#its about how he is terrified to lose her as he lost her once before and how he lost his father | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luxaofhesperides · 2 months

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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

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lolita-lollipop · 10 months

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Platonic yandere Miguel? You're an alt universe version of his daughter that he's taken in (aka kidnapped) so that he'll never lose her again, poor traumatized sod just wants a family again

Spiderweb

YANDERE MIGUEL O’HARA X READER

Preview:

When anomalies begin to enter universe 20477, Miguel is assigned to tracking them down. He wasn’t expecting to see himself, with a girl like you, scared and wide eyed on his arm. You were his, you just had to be.

(Platonic)

He knew what you would be to him.

He knew who you were.

He knew he had to protect you.

He knew he wouldnt let you go.

He couldn't.

It was purely coincidental, seeing you, that is. He just happened to be in your plane of existence that day, chasing down an anomaly that was jumping from universe to universe every other day. None of the others were able to catch him, a fast fujjer he was. So Miguel was a last resort, the only one capable enough to catch the guy. There was a chase down the streets of whatever universe he was in, then a catastrophic fight near the center of the city.

This place was so similar to his own universe, The same skies, the same cities, the same feeling, the same sadness as his own realm. He wanted to get in and get out, that's all. In fact, he was moments- seconds even- seconds away from catching the anomaly, seconds away from leaving this sad awful reminder of what happened to him. And then he saw you and his world stopped in its tracks.

You were teary-eyed, crying like a little baby. A few pieces of concrete that had been knocked up from the ground during the fight had cut your cheek, leaving a small dribble of blood streaming down your face. There was such a fear laced in your eyes, such a terror that flooded your expression. But that wasn't what shocked him about you, as his eyes panned from you to the man you had your arms wrapped around, his face fell completely.

You were clutching onto him. HIM. Miguel o’hara. You had your arms wrapped around his, clutched tight in fear, the two of you were trapped against the side of a building with rubble that had eroded. He was him, you were holding onto him, you had to be his daughter, and the way you were looking to him for protection was enough to show the parental status he had.

He had a daughter again.

You were his daughter.

He stared at the sight of the two of you for a moment, sending a harsh glare to his copy, his fake. Whoever you were clinging to, whoever you were wrapped around, he couldn't protect you. Miguel wanted nothing more than to pull you up and take you with him, take you home. But he couldn't, he had to play this carefully. He's lost a daughter before, he wouldnt do this again.

Like a flash, the tall man dressed in a black and red suit disappeared completely, along with the anomaly. Leaving the Town square In rubble. You blinked, just once, and when you opened your eyes once more, you had been pulled out from the bone-crushing concrete and were laid across the grass. It was too fast for you to see the man who had done it, to see the way his hands lingered at your waist, to see how he swiped the blood off of your face, to see how he looked at you. Of course, you hadn't. Maybe if you had, you could've avoided this.

---

You were shaken, to say the least. Things like this, like supervillains flying through the air and shattering buildings and corroding concrete, throwing people around like frisbees. Things like this just didn't happen, not ever. So to be trapped like that, stuck in rubble covered in blood as you had to watch the scene unfold… You were terrified. Even more so when your father had been hurt.

It was fast for the two of you to get away from the scene, especially since whatever was happening screeched to a halt, and the two figures disappeared, leaving the police, and you, completely confused. You just couldn't understand what the fudd happened, how could two people just disappear? Why did this happen all of a sudden? Why did that man- Why did he look so familiar?

It was supposed to be a fun little outing between you and your dad, a walk in the park to go get some food and have a picnic, but before you knew it you were shoved against a wall with glass and rock stuck in your face, your dad holding you close To shield you from the chaos around. You had been squeezing your eyes shut tight enough that they itched and ached now.

You were in too much shock to be able to give the cops any valuable information they would even remotely need, too focused on the fact Things like this didn't happen here, they just didn't. You cried on the way home, holding your (now bandaged) dad tight as you could. He hushed you, comforting you to the best of his ability. But you were both tired, too tired to care about taking your dirty clothes off or going to actual bed.

You slept on the couch, on your dad that night.

But when you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

It wasn't too strange for him, working as a doctor he was often called in early mornings to late nights, too early for you to be up when he left. But still, something felt off about it this time, usually he would wake you up for a few moments to say goodbye and give you a kiss. There was none of that today, just you, left under a blanket lying down on the couch, cold and alone and still scared straight.

The house felt different, dead. Like something was weighing heavy in the air, dragging all the air down and making it suffocatingly tight in the room. You wanted to get out, to go outside and go on a walk or something. But yesterday… with what happened. The feeling of dread sat in the back of your head, forcing you not to step out of your apartment, too scared to leave but too bored to stay.

You sat on the couch all day basically, watching reruns of old sitcoms. You knew your dad wouldn't be mad that you didn't want to go to school today, most of the time he came home too tired to do more than eat and sleep so you doubt he would even notice.

The sound of the door opening, along with uncharacteristically light footsteps Alerted you that your dad was home again, you sat up, pushing the blanket off of your shoulders and sitting up on the edge of the couch to look at him. At the sight of him, your head fell into a tilt, he looked… not bad, but different. A little bit more tired looking, his wrinkles were far more set into his face, and his was shorter, and far less groomed than it usually was.

“Hola Papa. Did you cut your hair or something? It looks different.” You narrowed your eyes at him with a small smile. He nodded, staring at you with some foreign look in his eyes. Setting down the few grocery bags he held in his hands.

You blinked, and within a moment he was on top of you, embracing you in a tight hug. You were immediately lifted off of the ground with a slight squeal, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you tight, breathing in your smell. How odd. Your dad isn't like this. Not very touchy, he never showed too much affection. The hug lasted for what felt like hours of you in his arms, held tightly.

You came realization only a few seconds in that you liked it, this is what you needed, and it felt nice. All the dread from your system completely drained out as his arms got tighter and tighter, and tighter. Since when has your dad been so muscular? Last you can remember, he was softer, not as rough. Strange, isn't it?

“Mija. I missed you so much baby, so much.” he breathed in the smell of your hair again, pulling you higher up onto his chest. His words should've sent off red flags in your head, you had just seen him hours ago right? You stayed quiet, choosing to relish in the moment of comfort this gave you. His voice was scratchy and rough, like he'd been screaming.

“Me too. I didn't go to school today, too scared.” Your voice was muffled against his chest, but you could feel his heartbeat with every breath he took. At your words his arms tightened slightly, and you squished your face further onto his neck. He was like a human furnace, radiating heat in your too-cold apartment.

“Oh baby- I’m here now. I’ll protect you, you won't ever have to be scared ever again.” With that, he brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, and his lips met your forehead in a warm kiss. If you maybe hadn't been so wrapped up in the fact that this felt so warm, so nice, you would've noticed the look he held in his eye. How deranged he looked, how terrifying he was. Maybe you would've paid more attention to all the little things that weren't adding up about him.

“Mi ninita. I’m so glad you're okay, I will never leave you again.” The two of you shared a glance, and that heavy feeling of dread pooled back into your system. There was something else in his eyes, something terrifying. Maybe you were just tired, or maybe you had head trauma from yesterday.

Moments passed as you enjoyed the warm hug, before he began to move, still keeping you in his arms, but walking elsewhere, you muttered a small “Hm?” squirming slightly in attempts to get yourself back on your own two feet, but he just shook his head at you, and squeezed.

“I got dinner while I was out, empanadas. I figured we could eat in my bed and watch a movie, You'll sleep with me tonight” He took note of your confused face, then went on to continue “ I don't want you alone anytime soon, especially not with all that's happening in the neighborhood. You don't want to get hurt, right? “

You just shook your head, letting yourself relax in his grip. Truly when had he become so strong, or on a different note, as affectionate? Usually, your dad was exhausted, he loved you, yeah, you knew that, but coming home from a 12-hour hospital shift at an understaffed medical center drained him. He usually didn't have time, and when he did he really didnt know how to spend it.

You slept better than you ever have in your entire life that night, close to your dad in his bed, cuddled under a warm blanket with your father's arms relentlessly wrapped tight around you, caging you in… you didnt hate it.

…

The next few weeks were different, strange, and not like you were used to. Everything changed. At first, it was just the little things, the things you would usually glide over. Miguel would come home early, leave later, and bring you food and clothes and stuff you were never able to afford.

Kids at your school started avoiding you, even though you never did anything to make you avoidable. It was weird for you, to see such a sudden shift in your life. The weirdest part about it though, is you had no idea what changed.

Not long after though, it got worse. Your dad would look through your phone, something he never cared about before, he always excused it with the same “I'm just looking out for you mija”, but it felt like a lie. Eventually, your contacts list shifted and changed to your dad.. And your dad. If you got any texts or calls he would look at them before you could, and decline them.

You stopped going out of the house as much, he excused you from school, telling you that you needed a break after all the trauma you've been through in the past few weeks. And without school or friends, you didnt have any reason to go out unless it was for mail or groceries. Even then, sometimes your dad would walk with you or just go himself instead. Eventually it got to the point that you weren't allowed to go out, not by your own choice anymore..

And Miguel, he would tell you things about what was going on outside. How all of a sudden there were villains on every corner, people were dying every day, crime was high. It scared you, and he clearly knew that, he used it to keep you inside, to keep you from going out.

It just got to the point where you did nothing, absolutely nothing. And you were tired of it. You wanted to go out, live your life and see people and see things, have fun with friends, do stupid teenager things. Things you should've already been doing. But he wouldnt let you, he made you stay inside, held you tight so you wouldnt leave.

And with the realization that this man was controlling you, your rose-colored glasses flew off of your face entirely. Your father wasn't like this, he barely cared enough to ask how your day was. Let alone keep you caged in your own home every day. Something was very very wrong. And just like that, it all snapped into place.

This isn't your dad. The way he acted, the way he walked, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, the way he controlled you, the way he comforted you when you were upset. There was not one thing about this man that made sense, not one similarity. Whoever this was, it wasn't your miguel ohara, it was a fake. A phony.

“Mija? Are you feeling sick? Whats wrong” He stared at you, letting his brows cluster together in worry. He had you sitting on the counter as he cooked, wearing one of your dads white t-shirts, it clung to his back muscles, showcasing the spider tattoo on the back of his neck. Your dad thought tattoos were trashy and unprofessional, and your dad most certainly did not have muscles like that. How had you been so daft as to miss that?

You stared, narrowing your eyes at the man who was wearing your dads clothing, your dads skin.

“Y/n?” he turned, placing the knife down on the counter, and grabbing your shoulders. The stranger stood in front of you, bending over to have his face at your level. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head. The position brought you back to your senses, and reminded you that this man, whoever he was, was extremely stronger than you were, and could overpower you without even thinking about it.

You snapped up. “Oh! Sorry. Just thinking.” you spoke with a shaky voice, grabbing his large hands with your own and straightening up from your slouched position on the counter. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand, his big hand. He was too big for you, you couldnt get away if he didn't want you to, you would have to be sneaky.

“What has you so deep in thought? Is my ninita daydreaming again?” a grin broke out on his face, showing his pearly canines. You returned the smile with a shaky breath. What were you supposed to do now? He hadn't made any move to hurt you yet, but he certainly could if he wanted to. You sent a glance towards the TV, where the local news was playing, the man left a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before turning around and picking his knife back up.

Your entire body went frigid at the sight of the tv, you inhaled a small gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth.

“The body of 31-year-old Miguel O’hara has been found, a resident doctor at the local medical center, any information about the whereabouts of this man’s disappearance should be reported to the authorities. Local police are currently investigating possible causes of death, and are contacting family and loved ones right now. This is Miles Morales with the six O-clock news, stay safe out there.”

Your hands shook violently as a photo of the scene splayed across the screen, it was a bloody mess, an utter monstrosity of a crime scene. The body was blurred completely, probably too gruesome to show on public access news, but you knew it was him, he had those old white shoes from the hospital on, the ones that he wore even though they were battered and covered in holes. And his wedding ring, the one with the tiny stone embedded at the edge of it. That was your dad, that was your fudding dad and he was dead. Mutilated and shown on the news.

You involuntarily let out a whimper at the sight, the hand you had on your face squeezed and shook, trying to keep your composure, keep yourself from sobbing and blowing your cover. You failed miserably, as tears clouded your vision and fell on the countertop. Your irregular breathing and whimpers brought the attention of the man in your kitchen wearing your father's skin, your dead father's skin.

“Ai dios mio- Mija what's wrong? Are you hurt?” immediately the man was on top of you, with his hands running up and down your arms, checking for any possible injuries. He was using that fake worried tone he always did, the one you would usually fall for. The rage that consumed you blurred your vision, that along with the cloudy tears. You smacked his hands off of you, pushing yourself back further onto the countertop. You stared with wide eyes.

“Who the fudd are you? “ You asked, staring at him with those teary eyes of yours, there was a pure hatred laced throughout your expression, his eyes flicked from you with shock as he muttered a small “language”, they then panned to the tv behind. His face slipped from confusion to dread, his eyes went wide and his brows unfurrowed and dropped. His shoulders went completely slack, and he just stood there, waiting for you to make your next move.

“Mija- just listen to me before you do anything stupid- I know it's scary but you need to listen to me for a second” he rushed out, his sweet voice now dripping with fear, why was he scared of all things? He was the one with the advantage. You squirmed back, hopping off the other side of the counter, you continued to back away, eyes staying just as wide.

“You didn't answer my fudding question. Who- Who are you.” He made no move to get closer, only staring at you, so you continued “ Did you- did you kill my dad? My real dad?” The way he tilted his head with those soft eyes of his answered your question enough. Your hands kept shaking, your head kept pulsing with fear, and finally… you let out a piercing scream. One the neighbors were sure to hear.

But in the blink of an eye, he was on top of you.

“Please- please mija. I am your father- your papa. Please, You don't have to be scared of me, I love you- I'll never hurt you.” His hand pressed against your mouth, leaving a white film that held your it completely shut. Your screams were muffled now, but still audible. He had you on the floor, on top of you, his hands pinning you down with his entire strength. You thrashed and looked around for anybody to help, but the more you moved the tighter his hands got. You were shaking, whimpering like a kicked cat.

“I promise you- Prometo mi ninita- I just wanted to protect you, I will never EVER lay harm to you. “ He was deranged, quickly rushing out the words in a panic. You had never seen him so fearful, so desperate, both your father and him. You stopped thrashing, Instead choosing to stare up at him. He was so… scary, now that he wasn't being sweet, now that he was forcing you onto the floor, holding you down. The look in his eyes was terrifying.

All of a sudden it was like you realized the position you were in, he could kill you right now, this imposter could crush your head in his hands and leave like nothing happened, he was going to hurt you. Kill you. Like he did your father. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god. You were frozen, your hands began to quiver harshly, and tears streamed down your cheeks freely, panic flushed through your veins, overtaking that rage that you previously, pure fear rushed over you entirely. And you couldnt control your body anymore.

You couldnt breathe, or think. Or feel your body, you were overtaken with a fuzzy terrified feeling, your entire body quivered as you stared at him. The film over your mouth certainly wasnt helping, you tried to inhale, but you couldnt, as your vision blurred further. You couldnt feel anything. You hadnt realized you were digging your nails into your skin until there was blood dripping out of your wrists.

“Baby- you need to calm down. Your hurting yourself, you don't have to be scared, I’m not going ot hurt you. Just breathe- Tienes que respirar mija- por favor” The usually completely stoic miguel ohara, the leader of the spiderverse protection program was panicking, more so than he ever had in the past. You were having a panic attack, a bad one, that much was obvious, he had never delt with this before. You kept shaking, his words doing nothing. So he brought his arms around you, hoisting you up to his chest once more. Now it wasnt comforting, now it made you more fearful.

“Shh- I’m here. It's okay- I’m going to calm you down, don't be scared - Youll be okay.” He hushed, before bringing his head to your neck, it left you completely speechless and shocked, before he brought his lips to the nape, and bit down firmly. The tips of his canines dipped in, and the tiniest bit of his venom flushed into your veins.

You were only able to let a small scream out, before the venom overtook your senses. And your quivering figure went slack in his arms. He held you tight, lifting you off the ground entirely and clutching you. He wouldnt let you hurt yourself, he wouldnt let anybody hurt you, he couldnt. He ruined his chances before, He couldnt do it again. Even if you were scared, he would help.

“Lyla?” he spoke to the watch resting around his rist, setting you on his hip in the process. A small “yes sir?” rang out from the device, before he continued “Lets go home, I expect the office is ready for her.” His voice was harsh now, commanding like it should be.

“Yes sir. A-are you sure this is a good idea? She clearly wont be able to handle something like-”

“I’ll take care of it. Just do your job.

Were coming home. finally.”

———————————————————————

This is not very good. But I kinda like it. also MIGUEL OHARA TAKE ME NOW… anyways.

ALSO I COME FROM A HISPANIC FAMILY BUT I USE SPANISH LIKE NEVER SO IT IS NOT GOOD DONT BE MEAN.

Thanks for requesting anon! And thanks for reading! Please don’t be scared to write comments I absolutely love seeing them!

Have a great day! Bye!

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stevie-petey · 3 months

Text

episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. “Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chet and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve’s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem, your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

⌑ series masterlist

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⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dart just wanted a quick snack guys #also dustin n bug are so so so sibling rn #i love em

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thestarrynightslover · 8 months

Text

Whatever Comes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,147

Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of blood, life-threatening injuries, hit-and-run, fracture wounds, and miscarriage.

Summary: Doctor (y/n) (y/l/n) and Jay Halstead are secretly dating when there is a terrible accident involving (y/n) and a lot comes to light.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a long while and I don't think it's all that good but I had to restart somewhere, so I hope you like it anyway!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You had just gotten out of your car across the street from the side of Med and, as you were making your way through the bit of road that led to the hospital, a car comes into the driveway — screeching tires, in full speed — and runs you over long before you could even see anything and, there, in the matter of a few seconds, everything goes black and you’re left bleeding out in the street.

Almost an hour later, after you had regained consciousness and had begun dragging yourself, very slowly, towards the hospital, Will and Ethan, about to go inside Med, spot you and run your way eager to help you out — even if they hadn’t known it was you at first.

“Oh man, it’s Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Ethan exclaimed.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!?” You sort of heard Will ask through your dizziness haze.

“Wow, you’re actually shorter this up close than I had imagined at first.” You attempted a joke with your friend, momentarily gaining some clarity.

Ignoring you, Will just asked no one specifically, “oh Lord, how long has she been bleeding out here?”

Decisive as always, you heard as Dr. Choi commanded, “I don’t know but, come on, Will, let’s carry her to the ED!”

As soon as your friends get inside the hospital with you, everybody stays in shock for a moment until Maggie yells: "get her in treatment 4, now!"

Following her lead, Will and Ethan get started on treating you, who has a few broken ribs, and free fluid in your belly besides from a punctured spleen. Having done their best in the ED, they decide to send your upstairs for surgery with Crocket.

Once you're going to surgery, Miss Goodwin tells Maggie and the doctors to call PD and specifically ask for Intelligence, since you were friends with the unit. As the cops get there, one stands out: Jay Halstead. He's frantic, devastated-looking, just completely lost, and desperate to hear more news about your condition. No one really understands why he is reacting like that, but all of them do share the fear of losing a great friend. Voight's giving out assignments to the team, so Jay knows that that's when he needs to speak up.

"Um, sarge?" All eyes are on him. "If you and the team don't mind running one man short today... I was hoping that I could, um, stay here with- with her?" Hank just stares at him, unlike everyone else — who are shocked — the older man's focus is on his detective's eyes, on the way he was so distraught from the moment they got the call about (y/l/n). That was the behavior, the look, of a terrified man. And, as everyone there knew, Jay Halstead — the freaking war vet — wasn't one to get scared easily. "(y/n) and I-"

"It's fine. No need to explain. You should stay here, Jay. Let us know, in case anything changes. And we'll catch the son of a bitch." He said firmly, making Jay feel as appreciative as ever, and, also, sending an implicit message to all the other members of the unit, one that said: we work this with all we got right now, for (y/n), and for Jay, no questions asked.

After the officers left the hospital, there was still a big commotion from everyone who stayed, because it was one of their own up there in the or. But, surpassing everyone else's, was Will's surprise by how distraught Jay looked, especially considering how his little brother wanted to stay at the hospital, instead of going to find who hurt you. So he comes to confront the detective about it. "So... You and (y/n) are a thing?" Will asked, trying to understand. Since Jay just nodded his head, he decided to push a little further: "And... Were you ever planning to tell me? What the hell, man?"

"Will, I-"

"She's one of my best friends, Jay! Not to mention the fact that I'm the doctor who oversees her work here!"

"Will you put it down?" Jay pleaded with his brother, motioning him to a more reserved corner of the waiting room. "I know, okay? I know. And I'm sorry if it upsets you, man, I really am. But this could've blown her career. That's why we hadn't told you yet." It was clear that Will didn't exactly like his brother's explanation, but he knew it was true.

"Just... How long?"

"Um, about six months?"

"Six months?!" The doctor yelled in shock, then repeated it in a lower tone. "But, six months?"

"Yeah, I know it's a lot of time keeping you in the dark, Will. But, trust me, we weren't thrilled about it. And we were hoping to tell you soon. I swear." Jay said, and his brother could, once again, see it was the truth.

"So, that means that when you started seeing each other she was still finishing med school?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which was, like, the main reason for us to keep it under wraps. An intern dating the attending doctor's little brother? Wouldn't look good."

"That's true..." At that point, Will took another look at his brother. Jay looked so worried and scared, even while trying to hide it. "So, uh, you guys are serious?" That question got a little smile out of the detective.

"Yes, we are. I know that it is new for you... But, I love her, Will. I really do." He took a moment to breathe, not being able to hold back some tears this time. “And, I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

“Jay…” Will started saying but didn’t quite know how to continue. What could he possibly say to comfort his brother right now? “We just… We just gotta stay hopeful, okay? (y/n) is a really tough person and Dr. Marcel is a great surgeon, you know it. She is gonna pull through.”

A lot of disquieting hours later Crocket finally comes out of the surgery, just to be met by a very worried hospital staff and an on-edge Jay Halstead.

"Where is sh- How is she? Is (y/n) okay? Can I see her?" The detective hovers, not even taking a breath.

"Wow! Uh, you gotta calm down a little, buddy."

"Don't give me that crap! Just- just tell me how she is!" Jay shouts again, not giving a damn about what anyone was thinking. You were the only thing on his mind right now.

"Alright. But try to keep breathing, okay?" To that, the other man didn't even bother to answer. "Okay, um, it was a very complicated surgery, I had to do a lot of cleaning and moving around to get to the worst parts and-"

"Can you please just cut to the part where you tell me if she's okay? No offense, but you can fill me in on the details later." Jay stated nervously. It wasn't just that he wanted to know what was the result of all those hours in the or, but, also, because Jay knew he wouldn't understand half of what Connor was saying, even with the simplified language. You would. But not him.

"Right. Okay. She's, um, she's okay for now. We'll need to monitor her on an hourly basis, though." By that point, the surgeon could already see the relief on both Halsteads' faces, so he went on. "We controlled the bleeding, but, with all the blood loss," he stopped to take another look at the detective, "I'm afraid," another pause, because, sure he had delivered this kind of news before, but this time it was a lot harder, because those people were his friends. And, what they had just lost, he had just lost too, in a way, "we couldn't save the baby."

"The baby?" This time he got an answer from both brothers.

"Uh, uh... You, uh, you didn't know she was pregnant?" Crocket asked, kind of already guessing the answer while sharing a look with Will.

"Oh my God..." It was all the youngest Halstead managed to let out. Seeing how his brother was unable to react any further, Will decided to step up and ask the tough questions.

"So, um, if everything goes well from now on, you think that (y/n/n) will make a full recovery?"

"Ahhh, yes, actually. She was in great health, so, after making it through, uh, through the night, she shouldn't have any major issues." At that point, Marcel himself was trying to be as objective and as doctorish as possible, in order not to make things worse for the man who had just heard that he lost a child he didn't even have a chance to wait for.

"So, is it, um- is it possible that she didn't know about the pregnancy yet?" But, damn it, Will just kept asking all the impossible questions.

"Uh... It is, actually. Very possible." Hearing that, the detective immediately glued his eyes on him. "We estimate that the fetus was about seven weeks. It's very common that women on birth control haven't found out about it at that point." As neither Halstead said anything, Marcel continued, "well, she's up in the ICU now and in and out of consciousness but, if you want, you can see her for a few minutes."

Hearing that, the detective came out of his haze and said: "Yeah, I wanna see her!"

A few hours later, as Will Halstead gathered his things after finishing his shift, he decided to go check on you but got surprised when he realized that his brother was still there, in the waiting room. "Jay, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm waiting," he said simply.

"Jay." Will called again, "you can't do this, you need to go home, get some sleep, eat…"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"She's not gonna be alone, Jay." Not getting any response, Will decided to lead with something else. "You know, Voight called Goodwin and said that they're hitting a lot of walls in the (y/l/n) investigation…" Measuring his brother's reaction, Will continued: "Maybe they'd have better luck working with the whole team…"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow I'll tell Voight that I want in on the investigation." Jay said, not making any sign of wanting to leave.

"Jay, you can't work tomorrow after staying here the whole night!" Seeing his little brother still not intending to leave, he threatened, "if you don't go home right now, I'll call Voight myself and tell him that you're in no shape to work-"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Will said, looking as serious as they get. "Look, Jay, you know she's in good hands here. And, whatever happens, you'll be the first to know, I've made sure of it."

"But-"

"But nothing, Jay! It's time to go, come on!" Will pressed so much that Jay resigned himself to do as his brother told him.

For almost a week, you stayed in the ICU. For almost a week, Jay Halstead passed by Med on his way to work and on his way home from work.

Once you were moved to a room, Jay started feeling like he could finally breathe again, even though there was now the baby that someone had still to tell you. And, after chatting with Will and Crockett, Jay had already decided he was gonna be the one to deliver the news to you. So, one day, after Intelligence had already caught the drug dealers that were running away when they hit you, Jay asked Voight for the afternoon off to take you home from the hospital.

When you were at your place, you asked Jay what was going on: "Hey, you didn't say a word on the way here, is anything besides the fact that I just spent almost two weeks in the hospital and that everyone found out about us wrong?"

"Let's sit down for a minute, babe."

The minute he said that, you knew there was something really wrong.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" You said while sitting down on the couch.

"I just- I have something important to tell you," and, like that, Jay proceeded to tell you the worst thing you ever heard. It's not like you'd been planning on becoming a mother or anything like that anytime soon but it was still a possibility that was brutally taken away… You and Jay cried together for the first time and, consoling each other, you felt your relationship growing stronger.

So much so that after some time you could start talking about the future that both of you foresaw with one another and, even though nothing was completely decided, there was one thing you knew for sure: as long as you were together, you could face anything.

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aphroditesmoon · 10 months

Note

hi there ! could I get a gwen x gn! reader where gwen finally confronts reader after going missing for months during events of atsv?

lose your faith in me

gwen stacy x gn!reader

summary: two months without her was too long for you, but not long enough for you to forget her.

warnings: hurt/comfort, gn reader, fluff, curse words.

a/n: hopefully this is to your liking<3

°°°

IT'S BEEN accurately 68 days and 1610 hours since you've last seen Gwen Stacy.

Two months since she slid out of your window while you were sleeping in the middle of the night. Two months since she disappeared without a word, leaving you nothing but a folded paper by your bedside with a 'text u when i get home' scribbled over it.

George Stacy wouldn't meet your eyes when you decided to come knocking on his door a month ago. It felt like you're not looking beyond the curtains where the sun hides when you're talking to him.

He didn't know where Gwen was, it was evident, but he wasn't worried over it either. And when he says her name, it sounds foreign to both ypur ears, like he's talking about a stranger and not his own daughter.

He tells you that you shouldn't look for her. An odd thing for a father to say, but the grief in his eyes forces you to oblige, so you gave in and threw away her stupid rotting note, buried deep in your pockets for all the while she's been missing.

But ghosts eventually find their way back home, her grave in the shape of your bed, and in your arms the only place she'll ever find peace.

You felt her before you saw her, chilly air enters your room from the window, and when you glance up from your pillow, her silhouette stares back at you, an image so clear and persistent that you know you weren't dreaming it. You lift up your body, eyes squinting at her. When she steps closer, the moon finally shining its light on her face, you flinch as you're met with a masked face, the widely known ghost-spider.

A barely audible gasp leaves you when the spiderwoman moves to rip the mask off of her face, and all the questions you've asked nightly to the universe finally answers themselves. You take off your blanket slowly, getting up to walk towards your Gwen is a cautious manner, her eyes stays on your face, waiting for a reaction. Waiting for fear to colour your features.

But besides your suprised expression, you don't show any sign of hostility towards her.

Gwen watches as you finally step in front of her, faces inches from eachother, eyes wide and brows furrowing. She didn't plan to reveal this to you, neither did she plan to find herself in your room, the moment she's been zapped back into her universe by Miguel.

Her fingers flexes to stop itself from trembling, and when your hands reaches up to cup the right side of her face, her eyes soften, and Gwen lets out a heavy breath, succumbing to your touch.

You don't hesitate to move your arms around her, pulling her towards you as she finds her place on your neck, her own hands wrapped around your waist.

You feel her fingers fisting the back of your shirt, as if you'd disappear if she pulls way. Eventually you do, facing eachother once more, you lean your forehead againts hers and feel your mind finally coming back into yourself. She didn't want to speak, it was obvious, but you also knew that it was necessary.

Dissapearing for two months was one thing, finding out she was ghost-spider is another. You should feel betrayed, angry, disappointed in the least, but all you felt was aching pity for her, trying to imagine how alone she must've felt, even when she had you by her side. You opened your mouth to speak but she cut you to it first.

"I'm so stupid." You cracked a smile despite the circumstances as Gwen winces at her own words.

"That fucking came out wrong- I was gonna say 'I'm so sorry' actually." She corrected herself, gripping your forearm.

"I know." You tell her. "You should've-"

"-Told you, I know, god knows, I know. I was just so terrified, I lost Peter, and everyone thinks I killed him, my own dad looked at me like i was a monster when I took my mask off in front of him. Do you think I could've handled having you look at me like that?" That silenced you.

All the petty anger you've buried deep waiting for her return felt childish now. You would've done the same thing if you were her, you knew that.

When she sees your own tears welling up, Gwen cursed herself for saying the things she said. She didn't need you to carry her guilt. Gwen pulled you back into her arms, and you take in the odd mint smelling shampoo she must've been using and kissed her temple.

You felt yourself about to burst now, She was here, and she's laying herself open for you to see, all the things she's never told anyone about before.

"I love you." You croaked out, feeling yourself unable to strain the overwhelming sadness. And Gwen wipes your tears away despite her own and tells you what you already know. "I love you too."

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #ghost spider x reader #ghost spider #atsv x reader #atsv #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse

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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months

Note

Probably lane, but the origin story of Uihoys blue feather? Uihoy boring Vic’tao with stories meant to teach him a lesson about his temper and impatience. I wonder what Uihoy was like in his younger days!!

An Elder and His War Stories

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 1559

Summary: Uihoy recounts the time he acquired the blue feather he usual sports. This shows he's not always the confident, sure footed male he would like everyone to think he is.

Author Note: Definity not lame! I promise you. Question's like these make me think, force me to worldbuilding and I love it. I have an app called Campfire that helps me keep everything in line.

Masterlist

Ao3

Uihoy isn’t the mighty, always sure footed Yautja you all know about. The male has had his fair share of falls and accidents.

How else do you think he lost a finger and a half on his right hand? Not from a hunt. At least not in the way you are all thinking.

As his feather, that’s a fun story to dive into. It’s a recent feather he acquired too. On a solo hunt without either of his mates.

Perched in the high trees of Yautja Prime, Uihoy had returned to his home planet. It was a once in a blue moon situation for him to step upon these grounds again. Not like he left on bad terms. But, his home was with his mates. He held no emotional connection here anymore. Any of his brothers and sisters are spread among the planet and stars. None of them were close to each other. Nothing to kept him tethered here.

The reason the purple Yautja found himself here was for a hunt. Food was low in stock on the ship. For some reason, he was craving Boor that could only be found in three rivers close to his home village.

This leads him back to where he once grew up over seven hundred years ago. Usual for a Yautja to live to that age, even more so. Anything beyond a thousand is where things become unlikely. This is a species of hunters. Death is always high. Which, Uihoy shrugged about. Many of his siblings are gone, living with Cetanu in his hunting grounds. Even both of his parents are gone. Sire perishing to a hunt some hundred years ago. Dam losing her life to childbirth.

At this point, he had found himself perched high in the tallest tree in the area, enjoying the calm jungle. A biome designed, evolved not to let the weak survive.

His eyes fell close while he opened his other senses. The scent of everything that filled the area with life filled his lungs. Uihoy let his upper mandibles pull up, tongue flicking out between lethal teeth.

Nostalgia struck him in the gut.

All the memories of him learning how not to die first before learning the ways of a hunter. They flashed behind his closed eyelids, a reminder of his younger, dumb self. He’s had to master more than usual. It was something he was born filled with. Not like a few of siblings and those of the same year as him.

But in that tree, close to home, was an abode of something else.

A screeching cry jolted him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped open just in time to see a Iot-oci dive bombing him. The size of the bird was terrifying to say in the least. Being around seven and half feet tall himself, it was about little taller than his waist.

Before he knew it, his hand slipped from the slimmed trunk. Uihoy had no time to react. The Iot-oci was coming straight at him, bright colors and all. A male. It flared its wings right before it struck him with short talons to his chest.

Uihoy fell back with a yelp at the sudden shift of weight. His hands freely clawed through the air but found nothing to latch onto. The Iot-oci soared over him and took up into the sky. Probably to make the job was done.

Air rushed past him for a short moment until his back hit a thin branch. Said stick bent under his weight and didn’t catch him. Uihoy fell again. His body weight was shifted so he could twist around and face the incoming ground. One of his- “you fell?” Vic’tao rumbled, voice monotone. His exterior body language read as lax, unconcerned after hearing of his mate’s fall.

A deadpanned look fell over Uihoy’s features, directed at the yellow Yautja standing across the counter from him. “Yes, I fell. Damned thing came out of nowhere,” Uihoy argued for his pride.

Vic’tao chuffed a laugh and tried to stifle it with only working partially. “I’ve heard their wing beats are loud. How could you miss such a sound?” the younger male teased his older mate. Vic’tao has never stepped foot on Yautja Prime in all his years. He only knows of Iot-oci from pictures and videos.

The latter scoffed and pushed off of the counter he once leaned on. His arms were held out at his sides. “I was having a nostalgic moment!” Uihoy defended himself then rest his elbows back on the counter again. “Now, as I was saying-“

He reached out, flailing about for a branch to snatched. A few unlucky swipes later, Uihoy was able to dig his claws into a thick branch. The jolt of weight nearly pulled his arm out of its socket but he snarled and held on. Another screeching cry met his ears. Mighty curses fell from his jaw. Uihoy scrambled back onto the new perch and whipped his head up.

Through the suns piercing rays, Uihoy spotted the blue form of the Iot-oci diving for him once more. Once a few seconds to spare, he leaped to the side, a branch down.

Higher pitched calls scrambled his brain for a moment. He looked to his left only to be greeted with the sight of a large nest filled with five newly hatched Iot-oci. Paya, fuck him sideways! He couldn’t catch a break while back in his own nest grounds.

First thing that came to his mind was to desolate the place as quickly as possible. The Iot-oci will do its damned hardest to slaught Uihoy for being in the same tree as its offspring, let alone the same branch.

Claws tore at his back, knocking forward and back down to the ground. Uihoy cursed out as he slammed into a thicker branch towards the base of the tree. All of the air in his lungs was forcefully shoved, leaving him heaving for nitrogen. His nails dug into the bark two seconds too late. Once more, he fell his way back to the ground.

Face first, Uihoy slammed into the leaf covered jungle. A grunt surpassed his vocal cords. Desperately, he wanted nothing more than to lay there in defeat but the swooshing through the humid air prevented him the luxury. He rolled to the side and used the momentum to get to his feet and face the Iot-oci.

It had landed at the spot he once was and flared it large wings. Uihoy took a step back, it followed with two of its own to keep up. But he wasn’t going to kill it. It’s only protecting its nest from him. Not a worthy kill. It was against the honor code as well.

Carefully, he took mindful steps backwards until he felt a safe enough distance away from the tree. The Iot-oci followed him all the way but he read the way it grew weary of the gap spanning between it and its nest.

This was what Uihoy was wanting.

The Iot-oci will turn away to protect it nest. Males were smaller than females. They were the protector of the nest while the dam left to retrieve food and mark their territory. With the dam nowhere near, the male took back to the skies and head back to its nest. Uihoy breathed a sigh of relief and checked himself over for injuries.

Nothing was broken, bones at least. His skin had been sliced by the short but deadly claws of the Iot-oci. Small enough he could forget about.

As the purple male turned to leave, a flash of blue caught his attention. He gazed at the spot the Iot-oci once stood to find it left behind a feather. A short hum sounded from his vocal cords. Uihoy leaned over and claimed the feather as his now. He tucked it away in his belt for later and begun his trek further in towards one of the rivers for Boor.

“And that’s how I got my blue feather,” Uihoy finished and gave a minute bow to the male before him.

Vic’tao still looked bored then sat up in his high stool chair. His hands came together in a slow slap, mockingly congratulating Uihoy for his story. “Such a wonderful story, old man.”

“Oh, hush, young blood. You know nothing of the dangers. You’re mothership bred compared to a home world bred. You lived life with little danger.” The words sounded harsh, but it was just playful jester between the two of them.

“When the elder can’t even defend himself from a Iot-oci because he was ‘distracted’.” Vic’tao used his fingers to create quotation marks around the last word. One of his upper mandibles was lifted as he stared at his mate across him.

Uihoy groaned and leaned back. The counter used as an anchor point so he doesn’t fall back. “I told you it was nostalgic! I was reminiscing my time in my youth.” He reached across the counter to tap at Uihoy’s hand. “You should remember the time before your bones creak like mine.”

This got a huff from Vic’tao. Said male stood up and walked around the counter to stand next to his mate. As the taller of the two, he wrapped his arms around Uihoy’s torso. Vic’tao nuzzled his head into Uihoy’s cheek. “Mine already do.”

#yautja #predator #yautja x you #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #vic'tao #uihoy x vic'tao #uihoy

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it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

Text

Celestia-sent (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Prequel Part 1 Part 2

Summary: There's a weird guy lying outside your house.

Warnings: Vulgarities, food (stew) , mentions of injuries , crying, reader mistakes al haitham as a old guy lmao, reader lives in vimara village, spoliers for al haitham's lore,

Word count: <1.7k words

Inspired by: -

Author's note: it was kinda therapeutic to write al haitham's part- the first half. not sure why. it just felt so easy. i miss my grandma. i should visit her once i feel better.

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

He's just lying there, faced down. His grey hair sticks out painfully against the brown dirt path, and you fight the urge to squat down to take a closer look. It's a shade of grey you have never seen before. It kinda looks like the moon.

Another old drunkard, you think. There's been many of them recently in Vimara village. Ever since the scandal in the Akademiya three months ago, Port Ormos had crashed. The whole port is a mess- what once was Sumeru's most efficient had become disorganised and stagnant overnight. Now, it's akin to a ghost town- especially after the mass layoff of port employees.

Trading has halted completely, the Wikala Funduq citing 'awaiting instructions from Akademiya higher ups'. But so far, no one from the Akademiya has come down to remedy the situation and help revitalise Port Ormos.

As a result, private traders can't do business, and trading companies can't do business, so no one is making money anymore. Traders from Inazuma and Snezhnaya had stopped docking in Sumeru. In a couple more months, Port Ormos would lose its position as the central trading hub of Teyvat. Sumeru will lose a terrifying portion of its national income. It will only get worse from there.

Vimara village was outraged at the mass layoff. Most port employees lived there, after all. In an instant, families lost all sources of income. The village community had tried to help each other, sharing food and whatever they could with each other. But this was only a temporary solution. The stress of unemployment is beginning to weigh heavy on many, which is why many have taken to drinking recently.

Which is why you aren't surprised that a guy's passed out on the ground. What was surprising is that you had never seen this dude before.

He's wearing expensive clothes, you note. He's definitely not from the village. Clad in green, he'd almost look like a plant if not for his grey hair. There's a cape hanging off his back, and on a shoulder is what you think is a vision.

Damn, you wonder. What kind of guy is this?

Curiosity gets the better of you. Squatting down next to the old guy's side, you lay your groceries down. Strangely, you don't smell any alcohol on him. So, not a drunkard?

"Hey, uh… sir?" you shake his shoulder, brushing your fingers over his vision. It's cool to the touch, the green orb emitting a gentle glow amidst the fading daylight. "Wakey wakey, mister?"

The man doesn't wake. You sigh. What are you going to do? It's almost nighttime. You can't just leave him here. I mean, you could, but still…

There's a pleasant aroma in the air, accompanied by the sound of sizzling oil. Onions, Harra spice… stir-fried with snapdragon leaves?

It reminds Al Haitham of his grandmother's cooking. Maybe she's making dinner now. He's pretty hungry.

Huh. Now that he thinks of it, it has been a long time since he's had dinner with her. When was the last time he even spoke to her? Or visited her?

He has so much to tell her.

He has to tell her about his job as a Scribe. Well, for now, he's the ACTING Grand Sage. Not for long, though. He'll make sure of that.

He's got to tell her about the stunt he pulled to save Lesser Lord Kusanali. She'd enjoy that tale. Probably scold him for being so reckless as well, though.

Yeah, he'll do that. Maybe he'll ask for a second serving of rice too. He's really, really hungry.

Then, he'll ask for advice on how to handle the whole shitshow that he has been assigned to run. She'll know what to do. She always does. She'll teach him how to manage the infinite number of impossible tasks thrown his way.

She'll comfort him. She'll tell him that in no time, he'll be back to his usual job: stress-free and not responsible for saving the nation from a crisis that may result in future generations growing up in poverty and political instability.

She'll hear him out as he rants about the mess Azar and those fuckers ("Language, Al Haitham!") had left him. And how everyone was so reliant on the Akasha terminals and the sages' leadership that when all that disappeared, they were clueless. They can't function anymore. Systems fall apart. People stop working. And because of that, he has to do everything on his own, and he's so tired and-

The sizzling sound has stopped. Is it dinner time already?

But he doesn't want to get up. Not now. Just ten more minutes, please?

There's a faint scraping sound. A spatula against a wok. If he tries hard enough, he can hear a plopping sound. So, it's a stew. He hopes it's Sabz Meat stew. That's his favourite.

How long has it been since he had a homemade meal?

Footsteps. Ok, no ten minutes, then. He'll get up.

Wincing, he sits up. His whole body aches. His knees feel sore. That's weird. He hadn't fallen or hit anything, but he feels bruises forming all over his arms and legs.

Trying to adjust to the bright light, Al Haitham slowly opens his eyes. He's in a small living room. Huh, he doesn't remember his grandmother moving. She never had this couch he was resting on either. Or the wooden coffee table in front. Or that many Liyue magazines.

"Ah, you're awake!"

That's not his grandmother's voice. Wait, what did her voice sound like again?

Al Haitham whips his head towards the voice so fast he pulls a neck muscle. Groaning, he reaches for his neck, massaging it before attempting to turn around, slowly this time.

"Hey, relax!"

There's a soft click from behind, and then frantic footsteps. Someone runs around the couch.

It's a woman. Not his grandmother.

Oh.

Oh yeah. Of course, it isn't her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Hah, what was he doing, dreaming? Someone like him? Dreaming?

"Uh…sir?"

Of course, it isn't her. The dead can't come back to life. He's alone now. He has been for the past decade.

"…sir?"

He'll always be alone. Now, and for the foreseeable future. If he can even ensure that Sumeru still has one.

There's a hot sensation on his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. It's the woman again. This time with a bowl in her hand, holding it right in front of him.

He'd recognise that aroma anywhere. It's Sabz Meat stew.

"Um, I'm not sure what's going on," she says, placing the bowl into his hands. "But why don't you eat first?"

She pulls the coffee table closer towards him and walks back behind the couch to retrieve cutlery from the kitchen and a plate of rice. Laying them on the coffee table, she then sits on the floor, watching him.

"I didn't add lemons, but I can get you some if you want?" she asks when he doesn't move.

A minute passes. Al Haitham can't move. He can't, and he honestly doesn't want to.

What's the point of moving? Everything moves too fast. He'll never catch up. There's too much. There will always be proposals he can't clear in time. A question he can't answers right now. A policy he needs time to understand. Time that he doesn't have. Time that Sumeru can't afford to lose. He'll always be behind. And because of that, Sumeru will fall behind. Because of him.

It's almost funny. Before all this, he had never worried about being behind. He barely worried about anything.

"Come on," she prompts, taking a spoonful of rice and handing it to him when he still doesn't move. "Eat. You'll feel better after you eat."

Al Haitham doesn't have the energy to resist or deny her. Taking the spoon, he dips it into the bowl, letting the rice soak up some of the stew before lifting it to his mouth.

And suddenly, he's 19 again. He's in the dining room, having dinner with his grandmother again. She's lecturing him about spending too much time alone at home. Again.

"You may not understand now, Al Haitham. But there are people out there- good people. People willing to listen, be patient with you, and shoulder burdens with you. Comfort you."

Al Haitham reaches over to scoop another spoonful of rice. His eyes feel funny. So does his nose.

"You are never alone, child. I just want you to know that. "

Am I really?

Then just send one person, please. I'm waiting.

I've been waiting for a long time now.

"And one day, you may find someone that you can bare your soul to-you do have a soul, child. Everyone has one- no, yours isn't as dark as that 'black coffee'."

His vision is blurry now. With hydro. How strange. He chomps down another spoonful of stew. It's delicious. He hasn't had comfort food like this in a long, long time.

Just one sign. Please. I can't do this anymore.

"But until then, grandma is here to stick by you, hm? Until you stop being stubborn and go make friends!"

The woman shifts in her seat on the floor. In his peripheral, he sees her reach over to a box, pulling out tissues.

She moves closer to him, a little bit hesitantly. But when she realises that he isn't moving away, she gently dabs his eyes with the tissue.

"There, there?" she comforts awkwardly. She then reaches over to pat his back. "It's gonna be ok. Just let it out."

And that's all it takes. It's so weird. Hydro Tears begin to flow freely. He chokes back a sniffle.

She doesn't stop patting his back. The weight of her palm is comforting- almost grounding.

He cries. In the presence of an absolute stranger, he cries ten years worth of tears in a night.

Later on, as he drifts off back into the realm of sleep to the rhythmic pats on his back, Al Haitham wonders if this is what his grandmother meant.

Maybe there really are people that are willing to stand by someone like him.

Join the Taglist!

#alhaitham #alhaitham genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #hereandnow #al haitam x reader #al haitham

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hellsingmongrel · 2 months

Text

So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.

Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?

NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!

I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.

But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.

He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.

He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.

And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.

I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.

#Trigun #Trigun Maximum #Nicholas D. Wolfwood #Vash the Stampede #This probably is a bit insufferably angsty #I can't tell #I'm PMSing and having Vashwood feels and I'm making it eveyone else's problem!#But no really though I fuckin' LOVE ghosts in media!#Favorite trope 10/10 would rip my heart out again!#RP musings #Vashwood #Also yeah this may be completely out of character to other people but #S H R U G #This is just where my brain lead me when I started wondering what Wolfwood's ghost did after Trimax #Also I know it doesn't exactly fit canon but his Vash has started developing salt-and-pepper streaks in his black hair #and little age lines because he's like 500 YEARS OLD at that point or something #andI kind of love that mental image #Wolfwood still thinks he's the most beautiful thing on No Man's Land but he's VERY biased and has developed a bit of an unhealthy fixation

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bestworstcase · 6 months

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do you think it will be significantly harder for oz to reconcile with salem’s cause than the rest of rwbyjnor? with the way things are going i can see how the kids could get there but i’m so curious to see how oz will react. even if he is opening up more now, it’s a whole other thing to go back on the mandate and shift his view of salem after how long it’s been.

honestly i think the hardest part is already over in that none of it is buried anymore. for thousands of years ozma wore himself deeper and deeper into this rut, methodically cutting salem out of history until he had nearly absolute control over the fact of her existence. and then he locked the proverbial tower and threw away the key.

he had no plan.

like, prior to the fall of beacon, ozpin was just rotting. he dissociates through all of V1 and only wakes up when qrow alerts him that salem has "pawns" at beacon. and—look.

beacon academy—the school ozma built—is modeled after salem's father's castle. the headmaster's office is in her tower.

what does that tell us about how ozma conceives of himself, how he feels about his task, about what he really wants?

then the lost fable happens. ruby asks what ozpin is hiding, and jinn tells his whole story. he's made to relive it all over again, see himself make these choices once more. (he sees himself tell the god of light no. he hears himself say "that world just isn't as dear to me without her." he sees her tell him the truth—the gods ended the world—and he sees himself choose to tell her nothing, because he didn't trust her, and keep making that choice for years.)

thennn he spends months boiling in self-hatred and guilt before finding the wherewithal to climb back up and try again. he returns with a narrative monologue about fear, and rising above fear:

"fear of growing closer to someone; a subsequent fear of loss. fear of failure. and, as more people depend on you, those fears can take on greater power. but... fear itself is not worthy of concern; it is who we become while in its clutches. will you be proud of that person? will you forgive them? will you understand why they felt the need to do the things they did? will you even recognize them? ...or will the person staring back at you be the very thing you should have feared from the start?"

i wonder

what he might be thinking about, there.

anyways, consider the lyrics of 'until the end':

To live free or die, it’s all the same The enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming In waves of shame We’re desperate to make amends But through a simple soul we lie complacent Love brings us dreams But grief makes the heart burst at the seams As light fills my eyes I’ll picture me beside her And pray that I’ll inspire I promise I’ll be here until the end I promise I’ll be here until… ...Our story has been told Til our bodies break down every door Til we find what we’ve been looking for And stare with pride into the face of fear In our finest hour, I’ll be standing here

and also consider the way 'fear' lists his, er, fears:

We live in fear that we might fail Fear that we'll succeed Fear that we may not provide The things our loved ones need

in waves of shame, we're desperate to make amends.

and, we live in fear that we'll succeed.

ozma believes that the only way to save the world is to destroy salem. the only reason he agreed to return to the world at all was because salem was in it. that world just isn't as dear to me without her.

he's been stuck and stagnating all this time because: 1. he believes everything the god of light told him. 2. he, like salem, believes that the gods will rule against humanity. 3. he's terrified of the world ending. 4. he believes the only way to avoid that is to destroy salem. 5. salem is, and has always been, his reason for living.

he cannot destroy salem because she can't be destroyed. but he also cannot destroy her because given the choice between losing her and losing the world, he would choose her. he already did choose her.

he's afraid to fail. but he's even more afraid to succeed.

the point of contention between him and salem, fundamentally—the reason they're in conflict and the reason they haven't been able to reconcile up to this point—is #1. ozma has faith in the god of light, regards him as the supreme creator, and does not believe that there is any possibility outside of the binary given by the mandate. salem rejects that, utterly.

shatter ozma's faith, and reconciliation becomes possible very quickly, because that is what he wants. it's less that he needs to be persuaded to reconcile with her and more that he needs permission, because right now he has it carved into his bones that doing what he wants will doom the world.

i think salem will actually be the one much more reluctant to reconcile, as opposed to striking a truce with the vacuo coalition, because ozma abused her trust in such a profoundly horrible way and she is very obviously not over it. like... as things stand right now, ozma is straight up pining for her while salem desperately just wants him gone. "why do you keep. coming. back."

#emotionally salem is a lot closer rn to the way blake felt about adam in V6 than anything.#because ozma's spent the past few thousand years treating her exactly the way adam treated blake after she left him #but the fandom is. not ready for that discussion lmfao

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futurecorps3 · 2 years

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𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐀.𝐊)

Masterlist <3

Summary: Aleks needs to seduce Alina. His wife isn’t too pleased with the idea. Two can play the game. Pairing: husband!Aleksander x fem!reader Warnings: ⚠️POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR BOOK ONE I GUESS?⚠️ possessive Aleks<3, jealousy, implications of smut/sex, Alina hate (but it’s out of jealousy, we cherish and protect her in this household) A/N: Yes, in this one Aleksander is telling the truth and he loves you oh so much not even a sun summoner can take his heart bc u already have it. Hope you all enjoy<3.

This time, it wasn't her worry that was the problem. It was the way her eyes trailed up and down her husband’s body every time she had the chance. It was the astonishment on every face in the room at her little display of (literal) brightness. Including his face. And let us not forget how he kept some kind of physical contact at all times. The worst part is that he did nothing to stop her.

Yes, she was jealous, so what?

Aleksander could be very selfish too, especially when it came to her.

That was her husband, being eye-fucked by that stupid schoolgirl who’d fall for anything he said if he looked deep into her eyes for long enough. Y/N knew because she was that young woman once, only she made him fall deep into her first.

They were both very aware of what their love meant to the other and discussed the whole ‘seducing Alina to make her submit to the fold’s power’ situation so that things like this wouldn’t happen. She just couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help the simultaneous pit in her stomach getting deeper and the burning rage boiling inside her a bit more with every passing second.

Aleksander idolized the ground Y/N stepped on from day one. She was his, and he was hers. Everyone knew it. The moment people knew about their relationship, she became untouchable in the eyes of all Ravkans because she was. They all knew that when the devil falls in love, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful thing ever, and you should be terrified, for he will go to the depths of hell for her.

“Zhizn Moya” it’s how he called her; “my life”. Things couldn’t be clearer than that.

And saints helped anyone who disrespected his life.

Y/N came from a long bloodline of powerful and respected kings from a kingdom far, far away. All the way across the true sea, to be more specific. They met during negotiation meetings right after he offered his services to the king, but way before The Fold was created and grisha still worked in the shadows, their survival and validation being on his hands. She knew him as Leonid, the handsome man who listened attentively to every word that was spoken in those gatherings.

He noticed the only woman at the table staring at him from time to time and asked one of her chaperones about her. He might be 400 years old, but he’ll never forget his answer;

“Be careful of that girl, Leo. You can notice the fire behind her eyes if you look close enough. She makes kingdoms fall and monsters wish they’d never been born... Y/N understood from a very young age that the question wasn’t who was going to let her, it was who was going to stop her”

“Yes, there is something uncanny, demonic, and fascinating in her”

He then found out she fought and won a war at age sixteen, joining the lines after the enemy killed her parents in their sleep. Everyone thought she had lost her mind, that losing her parents had made her a completely different person; and they were right. She was now an icy, calculating machine that ruled a kingdom on her own.

Aleksander knew that if they were ever together, saints would bow. History had its eyes on them, and he would not let it go unnoticed. They were both warriors who fought for the right thing, willing to do anything if it meant things would get better. They were destined for each other. He knew it right then and there. But there was just one issue; Y/N was no grisha.

And oh, how terrible it is to love something that death can touch.

That’s the story of how the tornado with pretty eyes and a heartbeat her kingdom had for a queen, fell in love with a foreign man who fooled dark forces to make her immortal in order to venerate her forever.

That is not an adventure you forget just because a literal sunbeam comes walking into your life ready to fix your past mistakes. You shouldn’t.

In some way, Y/N felt betrayed and overall forgotten. The moment Aleks was informed a boat full of grisha and soldiers had confirmed they saw a sun summoner save them from the volcra, she said goodbye to many little things she loved; late night walks, good morning kisses, the mind-blowing sex, planning strategies together, shit talking about the king, or simply drinking kvas while reading in silence but still cuddling.

They talked about it before. He wasn’t about to go flirt with another woman for the future of his country without consulting it with his partner, of course. And Y/N was perfectly aware of the situations that could rise even in her presence.

It was the desire in her and his eyes that bothered her. It was the smile he used to only give to her that bothered her. It was how precious little Alina was, very much aware that the man she was messing with was a married one, whose wife had met when she arrived at the little palace.

Clapping made its way onto Y/N’s ears, pulling her back into the real world and automatically clapping along. The demonstration was over, and the same sounds people in the king’s throne room did the first time the Sun Summoner exhibited her powers could be heard in that same moment. Most of the grisha and guards were used to the astonishment Alina caused. Aleksander and Alina walked through the crowd, receiving polite pats on the back, people clutching on her kefta’s sleeve and hearing endless congratulations towards the Black General for the promise of saving Ravka being alive and well.

His eyes met hers, dismissing her gaze right away. That was the last straw.

Y/N scoffed and drank the champagne inside her glass in one sip. “Two can play the game”, she thought. The game? What game? She knew this was going to happen, and yet she couldn’t help but feel the vengeful idea of flirting with someone else in front of Aleks creep its way into her brain.

She looks around the room. He notices and studies the situation quietly.

One blond, two blondes, a brunette, and a black-haired nobleman who was staring right back at her. Bingo.

She smirks as he walks up to her. His jaw clenches.

“Good evening” said Y/N, eyeing the man in front of her from head to toe. He was handsome, yes. He was wearing a fancy tuxedo most people wished looked good on them. His hair was all brushed back, staying in place effortlessly and had a certain flare in his walking that seemed to attract most people. Just right. “Hello, miss...” he interrogated, an unasked question ready to be answered by the woman “Y/L/N”. Not Kirigan, not right now.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Mikhail Bancroft, pleased to meet you” Mikhail took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss on it, looking deep into her eyes as if he was looking for something, his thick accent coming forward the moment his voice reached Y/N’s ears. “The pleasure’s all mine then,” she smiled, already pleased with the feeling of eyes burning in her back. He was definitely watching. With time, she learned how his gaze felt.

“What’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a lifeless place like this?” he asked. “It’s complicated,” I replied, not thinking much about the answer as I noticed how hard he was staring at the cleavage Aleksander was so opposed to me wearing tonight “Perfect,” his eyes met mine. “I love complicated”.

Thinking about it, he reminded her of a certain prince that once challenged every form of authority and fought tirelessly to get himself in the front lines of the sea. So seemingly sure of himself, all smirks and witty remarks. “Anyway, would you like to get out of here and-” A scoff beside them cut him short “Excuse the intromission ma’am. General Kirigan has requested your presence in the quarters, now” There stood one of their Oprichniki slightly blushing at the situation she was found in, back still straight but not looking her in the eye as she had requested a couple of times from them.

“Tell him I’m quite busy to attend his nonsense” “He was very explicit on needing you right now, miss Kirigan” he insisted. She complied, nodding slightly and feeling content with the outcome of her whole little show. More so, with the realization that washed over the man’s face, he looked as if he had seen a volcra right then and there. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle. “If you’ll excuse me, Mikhail,” she winked his way and walked away with the oprichniki by her side, a smile of fulfillment displayed on her lips.

Her very step felt heavier and harder to take. She shouldn’t even be nervous. Why would she be? This was the reaction she was looking for all along, right? Getting a rise out of Aleksander out of pure spice and resentment. Suddenly, after a few turns in the maze the Little Palace was, the hallway that led to the room her husband was waiting for her in felt extremely longer that what she knew it to be.

Her kefta felt bigger on her too. The weight might’ve been imaginary, but her anxiety for sure wasn’t. She was being stupid, childish even when she crafted her foolish plan to make her husband acknowledge her existence again. The sound of her heels clacking against the white floor was becoming unbearable as temper consumed her.

The oprichniki opened the door for her and she stepped in with caution. “Thank you, Arthur,” Aleks mumbled as he closed the door. He was sitting in the black loveseat in the back of the room, man-spreading as he used to do on most occasions, one arm draped across the back of the sofa and the other holding a glass of what I assumed was kvas. Saints, was he hot.

She sat on the other side of the big table adorned by the map they had analysed together multiple times, searching for something, anything, that led them to a better strategy for the minor yet fundamental battles that were being fought in the borders with Fjerda. They sat in knee deep silence. No one dared to speak a word first, but at the same time, a whole monologue could be written with the things going on in their minds. Aleksander eyed her from head to toe, sipping on his glass, and Y/N stared at him in the eye furiously.

The air is so brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, she might. No-one speaks. What is there to say? They both knew why they were here. Y/N refused to speak first, but a part of her feared he would never break, that he’d wait until she spoke. He didn’t. The only sound that could be heard was glass clinking when his deep voice echoed in the room without facing her as he spoke.

“Dear Mikhail must make you quite nervous with that delightful accent of his” there it was. “Oh, give me a fucking break. We were just talking” she rolled her eyes.”It’s funny, my accent had the same effect as you. Should I try to get it back or is he enough now?” He turned to finally meet Y/N’s eyes. The irritation and discontent were visible in the way his jaw clenched. She could tell.

Aleksander was a master at keeping his emotions at bay and acting as if everything was fine when he was panicking or burning with rage on the inside. But not with his wife. One, he didn’t need to hide what he felt. Two, if he hid it, Y/N could tell by the little things.

Like right now.

The hurt of realizing he was masking his feelings added pain to her heart, translating into standing up and walking hastily at him, fuming. “Don’t you dare insinuate I’m the one changing you for someone else when you’re doing it right before my eyes,” she exclaimed with an accusatory finger pointed at his chest. He sighed loudly. “Is that what this is all about!?” “Take a fucking guess Aleksander!” once again, she raised her voice and he lost it, walking away from her and leaving his glass behind him.

He then stopped abruptly on his steps after taking one big deep breath and turned to look at her, talking with his hands, a gesture she had always cherished greatly, in more amusing situations, that is. “Are you being serious? Y/N, she’s been here for weeks and just now you find yourself in a predicament? You’re just looking for an excuse for your flirting with that arse and this one is quite absurd! You can do better than that, sweetheart.” The condescendence in his voice made her even more enraged. “Please, you should see yourself from the outside. You’re whipped.” “No, I-” he stopped.

Now he was the one to walk back to her, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, directing it back to his mouth before speaking “Why is this being an issue? You knew about the entire plan and the things that came with it. We talked about it. You’re being ridiculous.” he then cradled her face with both his hands, gently as ever, even though she knew he was extremely angry. The single thought of him being so careful even though he was burning inside made tears prickle her eyes and her face heat up, a lump in her throat “We talked about this,” he said, voice quieter than ever since she walked in the room.

“The plan was you’d draw her in, you were not meant to fall in love” she mumbled, voice shaking as her tears wet her husband’s hands. Aleksander left no time between her statement and his response, fearing mere seconds could complicate the whole situation even more. “I’m not in love with her, Y/N” he sighed in disbelief. Because he wasn’t lying. He really wasn’t in love with Alina. How could he? She’s struggling to string together an argument, a sentence, or just anything longer than an exclamation of his name. But one look at his face tells her he’s telling the truth.

And she doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t know how. But anger and jealousy keep replaying the glances she gave him. All she knows is that it frustrates her to no end. That he frustrates her to no end. “I didn’t see the way she was looking at me. I was too busy looking at you.” And for some reason, she’s not angry. Not at him, at least. Not anymore.“Aleks…” She begins again, her voice sounding weak. It’s all he needs as permission to scoop her up into his arms and place her on his lap as he takes his spot on the loveseat again.

She barely lasted a minute in the conversation. She was quick to break down her walls. He always was. Quick to feel her frustration dissolve at just a few short words. One cheesy line and he’s gotten to her, hook, line and sinker. But it’s the honesty in his voice that weighs the heaviest in her chest. “I just…” “Darling, l-listen to me” he pleaded, his voice shaking ever so slightly at the thought of his wife feeling disregarded and neglected.

“I am not in love with Alina. You are my light. You are my warmth. I am only my true self with you. In this type of life, this kind of trust comes only once. Everything else before or after can only be an imitation of this. I love you. I love you always Y/N.” he paused, making sure she was truly listening. He delivered a peck to her forehead and looked down at her once again.

“I can’t possibly control how she looks at me... and neither can I control the endless charisma I hold,” she giggled and he followed, his attempt on clearing the ambience succeeding. He could listen to her laugh forever.

“But I do have to admit we haven’t been spending as much time as we used to do, and I’m really sorry about that. It’s just I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time and I guess I’m kind of excited about it, since it’s going so well and all...” he smiled at her sincerely “It’s okay Aleksander, I’m sorry” she assured, tears long gone and replaced by a smile. “Besides...” he started, kissing her neck feathery and speaking between pecks “you look absolutely breathtaking in this dress and we both know I have trouble keeping my hands to myself whenever you’re around” she blushed slightly at the contact and smiled contently “Yes, we know”

The way he inhales against her skin tickles, but that feeling is quickly overshadowed by lips pressed against her throat. Her gasp is quiet as his hand creeps up higher, very boldly gripping the meat of her thigh as teeth begin to brush against the most sensitive part of her neck. Her hands reached up, wrapping around his shoulders as her eyes fluttered close, and she wonders why she was even jealous in the first place.

Even now, she could recall the passive look on his face as the girl who had made her feel so threatened made stupid little jokes at him. But even as she batted her eyes and sung her praises, he never truly turned an eye on her for more than a moment. He was naturally charming, sure. But he was naturally selfish, true. She saw a threat in a girl whom he didn’t consider to be worth more energy than necessary. Because how could he? Aleks has always been a selfish man.

Especially when it came to her.

#the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse #six of crows #six of crows x reader #grishaverse x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #he owns me #fine make me your villain #dramatic ass hoe i love him

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dspd · 5 months

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Head cannon for why Loki's face shape changes so much from the first Thor to the end of season 2 of the Loki TV show when it's been canonically not that long and he's already at least a thousand years old:

Well Loki was born a boy she was more often than not a girl as a child when she was closer to and wanted to be more like Frigga. Then, as Loki grew up and was more influenced by Thor and Odin and everyone else wanting to be a warrior, Loki reluctantly started shapeshifting into a boy more often. But since he was more inclined to be like Frigga he'd be uncomfortable and subtly alter himself to a more androgenous look that's closer to how he felt. He thinned his jaw, grew long curly hair, and gave himself a muscled but svelt look.

And as much as he liked the look - and as much as he adored his brother back then - Thor, in that thoughtless cruel way that even Asgardians can have, would poke fun with painful jokes that pricked the back of his eyes and sent him crying to his mother's strong, sheltering, loving embrace more than once.

Still, Loki is still more inclined to quietly rebel against Odin and it becomes a favored form.

But then, after he sees how fruitless it was in the Sacred Timeline, when he sees how they still lost and died painfully and Odin never acknowledged them for who they were to his end, Loki just...stops caring so much about rebelling against the closest thing they'd had to a father figure.

He's so tired.

Loki keeps his male persona up in the TVA, feels the smallest bit more protected, and has that slight advantage of sexism in all its forms even in as peculiar a place as Mobius' side. It helps that Mobius seems enamored with the more masculine parts of his current form. At first, when he's still terrified for his life, he's tense, nerves screaming as Mobius places a hand so high on his shoulder, that his fingertips slip beneath the ring around his neck.

Later Loki finds himself softening, sliding between the wary "he" that he'd become before becoming a Variant and the more amorphous self he'd enjoyed as a child, learning seidr at his mother's knee. Something about the easy touches Mobius gives reminds him of his less frictious childhood. Soothing.

And when Loki meets Sylvie, a less lucky Variant who managed to stay true to her self, changing fluidly between she and they (and sometimes him) but always keeping a face that reminds him of Frigga, he feels like he can try it himself. It's more than unsettling to walk down the hallways of the TVA in a shape, any shape other than the one known as Variant L1230 and she's ready to bolt as her face rounds, her body shrinks and curves, hair lightening closer to the shadowed strawberry gold she'd preferred when female. But she's still recognized, Casey grinning and pausing to tell her that he got a pet fish and they're really cool.

Oh. Right.

TVA.

Loki somehow forgot they don't look at the surface if they look at you at all. Her temporal aura is the same, regardless of the flesh that houses it.

And if that isn't the most effervescent, bubbling affirmation she's ever had.

An indeterminate amount of time later, as time is different in the TVA, Loki ends up chasing a Kang variant who's closing in on the formula to start the interdimensional war He Who Remains...remained to prevent. Loki is panting, chasing him, dashing madly between pedestrians in the crowd, losing to the Variant and -

He's bounding forward, faster than ever on all fours, leaping up onto the parked cars, pushing off with his hind legs, claws digging in and swiping, severing the tendons in the Variant's legs.

The metallic smell of blood is bright and heavy and heady and -

Mobius is sliding between him and his prey, crowding in towards Loki's snout, one hand reaching for his wet muzzle. "Hey, buddy," Mobius murmurs, smiling that signature easy, appreciative smile, crooked nose wrinkling a little. It doesn't reach his eyes. Loki isn't sure why Mobius seems so hesitant, but he pushes his head forward anyway, accepting the touch with a slight rumble.

It feels nice.

When Mobius's hand slips off the back of Loki's skull, he nearly whines, scrabbling around to shove his head under those wonderfully scratchy nails again. When Mobius finds the best spot under his jaw, Loki melts into a loud, rumbling puddle, eyes sliding shut and head dropping into Mobius's hand.

Mobius grunts. "Damn, Loki, your head is heavier than an entire ten year old."

Loki flicks an ear and doesn't move.

As it turns out, unlike with Odin's exacting expectations in Asgard, Loki doesn't doesn't even have to be human to be accepted for who they are.

#this has been sitting in my drafts and I finally accepted that I'll never edit it #marvel's loki #loki s1 #loki s2 #loki laufeyson #loki friggasdottir #genderfluid loki #shapeshifting loki #tva #mobius m mobius #casey #is casey officially casey c casey like mobius???#my writing #nonbinary affirming drabble #lokius #a teensey bit

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dotster001 · 1 year

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A Real Fairytale

Summary: Yan! Rook x gn!reader. Fairytales have a grain of truth in them.

MDNI 18+ for violence and dark depictions normally I'm a 16+ blog but this one got dark so just skip it

CW: Major character death, like, lots of it, Yan! Themes, unhealthy mindsets, injury, beheading, depictions of bodies, blood, supernatural allusions, survivors guilt, ptsd, probably more but idk what else

A/N:I was thinking about old fashioned fairytales, and started writing one in my head, and thus this fic was born. this is a dark one, but I really like how it came out, so even if this has a smaller audience, I don't mind

"Just one more story, mama!"

"Okay, but it has to be a short one."

"I want the one where the hunter falls in love and becomes king!"

"Alright then, Once upon a time…"

In the kingdom of Pomefiore there lived a fair and just king. Beloved by all his subjects, he was blessed with three children. The third born was strong and smart, so he was destined to lead the king's armies. The second born was blessed with empathy and wisdom, and was destined to be the king's adviser. But the firstborn was gifted with all these things, as well as fairness and beauty, and thus was called "the Fairest treasure of the king's court", throughout the land.They were destined to rule the kingdom in a peaceful prosperous reign.

"Well fuck that."

"Epel! Language!"

"Geeze, Neige, you're starting to sound like father," Epel rolled his eyes as you snickered.

"Epel, you've been spending too much time with the stable boy," you said.

"It's not my fault Deuce is more interesting than you two," Epel said, pinching you and Neige in the side for good measure.

"If I swore like you father would have my hyde," you said, attempting to pinch Epel back.

"Well I'm not the court's greatest treasure," Epel mocked in a fancy voice. Before you could smack the back of his head, a large shadow flew overhead.

"Run," Epel said.

One day, a terrifying creature invaded their lands, and filled the people with terror. The king made a proclamation that anyone who slew the creature could choose from any of his treasures. Many a knight tried and failed to slay the monster.

Everyday the same argument. While you and Neige helped settle and feed the displaced villagers, Epel would argue with your father.

"Just let me take a group and try to kill it! You've said yourself, my strategy is better than anyone's!"

"I've lost too many lives, I can't lose you too. Not now when our people need the three of you so they have hope in the future," your father said sternly.

"This shit would be over if-"

"Language, Epel."

One day, a young hunter approached the king.

"Your majesty, I will slay the monster for you."

"So it shall be done. And what shall be your prize if you succeed?"

"I have been told your firstborn is the fairest treasure of your court. I will receive their hand in marriage."

Now the king did not wish to relinquish his firstborn to a peasant, but considering his most powerful knights had been vanquished, he had no fear the hunter would fall as well.

"Pardon?" A lyrical voice said behind you.

You stood up from the woman you were bandaging up to greet the newcomer. He was clearly a hunter, his bow slung across his back, his vivid green eyes observing you intently.

"A new batch already?" You asked tiredly.

It was your duty to look out for your people who sought safety in the castle, but taking care of all these people, many injured beyond saving, was taking its toll on your spirits.

"Non, non, I am here to speak with your father."

You looked at him for a minute, then nodded.

"Alright, Neige, can you finish bandaging her up?"

Neige quickly took your place as you lead the way to your father. Unsurprisingly, he was having another fight with your brother. But the both of them ceased fighting when the hunter cleared his throat.

"My most fair King Vil, my name is Rook Hunt. I am a simple hunter who seeks to take up your challenge."

Epel groaned, and flopped into the seat next to his father.

Vil raised a single eyebrow.

"I mean no offense, especially since hunters are a vital part of our economy, but how do you intend to slay a beast that armies of my most trained men have failed to best?"

"I am a very good hunter."

Epel snorted, but Vil sent him a nasty glare.

"And should you succeed, what would be your chosen prize?"

Rook's green eyes flicked to you, and he smiled sweetly.

"Their royal Highness, Y/N, firstborn to his Majesty Vil Schoenheit, and greatest jewel in Pomefiore's crown."

Your jaw dropped, and Epel bolted upright.

"Absolutely not!"

"Epel-"

"He's crazy! Y/N's not a prize! I won't stand for him speaking about my sibling this way!"

"Epel!" Vil snapped, shutting him up. "Should he be as good a Hunter as he says, then it would be a fair prize."

Your father was angry. He wanted this man to die. And you couldn't say you blamed him. The hunter was asking for a kingdom.

"Then we are agreed. I shall see you in the morning to claim my prize," Rook gracefully took your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, making eye contact the entire time, before leaving with a bow.

"I hope he dies slowly," Epel muttered under his breath, before hugging you tightly.

Your father, a diplomat as ever, simply nodded before hugging you tightly.

What the king did not know was that the hunter had been abandoned in the forest as a babe, and raised by the goddess of the hunt herself. Her final gift to him was a bow that always struck it's mark.

With a single shot, the hunter slayed the monster, and the people rejoiced. He returned to the king to claim his prize.

"Your majesty! You should have seen it!"

A crowd had come to the castle, surrounding the hunter as he nonchalantly carried the head of the beast.

"He slew the monster with a single shot!"

"Our kingdom is saved!"

Whilst the people were singing his praise, Rook dropped the head and made a beeline towards you, face giving away nothing.

Your father stepped directly in front of him, halting his progress.

"You have my thanks, dear hunter. Please, join us for a celebratory dinner."

The hunter looked over at you and smiled, before nodding to your father.

"Gladly. I am quite hungry."

"Please wait outside, so a father can bid a final farewell to his child."

The hunter obeyed. The second born turned to his father and said,

"Father, I look very much like my sibling. Allow me to go in their stead so as to spare you the heartbreak."

Your father kept the hunter away from you the entire banquet. It clearly wasn't easy but you managed to reach nighttime without speaking to him once. You watched Neige talking Rook's ear off, probably trying to persuade him out of it, and your father came and whispered in your ear.

"Go up to bed. Do not leave your room until I tell you."

You nodded, before turning to leave the room. You felt his eyes on your back the entire way.

An hour later, Vil spoke to Rook.

"I have sent Y/N to pack their things, if you are willing to wait here, we wish to say a private goodbye."

"I'm not a cruel man. I wouldn't be so horrible as to deprive your family of a beautiful heartbreaking farewell."

Vil left the room with his sons. Once out of earshot, Neige pulled them to the side.

"Father, I think I can convince him how terrible this is, I just need more time."

"I don't know if we have more time, something's wrong in his eyes. And I think he's out of patience," Epel muttered.

"Give me a glamor potion. Make me look like Y/N. I've trained to reason and advise people my entire life. If I can get one day with him, I'm certain I can change his mind."

Vil stared into Neige's eyes, before slowly nodding.

"I believe you."

With the glamour potion taken, and Neige taking on the guise of Y/N, the hunter bade farewell to Epel and Vil.

The king gave the secondborn a heavy cloak, and escorted him to the gate. But the hunter was not easily fooled.

"Your eyes do not shine as brightly as the firstborn. You are not the true betrothed."

He returned the second born, and promised to return in the morning to retrieve his prize.

You felt eyes on you in your sleep. You must have been imagining it. But you still pretended you were unconscious. Just in case.

Your father picked you up as promised, and told you the plan. The three of you took your breakfast, when a guard entered, his face deathly pale.

"Your highnesses, I bring terrible tidings."

Epel, who had been on edge since the night before shouted, "Spit it out."

The knight shivered, then nodded, before gesturing to the guards who had remained by the door.

You couldn't help the scream that was wrenched from your soul.

For there was your brother, an arrow through his chest, his skin a sickly, chalky, green.

"My god!" Vil stood up and rushed to his son.

"We found him face down in the moat this morning," the knight said, now sobbing.

You were shaking, sobbing, screaming, and everything in between as you tried to rush to your brother.

"Y/N, no," Epel cried, holding you back from the corpse.

"Take Y/N to their room," the king said through sobs, and Epel dragged you out, and away from your beloved brother.

When he arrived, the king spoke again.

"Please wait outside, so a father can bid a final farewell to his child."

The hunter obeyed. The third born turned to his father, saying,

"Father, I look very much like my sibling. Allow me to go in their stead so as to spare you the heartbreak."

After locking you in your room, and placing guards outside your door and window, Epel found his father and slumped into the seat next to him.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him."

"Language, Epel," Vil muttered half heartedly.

"Fuck language! I'm not giving Y/N to that psycho! You know he'll be back. Give me a glamor potion, and I'll finish him off."

"Epel…"

"You've trained me for this! My job is to protect this kingdom and its future. That future is Y/N. And if that monster gets them, he gets the kingdom."

The king continued staring into the distance.

"You know I'm right," Epel said breathlessly. "I swore an oath to protect Pomefiore, with my life if it came to it. I'm a failure if I don't at least try. Besides…"

He pulled something out of his pocket, and closed his father's hand around it.

"Neige gave this to me before he left. He said you'd know how to use it. If I fail…it'll be time to make a deal."

The king slowly nodded.

The king gave the third born a heavy cloak, and escorted him to the gate. But the hunter was not easily fooled.

"Your laugh does not sing as lightly as the firstborn. You are not the true betrothed."

He returned the third born, and promised to return in the morning to retrieve his prize.

You awoke to what felt like a featherlight kiss to your forehead, so light you could mistake it for the wind. It was still pitch black in your room, but you searched anyway to make sure no one was there. Satisfied that you were truly alone, you fell back into fitful sleep.

The king awoke the next morning to your scream.

He ran to your room, hearing more screams and shouts on his way. He shoved through the crowd around your door, and saw you staring and screaming at Epel's severed head, sitting on your vanity.

The king, knowing he could not fool the hunter, and being unable to part with his beloved firstborn, lost his mind in grief, and poisoned his child. Not wishing for their beauty to ever fade, he laid them in a coffin of ice.

You and the king stood in the throne room, staring at the item he held in his hand.

"Remember three years ago, when Niege was invited to the Octavinelle King's banquet?"

You nodded.

"The king gave him this. He told him should we have a moment of great need, to blow into it, and help will arrive. But it will come at a cost." His eyes flickered up to you, hollow and broken. "I'm willing to pay it."

He blew into the conch shell, and two shimmering golden shadows slowly solidified in front of you.

"Your majesty. This is a surprise…"

"We were expecting little angelfish," the other blue haired twin finished.

The king filled them in up to this point.

"I have already found a caravan traveling to the Heartslaybul border. I want you to take Y/N with you to the Octavinelle kingdom. You can blend in with the caravan until you reach Heartslaybul, but from there I pray you won't need to stay as hidden."

"Wait," you interrupted, "I thought the Octavinelle kingdom was frozen over this time of year-"

"Yes, but we have a portal that we can use in case of emergencies. We get three uses out of it, and luckily we have one use left for the season," the calmer of the twins explained.

"And for extra protection, I have this," your father handed you a shimmering silver potion. "Drink this and you will be unrecognizable to even your own father."

You looked at him in alarm, and he offered a sad smile.

"It is only for a little while. By the time the ice thaws the Octavinelle King and I will have hopefully come to a way to end this, and I can retrieve you and remove the potion."

Your eyes watered at the thought of leaving your only remaining relative, but you were quickly interrupted by the one you were referring to as "the wild twin" in your head.

"And as to price, Betta Fish…"

"When the time comes I'll pay anything."

The twins nodded in seeming satisfaction, and you downed the silver potion.

When the hunter heard this, he wept with despair. The goddess of love heard his cries, and took pity on him, giving him her blessing.

You stood at the edge of the forest staring at the frozen ocean ahead of you.

"Floyd…"

"I hear him," Floyd whispered in response to his twin. "Go ahead, I'll catch up."

Floyd turned towards the trees, materializing a staff from the air. You'd learned that combat under the ocean consisted mainly of magic. And Floyd was one of the best.

Jade gave your shoulder a gentle nudge and you both began running across the frozen ocean. The cold air nipped at your skin bitterly, your eyes wanted to freeze shut. But Jade was by your side.

Then he tripped, clutching his chest.

"Floyd," he groaned breathlessly.

He looked up at you, eye's filled with pain.

"Jade," you whispered, your voice choking up.

Jade removed his necklace, and placed it around your neck, before cupping your face.

"When you go through the portal, show that to Azul."

"No, Jade, no," you whimpered.

He turned your face towards a rock formation, before turning it back to him.

"The portal is in the cave by those rocks. Run straight there, and go through, don't look back."

"Jade, the portal will close."

He brushed a tear from your cheek before softly kissing you.

"I'll see you when the ice melts, my love," he gave you a soft smile, summoning his staff.

"Run."

And with a final gentle nudge, you ran.

The hunter kissed the lips of the frozen firstborn, and their eyes fluttered open.

The cave was freezing, but too quiet. At least compared to the blistering winds outside. You ran through the cave, desperately looking for the portal, when you caught a soft blue glow.

You approached the portal. Your hesitation was just for a moment. And in that moment, you heard a single footstep echo through the cave.

"Jade?" You whispered.

It was a prayer. A plea. A lament.

You were whipped around, and held tightly against a body. Lips were pressed to yours, a knife pressed to your back. Your eyes widened in shock, and you tried to squirm away, only for Rook to press the blade further into your back.

A liquid tasting of apples filled your mouth, and with no other choice you swallowed it down, hoping he would allow you to breathe.

But he didn't. He kissed you harder. Held you tighter. Until a wave of pain shuddered through your body, and you cried out against his mouth.

He released you and you collapsed, writhing on the ground as something was changed inside you. Something wrong…

"There's my Y/N," he hummed, a sweet smile on his face that didn't match the moment.

He yanked the necklace from your throat, and you sobbed as he threw it through the portal, closing it.

"While I do enjoy the chase, it was very naughty of you to try and run from your intended. Thus, I have to punish you, Mon Trickster. Immortality is a fitting burden for your crimes, is it not?"

You cried out as another wave of pain rushed through your bones, your fingertips beginning to go numb with pain.

Meeting his gaze, they fell in love with him instantly.

"You're a monster," you cried through gritted teeth. "Do you truly want to be a king so badly that you had to stoop to murdering everyone Iove?"

His eyes widened, and he gasped, reaching out to stroke your feverish cheek with his pleasantly cool hand.

"That is what you think? Perhaps I've been too hard on you…I do not wish to rule. I would be a poor king in comparison to your highness. Non, non, Mon Trickster! J'taime…"

"What?" You groaned, choking on your own breath, your body now unable to move on its own, no matter how hard you tried.

"I love you. From the moment I laid eyes on the jewel of the court, I knew we were destined by the goddess of love herself to be together."

He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one much softer, much more tender, than the one prior. Once he parted from you, he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave you a lovesick smile.

"And now you're all mine."

The hunter exclaimed, "At last! The true first born! Come my beloved, let us return to your kingdom and be wed!"

He scooped you up in his arms, and all you could do was whimper.

He walked you out of the cave, and back onto the ice. Now the wind felt good as your flesh burned with the immortality potion he had given you. He walked halfway across the ice, before stopping. You shut your eyes, knowing what you'd see, but refusing to look.

"It's a shame. I would have loved to have had the opportunity to study such magnificent creatures. Mers are so difficult to come by, even in the ocean."

Your eyes burned with tears, but you refused to open them.

"Don't you want to see what you did to him?" Rook hissed in your ear, and you screwed your eyes even tighter.

He gave a disappointed hum, and set you down on the ice. You heard a crack, and rushing water, and by the time you opened your eyes, all you could see was Jade's chalky hand slipping below the surface as the ice refroze over his body.

Rook picked you back up, and nuzzled his cheek against yours, seemingly pleased again.

"We've wasted enough time here, let's go home."

The world vaporized around you, and before you knew it, Rook was holding you in your father's throne room.

The firstborn joyously agreed, and the people, seeing how happy they both were, punished the wicked king for his crimes.

"Call for him."

"Huh?"

"Call for him."

After a moment, you knew what he meant. The throne room was currently empty, but if you called for your father…

"No."

He gave you a disappointed look, before standing you up, ensuring he had a firm grip on you, and pulling his knife out. He pulled one of your arms up, pressed a soft kiss to it, then cut a deep wound into your arm.

You released a choked scream, and he pressed another kiss to the wound, laying you down.

The door slammed open as your father ran towards you.

His eyes met Rook's, rage filling his violet gaze.

"You get away from my child!" He shouted, drawing a sword from his robe.

Rook simply held a hand up, and your father rose a foot above the ground. He curled his hand into a fist, and you heard a series of sickening cracks, before your father collapsed to the ground in a lifeless unnatural heap.

The hunter and the first born ruled side by side until the end of their days.

You swore you saw them sometimes.

You swore you could see a flash of lilac hair as the guards passed in the halls.

Or hear a lyrical laugh when his favorite birds started to chirp come springtime.

You'd see your father standing by the door every time an apple pie was served, and you'd see Floyd in the faces of your younger citizens, who would come and seek your advice on how to ease their burdens.

You'd see Jade everywhere. In the mirror as Rook brushed your hair in the mornings, and whispered how much he loved you. Standing next to you as you sat in your throne and Rook knelt adoringly at your feet. In the shadows when Rook held you at night.

Rook saw your phantoms too. And he would simply smile at you and press another kiss along your neck.

and they both lived happily ever after.

Immortality is a fitting burden for your crimes, is it not?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook x reader #yandere rook hunt x reader #tw violence #tw blood #tw death #mdni #tw ptsd

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