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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it.

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.”

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line.

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--”

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.”

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?”

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.”

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.”

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.”

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.”

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.”

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.”

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.”

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.”

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.”

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.”

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision.

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark.

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness.

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic.

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?”

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together.

He hesitates, “My ghost will.”

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.”

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.”

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.”

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him.

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me.

“Are you ignoring me?”

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.”

“I--”

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything.

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.”

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this?

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.”

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?”

“To get through the Fold.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.”

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.”

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.”

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.”

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it.

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.”

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.”

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.”

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.”

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.”

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes.

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy.

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.”

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.”

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--”

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.”

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--”

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.”

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?”

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.”

“Or original.”

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.”

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.”

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.”

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it.

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.”

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.”

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.”

“What?”

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.”

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?”

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--”

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.”

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.”

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.”

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.”

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.”

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.”

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow.

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

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bywhatilove · 3 years

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“The Friend Trap” Chapter Five

“Actually,” Fabian began as he stood up, “I’ll go talk to her.”

Before either Eddie or KT could interject by reminding him of the headspace Nina was in at the moment and that maybe it would be best to send either of them out there, he was out the door.

“Oh boy,” KT gulped as she laid her head onto her palms. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Eddie’s eyes widened with shock. “Me? Talk you into this? K.T, may I care to remind you that this was all your idea!”

“I was hoping you would forget about that…” she muttered under her breath. “We are screwed, Eddie. Nina is never going to forgive me for keeping all of this a secret from her. Fabian is going to be pissed at you for ambushing him.”

“Oh my god. Would you relax?” Eddie leaned back into his chair like he did not have a care in the world. “Nina and Fabian will thank us for this one day. Probably not today…. but someday.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” KT stated out loud, mostly for her own benefit. She gestured towards an empty spot by the window, which would give the two a front seat for the Nina and Fabian reunite show. “I guess we should give them their privacy.”

Eddie nodded his head in agreement. Yet, not even a moment later, the two found themselves racing for the empty chair that would provide them with the best view.

“No fair!” K.T whisper-screamed as Eddie pounced down onto it first.

“As Nina’s Osarian and sworn protector, Fabian’s roommate and best friend AND the one who has known them longer, I think that I rightfully deserve the front row seat for their reunion.” Eddie replied as his eyes took focus on two of his best friends.

K.T rolled her eyes, but all of those were factual statements, and, well, you can’t argue with the facts. So, she begrudgingly took the seat behind him and strained her neck to get a view of what was going on.

Outside, Nina and Fabian had their backs turned away from the coffee shop facing towards the street, which meant that all KT and Eddie could see was their backside as Nina sat on a bench and Fabian stood behind her.

“Oh what I would give to be a fly on that bench,” K.T blurted.

“That’s a good sign,” Eddie noted as the pair watched as Fabian took the empty seat beside Nina.

A few moments of silence passed, with only the occasional hand gesture or body movement to understand what was being said. But that didn’t stop Eddie from providing his own commentary.

“Right now they are both professing their undying, unconditional love for their other. Nina is apologizing for leaving the way she did. Fabian is accepting it. They are making an oath to never break up again. Next, they are going to come in here holding hands being all adorable again and live happily ever after.”

K.T snickered. “Is that your osarian senses tingling or just your own Eddie Miller instincts.”

“That is just common sense,” he replied straight faced. “They are Nina and Fabian. They have survived much, much worse than this.”

Suddenly, Fabian stood up from the bench. He began walking back towards the shop before he stopped in his tracks. K.T and Eddie watched him tell Nina something without even allowing a glance back in her direction. His face was stone cold, nothing like the shy smile K.T and Eddie knew and loved. Whatever he said (K.T and Eddie had never wished they could read lips more than in this moment), must have delivered a final punch to Nina. She let her elbows fall onto her knees and her head collapsed into her palms.

“Hate to break it to you bud, but I think common sense failed ya.” K.T declared unwillingly.

“Go, go, go,” Eddie ushered K.T back away from the window and to their original table. The two barely made it back as the door opened and Fabian entered the room- looking absolutely pissed.

“I’m heading out,” he grunted, “going for a walk. I just need to clear my head. Text me your address, K.T, and I’ll be there later this evening.” He started to walk away towards the back door to ensure he wouldn’t have an awkward encounter with Nina on the way out. Just before he walked through the door, he turned his head almost as if he was about to say something more. Yet, he decided against it and left with a simple shake of the head.

K.T and Eddie glanced at one another.

“Well, with all considering, that wasn’t too bad.” K.T shrugged. The two had accepted a much worse blow up from their meddling. It wouldn’t have shocked them too much if Nina or Fabian refused to speak to them for a couple days. Or if Fabian had bought a ticket straight back to England on the earliest flight available. Or if Nina decided to escape the city by taking a spontaneous trip to see her gran.

Eddie gently shook his head. “Don’t get too relieved. Fabian has always been the more level headed and calm of those two. I love Nina, but she is known for acting impulsively and not the most level headed. It’s usually because of her love for her friends and determination to keep them safe, even if that means she has to brave all of problems on her own. Hence her leaving without a trace senior year….I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

K.T nodded her head. “You do that when you get nervous.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two as they sat and waited for the tidal wave that could be Nina Martin’s anger. They didn’t have to wait long, though, as Nina soon entered back into the shop. She didn’t look mad… but rather just upset. And somehow, that was all the much worse. Her eyes gave away that tears had recently escaped them and her red tinted face was proof of her distress.

“I’m just gonna head back to the apartment,” she gestured back towards the door. “I guess I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Neither K.T or Eddie had the chance to respond before she was out the door.

“She wasn’t mad at us, which is a lot better than I expected.” K.T began to nervously play with her nails.

Eddie let out a deep sigh before responding. “No, she wasn’t. But she looked so…”

“Broken.” K.T interjected.

“Yeah. They both did. Which honestly makes me feel a lot worse than I would have if they came back here guns-a-blazing and screaming at us.”

“What do you think is going to happen between the two of them? And I don’t want any of your fairytale happy ending b.s.”

Eddie took a moment to sit with this. He did want to give her his honest answer. “Honestly? I’ve heard stories from Amber and Patricia about infamous Fabian and Nina fights. Apparently they can be brutal sometimes. Yet, what neither realizes is that they are usually fighting over the same thing. Nina wants to keep Fabian safe by keeping him far away from any of her chosen one craziness and Fabian wants to keep Nina safe by being right by her side every time something happens. So eventually they erupt into some huge massive argument because they are both so darn stubborn. I mean...that is what this is all about, right?”

K.T looked puzzled like she wasn't quite following.

“Oh, yeah, I forget, I have known them longer and do know them better.” Eddie playfully nudged K.T with his shoulder before continuing. “Fabian is mad at Nina for leaving like she did and she left like she did because she was trying to protect Fabian and the rest of us. Obviously, it didn’t work because she didn’t take into account that egyptain gods and curses love to torture us with or without Nina around. So we just have to make both of them see that they were trying to achieve the same thing and ba-bang. They’re back together!”

“You make that sound a lot easier than it is going to be…” K.T huffed.

Eddie flicked his hand jokingly. “Pfff, no way Rush. My osarian senses are ah tingling and I can promise that everything is going to work out. Nina and Fabian are obviously meant for one another. Anyone can see it. Well, anyone but themselves that is.”

“Like you and Patricia are meant for one another?” She winked at Eddie. “How are you two, actually? With all the Fabian and Nina drama, I completely forgot to ask.”

“Amazing. I mean, long distance sucks butt. But, her university is only two hours drive from mine and Fabian’s. We’ll make it work. I know we will.” Eddie suddenly became fidgety, like he was nervous to say what came next. “She’s the one, ya know? I can’t see myself with anyone else.”

K.T responded by looking at him with adoration and a hint of something else. Something Eddie couldn’t put his finger one. “What is it?”

“Oh...it’s nothing,” K.T gently shook his head. “It’s just that, who knew Anubis House was such a place for matchmaking. You and Patricia. Nina and Fabian. Heck, even Willow and Alfie are still going strong. Sometimes I just feel like I missed out, that’s all.”

Eddie playfully hit her on the shoulder. “Hey now, I don’t want to hear any of that self-deprecation. You are a total catch, K.T Rush, and you are going to make one very, very lucky girl extremely happy one day.”

K.T jokingly rolled her eyes, but Eddie continued speaking. “Now, where is that tacky tourist New York City experience I was promised? I didn’t fly all the way here just to sit in a coffee shop all day and worry over Fabian and Nina. Let's go!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the door. Eddie Miller was promised a tour of NYC, and a tour of it he shall receive.

A couple hours later, hours full of buying extremely tacky NYC decor from touristy shops, taking even more tacky selfies from NYC tourist staples and plenty of food pit stops. K.T and Eddie's phones dinged simultaneously. It was a text from Nina.

"Could y'all come back to the apartment? We need to talk."

"Oh boy," K.T breathed.

"Oh, boy, indeed," Eddie agreed. "Be there in 15." He responded to Nina's text as the two made their way towards the newest Subway stop and made their way back to K.T and Nina's apartment.

--------

When the two walked in, Nina was sitting on the couch.

"Nins, hey there girl!" K.T called out nervously, trying desperately to hide her nerves and caution the blow.

Nina turned her head and her expression was all but the smiling girl K.T had grown to love. "K.T...Eddie...."

"We can explain," Eddie began.

"I'm all ears," Nina gestured to the open seats beside her. Eddie and K.T sat beside her, looking like a couple deers who were caught in headlights. As much as they loved Nina, she could be pretty terrifying. Even without her ability to call on the Egyptian Gods whenever she pleased, an unhappy Nina Martin was a Nina you wanted to steer clear from.

“Where do we start? Why don't you go ahead, Eddie?" K.T shot her glance over towards the boy sitting next to her. "After all, what were you saying earlier, you have known Nina and Fabian the longest and you do know them better..as her osarian and all that fun stuff."

Eddie grimaced at the way K.T used his previous words against him like a weapon. "Yeah...where do we start?"

Nina interrupted him before he had the chance to begin, though. "How about how the two of you know one another? And what happened senior year?”

Eddie and K.T chuckled nervously. “That’s a really funny story, actually,” Eddie began.

“Eddie,” Nina pleaded, “I stayed away to try and protect you all from any more curses and danger craziness. You said something about a great evil? And, K.T, you know about Sibuna?”

No longer did Nina sound angry about Eddie and K.T messing around in her relationship with her and Fabian’s relationship nor was she sad about what Fabian had told her, but rather she sounded like a friend who was desperate to protect those whom she loved. So, K.T and Eddie told her everything. They told her of keys and visions, of crypts and frozen men, of secret sisters, of sinners and tricks and, as they told her, Nina’s heart broke with every word.

#i wanted to make it very very clear that KT and Eddie are nothing more than a couple of besties #so i hoped that y’all enjoyed that peddie update #house of anubis #hoa #houseofanubis #sibuna #fabina #nina martin #fabian rutter #kt rush #eddie miller

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

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This Night

Summary: After the Winchesters rescue her from the clutches of some no name demon, she has trouble facing the dark alone. Dean decides to try and help her take her mind off the memories that haunt her dreams.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5.7K+

Warnings: Language, descriptions of torture, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, post traumatic stress, angst all around

Square Filled: Road Trip

Author’s Note: Written for @spngenrebingo . This fic was inspired by Luke Bryan’s “I Don’t Want This Night To End”, it doesn’t have exactly the same feeling but it gave me the idea so...I love comforting Dean with all my soul. Also, not sorry about the another plus size reader but I can never find any when I look so this is my furthered contribution to the collection of them. xo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

The tip of the angel blade poked between the buttons of her blouse and with a small flick of the demon’s wrist, it popped the seam holding them in place. Her blouse fell open further revealing her chest to the demon.

“You know, I never quite understood why the Winchester ever kept you around.” He seethed, running the blade over the swell of her left breast and breaking the skin. Warm blood trickled down her abdomen. At this point, her body had become almost numb to the pain he was inflicting on her. This had nothing on the punches to her jaw or the kicks to her ribs. Each breath she took felt like someone was shoving a hot poker in her chest. It didn’t even compare to the other cuts that littered her body between her fingers, on her neck, face and body. The one across her stomach would still trickle blood if she moved too quickly.

“You’re not a good hunter. And they certainly don’t keep you around to look at.” He gestured non committedly at her plump figure that hung from the shackles raising her arms above her head. The chains were holding up most of her weight, only her toes had contact with the ground.

“Fuck you.” She spit down at his feet, the blood mixed with her saliva splashing against the dirty concrete. Her words were weaker than she was hoping, her body too far into survival mode to care about talking.

“Oh, hit a nerve there on that one didn’t I, princess? So who is it? Which one are you holding a torch for?” The demon stepped up close to her, their chest nearly touching as he searched her face. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to read her expression. “Maybe it’s Sammy boy and those freakishly long legs?” He paused to gauge her reaction before continuing. “Or maybe it’s the brooding and pensive martyr, Dean-o?”

She couldn’t help the way her eye averted from the demon, giving her away completely. “Ah, it is Dean. Should’ve guessed it sooner I suppose. Girls like you always want what they can never have.” She cried out when he gripped a chunk of her hair and forced her head back to open up her neck to him. He sniffed against her sweat and blood soaked skin before nuzzling his nose against her pulse. A grimace crossed her face as a chill ran up her spine.

“You’ve seen the sluts that Dean takes home from the bars and fucks in seedy motel after seedy motel. How could you ever think he would even look twice at you?” The demon’s voice was barely above a whisper as he poked the tip of the angel blade into the hollow of her cheek. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes to prepare herself.

“So why waste your time protecting those idiots. Tell me where they are and what they are up to and I’ll let you waltz right out that door.” It was a tempting offer, but she doubted that the demon would hold up his end of the bargain. No, she would die protecting the Winchesters. After all, it was like he had said, she had nothing else to offer them except to maybe give them a little more time to finish the trials. That would be her gift to the men that she called family. The two idiots that she loved.

“Yeah right, I do that and you kill me anyway. I’ll bid the Winchesters some time so your ass rots in Hell forever.” It took everything in her to muster up the false bravado now on display for this no name demon.

“Have it your way.” He growled before swiping the blade across her cheekbone. The sound of her shrieks reverberated off the solid walls.

Y/n sat up straight in her bed, her chest heaving with every breath and her sweat soaked pajamas clinging to her clammy skin. It took her a second to take in her surroundings and determine she was still in her bedroom of the bunker and not back in the hands of that demon. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

Why she thought tonight would be any different from the rest, she wasn’t exactly sure. The same nightmare had plagued her every night since she had been saved by the Winchesters, and every night she woke up in a cold sweat. This time she could only hope that her body was exhausted enough that she wouldn’t dream at all. She had been wrong.

Climbing out of her bed, she stripped herself of her soaked pajamas and grabbed her robe and a change of clothes. The bunker was quiet as she made her way to the showers. Sam and Dean had gone to bed before she had and even though she didn’t check her phone, she was sure that it was still the middle of the night.

She started one of the showers, turning the water as hot as she could stand it and stepped under the spray. The steam in the air and the heat of the water against her skin helped to relax her tense muscles. She took her time in washing away the sweat from her skin but didn’t bother with her hair this time. When the water began to run cold, she decided it was time to get out. Grabbing a clean towel, she patted her body dry before wrapping it around her torso. She padded over to the sinks and wiped away the steam from the mirror. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as she leaned forward to inspect her face. The large scar on her cheek was still an angry red color. Being a hunter, scars weren't anything new, but this one was refusing to fade and only served as a constant reminder of those few days she was held captive. The demon’s words were still fresh in her mind as if he was still standing next to her and whispering them in her ear.

“How could you even think he would ever look twice at you?”

Dean appeared almost instantly at the rear door, pulling it open as it squeaked in protest. He held out his hand for her but she resisted. Instead she opted to drag herself out of the impala. The frown on his face at her refusal didn’t go unnoticed by the hunter.

“Dean, I’m fine.” She got out through her gritted teeth as she tried to hide the grimace on her face. She used the door to haul herself to her feet, but even she wasn’t strong enough to hide the whimper that fell from her mouth as she tried to stand up straight.

“Oh, yeah, you’re perfect.” He mocked. “Please quit being stubborn and let us help you to your room.” Y/n bit the inside of her cheek as she contemplated his offer. On the one hand she was exhausted and just wanted to sleep for a few days. On the other, every fiber in her being was trying to pull away from both the Winchesters. It was irrational, she knew that, because deep down she trusted these men more than anything, but the words of the demon were still too fresh in her mind. That was kind of the whole point though, was to sow the seeds of doubt in her mind. She just hated how well it had worked.

Y/n nodded, her movement slight as she threw her arm over Dean’s shoulder so he could help her inside. Careful not to put too much of her weight on him, she let him guide her to her room. It was easier for her to move with his help, though she wouldn’t admit it.

“Sammy, can you grab the first aid kit from the infirmary?” Dean looked over his shoulder at his little brother, who nodded and headed the opposite way without a word. Dean helped her sit down on the edge of her bed, his jaw ticking as he noticed her flinch again.

Y/n kicked off her shoes, letting them fall wherever in her room as she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to pull the kinks from her still stiff muscles. Her head perked up as she heard Sam coming back down the hall. She watched as he handed the kit off to Dean, who nodded ever so slightly before closing the door behind Sam as he once again retreated. Her eyebrows scrunched as Dean turned back around.

“Take your shirt off, kid.” Dean indicated as he set the kit on the bed next to her.

“Excuse me?” His words had caught her off guard and she blinked her eyes as she tried to focus herself.

“Come on, your shirt is stained in blood. I know you are covered in cuts, just let me stitch you up.” Dean didn’t even look at her as he began taking items out of the kit. Alcohol, gauze, thread and a needle. All of it screaming at her as his words sunk in.

“I’ve stiched myself up before, I’ve got this.” She tried waving him off and reached for the alcohol. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her movements.

“Damn it Y/n, stop being so stubborn. You can barely move. I’m doing this, end of story.” His tone left her no room for argument. Normally, Dean didn’t phase her, she wasn’t one to back down from him. But now, she would do anything to keep him from raising his voice more than he already had. She knew that there was no way he could know what his words would do to her, so she couldn’t blame him for just being Dean.

“Fine.” Her voice was barely audible as her shaky fingers undid the last few buttons the demon hadn’t popped on her blouse. She pulled the ruined material from her body, pieces of the fabric sticking to her injuries where the blood had begun to dry. Now, in just her flimsy bra, whose material left little to the imagination, she felt more exposed than ever.

As she finished taking off the offending fabric, Dean grabbed a towel from the kit and wet it down in the sink that sat in her room. He squatted down in front of her, dabbing the cool towel against the wound on her breast. She flinched from his touch, her body going rigid. His gaze was set on his task as heat crept up her cheeks and she was thankful that he was refusing to make eye contact with her.

In all the times she pictured Dean getting her out of her shirt, this certainly was not one of them. Right now, she felt nothing but shame. Shame at the rolls that sat on her abdomen, shame at bruises forming under her ribs and the second gash on her flabby stomach. But mostly, shame that she ever let a demon get the jump on her in the first place. She was a poor excuse for a hunter, and now the Winchesters felt like they had to nurse her back to health.

Dean moved on to the one on her stomach, cleaning away the blood on it as well. “These two aren’t too deep. I should be able to clean them up with some alcohol and let them heal.” He set the towel down and traded it for alcohol soaked gauze. Y/n hissed when it touched her open wound.

“‘M sorry.” Dean frowned, actually looking up at her this time. She didn’t respond to him, her eyes flitting away from him as the tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Really, she wanted to ease his guilt by telling him it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words, not when she didn’t really believe them herself. That only made her feel guilty too.

When she first stumbled upon the Winchesters, she had heard the stories, she knew what kind of fate followed them and those associated. Beside her better judgement though, she fell for those stupid loveable boys. They became too much like family for her to walk away, and that had become her undoing this time. So while it wasn’t actually Dean’s fault, she couldn’t help thinking how she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for those damned Winchesters. And sure, as a hunter she wasn’t naive to the fact that her life would consist of nothing but blood and death, but she had never experienced anything on this scale. She couldn’t help wishing that the demon had just finished the job.

Dean stood up and grabbed the towel again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pursed them. This time, he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, his fingers turning her head so he could see the gash on her cheek.

“This one is pretty deep though, I’m going to have to stitch it up.” He commented as he cleaned away the dried blood. Y/n closed her eyes, she had figured as much, but that didn’t make the affirmation any easier. When the demon had but the blade against her skin, she had known it was worse than the others. In his rage, he had done some real damage, and now she was going to have to live with that reminder on her face everyday for the rest of her life.

“This is gonna sting.” He added, touching the gauze to her cheek before she could react. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek as he disinfected the wound. This wouldn’t even be the worst of it.

“We don’t have anything to numb it either, unfortunately.” Dean added once he exchanged the gauze for the needle.

“Mm, on my desk.” Y/n got out, her hand waving towards the wooden piece of furniture. Dean furrowed his brow and looked over, seeing what she was insinuating sitting there in the corner. He got up to fetch the whiskey and handed it over to her. Her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle and she tipped it back, taking as much as she couldn handle into her mouth and swallowing. The burn down her throat was harsh, but the instant numbness that spread through her body was welcomed. Having an empty stomach certainly helped as well. She took another long pull before offering it to Dean. He took it without word and copied her actions, handing the bottle back to her.

With one last drink from the bottle, she shook her head and let out a long breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” Dean nodded and sat back down. Y/n closed her eyes in anticipation. She tried counting in her head as she waited for Dean to start, anything to focus her mind away from what was to come.

A grunt forced its way up her throat and out her nose as the needle pierced her skin. Her tongue was caught between her teeth now as she fought everything in her to not scream. It would only serve to mess Dean up, and she would end up more mangled than she already was. Instead, her hand flew to Dean’s thigh, her fingers squeezing into the jean clad limb.

With all her strength put behind the action, she knew she had to be hurting him, but the hunter never even acknowledged that she had touched him. Dean took all that she had to give him without even a blink of his eye.

The tears in her eyes spilled over the corners and ran down the inside of her cheeks. Dean’s thumb came up and brushed away the one on the cheek he was working on.

“I’m done, kid. You can let go of me now.” There was a hint of amusement behind his soft tone as he kept her jaw cradled in his hand. Her eyes flew open, heat once more brandishing her cheeks as she let go of him like she had been electrocuted.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Dean smiled at her, their eyes locking together for a moment before he cleared his throat and began to clean up. “Uh, you’ll have to keep that dry for a few days, so uh… just be careful when you take a shower.” He rambled on as he tossed the bloody gauze before moving to rinse the towel out in the sink.

“Thanks, Dean.”

Dean turned back to her, his own eyes gleaming in the low light of her room. “Anyday, kid.”

It wasn’t news to her that Dean was out of her league and no matter the torch she held for the hunter, she had resigned to that fact a long time ago. But there was something about having her own thoughts reaffirmed out loud by a total stranger that managed to break her. Now she has this hideous thing on her face and all hope she ever had was lost in the wind.

With a sigh, she rubbed in some of her scar diminishing cream and pushed the thoughts out of her mind. Once she could get some control over these nightmares, she was out of here anyway. There was no reason for her to stick around. If she was being honest with herself, she was just scared of being picked up again for more information on the Winchester because she knew in her heart that she would do the same thing. She would defend them with her life, but she wasn’t sure that her heart could handle being rescued again. It was these moments in the quietest hours of the nights that she wishes she had never been saved at all. Though she was quick to swallow them down deep and hide them away for another night.

Y/n ran a comb through her hair and tossed it into a heap on top of her head before getting dressed. As she exited the bathroom, she ran straight into a solid form. Dean’s hands flew out to steady her.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, not meeting his eye. He frowned at her as he took in the scene in front of him. There was humid air falling from the room behind her and he caught the distinctive scent of her body wash. Her favorite old concert tee was tucked into the front of her high waisted jeans.

“It’s fine. Did you just take a shower?” He let his hands fall from her shoulders. She glanced behind her and chuckled a little.

“Oh yeah, sorry if I woke you.” the apology slipped past her lips before she could think twice about it. It was a bad habit that she had developed since she had been saved by the boys, though she wasn’t exactly sure where it had originated from.

“You didn’t, it just… it’s two am Y/n/n.” Dean’s tongue pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I was a little gross, didn’t feel like waiting ‘till morning. No biggie.” Y/n made a move to side step Dean but he put himself back in her way. Her eyes scrunched closed as her body tensed and Dean instantly felt like an asshole, he should have known his movement would have triggered her.

“Listen, I have a proposition for you. Meet me at Baby in ten?” Dean lowered his shoulders and took a step out of her personal space.

“Dean, I-”

“Please?” He interrupted her train of thought. With a sigh, she nodded her head and went for her room. She slipped on socks and a pair of shoes and grabbed her flannel. Once she was satisfied that she had what she needed for whatever it was that Dean had planned, she made her way down to the garage. To her surprise, he was already there, loading that old green cooler into the back seat.

Dean smiled when he noticed she had entered the garage. “Hop in, sweetheart.”

“Where are we going?” Her curiosity peaked as she climbed in the passenger seat.

“For a drive.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and pulled the impala out into the night. He stuck in her favorite cassette tape and turned it down to a reasonable level.

“I know that, but where to?”

“Will you just trust me?” Dean turned to her and smiled for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.

“I trust you with my life.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. She could see out of the corner of her eye the way Dean’s jaw ticked and she wished she could take it back.

These last few weeks had been hard on the Winchesters too. Both of them felt overwhelmingly guilty for her capture and she knew that. Once Dean had stitched her up, he could barely look at her. She assumed it was because of how mangled and frail she looked after a week of being in the demon’s capture. Really, it was the guilt he felt in his heart every time he saw the way she grimaced when she moved or the scar across her face. Sam wasn’t any better either. It took Y/n snapping at him to ‘shut up already’ when he had apologized to her for the thousandth time. None of it was their fault, really and she knew that, but what she wanted more than anything was to just move on and they were not making that easy for her.

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, only the purr of the impala’s engine and the soft lull of the cassette playing to keep them company. Y/n’s gaze was fixed out the window, watching the passing landscape and counting the stars. She had never taken a good look at the countryside of Kansas on their many trips away from the bunker. The plains spanned out from the two lane highway, a beautiful piece of undisturbed Earth. Right now, she could imagine herself laying down in the middle of one of the fields, the plush greenery underneath her body a perfect cushion as she closes her eyes and succumbs to the darkness.

The soft click of the song changing caught her attention. The soft melody was instantly recognizable. Dean’s eyes flickered to her as she leaned to turn the song up, a ghost of a smile passing her lips. He couldn’t help the smile that now graced his own features as she mumbled along to the lyrics. It was the first time since they had brought her home that he had noticed the tension dissipate from her shoulders.

Dean came in on the chorus, his voice only a fraction of a decibel louder than her own, but it got her attention. Her head snapped to him, her eyebrows raised on her forehead before both of them put their all into the song.

By the time the song faded, Y/n was giggling in the seat next to Dean. The sound gripped his heart in it’s fist, it was the most amazing thing he had heard in a long time. Even under its iron grip, it was like music to his ears. He wanted to spend all night just making her laugh. That’s when he got the perfect idea. Really, he had no plan other than to just drive when he shoved her into the passenger side of the impala, but now he understood where they had been headed the whole time.

It was someplace he had discovered not long after they had found the bunker. He had needed a moment to cool off and went on a drive much like tonight and stumbled upon the deserted clearing. Actually, he hadn’t been back since. Life had become hectic, leaving little time for leisure and eventually the place had slipped his mind. Now, he knew it could be exactly what Y/n needed just like it had been for him all those years ago.

As he turned down the gravel road, he noticed her interest peaked at his change of course. Her eyes were even more focused on her surroundings, darting back and forth as they passed under a canopy of trees. When the foliage cleared, the lake made its appearance, the moonlight bouncing over the soft waves on the surface.

Dean pulled the impala as close to the dock as he could and put her in park. “Come on, kid.” He leaned over with a smile and patted Y/n’s knee before climbing out of the car. The warm late summer air had a tinge of humidity. Sounds of insects and the water rolling onto the shore hit both of them as they walked towards the small wooden dock that extended into the water.

“What are we doing here?” She asked him as she followed behind him. The old wood creaked under their weight, causing the water to splash around its base.

“We,” He smirked as he began to shrug off his flannel. “Are going for a swim.” Dean toed off his boots, pushing them away with his discarded flannel.

“We’re what?” She couldn’t help the rise in her voice as she watched him continue to strip. First his t-shirt before he moved on to his belt. Y/n swallowed, the action caught in her throat as he shimmied his jeans down his thighs. He stood back up, now only in his dark briefs.

“Swimming. That’s a lake, people do that in lakes.” Sarcasm was heavy in his words as he stepped to the edge of the dock. Dean winked before turning his back to her and diving into the dark water. Running to the edge she peered into the abyss, unable to make out anything in the night. A scream of his name was on the tip of her lips just as his head broke the surface.

Dean shook the water from his head, his grin wider than a kid in a candy store. “Come on, kid. Jump in!” He hollered to her as the gentle waves around him splashed upon his face. She could tell from her vantage he was standing on the sand below, but the water was almost veiling the entire spanse of his broad shoulders and that meant that she would need to be on her toes to keep her own head above water.

“You are insane, Winchester! I am not getting in that water!”

“Chicken.” He taunted her.

“Uh yeah, you’re right. I have this thing about jumping into bodies of water that I can't see the bottom of.” She wasn’t lying to him, but she also wasn’t telling him the whole truth. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to strip down into her bra and underwear in front of Dean. And she certainly wasn’t jumping into the water in them.

“If you don’t jump, I’m just going to have to come up there and pull you in, clothes and all.” He jested.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her smile fell, knowing full well that he would. Dean cocked an eyebrow before moving to the edge of the pier. He reached up, the muscles in his arms rippling as he began to tug himself up. “Ah! Okay, okay!” Dean halted his movements but didn’t back off.

“I hate you so much.” Her chide remark lost on a triumphant Dean. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek as she turned away from him and began to undress. Her fingers were shaky as she tossed the items aside. It was too late to go back now that she was only in her bra and panties, but for some reason the idea of taking the plunge somehow scared her even more.

“I’m waiting.” Dean sang out from below her.

“Alright, hold your horses.” She barked and moved back to the edge. Screwing her eyes shut she leapt from dock, the cool water surrounding her as she slipped under the surface. The water was just cool enough to be refreshing, but it was also able to clear some of the fuzziness in her head before she broke back above the gentle waves. She wiped the water from her face and blinked a few times, finding Dean just inches in front of her.

“Holy..” She breathed out. Somehow Dean knew exactly what she needed. It was like a light switched had been flipped in her head. Something about the way the dark water enveloped her body was comforting in a way she never remembered it ever being. Maybe it had something to do with the night sky above her, or even the solitude of the moment.

“I know.” Dean smirked, that air of arrogance once again crossing his features. As much as she loved the hunter wading in front of her, he could be such a smug man. She hated it and loved it at the same time. It was all a part of the Dean Winchester charm.

“Alright,” She rolled her eyes at him. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the satisfaction. Dean flicked the water between them at her face, surprising her. She retaliated, giving a bit more force behind her action and sending water cascading over his face. Dean threw his head back and chuckled.

“Oh, kid you do not want to start.”

“Hey! You splashed me first.” She defended as Dean pursed his lips. A smirk appeared on her lips as she figured she had won this fight, only for Dean to use both hands to splash her. The force of the wave sending her underwater for a second.

“Winchester!” She spit the water from her mouth once she breached the surface again. Dean was laughing again and she grit her teeth. He asked for this. Y/n leapt onto the tall hunter, putting all her force into dunking him under the water. Dean flailed under her for a moment before his hands found her waist and he pulled her under along with him. After a beat, he brought both of them back to surface. Dean shook the water from his hair as she wiped it from her face. Both of them bust out laughing again as they got their bearings in the water. Dean still had his hands around her waist and on instinct her arms had gone around his neck.

For a moment, Dean’s plan had worked wonders. All of the memories and worries haunting her mind had slipped away. It was just the two of them giggling like children in the cool water. That is until she realised their proximity to each other. Even in the light from the moon, she could make out the mixture of gold and emerald in his iris’ and the sheer number of freckles that adorn his cheeks and nose. Dean was gazing right back at her, taking in the barely visible flush in her cheeks and the way the water dripped from the edges of her lashes and the tip of her nose. It took her clearing her throat and glancing away to break him from his trance.

Tightening his grip around her waist, Dean’s hands slid up her back to push her body as close to his as he could. He nuzzled his nose against hers as she gasped, the noise sharp in the quiet night.

“Dean.” Her breath fanned over his face and Dean closed his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?” Dean didn’t respond with words, instead choosing to show her. He knew that she was fully aware of his intentions, but that she was more worried about why. Why he chose her, or more importantly to him, why he would keep choosing her. Dean’s lips brushed against her own, the pressure almost non existent. He still wanted to give her the option to stop him. When she didn’t, he pulled away and kissed her again with a little more force. Then again, and again, and again, until she was meeting him in the middle. Her blunt fingernails were now digging into the skin at the base of his skull as she pulled him to herself, all hesitation floating away with the waves. Y/n tilted her head back and opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth and move against her own. There was something about the way he tasted to her, there was not one thing she could pinn down, all of it intoxicatingly Dean Winchester.

As she began to slip out of his grasp, Dean’s hands flew to the back of her thighs, encouraging her to wrap them around his waist. Too drunk on his mouth against her own, her body complied of its own accord. Her whole body clung to him like he was her life line, which she supposed he was. Even with everything she went through and all the doubts in her head, she knew with all her heart that if she let go of Dean, she would drown.

Dean pulled his lips from hers, his chest heaving as he fought for air. “Damn, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Honestly?” She nodded. “After we finally found you, you were so broken. I couldn’t help but feel guilty about that. Guilty about not protecting you. And you had changed, rightfully so. You weren’t the same girl I had stupidly fallen in love with. I didn’t know how to help you, hell I can’t even help myself out of that hole half the time.”

“So what changed?”

“You did. You bouncing your head to the beat of the music in Baby. It was you trying to drown me in a lake and laughing like the world was no longer on your shoulders. I’m sorry but I couldn’t keep this feeling in any longer.” He ran his hand over her wet locks.

“Don’t be. Thank you Dean, for all of this. I don’t want this night to end.” Her words lowered into a soft whisper as she made her confession.

“It doesn’t have to, kid. I’m here now.” Dean’s lips were soft but demanding as he stole her breath away one last time, pouring all his emotions and promises into his movements. He would be damned (again) if he ever let her go again.

Forevers: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @grease222 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfics @witandnargles @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @geeksareunique @akshi8278

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theratopia · 3 years

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Hi, friends,

How are you doing? Somebody should ask.

I feel like I’m contractually obligated to send at least one question per year, and it’s already June. I started writing this update in April, but you’ll understand why it took me so long to finish this in a few moments.

I have been inside my house for over a year now, since April 2020. To be precise, I went to the doctor once in July, then across the street twice in November to vote, then out once more this month for another doctor’s appointment. Between those, I spent stretches of 4 to 7 months inside my house. Do I feel like I’m losing contact with reality? A little bit. Another reason to reach out and tell you how life is in Groundhog Day-land, and thank you for all the support.

The reason why it’s taking me over a month to write this is twofold: I started a room renovation in late March, and when I got close to the end of it, I got Covid-19 again. “Again?”, you would ask me. Ah, yes, again. Because apparently staying inside for a whole year is not enough. We are not sure what caused the first contamination, but the most recent was caused by a birthday party. The neighbors downstairs invited half of their family to drink and yell during a Saturday afternoon. A few days later all inhabitants of all four houses in our complex begin presenting symptoms. For my sister and me, it was the second episode; first for my parents.

Many times in my life I have dealt with the fear of dying or losing a family member. There is no getting used to it. We were in a constant state of panic for two weeks. Even though I recovered well, I am now dealing with post-Covid syndrome, which is a thing and it’s as fun as it sounds. So, not only I have to kick this disease in the balls twice and tell death “not today”, but I also have to tell the lasting effects to fuck off already.

Oh, and the neighbor who started all this? By my estimations, he contaminated between 14 and 20 people. And then he died. But don’t worry, he was a piece of shit. His family is acting like nothing happened, receiving guests almost daily.

Pandemic? Who’s she?

But please, when does it end?

Vaccination is a desire for the future, but it should be coming sooner rather than later since some mayors have decided to compete which town finishes immunization faster. Thankfully, all my grandparents are fully vaccinated and my immediate family got at least their first shot. In my household, I’m the only one still waiting. Best case scenario, I get the first shot next month and the second one a month later. Or it could be postponed to September, with a three month waiting period for the second shot. Until then, continuous isolation is the safest bet.

So here I am to tell you how have I been surviving inside.

Most of my life during these 14 months has been confined to a desk, a chair, and the lower bunk bed. I don’t even have the entire room for myself. The majority of my day happens within an area of 16 sq. ft. I measured. Don’t get me wrong, I am still able to recognize my privilege of being able to not go out for as long as I have. However, as much as I enjoy staying inside, feeling trapped I do not. I am unable to physically move anywhere, which translates into feeling like I can’t move forward with my life. Barstow is still Barstow, but now smaller and more dangerous.

So, to escape and to exercise my stubbornness of not giving up I had to come up with strategies to grow inwards.

I tell you all this because I know that the PodTherapy community was and is a great source of inspiration to better myself even when everything feels hopeless. This show keeps me grounded and motivated. I started working out of Nick, I have been journaling more because of Jim, I have been trying to keep myself busy with projects around the house because of Jacob. I listen to you every week and I feel less alone. The therapod community and the scoop community are the only reasons why I look at Twitter, which I had to abandon for weeks because I realized it was making me so hopeless that I started to shut down mentally and have physical effects of anxiety. I have been avoiding the news too because it literally raises my blood pressure.

To forge some type of normalcy into my hermetic life, I have been focusing on keeping a schedule that separates the days with different tasks. Time has a bit of meaning again and things get slowly done. I need to move my body and my mind, otherwise, the dread makes me numb.

I have realized how strong I am, which is a weird one. I am also once again grateful to have a supportive and loving family that is still happy to be together after all this. I’m tired, but I’m fine. Oh, and the “focus on the now” advice is not the best one when the present is this. I have to cling to a future. I have to tell myself that whatever I’m doing now is because it will improve tomorrow. And, sometimes, to remind me of how much I have conquered so far, I find refuge in the good memories.

I guess it’s all of this and The Sims, that’s how I’ve been keeping myself sane.

If I could I would write much more because I love to add a bit of a South American, LGBT+, female flavor to this American white dude conversation. I threatened you that I was going to write in every week, so we’ll see how long this bit lasts.

I understand that in the US the pandemic seems to be over and you guys are all happy about it, but that’s just not real. The pandemic is not over. And remember that if your country has an abundance of vaccines to reach the majority of your population it’s because the rest of the world was left with the scarcity.

Now, I have simple questions. Am I doing it right? What else do I do? Is there anything else I can do living this mandatory recluse life?

Miss you all very much,

Triple hug,

The Mayor

#podtherapy #theunproductiveblog #letters #podcast #personal

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mostfacinorous · 4 years

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Stoki Whumptober Day 26: If you thought the head trauma was bad... [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25]

When Loki roused again, it was not for supper, as Steve had promised, but rather late into the next day.

He quickly checked himself for the stone, then sat up, marveling at the darkness that existed inside of a room without electric lights or magic to show the way.

Speaking of, he lifted his hand and flicked his wrist, creating a tiny witch light to better see his way to the restroom with-- and immediately panicked.

He could feel the power-- it was there, in his hand, and he was holding it. He banished it and tried it again.

“Everything okay?” A voice asked, and Loki extinguished the flame, jolting with shock before recognizing it as Steve’s.

“Steve?” He asked, nearly hyperventilating now.

“What is it, Loki?” Steve was at his side in an instant, one hand settling between Loki’s shoulder blades.

“I can’t see anything-- I--” Loki lifted his hand to his own face and waved it around, able to feel the air in front of him being disturbed, but not see the motion itself.

Steve sucked in a shocked breath.

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, let’s figure this out. Maybe it’s like your voice-- your vision was blurry and messed up yesterday, right?”

Loki nodded, unable to find words.

“Okay, deep breaths. I’m not gonna leave you alone, we’ll figure this out, and if you can’t heal yourself, we’ll just have to get you to someone who can, okay?”

Loki did his best to try and relax. He needed to be calm before he tried anything like using seidhr on himself.

And then he remembered why he’d been trying to get up in the first place.

“Steve… I need to use the restroom.” He hated this, hated feeling so vulnerable and intimately dependent.

“Okay, sure, no problem. They’ve got outhouses here, so we’re gonna have to get you up, put some shoes back on you. Here we go, just swing your legs off the bed, I’ll get the shoes.”

Loki let himself be coaxed into a seated position and tried not to panic or cry while Steve gently got him dressed. The concentrated effort of schooling his face at least distracted him until Steve finished with that, and stood.

“Alright. You ready to go?”

Loki, without thinking, just shook his head no. “Sorry-- context. Is it day or night, are there people about, do they know you, do they expect me to speak…?”

“It’s the middle of the night, no one should be up, and the last they saw of you, you were passing out in the street. No one will think twice of me helping you to the privy. Promise.”

Loki exhaled shakily.

“Alright. Only remember I cannot see-- if anyone is around, please address them. And if there is anything in my path.”

“I’ve got you.” Steve promised, and took Loki’s hands in his. “Up we get.”

Loki had forgotten that Steve was nearly as strong as an Asgardian, but was pleasantly reminded when his legs initially refused to bear his weight, and Steve caught him against his chest.

Loki righted himself, however, and refused to consider swooning like a maiden just to get further time with Steve’s arms around him.

He had a feeling, right now, that all he needed do was ask-- or cry-- and it would happen on its own. And he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Steve led him through the house, careful to tell him where they were each time they entered a new room, and to warn him of steps down into the rear yard of the house, across the yard and then--

Loki smelled the latrine before they reached it, and must have made a face, because Steve laughed a little.

“I know. But I promise, the seat itself is kept nice and clean. The ladies would revolt otherwise.”

Loki let Steve lead him up and into the outhouse, then sensed when he faltered.

“I think I can manage not to piss myself.” He said lightly. “This much I have done in the dark before.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but Loki assumed he nodded before backing off, and he waited til he heard the door closing before dropping trou and seating himself like a child and relieving his poor bladder.

Finished, he stood redressed, and opened the door.

Steve instantly put up a hand and guided Loki down the stairs without complaint.

“Thank you.” Loki said quietly, as they made their way back into the house. “For all of this… it is… I cannot imagine it would be so easy with anyone else.”

Steve snorted. “No, but then, you might’ve made it back already without me, so. Thank you.”

Loki shook his head.

“I think… we should consider making all the rest of the jump in a single bound. I worry how much more I will fall apart in several small leaps, and at least if we make it back, you will have ample help to get me… sorted.”

He meant healed, but the honest truth was, Loki wasn’t entirely sure he would survive another tango with the stone.

Steve paused, Loki running into him as a result.

“That doesn’t seem like it’d be a good idea for you.” Steve pointed out. “Maybe we should wait til we get back to our room to discuss it.”

Loki shrugged.

“Okay, look, nearly there now, just through here.” Steve started moving again, and Loki followed.

Once they were inside of the room, door closed securely, and Loki seated on the bed again, Steve heaved a sigh.

“Okay, so explain to me-- the pros and cons here. Pro, we’d be back, you’d be able to get better help. Cons, whatever it’s doing to you, I assume it’d be bigger and worse?”

“I don’t know.” Loki answered gamely. “It’s got… I wouldn’t say a mind of its own so much as a will of its own. And I didn’t have a terrible reaction to jumping all the way back as far as we were. It’s possible it wants a greater power expenditure, and that my meddling and attempting to control it as I’ve been doing is what’s causing these… setbacks.”

“Okay…” Steve said slowly. “What’s the other possibility?”

Loki pursed his lips.

“I suppose in the opposite side of the spectrum… the power razes through me, and I get burned out. It destroys my ability to use seidhr at all, and we become lost at some point in time, potentially far into the future, if I lose control of it mid jump.”

“Oh.” Steve said faintly. “So no risk, then.” His words sounded strangled as he fought to restrain himself.

Loki heard him kneel beside the bed, and felt him take Loki’s hand in his.

“No.” Steve said. “We take this slow. We let you heal, however long you need, and then we go a little further. We have time, right? All the time in the world, that’s what the stone means.”

“We have access to all the time in the world.” Loki corrected gently, moving one hand to close over the top of Steve’s. “You and I are getting older, a day at a time. We will already return, if everything works perfectly, as different people than who we were, mere moments after we leave.”

“That’s fine. It would’ve happened anyway.” Steve could be stubborn when he wanted, Loki had to give him that much.

“And what if this takes more than a day or two to heal?” Loki asked. “What if we are waiting months between jumps? What if we return to your friends and your hair has gone grey and your face creased with age?”

Steve squeezed Loki’s hand.

“What other option do we have? Because losing you isn’t an option.”

Loki shook his head.

“Let me see what I can manage, as far as healing is concerned. We will discuss and attempt to make plans from there.”

“Okay.” Steve agreed. “But I mean it-- nothing that puts you any more at risk than you have to be.”

Loki huffed and leveraged himself back into a reclined position, leaving his shoes on.

He heard Steve retreat, and then heard him sit down on something that sounded suspiciously wooden.

“Steve…” He asked slowly, “What were you sleeping on before I woke you?”

Steve cleared his throat, and Loki stood, hands out before him, to follow the sound to its source. It wasn’t a large room, and he located the bench with ease and distaste.

“Unacceptable.” He announced.

Steve huffed. “There’s only the one bed, Loki, and I don’t think we’ll both fit.”

“We both fit in a snow shelter not much larger than a coffin, Steve. I think we can manage.”

“I guess I can’t really argue that. But don’t you need some room, for your healing?”

“Healing is internal, Steve. Come to bed.”

Once they had managed to settle themselves, laying on their sides and with Steve’s arms wrapped around Loki, helping to hold him on the bed, Loki closed his eyes and focused inwards.

He almost laughed, but didn’t want to startle Steve too much.

He was blinded. But it seemed he’d done it to himself. No doubt the migraine from before had been light sensitive, and in his stupor, he’d made himself completely not sensitive to light.

He removed it and sighed, glad for that.

“Will you be okay?” Steve asked, voice directly behind him and his breath stirring the small hairs on Loki’s neck.

“I will be. I already am.” Loki answered.

He felt Steve burrow his face into the back of Loki’s shoulder, and couldn’t help but wonder if any of this would still be there in the morning… and beyond, when they returned, would Steve still touch him, hold him, speak kindly to him… or would he create a new distance?

His friends would be suspicious, of course. Probably none moreso than Barnes.

Maybe it was better to end it now, get it over with before Loki could grow too comfortable, too hopeful.

They were going back to their time the next day, Loki decided. Whether Steve liked it or not.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Steve x Loki #Frostshield #capfrost #Whumptober #mcu fic #That writing thing I do

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painted-crow · 4 years

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Submission time #6

Primary Mess

Hi, I’m having trouble figuring out my primary. Could you please help? Secondary wise, I’m a Lion with a Bird model. My family culture is definitely Snake, which probably has influenced my morals. My mother especially is a VERY loud Snake primary.

Paint: Good to know!

Just a reminder to everyone about how the submission format around here works, the original submission will be indented and my comments/responses will be in blue, like this.

Because this one is structured around the quiz, I'm also going to be coloring the quiz questions in pink, just so they're easier to pick out.

I doubt Badger because I'm not really attached to my community. I was at one point, but I doubt some of their beliefs so I've drawn away. Snake I've been evaluating all my relationships and there's no one I trust that much or who I'm that close to. I don't think it bothers me as much as a snake either. Lion just feels like too much. I'm not that righteous. Bird, I don't think I'm that adaptable. Also I doubt I have a system, Idk tho.

Okay, so you're probably an Idealist! You disconnected from your community because of beliefs/ideals, which is a very Idealist thing to do (although it's less firm if the beliefs that pushed you away were extreme--Loyalists will definitely draw a line if their people start hurting others). Importantly, you don't sound very upset about it, which is also very Idealist.

Remember that Lions don't have to be confident or righteous. Burned Lions in particular distrust their own judgment.

Remember that not all Birds are flexible. Some cling hard to their systems, unwilling to change or adjust even small beliefs. Others have a core to their system that they're very firm about, and everything else is adaptable (I'm one of those). Others are willing to change basically anything given enough time and evidence. Systems aren't flexible by definition.

We can Fall/Burn if an integral/core part of our system collapses, or if we lose our confidence in being able to perceive reality accurately enough and make decisions about it. Fallen Birds aren't what you'd describe as flexible, either.

Sorry in advance for this being so long....

Ambivalent answers: (had trouble with)

If people in your family or community disagree with you, is it hard to act against their wishes?

I don’t care about whether or not my community disagrees with me. I would probably feel judged to some degree, but honestly that makes me feel even more stubborn in my decision. I barely know most of the people in my community, they’re only acquaintances. If I cared about what they thought, I would go crazy.

My family is a different matter. I would listen to them and take their opinions into account, but in the end I need to think my decision is right. I’m the one who has to live with it, so I should agree with it too. Sometimes I’ll bend because I may not care too much about the outcome or I can have the outcome fit what I want by listening to others' advice. I have avoided conflict in the past with family members by just shutting up, but most of the time I have a very vocal opinion. (That may relate to my secondary tho.)

I think out of all the answers, I agree with, “Yes, because I have to live with and around them and they can make my life more difficult with their disapproval.” “It might be hard, but I’ve got to do what I think is right.” and “I don’t care about what the larger community says, but if people really close to me are against something, then I’m less likely to go through with it.” It honestly depends on what the situation is.

This seems like more evidence that you're an Idealist primary. Leaning towards Lion so far.

Would you lie to an acquaintance to save their peace of mind?

The key word in this question is acquaintance. I wouldn’t really feel guilty telling a stranger the straight up truth. Lying just makes your life more complicated. It easier to tell people the truth and no one deserves to be lied to. I think that ties into my Lion secondary. I tend to simply tell the truth at most given opportunities. It's just easier. I will hide the truth though. Lying makes me feel icky but simply choosing not to tell someone something doesn't feel quite as wrong. Sometimes I feel guilty about telling the truth about personal things because, “oh no, now this person has power over me and I don’t know if they’re trustworthy.” However, that doesn’t happen too often anymore. I just don't tell anyone when I'm in pain. It's none of their business and why should they care anyway? They have better things to do.

I am usually more careful with my friends though. I still will tell the truth most of the time. It's too hard to keep up a lie and it makes me feel bad. I think the exception to the no lying thing would be if I think the person will attack me for telling the truth. I don't need that kind of emotional abuse.

So basically I chose, “I would if lying made my life easier and it wouldn’t make me feel bad at all.” I didn't think I wouldn’t lie is precise enough. I wasn’t sure exactly what they meant by acquaintance. Like how well do you know this person? Also can I trust them not to lash out at me for telling them the truth?

Since you said lying makes you feel icky, I don't think that's the answer you want to go for--"I wouldn't lie" seems closer to what you mean.

When you’re making a decision and you’re stuck, what should you do?

Honestly, this question makes me feel weird. I need to find what makes sense, but I also have to be able to agree with my decision feelings wise. I will listen to advice from other people and try to learn at least a little about the topic before making a decision. I would probably also freeze up, especially if it’s a sudden decision or there are too many options to choose from.

I chose the, “I need to take a breath…”

This still has me leaning towards Lion for you.

Does disagreeing with your closest friends about something important to you make you love them less?

No, they’re my friends because of who they are, not what they believe. (which I realize is basically almost the same thing, but idk how else to explain) As long as they don’t believe something horrible that involves hurting people our friendship won’t be affected. Your political views or opinions about certain things aren't going to affect our friendship. I may respect them less but it wouldn’t be over something minor or because of one situation. I don’t think I would have been their friend or even liked them very much if they were “bad” people. It takes time for me to really establish someone as one of my closest friends so by then I know them pretty well so something like this is less likely to happen.

Huh, interesting! You might have some Snake to your Sorting.

Which of these statements is more true for you?

I think I would choose to stand by the people I love. There are always exceptions though. If it was about standing with them for a cause, it depends on the cause. If they’re standing for something wrong, like against basic human rights, I don’t think I could support them. I have to be able to stomach it. I trust that my people wouldn’t do something like that though. If it was against a person, I’m afraid I would be biased towards my people. Once I commit I'll stick by them. You can’t just abandon people you love, what’s the point of loving them if you don’t support them?

If you're a Lion, I think you have a Snake model--or you have Snake ideals coded as "good" in your intuition. This seems like a strong possible Sorting for you.

You might yet be a Snake with a Lion model, though.

Vehement answers: (strongly agree)

What’s your top priority?

Automatically my mind went to a specific goal of mine. I felt guilty immediately because shouldn’t it be family? Making the world a better place didn’t even come close. I ended up choosing my goals and feeling incredibly guilty about it. It just seems selfish to say that, but I wanted to be as honest as possible.

Remember, primaries are aspirational, and your knee-jerk reaction isn't necessarily your truest one/what you really think. (The fact that you think it *is* kind of supports the Lion theory, lol.) It's just surface thoughts, or what you've been conditioned to think.

It'd help the quiz if you picked an answer you don't feel guilty for prioritizing. You should feel right in choosing your answers, even if you don't always live up to them.

Would you feel worse abandoning a stranger in need or turning our back on your closest friend?

This one was easy, my closest friend. If it was a stranger who really really needed me I would feel guilty, but I would feel worse abandoning someone I’ve loved for years.

Again, this is either Snake or Lion with a lot of Snakey loyalty baked in.

Loving people is a lot of trouble.

Agreed. Worth it? Idk.

What if everyone you loved left you? They betrayed you, abandoned you, or died, and you’re hurting. What keeps you moving forward?

This one was easy. I don’t think I would survive that. I lost a friend in the past and was just really upset and angry about being abandoned for a long time. I would just harden up and stop letting people in. I would basically just work. Set goals and throw myself into accomplishing them like a machine.

Huh, I don't really know what to say about this Sorting wise. That sounds rough though, I'm sorry you had to go through that :c

What if you realized that absolutely everything you thought true was wrong? The authorities you’d trusted, the beliefs you’d held, the wrongs you’d fought against?

I chose, “I’d have to go sit by myself in a corner….” That trust being broken would be shattering. I don’t have too much faith in authorities, probably because they’re not close to me. Yes, they affect my lives but I have no personal attachments to them. However, having conflicting beliefs is one of the things that really hurts. You don’t know which belief is right, and what if the one you decide is right is really wrong? If all my beliefs were actually proved wrong I’m not sure I would know what to do with myself.

Not to read too much into this, but the word "trust" here is interesting! What is it you're trusting? You say yourself that it's not trust in authority. Other people are important to you, but it seems like you don't lean on them too heavily for your own morality. It seems like you're talking about trust in yourself, and that's the core of a Lion's primary.

You can’t help everyone in the world who needs it, but you wish you could.

I help people when I can and when I see someone who needs me and I choose to walk away I feel guilty. I don't worry about it enough to choose the "It makes me feel like a bad person sometimes," answer.

Fair enough! This doesn't contradict any previous information, so let's keep moving.

Do you listen to your intuition?

This one was fairly simple? Umm it depends, when I have nothing else to go on, yes. Sometimes it's wrong and sometimes it's right. I can trust it with moral decisions most of the time or about certain people. If I get weird vibes, I’ll usually be more wary. Thinking about it now, I’m realizing that I do tend to avoid things that make me feel wrong, and the decisions I’m most assured in usually feel right. I do like to validate my feeling when I can though. I don't value being overly emotional or acting on pure emotion because it can cloud your judgment. I try to validate my feelings with proof before jumping in to things.

Yep, that's a Lion response! Lions can be cautious and want to back up their intuition with evidence, or give decisions time and consideration, but overall they're going to be most confident and stable-feeling when they follow their intuition.

Someone points out a flaw in your logic. Their argument makes sense, but there’s something about it that just bothers you. Do you change your ways because of what they said?

Not right away, no. I would have to go think about it, but it’s pretty unlikely that I’ll change my mind, especially if it's about a moral viewpoint. When it comes to a moral viewpoint, I have usually had an internal debate with myself already. What do I feel is right about this and what is wrong? Unless it really really bothers me and what they pointed out makes me feel like a bad person, I won't change my mind completely. I very firmly believe there is no one yes or no answer to important moral questions. It depends on the circumstances.

That feels very Lion to me, especially the "unless the dilemma makes me feel like a bad person" bit. You have Snakey values, but the source of your moral decision making seems to mostly come from your internal compass.

I’ve taken the quiz multiple times, and read all the primary posts and the ones I've stuck with longest are Snake and Lion. I have thought I was a Bird or a Badger too though.

Please feel free to ignore this if I'm being annoying.

I can see why you landed with the Internal primaries, yeah--and I'm with you, I think you're almost certainly one of those two and you model the other.

I do think you're a Lion who's modeling Snake, though. Your intuition says that Snake ideals are good and worthy, that it's right to be loyal to those you care for--but it sounds to me like you're thinking and talking about it in a very Idealist flavored way.

It's ultimately up to you to decide, but I hope this helps!

--Paint

#sortinghatchats #gryffindor primary #slytherin primary model #slytherin primary #submission #paint speaks #q #sorting yourself

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bigballofstress · 5 years

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I’m Still Your Sunshine (Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader)

Description: A continuation of the songfic “Sunshine” which follows the events of endgame.

Author’s note: hi guys. So I worked really, really hard on this piece, and honestly, I think it turned out really nice. This is the second verse of “You are my Sunshine,” which is kind of a response to the first verse, so that’s how I treated it, with the entire thing in your POV. I really hope you all like it!

I’m still your sunshine

It came back slow, the feeling of being alive -- almost like waking up from a deep sleep just as the sun began to rise, shining through the window of your bedroom. It’s the kind of sleep that leaves you feeling simply refreshed in the morning and ready to take on the day.

Unfortunately, that peace was rather short-lived; it left the moment I remembered what had happened -- the moment I remembered leaving my dad.

Quickly, I shot upright, panic coursing through my veins as I whipped back and forth, searching for my father. Quick, shallow breaths got shorter and shorter by the second, my vision getting more and more blurry when I couldn’t find him right away.

He couldn’t have died, not him. He was way too stubborn to not figure out a way to survive. Right? Right?!

A hand rested on my shoulder, and immediately I jumped around, arms flailing to try and land a hit on the intruder.

“(Y/N), it’s just me!” the voice sounded like it was coming from far away, on the shore of the ocean where I was drowning. There was no air, no light. I couldn’t find my way out. I was scared. I just wanted to see my dad.

I had to find him. He’ll definitely save me, just like he always has -- just like he promised he always would.

“(Y/N), it’s me, it’s Peter! Just calm down, ok?!”

Peter.

I knew Peter. He was the one that dad recruited. I hated him at first, when he’d stolen my spot in the Civil War, but it didn’t take long for him to weasel his way into becoming one of my best friends.

Little by little, my breathing started to slow down. Suddenly, I could feel Peter’s arms around me, keeping me as close as possible until I calmed down. And... my cheeks felt wet, too. I must’ve been crying.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” Peter murmured, refusing to loosen his grip on me for a second. I could only nod into his shoulder as I tried to focus simply on calming down.

Your only sunshine

I glanced over at everyone else, each of them alive and standing just like I was. But... how? And more importantly, how long were we all away?

“Five years.” He seemed to read my mind. Was that one of Dr. Strange’s powers? I didn’t think so, but then again, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with a lot of information.

“My dad?” My voice was hoarse and sounded foreign as I asked about the only thing I really cared about.

“He needs our help,” he stated simply. Ugh, that was just like him, wasn’t it?

“Whatever he needs,” I answered confidently, straightening up and lifting my chin to stare at the man before me. I could see Peter nod out of the corner of my eye as well as all of the -- what did they call themselves? The Guardians of the Galaxy? Oh well, it didn’t matter as long as they were willing to help my dad.

Dr. Strange opened one of those weird yellow circles that he loved so much, and before long, we were jumping through it and onto what looked like a massive battlefield, surrounded by every ally I could have ever imagined.

Still, I was focused on one thing and one thing only: Steve Rogers, the man who used to think of as an uncle until he decided to betray my father. The man who was standing alone.

I managed to catch his eye for a second, but before I could even say anything, he had turned away. It looked like I would have to find my dad on my own.

“AVENGERS!” Steve summoned Mjolnir... wait, WHAT? “...assemble.” Ok, I’ll figure it out later. Time to fight.

I’ll always love you

The fight was unbelievable. I almost couldn’t tell where one side began and the other side ended. Really, I was just focused on hitting anything that looked gross, which was actually working pretty well.

Suddenly, everything stopped.

It.. it was him. He was right there, hugging Peter, and he was ok!

“Dad!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, fresh tears stinging my eyes. Immediately, he looked up and our eyes met.

I started running so hard that I almost fell a few times as my feet struggled to keep up. My chest was tight, each breath fighting to get through the sobs trapped in my throat. But I didn’t care about all of that. All I cared about was seeing him again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was crashing into his arms. Together, the two of us sank to the ground. I could feel him sobbing just as hard as I was as he held me as tight as he could, almost as if he was afraid to let me go again. I wouldn’t even dream of complaining, though. I felt the exact same way.

“I-I thought you were gone,” I gasped shakily, my hands clutching onto anything they could hold to remind myself that he was still there, still with me.

“I would never leave you, sunshine. I’m right here, I promise,” he muttered, pressing a long kiss to the top of my head. “It’s ok. We’re ok.”

Though I’m away

I wanted to stay like that forever, but we both knew it couldn’t happen. Eventually we would have to keep fighting. No matter what, we had to win.

“Scott, how long you need to get that thing working?” My dad was the one who broke the fantasy. Quickly, I wiped my eyes, and together, we stood back up just in time to see a passing Dr. Strange.

“Hey!” I snapped, stopping the wizard in his tracks. “You said one out of 14 million, we win, yeah? Tell me this is it!”

He frowned and glanced at my dad before turning back to me. “If I tell you what happens, it won’t happen.” I searched deeper into his eyes, looking for the cryptic meaning behind his words. There was something there that I couldn’t figure out, but whatever it was, it made me sick to my stomach.

“You better be right,” my dad nodded, laying a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at him, worried.

Something didn’t feel right.

I’m still your sunshine

It was a mad dash for the gauntlet. The flying woman had it for a while, but she lost it when a rusty old van exploded, and now, it was lying on the ground.

Run. I had to run. I couldn’t let Thanos get there first.

My dad covered me and tackled the massive, wrinkly grape, but I wasn’t really paying attention. All I was focused on was the piece of metal lying just a few feet away. I finally reached it, but just before I could grab it, I was sent flying by a large purple hand.

I gritted my teeth together and forced myself back to my feet just in time to see Strange holding up one finger -- a warning but also a reassurance. We could still win.

I screamed and raced forward, tackling Thanos while dad yanked on the gauntlet, but before I could even hope to rip it off his hand, he punched us both away.

I couldn’t believe it. We... we lost. “I am... inevitable.” I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for it to happen all over again. Waiting for that terrible cold feeling to come back.

“And I... am... Iron Man.” My eyes snapped back open to see my dad with a gauntlet of his own.

And he snapped.

And it was all over.

Just only yours dear

After a while of staring in wonder as Thanos’s entire army turned to dust around us, we all came to the same incredible realization.

We really did it.

We actually won.

I turned to my dad, a wide smile on my face, ready to hug him, congratulate him on winning the war for us and probably throw in a few jabs about how he always has to be the biggest hero. Then I saw him. And suddenly, my smile disappeared.

I dragged myself numbly back to my feet, staring at my father where he sat, burns covering the entire right half of his body. If felt like there was a bubble in my chest, pushing against my heart and lungs and stomach. I kept waiting it to fill with terror or anger or grief or something, but it merely sat there. Like it was just waiting to be popped.

Peter ran past me on my right, and I stumbled a bit. I think it was Bucky, or maybe it was Sam, who helped me back to my feet. I didn’t really care who it was. I just kept walking.

I heard FRIDAY say something along the lines of, “Life functions critical,” but it didn’t really register above the ringing sound that was banging against the inside of my skull.

I fell to my knees next to Pepper in front of him, my entire body shaking as I took in just how bad it really was -- as I realized that my dad, my hero and my constant savior, wasn’t going to make it.

“Hey, sunshine,” he whispered.

I took a deep, shaky breath in, forcing back tears. I didn’t want his last moments to be spent seeing me cry. He hated it when I cried. Somehow, he always thought it was his fault when it never really was. “Hey, dad,” I smiled a bit, though we both knew it was fake. “Everyone’s fine now. We’re ok, thanks to you.” My voice broke as the lump in my throat grew overwhelming, keeping me from saying anything more.

Pepper nodded, her hand laid gently on top of my own. “We’re gonna be ok. You can rest now.”

There we sat, watching as the arc reactor in his chest flickered off. Watching as the life left my dad’s eyes. Pepper started crying on his shoulder, but I could only sit back and stare at the man who’d raised me, who had given everything to me, suddenly gone.

And I was alone.

And I’m coming home someday

It was a nice funeral — classy, of course, considering Pepper was the one who put it together. But it still didn’t change the fact that the greatest man I’d ever known — the greatest man this world had ever seen — was gone.

I felt a slight tug on my hand, and I glanced down to see my younger sister -- part of me still couldn’t believe I actually had a little sister. She was staring up at me with wide eyes, curious eyes that looked frighteningly similar to dad’s. She probably didn’t even understand what was going on. Then again, she was her father’s daughter, so she’s probably a genius.

“What’s up, Morgan?” I struggled to smile at least a little bit, crouching down so I could be at her level.

“I’m hungry,” she said simply.

I chuckled a bit. “How ‘bout you and I go get some cheeseburgers?” She nodded back. “Dad always did love those things, huh?” I asked absentmindedly as I led her past the crowd, ducking to avoid the endless stares of pity that followed us, and back inside the little cabin. It was just like the one he used to always dream about taking me to when everything was over — when we wouldn’t have to be heroes anymore.

“We can get as many cheeseburgers as you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

We ate lunch together. She was a good kid. I could tell. And from the moment I first saw her, I made a promise to myself and to my dad that I would protect her since he couldn’t any more, and it seemed like she understood. In no time at all, we had become inseparable.

After lunch, she started yawning, so I took her to her room for a nap. I hesitated a moment after I had tucked her in. I didn’t want to leave just yet. “Hey, how about a lullaby?”

Morgan nodded, and I smiled, settling in next to her so she could lay her head on my lap.

The familiar lullaby left my lips like it was nothing. I was singing my dad’s part -- the part that had gotten me through some of the worst times in my life. It had ended far too quickly. I wanted to stay longer, to be with her. But before I could even think of getting out of the bed, I heard it.

Morgan’s little voice drifting through the bedroom with the same response to the song my dad had taught me so long ago, stopping me in my tracks.

I felt something wet rolling down my cheeks.

I... I was crying.

For the first time since the day of the battle, I was crying. But somehow, I wasn’t too sad. No, it felt more like a reassurance — like suddenly I knew that everything was going to be ok.

I snapped out of my trance long after the song had finished and glanced fondly down at my little sister, who was already half asleep by then.

“I love you,” she mumbled tiredly.

I smiled and laid a gentle hand on her head, smoothing her hair away from her face.

“I love you, too, sunshine.”

Yes I’ll be coming home someday

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark reader insert #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark angst #tony stark sad #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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writingthrones · 5 years

Text

the northern dragon- part 6.

PART 6: REVELATION.

TAGS: @psychosupernatural , @xleviiiix , @ashtronomyyyy , @starkbelova,@5aftermidnight , @makapaka11 , @mxxkscreate-write , @scorpiosmalfoy,@harrison-shot-first , @art-flirt , @jessyballet , @vaexvictis ,@callmeconceited , @cassiopeia-barrow , @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d also like to be tagged!)

DESCRIPTION: the world thought that just 2 dragons survived, that house targaryen was missing its third head. but there was another– the youngest, the final child of the mad king and queen rhaella. of course, she was almost part of the near extermination of her house. but the honorable ned stark, unable to watch a babe be murdered for crimes she did not commit, rescued her from an awful fate. instead, she grew up amongst wolves within the walls of winterfell.

NOTES: what you’ve all been waiting for!

WARNINGS: lots of violence and, of course, angst.

After the attack, it was made clear that a weapon must be carried at all times. You decided on a nicely sized dagger that you wore strapped to your calf under your dress. It was easily concealed and fairly easy to pull out quickly. It’s probably something that you should’ve always had but it was “unladylike,” but you’ve proven yourself to be no lady. From then on out, you were wary. You couldn’t look upon the faces of the men in the same way. It made you more jumpy. You told yourself, though, that it made you more vigilant. It’s just unfortunate that it had to come out of this.

When Robb returned, he made a point to visit that night. You were just about to lay down to sleep when he walked in. “Y/N...” his voice was low. You met his eyes, still sitting down on your bed and offered him a smirk. “Didn’t worry too much, did you?” He sighed, though he smirked as well as he sauntered towards you. The young wolf then crouched in front of you, gently taking your injured hands, “Stop.. tell me, how are you feeling? Really?” The seriousness in his voice caught you off guard, though it did make sense. This wasn’t nothing. That man could’ve killed your or did unspeakable things.. or both. Every ounce of your being wanted to lean forward and close the gap between you two. It was a feeling you’d had many, many times over the years but especially now. In fact, it took all the self control in your little body not to do so. “I’m fine,” you insisted.

Robb sighed and stood up then sat down next to you. “I didn’t think any of my men would do something like that...” he said. It felt like the two of you were kids again and so, acting on that feeling, you leaned your head on his shoulder for comfort. Luckily, he didn’t move yet it still made you nervous. “I’ll see to it that someone gets punished. I--” You stopped him there. Lifting your head, you looked over at him. “Please don’t. I’m fine, I promise. I’ll be more careful, I know how to defend myself. There’s too much going on for you to punish anyone because one man crossed a line.” He looked to you, looking as if he wanted to say something more but instead settled on, “Fine. Just...” Another sigh. “Talisa will be around tomorrow with supplies to properly clean these up, okay?” With that, he headed out.

Of course she was. Sure, you were grateful that someone who was clearly talented in their craft had the supplies necessary to keep the army in the best condition. All you could think about, though, was the time the two of them got to spend alone. Why else would he have brought her along to such an important meeting? Catelyn was right, he fancied her. You wished desperately not to care but you did-- by the Gods, you did. Throwing yourself onto the bed, you eventually dozed off. It wasn’t a restful slumber though, no, you couldn’t stop imagining the things that must’ve happened on that little trip. The images haunted your dreams.

Shortly after you awoke, Talisa walked in, just as Robb promised. The immediate reaction was that of anger and you hated it. She was a kind woman, someone who was helping you greatly and yet you couldn’t help but to feel anger, hate, jealousy. That familiar Targaryen fire burned within your chest. “Here, this should really help,” the dark-haired woman said with a warm, genuine smile. It made you hate yourself for the contempt you felt towards her. She was good and yet you were filled with pitiful jealousy. “Thank you, really.” The words were forced but you did your best to sound truly thankful. It’s not that you weren’t but... still. “I would say they should be fairly healed within a fortnight, just try not to be too rough on your hands until then.” Did this mean Robb would try to keep you out of whatever conflicts that would come about between now and then? You hoped not but deep down you knew these two were.. close and she would surely tell him. Indigo eyes fell upon the fresh wound dressings on your hands before looking back up at her with a smile. “I take it you’re with us for the long haul, then?” She seemed caught off by your tone, as were you. You hadn’t meant for it to come off the way it did you just couldn’t help yourself. “I just mean... you’ve decided to stay with us? We could use someone with real skills,” you quickly added, chuckling to make the air less tense. “Oh.. yes! This war is getting ugly and... I just want to help those getting caught in the middle while the high lords sit in their castles plotting away not giving a second thought to the men who will die for them.” As she went on, she sounded more and more passionate. She truly did care for the people.. it made you feel even worse about disliking her. “You’re doing good work,” you said softly before standing. “Sorry, I have some things I need to tend to. Thank you again,” you added, hurrying out of the tent to find something else to keep you busy.

Later, you ended up sitting with Catelyn, who seemed even more troubled than usual as of late. “Lady Catelyn, is there something--” She took hold of your arm, “I must speak to you. But not here, somewhere private.” So the two of you ventured into her tent where no one would dare to disturb you. You sat while she paced, not saying a word. “He’s gone mad, Y/N! He loves this woman and you know I want nothing more than for my children to be happy but..” The shock was written all over your face. Sure, you suspected it but you absolutely dreaded being right. “I fear what this will bring. He wishes to marry her. I reminded him that he made an oath to Lord Frey but he insisted that he’d understand and respect his rule, so long as he offered him another deal. But I don’t trust it. He never truly respected Ned, I don’t believe he would respect Robb just because they call him a king now.” She was right. If this went through, this could change everything. This could spell disaster for their cause.

“Do you think he’ll truly go through with this?” you questioned softly. “Yes, he intends to do so as soon as possible and tell him only after the fact. I believe he plans to offer my brother in his place but I just...” You can see that her thoughts are racing. “I guess all we can do is hope that Lord Frey will accept his offer, then. We both know just how stubborn Robb is. If he loves this woman...” You have to swallow the lump in your throat and pray that Catelyn cannot see the devastation written on your face. “Then I hope she is a good queen and that she is worth all of this.” The older woman sat down next to you, letting out a defeated sigh. “I suppose so.”

The next thing you knew, it was revealed that Robb has made a queen of a Volantian woman named Talisa. In his place, Edmure Tully would marry a daughter of Lord Frey’s. He was a lord of a great house, yes, but he was no king. Walder had agreed to the new deal but Catelyn still felt uneasy and confided in you with her feelings.

That night, though, you buried yourself in the furs and used them to muffle your cries. You always knew that he’d marry some beautiful lady one day but it broke your heart nonetheless. When you cried the very last of your tears, you rolled over to reveal red, puffy eyes, feeling totally exhausted. The encampment was making another move tomorrow, and a risky one at that, so you quickly went to sleep. It was important to stay on alert. You weren’t really supposed to be involved in any conflict with your injuries but when did you let anything stop you?

Another memory replayed itself in your dream that night. It wasn’t long after your fourteenth name day. “I can see it, you know,” Jon spoke up from behind you and you jumped. Turning quickly, your brow furrowed. “And just what are you talking about?” you questioned. “I’ve always been able to read you like a book,” he chuckled, walking up to stand beside you. “Are you going to tell me what you’re on about, Snow?” you sighed. His voice suddenly became more serious, “You love him.” He looked out at Robb training in the courtyard just as you had been. Your face felt hot-- even more so than usual-- and your face went red.

“Wh--What are you talking about?!” The stutter certainly didn’t help your case. “I’ve known it for years. And maybe you’ve fooled them but you can’t fool me,” his tone was lighthearted again. “He could love you, too.” You scoffed, there was not a chance. Robb Stark loving a plain and honestly unappealing no name girl? Wasn’t that a laugh. “Have you gone mad?” You tore your eyes away from the courtyard to face him. “I’m serious. The way you look at him, that’s how he used to look at you when we were younger.” There is no way that was true. Even if it was, it didn’t matter. “Shut up,” you huffed, shoving him lightly.

Early that morning, just as the sun was peaking out from behind the mountains, you rode next to Catelyn as the northern forces advanced. Half-listening to her, your eyes never left Robb as you watched him ride alongside his queen. They radiated happiness and it made your heart ache. It would make sense to just be happy that he was so happy but you couldn’t force it. All you wanted was to pour your heart out and hope that it would change things. “Y/N?” Then Catelyn snapped you out of your thoughts. “Oh! My apologies, I’m just.. tired,” you said while laughing nervously. “I understand.” The older woman offered you a kind smile, giving you some relief. You had to remind yourself that without her kindness, you would’ve been slain in the arms of your mother and that making yourself heart sick over a man who was now called king was foolish.

Once everyone was settled in, you somehow convinced yourself to go and find Robb. You caught him just before he retired to his tent. “Your Grace,” you said, playfully curtseying. He rolled his eyes and you honestly couldn’t tell if it was a joke or if he was genuinely bothered. “I just wanted to let you know I’m happy for you. Your queen.. she’s beautiful and kind.. and much better than a Frey girl, I suppose,” you chuckled. “She is, isn’t she?” There was this look of wonder in his eyes. He really loved her. And you really loved him. How tragic. You can tell he wanted to return to her but you couldn’t let him go just yet. “So what is going to happen with that, then? I imagine Lord Frey isn’t very happy.” It felt like it was the most you’ve spoken in ages. “We sent a raven as soon as everything was official explaining everything. I proposed my uncle Edmure stand in my place. We were nervous but he sent one back saying he agreed. That’s where we’re headed, didn’t you know? We should reach the twins in a week, I’d expect. Less if we pick up the pace.” It was surprising, learning that Walder Frey had actually agreed to give up the betrothal to a king and settled for someone of, frankly, much lower status. “No, uh, I didn’t,” you replied. “Well find your best dress for the wedding,” he said with a grin that made you melt. “Sleep well,” he added, brushing softly past you and into his quarters.

All the news still had your head spinning and the racing thoughts kept you awake for most of the night. You hardly got any sleep before you were forced to keep moving. That day you couldn’t help but to notice the happy couple being extra smiley. It made you wonder what that was all about, but you couldn’t let this consume your thoughts. It was always possible that Lannister forces could stage a surprise attack, much like they had on them. There were much bigger things to worry about.

Just before the week was up, you all managed to arrive at your destination. The northern forces set up camp outside of the Frey stronghold. Just as Robb had said, you were searching your trunk for your best dress and head wrap. You’d forgotten that you had thrown in one of the ones that Sansa had sewn for you: a grey color with white detailing-- Stark colors. It made your eyes tear up, wondering where she was and how she was now. You would wear it tomorrow, you’d decide, knowing that she would like that. It’d go fine with a plain, light dress that was navy blue in color.

Finally, the occasion was here. You sat there, next to Catelyn, watching the ceremony. Everyone in the northern army seemed shocked to find that the Frey girl was actually quite beautiful but no one more than Edmure himself. His nervous expression quickly transitioned into a smile, causing you to smirk to yourself. She was still a Frey, though, so it’s not like everything was suddenly all better. But everything went to plan, a cheerful feast starting up just after. The hall was bustling with conversation and music but there was still just that bit of tension in the air. You just couldn’t shake the slightly uneasy feeling in your stomach.

The happy couple were rushed off to the “bedding ceremony,” something you found ridiculous, though not surprising that this family seemed so excited for it. Catelyn placed her hand on yours as if she somehow knew that you wanted nothing more than to stand up and leave. You looked up and met her eyes, head tilting with confusion. “I don’t like that look on his face,” she whispered to you, looking directly as Walder. “I think that’s just what he looks like, my lady,” you replied with a chuckle. She sighed as she looked back at you, “I suppose.”

It was then that he spoke up and the both of you quickly turned your attention to the old man. When you looked closer, you didn’t feel very good about the look on his face either. It was then that you noticed the change in the music to something that sounded quite odd for an occasion like this. He addressed Robb and his queen, saying that he hadn’t given a gift as a congratulations for their marriage. Furrowing your brow, you looked to Catelyn who had lifted the sleeve of Lord Bolton, who was seated next to her, revealing chainmail beneath. Something was terribly wrong and things escalated when she stood and slapped him, the sound nearly echoing throughout the room. Rising to your feet, you looked around and noticed that the doors to the hall had been shut and that’s when all hell broke loose.

It started with a Frey boy relentlessly stabbing the queen in her torso. You sucked in a breath with pure shock, then a crossbow bolt ended up in Robb’s shoulder and you shrieked, as did Catelyn. Startled by the noise, you looked back at her then back to him. Everything was moving so fast, it felt impossible to even move. Another bolt was shot into his shoulder, just missing his neck. Finally, you managed to step back from the table and look around. This was a slaughter. They had rounded everyone up, made sure they were vulnerable and killed every Northman they saw. But that’s when you spotted Lord Bolton take out a dagger and while you expected he would march to the head table to defend his king, you saw him clearly ready himself to attack him instead.

There was only seconds to act and even in your panicked state, you remembered the dagger you kept strapped to your leg. Weapons obviously weren’t welcome at a wedding but putting it on had become such a routine, you didn’t even think of it and thank the Gods you didn’t. Hurriedly grabbing it out from under your dress, you took off running. It was all a blur as your legs carried you along without any thinking involved. When you finally brought yourself back into the moment, your dagger was buried in Roose Bolton’s chest.

You gasped as you stared into his wide eyes, then quickly pulled back only to bump into something. Turning quickly, you were met with the sight of a badly injured but very much alive Robb Stark. Y/N had saved the King in the North-- a no name peasant had saved a king. The loud cry of Catelyn pulled your attention away only for you to see that a Frey held a knife to her neck from behind. “Please, Y/N! GO!” she yelled just before the man finished the deed. Without a second thought, you looped your arm around Robb’s and began running. He seemed to move only out of reflex and you briefly turned your gaze to him. “What are you doing?! We need to move!” you screamed over all the noise but he said nothing, not even looking into your eyes. There was no time to argue, though, so you conjured up every bit of strength in your body and made your way to the door, busting it open but not without getting an arrow through your shoulder-- a lucky shot. The adrenaline made it nearly impossible to feel, though. Of course, there was more men and more chaos outside but you somehow managed to fight your way through. All the bloodshed and craziness was a good distraction-- it seemed that no one really noticed that the Young Wolf had escaped.

It was a miracle. Despite the ongoing massacre, you somehow managed to free Robb’s direwolf and get the two of you up onto a horse to ride away from the insanity. You rode until all of you were exhausted, going deep into the nearest wood and collapsed against a tree. It seemed to be not long before noon the next day. He still never said a word and Grey Wind whimpered as he nudged at him. His eyes were completely empty, it was almost as if he had been killed. But your number one focus was tending to his injuries. Speaking of which, you had left the arrows lodged into him, not wanting to rip them out and cause more bleeding when you had no time to patch it up.

“Are you ready? This is going to hurt..” you said as you gripped the first bolt. His eyes met yours but still he said nothing. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it quickly as to not prolong the pain. He grunted but never said a word. Wait, you didn’t have any kind of plan. This is why you were a shit medic. Panicking, you pulled at the bottom of your dress and ripped away a piece of the cloth, wrapping it around the injury. Moving onto the next time, this time prepared with the cloth. Still, he didn’t say a single word. “Robb?” you whispered, getting close to try to get some kind of response. There was nothing, though. He was broken, seemingly beyond repair. Sighing, you leaned back against the tree and did the same to your own wound-- receiving no support from him-- before passing out from exhaustion.

When you awoke, it seemed to be the middle of the night. Grey Wind laid at your feet but woke up as soon as you stirred. He immediately growled, though calmed once he realized it was just you. Looking over, there laid the defeated king. It killed you to see him this way, feeling the defeat as well. But it was important to keep moving, it was the only hope of survival, so you shook him until he finally woke. “We need to go. If I’m correct, we keep heading this way and we should be able to reach Seagard.” Robb seemed to look right through you. The frustration was beginning to boil over. “I won’t just watch you lay down and die. Now let’s go.” Still nothing as you pulled him up onto the horse, calling for Grey Wind to follow.

It continued like this for the next few days. He never said a word. You rode to the point of exhaustion and survived off nothing but water and whatever you could find that was edible. It wasn’t possible to find an inn to stay in or a shop to buy from. You didn’t know who could and couldn’t be trusted-- even seeking refuge at Seagard was a risk, maybe they had chosen to betray him as well. Hope was beginning to dwindle, as was your strength, when you finally spotted a castle in the distance. You had found it. It was a shot in the dark but you made it. You chuckled, though tears spilled down your cheeks when you saw it. Gods, please let them remain loyal. After a deep breath, you rode up to the gates where men barked out orders for you to identify yourself.

“I am Y/N and I have with me the King in the North!” There was a lot out of shouting followed by the gates opening and you took the opportunity to ride in, Grey Wind following close behind. The both of you were quickly surrounded. “My king,” they declared in unison, each one falling onto one knee. Releasing the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding, you broke into a weak smile. All of this wasn’t for nothing. You had made it.

The Mallisters saw to it that you two were properly cared for. Each of you was given a bath, fresh clothes, a meal and a warm bed. Even after everything, you found yourself unable to sleep that night. It was late and the castle was quiet as you snuck down the hall and into Robb’s room after knocking and not hearing any protest.

“Can you speak to me already?” Your tone was harsh, finally fed up with the silent treatment especially considering that he’d managed to work up the strength to speak to everyone else. He turned around slowly to look at you, “What do you want?” His voice was raspy and he sounded as tired as he looked. “I want you to say something! We made it somewhere safe because of me! I fought our way through everything to get here and you’ve barely even looked at me!” Frustrated tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you want a thank you?” The anger in his tone never wavered as he came closer to you. “Did you ever stop to think why I never said anything? I didn’t care to make it out of there, Y/N! My wife is dead, my child is dead.” A child? You had no idea. “And my mother. What else do I have?!” His gradual raise in tone caused you to jump back, head tilted with confusion as the tears continued to flow. “You have people who are counting on you. What happened was... terrible but these people named you their king and you promised their freedom. You promised to bring your sisters home! All of that is hopeless without you. I did what I did for your mother!” And because I love you. “So you can’t just lay down and die. I won’t let you. You have me, Robb.” He seemed surprised to see you fight back so hard. There was a long silence. “Get out,” he practically growled. “Robb--” you went to protest. “I said get out,” he raised his volume slightly. Giving him one last look, you turned and walked out.

Doing your best to remain quiet as the continuous stream of tears spilled down your cheeks, you hurried to your room. This was it. The final straw. You did everything you possibly could, brought him somewhere safe. Now it was up to him now to do what was right. It was becoming quite clear what your next move should be.

CUT TO THIRD PERSON.

Sleep continued to evade him as the sky began to light up. Robb felt sick, his mind replaying all that had happened and racing with all the ways he should’ve been able to stop it. Then he felt an intense guilt. She saved him. She fought like a true warrior to save him. All the times she could’ve given up along the way, she didn’t. All of this effort and he repaid her by screaming in her face telling her that he didn’t want any of it. His grief was no excuse to treat a woman who had been there for him his whole life like that. A woman who threw her own safety to the wayside just to save him. He knew that he needed to apologize and that it couldn’t wait.

He made his way down the hall, thinking of what he could possibly say to make things better. “I’m sorry” would be first, obviously, but that certainly wasn’t enough. After hearing no protest and assuming she must’ve been asleep or in the same position he had been, he pushed the door open. As his eyes scanned the room, there was no sign of her. Her trunk still sat at the foot of the bed but she was no where to be found. Confused, he walked to a desk in the corner of the room where a candle was still burning. There sat a letter, addressed to him with ink that was still wet.

Robb,

First, I must tell you why I need to leave. I should have long before this and I suspect you will agree. My name, my true name, is Visenya II Targaryen and I am the youngest child of the Mad King.

Those first lines made him fall down into the chair, feeling weak from the shock.

...

Continued.

#game of thrones imagine #robb stark imagine #robb stark x reader #catelyn stark imagine #targaryen!reader

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greekowl87 · 5 years

Note

Combo C7+C39+46 in so happy you are doing this! Thank you 💞💞💞

“C7+C39+46 Move as little as possible. / Just keep the pressure on it. / I was a joke, baby. I swear.

A/N: Anon, this probably isn’t what you had in mind with this combination of prompts but I do you enjoy what was born. I love the episode ‘Tithonus’ and the immortal Scully trope. I have played with this idea but I guess I rehashed it for this prompt. Sorry. Sort of. Not really. I love the immortal Scully trope to bits. And I hope you enjoy the result with this fic. Enjoy reading. No beta.

Tagging @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm

It took Scully a moment to catch her breath as she laid on the cold concrete floor staring up at the worn brick walls. She felt something warm, wet, and cold across her chest and staining her clothes. What had happened?

Everything had happened so fast.

They rushed into an alley chasing the supposed ghost only to be ambushed by three men. They had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damn their carelessness. Gunfire had rung out through the warehouse. Who was firing at them? The force of bullets knocked the breath out of her and she fell. Neither Mulder nor Scully made a habit of wearing bulletproof vests under their suits unless the situation required it. She thought this was no different. They had just been checking out a lead. But then the bullets and gunfire rang out.

Scully had felt like she had been punched repeatedly in the chest with multiple punches but it hurt so much more. She remembered briefly the agonizing pain of being shot in the abdomen with Ritter’s bullet. When she regained consciousness, what had probably been a moment, blood stained her white blouse. Something was wrong, so very wrong. Her medical mind realized that with the severity of what likely happened, what should have happened.

She should be dead. Very dead.

Her hand searched her chest automatically, feeling the hot, sticky blood before she spotted Mulder on the ground gasping for breath. Everything else was forgotten. A moment of deja vu overtook her. His hand was reaching out of her desperately. The bank. That robber. Pressing her hands against Mulder’s chest to keep him alive.

The pain she felt was momentary and she pushed herself up sluggishly. Her chest ached as she crawled to him. She should be dead, her rational mind screamed. But she was fine, right? She was moving and breathing, albeit it painfully, but she was moving. Scully took Mulder’s hand as he struggled to breathe. With a doctor’s eye, she noted multiple gunshot wounds peppered across his chest.

“No, no, no,” she whispered. She ripped off her own jacket and pressed it against his chest. “Mulder, I’m here. I’m here, you hear me?”

“Scully.” He winced. “I was wrong, huh?”

She cupped his face and whispered, “Move as little as possible. Keep your eyes focused on me.”

“You’re shot too…” he whispered. He raised a shaking hand and tried to check her. She pushed away his hand and it fell limply to his side. “Scully?”

“No. I’m okay,” she answered. She continued to push away his wandering hands and tried to check his wounds. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

She ripped open her shirt and saw a large, gaping wound near his heart. She was so focused on Mulder that it escaped her attention when he peeled back her blouse slightly. “You were shot. Scully, you were shot. I see the blood. But you seem okay?”

“ I am okay. I’m fine, Mulder..” It wasn’t a lie. She was breathing was becoming easier and she felt better. There was just a dull ache in her chest. She forced a comforting smile. “I was a joke, baby. I swear. I promise I am fine. Move as little as possible.”

“You’re terrible. Not a joke.” He coughed. Blood dribbled from the corner of his lip. “Scully, you are hurt.”

“Mulder, let me take care of you!” She snapped.

“Just keep pressure on it. Isn’t that right?” He coughed and blood trickled down his lip. She heard sirens in the distance. The back up they had called for. His eyes were glazed and tried to focus on her face. “Scully, I don’t…”

“What?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not letting you die, Mulder.”

He closed his eyes. “I feel cold.”

Before Scully could answer she felt Mulder shiver and curl into her. Then she felt it again. The same sensation she had felt in Brooklyn New York when she witnessed Fellig die and she survived. “You aren't.”

“You know,” he whispered. “I suspected, Scully and I knew deep down.”

“Not now, Mulder.”

“There was no way you should’ve survived that.”

Scully was not listening. She could feel Mulder’s heartbeat slow beneath her fingertips. What a feeling of agony it was to start your partner’s heart in the Arctic to only feel his life die away in some warehouse in Washington? The sensation increased and it was almost smothering in the back of her mind and she could feel it all around her. Scully couldn’t breathe. She remembered Fellig’s ramblings about trying to capture death on film, to see it. Maybe it wasn’t about seeing it and looking it in the eye. Maybe it was something else.

“Mulder,” she whispered desperately, “I love you. I won’t lose you.”

“You can’t fight death, Scully.”

I did, she thought impulsively, and so will you. “Close your eyes, Mulder.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Scully,” he admonished. Even near death, he was a stubborn bastard. His eyes rolled back into his head. “I hardly think this is the time.”

She bent forward and kissed him. She could taste the coppery tang of his blood against their lips. For a moment, both of the breathes caught between each other, the suffocating feeling burst, and his breath hitched. This is it, Scully thought, this is the end.

But miraculously, he continued to breathe. His breath was stronger and more labored. She hastily reached for his pulse. It thundered with renewed vigor. Before she realized it, emergency support services descended upon them and loaded them both up to the nearest trauma center.

A week later, Scully held a bouquet of sunflowers in her arms as she stared nervously at the hospital room door handle. She managed to convince (and ward off any unwanted medical attention) that the blood on her was that of her partner's. Her own gruesome bullet wounds faded to annoying scratches within days. But to her horror, just like Fellig, they remained scars and reminders of her new reality. Her immortality. It all confirmed the truth she tried to will away. She winced at the thought and decided to not bring it up when she Mulder. At least the sunflowers provided an adequate distraction.

After trying to summon a moment of courage, she opened the door to find her partner uselessly flipping through the channels.

“They ain’t got shit here, Scully. They had a marathon of Highlander but I turned the channel.”

“You aren’t subtle at all,” she replied warily.

“I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“I needed time,” she answered honestly. She sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed his hand. “To process everything.”

“I see.” Mulder lowered the volume and sat up in the hospital bed easily. He winced a little but that was to be expected. “The doctors are confounded. There was a bullet that pierced my heart, Scully and yet here I am. And then there is the matter of recovery. The docs said they’ve never seen anything like it. I have. It’s like yours was, isn’t it?”

She placed the sunflowers aside uselessly, unsure how to answer. “I’ve reviewed your charts myself.” After a moment of hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse slightly and guided Mulder’s hand to the multiple puckered scars. “Do you feel those scars? I can’t explain it, Mulder. We both should be dead but we’re okay. We’re both okay.”

He sighed and glanced at the sunflowers. “You saw Death, didn’t you? Whatever happened to you…”

“I felt Death,” she corrected. “And yes. I think so. I don’t know. I wanted to deny it. But I can’t deny this, Mulder. Whatever happened…” She gestured between the two of them. “I can't deny it.” Months of anxiety poured out as she bit her lip and eyes watered. Mulder grabbed both of her hands. The words bleed out like a broken confession. “I’m a monster, a freak.” She tapped the back of her neck. “This, barren womb, and now this.” She gestured to her chest. “What a fucked-up world huh?”

“No,” he urged. He forced her to look at him. “Never. I don’t know what it is. I can’t explain it either, Scully...not yet at least, but you aren’t alone. We’re in this together. You saved me. Remember, I wouldn’t face the darkness without anyone else but you.”

“How, Mulder?” she yelled. “How do you know we’re going to be okay?”

It was quick and he grunted slightly with discomfort but the kiss silenced her. It was everything she had thought of and more. The spark of electricity, the heat of life, and the promise of another day. “Because of what you said,” he whispered. “I may have been dying but I heard every word, Scully.”

“What was that?”

She licked her lips in memory. Mulder chuckled slightly. “I love you too. The strange thing about being on the brink of death does to you. Scully, I don’t know the future. I can’t explain what happened to me or to you but I have a feeling and I think we both know the truth.” He tilted his head as she lowered her eyes, refusing to look at him. “Would it really be such a bad thing, you and me, stuck side by side forever?”

“I don’t know if I want to live forever,” she whispered.

“What about with me? Would that really be so bad?”

“Mulder, I can’t discuss this right now. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around the fact that I was shot in the chest, I was dying, and yet, I was up, breathing, talking, and walking by the time the EMTs got to us. I had to lie about the holes in my blouse. I am surprised they even bought it.”

“Then don’t. How about living just for the present? You and me, huh?”

“I could bear the thought, the pain of losing you,” she whispered. “I was selfish.”

“You saved me, Scully.”

“I love you,” she continued.

“And me too.” Her eyes shot up and he gave her a small smile. “Don’t look so surprised. Look, well figure this out. Don’t we always, Scully?” He leaned back into his hospital bed and guided her with him. She remembered how he used to do this with her during her cancer treatments. Scully would always find some sort of peace, strength, and hope in moments like this with them. “Easy,” he hissed as her head rested against a tender part of his chest. “Still healing.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine. Move as little as possible and we are comfortable.”

This was very unlike her to show weakness but for the moment, she let herself show it. Mulder sighed trying to get comfortable trying to this new thing between them. “I don’t know what happened with us,” Scully told him.

“I think we do but what matters, I think, Scully is what you said. We live for the present and we take day by day.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Besides, I’m rather excited about the future.”

“Why is that?”

“I get to kiss you a lot more now.”

Scully laughed and for the moment, their unknown future seemed a little brighter as he stole another kiss to silence her laughter.

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #msr #msr fic #immortal scully trope #mulder and scully #prompt #asked and answered

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h-hart · 4 years

Text

The way to the royal “haven”

practice challenge ((I’ve combined all the prompts here haha))

“Okay, everyone. I’m off now!” I cry as I grab my bag from the counter.

“Wait, what? Lunch’s ready!” Mom says, before sticking her head out of the window and yelling “BOYS LUNCH!”

“I told you I’m going to a concert today.” I say as I watch my dad and brother walk into the house with their hands full of soil from farming.

“Well, when you said concert, I wasn’t expecting you to leave before lunch!” Mom replies, shooing me out of my way as she pushes her son and husband to wash their hands. “You can’t survive the day without lunch! Especially if you’re gonna scream your lungs out at the songs.”

“I will eat along the way.” I tell her. She puts the pot down on the table and turns around to look at me.

“Haven Hart. I will not have this behavior of yours. Yes, I know girls go crazy over a singer and will try to get there as early as possible to catch a glimpse of him or something. But you will not do that! Finish your lunch first.”

“But Mom! I’m 20 years old! I’m not a baby anymore!” I argue, glancing at the clock in annoyance. I’m gonna be late. My brother must have noticed my annoyance and urgency and he gives me a sympathetic look.

“What about,” Hardin begins as he helps Mom with setting the table. “You pack this delicious pasta into a paper box and let Haven take it to the concert so she can fangirl while she eats?”

I nod hurriedly in agreement and give my mom puppy eyes. She sighs.

“Fine, but since you made the suggestion, you’re packing her lunch.” She states as she slaps a paper box into his hands. He rolls his eyes and stuff some of the pasta into the box lamely. After doing so, he hands me the lunchbox and I give him a grateful smile. He rolls his eyes again, mouths you owe me and I give my parents a kiss on the cheek and run off.

Now, I’ve never been one to lie to my parents, so I didn’t. It’s just that when I said I’m going to a concert, it wasn’t exactly the big expensive pop concerts they imagined. It’s a formal concert at the Hudson Royal Concert Hall, where Angelo Hyson will be singing a collection of songs from different musicals for the entertainment of a rich couple’s anniversary. And I most certainly did not get invited to the party, I was there for Angelo.

Angelo.

I sigh happily as I whisper his name. Angelo has the most angelic voice. While I have never been a big fan of musicals and opera and all that, the moment I heard him sing Music of the Night, I fell. Hard. I was there with Hardin, delivering some of the produce to the kitchen and Angelo was rehearsing. And being the lover of dance I am, my body started swaying and moving accordingly. He caught me from across the room and he came to talk to me and bang. That was it. We fell in love.

After a 30-minute walk, I finally made it to the hall. I look around to see Angelo busy talking to some guy in a suit, so I decide that we can talk later.

Here’s another thing I didn’t tell my parents. I was also here to perform, to be Angelo’s dancer.

Why didn’t I tell them? Simple. I’m supposedly a farmer, a four. But Angelo and being a dancer, is a five.

Which is why I have to put on a mask while performing.

But I don’t care, because for the next hour or so. I would be surrounded by love - dancing and Angelo.

----

“Hey.” A voice whispers into my ear as I pack my bags after the performance. I smile at the voice and turn around to place my arms on his. He returns the smile and kisses me gently. “How’s my favorite dancer in the world?” I only smile in response and touch my lips against his again.

“I almost couldn’t get here in time!” I laugh as I fill him in with what happened. When I finish, I look at Angelo to see him frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I ask softly, hating to see him sad.

“Have you read the news?” He asks with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It came out just now and I overheard some of the people talking about it. The prince just broke up with Evie.”

“Wait, what?” I reply with widened eyes. “But why?”

He shrugs in response.

“Well, okay. But you’re sad because the prince broke up with Evie?” I push, not understanding the whole situation.

“No.” He sighs as he pulls me into his arms. “It’s just that their sudden break up reminded me of how precious and lucky it is to be able to be with the person you’re in love with.”

I smile at his words and snuggle into him happily.

“Which is why I want to know if you’re truly truly happy with me.” He says after a slight hesitation. I widen my eyes and push away from him to look at him.

“Are you crazy?” I ask him. “I love you! I would do anything as long as it means I get to be with you.”

“But I’m a five. I can’t give you the life you’re having.” He reasons. I roll my eyes, having heard him say this a thousand times.

“We had this conversation last month! I thought I reassured you I don’t mind that.”

“Yes, but hearing you talk about hiding us from your parents…” He trails off with a frown on his cute and hot face. I place my hands on his face and stare into his eyes, searching for, I don’t know, something. But all I can see is love and pain. Pain at the thought of me having to be a five and not being able to tell my parents about us.

“Okay, well if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll tell them.” I declare with a courage I never knew I had. But love gives you courage. “No, let’s tell them. Together. If we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together, we might as well do this together.”

“W-” He begins before he is interrupt by a kiss from his angel, me.

“Nope. you’re not gonna say another word on this. They are my parents. I call the shots.” I announce, getting up to grab my bag.

“N- now?”

“Yes, now. I’ve never been more sure of anything. Let’s go.”

----

And that’s how I made the second worst decision I’ve ever made in my entire life.

To say my parents disliked Angelo and I would be an understatement. My mother screamed and my dad almost beat Angelo up. When Angelo left to make it home before the curfew, the screaming did not die down. And that whole night my mom and I screamed at each other, my dad kicked the soil and my brother tried to stop him, only to get a yelling from my mother about how Hardin let “your sister go into a dark path, making the worst decision of her life.” I was thankful we own a farm and live in the middle of it, or else the neighbors would definitely think I murdered someone.

And so the night went into morning, with my mom yelling about how I’m being stubborn and stupid and not giving other boys a chance. And my dad banning the two of us from making any more deliveries, which Hardin managed to slip out of as he argued that he would never have to marry down. He also argued that we needed the money as our farm wasn’t doing too good and my parents didn’t have the time and energy to do the delivering.

Sometimes I wish I was a boy instead.

Oh and that early morning, a sleep-deprived me made the worst decision in my entire life. To show my mom that I really love Angelo, I made a snarky comment about how even if the Prince were to show up at our doorstep to ask for my hand in marriage, I would still choose Angelo. And my mom told me to prove it.

And then because I’m stubborn and thought I would never be that unlucky to get chosen, I applied for The Selection.

Fuck.

And then I got chosen to represent Hudson.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

====

The rest became some sort of a blur to me. Thus, I shall be recapping the events that happened afterwards in pictures and short sentences. This is all still surreal to me.

The send-off:

It was a bit awkward, but hey, I played my part correctly and smoothly so there’s that. The Hart siblings took one last photo before I headed to the Selection.

Plane ride:

I put on a face mask right as I left Hudson, so I didn’t have to explain my weirdness.

I’m gonna miss my family so much. I changed into a nice pantsuit for the plane ride as I wanted to feel more comfortable. I was the last to arrive and was introduced to Brooke, Clara and Tavi. It was really hard to not talk to all those pretty girls, but I couldn’t. I told them I was sick and they became instantly concerned, with Clara cutely offering me some medicine. I declined politely.

I also used my phone to type out the things I want to say so I didn’t have to say them out loud in a weird voice. I missed my real voice. We chatted a bit, with me awkwardly writing things on my phone.

And did I mention they offered champagne on the plane???? Any other time, I would’ve grabbed one. Or two. Or more.

As the plane took off, Tavi, who was next to me, announced she was gonna listen to some music.

“Haven, would you like to join?” She asked me. I smiled and nodded.

“I do have a very mixed taste in music so you’re in for a treat.” She told me as she offered one of her earphones.

And then before I could stop myself. I winked. What. the. Hell. was. I. Doing.

Luckily no one seemed to notice.

Makeover:

That was the scariest and weirdest experience in my entire life. I have never had a makeover in my entire life. So, I simply dismissed them all and showed them pictures of Haven Hart, the prettiest farmer in Hudson, to prove to them that I can do the makeover to myself. And luckily, I got out of the interview, by once again telling them I’ve simply lost my voice.

But lemme just tell you, there were so many pretty and hot girls in the women's room. And wow, this must be a real heaven for the prince. Talking about a rebound, eh? Gotta take some points from him.

And finally, everything is over and I’m finally in the safety of my own room. I get out of the ridiculous dress, heels and makeup, before taking a long nice needed bath.

And then I take out my phone to call the only person in the world that I want to talk to right now.

h.hart

Oh, how I long to finally be able to be myself.

-----------

((A mega shoutout to Pia, Simone and Kat for the lovely rp!! @brookelynnsanders @tavi-hayes @clara-choii THANKS!!))

#challenge #practice challenge #h.hart

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years

Text

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

Chapter 21

I was laying on the ground, helpless, with multiple stab wounds, several broken ribs, herniated disks in my lower back and a crushed foot. How I survived for as long as I did, I do not know. But I do know that my life was saved that day thanks to a family of humans.

They were a family of simple farmers who moonlighted as pallbearers for those who had fallen in battle. It was a father and son who first saw me. When they got to my unconscious body, they had assumed I had joined the rest in the Mists as well.

I could just barely make out the voice when the father, Eric, began poking and prodding me.

"Holy moley, dad. That's a big charr. Damn beast must'a put up a fight."

To their misfortune, my breath was still hot. "Wait a minute, son. That thing is still drawin' breath."

The father and son took me into their barn and made a makeshift bed for me to lie in. At the time I was still too out of it to even know where I was. I regained consciousness within a few days. When I did, let's just say my first interactions with them were less than hospitable.

"Hey, dad. Yuh think we can be sure those bonds are tight enough? I mean that thing looks awfully big and strong."

"Son. Our farm is on the verge of being foreclosed on. The Ebonguard will pay us a pretty penny for handing it over to them alive, especially considering its a legion officer."

"How can ya be so sure, dad?"

"Lookit the armor. Only charr officers wear that type. His intact hide will be worth a fair amount of gold."

I was finally coming around.

"Wh... where am I?"

"Humans? Bah! What's happening? Garr! My arms! Unbind me now!"

Heh. I am certain my bestial groans were more than enough to wet both their pants.

"Y... you talk?"

"Come closer and I'll tell you what I really want to say, human."

"Don't get close to him, son. He'll likely bite your face off."

I actually planned on going for the boy's skinny throat, but decided against it. The pain of a severely damaged foot persuaded me otherwise.

"We are only trying to help you, charr. If you behave nicely, we will provide your basic needs." The boy's father tried to reassure me.

"Nice is something my people aren't very good at. But killing mice like you is an entirely different matter altogether. Gah!"

My wounds were more extensive than I realized. Thus, there was little I could do but rely on their mercy even if their intentions were far from altruistic.

It was on the following day that I first saw her. She was the father's only daughter who looked to be no more than nineteen years old. Yes. I've studied humans long enough to pretty accurately tell how old they are.

Her features were delicate for a farmer's daughter. Her long, auburn hair hung past her thin waistline and her eyes were the softest blue I've ever seen in a human. In spite of her youth, she did have a mate at one time - a 'husband' humans like to call them - who had apparently been killed in a recent battle.

For the first week, she did not speak to me. However, she was responsible for changing my bedding and leaving meals for me to eat. One particular morning, I was stubbornly refusing to consume much of anything.

She stepped over me trying to coax me into nibbling on some puréed meat.

You've gotta eat something. It's been four days and you haven't touched anything we have given you." Her voiced sounded eerily soothing to me.

"Perhaps I am trying to starve myself to death. Get that crap away from me you little squeeker!" "Look. Keeping you alive is in our family's best financial interest. If you wish to be a pill and not help pay off our mortgage then I'll just have to find another way of getting you fed."

That girl poked me in a region that made even a hardened veteran like myself cringe with embarrassment. She reminded me that what went out could also go in.

"You wouldn't dare, human. Would you?"

"The hoses from the milking machine can easily be repurposed. Get my drift, furball?"

Against my pride, I acquiesced to her demands. Even though the food tasted like crap it did keep me nourished.

A month later, I was still laid up in the barn. Yet she was always there tending to my wounds and making sure my bedding was comfortable. It was during that time when she and I began conversing on more friendly terms. She told me of her husband's death as well as the pain of the loss she felt. I told her about our cubs and the two we had lost.

"So your people do not have marriages?"

"Not in the manner you humans do. Our people can commit to monogamous lifelong relationships, but such things are very uncommon."

"Do you love your mate?'

That was one question I could not honestly answer. Not that it would offend you at all, Siri.

"Briefly. But let's drop that subject, shall we?"

The girl knew she had hit a sore spot.

"I'm sorry to offend you, even if you are supposed to be nothing more than a vicious beast. At least that's what I've been taught to think of your people."

"There's more to my people than you can possibly understand, mouse. Bah! You're just a naive cub, anyway. Begone with you! I need some sleep."

In spite of my brusque demeanor, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me as a thinking, feeling creature.

"All this time, you never told me your name. Come to think of it, I never told you mine either. I'm Karla. Karla Longfield, what's yours?"

Reluctantly, I answered. "Crushblow... Centurion Ludrick Crushblow - Blood Legion. There now... satisfied?"

Every three days, she would replace my bindings with fresh gauze. The girl's patience with me was astounding considering how much of a hard time I had given her.

"Gah! That hurts! What are you trying to do to me, human? Torture me for information?"

"Well, if you held still while I debris those wounds, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad."

"You are just finding a legitimate excuse to torture an enemy combatant."

"Don't tempt me, charr. In fact, the next time I hear you complain, I'm going to shave the entire area around your wounds, bald! Got it?"

I growled and snarled at her and even tried to haphazardly lunge bite her, but she didn't seem to take me seriously. In fact, she gave me a hard yank on the tail. Strangely, that wound up hurting more than anything else.

The following week, some of my strength was beginning to return. However, my knee, my back and my right foot never completely healed properly, so I wound up relying on crutches to move around. Through it all, Karla was there helping me to build up the strength in my legs so I could eventually get around on my own without assistance.

Slowly, my condition started to improve. However, my progress was sidelined when I contracted a foul stomach ailment. For the next four days, just about everything I consumed exited though my other end roughly five hours after eating. When Karla found me the next morning, I was practically swimming in my own shit, but too weak to be able to cleanse myself.

"What in Lyssa's name?? My gods, that stench!"

"I'll bet you think this is funny. Just get me a bucket of some damn water, woman, so I can get myself clean."

"You can't do much of anything in your present condition."

She was right. The moment I tried to move, my guts felt like they were on fire. I was at her mercy whether I liked it or not.

Karla doused me with several buckets of cold water then began wiping down my fur with fresh linens. She paid special attention to my open sores making sure that any remaining fecal material had been cleaned out. Once she had cleaned and dried my fur, she began massaging my legs stating that it was to help with the circulation. Yet this time, there was something different in the way she massaged me, something even I felt but couldn't explain at the time.

"Karla. Why do you go out of your way to do all this for me? Tell me the real reason." That strange feeling inside of me began to grow.

"I... I don't know. It's for the money, okay? My family's farm needs the bounty from you in order for us to remain here. I've told you this before."

"I may not know human nuances or expressions that well, but even I know that you aren't telling me the whole truth. Please, tell me."

That was the first time that I can recall ever asking her 'please'.

"My father informed me a couple of days ago that he had contacted the Ebonguard. Instead of taking you prisoner outright, they decided to do a prisoner exchange with some legionnaires. Ten of our soldiers will be freed in exchange for you. This is scheduled to happen in the next three days. That is my other secret... satisfied now?"

I nodded but wasn't satisfied. She was still holding something back.

The following day was when it happened. She came into the barn with the intent of redressing my wounds and giving me my weekly cleansing. But when she entered, something about her scent smelled different. It smelt intoxicating and even erotic. I couldn't help but stare at her as the shafts of sunlight caused her long dress to turn translucent.

When I saw her small, curved form beneath those burlap garments, my body became aroused. As embarrassed I was to admit it at the time, I wanted to mate with that human.

"Okay, big fella. Time for a bath."

"No!" I shirked at the request fearing she would see my embarrassment.

I don't take no for an answer you stubborn furball! Let me get you out of those rags so I can bathe that matted fur of yours."

"Karla... please." She began peeling away my garments then worked her way towards removing my old dressings. The only thing I had left on me was a loincloth. I resisted her motion to have it removed. She, on the other hand, was undeterred.

"I need to clean you up everywhere. It's not like I haven't seen your sheathe before."

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Her gaze locked onto mine. She was - I could not believe the words that were coming to my head - beautiful. I wanted her, greatly.

"Oh. Ludrick."

My embarrassment was out. When she saw it she, at first, began massaging my inner thighs before finally working up the courage to touch that part of me that was the cause of my shame and delight.

"I never knew..." She grabbed hold of me even though it must have been painful in doing so due to my spines.

"Karla! Don't! It's not natural for you and me to do this."

"You and me. Yes. You know it to be true. You want it as much as I do! I want you!"

She pulled off her dress revealing her naked form. I had no time to react before she was upon me. My engorged member slid deeply into her canal as she winced in a crescendo of emotions.

"Ohhh. Gods!"

She moaned in sensuous pleasure and pain all at once. I knew my spines were tearing into her but my will had already given in to the desires of the flesh.

"I don't want to hurt you, Karla. My shaft was not meant for one such as you." I wrestled with the guilt that my anatomy was hurting her. Yet, she seemed to ignore the pain and focus only on the desire.

"I love you, Ludrick! I want to love you, as a woman should. Gaaahh!"

I released my fluid then waited for my member to subside before withdrawing from her. Her region was bloody from either our coupling or her monthly cycle. Which one it was, I could not tell. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

However, I swore that night that I would never hurt her in that manner again. Thus, I filed down my spines so that she would only experience pleasure from me. That is why I could never bear cubs. Once my ability to stimulate female ovulation was blunted, I had effectively become sterile.

Karla and I mated several more times that night and the following day. The only difference was I no longer was burdened with the guilt of my anatomy causing her pain. But in spite of my efforts, the greatest pain of all still remained.

"They are here to take you back, Ludrick. The soldiers will be here in the next ten minutes. I wish you didn't have to..."

"Karla... I know how you feel. I truly wish we could share our moments together longer. But a relationship such as ours would only bring pain and death if anyone were to find out about what we had between us."

She gave me what humans call a kiss on my muzzle. She also tried coaxing me into sticking my tongue into her mouth. I refused to do it as doing so might have caused her more discomfort. But the truth of the matter is, I very much wanted to do such.

"There is something I want you to have, Karla." I took one of my war medals then broke it in two, handing her one half while I kept the other.

"Keep this close to your heart and remember me. I will always wear my half close to mine. I will never forget you, Karla."

The father and son entered then helped me up. As I was heading from the barn and towards my future captors, Karla ran up to me and whispered in a voice so soft that only a charr could possibly hear.

"I will always love you, Ludrick Crushblow."

Those were the last words and the last time I ever saw her.

***

You see, Siri, inter-species love has happened before. I am living proof of that fact.

His former mate looked at him with a stare that could only be described as cathartic.

"The only living proof I see is that I am truly surrounded by a bunch of perverted sickos. Like sire; like cub, I suppose. Why should that not surprise me? And to think I was stupid enough allow you to screw me all those years," Siri said in her characteristic deadpan tone.

"You are the only soul I have ever revealed this to. Do what you will with the information, Siri. The winds of change are blowing and soon they will become a gale that even you must eventually come to terms with."

"The only things I'm coming to terms with is that if any of this gets out, I'm ruined."

"Go ahead and try to kill us, then. I promise you a fight the likes of which would make you wish you had never even been born." Ludrick quietly raged.

"I cannot kill that which is already dead. All of you are dead to me! This conversation never happened. In fact, this whole night never happened. I am done here!"

"Then you will not bring harm to the human, Kaleb?"

Siri scowled at him as she headed towards the door. "Didn't you comprehend me the first time? When I said all, I meant all! That little runt is free to defile herself with that mouse all she wants. I'm done wasting my time with any of you. Goodbye!"

Within moments, Siri Blastfuze bounded out the door and into the night without ever turning to look back. Ludrick felt a sense of relief that he had not felt in twenty years. He knew that Siri would no longer pose a threat to his beloved daughter or Kaleb.

Amalthia. You and Kaleb deserve the chance that Karla and I were never given.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 21 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #guildwars 2 fanfiction #the outliers #ludrick crushblow #cw adult situations

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

Text

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Three | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen | Due to language

Word count: 2,930

Chapter 3/24

Warnings: Very brief language

AN: Y’all are getting this chapter a night early because I have had a supremely shitty week and could use some cheering up. So far, this has been the chapter I was most nervous to write because it’s from Bucky’s POV. I have felt so incredibly unworthy of trying to delve into this character because so many fantastic writers I know and love write him flawlessly. It’s been so intriguing for me to explore what Bucky would be like post-war and I think I’m liking where this is going. This chapter has actually turned into one of my favorites and I’m proud of how it came out. Sidenote: Did y’all REALLY think I was going to write something completely void of Steve Rogers???? If you did, you don’t know me that well 😉

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Mondays usually were accompanied by drowsiness and wistful thoughts of a weekend passed.

Not for Bucky.

For Bucky, Monday meant he could return to a life where he blends in, where he gets to be the one who observes everyone else. Washing windows is not what he wants for the rest of his life, but for now it felt good to be doing something useful, to have tangible results in front of him everyday. Monday morning means having someplace to be, a set schedule for his day, someone counting on him, and quiet stretches of time alone and away from the worried eyes of his family members.

The pitying glances over breakfast were becoming a bit much for him. Bucky loved his family to death, wouldn’t trade them for the world. But for all their ability to give him space to figure his life out, they sure were clueless that he was keenly aware of the way they looked at him, the way they spoke to him. He doesn’t really blame them, he wouldn’t know how to handle himself either. Most days he pastes on a smile, tells them not to worry, he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d actually believe it too.

Unfortunately Monday also meant dealing with the rest of the boneheaded window washing crew. He was constantly reminding himself to go easy on them, they were just kids. But nothing made him more aware of his age and veteran status than being around them. Compared to their carefree countenances, he realized how much he’d been through, how much he’d seen, how much he’d survived. He should be grateful they were able to be total idiots instead of being shipped off to war. But most days he was tempted to share the number of his confirmed kills so they would leave him alone.

Bucky scales down the building, wind tousling his hair as he looks up to count how many floors he’s finished.

That makes this. . . six.

He peers through the window, pretending to be checking the glass. Scanning the office, he doesn’t see you - his disappointment surprising him.

In the week in which he’d been working on the east side of the building he’d seen you every single day. The way you carried yourself was what first caught his eye - you were confident, poised, not demanding attention but not morphing into a wallflower. You cared about your work, always looking intense and focused. And you saw him. Not in the way people usually saw him - as a figure in the window, someone to be ignored and walked past. In the smallest of ways you were kind to him. You waved every single day, always had time to spare him a smile. There was something about you that was calming. Granted, your interactions were minimal and nonverbal. But you didn’t make him nervous. Which was a rare occurrence these days.

Something in him just wasn’t working lately. Every girl he took dancing, he stepped on her toes. Try to share a meal, he couldn’t find anything to chat about. Dating was easier before he left. Or maybe everything had gotten harder since he’d returned home.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it. Bucky knew he’d changed, he just hadn’t realized how much. Steve had echoed the sentiment a few nights ago.

Reluctantly, Bucky had allowed his idiot friend and Peggy to drag him to a bar after dinner - how the times had changed. It wasn’t one of their old haunts from before the war. Neither Bucky nor Steve could handle the cacophony of noise a club filled with energetic people brought. They bumped into several groups of those kinds of people, including a raucous group of slightly inebriated young women. Suddenly they felt old, weary, uneasy in a place where they used to belong. Or at least where Bucky used to belong, Steve always argued.

This place was quiet, refined even. Conversations were at a dull murmur while a band played casually. No one was here to drunkenly drown their sorrows or celebrate being alive wildly. Almost like everyone here knew the patrons just needed a rest.

“You realize you two don’t have to invite me on all your date nights, right?” Bucky huffed as the three settled at a table near the back.

Peggy smiled coyly. “Don’t worry, James. You aren’t welcome for the entire night.” Steve choked on his drink, coughing violently while his ears burned pink. Bucky’s response had been something along the lines of “gross”.

After the usual chit-chat, Steve had waited for Peggy to excuse herself to refresh their drinks before broaching the subject.

“Doing okay, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded, rolling the last sip of his whiskey in its glass.

“You sure?”

Bucky recognized that voice. Eyes flicking back to Steve’s guilty face, his suspicions were confirmed. “Alright, who’s been in your ear this time? Ma? Becca?”

“I’ve got my own eyes and ears.” Steve waited a beat before adding, “But your ma did mention-” Bucky groaned, not hearing the rest of the sentence. “Don’t be like that. They just care about you, Buck.”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he repeated quietly, “I know.”

“You’ve been dragging a lot. Gotta admit you haven’t been yourself.”

Bucky leaned back, leveling Steve with a hard look. “To tell you the truth, Steve? I don’t know who I am. Nothing that mattered to me before means anything anymore. Once I got to Europe. . . I stopped making plans. Didn’t seem to be much use in dreaming about things that I’d never come home to. But then you, being the punk you are, saved my ass countless times - even caught me falling off a damn train - and somehow I’m back in New York. I didn’t plan on having a 29th birthday or hugging my family again.” He idly scratched at an itchy patch of his beard. “Yet here we are.”

“We’re all lucky to be alive, Buck.”

“But for what?” Silence hung thick in the air at Bucky’s question.

“You know. . .” Steve started, then paused. “I do know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. You’re literally a god-damn hero. There are comic books written about you, movies carrying your name, and you have job security for the rest of your life. You had dinner at the White House on your birthday and bagged a kickass partner in crime. If that’s not purpose, what is?”

Steve had the nerve to look embarrassed. “It may be purposeful. . . but it’s not normal. You know better than anyone else that all I wanted was to do my part in the fight. To say I got more than I bargained for is an understatement.” Bucky could only respond with a snort. “But none of us thought I’d survive the scarlet fever, the arrhythmia, or the anaemia. I was lucky to make it as long as I did. The chances of me surviving the serum injection were laughably low.”

Memories of many days spent at Steve’s bedside float over the table, somehow sobering Bucky even more. “But each year was a surprise. My ma would’ve called it a blessing. I never knew what to do with myself, especially when the war started and I was the only man not being shipped off. . . I was desperate to feel normal. What I got was a hard swing in the other direction.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy at the bar, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I wouldn’t hate it if I had ended up with a stable job, a calm life, and a happy home.

“So I get it. Purpose, normalcy. . . we’re all struggling to find what we lost the last few of years.” Steve clasped Bucky’s shoulder, “But Ma taught me that we always have to stand back up. I don’t care if I have to drag you to your feet, Buck, we’ll get you back up. Whatever we have to do to make it happen.” Bucky knew the stubborn fool in front of him wasn’t going to let him wallow much longer. The tables had turned harshly.

Peggy returned to her seat with three drinks in hand, instantly catching on to the shift in mood that had happened during her absence. Misty-eyed, Steve and Bucky cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

“And while the pair of you are gallivanting around saving the world, I’m washing windows and living with my family, who don’t know what to do with me.” Bucky had meant it as a joke, but it came out much more bitter than intended.

“Still haven’t heard back from the VA?” Bucky just shook his head at Steve’s question, tossing his drink back in one gulp. “You know you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the SSR as long as me and Peggy are there.”

“Eh, that’s not the kind of normal I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asks softly, even gently, for her.

“Guess that’s the million dollar question, huh? A coupla years ago, all I cared about was having a good time and getting through school. Dancing with pretty dames. Maybe get hitched, have some kids.”

“And now?” Peggy prompts in a way that allowed no room for a vague answer.

“I wish I could tell ya, Peg. I really do.”

Peggy’s voice echoed in his mind again.

And now?

Bucky shakes that night from his mind, still not spying you anywhere in the office. Deciding you were either taking a late lunch or were sick, he gets on with his job. Halfway through cleaning the window he notices someone sit at your desk, which was strange. You’ve kept your workplace meticulously tidy since the first day he saw you - surely you wouldn’t appreciate this. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the stranger’s movements as he continues to work. Part of him wants to tell the lady to buzz off for you, another part of him can’t wait to watch you take down the person scrambling up your desk, the other part of him. . . . is definitely attracted to the Desk Invader.

He only catches glimpses of her during his task and her chair is angled away from him to tend to a filing cabinet adjacent to her desk, so he can’t see her face. But Bucky could tell she was graceful. Ruby red nails carded through the mounds of files, curled hair shined in its rolled-back fashion. Her dress was a bold blue - and fit in all the right places if he let his mind wander.

Right when he was getting desperate for a look at her, she swivels her chair back to the desk - revealing half of her face. Fine powder, bright red lipstick, nothing he hasn’t seen his sister don at the beginning of her day.

She’s made up like every other girl he’s seen pass through the office. Well, not every girl. You seemed to prefer a utilitarian approach to your appearance, which he didn’t ha--

And then the stranger turns fully towards the window, smiles, and waves at him.

It was you.

Is that actually her?

Bucky leans back in his rigging and takes you in fully. Yeah, looks like the utilitarian approach was out. In was a dame on-trend and truly pulling it off. Before you were beautiful, charming. Now? With the makeup only serving to highlight your features? You were stunning. Shaking his head, he can feel the heat in his cheeks with the realization that he’s been ogling you while you watch. Your smile falters, shoulders drop ever-so-slightly. Not very gentlemanly of you, Barnes.

Bucky touches his own face and hair, raising a brow. Making it obvious that he was looking you up and down, he quirks his head to the side in question.

You roll your eyes so far into your head, a chuckle escapes from him. After a surreptitious glance over your shoulder at the rest of the bullpen, you point towards the office he assumes belongs to your supervisor. He nods. Quickly, but clearly, you raise a certain finger in the direction of the office door.

A laugh emanates from deep in his chest, Bucky’s shoulders heaving. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed hard enough that his eyes are forced shut. When he opens them again, a similar smile is echoed on your face, definitely pleased with his reaction. You’re sassy. He likes that.

With a remnant of a easygoing-Bucky he’d almost forgotten about, he sticks out his lower lip appreciatively while nodding towards you. Accompanied by a wide grin, he knows you’ve gotten his point. You look good.

You duck your head, but he catches the smile you aim toward your lap. A little something stirs in his chest.

And now?

Then and there, he decides he’s going to allow himself to be impulsive.

Just this once.

Bucky knows for certain he has never completed his job so quickly -and probably never as sloppily. He checks his watch as he smooths down his hair. Just as planned, he’s finished earlier than usual - much to the confusion of the rest of the window washers. After stashing his supplies in the outdoor service closet designated for his team he rounds the building, the front entrance being his destination. The remainder of the team was still cleaning several floors up.

From above Bucky hears his boss shout, “Where you going, Barnes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrison,” he shouts back. “I finished. Got something to take care of.”

“You better be here early tomorrow!”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into his slacks, he favors the stairs for the elevator as he climbs to the sixth floor and is met with a giant bullpen of desks and offices.

That’s when it registers exactly how many women work in this office - funny how he hadn’t noticed before you walked in. He’s become accustomed to having little attention paid to him due to the nature of his job but now at least a dozen sets of cat-eye-lined eyes are set on his every movement.

Oh boy.

Trying to be as nondescript as possible he begins to head to your desk when the abrupt clearing of a throat stops him. Sitting at a huge desk immediately in front of the elevator is the most intimidating woman he’s ever seen. Tall and rail-thin, her features seem to be pulled tight with the fastidious bun resting at the nape of her neck. A gold sign affixed to the front of the desk reads: M. Flannery, Office Manager.

“May I help you. . . sir?” Scrutinizing him behind thick-framed glasses, she somehow dons an expression that makes her more severe.

“Umm. . . I’m just looking for someone. . . ma’am.”

“May I inquire who it is you have business with?”

He waves a hand, warding her away from the chock-full appointment book she was reaching for. “No, I don’t have an appointment or anythin’ like that.”

“Then what exactly is the reason you are here?”

“There’s a typist I was hoping to speak with.”

“What is her name?”

Shit.

“Umm, I- we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. I was hoping to catch her name today.”

Mrs. Flannery hums disapprovingly.

“I know where her desk is,” he points to the furthest corner of the office, “she had on a blue dress today. Can I pop over there and say hello?”

“I am afraid unauthorized persons are not allowed past the front desk.” An argument bubbles in him, but he swallows it down after her stern gaze tells him that it was a lost battle.

“. . . Could you ask her to meet me out here, then?”

“The woman you are looking for has already left for the day.”

“Oh.” All his nervous energy deflates and the letdown weighs heavy in his gut. He turns to leave when Mrs. Flannery speaks again.

“You may leave a note with me and I will deliver it to her when she arrives in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you, ma’am.” He looks down at his empty hands, then scratches the back of his neck. “Got a pad and pen I could use?” She sighs heavily, as if his request is the most inconvenient part of her day. Once she shoves the utensils in his direction, he stares at the paper. In the heat of his impulsivity he hoped he’d see you and know exactly what to say. Now the blank page mocks him. Mrs. Flannery’s pointer finger taps on the desk, urging him to hurry up.

Bucky glances up at the office manager again. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to give me her name, huh?”

“I am not in the habit of giving out young women’s personal information to every dandy that walks in. I will make sure it gets to the girl in the blue dress.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, he scribbles the only thing he could think of and folds the paper twice. Holding out the note Bucky asks, “For her eyes only, ma’am?”

Mrs. Flannery’s eyes narrow as she takes the note from him. “I am offended at the implication that I would violate the privacy of a person’s correspondence.” With an upturned nose she swivels away from Bucky, promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With a spring in his step he returns to the stairwell, whistling a happy tune; purposefully ignoring the room of women still watching his every move.

Chapter Four

Tags:

@abovethesmokestacks @barnesrogersvstheworld @ursulaismymiddlename @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @the-canary @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @katiemarks1942 @usernamemingmei @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @hiddles-rose @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfictionmain

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #Bucky Barnes Fluff #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x Reader #Marvel Fanfiction #All We've Got is Time #beka writes

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euphvriiia · 4 years

Text

hiii , babes !! the name is mar and i’m so excited to be here . i’ve been eyeing the rp since a long time ago so i’m happy that i finally got to apply !! i’m not exactly good at talking about myself , so let’s talk about my kids instead .

☕ . ˚ ◝ ( park jimin. cismale. he/him. ) honey cha is a twenty-four year old scorpio. the baker’s go-to order is vanilla latte with almond milk. they like to listen to i like me better by lauv while they wait for their order. the employees of the deja brew think they are stubborn but swear they’re totally affectionate as well. maybe that’s why fuzzy socks and oversized sweaters, rain gently pattering against your window as you try to fall asleep, a first kiss that takes your breath away, & smiling until your cheeks hurt remind me of them.

trigger warnings : mentions of an illness , death of a parent !!

to be the oldest in a family of four is not easy task, not when your father is barely home and your mother died a long time ago. before getting to the sad part of the story, let’s travel back to the past, when he was was just a child and all the worry hasn’t been put on his shoulders just yet. honey cha was born when the cherry trees were in full blooming season. as the white blossoms fell over seoul, ahreum cha was laying on the hospital bed, holding a small bundle of joy in her arms, tears streaming down her face. the baby was the son she always wanted to have and even jaehyun, who wanted a girl so badly, was crying tears of joy at the sight of his wife and newborn son. when honey was four, his sisters were brought into the world. two identical girls who will grow up to be both a pain in honey’s ass and also his pride and joy. a year later, the family would pack their things and leave korea. the reason why they left and why they chose california is unknown to honey even today. all he remembers from back then was him being barely five, his twin sisters crying in their mother’s arms and their father packing everything. honey grew up beautiful. he was a clever kid and gentle as one could be, always looking up for others, even at such a small age. he liked to take care of his sisters and also to spend time with his mother in their little garden, tending to the flowers ( or well, just helping the woman by bringing her different objects, since he was still too young to understand everything that needed to be done there ). and of course, there was the dancing. honey loved dancing. he would spend his free time learning about it and trying to copy moves he'd see on tv. and, as a present for his 9th birthday, his parents sent him to dance classes.

the heartbreak and sadness hit the cha family later on, when honey was already 10. pregnant with a forth child, a boy this time, ahreum’s body slowly started to grow weaker from a heart illness, illness that honey would not find about until later. despite the doctors telling her that keeping the baby meant pretty much giving up her life, ahreum didn’t want to listen. she cared so much for her children, even for one that put her life in danger. so she went on with the pregnancy and while the baby was born healthy, the mother didn’t survive. it was a shock for the family, especially for their father. anyone who knew the chas, also knew how much jaehyun loved his wife, how she was the light of his eyes and how their love story dated from when they both were still too young to understand what love is. so to cope with his loss, and also because he couldn’t stand to look at his youngest son, jaehyun cha drowned his sorrow in work, turning his back to his children. the same children ahreum cha loved more than her life. honey had to say goodbye to his childhood. with a father that was never there and three younger siblings, he gave up the toys and took something else in return: the role of a parent. that meant his own grieving was put behind, buried deep inside his soul. because he couldn’t just stop going to school, the only way to make sure he’d have time to take care of everyone’s needs was to stop going to the dance classes. as his feelings, his dancing was another thing he tucked away, holding onto the memory only. yet, despite giving up so much just, he never regretted that. to see his siblings happy and doing what they loved was more than enough for him. he even went as far as deciding to stop going to school after highschool, but his sisters spent a lot of time trying to convince him otherwise. that’s how honey managed to get a scholarship for college and now, he's currently majoring in dance.

SHORT INFO :

he got a job at deja brew around a few months ago , but he was a client before that , so he knows everyone .

he’s very bubbly and affectionate , but also can be a teasing little shit

think of him like the mother of the group . after raising three kids on his back ,,, pretty much lmao ,,, it’s hard for him to act like a young adult and not a mother chick

#hqbrew:intro #◟° ‧ * ‹ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒 › ↝ i’m here to collect your hearts .#this is long af djhbvhd i'm sorry

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devilrising · 5 years

Text

Fallen Draco Pt. 1

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count: 3018

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

2nd March, 1998

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard, to know what I know and do nothing. Every day I wake up screaming, nightmares plaguing me in my sleep. Each morning I look in the mirror, and watch as my wings start to fade. Going from purest white, to a darker shade of grey. I’m losing feathers too. There’s a jar by my bed, and a couple others in a drawer, filled with them.

The day they started drooping, I became terrified. I knew what had caused it, but I didn’t want to think about. Angels are rarely men. And when they are, they don’t usually survive for very long. My life up until now was, rather dangerous. I always thought that if the war hadn’t killed me, I would’ve eventually died from being an angel. I guess it’s both.

Voldemort is in the living room of Malfoy Manor, discussing what the next move will be. Father is listening intently, and I’ve been banished to my room, so it must be vital. Maybe there’s new information. Maybe they are planning another battle. I hope I’m not asked to participate. I never asked to be a part of this. I wish I wasn’t. Mother has grown increasingly concerned recently. She is the only confidant I have. The only person I can talk to. Her once beautiful hair has rapidly been turning grey and warn. The wrinkles riddling her skin are more pronounced than last year, and she is

growing frail. I’m terrified of losing her, because that’s where I feel we’re heading.

A knock draws me across the room and towards my door. The wood is dark and thick, keeping up the illusion of no light in the Manor. When I twist the handle and pull the door towards me, I jump. It’s Voldemort. What’s he doing here? He takes in the surprise on my face, and a beam shows itself. On anyone else, I would say that it ‘lit up their face’. With the Dark Lord, however, it’s much more of a wicked, cruel, and insane look. Like he wants to saw my head off in a public courtyard. I cringe at the thought.

“I’ve been wondering, Draco.” I shudder and pray that it isn’t visible. “How would you feel about being a crucial part of the next battle?” Like I have any choice. Like he wouldn’t kill me on the spot if he questioned my loyalty.

“Of course, my lord,” I say as I drop into a bow.

“Wonderful! Would you like to join the meeting in the drawing room, then?”

“That would be much gracious of you, my lord.”

I receive no reply, just a hand on my shoulder as I walk down the corridor and into the room my father is in.

“You’re here, Draco. Glad. Take a seat over there.” Father gestures to a black leather armchair, and I sit on the very edge of the cushion. Voldemort strides in after me, and takes a seat opposite my father. He begins informing me about the recent decision to crash the Ministry. But not just any part of the Ministry. No, no, we need to be more ambitious than that. That’s predictable even. No. We are crashing the Unspeakables’ department.

Horror drips down my spine, but I smile and nod at the half-man in front of me. I tell him that I think it’s a marvellous idea, and will really persuade people to join the correct side of this war. In my head, I’m screaming. It’s the worst idea imaginable. Who knows what’s in that department? If someone was to so much as knock something, we could all be dead. What if someone was to wear a certain metal that reacted with an object? I can’t see this going at all well, but I sit in silence, a fake smile on my face.

***

9th March, 1998

I’m in over my head. I’ve known the next ploy for a week exactly, and have come up with every possible way this mission could fail. We could burn alive. Explode. Drown. Rapidly age. Turn into objects. Have the air sucked out of our bodies. The list is so long I forget the first few I wrote down. I have no idea why Voldemort decided the Unspeakable department was a good plan. But then again, when has he ever had a good plan?

The wind roars around my ears, and I can’t hear anything other than my pulse and hammering heart. Mountains are beautiful to look at, but to hike them? That’s another story entirely. But I needed to get away. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as my father and Voldemort. The two men are positively insane. They both need a mental asylum.

I sweep my eyes over the ground below, and marvel at the scene stretched before me. The view from Skiddaw mountain is astonishing. I feel tiny in comparison to everything else I can see. I feel like I’m insignificant. A welcome emotion for me recently. The sky above me is dull and cloudy, but there is no rain falling today. It’s Monday, and I should be at Hogwarts, but I’ve been pulled out for the remainder of Seventh Year. Potter isn’t there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing much. Studies became quite boring Sixth Year, if I’m being honest.

Potter. Apparently he is off in the world somewhere, trying to locate and destroy Horcruxes. I applaud him for trying, but there is no way he’ll survive that. Voldemort told me himself how difficult they are to find, and that to actually get a hold of them is practically impossible. I’ve tried to imagine where they would be, what they would be, but have always come up dry. I don’t know of a single place so dangerous. Potter must be out of his mind. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his precious Order.

Suddenly no longer interested in the scenery below me, I turn around and walk over to the tree where I’ve laid all my things out. I sit on the emerald picnic rug, and bite into one of the apples I brought. The pink skin matches what colour I know my cheeks must be, and I hum with the sweet taste filling my mouth. The branches above me sway in the gentle breeze, and I’m reminded of autumn days in Third Year. Before everything started going south rapidly.

That was the year with Black escaping from Azkaban. The year with the stupid hypogriff breaking my arm. The year Granger punched me, and Potter laughed at me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very often. My thoughts start straying back to life at Hogwarts, before the world turned a head. Before my family started to repeatedly fulfill “tasks” and “assignments”. Before I had to seclude myself from my friends, the rest of Slytherin, and before I had to push myself to the extremes of my magical capabilities.

The Vanishing Cupboard, the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbleodre’s death, and the Sectumsempra incident. Last year was a bitch. I can’t see this year being any improvement however. The plans that I’ve overheard (due to unfold in May) haunt me in my sleep. I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one to talk to. To tell how scared I am.

The wind starts picking up, and the emerald rug beneath me lifts up in the breeze. Although it’s no longer a breeze. It’s more like a blustery wind than anything else. Regardless, I decide that it’s probably for the better to leave Skiddaw mountain and return to the Manor. I use my wand and a complex charm my father taught me in order to pack up all my things. I watch as everything floats above the rug, which starts folding itself into a square. The food I didn’t eat flies into the basket I brought, neatly organised and sorted. Then the rug shrinks, and enters into the basket. The basket then shrinks itself, so now I can fit it in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. Happy with the charm, I nod to myself and pick up my Nimbus 2001 from where it was resting against the tree.

Even though the wind is brutal, I would rather fly the 475-ish kilometres back to Wiltshire, than accidentally apparate into a meeting again. That didn’t work out so well for me last time.

***

11th March, 1998

Life is getting worse. It’s harder and harder each day to tell myself that it will be okay. Two days ago, I was beaten into unconsciousness for arriving after my curfew. The wind had made it nearly impossible to fly, and I struggled the whole way to the Manor. Being the stubborn prat that I am, I was confident that I would make it back before 11pm. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

As an added punishment, I am grounded to my room. But my father and Voldemort don’t do things by half. No. They have come up with specially designed wards to let them in, but to keep everyone else out. Not to mention, I physically can’t leave. If I try, I’m electrocuted until I pass out. If that happens four times, I’m instantly killed. I am forced to stay in my tiny, dark, uncomforting room for a week. The only thing I’m allowed to do is write letters. But I have no way of sending them out to anyone or anywhere. With no owl to carry them, I’m doomed. They deliberately let me write for help, knowing that I’m not stupid enough to actually do it.

Instead, I write stories, I draw woodland animals (and other more, uh, explicit ones, but those are burned immediately after completion). It’s relaxing. With nothing but ink and parchment, I waste away the hours in front of the fire. The warmth very welcome in the cold month March is shaping up to be. Eventually tired with ink, I grab down a book on puzzles from my shelves. The cover is faded, deep purple, the title written in silver thread. I’ve read this so many times, solved each riddle, word puzzle, and math problem, but I open it anyway.

The first one is easy. “.--. ..- --.. --.. .-.. . ... - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... --. . -. . .-. .- - .. --- -. ...” The problem is written in Morse code, and it takes less than a minute to have it decoded. “Puzzles Through Generations” is the title of the book, and I find it rather humorous that it’s also the first problem. I smile to myself, before diving headfirst into the book.

***

Later that same evening, I start to grow restless. With nothing else in my room, I’ve resorted to lying on my bed, face buried in a pillow. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Why I allowed myself to get into this mess. Why I even bothered coming back to the Manor. I wonder, not for the first time, why I’m given so much freedom. Well, except for right now, of course. I’m generally permitted all through the Manor and it’s grounds. I’m given unlimited access to anywhere on the continent, so long as I can be traced.

I always come to the same conclusion though. The two terrible excuses for men know I won’t leave. They know that I know that if I was to desert them, they would track me. Voldemort would employ thousands of Death Eaters to find me, and to bring me back to him to die at his hands. Hours of torture would occur, worsened because of my father. I would be considered a ‘traitor’. I have nothing wrong with that last bit, of course. But I wouldn’t want to leave my mother. She would surely be punished for my actions, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.

I stand up from the bed, pace over to the small bathroom joined to my bedroom, and stare at my reflection. I look ill. My hair is in shambles, strewn all over my face. It almost looks like Potter’s, except for the colours, which are starkly opposite. My eyes have sunken into my skin, dark rings under them. My complexion has become sickly pale, and I wonder when this happened. I’ve probably looked terrible for months, but been too busy with everything else (like surviving) to notice.

Trying desperately to salvage my appearance I cast a few simple charms. I straighten out my hair, making it fall neatly to my scalp. After struggling with my complexion for a while, I give up and move to my eyes. The bags are covered with a glamour that takes all of my energy. I’m so tired from the spells that I pad back to my bed and gladly fall asleep. In my dreams, I question why I was worn out so quickly, but pass it off as being trapped in a room with no sun, limited food and water, and lack of new oxygen.

***

15th March, 1998

I’m becoming desperate. I was let out of my room for an hour earlier this morning, and dragged outside into the sun and air. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it was better than nothing but artificial lights. Food was handed to me, and I greedily ate it, the first proper meal I’d had in six days. I didn’t think the occasional plate of unappetising gloop counted. After fifteen minutes, I was dragged back inside once again, and led into the drawing room where I first accepted the Dark Mark. I was then tortured for the remainder of the hour.

Legilimency was first. Voldemort did it himself. Digging through my memories to find any weakness he could find. He had eventually decided on one of Potter lunging at me, fury in his eyes. I was taunted with it for ages, before being placed under the Cruciatus Curse. It had been extreme pain, and I’m thankful it’s over now. Still, the sensation is fresh in my mind, and I’m being plagued by paranoia.

Desperation fills me just from the memory, and I silently panic at my desk. I need to get out of here. My wings are losing colour every day. Feathers have filled the jar next to my bed, and I’ve started a fourth. I need to get help immediately. I’m seriously starting to wonder how long I have left. As a male angel, I never should’ve lived this long. I should’ve died years ago. I stretch my fading wings out, and try to gently flutter them. No use. Instead, I watch as a single feather floats to the carpet beneath my feet.

Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, and it’s desperation that finally drives me to pick up a quill. It’s intense, urgent need that makes me pull a sheet of parchment from my stack. It’s in despair that I actually touch the inked quill to the parchment. I quickly pen a letter to the first person I can think of to save me. Shuddering, I use my wand to summon a muggle postage stamp from the hallway outside, slip it under the door, and stick it to the envelope I pulled from a drawer.

A shiver goes through me as I seal the letter in the envelope. I don’t know how to send it to him, until I remember about the bathroom. I cross the bedroom and turn the water on in the shower in order to cover any noise I might make. Then I drag a chair in from the bedroom, and place it directly beneath the air vent. Standing in the chair precariously, I unattach the grille from the ceiling and place it gently onto the white tiles. The gap is too small for anything but my hand to get through, and grin. There’s no way anyone will think I’ve used this air vent for anything. What’s the point after all?

Carefully, I place the letter into the vent opening and pull my wand from my pocket. Knowing I’ll be drained after this no matter what I do, I decide to use everything left in me to lurch the letter up. A shock of green particles shoot from my wand tip, and they push the letter up the vent. I watch as it disappears from view and into the kitchen vent. I start to track the letter with my mind. Following it as it flies through the deserted kitchen, and out of the window in the dining room. I know it’s made it out of the wards when the green barges into my wand again, knocking me of the chair I’m still standing on.

Now I can only hope that Potter replies. Or rather, that he doesn’t.

***

22nd March, 1998

It’s been a week now, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I have been let out of my room though. My wings have lost all of the pure white, and are now as dark as a raven. It’s quite striking, the dark colour of the few feathers I have left, against my sickly pale skin and platinum hair. I always thought that if I lost my wings, there would be a skeleton left to haunt me of the sins I had committed. Instead, there is nothing. The feathers aren’t attached to anything but air. Maybe it’s because of the extremity of the darkness encompassing me.

I no longer feel much at all, just longing to be saved. Even if it’s by my previous enemy.

***

24th March, 1998

My wings are totally gone. Vanished from existence. I feel awful. The steady stream of food, sun, water, and air being spoon-fed to me isn’t enough. My mother is blaming herself, and I can’t stand seeing her beyond herself. I start praying to a god I don’t believe in for Potter to arrive.

***

26th March, 1998

I threw up today. It’s been 24 days since this whole thing started. Scars have made themselves a home between my shoulder blades, permanently tormenting me. I wish not for the first time that I’d done something sooner. Before I was in over my head. Potter had better get here soon.

***

A/N: Next part will be out same time next week! If you want to be tagged in the next uploads, please tell me so you don’t miss out! 🥰

Masterlist — Next Part

#devilrising #Fallen Draco #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #cute #fanfiction #lol #draco lucius malfoy #draco/harry #draco x harry #harry x draco #h/d #fanfic #drarry fanfic #cute drarry

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 5 years

Note

How about.. moxiety :) virgil lost his cat and patton wants to make sure he got them back!

Y E S Moxiety was my first thought, but I had ideas for others, too. Here we go! It’s a liiiiiitttle lengthy, so I’ll add a read more.

The sky was fittingly overcast as Virgil trudged down the sidewalk; the stack of “MISSING” posters under his left arm shifted uncomfortably and he sighed, adjusting for the fifth time to make sure the sheets didn’t spill out onto the concrete. He approached a wooden telephone pole and pulled out a poster, sticking it to the post with a thumbtack and another sigh.

MISSINGOogie Boogie (called Oobie)Runaway idiot; return ASAP Is not an outdoor cat and has claws $725 reward Please contact 555-8473

He stared longingly at the photo of his cat, his already big eyes wide as he sat upright (for once) and staring at the phone camera. It’d been three days since Oobie (short for Oogie Boogie) vanished, and Virgil was starting to worry. Well, more than normal. The chubby, beige feline was 99% an indoor cat, and usually he just popped outside to investigate the backyard before sauntering back through the sliding glass door like he was too good for the world outside his walls and all the creatures therein (or really there-out.)

Last Sunday, though, Virgil had left the back door open for Oobie because he was in a rush to get to his study session with Logan Patterson, another astronomy fan in his intro. course whose company he found quite companionable. In his haste, he’d left it open all afternoon and into the evening and returned to find Oobie had not.

The absence of a pet is always a difficult experience, but for Virgil missing Oobie was downright painful. Oobie was Virgil’s emotional support animal; the sassy cat could sense and respond to Virgil’s shifts in mood easier than he could chase down the occasional cat nip gifts Virgil brought home. Without Oobie, Virgil could survive, but life was emptier and that much more difficult to deal with.

Virgil jumped and nearly dropped the precariously placed posters when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He reached around, praying it was a call from Oobie’s rescuer.

[+1 555-6666] I saw you cat. I hope it didn’t suffer. Too much.

“What the HELL?!” Virgil gasped audibly and blocked the number, taking deep breaths. People sucked sometimes.

His phone buzzed again.

[+1 555-3345] I’m looking for my cat, too. Please let me know if you get any leads on a calico.

Virgil bit his lips but exhaled slowly.

[+1 555-8473]Sure

[+1 555-3345] Thanks.

Useless. Virgil debated flicking his phone to silent mode but decided against it for the greater good. He scowled when the phone buzzed incessantly as he went to put it back in his pocket; he set down the posters and took out the phone, brows raising at the volume and content of messages from the number.

[+1 555-7188] Are you still looking for your cat?![+1 555-7188] I’m SO sorry he’s missing!![+1 555-7188] Unless you found him, which if you did, congrats!!!!!

[+1 555-7188] But if not I hope you find him soon!!

[+1 555-7188] And I can help you look if you still are![+1 555-7188] My name is Patton, by the way! I’m a vet student, not a creeper; I promise!

Virgil laughed roughly, bewildered at the stream of messages, before replying.

[+1 555-8473]Hi Patton, I’m Virgil (though you probably already know that from the missing posters.) Psych student Yeah I’m still looking for Oobie. I don’t need help, really. Just keep an eye and ear out? Maybe spread the word? Thanks so much for the offer and interest.

Patton replied instantly.

[+1 555-7188] Can do! Good luck!

Virgil chuckled; Patton had to be the bubbliest person he’d come into contact with, in person and otherwise. He finally pocketed his phone and continued around the combined commercial and residential area, silently praying someone would call about Oobie soon.

Virgil stumbled through his door around 6pm, emotionally wrecked and exhausted from his day. The calico owner had texted him hourly, finally stopping after they announced it’d been found. Virgil hadn’t replied.

He set his empty box of thumbtacks on the coffee table and collapsed onto his couch, reclining so that he was almost laying down, and he stared sadly at the ceiling. Normally, Oobie would jump on his chest and stare him down until he fed him dinner or gave him a treat. He never thought he’d miss that.

His eyes filled, and he swiped a sleeve over his face, grimacing when his phone buzzed. One more false lead or asshole, and he was calling the cops.

[+1 555-7188] Hey, it’s Patton! Any luck today?

[+1 555-8473] no still trying lots of assholes, false leads, and other desperate pet owners

[+1 555-7188] I’m so sorry, Virgil. I can check with the local shelters and animals control centers. I volunteer at the local shelter to get experience for my program, so I’ll help you out there!

[+1 555-8473]Wow thanks so much, Patton.

[+1 555-7188] Of course!

A few minutes of silence passed, and his phone buzzed just as he flicked on his TV and laptop.

[+1 555-7188] So you’re a psych student?

Virgil sighed.

[+1 555-8473]Yeah I’m a senior so Oobie is pretty important to me right now.

[+1 555-7188] Me, too! Probably not at the same school, though. I was at the local Tech. School before I transferred for this vet program.[+1 555-7188]Why is Oobie so important right now? Besides being your best friend, of course!

[+1 555-8473]Nice. I have an anxiety disorder Oobie is my emotional support animal

[+1 555-7188] Oh, wow! I’ve heard of that, but I haven’t met anyone who actually has one. That is a real bummer; I really hope he comes home soon!

[+1 555-8473]me too

[+1 555-7188] So what’s your favorite part of psych? I took an intro. class as a gen. Ed. Requirement, but I liked it a lot!

[+1 555-8473]Either abnormal or behavioral the human brain is just wild Neuropsych is cool too

[+1 555-7188] Why those?

[+1 555-8473]they helped me understand myself once we hit the surface I went deep and saw everything I related to it was interesting and has helped me grow a lot

[+1 555-7188] That’s awesome! I’m so glad it’s been a useful experience for you.

[+1 555-8473]Yeah what about you? why vet school?

[+1 555-7188] I’ll admit. The science part of it was and is really hard, but I love the animals so much! It’s worth it! I love knowing that I help animals AND their humans!

[+1 555-8473]that’s really nice of you

Virgil and Patton went back and forth for a while longer, discussing future plans and majors until Patton needed to pay attention in class. Virgil finally set down his phone and scrolled through Hulu, trying to find another distraction to fill the loneliness.

A full week went by with no word on Oobie. Virgil was starting to loose hope, and he began to accept that he might have to find a new companion.Sunday afternoon found him slumped in Starbucks, scrolling through his phone and looking at shelters in the area when a message popped up at the top of the screen. He hit it.

[+1 555-7188]Hi, Virgil! It’s Patton! Seeing as it’s been a week since Oobie took a vacation, I just wanted to check in and see if there’s been any progress.

Virgil sighed. He was glad, in a way, for Patton’s concern, but he was also annoyed with the reminder and admittance of Oobie’s absence.

[+1 555-8473] Nope, no dice He’s still chillin in paradise somewhere

[+1-555-7188] Oh, no!! I’m so sorry to hear that. I can keep checking in with the local shelters and animals control centers between classes and shifts.

[+1-555-8473]Thank you

Virgil pinched his brow and took a breath. Oobie needed to get his little asshole self home soon. -

Buzz buzz buzz buzz Virgil groaned and rolled over, picking up his phone and blinking blankly at his screen until he recognized the number.

“Hello?”

“Virgil!” A tone that was far too chipper for 5am made him bite back a groan. “It’s Patton! I think my classmate found Oobie!”

Virgil’s heart pounded and he sat up slowly.

“Where?”

“She volunteers at the Akron Street Animal Shelter. She just texted me and said an older woman and her caretaker brought in a cat that matches Oobie’s description.”

“Akron is a couple minutes from here.” Virgil pushed himself out of bed and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie. “That could be him. Thank you so much, Patton.”

“Absolutely! I gotta go; good luck!” Beep beep beep

Virgil grabbed Oobie’s carrying case and his keys and set off for the shelter, arriving in just minutes.

“Hey.” He panted as he approached the desk. “I....Patton just called me about a cat.”

“Patton?” The desk clerk looked him over quizzically, and then he remembered.

“He volunteers somewhere else. I-whatever. I heard you just got a white cat from an old lady.”

“Oh, yes. He’s likely still being examined for injury or illness, so please take a seat. I’ll go see if they’re at a point where you can see him. If he’s yours, I’ll have a few discharge forms for you.”

“Thanks.” Virgil sank into the closest chair and breathed, trying to calm his racing pulse.

“Sir?” A vet. tech. with bright pink scrubs and a dark ponytail smiled at him. “You can come see him. Did Patton send you?”

“Yeah.” Virgil rose and offered a weary smile. “Thank you so much for calling him. I’m Virgil, by the way.”

“Valerie.” She gestured down the hall and walked with him. “Second door to the left here-“

She opened the door, freeing the once muffled meows into the hallway, and Virgil absorbed the mass of white fur and big blue eyes in front of him. Virgil’s eyes instantly filled with tears, and he laughed wetly.

“Yup, that’s Oobie.” He set down the cat carrier and went to the table, reaching out a rusted hand for Oobie to inspect. The cat sniffed briefly before bumping his head against his knuckles and purring loudly. “Hey, buddy. Is he okay?”

“Nothing we could find. Seems like he just wandered off. The woman said she found him harassing the birds in her bird bath.”

“Sounds right.” Virgil scooped Oobie off of the table and into his embrace, and the normally stubborn creature melted into his arms, settling easily over his forearms and purring loudly. “Thank you so much.”

“Absolutely!” Valerie beamed. “I’m so glad we could help! Patton will be thrilled.” She laughed. “You can stay here and visit with Oobie; I’ll get the discharge paper work and make sure we don’t need to do anything else.”

“Thanks.” Virgil settled Oobie back on the table; the cat mewed in protest, but Virgil rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. Taking Oobie back in one hand, Virgil snapped a quick selfie.

[+1 555-8473] success[+1 555-7188] OMG YAY!!!!!! IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU BOTH!!!!! IM LITERALLY CRYING!!!!

Big, framed brown eyes and chestnut brown hair filled Virgil’s screen, and his heart skipped a bit. He hadn’t expected Patton to be so....

[+1 555-8473]only tears of happiness I hope

[+1 555-7188] Of course!

Virgil smiled.

[+1 555-8473]thank you so so much for helping me get my little buddy back

Virgil bit his lip. [+1 555-8473]I’d love to pay you back. Coffee? On me?

[Patton!] I’d love to!

[Virgil

Hope you liked it! This was super fun to do.

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