#why did you have to dislocate your leg darling

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #x reader #reader insert #romance #fluff #spiderman #spiderverse #seratopia writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[seasinkarnadine]

@redswan12

Undead tissue doesn’t heal the same way living skin does. The body’s natural responses are stymied, so without magic it takes an absolute age for injuries to recover. On the other hand, one can continue moving whence the living might be debilitated with pain. It’s been a long time since Laudna felt the pain of being alive. Her left leg drags awkwardly behind her as she stumbles through the inn’s front door.

“Excuse me–terribly sorry,” she murmurs as she maneuvers through the busy crowd. “Oops–! Let me clean that for you.” She prestidigitates the woman’s dress in apology. “You look ravishing in that, by the way.”

It’s a relief to finally reach the stairs. 

Between the railing and her good leg she manages an awkward hop-skip-drag up, one step at a time. There’s a long look from a dragonborn who passes her on his way down, but nobody halts her progress. Thank goodness. 

Her hands are shaking so it takes a few tries before she gets the key into the lock. It’s empty. The others must still be gathering their supplies. That’s probably for the best.

It takes a few minutes of digging through her supplies but she comes up with a spool of red thread. There’s black in there somewhere, but she likes how the red looks against her skin. Almost like she has actual blood. 

“Oi! Put me onna table, all this swingin’ about’s gon’ make me sick!” Ah. Oops. 

“Sorry, Pâté.” She unhooks him from her belt and settles him against her pack.

“They gotcha pretty good huh?” He tilts his head to get a better look at her.

“Oh, damn. Am I quite a mess?”

“‘Fraid so.” She doesn’t have any mirrors so it’s difficult to do a proper assessment. Imogen probably has one… no, it would be rude to go digging through her things.

"I suppose we will have to do what we can." 

"Ye, get the one on yer hip, yer leakin' all o'er the floor!"

"Dear. So I am." It's not difficult to hike up her skirt; the villagers slashed right through it with their scythes. Seems like they cut through tendons, too. Otherwise her hip dislocated when she fell. She'll have a poke at it later.

"Little to the right and they'd have got your lady bits," Pâté notes.

"How gruesome that would've been," Laudna chuckles. Her shaky hands steady some as she weaves the needle through her skin. 

"I betcha it would look like ground meat. Is Imogen inta that?"

"Pâté," she scolds gently.

"Right, sorry." 

She finishes stitching her hip back together, and then moves on to her wrists. She used them to cover her head so they unfortunately took quite the beating.

The door slams open, causing Laudna to startle about 6 feet in the air.

“Assholes,” Imogen spits, unbuckling her harness and tossing it onto the bed. “Laudna?” She turns, but her eyes don’t land quite right. “Why you sittin’ here in the dark?”

“Oh! Seems I rather lost track of time.” She gently folds her skirt over her hip. When had the sun set? “Darling, what happened?” Now that she’s paying attention, Laudna can feel the agitated hum of Imogen’s mind hovering at the edge of her consciousness 

“Small-minded country folk is what happened.” Imogen busies herself with lighting the lamps in their room. “It took me fuckin’ three hours to find a shop that even carried the griffon feathers and when I did the shopkeep took one look at my arms an’ hair and pretended he didn’ even see me! Every time someone new’d show up he’d talk to them before me! And-and then! When I finally did get his attention, he said he didn’t have the feathers, like they weren’t just sittin’ out on the front of the table for everyone to see!”

“What if I went back with you? I’m sure the two of us together could find a way to…persuade him to part with the goods.”

“No, thank you,” Imogen sighs. “I got the feathers in the end–Laudna!” Imogen’s eyes go wide as she turns to look at Laudna for the first time since entering the room.

“What happened?!” 

“What? Where?” Her form of dread prickles at her skin as she searches for the cause of Imogen’s alarm.

“Sweetheart, no. Your face…” 

“Oh.” Her magic settles down. “Is it bad?” The grim set to Imogen’s jaw is at odds with the tender way she cups Laudna’s cheek. 

“Who did this to you.” Something flutters up Laudna’s spine at the dangerous husk in Imogen’s voice.

“I-I took a tumble down some stairs–”

“How’d you fall down stairs?”

“I was in a hurry–”

“Why were you in a hurry?”

“Some of the townsfolk mistook me for a ghoul.” Imogen’s mind stops buzzing and picks up a tapping rhythm instead. She’s asking to be let in. Laudna does not deny her. laudna could never deny her.

I’m gonna fucken’ killem–

No, no, it’s alright. They pushed me into a river–

They pushed you into a river–!

–and I’m pretty sure they think they killed me. They won’t come after me. It’s alright.

Alright?! You coulda drowned!

Darling, I don’t need to breathe. Past the first bend the river was quite calm, really. It was easy to swim out. I dried myself and sneaked back here.

Imogen stands back, her hands balled into fists. Laudna doesn’t need the mental connection to know that fury is blazing bright and hot.

“I’m gonna burn this place to the fucken’ ground.”

“Dear you know I fully support whatever you want to do, but can’t we take a rest, first? I’m exhausted.” She’s beautiful when she’s angry (she’s beautiful all the time), but the townsfolk don’t deserve Imogen’s wrath. They saw Laudna and they were scared. They wanted to protect what they loved.  She can’t fault them for that. After all, if Imogen were in danger, Laudna would do whatever was necessary.

You are far too generous to the world, Imogen sighs. Her body relaxes, her fists unfurling. And far too sweet to me. She sits down on the bed.

“Hand me the jar with the–what’s it called, arcina.” They spend the rest of the evening tending to Laudna’s injuries together. As a team.

#imodna #redswan12 #my writing #cr3 #original content #prompt fill #“who did this to you?” #no beta we die like men #better late than never?

[spice-and-pills]

more pepper/ren writing, this time featuring pepper fucking up ren’s legs by dislocating his knees and ankles >:3c i def want to write more of pepper disabling ren hehehe

Things had been going relatively well, Pepper thought. Ren was typically very obedient and she took good care of him, having picked up his things and buying him a whole new wardrobe. She even took him out on dates, letting him get whatever he wanted while out. So why was he becoming more brazenly disobedient, if she was taking such good care of him? It pissed her off. It was like he was testing his boundaries, and she wouldn’t let him get away with it any longer! 

“Ren?” she called out to him after finishing up work for the day and closing the shop, making her way up the stairs. Sensitive ears picked up the padding of soft feet as he half-ran over to the top of the stairs connecting the apartment and the shop just in time for her to join him. She smiled at him, sickly sweet as she shaked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “Were you good today?” 

His ears tilted back slightly as he glanced off to the side, guilty expression giving him away like a dog who did something he knew damn well he shouldn’t have. “Um.. I.. did my best..?”

“You don't sound very sure of yourself,” she muttered, gaze cold and steady. “Look at me, sweetheart, what’d you do this time?” 

His gaze met hers with uncertainty, staring nervously but not looking into her eyes. At least he was obedient about not making eye contact, his eyes flitting to examine the various soft curves of her face and the sharp fangs she bared. He didn’t respond, as if he was weighing his options. He shifted slightly in her grasp, reaching for something hidden in his clothes. As soon as Pepper spotted the glint of metal she grabbed the hand holding the knife, pinning his wrist to the wall. In his hand he gripped a kitchen knife, eyes wild with terror.

“I treat you like a prince, and this is how you treat me in return?” she snarled, grabbing the knife with her free hand and tossing it aside. “I take you out, I feed you and I don't lock you up or hurt you and you want to try some shit? You’ve been so disobedient all week… I guess I can't just trust you, huh?”

“I’m sorry, it was a lapse in judgment, I didn’t mean it!” 

She huffed, still tightly gripping his wrist as she dragged him along behind her to her office. The walls were decorated with various taxidermy pieces, and her desk was well organized with various scalpels and other tools. Ren’s eyes widened as she tossed him into the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. He fell roughly onto the floor, yelping in pain. She hadn’t been this rough with him since he tried kidnapping her the first time they met. Sure, she’d smacked him around a bit during the beginning weeks, but nothing this intense. 

“I’ve tried being nice, but clearly that isn’t going to work anymore. You’ve been disobedient all week, so it looks like you need to be taught a lesson. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be a waste.” Pepper got to work grabbing supplies as Ren trembled on the cold hardwood floor. “Strip,” she demanded, pointing a scalpel in his direction.

He quickly began peeling off the various layers of clothes, gently setting them next to him. At least he knew that if he damaged the outfit in any way he’d be getting an even harsher punishment. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his tail around his legs as he sat there, naked and shivering. Pepper knelt down in front of him, setting down a few different tools to the side. She grabbed his knees and pushed his legs back down, promptly sitting on his skinny legs and narrowing her eyes. He tried to shift, clearly uncomfortable at the sudden weight atop his legs, but at this point he knew better than to comment. 

“Now, tell me exactly what you were thinking would happen with your little plan, darling,” she hummed, grabbing the scalpel and glancing at the various scars littering his body. 

“I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I just wanted to go out by myself, I didn’t have a plan. I’m sorry..!” 

“You know you could have just asked me to take you out,” Pepper stated matter-of-factly, pressing the scalpel into his shoulder blade and slowly sliding it through his skin to create a thin, long cut, made with expert precision. It wasn’t deep enough to cause any real problems, but it was deep enough to sting. He winced, gritting his teeth. 

“I.. I know.” 

“And yet…” she tsked, shaking her head. “You know, I don’t want to have to do this. But you’ve really given me no choice at this point. If you won’t be an obedient little doll, I’ll make you into one my damn self.” She grinned as she carefully, lightly cut across his joints, as if butchering an animal. She never went too deep, but enjoyed watching the blood well up. Pepper licked away the blood wherever she cut, licking her lips as if she was enjoying a delicacy of a treat; well, she basically was, anyway. 

Ren shuddered and shivered underneath her with each lap of her tongue, squirming and panting. Pepper barked out a laugh, biting harshly at his neck, easily leaving a harsh, deep bite mark behind and he keened. “This isn’t supposed to be a reward, my little doll,” she hummed thoughtfully, wondering how else she could punish him without causing too much damage. She peeled herself away from him, pulling him by his legs so that they were resting in her lap. He let out a noise of surprise as he plopped onto his back, head bonking slightly on the floor. 

“This is going to hurt, darling. But just remember, you did this to yourself,” she announced, and he looked at her questioningly before screeching in pain and clawing at the hardwood as she tightly gripped his thigh in one hand and his calf in the other, pulling hard enough to dislocate the joints. She’d used her knee to brace his leg against as she did so, feeling around to ensure she hadn’t damaged a tendon. Though, what did it matter if she had? She repeated this on his other leg, then moved to the ankles. Ren sobbed openly in between shrieks and cries for her to stop. He clearly wasn’t used to this sort of pain, having passed out by the second ankle. Once she was sure of proper dislocation, she stood, brushing herself off and picking Ren up bridal style to put him to bed. 

Pepper gently redressed him into fresh pajamas, bandaging his cuts. She loosely wrapped his knees and ankles in ace bandages, finally tucking him into bed. Looks like her doll was going to need more training than she thought.

#selfship.jpeg #ren hana #ren btd #pepper and ren #pepren #ren.jpeg #btd self insert #writing.jpeg

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestone smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddlestone angst #tom hiddlestone imagine #tom hiddlestone x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fulff #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #thor: ragnarok

[thefanficmonster]

Could you possibly do something like the reader gets injured and they get really protective? with jason kolchek 

I'd be more than happy to! What do you say about a set of headcanons?😏 Enjoy 💕

Pairing: Jason Kolchek x Reader (Gender Neutral) [The Dark Pictures Anthology: House of Ashes]

Warnings: SPOILERS for the game House of Ashes, Injury, Mentions of blood and bruises, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Comfort Fluff

- You are clumsy, it ain't a secret you are able to keep

- A cut while chopping something in the kitchen every now and then 

- Bumping into the side of a table or chair while rushing around the house etc.

- However, surprisingly enough, that has never affected your performance in the Marines where you serve alongside your boyfriend who also lives with you and has noticed your clumsy tendencies which is why he too is quite surprised with how careful you are during training and missions

- Although, to be fair, it’s a whole different environment and the stakes are a lot higher, especially on missions where you usually have people’s live counting on you and your resilience and skill

- Regardless of how careful you are, Jason, your boyfriend, would prefer to never leave your side even when your team finds themselves in a situation that needs them to split up

- This time, however, he had no choice

- The team was brought to investigate the stash of weapons the Iraqi army had to use against the US but unfortunately they came across a lot greater of a threat, one they were not prepared for

- And, when the ground collapsed from underneath them, you and Lieutenant Kolchek were inevitably separated

- You can’t recount how long you were out exactly but when you came to you found yourself by Clarice’s side who seemed just as banged up as you

- Unfortunately, none of her major injuries hindered her from moving around and/or running

- You, on the other hand, had a broken leg, a broken rib, dislocated knee on the unbroken leg and many other injuries you couldn’t pin point

- You just knew that you were in pain

- And yet you still cracked your knee back in place and relied on that leg to carry you through the confusing catacombs, using Clarice as support as you were getting used to the pain that got a hiss and a curse out of you with each step

- The adrenaline was still running through your veins so you didn’t even notice half of the other injuries you had but maybe that was for the better

- On the other side of the chaos was Jason who woke up with only one thing in mind: you

- You and your safety

- The thought of you getting injured had him springing up to his feet in no time

- You hade fallen a couple hundred feet lower which is why your injuries were so severe, much more than the others but Jason didn’t know that as he began searching the ‘floor’ he was on for you, thinking the entire team had landed at the same depth

- You and Clarice were soon reunited with Eric and Rachel while Jason found Nick and Merwin and the each group found their way to maneuver around with Jason growing more and more worried by the second

- The Sergeant and the Corporal tried comforting him but it was pointless

- Until he saw you he wouldn’t be able to calm down

- Which is ironic cause when he finally saw you he almost fainted as a result of the pain in his chest

- The state you were in was far from good but you were still conscious and coherent so that was at least the slightest bit comforting to the team

- “It’s almost over, Y/N. We’ll be out of here in no time, darling, just hold on a little longer, ok? Just a little longer.” He assured and reassured you a countless amount of times and all you could do is nod because you knew he’d lecture you if you were to be honest and say you didn’t care if you made it as long as he did

- In that moment, all that mattered to you was his safety

- That’s the type of relationship you two have

- Neither of you worries enough about themselves but you worry for each other enough to make up for that

- “Look on the bright side, Jason.” You chuckled as you limped your way further, guided by the Colonel, “This time I didn’t trip on my own.”

- That actually got a laugh out of him despite the circumstances

- That’s the power you have on him, make him or break him so easily

@hopeveon  @artlovingbre  @megandaisy9  @sparrow-gg  @lavadoge  @nyctophiliiiiaaa   @squirreljoe  @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#the dark pictures #the dark pictures man of medan #the dark pictures anthology little hope #the dark pictures little hope #the dark pictures anthology #house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology house of ashes #the dark pictures house of ashes #house of ashes jason #jason kolchek #jason kolchek x reader #jason x reader #jason kolchek fanfic #jason kolchek imagine #eric king #rachel king #nick kay #salim othman #supermassive games #supermassive #video games #video game fanfic #video game headcanons #headcanons #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #reader #x reader

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 6

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Comfort~

Damian! for your own health and safety stop trying to KILL Marinette!!!

Ao3

First <Previous > Next

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

“Marinette you need to call them,”

Marinette buries her head deeper in the pillow, Adrien tries to pull it away from her.

“Marinette you need to call them,”

Adrien starts leaning his weight into taking it away, Marinette holds tight getting dragged across and half off the bed.

“Marinette if you don't call them I’m going to call them myself,” Adrien threatens, letting go of the pillow and leaving her half hanging off.

“Nooooo,” Marinette moans nose smooshed into the floor.

“Your parents are nice,” Adrien pats her on the back.

“You’ve never seen them angry,”

“They aren’t going to be angry, they're going to be angry if you don't call,”

“Nooooo,”

“... Ops too late I dialed,”

“What?!” Marinette leaps up catching the phone as Adrien drops it.

“You’ll thank me later~” Adrien dances out of the room followed by the Kwamis leaving her all on her lonesome.

“Hello?” Tom’s voice cuts through Marinette's panicking.

“Hi Papa,” Marinette cringes shifting herself back onto the bed.

“Marinette? Marinette! Are you ok sweetie? what's wrong, are you safe, where are you, how can we-”

“I’m ok Papa, I promise,” She relaxes a bit, Adrien was right, for now.

“Oh sweetie, what happened can we talk about- Sabine! Sabine! It’s Marinette! Marinette called!”

“Marinette? Are you safe honey,” Marinette lets go of the breath she was holding at her Maman's concern.

“I’m safe Maman, I’m staying with the Waynes,” She'd ask how exactly Sabine managed to set that up another time.

“Darling, why did you leave?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Saying shes on a top-secret mission or can't tell them because it will put them in danger is useless, it’ll just make them ask more she has to completely shut them do- “The sunsets where it rises,”

“... What ,” Marinette cringes at the sharp tone.

“You used to tell me that when there was something you couldn't tell me, for good reason, well now it’s my turn,” Marinette had long suspected what exactly that code meant, but knew enough it meant you didn't ask questions, and you didn't use it lightly, “The sunsets where it rises,”

“Alright, alright I get it please don't repeat that,” Sabine shushes her, “Marinette it can not be used lightly, in fact, you shouldn't be using it,”

“I need to Maman, and I'm not using it lightly, I just need you to trust me, I can handle this but I need to do it without you,” Marinette sighs, she wished she could tell them everything, “I promise when I can I will explain everything, for now, I can’t come back to Paris,”

“Alright Marinette, if you're sure about this,” Tom agrees, Sabine still mulling over it.

“I am,”

“And your smart about it,” Sabine stresses, “Honey even if you can't come back to Paris we can come to you,”

“That's alright Maman, I’ll work better knowing your both safe in Paris,” Marinette relaxes back into the bed, waves of exhaustion washing over her, “Please stay in Paris for me,”

“Alright sweetie we will, just make sure to call us,” Tom soothes her, Marinette could almost fall asleep like this.

“I will,”

“Everyday,”

“I’ll try,” Marinette smiles at his demand.

“Get some sleep darling,” Sabine comfort, Marinette seconds away from doing just that, “I’m sure you’ve earned it,”

“Night guys,”

“Good night sweetie,” Marinette lets the call drop, eyes drooping low.

The door slams open and she jumps up into a defensive position getting tangled in the sheets. She doesn't have a second to steady herself as she is tackled. Marinette kicks the attacker in the stomach using the distraction to roll them over so she’s on top. She miscalculates sending them both off the bed. Marinette's side hits the ground, she groans opening her eyes to see who attacke-

“Damian?!”

“You’re an assassin!” He lunges, Marinette dosages out the way, going again for his stomach but he catches her leg this time.

“What the?” He tries to pin her but she twists her leg to get free and rolls away into a couched position, “I’m not an assassin!”

“You’re here to kill them,” Damian sends a kick her way she dodges, using the momentum to stand up and get on even ground.

“I’m not going to kill anyone!” Marinette snaps, striking first, taking the element of surprise and managing to get him in a hold, “Never have never will,”

“You were raised by one,” Damian tries to get out of her hold, she pulls tighter on his arm in warning, “You can’t be as good as you act,”

“Maybe my Maman was an assassin,” There was certainly no way a baker should know her skills, “But she changed and certainly never wanted me to be one,”

“Tt,” Damian scoffs, trying to break out of the hold with raw strength, little did he know she had him soundly beat in that department, “There's no way, no matter how hard she tries it doesn't change who she is; a killer,”

Marinette is filled with a white-hot rage before dousing it with years of practice. Damian gives up on strength starting a more covert way of getting out, if he finds the right angle he can dislocate his wrist then get the leverage he needs to get free. It was a move her Maman had shown her when teaching her this move, getting out of Marinette's hold by dislocating her wrist without flinching. It had made Marinette think that dislocation wasn't painful, even less so when her Mana had reset it herself without flinching. Then years later while they were still little Kim had fallen in the playground and cried his eyes out when his wrist was dislocated, then had screamed when it was reset. After that Marinette had figured her Maman wasn't all she had seemed.

“Damian, are you an assassin?”

“...”

“Don’t hurt your wrist, I’m going to let you out just don't attack me again,” Marinette relaxes enough so if he wanted to Damian could break out and if she wanted to she could pull him back into the hold, it was a test of trust on both sides, “Damian I’m not an assassin and I wasn't sent here to hurt anyone, I didn’t even intend to be here that just how the cards fell,”

“You expect me to believe that?” He doesn't try to break out but he certainly doesn't relax, "You show up in Gotham then your Mother threatens us to take you in,"

Threatens huh? yeah, that made more sense.

“No, of course I don’t expect you to trust me,” Marinette says gently, “Your families safety is on the line, I expect you to do whatever it takes to keep them safe,”

“...”

“You can change who you are you know,” she did it every day when she became Ladybug, and overtime the line between Ladybug and Marinette had blurred, “My Maman is the kindest person I know, she’s full of compassion and joy no matter what she did in the past, and above all, she cares about me, she cares about her family, just like you,”

“That doesn't change anything,”

“It doesn't change what you did, but it can change what you choose to do,” Marinette rubs her thumb comfortingly over where its clasped on his wrist, “And that can mean a whole lot more that what you were forced to do,”

“... let me go,” Marinette obliges and they both sit up, neither starting a conversation.

Marinette studies Damian, a severe contemplative look on his face. She's sure to others it would look like a scowl, but Kagami isn't very good at expressing herself outwardly so Marinette had learned to read between the lines, and the lines say a lot. Then there's the little fact that Bruce Wayne's son is an assassin and maybe she should be slightly more worried about Bruce himself. She rethinks all their other interactions, framing it with the new information his attitude suddenly makes a lot more sense, and is even admirable in a way.

Something catches the corner of her eye and she spots a camera peaking from the edge of the still-open door.

“Adrien!” She shouts, making Damian jump a bit which she silently finds funny in an endearing way. The phone disappears and Marinette runs to the door where Adrien is already booking it down the hall, “Adrien get back here!”

Marinette gives chase, intent on making him delete whatever picture he took no matter how cute he thinks they are. In her haste, she leaves Damian alone to his thoughts. Yet still, he's more at peace than he has ever been.

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

No taglist :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #mircaulous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #MLB #ML #ml fic #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 8/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 8: Keep Your Head Up

Emma stared out the window of the truck, watching the cabin grow smaller and smaller in the mirror. Jolly sat solemnly between them, his head in her lap. Killian glanced at her anxiously and she smiled at him, reaching over, and taking his hand. She expected him to pull away but instead he simply let her hand fall into his, looking down at their hands before turning his attention back to the road.

She was nervous about the meeting with her family. She wasn’t sure what they would expect of her. Would she remember who she was when she saw their faces? Would she know this Walsh person?

When they pulled off the dirt road onto the paved one into town she felt her heart beating harder. The truck turned onto one of the main roads of a small town and pulled to a stop in front of a row of motel rooms. The door swung open, and a woman came running through the opening. She looked like the lady in the photo with her. Her mother. She had no recollection of her. The void in her brain remained.

She was joined by a man, standing behind her. Her father.

“Do you recognize them?” He asked her.

“No.” She replied softly.

He released her hand and turned off the truck, turning toward her. “It’s going to be ok, Swan. I promise.”

“Please don’t leave me alone with them.” She said with a strangled cry.

“Let’s just start with talking to them, alright?”

She nodded and he opened the door to the truck, nodding to the couple standing anxiously in front of their room. He walked around the truck, opening the door to help Emma down from the vehicle. “Ok, love. You ready?”

She laughed. “Not at all. But I don’t suppose you’re going to take me home anyway.” She teased, trying to ignore they way she used the word home when describing Killian’s cabin.

She walked toward her parents, watching as her mother shifted on her feet, looking up at her husband with tears in her eyes. As Emma approached she stepped forward. “Oh Emma, we thought we lost you.” Emma froze as the woman embraced her, pulling away and leaning into Killian with her back.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“It’s ok, Killian told us you don’t remember anything.” Her father said solemnly, pulling his wife away from Emma. “Take your time, we want you to see your doctor, get checked out, but we want you to feel safe with us.”

She nodded, looking up at Killian who smiled genuinely at her. “See, nothing to worry about.” He whispered softly.

“There you are.” A voice from behind her came booming toward her, a pair of arms dragging her away from Killian and against his chest. “My darling Emma is home.” Emma pulled back, digging herself out of his embrace and retreating into Killian’s side. The man’s face scowled but then turned toward her parents. “I guess it will take time.” He shrugged. Turning back to face them he looked at Killian. “Thank you for returning my fiancé to me, we can take her from here.”

Killian paused. “Well, I want to ensure that she’s comfortable.”

“That won’t be necessary, she’s with her family now. Thank you for bringing her back where she belongs. I think you can go now.” He said with an air of petulance and arrogance.

“Well, I disagree.” Emma objected, staying rooted at Killian’s side.

Her father stepped forward. “Why don’t we get something to eat.” He turned toward Walsh, “Emma can bring Killian until she gets to know us.”

Jolly barked from his spot in the truck and Killian brushed a hand against his ear. “I uh, brought my dog.”

“I’m sure we can find somewhere that will let us bring a dog. After all you are a hero for finding our daughter.” Her mother beamed at Killian.

“Oh well, um, if Emma prefers.”

“I insist.” She said defiantly, staring at the man who she was supposed to marry.

“Then I guess we’re going to dinner.” He said with an air of annoyance.

Emma refused to ride with Walsh, climbing back into the truck despite her fiance’s protest.

“I don’t like him.” She said when Killian shut the driver’s side door. “He’s too stuffy. I wouldn’t date someone that….”

“Arrogant?” He said under his breath.

“Yes.” She nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

He sighed. “Look, if you were going to be my wife, and some man brought you back to me after I thought you were dead, and you didn’t remember me, I might feel a bit angry too.” He smiled softly at her and she relaxed into her seat.

“I guess.”

“Just give them a chance. Your folks seem nice.”

“Yeah, they seemed happy to see me.”

“Aye, they did.”

~*~

They pulled up to a small diner, and Killian put Jolly on his lead, taking him to the tables sitting outside overlooking the forest below. Emma sat next to him, her leg seeking out his under the table.

“So, how did you find her?” Her mother asked.

“Well Ma’am…”

“Oh please, Marg is fine. Ma’am makes me feel like I’m 82.” She laughed.

He chuckled. “I was fishing before the big storm, making sure I had enough protein to get through the rains, and I found her upstream in the creek against some rocks. She was banged up pretty bad.”

“And yet you didn’t get help.” Walsh interjected.

“As I was saying, there was a storm coming. It rained for a week, nearly flooded my cabin. The roads get washed out this time of year. I returned as soon as I was able.” He looked nervously at Emma, knowing part of the tale was not entirely true. He could have returned sooner had he not behaved selfishly.

“So, you’ve just been holed up in your cabin this entire time?” Her father asked.

“Aye. Once the roads cleared, I came into town, saw the flyer and called you.”

“I’m just so happy she was alright, and that she had someone to take care of her.” Her mother smiled.

“Killian bandaged me up and fixed up my leg.” Emma said proudly and Killian nervously smiled.

“Your leg?”

“She’ll need to get checked out by a Doctor, obviously I’m not one, but she had a dislocation.”

“We’ll get her the best help money can buy; she’ll be good as new.” Walsh said smugly. Killian hated men like him. Men who thought they could throw money at anything. His Swan wouldn’t be impressed by money. Sadly, he realized that she wasn’t his Swan anymore, she was Emma Nolan, and he had no idea what Emma Nolan was impressed by. Obviously by the looks of this man, she liked something about him.

“We will make sure she gets checked out, Killian.” Her mother said softly, reaching over to touch his hand. “I really do appreciate everything you did to take care of our Emma. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t found her. If anything had happened to her.”

“Aye, she’s a special girl. I’m happy I was able to return her.” He said honestly.

“We’ll return home at once.” Walsh announced and Emma flinched beside him.

“What?”

“We need to get you home, have your head looked at, find out why you can’t remember things.”

“When are we leaving?”

“We can leave in the morning.” Her father stated loudly, looking over at Walsh to show that it wasn’t a question.

Killian nodded, turning toward Emma. “You’ll be back in your bed tomorrow.” He smiled and Emma looked at him sadly.

They road back to the motel in silence, Emma wiping tears from her eyes the closer they got. When they exited the vehicle, Walsh was waiting for her. “Can we speak privately.” He asked.

“Um…” She looked at Killian.

“Go, he’s your fiancé, Swan.”

Emma hesitated but walked with him toward his room, turning around to apprehensively glance in his direction before entering the room.

~*~

Emma entered the room and the moment the door shut he pulled her into his arms. “I want to help you remember me.” She jerked away from Walsh, curling into herself in the corner of the room.

“Stop it.” She yelled and the man stepped away from her.

“Emma, darling, I love you. I’m the man who is going to marry you. Remember when I flew us to France, just to propose to you?”

She shook her head, images floating around like a puzzle that didn’t fit. “I don’t know.”

“Remember the nights on the Riviera?”

“Stop tossing thoughts at me, I can’t remember.” She said angrily.

“I can help.” He pushed toward her, bruising her lips against hers and she froze in fear, bringing her knee up to connect with his groin. The man keeled over, grabbing his crotch. “Jesus, Emma.” He fell toward the bed and Emma held up her hands.

“I’m sorry. You scared me. You can’t do that to me, I almost beat that guy at the bar on 5th because he touched my ass.” Emma stopped and stared. Wait, what? “Ruby.” She whispered. Suddenly the images started to move in her head, pictures lining up to form scenes of her life she had forgotten. Ruby Lucas, the man at the bar with the greasy hair. She kicked him in the nuts and Ruby tossed her beer in his face.

Other things started to form, her parents taking her for ice cream, playing with her best friends at the beach, having dinner with Walsh in some foreign country, the view of the water from her apartment, packing to leave for a trip.

The waterfall…

“Ok, be sexy.”

“There you go, make him want it.”

She remembered. “Oh my God, I remember the waterfall.”

~*~

Killian paced in front of the truck, staring toward the room that Emma had gone to. Her parents had excused themselves to pack while he waited for Emma to reappear. Instead, the door opened, and Walsh exited the room alone. He stepped toward him. The man reached into his jacket with a smile.

“Good news, she remembered the accident and is slowly piecing together her life. It’s all a bit tiring and she said she wanted to take a nap.”

Killian peered over the man’s shoulder at the closed door. “Well, that’s good news.”

“It is. She wanted me to tell you how much she appreciated what you did for her, but she’s good with you leaving now.”

“Oh.” He said, trying not to sound so disappointed.

“I wanted to make sure you got what you came for.” He leaned over his truck, pen in hand.

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

“The reward money of course. I’m sure a man like you thought he had won the lottery when you saw the dollar signs.”

“A man like me?”

“A convict.” He said with a menacing tone. “Ah yes, you see I looked you up when you called. I wouldn’t trust my future wife with just anyone, you know.”

Killian swallowed angrily. “Aye.”

“So, I figured you’d be happy to have your pay day.” He clicked his pen shut, slipping the check into his pocket. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to cash that and get back out of town. The Sheriff seemed eager for you not to spend too much time here. If you don’t want any trouble, you might want to take care of that quickly.” He patted his pocket where the check was burning a hole and turned to walk away. “Thanks again for bringing her home to me.” He winked and retreated into his room.

Killian climbed into his truck, slamming the door behind him. “Asshole.” Jolly jumped up and licked his face before whining at the empty side of the truck. “Yeah boy, she’s gone.”

He stared toward the motel, he supposed this was for the best. He could avoid any tearful goodbyes if he didn’t have to face her. Though it sounded like now that she remembered who she was, she didn’t need to say goodbye to him anyway. “Alright boy, let’s go home.” He said mournfully as he put the key in the ignition, backing up the truck to return home.

Villains don’t get a happy ending.

~*~

Emma sat on the bed staring at the wall as she tried to take in all the memories that were flooding her brain. She couldn’t keep up with all the feelings she was having. She was happy to remember her life, to fill in the pieces she couldn’t remember before. Yet, she felt like something else was missing, not fitting into the picture that was her life.

Killian.

The door opened and Walsh re-entered the room. She smiled at him, trying to find the feelings of love she should have after being reunited with him.

“Did you tell my parents?”

“Yes. They said to come over when you’ve rested.” He sat down on the bed next to her, “I was thinking, we should get married. Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to waste any more time. I thought you were dead and now here you are. It’s a miracle and I don’t want to wait.”

“Walsh, I’m still healing, I look terrible.”

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Emma frowned.

“I need to take care of some things first.” She stood up, pacing the room. “Maybe I should go say goodbye to Killian.”

“Oh, darling he left.” He said calmly. “Once he got the reward money, he seemed eager to get out of here.”

“Reward money?”

“Yes, a lot of it honestly. I spared nothing to get you back. I’m sure the money will keep him out of trouble for years to come.”

“He just left?”

“Why would he stay, Emma? He got what he wanted.” Her heart hurt, he just left her. Why wouldn’t he say goodbye? She stood up from the bed, wiping her face.

“I’m gonna go see my parents.” She replied, her voice wavering. He walked toward her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m going to make some calls, find out what we need to get married in the morning.” He kissed her forehead and Emma closed her eyes. Her heart hurt and she just needed space. Stepping out of his embrace, she pulled the door open and stepped into the breeze. Killian’s truck was gone. He really had left her. Like she meant nothing to him at all.

She wrapped her arms around herself, sucking in a deep breath and walking to the room next door and knocking on the door. Her mother swung the door open with a smile.

“Emma.”

Emma wrapped her arms around the woman, tears springing in her eyes. “Mom.” Her father was standing behind her and Emma reached out her arm, welcoming her father’s warm embrace as the three of them stood in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” Her father asked. “I’m sure this has been challenging to suddenly remember an entire lifetime.

Emma laughed through her tears. “It’s a bit much, honestly.” She stepped into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just an hour ago I had no idea what my first name was. I’d been living in a cabin in the middle of the forest with a dog and a man I had just met but who felt like the only person I knew my entire life.”

“Killian seemed like a nice man.”

Emma smiled happily. “He was very kind.”

“Ruby and Belle are going to be so relieved to see you. They’ve been feeling so guilty for weeks.”

“Well, it was my stupid clumsiness that caused this mess.” She laughed, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “I should have known better than to wade out into that water.”

“Well, at least we have you back now.” Her father nodded.

“We just need to get you home; let you rest up and figure out what you want to do next with your life.”

“Walsh wants to get married in town tomorrow.” She announced with a sigh.

“What? Isn’t that pushing things a bit too fast. You still need to see a doctor, get checked out.” Her father was rambling as he started to head to the door, no doubt to have a word with her fiancé.

“Emma, what do you want?” Emma frowned.

“I don’t know. I mean…I should have been married already, it’s just…”

“You were already having second thoughts before…” Her mother said softly, and her father spun around to look at them both.

“You were having second thoughts?”

She leaned into her mother’s shoulder. “I think having the both of you as parent’s really ruins a woman’s expectation for a partner.” Her mother laughed. “You guys are so perfect for each other. I just…I want that for myself too.”

“And you don’t have that with Walsh?” Her father inquired.

“No, I mean…I don’t know.” She frowned. “Maybe I’m just confusing things because of the accident and everything that happened while I stopped being Emma Nolan.”

“What happened, baby?” Her mom moved her hair off of her forehead, cradling her into her side.

“I just, maybe I found this whole other person in there and I know she’s not real or she wasn’t real, or she wasn’t the person I’ve always been but I’m having a hard time just forgetting about the things she wanted.”

“Emma you were only gone for a month. Maybe you shouldn’t base your entire life’s decisions on something that happened to you for four weeks.” Her dad tried to counter.

“Four weeks felt like a whole new lifetime to me dad. I felt things that I’ve never felt before. Even now, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so free in my entire life than I did in that cabin.”

“Emma does this have anything to do with that man. Killian?” Her dad sat down next to her.

“No. Well I guess in some way, but not entirely.” She frowned. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Why do you say that sweetie?” Her dad ran his hand across her back and Emma melted into him the way she did when she was a child, curling into his lap and falling asleep while he read her a bedtime story.

“He left without saying goodbye.” Her parents looked at each other and her mother stood up and walked to the table, picking something up and walking over to her.

“Not entirely.” She said quietly, pushing the paper into her hand. “Maybe she wants a moment alone.” Her mother said to her father as they stood from the bed and left Emma staring down at the folded paper, recognizing the handwriting that was scrolled on it.

Her father kissed her forehead and left the room with her mom, shutting the door behind her.

Emma unfolded the paper, holding her breath as she read the note left for her.

Swan,

I intended to say goodbye, but I understand why you couldn’t. I want you to know that I will never forget you, these past few weeks have brought light back into my heart. There’s not a day will go by I won’t think about you. I will always find you in my dreams, my beautiful Swan.

Love,

Killian

Emma’s tears were flowing freely down her face as she clutched the paper in her hand. Turning it over, she saw Walsh’s handwriting on the check made out to Killian Jones in the amount of $500,000.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, Killian didn’t take the money.

The door opened and Emma looked up to see her father enter the room. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were… Emma? He stopped when he saw her face and pulled his daughter into his arms. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know what to do.” She cried leaning into his embrace.

“Do you love Walsh?” His lips grazed her forehead, pressing against her. It was a question she knew the answer to long before she left her apartment a month ago.

“No.”

“Are you sure you’re not just feeling that way because of the accident? Because you are confused?”

“I don’t think I ever truly loved him, daddy.” She sniffled.

“Then why on earth were you marrying him?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, because he said all the right things, knew all the right people, and you and mom were so happy for me.”

“Emma…” He looked at her, his face soft yet full of worry, “The only reason we were happy for you is because we thought you loved him, that you wanted to be with him.”

“But you love Walsh.”

“The only reason I loved him is because my daughter wanted to marry him. To be honest, I always thought you could do better.”

She snorted, burying her face in the crook of her father’s neck. “I don’t want to marry him.”

“Then that’s settled.” He said with a shrug. “Will that make you stop crying?”

“No.” She cried.

“Is this about the man who found you? Killian Jones?”

“Oh daddy.” She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Emma, you only knew him for a month.”

“I know. I can’t explain it, I just…” She sighed. “I feel it. In my heart. Like if I walk away without talking to him that I’m always going to be chasing this nagging feeling that there’s something I’m missing. Some part of me that’s never going to be whole again.”

“You know, when your mother and I were dating, she left me.”

“What?” Emma sat up and stared at her father, wide eyed.

“I know, not a part of the story we share. But she did. For a week. She was upset with me because of an ex-girlfriend. She thought I still had feelings for the woman. So, she left.”

“Mom never mentioned that at all. So, did you? Have feelings for her?”

“No. I loved your mother, but at one time I was engaged to this other woman and I guess things just got confusing for a time.”

“So how did you find your way back to mom?”

“Something was missing, a piece of my heart never returned because she had it with her. I tried to give her space, but I couldn’t let it be, because without her I wasn’t myself. I could never be myself because a part of me will always be attached to her.”

“True love.” She said softly. “You and mom.”

“Your mom is my soulmate.”

She hugged her father, comforted by his arms. “He didn’t take the money.” She said softly.

He sighed. “Emma, Walsh told us he’s a convict.”

“I know. He told me everything. He didn’t hold back because he wanted to ensure that I returned to my life, because he believed that it was better than what he could offer me.”

“Maybe he has a point, what exactly can he offer you, Emma?”

“Happiness.” She smiled.

“Just…” He paused, running his fingers through her hair like he did when she was little. “Sleep on it, Emma. When you wake up, you’ll know what your heart wants. Never make important decisions without rest.”

Emma sighed. “I love you daddy.” She squeezed him tighter, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“I love you, my sweet girl.”

Emma took the second bed in her parents’ room, keeping her distance from Walsh. She needed to sleep, to let her mind rest. Her father was right, she couldn’t make important decisions without giving her heart a rest.

#stacy's fics #waterfall memories #emma swan #killian swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan #captain swan modern au

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival!  This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party.  I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset.  Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?”  Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.”  Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings  - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots.  Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out.  Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel.  The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.”  Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite.  When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really.  You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight.  Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted - 

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own.  This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from  collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before  giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting.  Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia.  The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered.  The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music.  Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam. 

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[xxwritemeastoryxx]

So Close

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Jackson Kenner x Labonair!Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Season rewrite, character death, canon typical blood and gore, there are no happy moments in this. 

Author’s Note: Here is the third installment of Angst. Just some notes before you guys dive into this. The reader is Hayley’s younger sister and is currently married to Jackson. This is a bit of a series rewrite, reader takes Hayley’s spot for the most part. At least util I take the reigns for some divergence. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

“Remind me again, why we are moving out of the Bayou and into the French Quarter?” Jackson asked as he followed Y/N out of their house in the Bayou, loading up a truck full of their things.

“Because Hayley asked us nicely.” Y/N said as she placed a box into the back of the truck and turned to look at him. “We agreed because we both know it would give Hope and Hayley as safe space.” A smirk pulled at her lips. “Plus you know I’m a sucker for having my niece around.”

Jackson chuckled as he came to stand beside her, placing the box he held into the back of the truck. “Oh I know. It’s just going to be different being in the city.”

Y/N gave him a small smile and placed her hand on his cheek. “We’ll make this work. We can always come back out here if we need time to ourselves.”

Jackson would have chuckled at Y/N’s words if hadn’t been for the wolfsbane filled dart that shot right into his neck, causing him to groan. Y/N’s eyes widened as he did.

“Jack?” Her eyes searched his face for only a moment, before she heard the sounds of another headed in her direction.

With quick movements, Y/N had been able to stop the dart from ever hitting her. Tossing it to the ground, she turned back to make sure Jackson was alright. But before she could, the sound of several more darts being shot at once filled their ears, before they pierced their skin. Their eyes met for only a moment before they both fell as darkness filled them.

____

Pain radiated through Y/N as she came to. The damage that had been done to her while unconscious was now evident in the blood and bruises that covered her skin. The slightest movement caused a shot of pain to run through her body. The more she came to, the more panicked she became.

Her first instinct was to pull her wrists free from their restraints, but no matter how many times she tried, they only clanged against the metal of the chair she was confined to. With each try she felt weaker.

“I tried that.” Jackson’s voice had been mixed in with the sounds of Y/N trying to get free, she hadn’t heard him the first time. “I tried that.” He said again getting her attention. “The more you struggle, the more wolfsbane gets pumped into your veins.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at not only his words but how badly beaten he looked. Her eyes moved to the IV lines that had been right next to Jackson. One line led straight for her and the other went to Jackson. “Jack, we have to at least try to get out of-” That had been when her eyes landed on the pool of blood at Jackson’s feet. “Your leg.” Her eyes shot up to his.

Jackson shook his head. “Yeah, they worked me over pretty good. With all the...” He took a moment to catch his breath. “the wolfsbane in my system, I ain’t healing so well.”

Y/N shook her head. “There has to be a way.” She began looking around the room, hoping to find something, anything that would be able to get them out of their current situation. “There’s always something.”

“The wolfsbane is going to make it a whole hell of a lot harder to do anything.” Jackson noted.

He was trying to keep his voice calm for his wife. But there was something inside of him that told him they were stuck as they were. And while he wouldn’t admit it in that moment, he knew his time was running out. With how much blood he lost and the wolfsbane keeping him from healing, his thoughts were heading in a dark direction.

Y/N’s eyes snapped over to Jackson. She had never heard him sound so defeated before. “Jack, you have to trust me that we’ll get out of here.”

“I always trust you.” He said giving her a broken smile.

The moment he had, her heart filled with pain. They wouldn’t have been in this situation if it hadn’t been for her. She knew this was the consequences for helping her sister out. “This is my fault, I’m gonna get us out of here.” She promised.

“This isn’t your fault.” He said as he watched her begin to look around the room. “We’ve found ourselves in the middle of a war between the Mikaelsons and their sires. Your sister was only helping them and you with her. Don’t think for a second this is your fault.”

Y/N felt her eyes fill with tears as she tried to blink them back. She looked down at the ground before her as she did. “We’ll play the blame game later. I just need to find us a way out of this.” Her eyes moved to her restraints and a thought formed as she had. “Oh this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Worse than turning?” Jackson asked with a chuckle. He knew the moment Y/N had an idea. He could see it in the ay her expression turned from worry to calm instantly. And if there was a way to keep her calm  for as long as he could, he’d do that.

“No, but with the wolfsbane, it’s not going to be any easier.” She said as she looked over at him for only a moment before looking back at her hand.

Taking a deep breath, she began pulling her arm up, causing the shackles to reach her wrist. The further she pulled her arm, back, the more the shackle began to bite into her skin as she tried to pull her wrist through.

The whole time she did, her mind reminded her of how Hayley had shown her how to do this. The memory the only thing making it possible. Hayley’s words playing in her head. ‘If there is one thing I’m going to show you, it might as well be this.’

With a muffled cry, Y/N dislocated her thumb, making it easier to manipulate and pull the rest of her hand through the shackle. The sound of the metal hit the ground, and she took a deep breath. Even with her thumb still dislocated, she reached up and pulled the IV out of her arm.

“That’s my girl.” Jackson mumbled as he gave her a smile.

A small smile pulled at her lips as she looked over at him. “Told you I’d come up with something.” Popping her thumb back into place, she repeated the process with her other hand. This time she hadn’t been met with resistance from the wolfsbane entering her system.

The moment she was free, she moved over to Jackson. The first thing she did was pull the IV out of him as well. While he may have had more of it running through his system than she had, it was still going to take him a lot longer to heal because of his injuries.

Grabbing the nearest free piece of fabric, she made a tourniquet out of it. Jackson already lost a lot of blood as it was, she didn’t need him losing any more of it. “We don’t know when they’ll be back, so we need to be quick about this.” She said as she looked up at him.

“Do it.” He nodded his head. He wanted her to do the same thing she had in order to get free, but he knew he couldn’t do it himself. Not in the state he was in.

Y/N braced her self as she brought her hands to his. With one quick movement, she had his thumbs dislocated. His cry of pain caused Y/N to bite down on her lips, attempting to keep her own cry at bay. She hated that this was what they needed to do to be free.

“I’m okay.” He said a moment later. “I’ll heal faster once this is out of my system.”

Y/N nodded her head as she removed the chains from around his ankles before helping him up. He brought his arm up around her shoulders as she helped support him. “As soon as we are away, I’ll call Hayley.”

“We’ll worry about that once we’re out.” Jackson said as he held on to her and tried his best to help support himself.

The two managed to get out of the building that they had been in. But they hadn’t gotten far before Jackson needed a break from walking. Y/N set him down behind a tree, hoping to keep him hidden.

“You should go on without me.” Jackson said the moment he was settled.

Y/N was already shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. “I’m not leaving you here.” She knelt in front of him.

“I can hardly walk, Y/N/N.” He said as he looked up at her, his hand coming up to run along her cheek. “We’ve left a blood trail to here. Even if we don’t have wolfsbane being pumped into us, I’m not gonna be able to heal without rest. It will give you a chance to get away.”

“No.” She shook her head once more. “Leaving you is a possible death sentence and I’m not about to do that to you.”

“I’d rather it be me than you.” His eyes met hers. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Jack, even if we have to fight our way through, we’ll make it home.” Y/N refused to believe that they made it this far for them to not make it out. They just had to get a little bit farther, and they’d be okay.

“We both know I wouldn’t make it through a fight.” He shook his head. “Not like this, Not this injured. I love you.” His eyes searched her face for a moment. “I’ve always loved you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t-”

“Even as kids, I loved you.” He continued despite Y/N not wanting him to continue. “What we’ve had between us, I wouldn’t give that up for anything. Every moment, every touch, every word.” He stopped for a moment to get himself in control. “You’ve been the best part of me and while I will sure as hell fight by your side if needed, we both know it’s not going to end well if they catch up with us.”

“Stop, Jack.” She moved out of his hold, attempting to keep her lips from trembling. “You are going to rest a few more minutes, and we are both going to get out of here, even if I have to drag you out of here to make sure you are safe.”

“How absolutely darling! Or pathetic. I suppose it’s all relative.” Tristan’s words filled the air, causing both of them to notice they were now surrounded.

A member of the Strix pulled Y/N away from Jackson, leaving Jackson struggling to get up to try and get her back. Y/N fought against their hold but it hadn’t been enough. They kept her out of Jackson’s reach as Tristan’s pulled Jackson up.

“You’ve already done enough to him, leave him alone.” Y/N said as she tugged herself against their hold. “You’re doing this because of what I helped Hayley do. This has nothing to do with him.”

“Y/N.” Jackson said shaking his head, already knowing where her mind was going.

Tristan chuckled as he kept his hold on Jackson. “This was always about how you helped tortured me. I’ve been pondering this moment since then. The best way to hurt your sister would have been to take your life, leaving her an orphan after finally reuniting with you. But you have another use for me. You on the other hand, it was rather easy to figure out how to hurt you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words before she even seen him move. Tristan’s hand shoved into Jackson’s chest causing Jackson to groan in pain. At the same time, Y/N screamed as she fought against the members of the Strix’s hold.

“Please don’t.” She begged. Anything to get him to stop and leave Jackson alone.

But Tristan hadn’t cared. He pulled his arm out, along with Jackson’s heart before letting his body fall to the ground. It was only then they had released her. Her cries and screams blended in together as she rushed over to his body.

“No, no, no.” She said as she placed her hands on his face. Her body shaking as she tried to find someway to bring him back.

Tristan nodded his head towards the others and began walking away. As Y/N felt their hands on her, she tried fighting them off, wanting to stay by Jackson’s side. But in the end, she lost the fight as they dragged her back, kicking and screaming.

_____

Hayley, Elijah and Vincent walked into the courtyard to find Freya standing there. While they were trying to finalize plans with Vincent, seeing the way Freya was currently clutching her chest with one hand caused them to re prioritize.

Hayley noticed that Freya had been looking at the small box that had been sitting on the table. Her eyes quickly moved back to Freya noticing the piece of parchment in her hand. Worry had filled not only Hayley, but Elijah as well.

“What is it?” Hayley asked as she and Elijah came to her side.

Freya took a breath, her eyes had been filled with tears. “A messenger came.” That caused concerned looked to form on Hayley and Elijah. “Some compelled tourist,” she added in quickly. “He left this...” Freya gestured towards the box.

Hayley moved to look in the box, but Elijah stopped her. Taking a step towards it, he gently lifted the lid of the box while Hayley and Vincent watched from behind. From where Hayley stood she could clearly see what was in side of it. Seeing the bloody heart in it caused Hayley to look elsewhere while Elijah closed the box.

“Who?” Elijah asked looking over at his sister.

Freya looked to Elijah before looking over at Hayley. “Jackson.” Hayley’s eyes widened as she looked over at Freya. Fear coursed through Hayley as she took in the words. If that was Jackson’s heart, where was her sister at? “Courtesy of the Strix.” Freya continued as she held up the letter.

Again, before Hayley could make a move to retrieve the letter, Elijah had stopped her, especially now. If Y/N was in any kind of danger, he didn’t need Hayley running off without thinking clearly.

Elijah looked to Hayley as he took the letter and read it out loud for Hayley’s sake. “Dearest friends, please find enclosed the heart of Jackson. Y/N’s will follow unless you meet me at Coltrane’s Autoshop. Kind regards, Tristan.” Elijah sighed.

“So unless we meet their demands, my sister is next.” Hayley said as she looked at Elijah who already seemed to be thinking of a plan.

Y/n felt numb. Even as they dragged her out of the room in her shackles once more, she didn’t care what happened to her. After they had placed her back and with both IV bags flowing into her, she fought as hard as she could to get back to Jackson. But the more she struggled, the worse she became.

Her drugged state and the numbness she felt had made it even more difficult to register the fact she heard her sister’s voice, along with Klaus and Elijah’s. They were in reach, but she couldn’t get her vision to focus. All she could see in her mind was Jackson’s heart being pulled out on followed by being dragged away from him on repeat.

Her lips trembled as she tried to fight through the haziness the wolfsbane had created and the tears that wanted to so desperately form in her eyes. But there was nothing. Even as she picked up and practically tossed at someone, none of it had registered in her mind.

“You’re safe.” Hayley’s words held some comfort. “We’re going to flush your system. Get you feeling better.”

Y/N hadn’t even realized her sister had been carrying her away from wherever it was they were now. The last thing Y/N in conscious state was her whispering Jackson’s name.

_____

Y/N jolted up in bed as woke up a few hours later. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together where she was currently. Her heart raced as she took in the familiar surrounding of her home out in the Bayou.

Hayley moved to sit down next to her the moment she had. Her heart hurt for her sister. This whole time Hayley had been off trying to find a way to keep the Mikaelsons safe, she had forgotten to check in on her own sister. She’d been missing and she hadn’t even known.

“Hey, Y/N/N.” She said softly. “You’re safe.”

Her words had cause Y/N’s eyes to land on Hayley and really focus on her. “Hayley,” Her lips began trembling as the events from the day came flooding back. “Jackson. He’s gone.”

Hayley bit down on her lip as she pulled her sister into her tightly. “I know. And I am so sorry for bringing you into this. You two would have been safe if I hadn’t asked you to help.”

“We were out.” Y/N shook her head. Hayley’s head tilted as she listened to her sister. “We escaped. We were so close to being able to call for help.” Her lips trembled. “He-he wanted me to leave him behind and I couldn’t. Tristan killed him in front of me. All because I helped you. If I hadn’t, it would have been me.” The words sounded numb to even Hayley the moment they passed Y/N’s lips. “It hurt’s so much I can’t even feel anything else.”

Hayley placed her hands on either side of her sister’s face, forcing her to look at her. “And that is okay. After everything you’ve been through today, I don’t expect any other emotion to be there. I know this is because of me that this happened to Jack. I won’t stop until I make it up to you in some way.”

The sound of the knock at the door caused them both to look towards the door. Elijah’s head popped in a moment later, giving Hayley a nod. She returned the nod and looked back at Y/N.

“The pack is outside.” She said the moment she had Y/N’s attention again. “You were out for some time, but they wanted to make sure everything was taken care of.”

Understanding filled Y/N, and she couldn’t stop the tears from forming or even falling. “How am I supposed to do this?”

A sigh passed Hayley’s lips as she took hold of Y/N’s hand. “After losing quite a few people, I learned that the best way to do this, is to start with saying goodbye. That’s what tonight is about. But after that, you are allowed to heal any way you need to. No one will dare judge you for not being strong.”

Y/N nodded her head. She could do that just for tonight. She could make it through the night to give herself, and the pack, the send off their Alpha needed. Jackson knew this was going to happen despite how hard she tried to deny it. He wanted her safe and now she was.

Standing from the bed, she steadied herself for the first time since the wolfsbane had been out of her system. Even though she had several tears falling down her cheeks, she held her head up high. She was the Alpha of the Labonair line, despite her sister being older. She married Jackson, the Alpha of the pack.

While her heart ached in pain from the loss of her first love, her partner, her mate, she made her way towards her front door. She could make it through the next few minutes. Her pack needed their Alpha, even if she was in mourning, and she couldn’t let her people down.

For tomorrow, she wouldn’t be the same person she was. For the widow was going to do everything she could to make herself feel better about the loss of her husband. And unknowingly to her sister, Hayley had been the one to implant the idea into her head. She’d give into the darker thoughts that surrounded her. Her husband was killed in the middle of a war. And Y/N was willing to add to the death toll to ensure her husband’s death wasn’t for nothing.

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[saviorinsilk]

Update #5

Yesterday I had a medical appointment about my joints, one that I have been waiting FOREVER for. It was supposed to be in april but then covid hit and it got cancelled. It went well and thankfully I have been referred to another specialist and will be getting genetic testing to try and find out why my body is such a mess. What we learnt was that I have very very small kneecaps which is why the move around freely. She told me that no amount of strengthening my leg muscle will stop my knees from dislocating (both the knee cap and my actual knee joint (which is rare)). I have a very extreme case of hypermobile joint disorder. She said she had seen a few patients with it, but never anyone as extreme as me. Although I already knew this (because I live with daily subluxations and dislocations) it was extremely validating to finally, after 10 years to finally have a doctor look at me and say “There is something very wrong here.” 

This being said, I had a good cry with Roselle last night. Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely LOVE my life. It’s a fairy tale to me. I’m 22, married to my soulmate, living in the forest and pursuing my writing dream. But looking at a future always needing my cane and wheelchair, is a daunting one. I’ll never be able to run in the fields with my children or help with any physical work. I started spiraling and that’s when Roselle took my face in her hands and whispered to me, 

“Shh it’s ok. You’re my Venable. The first picture I ever saw of you, wasn’t even your face it was your outfit and your cane and I knew I was in love. You truly are my Venable.” 

Well if that didn’t make me ball. But she’s right. My physical disability will only hold me back if I let it. 

Wilhemina Venable didn’t let her disability stop her from being a confident, strong woman who commands everyone attention the moment she enters a room. That’s who I want to be. A woman who takes what she wants and doesn’t answer to anyone. 

One another note I have been struggling with my writing style as well as my identity as an author. I started to get worried that I wouldn’t be taken as seriously because of the genera that I write. I want to be on talk shows and have book signings but will that ever happen if I write erotica? My biggest fear? That Sarah would think my writing was grotesque and nasty.  So I started to try and force myself to write non erotica like the other authors on here, but all that did is make me stress and then feel horrible because I can’t get people’s requests written because I do not enjoy writing it. 

I have come to the realization that all these reasons I give myself for not writing erotica is just a way for my alters (or my subconscious) trying to protect my from peoples negative opinions. Whether or not Sarah would like my writing really doesn’t matter because she probably will never read my work, even if I am a well known author. I love writing about sex because it is the one thing that makes me feel normal. Orgasms take my consent pain away for a few blissful moments. Sex has helped me heal emotionally and given me the ability to see my life through rose coloured glasses, because when your life is filled with consent pain you have to find the beauty in each and every moment. So that’s what I’m going to write. 

That is my lesson for today darlings. Never take anything for granted, get lost in the moment and make memories that will help you through the dark times. Live the life you dream about, not one driven by what you think others expect of you.

Love, Ms. Lana

#update #update 5 #personal post #disabilties #ms venable #wilhemina venable

[acedesigns]

A Beautiful Swordsman [FF7: Cloud/Reader]

A/N: I hope I did a decent job with this. My relationship with gender is complex, so I hope I didn’t cause any dysphoria with describing Cloud wearing a dress. Anyways, I headcanon Andrea as being gray-pansexual. So I kinda went with that.

And if you’re wondering what the hell is wrong with you, you have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Welcome to my life.

Word Count: 2058

When you stood up everything cracked. It started at your ankles, somehow your shins, your knees, and hips. Of course, you couldn’t forget about the discs in your back popping. You rolled your eyes and moved forward, everything still clicking. At least nothing was dislocated this time.

“He’s here again!” you heard one of the honeybees whisper to another woman. You cringed, knowing it was Palmer. He had a habit of wanting to run around with a net to try and catch a honeybee. Luckily, all of the women had some training in self-defense and could easily outrun that creep.

“Oh! [Y/N]!” One of the ladies turned around when she heard you and shot you a soft smile. “Andrea wanted to see you!”

You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“I think so, he didn’t really say.”

Sighing, you thanked the honeybee and walked off towards the back of the stage where Andrea typically kept rehearsing for different shows. Despite his flawless performances, he continued to push himself to perform bigger and riskier shows.

“Andrea?” you called out and noticed the man was stretching his legs.

He glanced over and smirked. “[Y/N], darling! There you are! How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Is your shoulder doing better?”

“Yeah, I popped it back in. It’s not a big deal,” you shrugged it off. There was some inflammation, but it’d be gone tomorrow. It was a minor dislocation, after all.

Andrea sighed and shook his head. “Well, come now. I want you to come to the colosseum with me. I heard that there are a cute rookie mercenary and a beautiful young lady entering the fight.”

He walked past you and led you down the winding roads of Wall Market. It took you a while to get used to how many alleyways there were and which paths to take. Knowing which streets were dangerous also took a while. Luckily, people were almost everywhere but the alleyways that you had to squeeze into. It was really only those alleyways that were too terribly dangerous.

“Wait, is that?” a man questioned as he gawked at both you and Andrea. “Hey!” he shouted after you. “Why don’t you split your legs for me?”

You glanced at Andrea who ignored the man. Taking his lead, you also brushed off the crude catcaller. The people of Wall Market knew you as the very flexible dancer that could be in almost any position. Of course, if any of the other dancers tried to move the way you did, they’d end up severely injured.

Your hand rubbed into the knotting muscle of your opposing shoulder. You did sometimes end up injured with how hypermobile your joints were. And the more you hyperextended everything, the more everything hurt. But it made you one of the most requested dancers by both men and women that you had a waitlist almost as long as Andrea’s. And being the most requested dancers amounted to having a lot of money.

“So are you more interested in him or her?” you questioned and glanced at Andrea who chuckled lightly.

“It all depends, darling,” he mused. “Perhaps both.” You let out an undignified snort. Though, if anyone could court two people at the same time, Andrea could do it. But it was still rare that he ever took interest in someone, perhaps once every couple of years. Two people at once was a shock.

Once the two of you entered the colosseum, you skipped the lines and went into the reserved box for the trio. A few other bees were already there and pampered Andrea with attention once he took his seat. You stood behind Andrea’s chair and zoned out. These fights weren’t your favorite. Andrea knew that. But he also knew that if he didn’t take you here, you’d most likely further aggravate your injury at the Inn.

--

“[Y/N]?” Hello?” You blinked when Andrea was leaning down to your eye level with that ever-present smirk. “It’s time to go now, darling.”

“Oh, r-right. Sorry.” He waved off your apology and strolled out of the box. His long legs carried him towards the in with you close behind.

“Yo! Hot stuff!” a man called. A vice grip squeezed on your arm and yanked you back. A pop sounded from your arm. “What the hell?!

You clenched your jaw at the burning sensation in your shoulder and fought a scream in the back of your throat. Andrea swung around at the sound of the man screaming and saw the disfigured appearance of your arm with the man’s hand still holding onto you.

“Hey!” another voice sounded from behind you and the attacker was yanked away. With your arm now free, you let your hand hold onto your dislocated arm. You glanced behind you and saw a blond swordsman push your assailant to the ground. His eyes, that had a strange glow to them, met yours. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, not trusting yourself to actually say anything.

“Thank you,” Andrea stepped in. “You’re Cloud, aren’t you? If you have time, please, stop by Honeybee Inn. We’ll be expecting you.” Andrea turned towards you with a frown. “You are not dancing tonight, my dear. Let’s go get you fixed up.”

You simply hung your head in shame and followed him back. All the while, you worked on shoving your arm back in. It was a bad dislocation that would be inflamed for about a week if you were lucky. Once you were at the entrance, you finally managed to pop it back in.

“Shit!” you let out at the sudden pain. A tear fell from your eyes and your breathing quickened.

Andrea stopped and turned towards you. With a sigh, you pulled you close to hide you from prying eyes. “Just try to relax,” he soothed, knowing that the pain was starting to make you panic. “We’ll get you some ice.” He nodded his head to one of the men in the entourage who ran inside to grab the said ice. After a moment, he led you inside and took you backstage to rest.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a hiss when you rested the back of ice on your shoulder.

“Don’t be, that man had no right to touch you without your consent,” Andrea huffed. “If I had intervened, I could guarantee you he wouldn’t be getting up again.” You laughed lightly at the thought, knowing it was true.

“Thanks, Andrea.”

“Of course, no one disrespects my dancers,” he said with sincerity.

You smiled up at the man. “What are you going to do about the show since I’m out?”

A mischievous spark flashed across his eyes and he snapped his fingers. “I think I have just the idea! I heard the fighters were trying to get into Corneo’s audition. Madam M is taking care of the girl. But I think I can get Cloud in as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “They are actually willing to go into the audition? Are they crazy?”

“Not crazy. They’re trying to save their friend. Now! Since you’re not dancing, I need you to pick out a dress that would suit your hero, Cloud. I want to be surprised, so try to wow me.” With that, Andrea sauntered out of the dressing room to prepare for the show that evening.

With a sigh, you stood from the stool you were sitting on and moved towards the bag you brought to and from work. In it, was a series of braces and slings you had just in case something happened. With a grunt, you managed to fit your injured arm into the sling and slip the back of ice underneath the strap to keep it in place.

“Now, what dress would suit him?” you pondered and moved towards where all of the costumes were stored. His physique was smaller than Jules, so you couldn’t use any of Jules’s dresses. You’d probably have to go with one of the dresses that Andrea or one of the Honeybee men wore in the shows. But if you wanted Andrea to be surprised, it’d have to be one he hasn’t seen or worn before.

Your fingers swept through the fabric, looking for something that felt soft. Andrea was also always wowed by anything that shimmered under the light. It made the dancers look all that much more special. Your fingers paused on a dress and you pulled it out to examine it.

“Hmm,” you hummed at a blue and black dress. The top was a corset, that could make Cloud look like he had more traditionally feminine features. It had sheer sleeves that would show off his muscles, but Corneo did have a fetish for that. With a nod of approval, you went to grab some hair-extensions, a bow, and a necklace. The dress was long enough to hide his shoes. You weren’t sure if he’s ever walked in heals before and didn’t want this to be his first time.

--

You stood behind the stage and watched with mild amusement as the swordsman tried to leave. But once the men dragged him back, he sighed with reluctance. Andrea went easy on him and went with a famous dance, so Cloud should know the moves to it if he wasn’t leaving under a rock his whole life. You grinned as he was actually doing a decent job at hitting the moves at the right time. The crowd was going wild for him, too.

Andrea turned around towards Cloud and made a heart with his hands. “Honey, I’m in love!”

You chuckled to yourself and quietly murmured, “You’ve got some competition right here, Andrea.”

Then, it was the fun part. You handed off the dress and sat back as the honeybees did their work to make Cloud look fabulous. The women held out feathered fans to shield the audience of Cloud before twirling away to reveal how beautiful he truly looked.

Andrea looked at Cloud and glanced back towards where you were standing. He gave a nod of approval before twirling Cloud around to try and relax the swordsman’s nerves. Flares burst from the stage and the audience roared with approval. After a long, standing ovation, they all started to fill out of the theater and back towards the streets of the Wall Market.

“You were truly amazing out there, Cloud!” Andrea exclaimed. “You should consider joining our team when all of this is said and done.”

You quickly walked over towards the pair and examined the hairpieces and makeup for any imperfections. “I hope you like the dress!” you started and fixed a stray hair of his. He flinched back but allowed you to fix it. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed and looked away with embarrassment.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed towards one another in frustration. “I have to dress like this just to get into Corneo’s!”

“You look great!” Andrea reassured. “Besides, a dress is just a dress. Gender should not be assigned to clothes. Breakthrough those barriers, Cloud.”

“He’s right, but you should also dress how you feel comfortable. If you want, I can take you back and you can look and see if anything else would suit you better.”

“No, I just want to get this done and over with,” Cloud grumbled.

Andrea nodded. “I’ll take care of your weapons and clothes. We should also have Aerith’s and Tifa’s.” He looked over towards you. “I’m going to go and make a phone call.”

You nodded, knowing he was going to call Leslie. Looking back at Cloud, you gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, I guess you should get going. Kick Corneo’s ass for me, will ya? And as a thank you for that, and for helping me earlier, feel free to contact me whenever you need something. I’m pretty good at getting things that are in a weird place. Or if you just need someone to talk to.”

Cloud stared at you for a moment in shock. He looked away with what you could have sworn was a blush. “Right.” He turned around and began to awkwardly walk, trying to not step on the dress’s fabric. However, after a few feet, he turned back around to face you. “I think I might just take you up on that.”

With a sly grin, you waved off the beautiful swordsman.

#Final Fantasy 7 #Final Fantasy VII #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #Remake #FF7 #FFVII #Honeybee Inn #Cloud #Cloud Strife #Andrea #Gender #Fanfiction #Fan Fiction #FanFic #Fan Fic #Oneshot #one Shot #X Reader #Reader Insert

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong: Chapter 11 And Mother Will Catch You

Chapter 10

Read on AO3

Claire was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of whimpering. It took her several seconds to comprehend what she was hearing. She slowly turned herself over; changing positions in bed was getting more and more difficult in this, the middle of the fifth month of her pregnancy. Once she was finally facing toward the center of the bed, realization came crashing into her.

“Fergus?”

He was murmuring incoherently in French, tossing his head back and forth, kicking his legs.

“Fergus, it’s alright.” Claire struggled to sit herself up and gently touched his shoulder.

Claire’s heart was breaking, and she felt pangs of guilt surge through her. It had been over a year since Fergus had had his last nightmare, or so she’d thought. Had she been so consumed with her own grief that she had missed that her son was still struggling with his trauma?

“Fergus, love, I’m here. Wake up, it’s alright.”

She gave him a gentle shake, and his eyes finally popped open with a ragged gasp. His whole body froze for a moment, his eyes frantically searching his surroundings, then finally landing on Claire’s face.

“You’re safe, Fergus. I’m here. You’re safe.” She stroked his hair, watching as he slowly came out of his terror. He gradually dissolved into tears, and Claire scooped him into her arms, holding him close.

“He came for me! He dragged me away from you, right out of your arms! You were screaming, and he shot you! He killed you and the baby!”

“We’re alright, darling.” She rocked him and kissed his head. “I promise.”

“There was no one to protect me, he dragged me into the woods and he…he…”

“Shh…darling…” Claire blinked away her tears. “He is dead and gone. He will never, ever hurt you again. And there will always be someone to protect you. Always.”

“It hurt like it was real, Maman…” he whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart, I know…” Claire could not stop the tear that escaped her eye, unable to stop herself from imagining the pain he spoke of. “Oh, my poor darling…everything will be alright. I’m here.”

He wept quietly for several more minutes, Claire rocking him, kissing him. Fergus had not slept beside her in a few weeks now. She’d figured he wouldn’t do it forever, of course. Even now he was older than most boys that still enjoyed sharing a bed with their mothers. Today he’d asked out of the blue if he could join her again, and she’d of course agreed, figuring he’d just been missing his father a bit extra.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Fergus?” Claire said gently. “Is this the first nightmare you’ve had in a while? Or have there been others lately?”

He didn’t answer right away, but she let him take his time.

“There have been more,” he finally admitted. “I thought…I thought maybe if I slept beside you it would stop. I am sorry for waking you…”

“No, no…” Claire took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. I am your mother, and this is exactly what I’m here for.” She kissed his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having nightmares? I could have given you some herbs to help you sleep better.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, averting his eyes. “Worry is not good for the baby.”

“I have two children to care for, Fergus. I think mon petit will understand if his mother has to worry about her other child for a while.”

Fergus nodded. “I was…ashamed, too, Maman,” he said. “It was so long ago, and I did not have any dreams for a long time. I thought it had…stopped.”

“I understand. Sometimes our dreams like to remind us of things we thought we’d already forgotten. It’s happened to me with lots of different things. Before Prestonpans I was…reminded of something terrible from another war I was part of, something I thought I’d forgotten.”

“When you fell, in the grass,” Fergus said. “I remember.”

Claire nodded. “It’s also happened to Jamie.”

“To Milord? I do not believe it.”

Claire smiled sadly. Jamie was an untouchable, infallible pillar of strength to this boy, and perhaps he always would be. “It’s true. I used to hold him and soothe him in our bed, just like I’m doing to you now.” He finally met her eyes again. “So you see? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Fergus nodded hesitantly. “I do not…want to go back to sleep, Maman.”

“I understand.” She ran a hand through his curls again. “How would you like to go for a walk outside? I heard the weather in July is loveliest in the dead of night,” she teased.

He nodded. Claire got out of bed and pulled her robe on. She slid her feet into her slippers as Fergus pulled on his boots. They quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

They left the house through the back door, and Claire wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into her as they walked aimlessly through the grounds. They eventually reached the mill, and Claire smiled at the sound of the rushing water, the sight of the mill turning.

“Would you like to hear a story about Jamie and this mill?” she said as they got closer.

“Yes, I would.”

“The first time he ever brought me home to Lallybroch the mill wasn’t working. So, being the pigheaded fool that he was, he marched himself over here and stripped down to just his shirt, and jumped into the water.” They stopped at the bank of the water, watching it flow, listening to the soothing white noise.

“Did he fix it?”

“Well, while he was in there, some Redcoats started riding toward us, and he still had a price on his head at that time. He took a deep breath and went under, and he stayed there the whole time. Jenny tried to get them to leave, but one of them insisted he could fix the mill. Somehow, while he was under the water with hardly any breath left, Jamie managed to get the mill moving again, and he’d put his shirt on one of the paddles to stop them from inspecting the cause of the problem.”

“So he was naked under there?” Fergus said.

“As the day he was born.” Claire shook her head, remembering how much she’d wanted to throttle him at the time. “When they left and he came up for air he had to cover himself with his hands.” Fergus laughed. “He looked quite foolish.”

“That sounds like Milord!”

Claire laughed as well, wrapping her other arm around him as well, rubbing his upper arm and resting her chin atop his head.

“Can you tell me more about him?” Fergus asked. “I never realized…or I never thought about your lives before Paris. I always thought of you as being in that house forever, but of course you were not.”

Claire’s heart swelled, leaving her feeling full and yet painfully empty. To be able to share details of Jamie’s life with her son would bring her such joy, and yet the fact remained that the reason she had to be the one to do so was because Jamie himself was dead. 

“Why don’t we sit down, hm?” She suggested, and she and Fergus settled into the grass. The night had left it wet with dew, but neither of them seemed to care. It was soothing to feel its coolness, in combination with the late night breeze that passed over them.

“Well, my first interaction with Jamie was putting his dislocated shoulder back into place.”

Fergus laughed. “Exactly as I would imagine!”

Claire laughed as well, and then proceeded to spin the tale of those first nights, Jamie stubbornly refusing to reveal his gunshot wound, toppling off the horse unconscious. How he’d threatened to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off; how much she’d utterly despised him in the beginning.

At some point, Fergus had laid his head in her lap, and just as she’d finished relaying the night that she’d caught him sleeping outside her door, she was interrupted by the sound of his even, heavy breathing. She sighed, gently running her fingers through his hair. Despite the catharsis that it brought her to talk about the time she had cherished with Jamie, it still overwhelmed her with the reminder of his absence, and it made her heart ache.

After briefly indulging her grief, she turned her attention back to the sleeping boy in her lap. She’d have to pay closer attention to him. She’d had no idea that he was suffering nightmares lately. She’d have to observe him closer during the day, make sure there was nothing triggering it, and she’d have to be sure to give him that tea that she’d given Jamie in Paris to soothe his nightmares. And of course let him stay in her bed for as many nights as he needed before he felt safe in his own mind again.

Her eyes felt heavy, and her head lolled from side to side. If she were able, she’d scoop him up into her arms and carry him to bed so they could both sleep through the rest of the night, but unfortunately he was too big for her. She suddenly had the strange realization that she’d never even known him to be small enough for her to pick up, and with that realization came a small pang of sadness. She wondered what he’d been like as a baby, as a little boy. Had he come out of the womb with that wild mop of curls? His eyes must have taken up half of his head when he was little. She smiled softly at the thought. He was a beautiful baby, I’m sure of it.

Jamie would carry him to bed if he were here.

As much as she craved sleep, she could not bring herself to wake him, and nor would she leave him alone in the grass. She leaned back on her hands and let her head hang loose, her eyes closed. She breathed in the earthy smell of Scotland, the fresh scent of the water as it ran by them. The sky had gradually turned from black, littered with stars, to the blank, grey-blue of early dawn.

Just as she thought she was about to fall asleep sitting up, she felt something unmistakable inside of her. Her head jolted up and her hands flew to her stomach. Then it came again, a gentle thud from the inside, pressing into her hand.

She exhaled loudly in awe. After a quiet moment of disbelief, he kicked again.

“Fergus,” Claire stammered. “Fergus, wake up!”

At that moment, she couldn't even think of how she should likely not be disturbing his sleep. Keeping one hand on her stomach, she shook him by the shoulder with the other.

“Maman?” he said groggily. “Are you alright?”

She wordlessly took hold of his hand and pressed it onto her protruding stomach. Confused, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the hand that was not being pinned down by Claire.

“He kicked, Fergus.”

Any trace of sleepiness immediately vanished from his face, and his eyes lit up. “Mon petit?”

“Yes, yes! Just wait…he’ll do it again…”

As if on cue, another soft thud came again, and Claire cried out with joy, and Fergus gasped.

“You felt it?”

“Oui, Maman!” He beamed up at her for a split second before glueing his eyes back on her stomach. “It is incroyable!”

Claire laughed, tears leaking out of the corners of her crinkled eyes. “It is, isn’t it?”

Fergus pressed both of his hands into her now, waiting patiently for the next movement. They waited with bated breath, but nothing else came.

“He’s all done now, I suppose,” Claire sighed.

“He tired himself out, no?” Fergus looked up at her again.

“Seems that way.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked curiously.

“Not at all,” Claire assured him.

“Will he remember when he comes out? That he kicked his brother?”

Claire smiled wistfully. “He might.”

Fergus beamed proudly.

“I’m so glad you were here for it.” Claire cupped his cheek. “All this time I imagined feeling it and…having no one to turn to like I did with Faith.”

“We promised each other we would not be alone, Maman. I am glad I was here, too.”

Claire pulled him in to embrace him and kissed the top of his head.

“Now, we don’t have to go to sleep, but I think we’d better at least go inside before your Auntie Jenny has a heart attack upon realizing we’ve disappeared.”

Fergus chuckled. “Alright, Maman.”

He stood up and then she gave him her hands to help her off the ground. It was trickier than she’d have liked it to be.

“God, this isn't even the largest I’ll be, and I can already hardly move…” she groaned, leaning into Fergus as they ventured back into the house.

“Do not worry, Maman. I will fetch whatever you need if you cannot move."

“I appreciate that, darling, but I actually need to keep moving. Of course I need rest, and I…I learned my lesson about running myself ragged.” She shuddered guilty at the horrible memory of her loss in Paris. “But it’s very healthy for me to go on walks, keep the blood and air flowing. For me and the baby.”

“Then our walk tonight was good, no?”

“Yes, it was. For both of us.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Oui, Maman.”

Once they were back inside and in Claire’s bedroom, it took Claire all of two minutes to fall dead asleep, feeling guilty even as she did it, because she could not stay awake to make sure Fergus fell asleep again. The last thing she felt before she fell asleep was a tentative, brief kiss on the largest, roundest part of her stomach. Her heart burst, overwhelmed with love for her sweet, affectionate boy, and she let the comfort of his presence, his love, and his devotion carry her to sleep.

#outlander au #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander #claire fraser #jamie fraser #fergus fraser

[newsies-geek]

Bowery Boy: Javid Fic Part 1

***

Davey felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he heard his parents' words from the other side of the wall.

It was one AM and Davey should have been asleep, but Les had woke up groggily asking for a cup of water, and as the older brother he had no choice but to oblige with a groan. He'd hesitated however as he heard voices coming from the kitchen across the hall, prompting him to flatten himself against the wall to keep from being noticed.

"We can't afford it anymore, Esther..." Mr.Jacobs sighed, "The house is too big for our wallets being this small."

"But we're already down to two bedrooms, darling, how much smaller can we get." Mrs.Jacobs leaned against the dining room table that her husband sat at with a frown.

Mr.Jacobs shook his head, "The cost, not the size...I'm afraid New York expenses just- aren't what they used to be.."

Davey felt his heart drop at what his father was implying, making him grip the wall behind him tighter.

"What are you saying?" Mrs.Jacobs fretted, voicing her son's thoughts.

"We...well, the country side is practically dirt cheap to afford living...the boys could take their working talents and harvest crops there-"

"We don't know the first thing about crop harvesting, Mayer." Mrs.Jacobs furrowed her brow at her husband, moving to sit in a chair across from him, folding her hands on the table.

"And Davey didn't know anything about selling newspapers either, but that boy said he's a natural born- ah what is it? News....z?"

"Newsie, dear." Mrs.Jacobs corrected politely.

Mr.Jacobs nodded, "Exactly. I'm sure they'll do fine in the country, and it'll give my arm time to heal anyhow.."

'That boy...' Davey felt his heart tighten, 'Jack...' ...and, moving out to the country? What a gimmick, right when the other boy had finally decided to stay, Davey would be leaving.

'If you're fadda' had had a union, he'd still have his job-' Wasn't Davey's job enough?

Clearly not, if they couldn't afford rent...but it wasn't like there was a job that paid more-

"Sarah and I could work a double-shift-" Mrs.Jacobs began.

"I'm not making my family work harder for me than they already are- it just isn't fair." Mr.Jacobs rubbed his temple, "We've got a week until the next rent payment is due...it'll be the last one we pay."

Davey felt his hands go to his face. He couldn't leave New York. Not now. Not after everything was finally going his way- They'd won the strike, he had friends, he had Jack!

Jack...

Davey felt his stomach twist with frustration and longing, hating how the other boy made him feel.

He couldn't just stand idly by and watch this happen.

He had to do something-

But first, he had to go get Les some water.

***

"And I-I really don't intend to be rude- I just thought if you had any extra work you needed, I'd be willing to take it." Davey shrugged his shoulders sheepishly as he looked at Medda.

"Honey, I would love to give you work, but it's already being done- it wouldn't be fair to take hours away from others..." Medda sighed with a frown as she looked at the pleading boy before her, sulking against an old set backstage.

"It's alright, I understand, I-"

"Medda!" A shrill voice came from the wings, causing the woman to turn around with a cocked eyebrow.

"Julia just tripped and twisted her ankle, I think she might have stapled a tendon." The blonde girl in a feathered dress fretted to Medda.

"Oh dear, and you girls go on tonight.." Medda felt her heart drop, "Does she have an understudy?"

The blonde shook her head, "No, she was just there to add a bit of kick to it in the back- y-you said it would be so easy to find her an understudy if needed that we didn't need to assign one." The girl shrugged her shoulders forward guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I-"

"Don't you be apologizing, it's not your fault." Medda  put an arm around the girl, "Is Julia alright?"

"They're takin' her to the hospital right now, I thought I should tell you." She nodded solemnly.

"Well, you can't have the Bowery Trio be a Bowery Duo now can we?"

"I, well yes, but how are we going to find someone to-?"

"I just might have an idea." Medda turned to grin at Davey who looked in confusion before muttering a quiet, "Oh no.."

***

Looking at himself in the mirror of the boys' dressing room, empty from not being used for quite some time, he wasn't sure how he felt.

Dread was one emotion- fear was another- but there was a sort of...appreciation, for how he felt in a dress and tights. It had been hell waxing his arms and legs for this, they still stung, but it gave him an almost charming look. His dress was a lovely lavender color with red and white accents. He had to admit, it felt nice to twirl and have the dress twirl with him.

He had makeup on that hid his face well enough- and a matching fan that also hid the majority of his features.

Medda had been right, the movements were easy to pick up- just some leg kicks that Davey found surprisingly easy...and some sauntering that he'd found embarrassingly difficult.

Regardless, he was being paid far more for than than he already had gotten from spending the day selling papers with Jack before leaving early to 'help with dinner'

A knock came from the door, "Five minutes!" Medda called.

"Th-Thank you five!" Davey called before hurriedly looking over his face to make sure everything looked alright. Medda had done the make up and it looked entirely stunning. It had been difficult figuring out where to put Les while this whole ordeal was going on, but they settled for letting him doodle on some blank canvases back stage for Jack to paint later.

Davey shook his shook and took in a deep breath before nodding, "Seize the day." He whispered.

***

Once he was on stage, Davey felt like a million eyes were on him. His fan was currently in front of his face from where he stood up stage. His hair had been curled at the ends and honestly- you would only think he was a guy if you knew it was him.

Honestly- Davey might not have been far off when he said all eyes were on him- because they really were.

His movements took place primarily from sitting on top of a crate in back, kicking his legs up and earning some whistling from the guys in the audience, making him inwardly groan. Not that he didn't want the attention of guys- just, a particular flirtatious cowboy in particular.

Davey was surprised he was able to kick his leg over his head for the finally, feeling as though it might dislocate, but apparently years of running to school, tripping, and doing the same as a Newsie, left his limbs strong and flexible.

He wasn't complaining.

The boy felt...pride...swell up in his chest as he received a booming amount of applause. He fluttered his fan in front of his face as he curtsied before heading back stage and quickly to the boy's dressing room.

This couldn't be that bad, right?

***

He must have been right- because after three nights of the same act, Davey was eating up the applause by the end of it, growing more confident in his movements and adding an extra sway in his hips. Something about his face being hidden...gave him the courage and strife to be out there and do something that he surprisingly enjoyed. He didn’t enjoy the cat-calling, or men trying to find him after the show and never succeeding- after all, they weren’t looking for Davey, they were looking for Lily. Davey hadn’t picked the name but he liked it well enough- he liked Davey better, and Medda had expressed how openly fine she had been with him using Davey, she wouldn’t stop him but she would warn him of how cruel people could be.

Davey took her word of advice and laid low- for as long as he could.

Which was only a matter of until Friday.

It caught him off guard, when he was walking back stage and into the dressing rooms. The look of abject horror on his face when he saw Les simply doodling on a paper on the floor made David almost have a heart attack right then and there.

Les was just as surprised, gaping at Davey in confusion as the boy quickly slipped into the dressing room and slammed the door shut, storming over to his brother with balled up fists at his sides, “What are you doing in here?” Davey was livid but tried to hide it.

“They was painting back stage so- um- I got moved into here- why are you dressed like that?” Les sat up with a cocked head.

Under his foundation, Davey blushed profoundly, wiping a hand over his face and smearing his make-up in the process, “Why is it your business..?” he murmured tiredly, not meaning to be rude to his brother, but not sure he wanted to explain.

“Well, I just wasn’t sure if you were havin’ a midlife crisis or something and- did you steal that from the girl’s dressing room?” Les gasped before grinning, “Davey!”

“I did not!” Davey snapped as he took a damp cloth to his face, rubbing at the makeup with kept-in anger at the situation.

“Why are you all dressed up then?” Les pressed, sitting on the stool beside Davey that faced a mirror with light-bulbs around it, half of them burned out.

“I was performing if you have to know.” Davey mumbled.

It took a few seconds, and you could see thoughts clicking into place as Les came to a conclusion, “Are you performing as a performer? Like the girls? Like with the he girls?”

“With the girls, yes.” Davey sighed as he finished getting his makeup off.

“Why? I-“ Les paused before gasping, “You’re doing this to be around the girls, aren’t you!” He leapt up onto the stool.

Davey furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to object before shaking his head, “Sure.”

“Oh man, wait until Sarah hears-“

Davey slapped a gentle hand over Les’s mouth with a stern glare, “Nobody hears, got it?”

Les pushed Davey’s hand out of the way, “Why not?”

“Because- this isn’t- something that I’d normally do-“ Davey sighed, getting up to go behind the changing curtains and changing back into normal clothes.

“But you are doing it.” Les pointed out, spinning in his chair.

“Still- just- lets drop it, okay? This stays between me and you.” Davey finished putting his regular clothes back on and stepped back out to the other side of the curtain with a sigh, “Ready?”

Les groaned, “Fiiiine.”

Davey gave an appreciative nod to his brother before they exited, leaving Davey to pray that the other would stay true to his word.

#newsies #jack kelly #jack #davey #david #gay #davey jacobs #gays #jacobs #musical

[ptersparkers]

the worthy one (the adventures of y/n stark)

summary: a regularly updating collection of vignettes, which can be read in any order, that detail the life and adventures of y/n stark, a self-proclaimed baker, thrill seeker, and an all around good person.

a/n: this was inspired by the aou scene....THAT scene

warnings: swearing!

masterlist / taglist

“What are you guys doing?” you asked as you walked into the common room. The tower was empty today and the sun was almost set. The Avengers, along with Peter, were lounging around various couches and other cushioned seats as Mjolnir sat on a glass table.

“Nice pajamas,” Peter teased. You stuck your younger out at him.

“We’re trying to see if any of these baffoons are worthy, Little Stark,” Thor said. You rolled your eyes at the nickname and sat on the cushion’s arm beside your father.

“Why are you up so late, kiddo?” Tony asked when he noticed your sleepy eyes, messy hair, and pajama bottoms Clint bought you as a gag gift for a Secret Santa game. Tony tried to fix the mess that was your hair and tucked a few strands behind your ear. The others were chattering among themselves and you took a look around before answering.

“I kept waking up because it’s so loud out here. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?” You slung your arm around Tony’s neck and pulled him closer to give him a side hug. He grinned and focused his attention to Thor, who beamed.

“I bet none of you are worthy enough to lift Mjolnir,” Thor teased, smirking at the lot. Maria rolled her eyes and laughed at Clint, who bet he could move it.

“Yeah right,” Natasha said, pushing Clint’s leg with the top of her foot as he got up to stand behind the all-mighty hammer.

“I mean, come on? This thing can’t weigh more than a child, at least,” said Clint.

“Really, you’re measuring its weight to a child?” Bruce said with a laugh.

Clint looked at you. “It probably weighs half of what Y/N weighs.”

You scoffed. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“I think that was a compliment?” Peter added, unsure of his answer.

You all watched as Clint cracked his knuckles and stretched, and it looked as if he was preparing for the biggest fight of his life. He rolled his neck to the left and right before taking a deep breath, placing both hands on the handle before pulling with all his might. To Clint’s dismay, the hammer didn’t budge.

“This thing’s gotta be broken,” Clint said, exasperated. “Hold on.” He put one foot on the table and pulled again, but nothing.

“Well, buddy, you did your best,” Thor said, sporting a beer bottle in his hand and pointing it at Clint as mock salute. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll try,” Natasha said. “I gain nothing from this other than knowing I won’t be able to lift it. My curiosity can be put to sleep.”

“Oh come on, Nat,” Bruce said. “You could probably do it.”

Natasha laughed and put two hands on the hammer for before lifting, but faced the same fate as Clint. She shrugged as everyone gave her half-hearted laughs and looked around the room to see who would go next.

“Dad, you should try it,” you egged, pushing his shoulder off of the couch. “If anyone’s worthy of lifting Thor’s hammer, it’s you.”

Tony looked back at you with a gleam in his eye and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly and he felt like his heart grew ten times the size it already was.

“You’re something else,” he said with a smile, shaking his head as he stood up. Tony put both hands on the handle and looked at you, winking before pulling with all his might.

Nothing.

“Maybe I should get some Iron Man gear in here,” Tony mumbled before leaving to retrieve a tool. He came back a minute later and tried to use his tech to lift the hammer but to no avail. “Rhodey, mind helping me out with this one?”

The group watched with humor as both Tony and Rhodey tried to lift the hammer with the hands of their suits. Both men decided they had enough when they broke a sweat and Tony landed back on his seat with a pleasant sigh, looking at you.

“You’re still worthy to me,” you said teasingly.

He wagged a finger in front of you. “I better be.”

“Thor, I have a question,” Peter said.

“Ask away, young one.”

“Does the person who pick up the hammer rule Asgard?”

Thor shrugged. “Not really. I mean yes? But again, not really. Well, kind of.”

Peter looked perplexed. “Okay, that wasn’t confusing at all.”

“Steve, you should go,” you said, nodding your head towards him.

“Me? Oh, no, I could never,” he said, waving you off and taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Come on! You’ve gotta at least try,” Clint added.

“You’re a fucking super soldier,” Natasha added, pushing him off of the seat next to her. “You may be old, but you’re not that old.”

Steve laughed at her comment and put his hands in the air to surrender before taking a deep breath. He placed both of his hands around the handle and pulled with all his might, like his fellow friends, and to Thor’s surprise, the base of the hammer moved slightly.

You watched as Thor’s eyes moved to the moving surface and witnessed his expression transition from humored to slightly anxious. When Steve relinquished the handle and admitted defeat, you saw that Thor had let out a nervous chuckle before clearing his throat.

“Anyone else?”

“I wanna try!” Peter said, standing up enthusiastically. “I highly doubt I’ll move it but I want to say I tried.”

“Go on then, Parker,” Thor said, gesturing his hand at Mjolnir.

Peter gripped the handle and pulled. He wasn’t surprised when the hammer didn’t move, but pulled once again. Peter eventually let go with a heavy sigh and put his hands on his hips as everyone watched and gave him a small round of applause.

“You did good, kid,” Tony said, slow clapping at his effort.

Thor seemed to have forgotten about Mjolnir as he spoke to Rodey and Bruce about the Yankees game the previous day. Maria called it a night and made sure to give you a hug before leaving and told you to swing by her office to pick up some internship applicant papers she wanted you to review (to see who’s be a good fit, she said. From a kid’s perspective). Natasha and Clint got into a little argument about something you’d rather not know. You scooted next to Peter when Tony got up to talk to Steve and you gave him a look.

“What?” he asked.

You stood up and looked at Mjolnir and back at Peter, who only shrugged his shoulders, and then back at Mjolnir. Without much thought (you thought you’d end up dislocating your shoulders if you pulled too hard), you gripped the hammer with both hands before realizing you were holding the mighty hammer above your heard.

Your eyes widened and you turned around immediately to be met with Peter’s equally surprised expression.

“Guys?” you asked around, though no one paid much attention to the spectacle that was before them. “Hello?” you asked louder, waving the hammer around with one hand this time.

The voices died down as soon as their eyes landed on you and your father’s eyes practically fell out of their sockets when he saw what you were holding.

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaimed. You couldn’t read his expression as he put down his glass of whiskey and stared at you with an open mouth.

“I suppose you are worthy, Little Stark,” Thor said with a single slap. You pointed the hammer at him when he took a step closer.

“I am not little.”

Thor chuckled and took the weapon from your hands before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Of course you aren’t. We have a lot to discuss tomorrow, don’t we?” Thor left the room, leaving the rest of you dazed and confused.

Tony walked up to you and immediately wrapped you in his arms, putting his chin on the top of your head.

“I have no idea what any of this means,” you said honestly. “That was...so surprising.”

“Way to go, kid!” Steve said, grinning and giving you a high five. Bruce and Natasha followed after, with Clint giving you a wink. Everyone eventually filed out of the living room except for you, Tony, and Peter.

“Does this mean she rules Asgard now?” Peter asked innocently. Tony laughed, but he wasn’t really sure what yielding the hammer meant.

“Well, Pete, all I know is my darling little Y/N is worthy. I mean, we all knew she was worthy without the hammer, but this proves it now.”

“Daaad,” you exaggerated.

Tony laughed again and smiled down at you before kissing your forehead, relinquishing you from his arms.

“I am so proud of you,” Tony said with a gentle tone. “Every part of you that exists today is because of you. I’m just happy that I get to be part of your journey. Now, I’m going to foster another glass of whiskey and tell Pepper what happened tonight before freaking out tomorrow morning. See you then?”

“See you then,” you said with a sleepy and satisfied smile. Tony grinned at you one more time before saying goodnight to Peter, who followed you to your room. You closed the door and fetched a blanket for him to sleep with, pulling out the hidden pull-out mattress underneath your bed frame.

“I should probably stop sleeping here,” Peter said as he climbed into bed. You looked down at him from your mattress and leaned down to flick his forehead.

“It’s fine. My dad knows you’re a good kid and that we don’t really do anything other than eat and complain. Besides, I’d probably chew him out if he tried to throw you out,” you said.

“Fair point,” Peter said with a yawn. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be the Queen of Asgard.”

You burst out laughed and asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn the lights out, wondering if, just maybe, you’d really be queen.

***

Taglist:

@songforhema, @kath94210, @sessi03.

#avengers #my writing #the worthy one

[dantesinfcrno]

𝑳𝑰𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀.

His first memory is not a pleasant one. He is a child, standing thanks to the miracle of his independence, unsteady legs covered in bruises. A glass shatters, and he falls — fear crawls over his small body, preying upon the tears that fill his eyes. He can't stand up, and his calls go unanswered. There's a monster growing in the pit of his stomach, shards prickling his skin whenever he breathes. He doesn't have the voice to keep on screaming— so he doesn't, clenching his jaw as he crawls through the mess he'd made. It was all his fault. Blood dripped from his knees, from his hands, and all he could think about was how he'd clean the damn carpet before anyone got home.  He is a child, and he takes care of himself. He is a child, and he isn't safe.

Dante was not a priority. His dear mother's pregnancy was a risky one, and yet— she kept on moving relentlessly, leading to premature birth. Dante doesn't remember being on the brink of death, but he sensed it — that's why his pulse is anxious, heart going too fast, holding everything with unyielding, smothering hands. There was an innate awareness of his unimportance (a pain most would find too humiliating to bear), and Dante embraced it. Not an ounce of self-preservation found root in his soul, many deaths taking him apart over the years — he was used to crawling, knees deep in the mud, dirt filling his lungs. He didn't bother thinking of himself any higher than that.

Things that shouldn't live inside your body but do: saltwater, serpents, a forest, dunes, knives, crystal shards, bourbon, a stack of lies, golden hours, a corpse.

Dante sits at the edge of the world and considers jumping — it's a parallel that repeats itself (every year, every month, every day). Something rumbles in his ribs, no longer human. He wants to be left for dead, he keeps on running. He follows his mother's steps to Strathmore, hopes to find the love she never gave him there: a gratuitous act of violence against himself. 

There is a map somewhere: in the empty spaces between barely healed bones, in the freckles scattered across his cheeks, in the scars that create a starscape within his body. Mercutio deciphers it in a few days— and understands, fiery hands embracing his heart with a passion Dante thought unreal. He thinks about the word love and accepts he may have only felt it in its purest form for his beloved predecessor.

— Why did you choose me? I doubt you, of all people, would invite me just for my family name. — he murmurs, sinful words pressed to his lower back. There's silence, lust still heavy in their pores.

— They should be terrified of you. — it doesn't sound like a joke, but Dante takes it as one, eager to hide the hard marble underneath his skin.

He searches for "how to disappear and never be found".

He buys a plane ticket.

He loses the flight.

The nights are long, filled with white noise and tumultuous unrest. Dante stays awake in Mercutio's bed, a deck of cards splayed in his mind. The Lovers, The Fool, The Hanged Man, Death. His heartbeats echo, empty-chested and starry-eyed he is. His fingers tremble — wake him up and tell him you're empty, they say. Dante smiles at him in the morning, sickly sweet, and then leaves.

There's a thorn deep in your heart. You keep digging to try and get rid of it, but instead, you have torn yourself apart and eaten yourself alive.

Their conversations often end up in blood. It's all Dante knows: this carnage, this ebullient cupidity, this eternal act of fleeing.

— You will move on. — he tells Mercutio, once he graduates.

— So should you.

— I must not.

— Why?

— Someone will always need me along their way.

— So you let them take you apart piece by piece?

— You've never heard of Prometheus, darling?

Their last kiss tastes of iron and Dante feels sick.

He flies to London one night, and Mercutio meets him there— where his mother's grave lays, sterile and unloved, just as he is.

— I never loved her. I have no recollections of her voice. I don't want to. The place she should be will always be empty. — it's a confession, his voice not above a whisper, the wind engulfing it all. — She died without knowing anything about me, so will everyone else. My life will always be these questions with no answers. What is the first animal I killed at a hunt? What was the first time I've run away? How many times have I slashed my skin open on purpose? Where do I go to once the lights are out? Who the fuck am I?

Mercutio makes love to him afterward, and Dante goes back to Guildford before the morning comes.

Poppy was one of the many mysteries Dante wanted to unravel. She did not push back — ever so gently pulling him in, entertaining his whims. He'd never met anyone quite like her, eager for his knowledge, unwilling to take all he had to offer in one bite, and then leave. Dante fails her like he does everyone else, and his throat clogs up at the thought. He begs for her forgiveness when he manages to fall asleep, hating himself even more once he wakes up. Unworthy, undeserving, unholy. His bones are soaked with guilt, his every breath a thunderstorm.

Handling the possibility of a new diadem unleashes something long forgotten— the sincere emotions he has tucked away under the crevices of his body, the facade of a trickster dislocating itself from his core ever so briefly. He has to stop himself from letting out the silent sobs that bubble in his throat. This is an omen, he thinks, excusing himself for a "smoke break," it's losing all I ever had. His head spins, and he considers shouting and never stopping. He lights an incense as an offering instead, the small shrine in his room his last beacon of hope as he prays. Poppy's smile lingers behind his eyes, and his knees falter. 

Tryambakam yajamahe, sugandhim pushti-vardhanam, urvarukamiva bandhanan, mrityor mukshiya mamritat.

#𝑽 : DEVELOPMENT . #𝑿𝑰𝑰 : REFLECTIONS .