I was getting that nervous sick feeling thinking about applications when we got the call.

It came in over the radio and Mary took it right away. I didn’t hear most of the conversation since I was absorbed in my own thoughts and figured it was something like a college student slipping on a beer bottle. But it was different.

“Right, Sherman Avenue.” We made a quick U-turn and turned on our lights just as I stuffed my flashcards away into a separate compartment as to not get in the way. “Good Samaritan call-in.” Mary said over her shoulder, “an injured man off Sherman avenue. Near the park.” Jimmy leaned forward, “Cuts? Broken bones?” “Didn’t say,” Mary said and made a sharp right turn. “He said it might be a homeless guy. That he just looked bad.” “Okay,” I said and mentally prepared myself for any of the “worst” possibilities. There was a relatively small homeless population in Madison, but they were the most vulnerable to violence and the worst of the Wisconsin winter.

We made it in good time to Warner Park and I looked up just in time to see the slate grey skies starting to release little tiny puffs of snow. “Oh great,” Jimmy sighed and looked up with me. “I left one my house windows open.” 

I rolled my eyes and we pulled up to Sherman Avenue with a Goodwill across the street and dark stretches of park on the other. I sighed, “I don’t suppose there was a better tip-off for where this person actually is?” Mary stopped the engine. “Better get out and give it a quick sweep.” We usually only spend a little while looking for an injured person on busy nights like this, but Jimmy pointed first.

“There,” he said and jerked a finger up. “By the light.” There was an upright figure caught in the pure white light of the street lamp on the sidewalk and standing perfectly still. “Is he… hurt?” I asked and squinted and Jimmy was already out of the car. “What are you talking about?” He pinched his gloves on and was running, I got my own gloves on and ducked after him.

“Don’t you want the stretcher?” Mary asked, but I didn’t pause. The man looked like he was standing just fine by himself.

Snowflakes kissed my cheeks softly and I followed Jimmy’s hurried steps toward the figure. “Hold on sir! We’re coming.”

My heart was pounding and I didn’t know why. It beat it in my ears with a hot sticky pulse and my breathing was feverish and far too fast for our light jog. I blinked once, twice, and then the man was farther away. Standing in the light of the next street lamp.

“Wait,” I didn’t like this. I turned to reach for Jimmy, but there was only air besides me. I slowed and looked left and right, “Jimmy?”

Soft snow landed on the tip of my nose and there was a red and visceral scent on the breeze. I took a deep breath of it and recognized the rusty hardened stench of old blood. The type that’s been left there to turn to copper and old musty globs.

I tensed from head to foot and when I looked down there were several tiny drops of blood spattering across the sidewalk. Leading me forward. They were wet and must have been what gave the air a putrid smell.

“Jimmy?” I looked around again, but the street was empty as the wind whipped through the branches of the park trees nearby. I turned to get away from this new eerie twilight feeling.

I took a step and the toe of my shoe dipped into a small puddle of blood. I jumped back, I wasn’t a stranger to blood but it looked darker than normal and seemed to sit...wrong. It was too thick and too shiny in the light.

I stood there as if transfixed, and a soft moan crawled through the space. It matched the wind itself and crooned almost sweetly. I jerked my head up and there was the figure again.

He was standing this time inside the park itself by a bench and tall beech tree. I scanned the area around for Jimmy one more time and then figured maybe he got ahead of me. The moan weaved through the air and I reached out a hand toward it.

“Sir?” The smell of cooking meat and winter chill filled my mouth and I covered my nose with my sleeve. The man stood next to the bench, unmoving, and I tried to be rational, there’s blood. Someone’s hurt. Do your job.

I walked quickly on autopilot to get closer to the stranger. Nothing about him came into sharper focus: he was still a faded silhouette among long shadows. I did notice however there was a light I hadn’t seen before.

It was so faint you might be able to convince yourself it wasn’t there, but it burnt pale and tinted blue around his form. An outline a very determined child might have painted around someone.

I sucked in a deep breath and swallowed down the brackish scent once more as I drew closer to him. Spots of blood appeared as shiny pools on the ground. The moan was even softer now and barely audible.

“I’m here to help.” I heard myself say as I indicated the medical insignia on my jacket. The wind slapped me in the face and I winced.

I looked up and there was no one by the bench, but my gaze was driven deeper into the wooded park by a gentle light. And the figure.

I shivered and knew I needed to turn back, I needed it like water or air or a hug after a long day. But there was this smooth line of blood slithering toward him and I was walking. I tried to make it make sense- I couldn’t just leave the fellow and surely once I had him I could drag him back toward the ambulance and find Jimmy again.

I walked past the park bench and past the leafless trees and some of the slush left over from a storm a few days earlier. The snowflakes caressed my cheeks and I squinted ahead.

The moan was musical at this point and I almost started swaying along to it. I didn’t, but I found that I was still walking and walking.

The park passed by and my eyes were filled with the soft glowing blue light and the deep melodic groan that led me toward the earthy blood scent and faded outline.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away and barely noticed as the landscape opened up. The trees fell away and the wind died down and all I was left with was the smooth ground and shiftless dull winter skies. I was however aware of the crack. There was a crackling, electric sound alike to fireworks or eggshells being crunched on the floor.

The moan fell away altogether and it was quiet with only the crackling of the ground and the lovely blue light that seemed to seep inside me. A strange beckoning feeling followed. “Sir,” I whispered as I finally, finally, reached the outline, “You’re injured…”

That’s all I got out before the thing turned around and something stood before me. Featureless, blank skin and something in the middle of its face like a tearing, violent slash that you might describe as a smile. No eyes, no nose, but a jagged smile that split the face in two with the same sick crackling sound as the ground. Something shifted under me.

I gasped and looked down to see that I had stepped out onto the park lake and that’s when the utter cold swallowed me whole.

Cold and cold and freezing water engulfed my head and my vision went white. I tried to pry my eyes open, but the water was black and thick and there was only the barest hint of shine ahead. A shine like long teeth and something looming and huge just beyond me.

“Ah!” A yell like a battle cry erupted from above and I was being wrenched out of the water just as quickly as I had fallen into it.

I sputtered for air above ground.

“Don’t follow the glowing man.” A hoarse voice wheezed into my ear like a chant over and over. “Never follow the glowing man.” I passed out in a twinkling haze of shaking and murmuring.

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

I was saved by a homeless man sleeping on one of the park benches by the lake. No one on my shift remembered me leaving or where I went. All I knew was that I had followed something thoughtlessly out onto the Warner Park lake and fell in.

I asked a nurse, once, if she thought there was something in that lake, but she just gave me a funny look and said that the lake wasn’t deep enough to house much wildlife. I shut up after that.

In the years that followed I never stopped trying to help people, but sometimes I hesitated now. When it was dark, hard to see, and drops of blood littered the ground. I stopped and listened for melodic moaning in the distance.

I didn’t see anything like it again, but working the ambulance wasn’t the same. I looked around corners too much and jumped too easily at different sounds. I took the MCAT as quickly as I could and things become easier in well-lit fluorescent rooms. 

I do stop whenever I can though and give out blankets to anyone sleeping on the street and avidly tell college students and locals to avoid the lakes at night. And not to follow any trails of blood that lead you onward and onward into the dark.

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

If you enjoyed the story I have a patreon for long term support and exclusive bonus content and a ko-fi for one-time tipping and $3 coffee trips, please consider giving to the artist if you can! Even a little helps 🤗

#horror story #supernatural #supernatural story #writing #original story #my work #blood/ #creepy/

[tricksters-captain]

Dinah Lance/Victor Zsasz/Roman Sionis imagines - Little Bird’s Secret - Part 1

AN: I think I’ll make this into a short series. 

Overall Summary: It’s finally your 21st and there’s only one place you wanna go! However, you may land in some unexpected trouble... 

Pairing(s): Sister!Dinah Lance x Sister!Reader, Victor Zsasz x Reader

Word count: 2,799

Warnings: Strong Language, Mutilation, Knives

It was your 21st birthday which meant you could finally head to the clubs out in Gotham. You had underage drank before like most people do in high school but you never bothered sneaking in anywhere with a fake especially because your older sister would never approve and she was kind enough to still let you live with her after everything your family had been through. 

You and Dinah shared the same father but had different mothers so it wasn’t even like you were fully related to each other but Dinah took you in after you escaped your dad’s grip when you were 12. Dinah saw how he treated you and the soft spot in her heart couldn’t turn a blind eye. 

“Happy birthday kiddo.” Dinah smiled brightly as she brought a small round cake with a ‘21′ on top. You sat up in your bed and rolled your eyes. 

“Not a kid. Legal drinking age now, sista!” You raised your arms and danced on the spot as your sister shook her head at you. 

“I know. I booked tonight off work so I could pick your drunk ass up later. I don’t want you taking a cab, they’re overpriced and usually some perv is up front.” Dinah squeezed next to you on your bed as you blew out your candles. 

“Aren’t you just the best big sister in the world.” You groaned sarcastically. You knew this meant that she’d probably be asking some favour next for doing this for you. 

“Hey! I am!” Dinah shoved your shoulder with hers. “The only thing I ask is that you stay away from my work. You don’t need to be involved with that club, and it’s overrated anyways.” Dinah fiddled with the rings on her fingers as she spoke. 

“You can always quit, D.” You reminded her as you read her thoughts on her opinion of her workplace. 

“Yeah right? And find a job that pays me this well for this little? Hell no.” Dinah scoffed, pushing herself up onto her feet again. 

“I gotta run some chores this morning for Sionis in order to get this evening off but I’ll see you for lunch.” 

“Love you, D.” You reached towards her and you both did the handshake you two have had for years whilst you read the birthday card from her. There was a small chain inside that fell onto your lap. 

It was a gorgeous gold necklace with two small birds on it. You knew they represented the two of you and you didn’t hesitate to put it on.

For majority of the morning you spent seeing your friends and receiving all sorts of gifts, including a lot of alcohol. By the time lunch hit, you made your way through the east end of Gotham to the cafe you and your sister always visited.

You sat down in your usual outside seat and waited for your sister. Ten minutes past and she wasn't here, you allowed a little leeway due to her job but another fifteen minutes was pushing it without a phone call. 

You waited a little longer, ordering another mimosa whilst you sat there alone before you finally spotted your sisters car pull up against the sidewalk.

In her passenger seat, sat someone you’d never seen with Dinah before. He had white buzzed hair and strange red scars all over his face and neck. 

“Shit, (y/n), I’m sorry!” Dinah exited the car and rushed over to you. 

You watched the man behind her slowly get up and round the car, leaning against the door watching you both with dark eyes. 

“D, what’s going on?” You asked, worry filling your face.

“I’m stuck at work still. I left my phone at the club by accident and couldn’t call.” Dinah explained, 

“So no lunch?” Your eyes couldn’t help but pass Dinah again to the man stood behind. He was distracting... Alluring almost. 

“Ignore him.” Dinah stepped in front of your view of him and brought your attention back to her. “Look, I’ll make it up to you, okay?” She pulled out some cash and you refused it. 

“It’s fine. Shit happens. You can take me for hangover breakfast tomorrow instead?” You suggested, Dinah briefly hugged you and apologised in your ear. 

The man lifted a cigarette to his lips as your chin met Dinah’s shoulder and you caught a glimpse of something shiny in his mouth. 

“If I don’t see you before you go out, text me when you need a ride.” Dinah backed away from you and clutched her car keys in her hand. 

“Don’t worry about me.” You brushed her off as she seemed slightly stressed about missing your birthday lunch but also because she was even seeing you. Roman must be a strict boss if she was worried about spending five minutes off the job. 

When you were getting ready to go out, your girlfriends came over and you all swigged at your champagne and occasional shots of tequila as you got ready. 

You applied your lipstick and fixed your dress as the alcohol buzzed inside of you. 

“You ready? Black Mask Club here we come!” One of your girls whooped which made the rest cheer along with her.

“You know we can’t go to the Black Mask. Dinah asked me not to since its her work––” 

“––You always gonna listen to Dinah?! You’re 21! Break those rules already!” With that the girls won the argument and dragged you out the apartment to the Black Mask club.

You felt the nerves bubble inside of you as you queued up for the club but when the bouncer let you inside, you forgot everything Dinah had said before. 

“Holy shit.” You gawked at the interior of the club. Red dominated the most of the club with black hands everywhere including two large statues with eyes on the stage. Living in the east end of Gotham and never really having much money all your life meant you had never seen something so fancy before. 

“Drinks!” The girls dragged you towards the bar and for a split moment you took a second to notice the man from earlier sat inside a booth with a group of women and one other very well dressed man. 

He noticed you too. 

The girls were busy ordering what seemed like hundreds of drinks from the bartender as you continued to observe your surroundings. 

“My guests of this evening! Please listen up!” A man’s voice boomed through the club causing the music to quieten and everyone to face the well dressed man from earlier. 

“That’s Roman Sionis.” Your friend whispered, wiggling her eyebrows at you, knowing you'd find him attractive. 

“It’s come to my attention that we have a birthday girl in the club this evening! Can Miss Lance please come forward?” You froze at Roman’s request but your friends soon ushered you forward. 

“Miss Lance! Happy Birthday! May I asked how old you’ve turned today?” Roman clasped his leather clad hands together as his eyes finally found you. 

“Twenty-one.” You felt your cheeks go red as everyone stared at you. 

“Can everyone give Miss Lance a hand? And free drinks for Miss Lance and her friends for the rest of the evening.” Roman raised his martini glass up into the air. “Happy Birthday Miss Lance!” An applause followed and your attention was stolen by Roman’s employee with the scars as he let out a loud whoop and clapped along for you. His eyes attached to yours.

“My, my, Miss Lance. I would have never known you were our very own Miss Dinah Lance’s little sister unless Mr Victor Zsasz here mentioned that he saw you earlier where your sister was unfortunate to miss your birthday lunch today.” Roman approached you as the girls handed you a drink. 

The man with the scars was whom Roman called Victor Zsasz. His eyes made something inside you flutter as he stared at you with such an intensity. 

“Yeah, we don’t look similar at all really. Different Moms.” You explained, feeling weirdly anxious around the charming man. 

“Well, enjoy your evening, Miss Lance. You look absolutely darling tonight.” Roman tipped his glass at you like before. You smiled thankfully at the man and watched him walk away. 

Zsasz remained stood on the spot, looking you up and down with his hands behind his back before Roman was quick to call his name. 

“Happy Birthday, little bird.” Zsasz muttered, his voice just as deep and magnetic as his look. 

“What was that all about?” One of your friends grabbed your arm and squealed, giddy at the event that just took place and the idea of free drinks all night. 

“I have no idea.” You laughed with your friends before heading to the dance floor. 

You couldn’t help but notice Zsasz watching you as you danced and you didn’t mind putting on a little show. 

You drank and danced for a couple of hours before your sister started to call you. 

“Shit. It’s Dinah.” You yelled over the music. 

“Ignore it! We aren’t done here yet!” Your friends retorted. 

“I can’t! She’s called twice now! Something might be wrong!” You always trusted your sister and you knew you’d be mad if she ignored you if you had called several times. 

You took your phone and half empty glass out onto the smoking area of the club. 

“D?” You shouted trying to be louder than the noise around you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you had died of alcohol poisoning yet.” Dinah responded, 

“No, I’m all good! I’m having a great time! You never told me how lovely your boss is! He’s giving me free drinks because it’s my birthday!” You let it slip before you even realised. 

“You’re at the club?! (Y/n), I told you out of every bar in Gotham that the Black Mask Club was the one I didn’t want you in! How could you just blatantly ignore me?!” She was angry. 

You bit down on your lip and frowned.

“What’s wrong, birthday girl? Nothing should be bringing you down on your birthday.” A strong hand had taken your phone and ended the call for you. 

It was Zsasz. 

“It was my sister. She’s mad because I came here when she asked me not to.” You pouted, the alcohol making the guilt you felt worse. 

“Don’t be sad, little bird.” Zsasz ran his finger across your cheek, his eyes glued to your face. “I got you another drink and something to bring you up.” 

You took hold of the glass and the pill from the man but hesitated to take it. 

Your wide eyes looked up at him as he took the pill from your fingers and placed it against your lips.

“That’s a good little bird.” Zsasz purred as you let him put it on your tongue. “Now swallow it.” 

You did as you were told and Zsasz flashed a golden smile at you. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He took hold of you hand and guided you inside and that’s what you could remember. 

When you opened your eyes it took you a few seconds to realise where you were. 

Your arms were restrained to the chair you were sitting on and so were your ankles. 

You were in Roman’s club but it was dark, not like earlier, the lights were almost all off and a single spotlight focused on you as you noticed you were surrounded by men in suits and guns. 

You fidgeted in the chair, the ropes were really tight and your throat and mouth felt bone dry. 

“Roman?” You squinted in the light to see him swagger towards you with Zsasz by his side. 

“I’m sorry about this, Miss Lance but it’s just something I have to do.” Roman responded, 

You heard the door beside you open and you came face to face with your sister.

She was being held by a large man who you recognised as security with a gun pointed to her ribs.

“Songbird! Welcome! Finally!” Roman burst into his persona as soon as he saw Dinah. 

“What’s going on, Roman?” She asked, looking between you and the man. 

“You see, little bird, you’ve been working for me now for years and it’s come to my attention that I never knew you even had a sister.” Roman stated, circling his finger so that Dinah could be sat down to listen. “It made me wonder, what else didn’t I know about you?” 

“You never asked if––” Dinah was trying to defend herself but Roman snapped. 

“I asked about your family once years ago and you said you didn’t have any.” Roman argued, whether he was telling the truth or not didn’t matter. You shouldn't argue with Roman Sionis. 

“I’m sorry. It must've been when (Y/n) had moved out for a little while. We had a fight. I didn’t expect to see her again.” Dinah quickly came up with something. It was true what happened but you only lasted 24 hours away from Dinah before you came running home apologising. You two were all you had and neither of you actually wanted the other gone. 

“How do I know I can trust you, little bird?” Roman pondered, “You’d never betray me, would you?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve been working here for years, Roman, you can trust me.” Dinah was trying her best to remain calm but seeing you in that chair tied up wound her anxieties.

Zsasz walked up beside you and his smell suddenly engulfed you. 

You closed your eyes, licking your lips to push back the dirty thoughts going through your mind. This was not the time to be getting turned on. 

You opened your eyes when you felt a cold metal touch on your skin under your jaw. 

“Prove it.” Zsasz tilted his head to Dinah. 

You looked up at him, the adrenaline running through you making your chest rise and fall noticeably fast. 

“Leave (Y/n) alone. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. She doesn’t have to be apart of this.” 

“Oh, I know you will.” Roman stated almost casually, “I believe you, little bird.” Roman then started to approach your sister, standing directly in front of her with his back to you. “But in order to trust you, I have to give you a warning.”

With the word ‘warning’ Zsasz had the knife on your upper thigh, slicing a deep line across the skin. 

You cried out as your sister yelled your name. 

Security had to hold Dinah to the chair she was in to stop her from lunging to you.

“Consider this the warning. You betray me. You betray her. ‘Kay?” Roman was still smiling through all of this. 

Zsasz cut the rope behind you loose which allowed you to apply pressure to the cut on your leg. 

Blood streamed down your thigh to your ankle and into your shoe as tears stung your eyes. It was deep and would scar, you could already tell. 

“I’ll see you soon, little bird.” Roman pulled off his gloves as he walked away from the scene. Not even bothering to look at you as he left. 

“I told you not to come here.” Dinah rushed towards you, grabbing some napkins from a nearby booth to help with the blood. 

Zsasz then followed Roman. 

You had to go to the hospital and get stitches for the cut which hurt almost as much as the knife due to their shortage of numbing cream. 

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t drank so much and let the girls drag me in there.” You apologised as you entered the apartment. 

“Don’t.” Dinah held up her finger, silencing you. “Just don’t.” 

You watched her walk into her bedroom and slam the door shut. 

Leaving you alone. 

You sighed, returning to your own room to get changed out of last nights clothes.

A few hours went by when you finally heard Dinah move from her room.

You chased after her as she stormed from the apartment, slamming the door.

“D!” You shouted down the hallway but she was already on her way down the stairs, still ignoring you.

“Dramatic.” A voice behind you made you jump, spinning around to face whoever it was. 

“Guess you really pissed her off, huh?” It was Zsasz. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cautious of the fact that this was the man that just added permanent scar on your leg. 

“Tell your sister that she’s expected back at work first thing tomorrow.” Zsasz brushed past you, goosebumps tickling across your arm as it connected with his. “See you around, little bird.” 

Zsasz stepped backwards away from you, towards the stairs and something in his eyes told you that he meant it. 

Next Part Coming Soon

#Dinah lance #black canary #Roman Sionis #Roman Sionis x reader #Victor Zsasz x reader #Victor Zsasz #Zsasz x reader #Chris Messina #Chris Messina imagines #Victor Zsasz imagines #Roman Sionis imagines #black canary imagines #Ewan McGregor imagines #birds of prey. #birds of prey and the emancipation of Harley quinn #Harley quinn #joker #margot robbie #imagines

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #365

“i’m numb to the pleasure, but still feel the pain”

Are there palm trees where you live? No. Do you own any Hello Kitty stuff? If so, what? No. What’s your favorite flavor of ice pop? Blue raspberry. Do you like animal print? What’s your favorite print? Not really. I think animal "print" only really looks nice on, well, animals. Does your dad have any facial hair? Yes. What do you think of foot tattoos? They're not my favorite, but some look nice. I myself wanna get "11121" (a Silent Hill 4 reference) "carved" onto the top of my feet. Do you like bugs or do they scare you? Some do. I've gotten more into them though as my passion for tarantulas expanded to other inverts, like mantises. Ever seen the movie Chernobyl Diaries? If so, did you like it? If not, do you want to see it? I haven't, but I'd be willing to watch it. I find the whole Chernobyl incident to be extremely fascinating, so I'd probably like it. Did your senior class in high school have a class trip? Where did you go? Bitch I wish. :/ Do you have an instagram account? What’s your username? Yeah, two: brittanymphotography and eldritch_obscura. Do you like Gir from Invader Zim? I think he's cute. Do you or would you ever own a gun? Why or why not? No thanks. If I'm not mistaken, I can't legally obtain one anyway because of my suicidal history. I'm fine with having like, pepper spray and a bat handy by the bed, lol. If it was offered for free by a professional, would you get your hair dyed platinum blonde? For FREE? Fuck yeah I'd try it. What do you normally order at Dunkin Donuts? A chocolate frosted donut, and sometimes a plain/cake one. Do you watch football? Favorite teams? No. What about WWE? Favorite wrestler? That's an even bigger no. Funniest thing you’ve ever heard a teacher say? Okay so this is hard to actually explain and it be funny. I had this amazing, kinda charismatically awkward history teacher in high school, and when talking about some legal stuff I can't remember, she deadass quoted "Without Me" by Eminem ("if the FCC won't let me be...") like so casually and everyone fucking died, just from knowing her and her personality. It was just very unexpected. Do you wear a lot of makeup? What do you think of girls who do? No. Girls can wear however much makeup they please. Do you have a savings account? Are you good at saving money? No. I can't really answer the second question because of me never having a steady flow of money. Would you rather have a relationship or casual flings? Relationship, 100%. I would never have a casual fling. Do you know anyone that’s part Native American? Yes. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I remember none of them. Have you ever tried to poison someone? Yikes, no. Have you ever saved anyone from a fire? No. Have you ever had a seizure? No. I've had sudden spasms, but never a full-on seizure. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Have you ever had a black eye? No. Have you ever had a tooth pulled? No. Have you ever had pneumonia? I have not. Have you ever had tubes put in your ears? Yes, as a baby. Have you ever been shot with an arrow or bullet? Thank god no. Have you ever had kidney stones? No. Have you even been bitten by an venomous animal? No. Have you ever thought about being in the military? Fuck no. I wouldn't qualify, anyway. Have you ever been sedated or put under anesthesia? Yeah. Have you ever used shrooms or any other hallucinogen? No. What upcoming event are you most looking forward to? I can barely believe my tat appointment is almost here lakjsd;ajwlej;rwe What was the last song you heard? I'm currently listening to Motionless In White's synthwave edit of "Voices" they just put out. I looooove it. What time did you wake up today? Maybe like, 5:20? Is there a vase in the room you’re in? No. Have you recently been insulted? Yes. Compared to someone else of your age and gender; do you feel that you have a lot to offer someone? N O P E How many days a week do you work? I'm unemployed. Is there ONE person you feel more connected to than others? Yes. What is your worst relationship quality? I obsess over the person probably leaving, so especially at the beginning, I'm paranoid and distrustful. I want to emphasize that I'm not the asshole that snoops through her partner's phone out of distrust, but still, the fear is just there. What was your most recent serious injury? A serious one? Man idk. I've had a lot or negligible and smaller ones, but a big one... *shrug* What were you most recently happy about? I was happy to see "synthwave" in this video title, haha. Are you a fan of cake? Oh yes. What is your favorite insect? Butterflies. Is your town beautiful? Ew, no. Do you prefer the city or the country? THE COUNTRY. Have you ever witnessed an eclipse? Lots of lunar eclipses. Do you wear lipstick often? No. You’re going on a date with someone you like. What would you like to do? Considering the pandemic, probably just like... grab fast food and sit and eat at a park. That'd be cute. You’re hanging out with your best friend. What would you like to do? It'd be nice to get back to Avatar: The Last Airbender while hanging out with Doris (her beardie that I adore), too. Have you ever written or considered writing a play? No. Who is considered the “black sheep” of your family? Why? Ha, me. To begin, I like all the "dark" stuff, I'm the unreligious one, the one with political beliefs unlike most of my family, I'm not doing what I should be... Why is your favorite movie your favorite movie? It's just a masterpiece. I love love love animals, African one especially, and I find it to be an amazing story of courage and dedication to family. Plus I shamelessly love all the songs, haha. What’s an odor you hate? GASOLINE. FUCK. What’s a sound you hate? Fingernails on a chalkboard. Or screech-y noises in general. If money was no issue, what would you like to do right now? I was initially gonna say go to Yellowstone, but fuck that hot weather this time of year. So, this brings us back to Venus' terrarium; I'd want to get a new one and better materials. What’s something you’re so good at that you take pride in your skill? I wouldn't say I'm "so good" at it, but I do take pride in my writing. What’s something you’d never ever dare to ask another person? Hm. Under ANY circumstance, I guess "are you pregnant?" There's almost like... no situation where I'd be comfortable asking somebody that. What’s the worst/best thing you’ve done without your parents knowing? We're not getting into that lmao. Do you know anyone who has a hearing deficit? No. What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? I could never stand seeing so many hurt and dying animals and still be okay at the end of the day. Are there any opinions you used to have even a few years ago that you look back on and think, “I can’t believe I ever thought that way”? THERE ARE!!!!!!!!!!! A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The last time you cried, what was wrong? I fell and skinned my knees when stepping over this barrier Mom made to keep the damn dog out of the hallway and thus my room to fuck with the cat and eat his food. I previously twisted my ankle, fell backwards, and had one other accident with it despite moving stuff, and I didn't cry from pain, just massive frustration. I want this dog GONE. Do you like multi-choice tests or tests you have to write out? Multiple choice. Who last called you ‘beautiful’? Couldn't tell ya, bud. Have you ever caught a firefly? Yeah, I did that lots as a kid. Do you own any camouflage? No. What’s the stinkiest pet you’ve ever had? Uhhh I dunno. Have you ever been on the news? For what? No. Have you ever seen one of your friends get arrested? No. Do you put sprinkles on anything? No, I hate sprinkles. How do you like your steak? Medium well. Long hair on guys: yes or no? Yaaaaaaaas. Is there a basement in your house? If so, what is it used for? No. When was the last time you started a new medication? It's been a while. What is your favourite type of nut? Cashews, I think. Where did you eat the best pizza you’ve ever eaten in your life? I'm so fuckin basic, like my genuine answer is Domino's lmaooo. Did you ever watch The Rugrats when you were a kid? Yeah, I loved that show. I even had the two video games; I was obsessed with the first one in particular. Do you know anyone who was adopted? Yes. Do your parents’ professions match their college degrees? No. Do you write shopping lists on paper or just remember it in your head? I don't do the shopping, so. But I would definitely need to write it down. Have you ever used a lawnmower? No. Have you ever consumed so much alcohol that you vomited? No. Can you tie balloons? No, actually. My hands are just too shaky. When was the last time you were at a pet store? A few weeks ago when we got rats for Venus. Ugh, it is SO overpriced; they come in a box of two, and as I feed her twice a month, it's honestly quite a bit of money. Like if I remember correctly, it's around $16. FOR TWO. SMALL. RATS. I've recommended we just buy them in bulk NOT from an overpriced chain pet store, but the problem with that is then we have *too* many, and the nutritional value of frozen rats apparently does degrade with time, so I don't want to feed my snake poor food. So it's just an annoying thing we have to do. Have you ever taken a pregnancy test? Not like, an at-home one. I've been tested before surgery, but that was just a safety protocol. Does your ex still think about you? "The" ex, probably not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mom. What is the last state you were in besides your own? Virginia. Would you go down to see the Titanic if given the chance? Man, that's kinda tempting. Maybe. It'd be super cool. Have you ever seen the Hollywood sign in real life? No. Did you ever see a scorpion in the wild? No, they don't live here. Do you type the proper way? Have you ever typed on a manual typewriter? Yes to both. What was your maternal grandmother’s first name? Cecelia. Name a word that people use locally that outsiders probably can’t pronounce. Conetoe. You said it wrong.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''voices'' by motionless in white

[markonasurface]

things you said i wouldn’t understand

things you said but not out loud

Thea stared down at Neil. He looked confused but stepped aside to let her pass.

“He’s sleeping,” Nicky called over his shoulder.

She walked down the short hallway and let herself into their room. Nicky was wrong. Kevin sat precariously on the window, long legs dangling outside. He didn’t turn around.

“You gonna jump?” she asked and she had to grab his arm to make sure he didn’t actually fall out. There was a loud shattering noise that let her know her idiot boyfriend was indeed sitting on the edge of a top story window, drinking.

Kevin turned and slipped back into the room with surprising coordination. His eyes passed over her as he crossed to the dresser on the other side of the room and grabbed a half full bottle of - “Are you drinking vodka? At ten-thirty am on a Monday?”

He raised the bottle to his lips and took in a mouthful. He grimaced slightly, then leaned back against the dresser. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he told her with overcareful pronunciation. “When did you get in?”

“An hour ago. Wymack picked me up.”

Kevin drank again. She waited for him to say something. He drank again.

“It’s ten-thirty in the morning, Kevin.”

“You’ve already said,” he answered and drank yet again, pointedly this time.

This was a mistake, she thought but didn’t say. Instead, she turned and walked out.

Neil leaned against the doorframe ten minutes later and asked, “Is Thea okay?” Before Kevin could ask what he was talking about, he said, “She was pulled from the lineup 30 minutes before her game last night.”

Kevin shrugged and waited for Neil to leave before digging in his pocket for his phone. He had to plug it in and wait for it to get a decent enough charge for him to turn it on. He called his girlfriend but it went straight to voicemail.

He grabbed his computer and pulled up an internet browser, typing in her name. He read a few headlines.

Theodora Muldani Missing From Friday Night Lineup

Why Thea Didn’t Play

Muldani Missing in Siren’s Lineup, Food Poisoning to Blame?

Kevin tried calling her again but was once again sent to voicemail.

“Hey,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just heard about last night though. Are you okay? Call me back.”

.

Kevin caught the ball and hurled it toward Jack. Jack missed it and Kevin immediately positioned himself in front of Dan’s path to steal it back. He ignored Jack’s shout of, “I’m open!” and fired at the goal from halfway down the court.

Renee missed it by half a centimeter.

Wymack called for a break.

One of the other freshmen complained about how many balls Jack missed this scrimmage. Jack took off his helmet and said, “We’re only three points down. I’m playing better than you.”

“And yet, Kevin is five shots in this morning and outplaying both of you so that’s not really saying much, is it?”

As he walked off the court, Wymack called his name. Kevin rubbed his forehead on his shirt sleeve and walked toward his father.

“Andrew’s just talking shit,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to drink this morning.” His pounding head was a constant reminder.

Wymack looked a little skeptical but said, “Great. If you’re sober, you can go pick up Thea from the airport.” He held out keys and Kevin stared at them.

“She didn’t tell me she was coming,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Twice in one month?” Nicky raised his eyebrows but kept walking.

“She said she’s texted and called you.”

Kevin went to change. After puking, showering, puking in the shower, dressing, taking a handful of ibuprofen, and downing a bottle of water, he left for the airport. Thea was waiting out front by the time he got there.

“Hey,” she said, leaning across and kissing him.

He held her hand as they drove back toward campus. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m going back in the morning,” she answered, her voice was soft. He shot her a look but she was staring out the window.

Thea was not a soft person.

“Are you just here to check on me or …?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts so I just needed to come see you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “My phone is dead and I just haven’t gotten around to charging  -”

“You look like shit.”

He gave her an amused sort of grimace.

.

They got to Fox Tower a little after three. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she grabbed his hand, forcing him to turn back to her. He closed the space between them and she leaned back into the door.

He looked into her eyes, then she watched as his eyes moved to her lips, then the tip of one of her Dutch braids that he was twisting between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looked into her eyes again, she pulled him in.

His hand moved to her hip, then slowly down her thigh as he quickly deepened their kiss. His body pressed hers into the door. His fingertips trailed under her dress and she lifted her leg so her knee was pressing into his hip.

.

He opened his mouth, breathing hard, hands still gripping the back of her thighs. He lifted her higher for a brief moment before letting her slide her feet back to the floor.

We need to talk, she meant to say.

"Again,” she told him instead, shoulder throbbing from where he’d just bitten her. She kissed him and guided him backwards until they reached the bedroom.

.

When he opened his eyes, Thea was staring at him. He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. He kissed her shoulder where a bruise was forming and asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, sounding distracted.

His arm was over her waist and he pulled her closer so their chests were pressed together. He moved to kiss her jaw and she wanted to say again but she forced herself to say, “We need to talk.”

Kevin pulled away, looking displeased. Talking was his least favorite thing to do these days, mostly because whenever someone talked to him, they wanted to discuss his “drinking problem.”

So he was surprised when the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m pregnant.”

Only then did he realize neither of them had thought to use a condom today, though it was probably deliberate on her part because she already knew they didn’t need one. Kevin had been careless.

His eyes narrowed slightly and he sat up. “Pregnant? We haven’t since -”

“Riko’s funeral,” she reminded him, sitting up, too. “This baby was probably conceived in the same bed you lost your virginity to - what was her name? Lauren? Liv?”

Her tone was cold. Thea was trying to rile him. He didn’t bother correcting her.

“Maybe we should have that bed shipped to us -”

He tuned her out, trying to do the math in his head. Riko had died in April. His funeral was held in May. She was still talking but he asked, “What are you, seven, eight weeks along?”

“Something like that.”

“Have you been to a doctor? Does your team doctor know?”

“Of course not,” she hissed, looking offended.

Kevin considered the information he had. “Are you going to keep it?”

Immediately he knew he had said the wrong thing. Thea turned. “Am I going to keep it?”

“That’s not what I meant -”

“I’m the woman so of course it falls on me, right? I shouldn’t have told you.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her from climbing out of his bed. “Thea, that’s not what I meant. I-I-I -” His head was spinning. He felt himself start to shake. He needed a drink.

Thea pulled her arm out of his grasp and pulled the sheet higher. “I just told you I’m pregnant and you’re thinking about your next drink.”

He wanted to refute it but he didn’t want to be a liar.

“I’ve been patient,” she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “After everything you’ve been through and not being able to tell anyone for so long. I’ve tried to be supportive even as you destroy yourself and try to push everyone away.

“I thought when I told you I was looking for an answer from you, a-a-a declaration, a promise?” She shook her head. “Now I know I should’ve taken care of this myself and left you out of it completely.”

He offered his hand but she didn’t take it. He shook his head at it. “Thea, I’ll promise you anything you want if you want this baby,” he said. When she looked away he huffed a short laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know how much harder women have to work. I train twice as much as the men on my team because if I don’t, coaches will think I’m not dedicated enough. I stop 73 percent more attempts at the quarter line than Thompson and he still gets paid twice as much as I do.”

Kevin never dared to interrupt Thea when she was making a point.

“I can’t risk throwing away my career in the hopes that you’ll stop drinking and you’ll be there for us.” A tear fell down her cheek. “Even if it upsets my parents or you, I don’t think I can have this baby.”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. He wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about, but he knew everything she was saying was true. He was a 21 year old alcoholic with so many traumas he hadn’t even tried to start processing. Even without his issues, he would never ask her to give up Exy.

Thea climbed down the ladder and pulled her dress over her head. When she opened the bedroom door voices carried in.

“No one wants you in this apartment,” Nicky said.

“I just wanted to see if Kevin wants to run some drills tonight,” came Jack’s voice. “Oh.”

Kevin opened his mouth but Thea walked out.

“Thea! Nice to see you -”

She pushed past Nicky and snatched her bra from Jack’s outstretched hand. She stooped to pick up her panties and Wymack’s car keys, slipped on her shoes and left.

She sat in the car for awhile, trying to stop crying.

.

Four weeks later

When she left practice, she was surprised to see Kevin leaning against her car. She heard some of her teammates whispering. Even in the pros Kevin Day was a big deal.

He straightened as she came near. She stopped in from of him, a hand on her hip.

She expected him to ask her if they could talk. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes narrowed slightly but then she realized there was something in the hand he had taken hers with.

Slowly, she opened her hand so she could see what was there. On her palm was a round, red chip. She looked back at him, eyes slightly rounder and wet.

She moved her duffle bag around to her front and opened the side pocket. She removed the envelope and held it out to Kevin.

His eyebrows furrowed and she saw his fingers trembling a little as he opened it. He took out the photo, stared, the crease in his forehead getting deeper. She saw the moment it registered as he glanced back up at her face, a question in his eyes. She nodded.

When he grabbed her hand again, Thea felt the tears falling down her cheeks. He pulled her to him, his other hand coming around to cup the back of her head as he pressed his lips firmly to hers.

She heard some wolf-whistles as she fisted the front of his jacket in her hands, a mixture of relief and nerves fluttering around in her chest.

They pulled apart only for Kevin to pull her back in again. They would have to talk but for now the red chip said everything she need to hear.

#aftg #tfc #kevin x thea #tfc fic #Things You Said

[tearsofgrace]

Ragged Angels

chapter 2 is up! writing this for anon (sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted lovely)

read below or on archive!

wc: 2.5k, warnings: light torture, other tags: angst, pining, torture, mafia au, age difference, husbands, established relationship

Dean woke up and immediately wished he could go back to sleep. His jaw ached, and when he tried to shift it there was a sharp pop so he decided to let it be. Rope scratched against his tied hands, and he struggled to shrug his shoulder against the bindings and ease some of the tension wracking him. 

He heard footsteps behind him as he looked around, trying to get his bearings as quickly as possible. A bright fluorescent light hung from the ceiling and he squinted at it, quickly averting his eyes. He knew Cas had a few places like this, but he never pressed him for details. He figured it would be safer for both of them. 

The footsteps came to a halt and Dean resisted the urge to turn his head to see who had entered the room behind him.

“Dean Winchester.” It was the same voice from the alley. What had Cas called him? Crowley? 

“Crowley,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. Getting jumped in the alley had been one thing. He’d reacted instinctively, immediately reverting to who he’d been all those years ago. But now the pressure was more drawn out, his nerves stretched to the extreme. And adrenaline wasn’t gonna cut it. 

“So Castiel is really shacking up, huh? With a little twink too.”

Dean bit his tongue and stared straight ahead as Crowley moved around to stand in front of him. 

“How old are you, boy?” 

Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked. His heart was starting to pound less fervently against his rib cage and he felt in control again. “Nine and a half,” he said with a wink. 

He saw the fist coming, but he didn’t dodge it. He just steeled himself as it slammed into his right cheek, managing to stop himself from flinching entirely. 

“Oh, Dean.” Crowley’s voice was surprisingly calm for the anger that seemed to roll off of him in waves. “We know everything about you. Your father beat you until he died of alcohol poisoning. You bounced around in the system. The only family you really had in high school was a dirty street gang. A school counselor helped you clean your act up and you got off drugs, went to school, got into non-profit public relations. Quite the success story, really.”

“Ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?” Dean said, licking his lips. 

“Not really,” Crowley said smoothly. “And after all that, after you made something of yourself, got off the streets and started making a, what would they call it… a positive impact on the world…” He trailed off, snorting and looking Dean up and down. Dean scowled back at him, but let a cold smile slip onto his face before Crowley went on. “After all that you fucked a Don.” 

“Jealous?” 

Crowley pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the back of his hands before tucking it neatly back into his pocket. “We don’t need anything from you, Dean. Not really. I mean, eventually, we’ll kill you.” He chuckled softly and stepped forward, grabbing Dean’s bruised jaw and turning him so their eyes met. “But I need to get Castiel here first. I want to have him watch the life drain from your eyes, watch you beg for mercy.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

Crowley released the hand from his jaw and patted his cheek twice. “Sure, darling. And after your guts,” he spat the word, almost like it offended him, “are spilled all over the floor… then I’ll Castiel, and damn all the retribution that will come with it.”  

“Why?” Dean considered his next words, knowing he’d probably get more than a punch to the face for them, but decided he was here anyway and he might as well enjoy it. Dean grinned up at Crowley and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because Cas killed your kid? I bet he enjoyed it, too. Bet he took his time, did it real slow.” The thought made him cringe, because he knew Cas wasn’t like that. He was a killer, sure. But he didn’t enjoy it. Still, it was worth saying it to see the look on Crowley’s face.

His jaw went slack and his eyes widened just a little. It seemed like an eternity, waiting for him to respond. Waiting for a finger to get cut off, an eye to be taken out, a vein to be cut. But Crowley just stood there, his eyes cold and empty. 

Eventually, he stepped forward, slamming his fist into Dean’s jaw one more time. Dean felt his mouth fill up with blood, and he spat the metallic liquid out toward Crowley. 

Crowley took a deep breath and looked him and up and down, his face a mask of disgust. “I’ll leave you for Stella,” he said quietly. Then he walked from the room, each step slow and deliberate. 

Dean waited for the footsteps to fade completely before jerking his hands against the ropes. They were tight, professional. But they were also rope, which meant he should be able to get out of them given time. He wondered briefly why they didn’t use zip ties or even handcuffs, then he turned his attention back to the task. 

It hurt like hell. His wrists were already rubbed raw and his shoulders were tight from being held back at that angle. And on top of that, his jaw was throbbing from the blows and the confrontation in the alley. 

Part of him wondered if Crowley had a point. He’d gotten away from the rough side of the city. Had made something of himself despite what everyone thought. Was happy, was helping people. And now he was here. 

He didn’t blame Cas, he’d gotten involved with this, and he knew full well what the risks were. He’d chosen Cas. Or, really, Cas had chosen him. He might play the tough guy to everyone else, but both he and Cas had no confusion over who was in charge. He belonged to Cas. He had to belong to Cas so fuck any consequences that came with it. 

He shivered a little and turned his attention back to the ropes cutting into his skin. After a minute, he started to feel the bonds loosen a little. Before he could slip a hand out the echoes of footsteps once again made him freeze. These were different though, lighter. He twisted his fingers painfully upward to grab the slack rope and make it look tight, and then straightened his shoulders, sitting still. 

His new visitor entered the room slowly, as if waiting for Dean to turn his head. When she finally entered his field of vision he felt white hot anger course through him. It was the girl from the alley. Stella, apparently. 

“You’re the bitch who attacked Cas,” he spat. 

“In the flesh.” She said it flatly, without any sass or attitude. And that only served to make Dean’s skin crawl more. 

He sneered up at her, trying to gauge how closely she was paying attention. Then he tried to decide how quickly he could get a hand free and strangle her. Probably not fast enough. 

“Mr. Delfino wants you to be more bloodied up when your boyfriend gets here,” she said, pulling a knife from inside her jacket, her face still completely blank. 

“Husband,” Dean corrected automatically. Then he paused, frowning. “Crowley’s last name… is Delfino?” He snorted. “What was he adopted?” 

“Yes,” she said with a shrug. Before he had time to respond, she pressed the knife into his cheek, dragging it slowly across to create a deep cut. 

He grit his teeth together and breathed sharply through his nose. “So, you his daughter? That your brother that’s six feet under?” 

She jammed the knife into his shoulder and left it there, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Crowley is my brother. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You were on the streets, you don’t know what family means. And then,” she stepped forward, taking the knife out before immediately jamming it back in, and Dean couldn’t stop the growl that escaped him. “And then you go and marry the man that somehow got to the top of a family he isn’t even a part of. A family he infiltrated and corrupted. One of the oldest, one of our allies.” She shook her head and stopped herself, seeming to realize Dean wasn’t saying anything, was just staring at her with pain coursing through his body. 

Stella stepped back, taking the knife with her. She looked down at it thoughtfully, then tucked it back in her jacket. Dean vision was starting to go blurry on the edges but he tracked her eyes carefully. Her mask was starting to slip a little, and he could see the barely contained heat brimming under the cool surface. 

He got his hands ready, letting go of the rope he was still holding tight around his wrists. “Well he’s dead. And he’s never coming back.” His jaw ached with every word, but it paid off. As soon as the words left his mouth her demeanor shifted completely. She narrowed her eyes and let out an almost feral growl before lunging forward, striking him across the face. 

He grunted in pain and tried to stay focused as her fists struck him over and over. Everything went fuzzy and black, but he maintained a thin thread to reality. It wasn’t too hard when he pictured Cas’ eyes. Piercing blue cutting through the red hot pain. 

He could almost hear his voice, low and soothing but radiating power. Focus, Dean. I’m here, but you have to focus for me. 

So Dean let his head be whipped back and forth, his entire face swollen and bloody and bruised and his arms dripping blood. And he focused on his hands, on the rough rope coiling around them. He was so close now, to being completely free. The longer he strained against the constraints, the looser they felt around him. 

He felt the exact moment they slipped to the floor. It was right as Stella delivered a forceful blow to the throbbing wound on his shoulder. He cried out, leaning forward. Then he sucked in a deep breath, focusing on Cas, only Cas. 

Free of the rope, his hands came forward easily, but his motions were clumsy, pain clouding his thoughts. He clawed at her throat, pushing her back and throwing his whole weight on her. His only advantage here was brute strength and size. 

She stumbled backward, the fury fading from her eyes and some of the reason returning. Her hand went for the knife in her jacket and he swatted it away, following up his advantage and landing on top of her, hands at her throat. 

“Stop,” she gasped, her whole body straining against him. But he couldn’t, or he wouldn’t. His mind was just a red haze complete with high-pitched buzzing. He tightened his grip around her neck, the pain in his arms and on his face a dull throb in the background. The light in her eyes died slowly, and eventually she stopped thrashing. 

Everything slowed down and he leaned back on his heels, panting. He took several deep breaths to steady himself and then forced himself onto his feet. With tired eyes, he stared down at her still body. He didn’t know if she was dead, or just passed out. He didn’t have time to care.

Some part of him whispered, This isn’t you. You help people now. But he pushed it back. He could help people a different day. 

He pulled back his blood-soaked shirt from his shoulder and looked more closely at the wound. Neither cut was nearly as deep as he’d thought they were, and he rotated his shoulder a couple times, nothing there was a sharp stab each time, but he could still move it. 

He didn’t even bother to touch his face. It was puffy and throbbing and it wasn’t going to get better. But he had to get out of here anyway. He turned and examined the rest of the room behind the chair where he’d been sitting. It was a warehouse, but it was cleaned up, almost clinical. There was a large double door that was propped open that led into a hallway nearly as brightly lit as the room he was standing in. Everything looked too perfect, too spotless, and the light just made every surface shine. 

After his heart rate had dropped and his breathing evened out he walked to the doorway. He turned back to look at the room and saw Stella’s body lying there, completely still. The voice was stronger now, telling him to rush over to her, to take her pulse, to try to help. 

He stood motionless, his inner voices battling it out, but then they faded completely and he sighed in defeat. He half-jogged to her side and knelt next to her. 

The ground felt cold beneath his legs, and it seemed to dig into him as he reached out two fingers for her neck. He pressed them into the vein and waited, breathless. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a steady if somewhat weak beat against his fingers. He pushed himself up with his good arm and went to finally leave when suddenly her whole body seized. 

Coughs racked her body and her arms flailed uselessly at her sides and her eyes flew open. They were filled with terror, but they fixed on him, met his gaze with desperation.

“Dammit,” he said under his breath. Stella’s arms pushed against the floor, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she struggled to push herself up. Cursing himself silently the whole time, he lifted her by the shoulders, letting her sit up straight and open her windpipe. 

The coughs lasted a few more moments and he let her use him as a support, stopping her from falling to the ground. 

When they finally stopped she looked up at him, tears thick on her face from the full-body coughs that had taken her over just moments before. “Fuck off,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. 

He shrugged and steeled himself. She was alive, she was okay. He stood and turned back to face the door, and his heart froze. Crowley and two of his men stood there. Crowley had his hands in his pockets, and there was a smirk on his face as he took the situation in. 

“I was wondering what was taking so long,” he said softly. 

Then he nodded to the men and they rushed forward, roughly grabbing Dean’s arms and pulling him to the floor. 

He moved to fight, but he was exhausted. And a new bout of pain wracked his body as soon as they pulled at his injured arm. So he let himself be forced to the floor. Let himself submit as they knelt on his back, deciding his fate. 

Silently, he prayed. It didn’t matter that his husband would never hear him, it was a comfort all the same. 

Hurry up, Cas. Please. I need you.

tag list [as always, ask to be added or removed <3]:

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @vought @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @starclaire @flowersforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @gmotheemo

#destiel fic #destiel fanfic #mafia au #destiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #deancas fic #my writing

[jay-and-dean]

Too good to be true (This is how it ends.)

(Dean x Reader)

Summary : Dean and her are driving home, after another hunt together. They are in love, have been for a long time and it was so good… It was too good to be true…

Warnings : ANGST. DARK FIC. Seriously, I can’t put all the warnings because it could kill the fic, just don’t read it if you’re fragile lately.

Words : 2.4 k

Want to read more => ***MASTERLIST***

____________________

           Dean was desperate.

           That’s how it happened.

           She was looking out the window again, that expression on her tired face : an implacable anger, but not the kind of anger that makes people leave, no, the kind that irreversibly erodes the soul.

           She was silent again, what could she say ? Dean wanted her to look at him, he needed her to look at him, but not like she did lately, not with that anger, not with her broken heart just behind her doleful eyes.

           He needed the look of the beginning : the first months, the first year… Those knowing smiling glares, the little wrinkles at the corner of her eyes when she stared at him in awe, the lust burning in her dark pupils constantly…

           It’s gone now. The light in her died. Slowly, day after day, lie after lie.

It died during the nights she spent crying alone, hoping eventually she will fall asleep forever. It died while he was away, drowning his pain in the violence of hunting, in the bottom of a glass, in a bed that wasn’t his…

Is it possible that he loved her too much to make her happy ?

Squeezing the steering wheel, he struggled to see past the rain drops on the windshield. Drops of water, that’s all there were, on the windows, on her face, in his eyes… The little straight glowing lines of falling rain hit, harassing, the only light he still could control : the Impala’s headlights.

They were the best. Nothing more, nothing less. Together, they were invincible and their love used to frighten every nightmares, every monsters. It made the both of them twice stronger. At least in the beginning of their story…

Dean had found the woman that was going to save him when he thought nothing could ever but enough to do. She knew Hell too, not because she went there, but because it had followed her here on Earth, her entire life. The anger, the guilt, the sleepless nights… She was so much like him… And she took all of it when she moored to his gloomy life.

Everything was good now, and it was too good to be true…

She was pure fire and their passion burst just like in the movies. His hands always on her, her magic mouth able to make him beg with a whisper.

Moans in the middle of the night, laughs. Getting drunk and making fun of everybody else. Their hands in the blood of their last kill, their kisses burning… They were scary and their love was extreme. It consumed like bonfire.

It was just too good to be true…

He turned his head and saw the bruises on her neck. Bruises of hating love, and it got him half aroused, half disgusted with himself, as usual. Why wasn’t he able to be anything but rough lately ? Why did she provoke him so bad when he tried not to ?

How did it drift that much ?

Now their love making had become bruising and as violent as hate. No sweet kisses, no shy brushes of the hand, just hungry bites and yelling at each other while tearing each other clothes apart. And the sweetest taste of their mornings together turned to a sick codependency.

“Say something” he grunted, knowing it will probably turn to another fight, but the silence was killing him.

“Will you think of her next time you fuck me, Dean ?” she snapped, and his heart sank a little lower, making him nauseous again.

           Shame.

           A few years ago, she relieved him of his guilt with her love, but her hate little by little brought shame instead, and Dean couldn’t sleep anymore.

“Don’t be ridiculous…” he kept his eyes on the road, not realizing he was going a little faster, chasing something that he could never gain back : The love of his life.

           Tears fell on her face, and Dean remembered swearing he would never hurt her. That was a long time ago…

           That was too good to be true.

           Silence fell again in the car. That deadly silence that smelled just like a panic attack. Lately, he didn’t listen to music anymore, neither did her, so silence won… But music… The poison that spoiled their love ruined every song on Earth. Love songs make Dean want to rip his own heart, and other songs just didn’t matter at all.

That storm outside had given the entire world a smell of dampness, of mold and Dean hated this.

He had no idea how it got that bad… He just remembered fear, a fear that used to wake him up at night. Because it was too good to be true, and eventually, he was going to lose her. Came over-protectiveness, possessiveness, and all the excessive reactions, the hurtful words that comes with them. Too much alcohol too, way too much.And fights, fights over hunts, fights about risks, about choices, about mean words and fights about fights. Those about jealousy and just about everything.

Yelling at each other constantly…

Venom on the lips, and bottles crashing on the wall and fists breaking pieces of furniture.

He remembered that evening she hit him… The first time. She had promised never to hurt him too. But he had promised to drink less, to stop trying to control her, to trust her during hunts…

He broke every single promise he made except that one about loving her that much for eternity…

Accelerating again, he hissed thinking of their fights, of her fists hitting his chest with rage, of his hands pushing her against the wall while she yells and fights him.

He remembered the night he stepped on both their hearts, already bleeding out on the floor, he just crushed them with his boot.

When Cassie showed up just that night… When his rage blinded him enough to make him think a dive in the past would ease the pain. A past when he hadn’t been ripped apart by love yet.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me that !” she yelled. Again. Her voice had only been yells, sobs or moans for such a long time now. “Her hand was on your knee Dean ! Her fucking painted nails ready to dig in your back !”

“I don’t want her !”

           He knew he was the one who made her crazy. Crazy in love, first, then he broke her trust, he broke her heart, and her mind with it.

“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME, DEAN ! I HATE YOU !”

Here it was.

As the words stabbed him, his hands gripped the wheel tighter and his eyes turned to her furious face. Her veins were showing in her neck, her eyes were red from crying too much, for too long…

“Stop being a crazy bitch !” his own word made him flinch.

He never thought he would speak like that to someone, let alone to the love of his life… But violence is easy to get used to.

“I AM THE CRAZY ONE ! YOU ALMOST KILLED THAT GUY LAST WEEK ! COPS ARE LOOKING FOR YOU !”

“He said he wanted to take you on the fucking wall !” he started to shake again, afraid, so afraid of something inside of him… But what ?

“WELL I NEVER CHEATED ON YOU DEAN !”

“You made him hope ! You were making me jealous on purpose ! Do you think I didn’t see the slutty smile, and the little bites of you lips ! Your lips are MINE !”

“IT HURTS HUH ?!”

           He bit his lips until he tasted his own blood.

Yes, he almost killed that guy ; he had no control over anything lately, she made him worse than the Mark of Cain, and still was the best thing that happened to him. And, yes, when someone got close to her, Dean turned to a psycho, she had to throw a glass on his back to make him stop- he could still feel the ache of the impact on his spine- ; and she had to grab his wrist to make him run. But while the sirens were ringing in the hot summer night, he took her so hard in that alley, marking her with his angry hands, terrified he couldn’t stop his fingers from squeezing her neck to death… Tears in her eyes, she didn’t flinch when he threatened her, she never did.

           Like she was satisfied by the idea of dying from his hands.

“You want me to suffer, you treat me like I’m a fucking enemy…” he sighed.

She took a shaky breath, obviously fighting her own painful lungs.

“I love you so much” she whispered before bursting in tears again, her thighs shaking with the ache she lived with each day. “I love you…” she was struggling to breath. “I love… Make me forget chaos…” she begged.

“Forgive me… Forgive me and I’ll do anything to make you happy again” he tried without an ounce of hope.

“I tried Dean… But each time I think of it…” she had so much gravel in her voice, they were choking her. “I want you to fucking die…”

He couldn’t add a word. Despair making him dizzy, and this stupid rain…

           The Impala was cleaving the night at the speed of his heart.

           He bent a little and looked up to try and see the sky but the storm was hiding all the stars. For a second, he wondered where was Sam. Probably in the bunker, with Eileen, with Jack, Cas, maybe Jody, Garth… With those friends he started neglecting a long time ago.

           He thought of how she easily became friends with all of them. She was his spring. After a whole life of a bitter winter…

           She has been the spring he waited for since childhood ; ice melt, flowers bloomed, he wasn’t cold anymore, and it wasn’t so dark.

           He can’t go through winter again, not now that he knew the heavenly warmth of her arms.

           She was spring…

           But summer is crushing them now, flowers wilted and the sun burnt hope.

Just smile, he begged in his head. Smile, baby, I’m begging you, I can make this right… Just smile…

           She put her face in her palms and screamed, making him jump a little, like he had been slapped. Her pain hurting him even more that it did her.

“I’ll make it right baby… I can fix us” he said reaching her knee.

But she hit his hand.

“DON’T TOUCH ME !”

“I’ll make it right” he insisted.

“YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT ! LOOK AT US DEAN ! TELL ME WHAT IS RIGHT ?” she yelled again, turning on her knees to face him. She seemed a little taller now, and she was so beautiful he just couldn’t believe it. There was no other woman he could look at, no other human he really cared about.

           The tiny shorts she was wearing didn’t hide the fingers shaped bruises on her thighs, the tank top wet with her sweat, and her purple and yellow collar of shame screaming “too late, too far” at him.

           And her eyes, the sadness in it was like a black hole.

“LOOK AT US !” she begged, and he wondered how this face could have been smiling once… It was a long time ago, and it was too good to be true.

           He would have given everything he had to make her pain stop. Everything. But he had nothing left but her…

           He thought it couldn’t be worse now, but she sat on her ankles and shook her head in sigh of renunciation.

“I have to let you go, Dean” she stated with a hoarse voice.

“What ? No !” he panicked, feeling Hell tighten around the world. His blood ran cold and icy sweat broke through the skin of his back. “Don’t say that…”

“You’re miserable, and… I want you to become Dean again, my Dean, the man I love so…” her voice broke. “So so much.”

“I am, baby… I am your Dean.”

“Not anymore… I’m like drug, you… you want me really bad but I’m b-bad for you” she wiped her face, trying to seem sure. “I’m letting you go.”

“Stop saying that, that’s not true. I was nothing before you came to my life.”

“You were a hunter, you were a hero, my hero… baby.”

           Here was the love. Here was what he so desperately needed, and she was saying it was over. He was high on her indeed, but how could true love be a bad thing ?

           Rage was his last defense against despair, so as usual, he couldn’t hold it back longer.

“I HAD NOTHING ! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME ! YOU WON’T ! I WILL TIE YOU UP IF I HAVE TO” he yells, his beloved car moving slightly aside for a second. “YOU’RE MINE ! YOU’RE FUCKING MINE !”

“GOD I HATE YOU !” she shouted.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL ! I CAN’T FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT YOU !”

“I HATE YOU !” I HATE YOU !” she screamed, tears soaking her face, her tiny fists hitting his shoulder. “LET ME GO ! LET ME GO ! I CAN’T…” her voice started to whistle and she was panting. “I can’t… Let me go… Make it stop… I love you so much it’s killing me…”

That war will never be over. There will never be truce.

           Nothing would ever make it better. Holding up seemed impossible, and letting go… Letting go… he just couldn’t think of it.

Smile… I’m begging you baby, smile…

           He accelerated again, like he could catch past.

I need your smile to breathe, tell me I didn’t break you that bad… Please.

Please.

Please…

           He never deserved her, he never deserved love, he was as bad for her as she was bad for him. But maybe that was the real curse of the Winchesters after all.

Love.

           His hands left the steering wheel for a second, just to grip it again, on the left of it. His jaw clenched.

           Time slowed and he looked at her one last time, completely ignoring the road go by at a crazy pace before them.

Smile… I’m begging you.

           Her wet reddened eyes widenned, looking behind her to the pit on the side of the road.She looked at him again and just let her head fall tenderly on his shoulder.

           And he brusquely turned right.

           The tires squealed…

           This is how it ended.

____________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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#jay-and-dean #supernatural #Supernatural Dean Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean x reader #angst

[that-yandere-life]

Ahhh can we get an imagine with Bucky or Wade Wilson where he comes home mildly drunk and his s/o has a mini panic attack? Sorry if that’s triggering ^^; I’ve just had bad experiences with drunk people in the past and it always makes me a little panicky >~

[Warning: Talks about drinking and alcoholism ahead, in case that is triggering for some people!]

Bucky Barnes-

Bucky had gone out with the guys that night, and Thor happened to bring along some Mead.

Now it was very rare for Bucky to get any level of drunk due to the serum he had used on him.

His metabolism runs it off very quick, to where normal liquor won’t even phase him even if he drinks a whole bottle at once.

So it’s safe to say that you probably have never seen him drunk over the course of your relationship, it just has never come up.

Showing up at home, his speech slightly slurred, having a hard time walking in a straight line.

He wasn’t shitfaced, just slightly past tipsy where everything seems great, and the party is in full swing.

Unlocking the door took him a second because he kept missing the keyhole, but what truly shocked him was your reaction.

“Hey doll, I’m hommmmme! I sure missed you Buttercup! Come give me a kiss.”

Going up to kiss him to welcome him home, you smelled the rank alcohol on his breath taking you back to a place you never wanted to return.

Having many bad experiences with people who drink, one being your father who became belligerent when drinking.

Ranting and raving while throwing things around the house, smashing against the drywall before falling into a million pieces.

Most of the time when you knew it was coming you would take your siblings and hide in the closet until your mother could coax him into bed.

Now flashing back to one of those moments, where your mother ended up with a broken arm you couldn’t help but fall apart yourself.

Backing away from Bucky, your lip trembling as tears welled in your eyes quickly falling freely down your cheeks.

“Please don’t”

Bucky was incredibly confused why you were saying that, did he do something wrong?

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

Collapsing on the floor covering your face in your hands as your tears turned into sobs, wracking through your entire body.

Shaking off his drunken state almost immediately he kneeled down pulling you into his lap or at least trying while you push him away.

Taking a moment he went and took a shower, brushing his teeth, using alcohol-free mouthwash before returning to where you were.

“All gone baby, I promise.”

Finally you let him embrace you, holding your shaking body against his chest while he rubbed your back soothingly.

When you calmed down enough to talk again you explained why you were so clearly triggered by him being in that state.

“I promise Doll if I go out with the boys again, I will stay at Steve’s and come home sober. I don’t ever want to be the cause of your pain, I know what it’s like to be sent back to a place you never want to visit.”

Carries you to bed, lovingly rubbing on your tense muscles until you gently fall asleep, the panic attack absolutely taking every ounce of energy you had left.

Never again would he hurt you, and he would be damned if he would let anyone else hurt you.

Wade Wilson-

Wade was incredibly used to just doing whatever the hell he wanted to do, not thinking through the consequences of his actions.

However he didn’t expect him getting drunk to be such a sore subject for you when he came home from the bar one night.

It wasn’t often that he drank to excess, but tonight he overdid it a little more than he intended.

Walking through the door he was singing at the top of his lungs waking you up as it was well past 3 AM at that point.

Coming out to see your boyfriend sloppily dancing with thin air, while he made his own music to dance to.

While this wasn’t unusual for him, you could tell there was something else off about the scene before you.

Catching his attention he rushed to your side kissing you all over your face, whiskey fresh on his breath overwhelming your senses as he breathed in your vicinity.

Instantly you felt sick to your stomach as you thought back to all the nights you took care of your sister when she came home drunk in college.

What started off as some minor partying turned into full blown alcoholism before you both graduated.

Thankfully she was in a much better state of mind now, but it was rough for a long time in your life.

Smelling that same cheap bourbon on his breath just sent you spiraling before you could even realize what had happened.

“I can’t do it again, please don’t make me do it again.”

Begging and pleading with him as you literally backed yourself up into the corner of the room unable to go anywhere else.

“What you talking about Sugar Tits? I’m happy to see you is all!”

Unable to understand why you were freaking out he started heading towards you again, his arms outstretched to give you a hug.

Only stopping when you held your hand out and screamed for him to stay where he was, tears streaming down your face now.

Yanking his mask off over his head he kneeled down next to you, gently touching your knee to get your attention.

“What’s wrong baby?”

Explaining through sobs about your sister and how she almost died from alcohol poisoning more times than you could count.

How you took care of her every single time she got out of the hospital, and your disappointment every time she went back to drinking.

Wade will reassure you that he in fact cannot die, but not only that but he promises that he will never come home drunk ever again.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if he has to change something about himself he never used to care about before.

Keeping you with him was his main goal, and he wasn’t going to throw it away over something he doesn’t need to do anyway.

Picking you up in his arms he is careful not to let you smell his breath as he takes you back to bed, making sure you are comfortable before going to shower.

Washing every part of his body twice he then dried off before laying down beside you spooning you from behind.

Tomorrow he would figure out how to make it up to you, until then he wanted you to know how loved you are, and how loved you would always be.

[Thank you so much for sharing your idea babe! I hope that I did it justice, and that it was what you were wanting!

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #bucky barnes x reader #wade wilson x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere wade wilson #yandere deadpool #killerprotector3579

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Broken Edges- Part 4

This is my version of fluff so enjoy it while it lasts! I wish I could apologize for the cliffhanger but it was so much fun to write...Who do you think is with our dear Y/N? 

Catch up HERE 

Steve Rogers x Reader 

Word Count: 1.8k 

Warnings: language, kidnap, flangst (if you squint)

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

“What the hell are you doin on the floor, pal?” Bucky’s voice sounded foggy as the message transmitted to Steve’s sensitive ears. He couldn’t hear anything above the high-pitched ring vibrating through his canals and taste the blood from biting the inside of his cheek. He was frozen, not in fear, but shame, humiliation, and unexplainable uncertainty. 

Steven Grant Rogers was officially the world’s biggest fuck up. Usually he could talk his way out of any troubling situation merely with his persuasive smile and easy-going personality, but Y/N destroyed him with her ingenuously quick tipped words. Steve kept thinking about the despondent look in her eyes before she abruptly slammed the door in his face. It was guaranteed to torment him not only during his waking hours but without question in the lingering night terrors yet to come.

Out of the blue, a large hand lingered upon his shoulder before the intruder cautiously shook him alerting him of the stranger’s very close proximity; “Steve, everything alright man?” It was Bucky. The only other person in this god forsaken building that probably didn’t want him flayed alive…at least not yet.

“Can I uh, ask why you are on the ground?”

Still stunned from his previous interaction with Y/N; he had no other choice but to man up to what he’d done. The words were like molting lava ready to escape a treacherous terrain but he reverted to simplistic quacking getting to the meat of the breakup. All confidence disappearing, Steve murmured;

“She dumped me.”

Steve felt Bucky’s grasp tighten against his right shoulder, giving him a hard pat for good measure before proceeding onward; “Well, she was pretty upset when I saw her this morning. That girl talks in code majority of the time so I didn’t really get the full story. I guess it didn’t end well based off the dumbfounded expression etched onto your face right now, hmm?”

Rapidly turning his head to meet another set of familiar baby blues, Steve no longer had control of what spewed from his lips at that very moment; “You don’t know shit, Bucky. I thought you were on my side.”

Exasperated, Bucky refuted back quicker than lightning; “Hey man, don’t take your frustrations out on me. I’ll always be on your side but I also have no freaking idea what really is going. So, please enlighten me to what the hell is exactly happening.”

Grunting, Steve no longer saw any point to hiding his demons. Sooner or later, the entire team would know how much of a dick he truly was. Might as well get ahead of the game.

“I slept with Nat. I made a colossal lapse in judgment and carelessly shattered Y/N. That’s what happened.”

Bucky backed away from his friend, unaware of how to process the information he was given. Thinking back to his earlier conversation with Y/N, Bucky finally started to connect the dots and align the context clues. The wheels in his mind rotated on full speed wondering just how Captain America found himself in such a predicament. He tapped his knee in hopes of getting the super soldier up and out of the hallway so they could continue this discussion in private. He definitely needed the gaps filled in for him even if he had to twist his best friend’s arm. Bucky was determined to get to the bottom of this.

                Y/N’s POV:

The cooling sensation of the door felt wonderful against Y/N’s tense back muscles. Her head clonked against the surface reminding her that she indeed had just kicked Steve Rogers out of her sight, and it felt fucking superb. She sauntered towards her bed faceplanting into an array of cush pillows aligning her headboard. Y/N wasn’t much for history but at that exact moment she felt like an amazon warrior; powerful and assertive. Throughout history, falling in love never got an easy reputation. Lives destroyed, homes ruined, families broken due to people’s selfish belief in the power of love. No one dared speak of its real consequences caged in the darkest corners of humanity. Awaiting the broken hearted like thorny vines on a rose bush; enticing from afar luring in its prey before singe-handedly attacking in the name of devoted adoration. That was certainly one way to lure the gullible and weak minded. 

She was neither, at least not anymore. Y/N rolled over gazing at her ceiling. For once the pressure in her chest dissipated, oxygen flowing into her airways. She was able to breath for the first time in months. She should’ve done this sooner. Y/N was now beginning to understand who her knight in shining armor truly was…the woman she had always been. Thinking back on Steve’s trepidation, Y/N spotted that her problem was she allowed herself to be wanted so badly, she couldn’t tell it wasn’t love at all. Initially noticing the beautiful wrapping paper that entailed her gift before understanding who really was layered within Steve Rogers.

Y/N didn’t let herself off the hook that easily. It takes two to tango when dancing with the devil and she eagerly obliged him. She settled for his pretentious impression of friendship permitting it to linger towards sex because she wanted him. Revenge was far too personal but vengeance, vengeance was cunning, detrimental, and brought a sickening grin to Y/N’s rosy lips. 

So long to the girl who was sweet and simple. Y/N refused to be what people tell her to be. That Y/N was long dead. But, before she could concoct her masterplan her brain swam mindlessly begging for sleep, her lids weighed heavily as Y/N found her eyes closing and her surroundings go black.

When Y/N awoke, her bones ached in a lethargic manner and she was in desperate demand of vodka; the perfect numbing agent.   Her limbs riddled from stress; she stretched, a loud yawn escaping its way out. It was then Y/N realized she wasn’t alone in her room. Impossible. After giving Steve the boot, she had made sure Jarvis had secured all locks and rejected all wandering guests. 

A calm red glow caught her attention in the corner of her room. Wanda. Though intrusive, Wanda’s company was pacifically soothing and exactly what Y/N yearned for.

Wanda watched intuitively staring in Y/N’s direction unwillingly to break the peaceful calm.

“Wanda, I’m not blind. I can clearly see you creeping in the corner.”

Wanda sassed back at rapid fire; “Oh my god, she speaks! Wow, for a second I thought you were dead.”  

A giggle passed Y/N’s lips, it felt refreshing to laugh; “I thought you read minds. Didn’t you get the memo I’m in mourning?”

Clearly amused, Wanda accepted Y/N’s bait; “Hmm, who died?”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip thinking twice before speaking; “The old Y/N. She’s dead and gone.”

“Interesting. And who is gracing my presence as we speak?”

“A badass bitch who no longer has a filter to deal with Captain America’s bullshit. That’s who.”

Instinctively, Wanda blushed unable to stop her powers from intruding upon Y/N’s thoughts.

“I’m sooo sorry, Y/N. I freaking slipped and please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to…”

Wanda neared her bed sitting at the corners edge, not to close but just enough. Knowing her darkest fruition finally felt quite liberating even if she hated to admit it. Of course, Y/N was irritated that Wanda unintentionally read her most secretive thoughts, she couldn’t fathom being mad at her friend for trying to help.

“I can’t believe him! Out of all people and Nat knew how you felt about him? I’m all about keeping the peace…but this is unacceptable.”

A breath whooshed through Y/N’s chest as she gathered herself; “You’re telling me…Steve almost said he loved me before I stopped him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. But honestly, I hated knowing he’d been inside of her…given her such an intimate part of himself. Please tell me I’m not crazy?”

Y/N hated bringing Wanda, the idealistic middle (wo)man into this brass situation, but the white elephant in the room needed to be addressed at some point or another.

“Я понимаю мою любовь.” (I understand my love)

“я чувствую себя таким разбитым” (I feel so broken)

“You don’t have to explain. I literally…. get it. I just want to punch him in that rightful nose of his. Jesus! That man is infuriating.”

“He wasn’t always that way. Trust me.”

“But you love hi—”

“No….: Shaking her head in vast disagreement. “No. No. No. Please don’t say that, please.”

“…if you insist Y/N. I’m on your side regardless but I’m also bipartisan if Stark asks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny the inevitable; “Thank you…. Thank you for being a friend, Wanda.”  

   ------

Y/N’s resounding feelings were more than Wanda could handle without alcohol’s boost of influence. So, she stupidly made her way towards Tony’s lounge promising Wanda they’d catch up later. Nothing better than a little peace and quiet Y/N prayed, banking on its abandoned state.

Upon entrance, Y/N’s mouth watered, her throat parched as she appreciated the overly stocked bar Stark was so keen on maintaining.  Vodka soda with extra lime was her main pick of poison. She reveled in the slow burn down into her lungs, she moaned with pleasure. 

This was exactly what the doctor ordered. Y/N started to worry about being left alone with her thoughts for too long would be a bad thing, or a more challenging way of figuring her shit out.

Of course, Tony chose the finest of leather couches who’s price she probably didn’t dare guess. Y/N fell right into its cushiony heaven trying to not spill her drink in the process. She brought the chilled glass to her lips before gulping the remainder of the iced beverage no longer in existence. With her heels kicked up and feelings at bay for the meantime, Y/N briefly closed her eyes welcoming the darkness.

An enigmatic voice came out of the corner like a ghost lingering in the shadows, startling Y/N.

“Y/N. So very nice to see you again.”

A voice morphed from her very own nightmares.

“Hail Hydra моя милая богиня” (my sweet girl).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover @marvelfansworld @sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch @bake-motherfucka-bake @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky @xstevenat

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #fanfic #my writing #broken edges #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader angst #avengers imagine #avengers #mcu

[thetriggeredhappy]

9 “My head hurts.” for Speedingbullet ~ also you're now my new fav fic author

thank you very much, you’re very sweet!! (warnings for me being mean to scout again)

9.) “My head hurts.”

Sniper really didn’t intend for things to go the way he did. He really didn’t mean any harm. Honest.

Before he joined the team, Sniper was aware of the concept of pranks and whatnot, sure, but he’d never really been subjected to any, or done them to other people. He didn’t go to college (a place where, allegedly according to Engie, pranks happen a lot) and he didn’t technically finish his last year of required schooling and even before that the closest thing to a “prank” that his classmates would do was essentially beat him up. Black eyes and bruises and bloody noses were their idea of a hilarious after-school activity to rope him into.

But on the base, he was introduced to actual pranks. The inside of Demo’s eyepatch being coated in syrup while he’s asleep, Soldier’s helmet being covered in dozens of sparkly stickers, plastic wrap over the door to the kitchen, things like that. Things that were actually a bit funny and not anything worse than annoying and inconvenient to the person being pranked.

At some point, Scout, main prank-maker of the team (years of experience under his belt, apparently) had tried to get Sniper. Salt in the sugar bowl. He’d sat down with coffee, the terrible “acquired taste” stuff that Spy occasionally drank because he mysteriously couldn’t find the normal stuff, and put a spoon’s worth into his mug to make it more bearable. Stirred it. He hadn’t noticed what Scout’s expression was until he lifted the mug to take a sip and made eye contact over the rim. Absolute interest in what Sniper was doing, just a smidge too much to be normal, and no focus at all on the bowl of cereal before him, which just wasn’t normal.

He took his sip, and it was only with that suspicion in the back of his head that he managed to keep from making a face at the taste of it. And then Sniper had a choice to make, and he did so quickly.

He drank the entire mug without flinching. Scout’s confusion rose with every bob of his adam’s apple.

“Something on my face?” Sniper asked neutrally when he put the empty mug down again, the very picture of normalcy.

“Uh,” Scout said, and shook himself from his shock, “I, uh, no. No, you’re good.”

A few beats passed, then Scout picked up the sugar bowl, glancing down at it. He hummed to himself, tipping a bit into his cereal, then putting it down and taking a bite.

He choked immediately, then looked up at Sniper, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “Oh, fuck you.”

That had been the beginning of a little prank war between the two of them.

Scout had done plenty of things. A glitter bomb from an envelope that looked just like the envelopes they received with information for contracts. Taken about half a dozen stray cats from the nearby town and put them all in Sniper’s camper while he was in the base doing laundry. Replaced all the cans of beans and soup that he had stocked up in case of emergencies big or small with cans of brussel sprouts. Given Engie twenty dollars to make a tiny little device that made a little beeping noise every two minutes and fifteen seconds, and promptly hidden it under Sniper’s mattress, driving him bonkers for a total of an hour and a half before he finally found it. It was worth noting that Sniper did lock his door, the little bugger just knew how to pick locks apparently.

Sniper’s major form of retribution for most of the pranks was to act either like it didn’t bother him or like he enjoyed what Scout did. He ended up cooking the brussel sprouts for dinner one day, and talked to Scout about how friendly all the cats were and what their names now were, and Scout was clearly extremely annoyed to see Sniper acting completely normal when he went to battle the day after the beeper incident. But for pranks like the glitter bomb, which left him in a sparkly uniform when he went to dinner, he did feel the need to deliver actual retribution.

Which is why he put an armadillo in Scout’s room. And a small non-venomous snake in Scout’s room after he then started locking his door. And the friendly owl that liked to pester Sniper for snacks in Scout’s room through the window when he asked Demo for help moving his door slightly closer to the floor. He just found that Scout tended to react a lot to animals and kept running with it.

Also he broke Scout’s door once, but to be fair that wasn’t part of a prank. That was a different thing. Which was only tangentially Sniper’s fault technically sort of. He apologized. He got a second glitter bomb.

And admittedly, their little prank war had died down a bit after that, mainly because they’d gotten on somewhat friendlier terms somehow during the mayhem. He wound up talking to Scout occasionally, the younger man just sitting himself down when Sniper was making a campfire or otherwise sitting outside his camper and doing things. In return, sometimes he tried to say hello to Scout when he passed him in the rec room. But then Sniper had suddenly been faced with what he thought was the perfect opportunity.

He’d been out doing his shopping, having headed to a bigger town to get some more specific things that he needed that weren’t easy to find elsewhere, when he’d seen it. The energy drinks Scout chugged like water most of the time, big palettes’ worth of them. Three different flavors, although he’d only ever seen Scout drinking two.

And next to them, the same three again. He walked closer, pondering if maybe Scout would appreciate getting a bulk package of the drinks instead of having to do a twice-weekly run to the store in town to buy a few six-packs. And he’d picked up one of the packs, looked it over, and noticed a little blurb written on it.

“Caffeine-free!”

The plan hit him almost immediately, and he moved to start piling cans into the cart he’d gotten.

From there it was simple—a trick he’d learned years and years before from an oddball “friend” to sneak alcohol into concerts. Sealed drinks being all that was allowed, he learned how to open cans and close them again without it looking any different. It was the work of an afternoon to empty out the cans of Bonk! into the sand (both the Cola and the Fruit Punch flavors just to cover all his bases) and replace them with the caffeine-free versions. Then he waited for the next time they did a supply run, and put it in with the rest of the groceries.

But then, things got… strange.

Scout was fine that first day, a Friday, not particularly groggy at all. During the lunch break in the middle of the day he chugged a good bit more of the soda than even he was usually known for, and didn’t eat anything else, but otherwise acted about the same.

By Monday, things had taken a significant dive.

He first noticed that Scout was almost late. That was extremely strange for him. Scout was usually among the first to report, and would mingle and pester the rest of the team. But instead, he was dashing in five minutes before they were headed onto the field, sleeves not even rolled properly and one shoe untied, looking completely out of it. He stammered an apology, then set about fixing his whole situation.

Through his scope, Sniper kept cursory track over the team so he’d be able to know whether someone could feasibly be passing by or if it was a spy. And what he saw of Scout was funny for a little bit, but quickly grew worrying, and then terribly guilt-inducing.

Scout was fully off his game, running erratically but in a way that was clearly unintentional, getting his attention diverted by sounds of gunfire only to miss the sounds much closer to him. His chatter on the comms was limited, and Sniper caught sight of him getting gunned down over and over and over again.

When the mid-day break was called, a bit earlier than usual, his first sighting of the kid since that morning was of him sitting on a crate, elbows on his knees, head held tight in his hands, talking quietly to Medic, who looked extremely concerned about the situation. Within a few moments the scene had brought over Engie and Demo, and everyone looked fairly grim.

Spy noted the scene happening, then glanced at Sniper, and his posture went rigid at Sniper’s expression. Presumably it was one of guilt, because that’s what was rapidly overtaking Sniper.

“What did you do?” Spy asked sharply, voice a hiss.

“Nothing,” Sniper said quickly, defensively.

All at once, Spy was stood just behind him, a hand on his shoulder, the other holding a knife in the bend of his back, cutting through the stitch of his vest and pressing hard enough to make Sniper’s heart skip a few beats. “Interesting answer. Because our local little idiot has been feeling horribly, terribly under the weather all day, and this is rapidly becoming the sort of problem that gets him in trouble with noteworthy individuals,” he said, voice the kind of lighthearted that made Sniper aware that he was probably about to be killed if he so much as stuttered. Then the weight of what Spy was saying to him sunk in, and he paled in realization. Scout could get in very real trouble for such a drop in numbers. Very, very real trouble. And in their line of business, bad things usually happened to those who got in trouble with their employers. “I just found it interesting, the way you were staring at him just now.”

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he managed, voice hoarse. “Really, I didn’t!”

“I’m going to ask you this exactly once, bushman,” Spy said, voice low now. “What. Did. You. Poison him with?”

A pause. “Oh! No, no, mate, you’ve got it wrong, I—I didn’t poison him! I just—“

The slightest bit of additional pressure from the knife.

“Really! I just switched out that caffeine nonsense he drinks for the same stuff but without the caffeine. It was just supposed to be a prank, I, I didn’t think he would get like this. Figured he’d be a bit groggy and that’s all!”

Spy swore to himself under his breath. “You’re an idiot, bushman,” he hissed. He shoved Sniper a step forward. “Go explain to him what you did. Now.”

Sniper did walk over.

Medic had moved away to talk quietly with Demo, but Engie was still there, sitting next to Scout, a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up as Sniper approached, giving him a little, worried smile.

“Er,” Sniper said, fidgeting with his hands for a second before just sticking his thumbs into his pockets. “Scout, can I talk to you for a mo’?”

Scout hummed out a little noise like agreement.

Sniper glanced at Engie again, who took a moment before he realized what Sniper meant and went to get up and give them space. He gave Scout one more pat on the shoulder before he went.

Sniper took his place, hands to himself. “Er. So… you’re not doin’ so well,” Sniper tried.

Scout groaned, shoulders sinking further. “I dunno what the fuck is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m fuckin’ dying over here.”

“Yeah?” Sniper asked, guilt corroding at him quicker by the minute.

“My head hurts,” Scout started. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up. My hands won’t stop shaking and I can barely reload a gun. I didn’t sleep at all last night or the night before that or the night before that and I can’t get a good breath in and I feel like I’m five fuckin’ seconds away from freaking out. Just the usual gunshots and screaming make me start shaking even worse and basically I fuckin’ hate everything right now an’ wanna die. I felt like shit all weekend too but it’s just getting worse and worse.”

Sniper swallowed hard.

“And I dunno what the fuck the issue is, I—I only ever start gettin’ shaky and gross feeling whenever I go without getting caffeine for a few days, and, and I’ve drank like three cans and kept ‘em down and everything and I—I dunno the fuck else to do,” Scout said, and there was an underlying kind of distress, dismay, panic, misery that made Sniper fold in on himself.

“Didn’t realize… you needed it that much,” Sniper said carefully.

Scout sighed, his breath leaving him almost explosively. “Yeah, because I didn’t want nobody to know. Only the Doc was supposed to know, because we kept tryin’ all kinds of meds but none of ‘em worked right, and we figured out if I just drink a fuck ton of caffeine it works better than most meds. So he found some stuff with a ridiculous amount of the stuff and now I drink it all the time or I can’t think right or do anything.” A second sigh, and Scout looked like he was trying to melt and sink into the ground. “And now everybody knows that I’m a fuckin’ idiot who can’t do shit or think right without drinkin’ enough liquid energy to give a bear a heart attack. And I’m maybe having the worst day ever and I just wanna go curl up and down half a bottle of headache meds and try and sleep until everything stops sucking so much.”

Sniper was pretty sure he was going to keel over dead.

“But hey,” Scout said, a dreary, sarcastic attempt at optimism in his voice, and lifted his head enough to look at Sniper, and he hadn’t noticed earlier, but his face was pale and his eyes had bags and circles under them that may as well have been bruises they were so dark. “At least you’re over here. Talkin’ to me. That’s really not like you. Good to know you give that much of a shit about me to come listen to me whine.”

Sniper had to look away, squeeze his eyes shut.

“Anyways, you said you wanted to talk to me?” Scout asked, putting on a terribly brave face despite how objectively horrible he was feeling.

“It was me.”

A pause. Sniper couldn’t look up. “What?”

“It was me. I switched your Bonk! out for some caffeine-free rubbish.”

Another, different pause. “You what?” Scout asked, voice quiet.

“It was meant to just be a prank,” Sniper said, head falling to his hand. “I thought you’d get all drowsy for a little while, be sleepy and a bit off your game and confused. I didn’t mean to make you feel this sick, and… and I’m sorry.”

Silence for a good minute or so. “Snipes, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Sniper nodded. “I’d deserve it,” he conceded, glum.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sniper got shoved, and was sent sprawling on the dirt. “You fuck! I can’t believe you!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sniper tried, sitting up.

“God damn it if you weren’t so cute I’d break you right now!” Scout exclaimed, bat in hand, red-faced and positively fuming.

“You think I’m cute?” Sniper asked, a bit surprised.

“Not the topic of conversation right now! You’re a bastard!”

Sniper fell back onto the dirt, staring up at the sky. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You owe me,” Scout declared.

“I know.”

“Big time,” Scout added.

“I know.”

“You’re takin’ me out after we clock out today and you’re buying me more soda and then you’re getting me dinner,” Scout finished.

“That sounds fair.’

“…Fuck you,” Scout said once more before he stormed off.

Sniper remained on the ground for another few moments, silent.

“…Cute?” he repeated to himself quietly.

#speeding bullet #sniperscout #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #my writing #as a person with adhd this is genuinely a thing that can happen if your meds get fucked up especially if youre on Strong Ones

[stories-forthe-void]

Protect You ~ Lee Felix

genre: fluff, fantasy au, prince!Felix

pairings: Felix x reader

warnings: daddy issues? idk pretty angsty stuff

word count:2 820

a/n: yat Felix times. I am extremely sorry for the ending and just this fic in general

AO3

Every girl across all three kingdoms wanted to be you. You were Princess Y/N, the daughter of the King of Vlandéré. But along with that title came another. Not only were you The Princess of Vlandéré, but you were also engaged, since birth, to the next king of the neighbouring kingdom, Endover. You were fine with having an arranged marriage and all that, it was for your kingdom and you’d do anything to stop another war between the three kingdoms. So you’d be completely fine with this whole situation if the prince wasn’t a lazy ass who didn’t care about anything and spent all day taking stupid dares from a band of eight other lazy asses who followed him around like a puppy and hooking up with any species he can find willing to smash faces with him (which is pretty much everyone because he is so godamn good looking. Damn the Endovians and their good genes).

So here you are today sitting across from him at a banquet, to celebrate the three kingdoms independence from each other, while he clearly stares at one of the kitchen staff’s butt.

“Do you really have to flirt with every girl you meet” You kind of mumbled it not expecting an answer so you were quite surprised when he replied with:

“Why yes, yes I do” This is the one, this is the cockiest man, no, BOY in all the three kingdoms. Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever find him.

Four hours later and the banquet was over, and luckily it ended when it did otherwise the second War of the Three Kingdoms might have been fought over Felix’s dead body.

“Father I cannot! You cannot expect me to marry that, that, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE IS BUT HE IS NOT HUSBAND MATERIAL FATHER!” You had stormed into your father’s throne room that morning without announcing yourself oh how rebellious you are Y/N.

“Y/N calm down, Princesses do not shout at 9 o’clock in the morning.” You let out a very loud mph. “Y/N come here and sit” He patted what would be your mother’s throne if she hadn’t died tragically when you were five oh woe is you if she hadn’t drunk way to much wine last night and was passed out in her chambers. You sat down. Begrudgingly. “I know you don’t like him and that he can be a bit much sometimes, but he’s only nineteen and he’ll grow out of it. His mother and father are both fantastic rulers-“ That was very debatable considering his father had tried to kill on nearly every single one of his birthdays because he probably wasn’t even his father's own son (no human’s ears are that pointy) because his mother hated his father so much. “And when he realizes that he’s had the most beautiful, intelligent and charismatic girl he’s ever met standing right in front of him, I’m sure he’ll come through. You have to endure this, For the sake of me and Vlandéré.”

After six months of Felix attending banquets with you and flirting with servants, he finally seemed to grow up a bit and had an actual intellectual conversation with you about the growing tensions between the Three Kingdoms and how this alliance needed to be secured fast. But something was off. He kept stealing quick glances at his father, he almost looked sad? No, not sad, something else that you couldn’t quite make out.

At the end of the night, he did something even weirder. He asked you to go for a walk around the palace gardens with him. Today had been one of the only times the banquet had been in Endover and you’d be staying the night, so there was no way you could wheedle your way out of this one.

 The Endover palace gardens were gorgeous, comet orchids, buttercups, heather, nasturtium, oak and plum trees, someone clearly knew their plant symbolism. The more you learnt about King Eustis the more you learnt of how much of a narcissist he was. I mean the guy was showing off with flowers.

How ironic, foxglove represents insecurity. Don’t forget to check your gardeners Eustis

To anyone else, you two would look like the perfect couple. Walking over moonlit bridges, under vine-covered arches, albeit in complete silence so…but after the thirty-minute mark you knew he had to be either hiding from someone, something or just stalling. You may have hated him, but no one should have to bottle things up. You stopped him when you came to a bench in front of the lake which was again named after his father.

“What, why are we stopping?” Felix looked at you like a lost puppy.

“Because Felix, I’m not an idiot. I know somethings up.”

“Whaaaaaaat why would you think that” He’s not even trying to hide it at this point

“Felix come one, a) you talked about POLITICS all night b) you did not flirt with one girl tonight c) you were looking at your dad all weird all night.” he had been looking at the ground until you said the last one, his head shot up and immediately said

“You tell no one, no one Y/N” His eyes filled with worry.

“OK, OK I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. But why are you so worked up about it, it must have been something, I’ve never seen you look humble before tonight, you looked sad or angry I don't know” he just looked at the floor again. You put one hand on his shoulder and the other you used to make him face you. “Felix, listen I may not like you but if I’m going to marry you then I don’t need your emotional baggage weighing us down when we have kingdoms to rule. So, for the last time. What. Is. Going. On.”

“It’s, I’m, ugh just sit down please this might take a while. So you’ve obviously heard the rumours about me and my mother right?”

“The ones about you being illegitimate? S-sorry that sounds mean” It was true though, the rumours were growing louder as he grew up and looked less and less like his father.

“No, it’s fine because they’re true. My mother had an affair with an elf and then had me.”

“And the ones about what your father has tried to do to you?” You had always assumed it was castle gossip, just servants getting restless and spreading lies. Even if he wasn’t his father's son, no one would try to kill someone who was basically family and his only heir. He didn’t say anything for a while and then said:

“Yes, but only partly true, he’s only tried to kill me twice when I was a baby,” You thought you saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes but it was hard to tell in the dark. “But he’s tried three times in the past week, a rogue arrow during the trainee check-up, a random assassin who would have killed me if I hadn’t been walking in the gardens and not in my room like I always am, he even sent someone off to the mines to get some weird crystal that would supposedly give me a disease, thank Magnum I had told Changbin and Seungmin about all the previous attempts so they pretended they hadn’t found any in the past few weeks. I’ve been worried he’d try to poison me tonight so he could play it off as Vlandéré pulling something to end the alliance. That’s why I kept looking at him. I was scared Y/N. I’ve lived my whole life since I could walk, not caring about a thing, hooking up with whoever was available, sniffing whatever weird new crystal Changbin could get me. Anything I could do to show my father he didn’t own me. I was never scared. And now, not even my mother cares about what he’s trying to pull. I just feel so helpless.”

You didn’t know what to do. You had had no idea how much stuff was going on behind that cocky smile of his. He just stared at you failing miserably at trying to conceal the fact that he was crying.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that, you’re so stupid Fe-euah” You pulled him into a hug, it was the only thing you could think of to stop him from degrading himself further than he probably did when the world wasn’t watching his every move.

You buried your face in his neck. “I’m sorry. For everything, I shouldn’t have judged you so quickly.” It came out sort of mumbled but you knew he had heard it when he slowly wrapped his arms around you.

And so the two of sat there. On the bench. Moon shining on the lake and Felix crying into your shoulder. It was weird; it was as if something had clicked between the two of you that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. At that moment you thought I have to protect him, I cannot let this boy die. No matter what happens he has to be safe.

 You two must have sat there for at least half an hour. Felix had stopped crying after about ten minutes but you could tell he was still pretty shaken up so you just let him stay the way he was.

“Felix we’ve been out here for a while, I know your parents won’t be fazed but I do need to make sure my mother isn’t passed out.” stupid alcohol useless women. Can’t even keep her self-controlled when we’re in a different kingdom. Typical.

“No wait, Y/N, please don’t go home tonight. I can convince your father. I’m sure he’d be ecstatic at the prospect of us getting finally warming up to each other.” He grabbed your hand the minute you had stood up and was determined not to let go. For the love of Magnum, he’s going to cut off my blood flow.

“Felix calm yourself, I’m staying the night anyway.” You smiled at him. You smiled at him. This boy is going to be the end of me, isn’t he?

“Oh! Okay. Um… c-can you um canyoupleasestayinmyoom”

“Felix speak words please not dwarfish.” You pulled him up and started to try and get him to walk. He may have spilt his heart to you and you were very grateful but your father wouldn’t be so grateful finding a makeup smudged daughter and tear-stained cheeked future husband walking through the doors an hour and a half after curfew.

You made back to the castle after a long walk filled with the most oddly comforting silence you had ever experienced.

“Y/N, Felix! Where in the Deity’s name have you been for the past three hours?!” Your father looked furious. Eustis…not so much. He was probably just mad that he had to stay up for an extra hour.

“I’m sorry father, please it was all my idea, and Felix had nothing to do with it. I swear.” Felix looked so surprised you thought his eyes might pop out of his head.

“Do this again Y/N and you can consider yourself confined to the castle for a month! Now go to bed, both of you!” You had never seen your father so mad before. You stared at Felix until he got the hint that you had no idea where to go, so he just ended up pulling him along with you.

“Um, Felix, where are we going exactly are we going?” He’d gone back to typical Felix winking at one of your mother’s ladies in waiting. What the hell is going on in this castle?

“Shut up and walk quicker else someone will spot us and then we’re both dead.” He sounded angry. Can he make up his mind already! I’m not just his emotional play toy.

You arrived at what you assumed was his room. He pulled you into his room and slammed you against the wall kissing you passionately slammed the door and slide down it at a painfully slow rate. Burying his face in his hands and then in his knees he mumbled:

“I’m never going to be free of him am I,” He started shaking again. “He’s going to keep trying until he kills me or all my friends first.” You ran over to him and hugged his shaking form.

“Shh, he isn’t going to get you, nor Changbin, nor Woojin, nor Jeongin, none of them.” He stared up at your face.

“And how do you know that Y/N you’ve known me for six months and I’ve already managed to make an enemy out of you. If I can’t protect myself how am I meant to protect my people or my family!’ He tried to push you off of him but his heart wasn’t in it and you managed to keep hold of him.

“Felix, where is this coming from? You were fine literally an hour ago, we were fine.”

“Y/N, do you not see, he didn’t want us to come back. He thought he had gotten away with not even having to try to kill me, he just had to leave us out there for long enough and for sure a night elf could’ve done us in.”

“Okay no, this is not a conversation we are having again. Felix look at me! I told you he’s not going to touch you or your friends or me. Do you want to know how I know that? Because I will protect you. I will use every guard and wizard and elf in Vlandere and they will stand outside your door. Then we will get married and you will be crowned king and your father will be banished to the deepest part of mount Zendita and we will never have to see him again. Do you understand me.” You stared him down. Tears staining his cheeks for the second time that night.

“I understand”

“Ok? Good, now you are going to get in that bed and sleep, OK Mr. Future King.” He gave you a weak smile.

You went to change into more comfortable clothes as you guessed it was going to be a long night. When you got back to Felix’s room (you later realised that you didn’t knock, which could have led to disaster) he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. It was the first time you had ever seen him not wearing a suit. He was even more gorgeous like this, just staring out the massive window. He looked so at peace yet unsettled, like his mask was slipping off the harder he tried to tie it on.

“Felix?” You spoke softly, not wanting to scare him.

“Oh, you’re back!” He jumped up and walked towards you.

“So mister,” You poked his nose. Ew no, Y/N don’t do that again, this is so not a Nikki Fire book. “What were you trying to tell me earlier?”

“Oh, um, um, ehhh,” Que suspicious eyebrow raises, “pleasestaywithmetonight” Ok I knew he was part elf I just didn’t know he could speak Elvish.

“Felix I need words, not Elvish please.”

“Oh my Magnum Y/N you make this impossible. Please stay with me tonight?” He almost whispered the last part but you caught it.

“Felix, I don’t think I have another room to be completely honest.” You laughed. He laughed. He really does have the stars in his eyes huh? When Felix laughed his eyes turned into the cutest little crescent moons you’d ever seen.

“So you won’t leave?” Ok if I’m gonna marry him he’s going to have to learn to not make me repeat my promises fifteen times

“Felix, what did I say? I said I’d protect you, and we Vlanderians never break a promise right?”

“Right”

The night consisted of awkwardly climbing into Felix’s bed. Talking for a while. Nearly falling asleep. Felix panicking and shaking you awake. More talking and finally trying to sleep.

“Y/N?” The had been silent for a few minutes

“Mm.” Tired, so tired

“Um, would it be weird if I asked you to hug me?” there it was again, that nervousness, the fast-talking, it was like he turned into a totally different person around you.

“Felix, we’re getting married. You’re allowed to ask me for anything.” You let out a soft chuckle

“Ok, well can I have a hug.” You didn’t even answer him, just wrapped your arms around him and stayed spooning. You thought he was asleep until you heard a soft mumble:

“Please never go” He placed a soft kiss to your hand.

“Never would have dreamed of it. I’ve got to protect you” It was the last thing you heard before you felt a hand cover your mouth and felt Felix being pulled away from you in the dark.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #skz scenarios #skz imagines #lee felix scenario #lee felix #felix fic #felix fluff #felix au #my fics #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst