kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog - Tumblr blog

kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Sage

Static played softly on the radio, the occasional note coming through from whatever station Sage and her father had been listening to. Her breath and hand left a clear imprint on the fogged-up window; the trees rushing past standing tall, a warning to those who might be unaware of the danger they concealed.

“We’ll need to stop for gas soon,” Sage’s father, Shannon, attempted to get his daughter’s attention, glancing over at her as he looked for a turn off to the nearest gas station. “why don’t you get something to drink while we’re stopped?” Sage sighed, but nodded in response, not even looking up from the window.

In the back seat, Sage’s four-year-old border collie, Cricket, lifted her head off the back-seat, and started growling at the forest.

“Down girl,” Sage muttered half-heartedly, “it’s only the wind.” The car was silent after that, except for the radio still playing softly in the background.

----

When they finally found a place to stop, it was at an old gas station off to the side of the road, surrounded by trees; the only other car was parked next to the store, and probably belonged to whomever was inside.

Sage jumped out of the car almost before it had come to a full stop, and, taking her dad’s advice, grabbed two drinks and a bag of potato chips before plopping them down at the register in front of a bored looking teenager, with blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes glued to her phone.

“Excuse me?” Sage asked quietly “I’d like to pay now.” The cashier ignored her, staying focused on whatever was on her phone.

“Hello?” Sage tried again.

“I heard you the first time.” the blonde replied rudely.

“I just wanted to know how much I owe you.” Sage hadn’t expected this kind of reaction.

“…and I’d like a purple unicorn…” the cashier snarked, rolling her eyes. “The Monsters are two dollars, the chips are five, anything else?” Sage placed the money on the counter, shaking her head shyly. She grabbed her purchases, and went back outside, only to be greeted by the familiar sight of grey, cloudy skies, something that she was very used to, being raised in Seattle.

“You get what you need, Kiddo?” her father tore her attention away from the sky, as she started messing with the charms on her necklace. Seeing this, her father’s expression softened. “I miss her too, Sage. But there was nothing we could have done.” Sage’s face turned red, and tears streamed down her face, before she stormed back to the car.

“Why’d you have to leave us, mom?” Sage started sobbing into her hands, as Cricket rested her head on her shoulder, whining softly. Lifting her head, Sage smiled slightly petting her dog’s head, earning a soft bark and a lick to the face in response.

Outside, Shannon lit a cigarette, hands shaking, trying to hold back his own tears. Had his wife been with them, she would have laughed at the situation, but since her death, neither himself nor Sage had known what to do with themselves. The best he could hope for, was that starting over in a new town would do them some good.

---

The outside of their new home was, as expected, made out of logs. It was older, and looked like it could be cozy – with a few minor changes. There was a fireplace inside based on the chimney Sage was able to see poking out from behind one of the trees that had begun to lean on the roof, after years of wind and rain storms.

Her father had gone inside quite a while ago, but Sage just sat in the car staring, subconsciously fiddling with the sleeves of her forest green sweater. Her mother would have loved this place, she had always dreamed of living in a log cabin, and Sage wondered if this was her father’s way of making that happen, of making sure that even if Marty herself wasn’t able to, her family was given the chance to live out her dream for her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sage unbuckled her seatbelt, and slowly clambered out of the car. Opening the back door, Cricket hopped out, and sniffed the ground around them, exploring her new home, before returning to her mistress. Sage smiled at the familiar act, and grabbed her leather backpack off of the floor of the backseat. Hearing her father calling for her from the front door, Sage made her way to the steps leading up the front porch, the late autumn drizzle not fazing her.

“Well?” Sage raised a curious eyebrow at her father’s open-ended question. “What do you think?” he clarified, seeing the expression on her face.

“It’s nice. I think Mom would have liked it here.” Sage tried not to cry at the thought of her mother, instead fiddling with her necklace, like she had earlier.

“Yeah,” her father sighed sadly, “I think she would have.” The pair were silent for a moment, before Sage decided to set down her bag in the laundry room, entering from the backdoor, that was open, now that Cricket had pushed her way in between the duo, looking for her bed.

“We should start unpacking, get settled in for the night.” Shannon said, waiting for his daughter to say something, anything, that would show that she had heard him.

“Sure,” Sage’s boots could be heard faintly against the hardwood floors of the cabin. “let me put down my bag somewhere, and I’ll help you get the boxes from the back of the truck.” Sage looked around, curiously. The kitchen where she and her father were currently standing was open to the living room, where there was a wood stove burning brightly from the fireplace, a couch and two overstuffed chairs facing it, and a coffee table to place mugs resting in between. The large wood dining table was next to the wall in the kitchen, a bench on either side, and a window looking out into the forest. The laundry room, where cricket could be heard busily snuffling around, lay behind the kitchen, across from the bathroom. The backdoor where Sage had entered led through the laundry room, and Sage didn’t feel the need to see the old utility sink or washer and dryer again. Continuing her exploration, Sage climbed up the stairs, her dog closely following, ready to scare off any intruding raccoons. Upstairs she found two bedrooms, and a loft space. Seeing that was all, Sage placed her bag down on the bed in an empty room, before heading back down the stairs to help her father carry in the boxes they had taken with them from their apartment back in Seattle.

Shannon, seeing that Sage had gone up the stairs in search of her room went outside to start bringing in boxes. Chewing on the end of his cigarette, he opened the back of the pick-up; seeing the small collection of brown cardboard boxes, he was reminded of just how much they had left behind in their move to Oregon. They had brought none of their furniture, and had brought only some of their clothes. What they had brought, was deemed necessary: cooking utensils, non-perishable food items, and a few mementos of Marty.

Putting out his cigarette, Shannon reached for the nearest box, hearing Sage’s boots on the porch as she made her way over to him.

“Hey, Pop,” He grunted in response, showing he had heard. “do we need to go to town and get anything for tomorrow’s breakfast, or do we have enough?” Shannon thought for a moment before tossing his daughter the keys to the truck.

“Once we’re done getting the boxes inside you can go to town and get some food, if you like,” he responded gruffly. “we don’t need too much, we can always pick up more tomorrow, once we know what we need.” Sage nodded, pulling her jacket tighter around herself, as she picked up a box, and headed back inside. Setting it down, turned around to go get another, only to see a strange man in a black rain jacket standing at the bottom of the steps.

“May I help you?” she asked the man cautiously, reaching for her mother’s knife in her back pocket.

“Shannon Murphy live here?” the man questioned, jerking a thumb at the cabin.

“Dad!” Sage called into the living room, “Someone’s looking for you!” turning to the man, she excused herself, whistling for Cricket, and continuing with unloading the truck, as the big black and white dog came bulleting from just beyond the tree-line.

“Robert,” Sage heard her father greet the man, still standing by the stairs, with a friendly pat on the back. “It’s good to see you. Did you need something?” Sage grabbed another box out of the back, Cricket loyally following her back into the house, pausing to sniff the stranger, and yapping happily when he leaned over slightly to scratch the scruff of her neck.

“Just wanted to see you found the place alright, and see if I needed to send Sheriff Stone out with search party or not.” Chuckling her father told the man, Robert, that everything was fine, and he would be good to start work at the lumber yard tomorrow if need be.

---

Pulling up in front of the grocer’s, Sage took a deep breath, before hoping not to have a similar encounter as she had with the cashier from the gas station earlier. She killed the ignition, picking up her wallet and phone from where she had tossed them on the seat next to her.

After getting all the boxes out of the truck and unpacking the food, it was decided that they needed a few basics to tide them over until they had settled in a bit more and were able to see what they really needed. Tomorrow, Sage decided, she would come back if they needed anything else. Picking up a package of coffee beans, and another of coffee filters, sage placed both into her basket, before moving on to the dairy section.

Thought’s wandering, Sage wondered how the kids in her new school would react to her, an outsider from the city, coming in during the middle of the year. Picking up eggs, and milk, Sage went over to get marshmallows and chocolate, for s’mores, not noticing the two pairs dark eyes watching her from the front of the store.

Hunter watched, intrigued, as the petit girl walked through the store, occasional grabbing an item or two and putting them in the basket hanging from her arm. So far, she hadn’t noticed his staring, and Hunter wondered what she was thinking about. His friend, Austin, walked over to him from where he’d been slacking off by the other cash register. Whistling, Austin waved a hand in front of his face, blue eyes following the brunet’s gaze.

“I get that she’s hot and all, but staring at her will just creep her out, man.” Hunter rolled his eyes, but turned his gaze to his friend anyway.

“Have you seen her here before?” he asked, curious about the new girl.

“No. I’d have remembered if I had, trust me.” Fighting back a smirk, Hunter rolled his eyes at Austin’s antics, noticing that the girl, whatever her name was, had finished her shopping, and was headed in their direction.

Sage walked up to the counter, where two boys were standing. They seemed about her age; one of them was wearing a grey beanie and a red flannel over some kind of t-shirt. He was smirking in her direction, like he knewshe had just moved here, and that she had just lost her mom. And he probably knew at least one of those things, it was a small town after all – everyone knew everyone. The other boy looked smug, with a player type of attitude. He wore a dark t-shirt and black jeans. His messy bond hair making him look simultaneously ridiculous and self-assured at the safe time. He was leaning over the front of the counter beanie-guy was standing behind. Both had on aprons with the store’s name, Millcreek Family Grocer’s, printed on the front with nameplates pinned to the right of the apron.

As she got closer, Sage was able to see that blondie was named Austin, while the one with the beanie was named Hunter. Smiling shyly, Sage placed her basket down, and waited patiently as ‘Hunter’ scanned her items, putting them into plastic shopping bags as ‘Austin’ continued talking about god only knows what. Zoning back in, Sage handed Hunter two twenties, and grabbed her groceries, not bothering to collect her change. Heading back outside, Sage was glad that she had parked in front of the store, as rain poured down, harder than the previous drizzle.

---

Sage had never been so glad to get out of school on Friday afternoon, but when the bell rang, signaling the end of her last class for the day, Sage booked it out of the school as fast as she could, making her way to the bus before Austin or Hunter could approach her.

Her first week at Millcreek High had been one of the most stressful she could remember. Though typically quiet, Sage had never found it so hard to fit in at school before; maybe it was because it was a small town, but the only people to make her feel welcome had been Robert, her father’s boss who had shown up at their door the first night they spent in Millcreek, and Hunter and Austin. The latter two had befriended Sage as soon as they noticed her getting picked on, making sure that she sat with them at lunch, and was always with one of them when at school. Otherwise, she was largely ignored by the adults in the town (minus the men who worked with her father, who seemed to genuinely appreciate it when she had brought them all cookies her first week before starting school) or picked on by the rest of the student body.

Taking a seat in the back of the bus, Sage stared out the window at the students streaming out of the multiple exits of the school. Someone had started a rumor that Sage was going to be the next “Emily”. A girl who was kidnaped in the nineteen-eighties, who was found in the forest lying face down in the river. Her parents had been devastated, and later moved out of Millcreek. Since her discovery, “Emily” had become a cruel, yet popular nickname for those who didn’t fit in. Sage didn’t want to be known as an “Emily”, yet she knew it would take a while before she lost the nickname – if she ever did.

Feeling the seat next to her shift, Sage turned to see Hunter. Since they had met, the two had become close, and Sage would be lying to say that didn’t harbor slight feelings for him. With a sympathetic smile, Hunter pulled Sage into a hug, resting his chin on her head, and letting her tears soak into his always-present-flannel. Pulling away, Sage offer a sad smile, wiping away the tears dripping down her cheeks.

“You good?” Sage nodded, as Hunter looked at her, brown eyes filled with concern. As the bus passed the old mill, now deserted as winter closed in, Sage rested her head back on Hunter’s shoulder.

Austin’s head popped over the seat in front of them. “Hey, lovebirds. Hate to break up the cuddle fest, but I was going to head over to the diner. You guys coming?” Sage and Hunter exchanged a look.

“Don’t you have work?” Sage asked wonderingly, as Hunter raised an eyebrow at his friend’s greeting.

“Meh,” Austin shrugged. “I don’t care. ‘sides, stores are closed today.”

“I’m in. What about you?” Hunter turned to Sage. “If you can’t come, that’s fine.” Sage bit her lip, considering. She was supposed to go home, and help make dinner for her dad and some of his friends from the mill. She also had homework, that she didn’t want to be stuck with on Sunday.

“Maybe next time. Dad’s having some of the guys from the mill come over, and I need to help out.”

Both shrugged, and agreed that they could all get together later, and they’d probably see each other at diner anyway, since Robert, Hunter’s Grandfather, and Austin’s dad, William, would both be there with their families.

---

That night the conversation at diner had somehow turned to the disappearance of a girl from the next town over. She had last been seen with her uncle a week ago, and her disappearance was eerily similar to that of Emily Cartwright nearly thirty-three years ago. There were rumors that she even looked similar to the unfortunate girl from before.

“What do you mean? You think it’s some kind of sick remembrance or something?” One of her father’s coworkers, William, asked raising his voice slightly, in a panic.

“Who knows,” Sage’s father placated. “But it sure as hell is creepy how similar everything is.” Just as Shannon was about to reach for his whisky glass, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers, heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs, coming towards the front door. Cricket raised her head, putting it back down on her paws, as she recognized the sounds of Austin and Hunter’s boots on the porch.

Quick knocking, soon followed by a shout, caused the dog to stand up, as her owner walked over to the door. Falling forward, Hunter was barely able to catch Austin as the door was swung open, by a surprised Sage.

“What are you two doing back here so quickly?” Sage hadn’t thought she would see her friends so soon after they had left to get fire wood. Noticing the growing red stain on Austin’s shirt, where he was gripping his side, Sage gasped sharply, gaining the attention of several others in the room.

“What happened,” Robert asked his grandson, as he helped Austin to the couch, and lifting his shirt up gently, to see the extent of the injury, while silently praying it was something that he would know how to deal with. What he was greeted with was not what he expected. It was a bullet wound. It seemed to have missed anything vital, but Austin was bleeding profusely from where he had been shot. His breathing was shallow, and he kept grimacing in pain.

“We,” Hunter gasped for breath, collapsing on to a nearby chair, as Sage handed him a glass of water. “went to go get fire would from the mill, because there wasn’t any dry wood around here,” he took a sip of the water, smiling gratefully at Sage as she rested her hand on his shoulder. “we took a shortcut. Through the forest. We’ve gone that way at least a thousand times before.” Closing his eyes, Hunter took a deep breath shaking slightly, as he continued. “We found the girl.”

Everyone stared at him, shock written clearly on their faces, in their furrowed brows, and tight-lipped expressions.

“what do you mean you found the girl?” Shannon questioned cautiously.

Swallowing, Hunter continued “We found the missing girl. She was hanging from a tree;” he paused, took another breath. “Her head was hanging forward, she was hanging by her arms.” He shuddered, remember the look in her glassy eyes. A look of pure terror. Her blonde hair hanging limply, what clothes she still had on torn and covered in blood. Her skin pale and ghostly in the moonlight.

“We didn’t know if she was alive still or not, so we went to go see.” Hunter vividly remembered the man coming out from behind the tree. He was grinning maliciously, a gun pointed in their direction.

“Well, what do we have here?” The man’s eyes glinted viciously. “I guess I’ll have to kill you both. You weren’t supposed to see this,” he paused. “no one was.” Raising his gun, the man pointed the gun at Hunter’s chest. Austin shoving him out of the way just in time, getting shot in the side.

Helping his friend up, Hunter and a bleary and shocked Austin ran. They ducked out of the way of low hanging branches, jumped over fallen logs, and splashed through puddles. A bullet whizzed past Hunter’s head, lodging itself into the bark of a nearby tree, as the man chased after them, chuckling maliciously.

The last thing Hunter heard, before the man stopped chasing them, was: “The next shot I take, will hit your little girlfriend right in the heart.”

---

Hunter sat bolt upright, and sighed softly calming down as he saw his wife lying next to him in their bed. Resting a hand on Sage’s swollen belly, Hunter remembered the details of his dream, no, not dream. All of those things had really happened. That was the night he lost his childhood best friend. It was also the night he told Sage how he felt. It felt like so long ago, but it had only been five years.

Getting out of bed, Hunter walked over to the dresser. Opening one of the drawers, he pulled out a letter, handwritten in a beautiful calligraphic font that didn’t seem to match the content. The sender had been the town nut for years, and had threatened to harm Hunter’s and Sage’s baby as soon as she was born. Not knowing what else to do, Hunter and Sage had moved back to Millcreek, where, even though the letter’s writer lived there, the town was used to dealing with the psychopath’s antics and violent outbursts.

Sage shifted slightly in bed, noticing the lack of warmth next to her. Yawning, she sat up, looking at the clock on her night stand.

5:30 a.m.

“Morning, Handsome,” she yawned, resting a hand on her stomach. “What are you doing up already?”

Hunter smiled at his wife, “Couldn’t sleep,” Sage pushed the blankets off her legs, standing up and walking over to him. “I’ll make some coffee. You can go take a shower if you like, Love.”

Pecking Hinter on the lips as she passed, Sage grabbed a change of clothes from the dresser, a striped t-shirt, a pair of leggings and one of Hunter’s flannels, before heading into that bathroom. Pausing, she turned around sticking her head out of the doorway.

“Everything will be fine,” Sage glanced down at the letter in her husband’s hand “no one will let anything happen. Not Dad, not Robert, not any of the guys from the mill. We’re safe here, Hunter.”

Hunter smiled at Sage again, heading to the kitchen to make coffee. Neither of the two young adults noticed the pair of dark eyes watching from just behind the tree line, not even Cricket, the now nine-year-old border collie, who was laying in her dog bed in the laundry room noticed.

Had any of them noticed, they would have much preferred the thought of the town crazy watching them over who was actually watching, dark eyes glimmering in delight at the thought of observing his newest obsessions: The Deverieux Family. Chuckling to himself, He looked down at the knife in his hand. “One day, my beauty…one day.” He says as he lovingly strokes the blade of his dagger, pressing the flat of the blade against his scared face.

-fin-

0 notes

kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog · 6 years ago

Text

What Was Once is No More

The beeping of the machines that were keeping her alive continued as Ginny struggled to stay awake. The far off sounding rattle of a gurney reached her ears and she breathed in deeply; shuddering, she drew her last breath, and closed her eyes, the EKG making a single, long, loud beep as she flat-lined. Nurses rushed to her bedside, and began trying to resuscitate her as she coded, their efforts completely in vain. When it was clear, that there was nothing more that could be done, they unplugged her, and called the medical examiner up from the morgue, alerting him to the death of yet another patient in the ICU.

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier: Pleasant View High School

“What could a guy like Phoenix ever see in a girl like you?” Ginny asked herself, seeing her squalid reflection in the warped mirror of Pleasant View high school’s only functioning girls’ bathroom. The sixteen-year-old’s limp red hair forming loose ringlets around her too pale face, as the events of what had happened in the cafeteria only minutes before ran through her mind once again.

Shortly after purchasing her lunch, a sad looking salad and a bottle of water, Ginny found herself on the ground, her lunch covering the front of her cream sweater, and in her hair, her homework and school books strewn across the cafeteria.

“And what do you think you are doing here?” Sage, a girl who Ginny pitied despite all the terrible things she had done to her over the years, questioned indignantly. Not even trying to hide the smirk on her face from when she tripped Ginny. When Ginny didn’t respond, Sage leaned closer, her cronies following her movements closely, watching for any drama that might ensue.

“Answer me when I speak to you, Slut.” Ginny leaned backwards, falling before she could pick herself up enough to crab walk away from the imposing figure looming over her. Once she had put enough immediate distance between herself and her bullies, Ginny scrambled to her feet, turned tail, and ran out of the cafeteria, tears streaming down her face as she sped to the girl’s bathroom to clean herself up. She would have gone to the nurse’s office, except with her mother in Europe for a business meeting, the nurse would only be able to let her lay down for a little bit before sending her back to class. Her only other option was to call her father, someone whom she hadn’t seen sober in at least ten years, and ask him to pick her up; and there was no way she wanted to be stuck with him and whatever cheap whore he had spent the night with.

No, Ginny’s only option was to clean herself up as best she could, get through the remainder of the day with as few injuries as possible, get home, and sleep. She was always tired now; and when she was asleep, her bullies couldn’t get to her, best of all, Phoenix was always there to make her feel better, just as he had when they were children. Her dreams were so different from her reality, where Phoenix had decided that she was no longer worth the effort anymore at the beginning of high school, and had abandoned her to the mercy of people like Sage. A girl who no one wanted to cross, and that everyone bent over backwards to please.

Sage was the epitome of high school evil, and possibly just evil in general. She had, at some point during her sophomore year dyed her hair an obnoxious teal colour, her black hair growing out at the roots by this point in time. She wore black crop-tops that were at least a size too small on her with black skater skirts that had probably belonged to her eleven-year-old sister at some point in time.

She had the reputation of a heartbreaker, and the rumours surrounding her gave her a veil of mystery that she absolutely adored. She was the queen of all the popular people in her school, and played the lead in all the school’s theatrical productions; if she wanted to end you, she could. Either literally or figuratively; so, when little Ginny Hawthorne came along with her best friend Phoenix Blythe sometime last year, Sage decided that Ginny had to go. No one would stand in the way of what Sage Anthony wanted, and what she wanted was the hottest boy in school to ditch his silly little bookworm of a friend with the dopy expression on her face, and go out with her. After all, the two of them would be the couple of the school, and she would stop at absolutely nothing to achieve that goal.

With tears still running down her face, Ginny took a deep breath, balancing against the bathroom sink, damp paper towel in hand as she continued to rub at the stain.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Sage commented with a malicious smirk, surprising the already jumpy girl in front of her.

“W-What do you…what do you want, Sage?” Ginny gasped out, not expecting the older girl to have followed her, a new wave of tears flooding down her face.

“What do you think I want? I want you to leave Phoenix alone. And because you apparently haven’t gotten the message by now, I’ll just have to show you exactly what I’m capable of. I’ve been nice till now.” With that Sage grabbed the pocket knife out of the pocket of her too-tight, black skinny jeans and, smirking, advanced on Ginny.

By the time Sage had finished with her supposed ‘lesson’ Ginny was lying unconscious, in a heap on the bathroom floor. Her already messy hair splayed out across the floor, her arms bleeding from where they had taken hits directed at her face. Her sweater, which had previously only been covered in the remnants of her lunch, now had blood staining various parts of it as well.

Twelve Hours Later

Having been the ones to call emergency services, the girls knew surprisingly little about what had happened. The officers who had fist shown up to interview the group of about four girls that had apparently found the prone form of Ginny in the bathroom were only able to provide the name of the poor girl, and say that she had been bullied by most people in the school at one point in time or another. Precious little information was known, and her mother had been unable to be reached for the last twelve hours.

Two Hours Later: Mount Sinai Hospital

Having come out of surgery successfully, Ginny was expected to make a full recovery from her injuries. She would, in time, need physical therapy and possibly counselling, but should otherwise be fine.

No one came to the hospital to see her after she was cleared for visitors. Something the hospital staff was surprised by. They would have thought that such a sweet girl would have had at least one visitor, but no one come.

Seven Hours Later: At the Bus Stop

“Morning, Phoenix…” Sage yawned, feeling the best she had in years. Had it not been so early in the morning, she might have been smiling. Now that the ridiculous girl who thought she had a chance with Phoenix was out of the picture, he would have no choice but to focus solely on her. Deciding to be flirty, Sage took his hand, giving it a squeeze, before casually deciding to explain what had happened after that prissy book lover had left.

“Morning, Sage. Do you know what happened to Ginny yesterday? I heard there had been some kind of attack, and that she was taken to the hospital in critical condition yesterday.” Phoenix beat her to the topic of conversation she was about to bring up. It was incredible, really, exactly how perfect for each other the were.

“Actually, yes. I do know what happened.” Sage responded coyly, turning Phoenix to face her, and tightening her grip on his hand.

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow at her, at most Phoenix had expected Sage to have heard a rumour or something from one of her dealers, or from one of her smoking buddies, but from the way she phrased it, it sounded almost like Sage had something to do with Ginny’s going to the hospital. And for the love of God, why did she keep tightening her grip on his hand. It seemed like she was determined to cut off circulation to the rest of his arm from how tight her grip was. “So…? Did someone attack her? Did she see something she wasn’t supposed to...?”

“I got rid of that bitch for you. For us.” Sage said with a bright smile of her face, as she pulled him closer, kissing him.

Phoenix was completely shocked. Sure, he knew Sage could be mean, and yes, she made some poor decisions. But was she really being serious? This must have been some sick joke. Any minute, Sage would pull away, and start laughing, saying she was only kidding, and explain what had really happened.

When he didn’t kiss back, Sage pulled away to see the bewildered expression on Phoenix’s face. “What’s wrong, baby? Aren’t you happy? I did this for us. So we could be together, without that sad excuse for a human getting in the way. She had a crush on you. Can you believe that?”

Without waiting for her to finish, Phoenix yanked his hand free from her, and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he needed to get as far from Sage as he possibly could, or he would do something he would regret. Something that Ginny would not be proud of him for doing. But who was he kidding? Exactly what had he done in the last two years that Ginny would be proud of him for? Absolutely nothing. He had abandoned her; he had left her. And for what? So that he could be popular? So that people like Sage, the exact same person who had put his best friend in the hospital, would like him? What a stupid reason for leaving her. Especially since he had been then, and still was now, hopelessly in love with her, for the very same reasons that he had left her.

Three Weeks Later: Rosehill Cemetery

Three weeks had passed since Ginny had died. When her mother had finally been contacted, she was devastated. Her only daughter had been murdered, and all because of some petty girl’s obsession with a boy they had both been close with at very different points in time.

The funeral itself had been quiet, and even Ginny’s father had shown up. He was mostly sober. But now that all of that was over. Phoenix wanted everything to be over. The main reason that Ginny was dead was because he had wanted to be popular. So, he was here to say his final goodbyes to Ginny, before freeing himself from his guilt.

Sage had been arrested, and after she confessed the police had put her in a cell to await sentencing. She was most likely going to receive life in prison.

The next day: North Avenue Bridge

The main story on the local news that day was about a boy who committed suicide as a direct result of the murder of his friend. Not the cheeriest of stories, but give it a month, and Ginny and Phoenix will be all but forgotten.

0 notes

kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Insecure

Stupid. Ugly. Worthless.

With every though the blade slashed against the pale skin of her wrist. The once smooth skin now riddled with scars, both old and new.

Bitch. Fuck-up. Useless.

The thoughts continued, and she continued to run the previously shiny razor over her arm. The sad fact is, she didn’t want to die. Norah knew exactly how far she could go before she was in the danger zone; so-called this by her best friend Adele.

The two girls were polar opposites. Norah was average height, and slightly plus-sized giving her the appearance of being curvy. She had pale skin that made her seem like a ghost, delphinium eyes that appeared lifeless. Her wavy chestnut hair was almost always slightly frizzy and had the self-confidence of a mouse in a room full of cats. Norah wore big tortoise-shell glasses that framed her face nicely, and always wore oversized sweaters year around to hide the scars on her wrists, and skinny jeans. She was shy and quiet. A bit nerdy even, always having her nose stuffed in a book. All-in-all, Norah was a pretty girl, but not someone who most would spare a second thought about.

Adele was Tall, with jet black hair, and big green eyes that did a very poor job of hiding a small spark of mischief. She was curvy in the way that other girls envied, and had a sun-kissed glow to her skin owing to that fact that Adele loved sports. Her makeup was always done perfectly and her clothes fit perfectly, with a good-girl-gone-wild sort of vibe. She was the life of the party, and everyone knew it.

The one thing no one could figure out was why, as one of the most popular girls in school, Adele was friends with Norah. Not even Norah could figure it out, and started to think she was a pity-case for her only friend. This was simply not true.

When the two girls had met, Adele had immediately befriended the shy girl, having been excited to no longer be the only girl in their neighbourhood. Adele’s older brother, Phoenix, had a somewhat different reaction. Being the bad boy of Hudson, QC, Phoenix was used to only having to smirk at a girl to get her attention. Norah, not realizing this since she had just moved to Hudson, simply looked back down at her book and resumed reading, hoping that her blush wasn’t too noticeable.

That was when the trouble really started. Before she and her mother had moved away from Montreal, Norah hadn’t been the most confident in herself; but she certainly hadn’t self-harmed either. When Phoenix hadn’t been able to garner attention from Norah the same way he did the other girls, he had resorted to bullying her. His words hit harder than he had intended, and drove Norah to find some form of release. She had tried writing poetry in her journal the way she had when her parents had been getting a divorce, but that only ended in disaster after Phoenix had snatched the book out of her hands one bleak morning, marched to the front of the classroom they were in for study hall, and started reading all her poems to the entire class.

That was the day that Norah started cutting, and the razor she was now holding over her left, blood-stained wrist became her best friend. That also happened to be the day that Adele permanently changed the shape of her brother’s nose.

When Adele had found out about Norah’s self-harm, she had tried to get her to stop. She had started slowly, by classing how far Norah had gone by ‘Zones’ and had insisted that Norah call her to talk about what had happened after every time. For awhile it had worked, and Norah had stopped cutting. But this time, Phoenix had gone too far. He had told Norah that ‘no-one would ever love her, and that she should go kill herself to save everyone the misery of seeing her at school every day’.

That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

That was why, at this very moment, Norah was going to slide that blade across her wrists one last time.

That was why Norah going to kill herself, despite not really wanting to die.

She had already scribbled out a quick goodbye on a piece of notebook paper, and taped it to the mirror. Closing her eyes, Norah made her final cut, and hoped her death would be quick. Little did she know, her best friend had come to see if she was alright, having heard what had happened from one of her other friends.

When Adele saw the paper taped to the mirror, and her best friend’s body lying in a pool of her own blood, all she could think was that she was going to kill her brother if Norah didn’t survive, and maybe even if she did survive.

Jumping into action, Adele quickly wrapped towels around Norah’s wrists, and prayed that she wasn’t too late, already calling an ambulance. She sighed in relief as she heard the calm, reassuring voice of the operator ask what was wrong.

“M-My best-f-friend,” Adele’s normally calm, and in-control voice wavered as tears flooded down her cheeks. “she just tried to kill herself.”

“Miss, I need you to calm down, panicking is not going to help the situation. What did she do? Are there pills, or a prescription bottle anywhere?” the operator calmly instructed the now panicky Adele.

“No,” Adele answered, taking a deep breath. “she slit her wrists, I already tied towels around them, to slow the bleeding, but there’s a lot of blood.”

“Good, that’s good. I’ve sent an ambulance, but I need you to tell me the address, can you do that?” The operator tried her best to reassure the young girl on the other end of the line, hoping the entire time that the ambulance would get to the girl on time.

"63 H-Hazelwood R-Rue, Hudson, QC.” Adele stated, the tremor in her voice still very much audible.

“Okay, the ambulance is on its way. Now, do you feel a pulse?” The operator calmly gave the next set of instructions.

“Yes,” Adele felt for a pulse in Norah’s neck, “but it’s very faint.” Norah’s chest barely moved as she breathed in and out, her already pale complexation growing paler by the second.

As the Ambulance reached the door of Norah’s home the paramedics rushed through the still open front door, and to the bathroom where they saw a teenage girl, crying over another girl. The female paramedic gently moved the raven-et out of the way, before helping her partner lift the poor girl onto the gurney. Both wondered what had driven such a young and pretty girl to attempt suicide the way she had. As the duo quickly worked to get Norah to the hospital, they herd the quiet sniffling of the other girl, as she timidly asked if she could ride in the back with her.

Not knowing what else to do, the male paramedic said yes, and helped Adele into the back of the ambulance, and had her sit next to her friend as they sped to the hospital.

Everything was blurry, and blindingly bright when Norah opened her eyes. As she slowly grew accustomed to the brightness of the lights above her, Norah took note of the beeping of the machines around her, and the quiet snoring of someone in the chair next to the bed where she was laying.

Closing her eyes again, Norah opened them to see that the girl in the chair, Adele, Norah remembered, had woken up and was looking at Norah, relieved to see that she was awake.

Before Norah could process what was happening, Adele had launched herself at her, and had enfolded Norah in her arms. Norah hesitantly hugged back, not being the hugging type yet understanding perfectly why Adele was hugging her right now, knowing that if she were in Adele’s position, she would be doing the same.

As the two girls separated, Phoenix hesitantly entered the room, to see if his sister wanted a cup of coffee, sporting a black eye, a fat lip, and a brace for his now sprained wrist. All curtesy of his little sister, who could be very scary when she was mad.

Not expecting to see Norah awake, Phoenix breathed in sharply when he saw the girl he was head-over-heels for.

The girl he had bullied for the past three years.

The girl he had driven to attempt suicide.

God, he hated himself so much right now. Why couldn’t he have just asked her out like any sane person would have.

His sudden intake of air, and the slight squeak of the door drew the attention of the two hugging girls. They were both shocked to see him standing there like a moron, but that’s where the similarities of the two girls’ reactions ended.

Norah quickly glanced between the two raven-haired siblings, and then averted her eyes down to her lap. Adele, on the other hand, shot her brother an icy glare as their matching emerald eyes met. Adele’s holding nothing but anger at her older brother, Phoenix’s holding pure remorse as he once again glanced at his little sister’s best friend. The moment was shattered, as Norah’s mother, Erica, rushed into the room, her beige, London Fog rain jacket fluttering behind her slightly as she rushed to her daughter’s bedside.

The second Erica had heard about what had happened to her daughter, she was on her way to the airport. Never mind her meeting with Masayoshi Son. Work could wait, thankfully her boss had understood, and offered to handle the meeting herself, so that Erica could be there for her daughter. Adele and Phoenix both exited the hospital room, and with one last glance back at Norah, Phoenix closed the door behind him. When he turned to face his sister, Phoenix was taken aback by the hatred in her eyes.“What the fuck were you thinking? And be honest this time, because I will hurt you again.” Adele was never one to mince words, and she certainly wasn’t starting now. Yes, she had already beaten her brother up, but she still wanted to know why he had gone so far in the first place. Phoenix stared at his shoes. The old beat up leather of his combat boots seemed so much more interesting to him at that moment. Epically since the only other option he had was to look at his sister, and that was not something he wanted to do.“…because, I love her…but she…she…” He trailed off. There was no excuse for what he had done, and he knew it.“You love her?” Adele asked incredulously. “Well you have a funny way of showing it.” As she walked away, Phoenix finally looked up, “It was never meant to go this far,” he whispered. “I just wanted to get her attention.” Adele shook her head and went to get a cup of coffee. With all that had happened, she could use the caffeine boost. Erica came back out of the room and saw exactly who she was looking for sitting it a chair outside her daughter’s room. Much to her surprise, Erica saw that he was crying with his head in his hands. Her daughter had begged her not to interfere. Apparently, she was ‘in love’ with the boy. And Erica knew that she couldn’t say anything, because when she was in high school, she had fallen for the bad-boy as well. The mother and daughter were so alike that it made the older woman chuckle at the memories of when she was Norah’s age. She looked exactly like her at that age as well. Tapping the young man that changed her daughter in so many ways on the shoulder, Erica cleared her throat.“Norah said she’d like to see you, if that’s alright?” At Erica’s words, Phoenix looked up.“Why would she want to see me?” he croaked out miserably.“Why don’t you go ask her.” Erica replied gently, holding the door to Norah’s room open for him. Phoenix slowly got up, and entered the room. As he walked the few steps to Norah’s bedside, “You wanted to see me?” he asked as he sat down on the end of her hospital bed. Those were perhaps the first non-hostile words he had ever said her. Norah nodded shyly. “I just wanted to know if you meant any of what you had said that day,” Norah slowly looked up and saw the tear tracks on Phoenix’s face from under her eyelashes and hoped that he was okay, despite what he had done to her.“No,” was the choked-up response. “I didn’t mean any of what I said, and I should never have said it to begin with. I was so fucking stupid to say those words, Norah. I don’t hate you, I never have.” More tears began to drip down his face and Phoenix was shocked at the sudden, feather-light touch of Norah wiping them away, a slight smile on her face, her eyes sad.“Then, why did you?” she asked softly, looking back down at her lap.“…because…I love you Norah, I have since I first saw you. And it sounds childish, and stupid, but when you didn’t automatically throw yourself at me like every other girl in school I didn’t know how else to get your attention.” Norah was beyond shocked to hear this. The past three years, Norah had convinced herself that Phoenix hated her, why else would he bully her the way he had, to hear that it was really the exact opposite of that left Norah speechless, and gaping like a fish.“It was never meant to go this far…” the broken whisper of Phoenix, who was again crying, with his head in his hands, brought Norah back to reality just as Phoenix got up and started to leave. Without really thinking, Norah tugged on the sleeve of his flannel. “It’s okay, Phoenix,” his heart jumped when he heard Norah say that. “I really like you too. I might even love you. I just never thought you would feel anything about a girl like me, and I’m really insecure already, so when you started to bully me…” Norah trailed off, but she had already said all she needed to. Hardly acknowledging what had just happened, Phoenix wrapped his arms around Norah’s waist tightly, and kissed the top of her head. When Erica and Adele came back to check on Norah, they were surprised to see both Norah and Phoenix asleep next to each other, Phoenix’s arms wrapped protectively around Norah and her head resting peacefully on his chest. The two women looked at each other, and quietly left, closing the door behind themselves.

fin

0 notes

kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog · 6 years ago

Text

only just a little // jon snow

request(s): Hello! Can you write a Jon Snow X Reader here she was tortured by Ramsey when he took winterfell and when Jon takes it back the reader has this really bad nightmares about Ramsey and Jon is there for her and just a lot of fluff

can u do one where the reader is in love with jon and he loves her and he saves her from someone bad (lol) and they confess that they love each other? thank you💗💗

Hi hi omfg I love your writing and Jon Snow is awesome so here we go :))) For the Jon Snow x Reader requests, could you do one where the reader was Jon’s best friend way beck when he lived in Winterfell but now she is being held captive by Ramsay Bolton (kinda like Sansa was) so Jon comes to rescue her but she’s really badly injured and there’s tonnes of angst but fluff at the end???? Again, love your writing, hope you are having a noice day :)

Can you do a Jon x Reader where you have been kind of a prisonner of Ramsay Bolton and you have a hard time trusting people after that, and Jon is the first to help you out

requested by: @mdgrdians

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 2,181

“You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am.”

His words are spoken with a heavy exhale, displaying how torn Jon truly feels. In the dead of the night, the two of you seemingly the only ones still awake, Jon wonders if this is the right decision. If leaving you is the right decision.

Deep down, he knows it is. It’s the right decision for him, specifically, because he knows that he will never be accepted here in the way he wants. He may have a home, and those who love him, but he’ll never be consider a Stark by certain people, even though he so desperately wishes to be one.

Taking the black will give him purpose. Will give him something to fight for. And, it will give Jon the family, in some ways, that he needs.

But it will mean leaving you.

You look so sad, stood there before him. Your eyes were watering, but you seemed to refuse to let them fall. Keeping a brave face, Jon assumed – for his sake. You curled into yourself, pulling the furs wrapped around your shoulders tighter around yourself to hide your body from the sheer cold of the late nights in Winterfell. Yet, it did nothing to stop the winds from smacking you in the cheeks and turning them a rosy red though.

Jon, despite everything, had never thought you so beautiful as he did in that moment.

“I leave in the morning.”

The words seemed to smack you the same way the wind did. Instead, in the heart. It felt like to opposing ends were taking your heart and playing tug-of-war with it, ripping it half without a care in the world.

Yet, you couldn’t argue. Couldn’t find, not even one, word to argue against Jon’s choice. Sure, you loved him. Sure, his father and his brother Robb, and his younger sister, Arya and his younger brother’s, Rickon and Bran, loved him. And maybe even a small part of Sansa loved her bastard brother as well. But they were not enough to keep him here, and you knew you weren’t either. Jon needed to do this for himself, and as much as it hurt you so, you would not stop from doing so.

You need to sacrifice your own love for him, so that he might find some peace.

“I will say farewells to you now then.”

The words puzzled Jon, and you were quick to elaborate, finally raised your bowed head to meet his eyes. “I will not watch you walk out those gates, Jon,” you explain, the words almost forced, as if they’d become choked up in your throat. “I cannot bare the sight of you walking away from me.”

Jon understood. And as much as it pained him, to say his goodbyes now, he would not argue. For his sake, like you were not arguing for his.

He took a small step forward, and that was all that you needed. In the next second, your arms were bounding around him fast and tightly, pulling him flush against yourself as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Jon eased into the embrace almost instantly, loving the feeling of you so close and in his arms. He knew it was a feeling he would dearly miss.

Then, you leaned back, just slightly, pressing a kiss against his cheek. You moved your lips to his ears, touching them just slightly as you whispered; “I will miss you dearly.”

Jon’s grip on you tightened, even for just a moment, giving you the confirmation you needed that he, would indeed, miss you too. He’d never been great with words, and you seemed to understand him through his actions perfectly. It was one of the reasons why he loved you, even if he’d yet to admit it.

“I hope to see you again one day, Jon Snow.”

The bruises on your body ached to point you felt you could not move. The touch of him still lingered disgustingly across your skin, and no amount of baths could wash the feeling of him away.

You hated that he had this hold of you. That such a man like him could make you feel so powerless, so vulnerable with just a simple look. He controlled you in every aspect through fear, and commanded you in just the same way. You wanted to fight, but found you could not. Your chance at fighting for your dignity and happiness had long been lost, since the moment he first touched you.

Instead, you spent your days wasting away in your room until he visited you at night and defiled you all over again.

And now, with Sansa, his wife, and Theon, his toy, gone and having escaped, all his torment fell upon your shoulders. Relentlessly. You would’ve never wished this kind of torture upon anyone, especially Sansa who’d been like a younger sister to you, but now that it was only you, you’d rather be dead.

Even then, you didn’t have enough courage to kill yourself.

Ramsay was cruel. Beyond cruel. He was tormented, sick, and he seemed to take pleasure in the hell he created for others. When he raped you, he smiled in glee. When he beat you, he laughed in your face. And when he’d torment you mentally, use your own fears against you, he would do as if he truly did love you. It was one of the few times he was gentle, stroking your cheek as he used your own personal hell to his favour.

You had never met a men as sick as Ramsay Bolton.

Today was different though. Usually, when you were not sleeping, there was handmaidens at your side, keeping watch of you. If you left your room, Ramsay would place guards at your side. Today felt absent. Barren. No one was around, and Ramsay hadn’t spoke a word of warning towards you.

Your door was locked though, keeping you on the inside.

So you sat, by yourself, still and alone, on your bed, tracing the bruises that lined your skin and shivering in disgust when your mind poisoned the thought of your touch being his. Defiling you. Using you.

It was quiet. You were alone.

Until suddenly, you were not. In the span of only a second, footsteps ran rapid in what sounded like everywhere. You couldn’t pinpoint an exact position or direction, no matter how hard you tried, and even pressing your ear up against your door did nothing to help you understand what was happening beyond the wooden plank that blocked your view.

Then, a moment later, over all the other footsteps, you heard ones approaching your door. Quick, confident strides and it caused you to gasp out in fright, stumbling back, as far away from the door as possible. You knew who it was. No one else other than Ramsay himself visited you, and you feared what kind of torture he’d inflict upon you this time.

In nothing but a sheer nightdress, you had a inclination of what it would be.

The footsteps stopped, there was a click, signifying the door had been unlocked, and then you saw the doorknob turn. It wasn’t as if this was anything knew. By now, there was a countless amount of times you’ve been defiled and used. Yet, you still found yourself petrified every time it threatened to begin.

The door slid open, light bleeding into the darken room that caused you to remind blind for a few moments. You blink, holding up a hand in front of your eyes to shield yourself from the light, before a figure became clear in front of you.

It wasn’t Ramsay.

It was a man you’d thought, long ago given up on, ever seeing again.

Curled into yourself, probably looking nothing but a shell of your old self in eyes, you stared up at Jon. A man you once knew well beyond belief, but now almost felt like a stranger and a relief.

You could hardly believe your eyes.

Jon took a step towards you, his name leaving your lips in a whisper, but you shuffled back, cowering. Your arms moved faster than your mind, and you fell back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips.

Jon’s hand came up, his palm towards you. “I won’t hurt you.”

His voice sounded the same, albeit deeper. When you took a good look at him, you realized that his face had toned, grown. He looked like his father the way his hair was tied back, and there was blood caked to his skin. It all clicked in that one moment. Why Winterfell had seemed to absent was because there had been a battle, one you hadn’t been informed of, and apparently, Jon had been Ramsay’s enemy.

And it seemed he’d won.

“You remember me, yes?”

How could you forget him?

“Jon,” his name left your lips in a rasped, broken voice. But it was his name all the same. “Jon Snow. I remember you.”

“Y/N,” Jon called, more confident know that he knew you knew who you were. “Ramsay is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise you.”

He can always hurt you, you thought. The man wouldn’t leave your mind.

Jon took another step forward, and his knees hit the edge of the bed. His hand was still held out before him, but he moved it slightly, letting his palm face upward, holding his hand out towards you for you to take.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

You didn’t cry. You wondered if you’d cried all the tears in your body all ready.

But after only a moment of hesitance, you set your hand in Jon’s. The familiar touch was nice, refreshing and warm, opposed to the cold, lingering touched of Ramsay that never left you.

You were in his arms in a second, his support helping you stay on your feet.

Jon held you close as if he was afraid to let you go.

A scream pierced the silence of the dead of the night.

It startled Jon, his body snapping upright, alert with attention. His reflexes and past experiences told him that there was an attack Winterfell, that they were under siege. But after a moment, he realized the scream had come from beside him, piercing his ears as you twisted and turned, kicking your legs out wildly from beneath the sheets.

Once again, Jon snapped into attention, for a different reason all together.

With practiced routine, one of Jon’s hand fell on your shoulder, the other cupping your cheek. He spoke softly, but with purpose as he called for your name to bring you out of your tormented sleep. You fought relentlessly against his grip, your dream having you believe his touch to be of someone else’s.

“Y/N,” Jon called, “it’s Jon. You’re safe. You’re safe. I promise you that you are safe. No harm can come to you here.”

Eventually, your eyes begin to flicker, and your struggling seized. Your tense body eased in Jon’s grip, and your E/C eyes fluttered open to meet his.

Your chest rose and fell with exhaustion, your throat burning from the screams that had pierced through the silence only seconds ago. But when you met Jon’s eyes, and the eyes of Ramsay left your mind, you felt a sense of calm and warmth flood through your entire being as you lay limp in his grip, completely trusting.

Jon’s thumb softly stroked your clammy cheek, your forehead beading with sweat and causing your hair to stick to it.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers, his voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” you pant, shaking your head. “He won’t leave my mind.”

“I know.”

“Every time I close my eyes, Jon, he… he’s there.”

Your voice breaks Jon’s heart.

Months later, after everything, and yet the pain inflicted upon you from that disgusting man would not leave you.

“Sometimes,” you continue, your voice shaky as you meet Jon’s gaze, finding solace within them. “I can still feel his touch. His hand… p-pushing me forwards…”

“Shh,” Jon soothes, brushing away the hair that sticks to your forehead. “He’s not here. He never will touch you again, Y/N. I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand, Jon quickly abiding as you grip onto it tightly.

“We don’t have to sleep,” Jon offers, hoping to calm. “We can just lay here. I can hold you until you feel safe again.”

You sigh, shaking your head; “I don’t want to keep you awake-”

“You’re not keeping me awake,” Jon cuts off gently. “I want to be here, with you, right now, with you in my arms.”

A moment of silence passes, and then, reluctantly, you nod, shifting slightly to fall into his embrace easier. True to his word, Jon just holds you. Neither of you speak, but he keeps you close, reassuring you that no longer can Ramsay touch or hurt or defile you in anyway.

It doesn’t erase the memory of him, but it does ease your racing heart. Even if only a little bit.

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open for jon snow and robb stark!

717 notes · View notes

kimberleeofthewoodfae-blog · 6 years ago

Text

You’re Not Like The Others

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was a slight, breathy, snoring sound, coming from next to him. Closing his eyes again, and then slowly reopening them, Jon managed to turn his head to one side, noticing an unfamiliar girl asleep in the chair next to his bed, and a small wooden dresser with clothes folded neatly on top, and a pitcher of water and a metal goblet. Groaning, he tried to move, only to wince in extreme pain from the trauma his body had just underwent.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jon turned his head back in the direction of the girl. He went to say something, only to realise that his throat was dry and extremely sore, making it nearly impossible to speak. Instead he settled for raising a brow at the girl.

“You haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a few days, you’ll only make yourself feel worse.” That made sense, but shouldn’t he be dead right now? The last thing he remembered was collapsing next to Allister Thorne and several others of his brothers, and massive amounts of pain as he felt the knives rip through his body.

Jon was so lost in thought, that he hadn’t even noticed the girl lifting the goblet from his bedside to his lips, he drank as she tipped the goblet filled with theriac1to his mouth, wiping away the small amount that dripped down his chin, the drink making him drowsy. The last thing he remembered before falling back asleep was the girls muffled voice speaking with the maester, and then quite singing in the old language, a soft lullaby he didn’t quite understand.

***

(Y/N) startled awake again at the sound of her best friend, Sansa, entering the room to check on her brother.

“How is he doing?” she asked, gently moving some of Jon’s hair off of his forehead and turning back to her friend. Weeks after escaping Winterfell with Theon, Sansa had been reunited with her half-brother, soon after, he had almost been killed by several of the people he had previously trusted with his life. not wanting to leave her brother alone in case he woke up while she was gone, she had asked (Y/N), her childhood friend and one of her parent’s wards, to stay with him knowing that it was unlikely for (Y/N) to be forced to leave given her friendship with Sansa as well as her general usefulness to the others at the Wall, given her knowledge of medicine and healing. Her reasons for why she hadn’t been in Winterfell during the Bolton’s takeover or in King’s Landing with Sansa and Arya had to do with her grandmother’s sickness; her father had requested that she return to her family home in Braavos, where she learned to care for the sick as her grandmother’s sickness worsened, and her father died shortly after.

“He seems to be doing okay. He actually woke up for a few minutes earlier, but he was in a lot of pain, and I gave him a dosage of theriac before he could do any further damage,” (Y/N) cautiously glanced up at Sansa, wanting to know if she was upset about not being there to see her brother awake again for the first time in nearly three months.

“That is good, he would have insisted on getting up otherwise,” Sansa turned back to her friend, “I have been asked to meet with Baelish. He said he has some information for me.”

“You want me to stay while you’re gone?” The question wasn’t at all surprising given the circumstances. Sansa trusted (Y/N), and knew she would be able to prevent her brother from panicking if he were to wake up and find out she wasn’t there. Not to mention the familiarity shared between the two from countless hours of playing together in the forest as children, which had begun to develop into something more than a close friendship shortly before Jon had left for The Wall to take the black.

“Would you?” Sansa had a hopeful look on her face, “You said he has woken up once already, if he sees you I think he would be less likely to panic.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) hesitated, “he should be well enough to move around a bit soon.” Sansa paused at the door.

“Good,” she smiled tiredly “that is good.” As she walked down the hallway, (Y/N) could just about hear choaked sobs coming from her direction, but she couldn’t be sure if it was Sansa or if it was someone else.

***

The Next time Jon woke up, when he didn’t see the girl from before, he half expected her to have been a dream, or for her to have been Sansa reimagined in his delirium as (Y/N). So, when she opened the door to his chambers, with a bowl of stew, and a cup of hot mulled wine, he was shocked to say the least. It took him few minutes to register that she had sat back down in the chair next to his bed that she had been sleeping in earlier, and an even longer time to realise that she had asked him a question, her light Northern burr making him panic slightly and wonder where, exactly, he was. There were, after all, no women allowed at The Wall.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, this time gently setting a pale hand on his, causing him to flush slightly.

“Where am I?” Jon asked, his own accent think in his throat, as he focused on getting the words out.

“You’re in the North,” she smiled, and looked at him like he should have realised that by now.

“No. Wheream I,” he didn’t know how else to ask what part of the North he was in, or where his sister was, or if she was who he thought she was, or if there was someone he could talk to that knew what had happened, because, Gods, was it difficult for him to think clearly right now.

“You’re at The Wall,” she replied, soothingly, realising that it was probably difficult for him to remember what he had gone through, given the state of mild panic he appeared to be in.

“Y-you know what happened?” his memories of what happened, though fuzzy, had definitely not included his father’s pretty ward.

She laughed lightly before responding to the tell-all expression on his face, “Your sister told me what happened. How much do you remember?”

“Where is Sansa,” Jon asked rubbing his throat as he slowly processed what the girl had said, completely disregarding her question.

“She’s meeting with a,” she paused, “a…friend right now, apparently he had some information he thought she might want,” realising that she was the only one in the room with him, and that he hadn’t seen her since she was a young girl of fourteen, when he left for the Night’s Watch; Jon looked her over once again, she had changed quite a bit.

She had become much curvier, and had grown several inches bringing her to about where his chin would be, had he been standing. She was wearing a maroon gown and grey furs, a gift from Lord and Lady Stark on her last namesday that they had all spent together. Trailing his eyes farther down, he noticed that she was wearing brown boots that had some kind of soft material folded down over their tops. Her (hair colour) hair was pulled back with three thin plaits across the front of her hair meeting another, thicker plait in the back where they connected in a knot, and continued, joining the rest of her hair falling down her back, with wisps coming out and framing her face, her large (eye colour) eyes standing out on her pale face.

“Are you okay, Jon?” she asked again, dragging him from his thoughts once more. He flushed red again, before stammering out a reply.

“Y-yes?” it sounded more like a question. Within seconds, (Y/N) had reminded him of his feelings for her from before he left for the wall, and before Ygritte. She’d always had him wrapped around her little finger as children, and now was no exception.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” she smiled sweetly, sending a sudden shockwave of butterflies through his system once again.

“I am too,” He swallowed quickly, and smiled as much as he could manage “or I’d never have gotten to see you again.”

***

After the Battle of the Bastards, before Jon goes to Dragonstone

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” (Y/N) continued to gently scold Jon as she cleaned up the cuts on his face from a fight he had gotten into with her older brother.

“I don’t know, I guess I just…” Jon trailed off, wincing as (Y/N) pressed a cloth against his lip to stop the bleeding, and smearing a fowl smelling paste over the cut before moving on to wrap his wrist, which had caught the brunt of his weight when had tripped over his own feet, and fallen, shortly before Bandar had helped him up and to her chambers so she could assist with his injuries.

“Well try to explain anyway,” pausing and looking up to meet Jon’s grey eyes, (Y/N) sighed, and continued with the task at hand.

Jon hesitated, before finally deciding it was best to simply say it “I guess,” he took a deep breath “I guess I love you. I thought you might be betrothed to Bandar, and I wanted to know.”

“I see,” (Y/N) continued cleaning a cut on his eyebrow she had missed earlier, “you do realise Bandar is my brother, don’t you?”

Jon blushed, “I do now,” swallowing, Jon brought a hand to (Y/N)’s cheek, “and I feel like a fool for not having realised earlier.”

(Y/N) smiled indulgently at the young king. “You have no reason to feel like a fool,” setting the cloth down into a bowl of clean water, (Y/N) pressed her hand against Jon’s, stroking his bruised knuckles softly with her thumb, “you’ve never even met my brother before,” she paused, “besides, Bandar didn’t have to fight back quite so hard as he did.”

Leaning closer, Jon placed his other hand on the small of (Y/N)’s back, pulling her closer to him, and resting his forehead against her own. Breaths mingling, Jon leaned in even more, pressing his lips against hers.

Softly, bringing her arms around his neck, (Y/N) kisses back. Feelings ignored and repressed for years, being poured out. Pulling away slightly, Jon breathes through his nose sharply, realising what he’s done.

“Would you ever be with a bastard like me?” The question surprises (Y/N), and yet, she manages a small smile.

“If you would have me, Your Grace,” the sudden use of his new title a sharp reminder to the both of them that Jon is more than just a bastard son of a nobleman now, “then I would be honoured.”

The couple shares a last kiss before pulling away. As (Y/N) busily sets about putting away the supplies used to clean Jon’s injuries, he pulls on his shirt and furs, “You aren’t like the others, (Y/N),”

she pauses, mid-step. “What do you mean, Jon?” he smiles softly at her doe-eyed look.

“You’ve never let anyone else’s opinion of themselves or of others change what you thought. You’ll make a good queen when we marry.”

Blushing, (Y/N) continues with her task, carefully placing the pitcher back in the centre of the bowl on her vanity, sitting next to Jon on her bed once she’s finished picking up her mess.

Leaning her head against his un-injured shoulder, she whispers a soft thank you, and closes her eyes, savouring the moment.

[1] A mixture of wine and opium as well as pepper and rose water used as a sedative in the medieval period. (I don’t know if this would actually have been used within GoT, but it’s appropriate for the time period, and I needed something. I also didn’t want to use Milk of Poppy, since that seemed like it would have put Jon into more of a stupor once he woke up, rather than letting him regain full consciousness. If you like, you can always imagine that he had been given Milk of Poppy earlier, since I messed with that timeline a bit for the sake of this fic, but that’s up to you.)

A/N: I do not own Game of Thrones, or any potentially associated franchises, I’m writing this purely for my own entertainment, and because I really like the characters. I do, however, own the plot of this fic, and if you’d like to borrow it, or post this story anywhere else, please let me know ahead of time, and please give me credit for what I did write.

#GoT #JonSnowXReader #GameofThrones #xreader #jon snow #imagines #jon snow imagine #got imagine #got imagines #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones

2 notes · View notes