#god i am not good at tagging ive completely forgotten how to do this

[adversarialaccountant]

Comic about realizing after you graduate that you maybe stunted your own creative growth by not realizing sooner that you probably should have just taken a creative writing minor 4 funsies

[evandearest]

The Garden of Eden | Part IV: Betrayal

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (4/4)~

Summary (Part Four): Warnings are to be remembered, although most stored away for future use only to be forgotten. Cycles repeat to teach lessons; to warn of future events. Threats may remain even if not for the blind eye to see. However, ignorance might be the biggest threat of all.

Warnings (in this part): murder, blood, death, poison, religious twists, dark themes

Word Count: 5,018 (haha this part ended up with the most words... to end it off I suppose!)

Notes: This is the last part of the Garden of Eden! I just want to say thank you to all who read - especially @etoile-writings , for supporting me. Please go check out her series Adam and Eve, as it is a literary masterpiece and she deserves so much recognition.

I have seriously had so much fun writing this - it really has been my pleasure. I also want to apologize to all those who may have been waiting for awhile for the final part! Disclaimer: I tried my best to edit the grammar and everything in this but this is the best I could do! I hope there’s not many mistakes I may have missed. Please ask any questions and give me all your comments about this finale - I’d love to hear any and all thoughts! I also hope everyone is safe, healthy, and happy :) Feel free to send in other requests, whether it be AHS or Supernatural.

Also a heads up - keep a look out for the final review and analysis if you are interested. It is still in progress but it should be out within a couple of days at best.

A few side notes - the Countess and James are still legally married here, as they are in the show, but in this situation it is only because they haven’t gotten the chance to divorce. This part may seem to have very long sentences, but I just wanted to let you guys know that it is a writing technique that I used to create mood, tone, and theme. That’s all, thanks!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

Something about the young couple in the bar had your mind reeling. Their hands remained interlocked on the table, both of them staring at one another with all the joy and adoration that only true love can bring. Their relationship was new and exciting. The honeymoon phase was always so perfect. You remembered how that had felt with James; so invigoratingly energizing. It was enough to make you feel as if you ruled the world; love blinding a vision of truth. It was, for many years, what you had considered paradise to be.

Paradise.

You realized now that it never had been perfect with you and James. There were so many things standing in the way, so many hidden threats. When you were younger, it had been your parents and their obsessive need to marry you off like an object to a rich man. Even as he had began his journey to success, James’ social status as new money hadn’t seemed good enough to them. When you had first gotten back with James only just around a month ago, you had thought that you’d conquered everything. You had been blind to the truth which was right in front of you once again. You should have expected some kind of change in James. It was inevitable, after all that time spent apart.

But now, however, right at this present moment... well, now, everything was out in the open. Now, you and James truly understood one another. Now there really was nothing in your way. You could see no obstacles ahead, no threat, so long as James was by your side. All you saw was James, and all that clouded your mind was your admiration and devotion to him. He was your everything; your soulmate, your leader, your God. He had dragged you from the fire and brought your paradise back to you; good, true, and everlasting this time around. Your precious Garden of Eden, controlled by none other but you and your God.

Your God; who had been the utmost of clever in his recent schemes. He’d been outraged when he did it, but it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t brilliant. He was of excellent prosecution; his statement out in the open and clear. A Sunday morning: police finding piles of dead bodies compiled with numerous copies of nothing other than the book of God himself. It was sadistic and morbid, but it was perfect. It was everything that James needed to say. He was on the verge of something momentously renowned.

Once James was finished, no one would ever forget his message: religion was the worst thing to happen to society. It controlled the will of man, when truly nothing in creation could stop anything. Everyone was put equal on the Earth to sin, to live in the most pleasurable way.

It was the entire reason Adam and Eve had been cast down. They were sinners, except the garden was a place controlled by God’s rules. They had wanted to control their own lives, so God banished them to Earth. James, however, had created his own paradise; his own Garden of Eden. He had climbed so far above all other men that he now controlled the garden. He had to prove to others the ridiculousness of holiness--for all were meant to sin. Religion was, essentially, suppression. To some, it may seem horrible, but to you, it was art. A simple expression of belief that most didn’t understand.

Voices floated into your ears, startling you out of your thoughts. Soft echoes through the lobby of your beloved’s name piqued your interest, your feet immediately carrying you to the railing without much thought. You left your drink on the bar’s counter--still full, but long forgotten. Your eyes landed on four men clad in black suits, shiny gold badges on their shoulders reflecting light from the chandeliers above. You scanned the area, noticing a certain maid standing close by, listening in, much like you were.

“We have suspicion based upon evidence that Mr. March was involved in the murder this past Sunday. We have already taken the time to get a warrant for his arrest,” one of the officers explained to the receptionist at the front desk. Time seemed to take a standstill, your heart seeming to stop completely as your brain registered the man’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening.

The cycle was repeating again. They were trying to tear you apart again.

You didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. He said he was careful, and you could never see James making a mistake with something this important. He was detail-oriented, his brain practically ran off of the certainty of perfectionism. He would never let a small mistake ruin everything for him.

The entire empire he’d built, and everything you’d rebuilt, was about to be destroyed all over again.

Your body seemed to catch up with your mind as you sprung into action. You twisted around, your feet pushing you forward only to come to a halt at the close proximity of the once unknown presence behind you. Your eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping your lips at the stop you made compared to your sudden momentum. You stared into the eyes of none other than The Countess, clad in only the most extravagant clothing and makeup.

“That’ll be a hard one to get out of,” she said, although her face was seemingly expressionless. You stared at her, your frenzied brain jumping to the first conclusion you could make.

“Did you...” you trailed off, your breathing suddenly heavy. James couldn’t have made the mistake, so that means that somebody else had to of given the police some kind of tip in order for them to seek James out. The woman standing before you was quite possibly the number one suspect. “Did you do this?” Your voice held tones of disbelief and anger.

Would Elizabeth really go to such extent when she hadn’t even expressed a major disliking? She hadn’t talked to you at all since that first time, in fact the only interactions you’d had with one another were passing glances. She’d seemed to have just steered clear of anything to do with you or James. You had no idea what she had thought, but you had supposed that she didn’t care about you and James, otherwise she would have spoke her concerns. Had you been wrong about her? Could a simple mistake end it all over again? Elizabeth scoffed, her face hardening.

“Oh God no...” she said wryly, a small sarcastic grin forming on her lips as she looked at you quizzically, “what would I get out of it now? As I am still his present wife, I don’t need James dead to use his money. And besides, now that he has you he no longer bothers me.” She was smug as she spoke to you. She grinned, all teeth and mischief, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a winning situation for the both of us if you ask me.” She paused, her grin falling slightly as her gaze wondered off to peer down into the lobby.

“I could bet I know who the rat is, though,” She said, turning back to you. “I’m wagering it’s his loyal minion. That poor woman has been in love with James since the beginning of time.” She paused, her eyes intense as they rested on your face. “And based on your expression you think so too.” She smiled at you and then turned, walking slowly away from you. “Good luck,” she called back to you without turning around, your eyes watching her back as she went.

You stood contemplating her words for a moment. Elizabeth was smart and straightforward, and from what you could tell if she had a problem she would speak her mind. And what she had said made sense. Miss Evers was in love with James, but her love was unrequited, and that’s why she constantly seemed at odds with you. She could never even have a chance to be with him, so long as you were around.

Your feet carried you quickly as you raced to the elevator. The police were still conversing with the receptionist, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out where James was. You recalled a conversation you’d had with him in the morning, concluding that he had to be caught up attending to his hobby.

The police would find him in his office, in the middle of his business, and it would all be over. He would be taken from you once again.

You didn’t even knock upon arriving; you opened the door and closed it quickly behind you. You turned to face James, in all his blood-covered, god-like glory. You took in the scene of James’ office quickly, your eyes tracing over every detail. A large bin sat in the center of the room, a rugged corpse contained within it. James had been busying himself with pouring a substance over the body, of which could only be acid, as it had sizzled upon impact with the dead man’s skin. At your arrival, James halted his methods in confusion.

Several items were scattered across the floor, one of which catching your interest. The glass of the vase; a damp spot surrounding the area where the unaltered mess remained. The roses remained too, the petals wilting from lack of nourishment. You paused, your mind trying to puzzle out their unmoved position. Miss Evers had to have been in here since last night, so why wouldn’t she move them? She might have been scheming, but she was extremely adamant on being neat when it came to James’ specific rooms. You couldn’t see her ignoring it, and yet here it was sitting puzzlingly. You were caught off guard for a reason not entirely known to you. Something about their appearance had you alarmed, a string of words suddenly ringing out in your head; perhaps a memory brought to the surface.

“If you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.”

The old woman was suddenly prevalent in your mind, her warning dawning upon you, your heartbeat stuttering at the looming echo of her words. James was waiting for you to explain yourself--the police were coming--Miss Evers had betrayed you--everything you and James had worked so hard for was crumbling down around you. Your heartbeat was fast, the pulse beating quickly, perhaps the reason for the pounding in your head.

You looked James in the eyes, studying his features. He was so handsome--even before you knew him, that day in the garden when you had first seen him--you had marveled at his beauty. And that was before he’d become such a man; his features sharp and masculine, beautifully sculpted by the gods. His dark brown eyes and hair, so dull yet so prominent--a symbol of his darkness. You could stare at him for eternity and never bore, your love for him everlasting.

And yet, here you were at the end with no escape, hell a threat once again hanging above your heads, looming just around the corner. Just a few more minutes and everything would be over. Just a few more minutes and you’d be lost again, stranded without your guide; your purpose--your God.

“James,” you gasped, stumbling slightly as you made your way to him. You’d just managed to get to him before you fell over slightly, your arms reaching out to grasp onto his tightly. He caught you, keeping you level as his face filled with concern. The pounding in your head was intense, beginning to drown out your thoughts and quicken your breath.

“Darling, tell me--what is it?” James demanded, his voice panic-stricken. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, his widened orbs meeting yours with intensity.

“I-it’s--the- the police,” you barely managed to get the words out, clinging onto James like he was your lifeline. Nothing seemed right; your thoughts suddenly taking too long to form into words, your breathing heavy, vision blurry, and it was becoming much harder to stand. What was happening? You stared into James eyes, shifting all your focus into him. “They’re here to arrest you.” One hand gripped his arm firmly as you brought the other to rest upon his cheekbone, leaning chest to chest as your body began to collapse into him. He held you steady, forever the one and only thing to truly support you. “They’re going to take you from me,” you sobbed, an onslaught of tears overcoming you. “Again,” you cried quietly, gasping for air.

The door opened, your heart skipping a beat at the intrusion, your mind going straight to the thought of the police. Your eyes landed on Miss Evers instead, confusion settling on you once again. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Why was she here now, to prove something? You wished you had the strength to question her, to say anything, but everything felt heavier and heavier as more time passed.

“Tell me,” James barked at her just as she’d closed and locked the door, “what in all creation is happening? Speak right this instant, and quickly.”

“The police are here,” Miss Evers explained, James grip on you tightening as you leaned onto him for support. He glanced down at you, worry glinting in his eyes as you just barely managed to look up at him.

“Darling,” he whispered, “what is happening? Are you ill?” A moment of silence passed as you tried to respond, your mouth opening but no words becoming audible. A moment of silence passed, the only action being James assessing you. Your words couldn’t seem to form, a burning spreading through your entire body. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You began to wonder yourself if you were somehow ill.

“It was supposed to be me!”

The maid across the room suddenly shrieked, desperation clouding her judgement as she flung her arms up in the air. “I was the one for you!” She sobbed, stumbling slightly as an expression of hurt formed upon her face. “I always loved you, and these women--they never did! They used you, and I always cared!” James eyes widened, shock coming across his features. He stared at the woman, contemplating her words.

“But you never saw,” the woman said sadly, her head hanging in shame before her face went emotionless. “And so I did the only thing I could.” She looked at him, dead in the eye, a type of malice suddenly overcoming her. “You’d be surprised how easy it was.” Her eyes settled upon your frame, your head moving slowly to get a glance at her. You stared, blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out. You could barely comprehend what she was saying, but you felt as James’ breath quickened. It was taking all of your willpower to stay awake--you needed to, for James.

“What?” he stated, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, a rage within his eyes even you had never seen before as he stared at her. He was tense, as hard as a rock, glaring daggers at the woman who had seemingly betrayed him.

“I--,” Miss Evers hesitated, obviously intimidated by his fury, but decided to continue. “I’ve found that you have a secret stash of cyanide in the bar.” She faltered once again, her eyes shifting away from James and to the floor. “I wanted us to be together, and she-” she pointed at you, “-she was always in it for the money! They all are, all but me!” She burst into tears, falling onto her knees in hysterics. Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain to gather all of the information. She poisoned you at the bar. You remembered brief flashbacks of the one tiny sip you’d taken of your previously forgotten drink.

James seemed to be shaking as he gently moved you to sit in a chair by the wall, turning away from you for only a moment. Your eyelids began to flutter as sleep beckoned you, visions of James’ movement around the room the only thing to hold your focus. A loud pop suddenly reverberated off of the walls as it rang out, causing you to sit up slightly from your slouched posture, your eyelids flying open to search for the source. James stood over the body of his betrayer, smoking gun resting within his palm.

You felt so weak, your thoughts jumbled, unable to focus on only one. Only now you knew it wasn’t just an overreaction. You’d only taken a mere sip of the drink from the bar, but you supposed now that it had been enough for the poison to go into effect. You wondered briefly how she’d gotten the cyanide into the drink in the first place, and exactly how much she had put in for it to have such a potent effect on your body.

Your eyes traveled to her corpse, and to the fresh blood splattered across the wall from the headshot. You blinked, barely registering what had just occurred before you. You were too dazed to process the incident, even if you understood what had occurred subconsciously. Relief was the only thing you felt; relief for one less thing to worry about standing between you and James.

Eyes shifting slightly to the left, you stared at the browning roses, the sweet old lady’s warning once again echoing, a distant memory brought to the surface of your mind. James crouched in front of you, suddenly the only thing in line of sight, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear his voice over your own in your head. The roses were dead. You left them on the floor. You betrayed them for--

You sprung up once again as a loud banging at the door shocked you back into your senses. James glanced briefly at the door before turning back to you quickly. He pulled you out of the chair, holding you up and close to his chest as he stroked your hair tenderly.

“James,” you just barely whispered as he shushed you.

“I know, darling,” He said reassuringly, pulling back to look into your eyes. “It’s all going to be okay, dear. It’ll all be over before you know it.” He smiled charmingly as you nodded weakly, holding tightly onto the cloth of his shirt to maintain stability. And you believed him in that moment, as he always seemed to find a way.

One way, or another.

You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as the pounding on the door increased. Or maybe it was the pounding in your head; at this point you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination. Cold metal pressed against the skin of your temple, your brain too bleary to question it. Mere seconds passed as you contemplated moving, but suddenly it was as if everything had settled away. James’ warm body faded from your grasp.

-🤍-

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyeballs moving back and forth as you tried to become familiar with your surroundings. You recognized the familiar room immediately, for it was your bedroom when you had first moved into the Cortez. You felt strange. Zen, almost, but maybe that was just because the pounding was gone. You felt... disconnected. It was the most out of touch with yourself you’d ever felt.

You climbed to your feet from the floor, thoughts running rampant at what was unknown to you. Where was James, how did you get here, how long had you been here, and why did you feel so cold? Flashes of what seemed to be both years ago and only moments ago clouded your mind, filling you with dread. Scenarios of what could be frightened you and sent you into a state of panic, pushing you forward.

Out of the room you went, through the quiet and empty halls, searching, searching, searching--no fixed destination ahead except something, anything, that could lead you to your James.

It seemed that days had passed before you finally found the lobby of the hotel. Navigation through the building was proving to be much more difficult than you remembered. Why was it taking so long?

The lobby was sparsely populated, unlike the usually crowded area that you were used to. You glanced around, noticing only a few people in the bar, the receptionist, and someone asleep on the sofas. Your feet carried you to the hotel entrance, pushing the first door open, the sunlight peeking through the opaque glass surprising you. If it was the daytime, then why was the hotel so empty? On ordinary occasions people came and went like flies; the Cortez was a hotspot in the city of Los Angeles, after all. Your hands reached out to push open the door to the outside, the metal handle of the door cool against your skin, and then suddenly nothing. In front of you was the door no longer; profound confusion coursing through you as you stared at the walls of your bedroom once again. You had been there one second, and in the next it was as if you had been teleported back in time.

And so the cycle repeated for what seemed like years; many times set adrift through the halls, eventually to the lobby where the sunlight no longer shone through the windows and unusually few people inhabited. You were reaching forward for the handle of the first door for what seemed to be the hundredth time, only to freeze at the call of your name from a familiar voice.

“Y/N.”

Your name sounded of honey dripping off his tongue. It was like hearing that voice for the first time again. All your worries deflated and anxieties subsided--for you had found your God once again. You turned to face him, to see his face--the face you had longed to see for what felt like years but may have been minutes. You still didn’t entirely understand the detachment from your body you felt; it was as if you no longer had a life source, no blood running course or lungs cycling air. You felt out of place and trapped at the same time.

Just as your hopes had soared, they plummeted at the sight of the bare lobby. Emptiness sat instead where you had expected James to be, crushing all sense of direction. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the hotel to shreds with your bare hands. But just before you gave up all hope completely, your eyes caught on the tiniest of details.

Barely noticeable, unless payed close attention to; unless already a prominent object in one’s mind. Small, dainty, white petals lay scattered in high correlation, leading on to an unknown but obviously specific destination. You treaded lightly as you followed the path closely, afraid any disturbance would somehow make them disappear.

Unease settled through you, possibly just a usual feeling as of late, but considerably appropriate when meeting the isolate hallways once again. You began questioning your sanity; was this just yet another repeat in the cycle? You’d been lost for so long, was this just another loop? What was the energy here, and why did it not feel like you and James’ beloved Cortez, the place you called home? You felt like you were stuck in a punishment of some kind; a purgatory; a hell.

And at last, you arrived; the room in which this cycle had began, or ended. The office of James Patrick March: Room sixty-four. You paused, contemplating, before making a bold decision and gripping the handle, opening the door and entering the room. There you stood in what was once James’ office, now empty of most furniture, only few items remaining. And there it remained: the vase on the table in the center of the room, petals leading straight to their source.

Inside sat the very white roses themselves, southern California glory and all. They looked just like the ones in that very first garden: huge, bright and beaming, petals spread with all the beauty and radiance of nature and purity. And just behind them stood their God; the master of the garden who held the utmost control in his realm. Your God, who’d saved you from hell; who’d broke all cycles.

The feeling you felt at sight of James did not fail to excite you just the same as it had on that first day years ago. Something about his presence next to yours soothed you, for you knew that he was still there, that he hadn’t been taken from you, that no matter what had happened you were still okay so long as he stood next to you.

You rushed forward and into him, basking in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, but the challenge once again presented itself: an unignorably apparent absence of warmth. It’d been just before you’d first woken up what seemed like years, or maybe just hours ago, that you’d been in his embrace just the same, his warmth seeping into you and igniting your soul as you had faded in and out of consciousness. But now, you couldn’t feel it. You felt his body wrapped around yours, but nothing inflaming, the detachment from your own warmth just the same. It was missing, a shell of a comfort that used to always be present; something you had gotten entirely used to, for to be absent of warmth was to be dead...

You gasped, pulling away from James to look him in the eyes, the reality setting in and the drunkenness fading away. Your mind was becoming clear, all clarity suddenly bestowed upon you.

“James, are we...” you froze in panic, for it felt as if you didn’t have lungs, the normal rise and fall of the simplicity of breathing gone... the feelings of life were all gone...

And it clicked.

“James,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the details of the room. The blood stains on the floor and walls were the only evidence of foul play left. You felt strange, for people didn’t normally expect to see the place of their death after the fact. Realizations settled over you as you stared at the room, just as you had initially when entering to warn James of the police, the truth of the events that had happened finally dawning upon you. In your poison-induced state of mind, it’d been hard to realize. You had been dying, the poison slowly but surely shutting your body down. You’d barely processed it when James had held the gun to your head and pulled the trigger, ending your pain.

“Yes, darling?” James replied to you, bringing you back to your conversation. You stared at him longingly. Although you didn’t entirely understand why you were still here, or the concept of the afterlife, you were glad to have James next to you. A moment of silence passed as you tried to pinpoint what you wanted to ask him exactly.

“I have so many questions,” you said, deciding to just speak your mind. You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking rapidly as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I-I’m so lost, James.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” James said reassuringly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. He stared at you sadly. “I’m terribly sorry for all that happened, you must feel perplexed beyond understanding my dear.” He paused, his eyes traveling over your features as you stared up at him, listening intently. “This was simply my only choice, darling. You were succumbing to the poison’s grip long before I finished your pain. Miss Evers...” He trailed off, his jaw clenching tightly. “Nevermind that. I came to a conclusion upon the authorities’ arrival, and that was that if I was damned to be put away I might as well flee with you, my queen... it was the only right option.” He smiled down at you softly.

You smiled right back at him, your love for him the only warmth left inside of you now that you no longer had your body to call home. You basked in the feeling of being close to him as he pulled you to his chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss against your scalp. Even if you didn’t feel warmth, simply the love you had for him was enough. He tenderly stroked your back, calming your nerves. It amazed you how he could ease your mind so easily, if only just a little. However, you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. Sure, you could just let it all go, but the truth of the matter was simple.

Your entire life had been a cycle. A cycle of undeniable foolishness; you’d been ignorant of the truth for all of your living years. Oh, how it angered you. You hated something truly for what seemed like the first time in your life. You hated yourself; you’d let yourself believe false truths just to live in an illusion that you thought was happiness. You were naïve. And ultimately, that was what had ended you.

You’d ignored all warnings and left the roses to wilt, betraying the one thing that had always been on your side. You’d ignored all threats and committed yourself to making paradise in the land of the evil; it was simply impossible. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a place for the living. It was a place of freedom, and so long as you’re living, you can never truly be free. For in life, one threat always remains: death. You could never truly be protected. You could never truly have paradise.

But with James, in the Cortez, in the paradise he’d created for you... even death didn’t stand a chance. It was a gateway to greatness; a place where nothing truly stood in your way, where no threats were great enough. You couldn’t be harmed, or imprisoned, or separated here; you were finally utterly invincible; real Gods. Hell and Earth were no longer a threat. It was your true paradise that James had promised you.

Your Garden of Eden.

---------

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

[sinner-as-saint]

Home With You

Mob! Seb AU

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

 Part 8.

 Run-through: After having gone through hell, the mob boss finally finds his solace.

 Themes: angst, fluff, mentions of death, smut, mentions of violence, gore scenes and death

 ALL TAG LISTS ARE OPEN. 

A/N: Here we go, one last time…

  He was numb, and regretted with all his heart that he wasn’t here when you woke up. 

 Sebastian didn’t know how to react to the fact that you sat on the bed, surrounded by doctors, with a faint smile on your face as they filled you in with what happened to you and your recovery from here on.

 He felt every emotion at the same time, like a giant wave crashing down upon him. He was relieved, yet scared. He felt as though the entire world around him had come to a halt, and the only thing he could focus on was the little nod you gave the doctors as they congratulated you on waking up and fighting through it all.

They were saying something along the lines of it being a miracle and Sebastian could barely hear them.

Within a few seconds, you spotted him by the door, and your smile magnified. The doctors turned to him as well, and they had reassuring smiles on their faces.

There were three of them, two of who walked out as soon as he walked in. The one who stayed, along with the nurse, was checking the monitors and writing down stuff.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. One second he was by the door, and the next he was approaching you; cautiously.

He was afraid that this was another one of his torturous dreams, and that he would wake up and find that you were still lying on the bed – unmoving.

Only, it wasn’t.

 You extended your weak arm towards him and he reluctantly took it. Once he held your hand, he could no longer stop the tears.

They flowed uncontrollably and silently down his face.

 He tightened his grip around your knuckles, as if testing if you were real or just a fragment of his imagination.

And he soon found out that you were very real.

 He stared at your face, and your bright smile and he couldn’t believe his eyes. After so many days, you had finally woken up. You were here, with him. You didn’t leave him like everyone said you most likely would.

Without saying a word, he sat on the edge of the bed. Just like he normally would, the only difference was that now; you were awake.

 He watched how your other hand, which still had the IV attached to it, reached out and gently wiped away his tears.

Your hand wasn’t cold anymore. And he leaned into your touch and thanked God quietly as he felt the warmth of your hand against his face.

You gently cradled his face in your hand as you inched closer to him.

 “You badly need a trim,” you whispered, chuckling faintly as you ran your fingers through his now long hair. Despite your head still being a little foggy, you could tell that he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

 He closed his eyes and allowed his tears to fall. The mob boss didn’t care who saw him crying, you were back now, and that’s all he cared about.

 He sniffled and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles and thanking God countless times.

 “You were gone for three weeks, and that’s the first thing you tell me when you wake up?” he asked, fresh tears forming along his water line.

His eyes were red, caused by the many sleepless nights he had spent alongside you – worrying about your well-being.

His ocean blue eyes looked into yours, and all your pain was forgotten.

 You leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, his beard tickled your skin as you did. He sighed and closed his eyes again.

“There’s so much I need to tell you. So much happened, while you weren’t here, and I-,”

You cut him off.

 “I was here, Seb. I heard you, every day. I heard everything you told me. About Chris, and Connor and… Liana. I know you got me flowers all the time, and told me that I was rude and that I should at least say ‘thank you’. I’m sorry, I couldn’t say it then, but I really liked it. I’m sure the flowers were pretty,”

He chuckled while you spoke, softly.

 “I heard you as you complained about your work, and I even heard you snoring at night. I heard everything, Seb. I- I just couldn’t find my way back to you. I wanna go home now, with you,” you placed your head on his broad shoulder and he inched closer to circle his arms around you carefully.

You spoke slower than usual.

His ran his hand up and down your back lazily.

 “Don’t ever leave me again, promise me,” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

 “I won’t. I promise,” you whispered in the crook of his neck. The warmth of your breath ignited a spark inside him, and he was happier than ever.

 When he felt you tightening your grip around his torso, his world suddenly seemed brighter. He felt as though he had been trapped in a dark room all this time, and now, out of nowhere someone flipped the switch and granted him the light he needed, and craved so much.

With you awake, responsive and so alive in his arms; the mob boss felt stronger. He felt complete. You were here now, everything made much more sense.

 ---

 The doctors suggested that you spend a couple more days, under observation, at the hospital. You were weak, and your body was stiff and you needed to get over the shock before they could allow you to go home.

For the following 3-4 days, Sebastian was the happiest he had ever been. His girl was back, and he gets to bring her home after so many days.

 He had people clean the house, made sure everything was in order. He indeed got the trim he so badly needed, then proceeded to come and show you his new hair. It was still longer than before, but it suited him. A lot actually.

You laughed and asked him to do a spin and show it off better. He, very grumpily, did. And made you swear not to ever mention it again, to anyone – not even Chris.

  ---

 By the third day, you were feeling much better. Sebastian helped you walk around; to get you used to moving your limbs which had been resting still for so many days.

And he was extremely not cooperative when the nurses told him that he wasn’t allowed to be in room while they gave you a sponge bath.

You had to suppress your laughter while you watched a grown man in a dark suit argue with two middle aged woman about how he should be allowed to make sure ‘everything was okay’ and how he should not have to leave the room because you were girlfriend.

 After he reluctantly left, the women told you that you were very lucky that he loved you that much. You smiled and told them you were very grateful for having him in your life.  

After all, he was all you had. He was your everything too.

 ---

Sebastian was ecstatic when the doctors finally told him that he could bring you home. You had never seen that big of a smile on his face before.

The doctors told him it would take some time for you to figure everything out, and get back to how things initially were.

He understood, and promised that he would take things slow.

  In the ride back home, he would stop asking if you were fine, comfortable or if you needed anything. It felt like he was dealing with a child.

 “I’m okay, babe, don’t worry,” you reassured him and watched how his ears got red, and so did the apples of his cheeks.

His entire face flushed.

 You chuckled, holding his hand firmly as it was lazily placed on your lap.

 “I just- I want to make sure everything’s alright. With you, with us,” he spoke and brought your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of your hand.

There was a white patch on it, under which was the wound caused by the IV.

 “We’re alright, Seb. We’re fine, we’ll be okay. Don’t worry so much,”

 He smiled at your words and proceeded to tell you how happy he was that you were going back home with him.

He looked like a little kid; excited as if he was bringing home his best friend.

 Truth is, he was.

   ---

Days went on.

And you were happily back on track. You had adjusted pretty quickly to everything, and you used your social media to catch up on everything you missed.

 Sebastian was of great help, of course, the man barely left your side. He made sure you ate properly, and David came by often and helped with your physiotherapy, to help your stiff joints.

You were getting better and better, and Sebastian was happier than anyone to hear about your progress.

  As much as he could, Sebastian avoided talking about Connor and Liana, but somehow, you managed to bring it up once.

You asked about them, but he still refused to tell you about the horrifying details.

 “They’re gone, okay? You don’t have to worry about them, baby, just focus on getting better, I-,”

 You sighed.

 “I am better, Seb, it’s been two weeks. I’m fine. I just want to know what you did to them, it’s r-,”

 “Killed them, threw their bodies in lakes, no big deal,” he cut you off and answered nonchalantly.

 Surprisingly, you didn’t react.

It did hurt to hear that the man you once thought as being your father, was now at the bottom of some lake. Dead. Alone. Left there without a proper funeral.

And Liana, the one you once considered to be a close friend. She was also dead and lying at the bottom of a lake somewhere. Not cared for.

It hurt for a moment, you were human after all, and unlike Sebastian; you weren’t used to this. But once the recollection of what they did to you settled in, what they did to Sebastian and to your real parents – a little voice in your head whispered that they probably deserved what fate had in store for them.

 You just nodded. At Sebastian, and at your conscience.

 Well, at least they were gone for good.

  ---

 You noticed that Sebastian was still being very careful around you. He held you like you were the most brittle thing in the world, or that he was scared he would break you.

Right now, he assisted you as you got out of the shower, wrapped in your bathrobe. He stood outside as he waited for you to step out.

 “God Y/N, you took so long in there. I thought you fell or something,” his voice showed his worry.

You had barely stepped out of the shower completely that he began questioning you.

 You laughed and shook your head.

 “I’m not made of glass, Seb. I’m fine, you need to stop worrying so much, really,” you spoke as you got your hair out of the twisted towel.

 Your wet locks fell down your back and Sebastian walked up to you and wrapped his hands around you. He kissed the side of your face and looked at you through the mirror in front of which you were standing.

 “Don’t ever leave me,” he spoke, his voice small and gentle. You noticed that he said that quite a lot these days. He wrap his arms around you at different times during the day and would whisper the exact same words, all the time.

You turned around in his arms and faced him, cupping his face in your hands as you placed your lips on his.

He immediately responded by moving his mouth with yours. His hands gripped your waist and one of them easily slipped past the slit of the robe and traced imaginary shapes on your hip bone.

You missed this.

You missed him, and his touch.

And he knew.

But he believed he would hurt you.

  Your hands travelled to his hair and you ran your fingers through it, as you walked the two of you towards the bed.

You sensed that he was holding back. He was, again, being very gentle.

 When the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, Sebastian broke the kiss abruptly and pulled away. His face showed that he was worried, for nothing, again.

 “Baby, are you hurt? I’m so s-,”

 “Will you just shut up and fuck me? Jesus fucking Christ, Seb! I’m fine! Just-,”

 He didn’t even let you complete your sentence. Having heard what you wanted, all he wanted to do was to please you, all while being gentle of course.

 Sebastian carefully pushed you down on the bed and climbed on top of you, untying your dark grey bathrobe in the process.

He immediately dipped his head down and gave you a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips while his hands lazily rubbed up and down your sides.

His hands were warm against your still, somewhat, damp body.

He pulled back and saw the hunger in your eyes. Truth be told, he was eager to have you as well. He had been for so many days, but he was scared.

 His hands ran along your legs and he settled in between them, arms wrapped around your thighs as his face got dangerously close to your damp core.

You whimpered as each puff of air he breathed out fanned against your wet folds and sent shivers down your spine.

 He watched how your back immediately arched off the bed as soon as his mouth made contact with your sensitive spot.

A quiet moan escaped your lips when his tongue circled your clit; eyes closing as each stroke of his tongue felt like ecstasy.

Your hands grabbed onto the blanket under you as Sebastian’s mouth worked wonder on you. His lips rubbed against your folds relentlessly as each sound you made fueled his passion.

You bucked your hips against his mouth gently, moaning as you coated the lower half of his face with your arousal.

 Your thighs tensed as the pleasure washed over you again and again with each stroke of his tongue. It didn’t take you long to reach your release.

Soon, you gushed out all over his lips. Cursing and whimpering under his touch as he kissed his way up your body.

He very briefly took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and soon shifted his attention to the other one.

His actions got hastier as he dipped his head back into the crook of your neck again, nibbling on the skin at your throat and collar bones.

 He was just as impatient as you were.

 “Baby, tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he panted at the shell of your ear and waited until you nodded. Once you did, he lowered his sweatpants just enough to free his excited member.

You moaned as soon as you felt it; hard and firm, against your inner thigh. Sebastian chuckled.

 “Needy for me, huh?” he teased, nibbling on the spot right beneath your ear; knowing very well that it was your weak spot.

 You whined in response and he chuckled again – staring into your eyes.

He stared for a bit too long so your hand reached out and touched his face, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“What?” you asked, the look he gave you was different.

It was comforting, loving. Providing you a sense of belonging – there in his arms.

 “Nothing, I love you. I’m so in love with you, and I’m scared that– please don’t leave me. You’re my everything, Y/N,” his words immediately brought tears in your eyes.

 You leaned in and placed our lips on his, sealing the promise that you wouldn’t leave him.

 “I love you, too Seb. A lot,” you whispered against his lips and he wasted no time in pushing his length inside of you.

You sensed a warmth engulfing both you and him, wrapping around you like an invisible shelter – promising a sanctuary. One you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

 He filled you up, and watched how your face frowned in pleasure. He searched for any signs of discomfort, but when he found none; he sped up into you.

 Your hands gripped his shoulder for support as your body moved against his perfectly. Your legs circled his waist and locked behind his lower back.

Each stroke of his member allowed you to feel all of him. His scent infiltrated your mind and soon, that was all you could focus on.

His cologne, mixed with the faint scent of his shower gel. He smelt divine.

 You panted and groaned along with him each time you matched his thrust; body moving against his like a rag doll.

 He pounded into while whispering how much he loved you in your ear, telling you how lonely he felt when you weren’t here, how much he missed you and how he will keep you safe for the rest of your life.

All the sparks, the warmth, the emotions and the pleasure – all at once became too much to handle and soon, you were riding the waves of euphoria.

Walls clenching around him as you let go; moaning his name out loud and whimpering in pleasure as he grunted at how good you felt and how much he had missed this; missed you.

  -

 After going at it for quite a while, the two of you just collapsed onto the bed and snuggled under the covers – panting and sweating, but worth it.

Sebastian’s hands circled around you and he pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head and sighing in satisfaction.

Out of nowhere, he chuckled.

 “What’s so funny?” you asked, voice still hoarse from your past actions. You tangled your bare legs with his quietly winced at the soreness between your hips.

“Just thinking about the time when I had to literally chase you around the country because you wouldn’t stop fucking running away from me,” he chuckled again.

You scoffed, and smiled at the memory.

 “Well, you did threaten me by placing a gun to my face. You poured hot wax on me, Seb, who wouldn’t run away?” you giggled at the memory.

He turned to look at you in fake disbelief.

 “Oh shut up, you liked it,” he argued and kissed your forehead. Hands lazily hovering over your skin, you sighed in the comfort of his touch.

 “You remember the note you left me? I was so scared of you then,” you laughed at the memory.

 He inched closer and gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

“And now?” he asked, his baby blue eyes looking in yours.

 “And now you’re my safe place. My sanctuary. You’re my home, Seb,”

  ---

  Weeks went on and your relationship with the mob boss kept flourishing. You did have certain situations where you had your differences. Sebastian had this habit of looking out for you and sometimes, it could get suffocating.

But, just like any other couple, you faced your highs and your lows together – promising each other that no matter what happens, you’ll figure out a way to handle it.

 Sebastian, along with Chris, soon got back to his work. All was going smoothly, until one day.

 You were playing around on your phone while Sebastian made dinner. By dinner he meant wine and grilled cheese. Your favorite as you had been loving cheese lately.

 As you scrolled through your calendar, you realized that you hadn’t marked the date you last had your period.

A wave of panic washed over you. And you sat there, frozen on the kitchen stool. Your thoughts were racing and it felt like you were going to pass out any time soon.

 You told Seb you were going to use the bathroom, and on your way there, you searched the bathroom drawers for the two pregnancy tests you had kept just in case.

Your heart pounded as you took both.

 You waited for a while, allowing it time to process the sample and then you finally checked both of them.

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

 Holy shit.

  You paced around in front of the bathroom mirror, making a mental plan of how you would break the news to Sebastian. Would he be happy?

Was the timing alright?

Is it too soon to have a b-

 “Babe? You in there? What’s taking so long?” your always too worried boyfriend yelled from outside, interrupting your overthinking session.

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Screw the plan.

 Your heart pounded even more as you twisted the handle and opened the door. Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Sebastian standing in the middle of the room.

You knew that both of you thought about that time when you threw up blood and lied to him. But there was no lying this time.

 “Did you throw up again? Y/N, are you okay? Should I call David a-,”

You cut him off

 “I’m pregnant,” was all you said and you watched how it took him some time to process the words you spoke.

He just stared at you, lips parted as he looked like he was in shock.

 “My period’s late, and I just took two tests in there. I’m so pregnant. Seb, baby, I know it’s too soon for us to even consider having a baby and I-,”

 He cut you off by walking over to where you were standing and placed his lips on yours. All your worries went away as fast as they came when he held your face gently in his hand.

When Sebastian pulled away, you noticed how glossy his eyes had become. His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke.

 “Shh, this is perfect. You’re perfect, baby, thank you so much. Jesus, I’m gonna be a dad. Babe, I don’t know how to do anything around babies. I should hide my guns, oh God, do we need a bigger house? Baby, I-,”

Your tears fell as he went on and on, and rambled until you cut him off.

 “Hey, calm down. And don’t worry, the baby won’t be here for a while now. We’re fine, Seb, we’re gonna be okay, we have plenty of time. You’re gonna be a great dad,” you reassured him while he wiped away your tears as they kept falling.

 “That’s my baby in there?” he asked, softly as he placed his hand on your tummy. You nodded with tears in your eyes.

 Sebastian let out a little laugh as he looked down. He was a dad now. He had a baby on the way. And he was more than happy that he’ll get to share this part of his life with you.

 “When will it show?” he asked, suddenly very interested in your belly as he caressed the skin with the palm of his hand and you chuckled as you ran your hand through his now slightly longer hair.

He had been growing it since you once told him that you liked it better that way.

 “It’ll take time for the bump to show, Seb,” you laughed at how clueless he was. Then you realized than due to the nature of his work, he must have been so disconnected from the more ‘normal’ side of life.

He never got to see how beautiful it was to start a family, and watch the life you helped create grow inside someone you love.

He never had this before. But he was going to now, and you were more than happy that you got to give him that.

 Sebastian kissed you again, after which he promised to keep you and his baby safe and sound.

 ---

  And so began the life you had always dreamt of, with the one you loved the most in the world. Life with Sebastian was blissful.

It was everything you had ever dreamt of, and more. Ups and downs, moments spent with him which you would cherish until your last breath. Vacations, and arguments over your baby’s name and your sudden cravings.

And more arguments over names after you found out that you were having twins. A boy and a girl. Sebastian became more protective than ever.

 On some days, he could be the biggest baby you had ever seen. And on other days, watching him run around trying to deal with your mood swings soon became the funniest thing you had ever witnessed.

 Every night, he would wake up even with the slightest movement you made. If you woke up to use the bathroom, he’d wake up and sit on the edge of the bed and waited until you were back in bed before sleeping again.

 While asleep, he soon developed this habit of caressing your baby bump whenever he pleased.

 Sometimes, you both would just look at each other and smile. Not a word was said – but so much was shared through that one smile.

All the hard times which went by, and the ones to come; you both knew that as long as the other one was there, you’d make it through hell and back.

You knew that no matter what, you’d always find a way back to each other. Back to the safety of one another’s arms.

Back home, with each other.

  -

 A/N: I’m crying.

Thank you to each and every one who made it till the end of this series. Thank you for each like. Each comment. Each re-blog and each ask you sent. Thank you for encouraging this.

This is it. This is the last part of the ‘Back For You’ series. Thank you for loving it as much as I did. This is the first series I have ever written, but definitely not the last.

The love you all showed to this series means a lot to me. I adore you. Each one of you. Thank you again!

Love,

Your friendly, neighborhood Sinner.

-

Tag List for this series: (Feel free to join any other Tag List)

@crawlingnightmares @derekxsammy @coffees-and-constellations @josie605 @someone-i-use-to-know @enigma-xlii @fromtheheartandsoul @docharleythegeekqueen @nostalgicgrant @undiscovered-misunderstood @moowaa-us @flipflopasshat @finallysomegoodfuckingcontent @spideyxxboi @everything-is-awesomesauce @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @euphoricbucky @keepcalmandsosayweall @naurin-of-the-east @hadouqueen @a-kiddo-with-a-doggo @theunknowinglys @toinfinityandbeyondaffection @nerdytarah @purplechipsblog @bxxbxy @loving-barnes @msruchita @abehn @varvarafromgr @thehuntress26 @nojerama1996 @namebydot @carlya65 @generalhuxcanfux @mustbeaweasleyginger @otakushifter @parker-barnes-af @ladifreakingda @nerdeey @airloe @blvck-stabbath @minimin1993 @bakugouwinshester @mykingofasgardnew @pxrrishly @buckybarneshairpullingkink @richieleeparker @hiken-no-stark @yeahhemmings- @rororo06 @spn-marvel-nerd @the-omni-princess @heyiamthatbitch @tabalagux @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @ya-lyublu-tebya @queenofstarliqht @nickyl316h @booktease21 @darknesslibra @rxmanovbby @marvelfangirl-12 @sgtbxckybxrnes @tinsybarnes @officialboredomeblogging @drabby-abby @scarlettequinn @spookyhufflepuffchild @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @knu18 @plums-and-peaches @harrison-shot-first @unlikelycandylove @peacefulpeonies @jbb-bucky0310 @honeyydippaa @sebstanwintersoldier27 @hereforsebastian @ela-ena @0bstacle-1 @dysisaurora @mzwikoff @fkngparadise @londonalozzy @trulysmoakin @punxgal @fxcking-negan @zainabmmm @stangirl-fangirl264 @uhh-katie-griffiths @mischeviousliar @sjeunhaelover @bundabear @cookies186 @grizz-is-the-loml @absolutecraziness13 @starstar1012 @cyasucka @rogerinaissexonlegs @buckyaboveall @allonszassbutt @rinthehufflepuff @izzys-addiction-for-fiction @s-trawberryv-eins @childishhoe @bubblegum-love18 @starbuckycofee @studentville-struggles @outerspacelines @extraextraguacplease @morrellica @thinkingaboutyoumendes @ckagak @rainbowkisses31 @frenchhufflepuff @thefvcker-tucker @myspectacularfantasies @yallneedtrek @radi0active-thoughts @usernamemingmei @miss-nxvxcaine @bookgirlunicorn @hackervan @alive-because-suicide-is-a-sin @jamesbuckybarnes13 @i-dont-know-how-to-words @marvelgirl7 @hinata7346 @itsmejessicasstuff @smashley816 @friska101cg @theoralpha @yosoymuyloca @pointlessblogger99 @godohammers @jasontoddsgunholster @salvatoregirl99

Permanent Tag List:

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[going-there-and-back-again]

Thank you so much to @theleavesoflorien and @shiremaiden for tagging me in all of these <3 <3 I AM SO SORRY about how overdue all of these are (exam season this year is over a month and a half long and actually cut through christmas and new year’s sighh) and so i’ve just done a huge mashup tag-game post

1) rules: share your 12 favourite songs from this year (one from each month or just your favourites overall)

(i couldn’t find one per month but here are the ones i did find! these are the songs i listened to and liked the most each month)

january: i took the dust of a long sleepless night and i put it in your little shoe

(the boxer - simon and garfunkel // one of us cannot be wrong - leonard cohen)

february: and i’ll sing you to sleep, and i’ll sing you tomorrow

(sleepsong - secret garden)

march: - n/a (didn’t listen to much from march to april unfortunately)

april: n/a

may: the lost and forgotten

(god help the outcasts - hunchbach of the notre dame)

june: so she took her love, far to gaze a while, upon the fields of barley

(fields of gold - peter hollens & tyler ward & lindsey stirling)

july: you can’t escape forever, mistaking smoke for heaven’s light

(stomach it - crywolf)

august: how do you know, when to let go

(where does the good go - sleeping at last)

september: try to quiet the noises in your head

(only us: dear evan hansen - peter hollens & evynne hollens)

october: smile because you’re the deer in the headlights

(deer in the headlights - owl city)

november: slow down, you crazy child

(vienna - billy joel//just the way you are - billy joel)

december: they sleep on the wind and...never light on this earth but one time when they die!

(bird song: the fugitive kind - kenyon hopkins)

2) @thesleeplessartist (sorry this has been sitting in my ask for ages):- list 5 things that make you happy 

i’ve interpreted this as thing things, so like objects/experiences, tangible or intangible

i) i love the smell of rain

ii) books !!! lord of the rings. tennessee williams. william faulkner. virginia woolf. 

iii) the feeling you get when you’re laughing too hard to breathe, usually over something completely ridiculous (and really not that funny)

iv) string lights/fairy lights, indoors or outside

v) this strange blue website where i come to scream into the void

3) Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) @theleavesoflorien i haven’t really made any fanworks this year (i’ve actually never made a graphic though i really want to try sometime) so i’m listing a bunch of works from other people i really liked instead!!

these are all based on the recent works i’ve tagged as a favorite so it’s missing a ton of lovely work but here goes:

- https://southfarthing.tumblr.com/post/632794337179287553/i-am-sorry-sorry-you-have-come-in-for-this (so SO pretty and it ripped my heart out; @southfarthing you are too talented)

-https://shiremaiden.tumblr.com/post/169663273253/lotr-chapters-the-return-of-the-king-chapter ( @shiremaiden the color and atmosphere of this is just too much; i was going to link your 12 days of tolkien series but decided last minute to change it but really i love all your gifs in general)

- https://evepolastrl.tumblr.com/post/106563880499 (not okay)

- https://watson-sighs-and-tuts.tumblr.com/post/115406956466/on-his-face-is-a-map-of-the-world (oh my god ‘i dreamed that i was old’ I DREAMED THAT I WAS OLD, REALLY, how could you do this to me)

-https://pippinforthewin.tumblr.com/post/90804656804/the-world-is-indeed-full-of-peril-and-in-it - :’))

tagging: @shiremaiden, @theleavesoflorien, @southfarthing, and @et-earello to do any part of this you like!!

[just-my-fandom]

Loner (Jim Hopper x Daughter! Reader)

SPOILERS FOR S3. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Summary; Reader is Hoppers older daughter who dies instead of Hopper and Hopper finds a note from the reader after her passing explaining that she knew she was going to die, saving El and Hopper (Slight Billy x reader too)

My birthday party is this Saturday so I will inactive that whole weekend

Caution, this one was completely rushed so its really, really bad

Tagged; @irreplaceable-ecstasy @fraeppuccino @teenwolflover28 @buckysjuicyplums @lcgaf @kyrathekiller @canny1902 @itsfangirlmendes @tellmyselfies @xkotkuu @scarletmeii @krazykatkay456 probably still forgot someone and im sorry

___________________________________________

Dear Dad,

So, I'm not really good at writing letters. I never written a letter like this before, so, I guess that's probably why

We're going to have to fight the Russians, huh? Its funny when I say it out loud, but, thinking about it now, I fear someone might get hurt or, even worse, killed

And I know what youre going to say when you read this letter, 'you are not going to fight the Russians, this is a job left for the adults,'. Well, Dad, I hate to break it to you, but Im an adult now

But, knowing you, you dont count a nineteen year old as an adult. Not in your book. In your book Im still your little girl, who battled cancer like a champ while my sister couldn't. But I am. Im an adult, and its my job to protect Eleven since I couldnt protect Sara

Ive always looked up to you. You taught me how to use a gun at twelve, taught me to fight without a gun at fourteen. Im pretty much like the karate kid now, but with a gun and the Chief of Hawkins as my father

I dont even know why Im writing this letter to begin with. Here I am sitting in Joyce's house while you guys are with a 'dangerous criminal' and Eleven is stopping this big ass monster

Guess I should go help them. Figure out a way to call Steve or Jonathan and meet up with them and do what I do best, fight bad guys

Love, Y/N Hopper

He found it tucked in your jeans. Folding clothes to put in boxes, Jim hears the crumble of the paper and realizes you had forgotten all about the stupid letter

But its all he has left of you. As hes reading it his mind is blurry, emotions jumbled. He would smile at some parts, others he would tear up and remember that you, did, indeed, protect Eleven

Jim knew you were happy now. When Sara died a couple years back and your mother left you with Jim, you became depressed. But knowing you saved not just Eleven but your father, he knew you accomplished your goal in life,

And for once, Jim wasnt pissed at your actions

Your bedroom is empty now. Eleven and Mike are patching the giant hole in the ceiling from the Mindflayer monster (that was fun to explain), while the others picked up furniture and cleaned bits and pieces of the destroyed cabin,

Jim lifts the last box off of your bed, tucking the box into your closet with many more boxes of clothes, items, and old toys,

The note remains clutched in his hand. He doesnt want to let it go. He let you go, not knowing it was your goal to make sure he and El were safe

Jim runs a large hand down his face, heaving a breathy sigh and dropping onto your bed, hand beginning to tremble when it tightened on the paper,

"She wouldnt want you to be like this,"

Jim looks up at a voice. Eleven and Max stood at the door, Maxs lips pressed tight together,

"She wouldnt want you to be like this," Max repeats, Jim nodding his head slowly, looking down at the note,

"I-" Jim inhales deeply, giving Eleven the go to enter the bedroom and sit next to him, sliding her hand into his that didnt have a grip on the letter,

"Y/N loved you," Eleven starts firmly, Jim directing his eyes to hers and watching the young girl smile, "You raised her to be the girl she was. Strong, independent. Her mother and Sara would be proud,"

Jim chuckles, dryly, sniffing away any tears that dared to fall, "She was too independent. She couldnt protect Sara, she knew it was her job to protect you," He hands the letter to Eleven, forcing himself to let it go,

"Billy did, too," Eleven swiftly scans the letter, looking back up at her adoptive father,

"God, they hated each other," Max snorts, Jims lips tugging upwards, "Youd see them glaring at each other or shooting nasty comments at one other,"

"She doesnt play games, thats for sure," Jim chuckles again, softer, "But shes with him now. Maybe this time they'll get along for once,"

Your eyes look over at Billy, his arms crossed and eyebrows raised to you. His eyes flick down to Earth, and you laugh, shaking your head,

"No way Hargrove," You grin, "Not unless you plan to stop smoking any time soon,"

"Not like it can harm me up here," Billy shrugs, looking around the bright, clouded area, "Sucks. My cars not here,"

"You cant go anywhere, dingus," You giggle,

"Dont you want to see California?" Billy questions, and your eyes look down to your father under the clouds, then to Billys extended hand,

Sighing, you take his hand, squeezing, "Lead the way,"

[slut-for-fandoms]

Paint me yours (kth x reader) PART 1

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters) 

Summary:  You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: none in this one (perhaps my bad writing and lots of mistakes?) 

A/N: So here is the first chapter. I really don’t know what to think about it as i haven’t written anything in more than a year (so sorry guys but now I am back, yey) I really do hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you would like to be tagged in the series ♥ Enjoy 

Euphoria. Excitement. Happiness. Exaltation. A complete symphony of colors and emotions. Blue, purple, violet, azure - blended in such a way that glues you to the masterpiece. At places it seems unfinished, raw, as though the creator has been in a hurry. But at the same time it is so detailed that you wonder how long it took him to create it. It represents a woman, or to be more precise, a young girl. Long hair composed with ochre, amber, honey and a hint of gold, covers half of her pale face. Her lips are the perfect combination of red, cheery, wine and auburn. An orderly chaos of colors.

While everything seems just as raw painting, the most capturing features are the eyes. They are so detailed and express the condition of the girl. The sparks that make her look tangible grabs you on a roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and somehow makes you even experience the same state.  I move to the next painting.

Sadness. Affliction. Pain. Torment. The contrast between the used shades is much deeper. Pale yet dark. The more I look at it, the more it captivates me. All of the creations I saw were beyond amazing, complete masterpieces but this one… This one is different. One look and I got this strange feeling in my guts when we anticipate something bad, something that might hurt us.

The background is composed of dark shades, while the girl is sculpted of the pale range of colors. Again, the most detailed parts are the eyes. You get the feeling as if a soul was trapped inside the drawn girl that shows how much she suffers. The more you contemplate, the more you assume that the darkness around her represents the cruel world, while the bright yet shaded colors shows how fragile and broken she is. Is it from the world? What destroyed her? Who made her look like a shattered vase which parts are no longer going to form its beautiful shape?

Holding my glass of champagne I took some steps back and sat on the settee opposite the painting. Thanks god it wasn’t that low as they use to be in other galleries. I crossed my legs which caused the hem of my black dress to roll up slightly. As an art student, I tend to visit many exhibitions in order to get inspiration, gain knowledge of the new and unorthodox styles and improve mine. I can’t say I am complaining as we are given free access to any kind of such events. This is beyond amazing as now I am contemplating the art of one of the rising artists – Kim Taehyung. Honestly, I have never seen him but the critics consider him the new Van Gogh and now I understand why.

When I came I was so uneven about it, all the people here were rich and classy and I, a broken student with a cheap dress borrowed from her friend, had no place here. Everything was out of my league and I felt like garbage disfiguring this place.

“You seem really immersed into the picture.”, someone chucked, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw man in golden suit and two glasses of champagne in his hands. His smile was so bright, genuine, that it made me blush slightly, “May I?”, he titled his head towards the settee as if asking if it was free.

“Ye- yeah, of course”, I stuttered and put a lock of fallen hair behind my ear.

His smile grew bigger and he took the free seat next to me.

“Here.”, he gave me one of the glasses. I looked up at him confused, “I saw that you have already finished yours so…”, I looked at my glass which was empty. I might have stayed there for a way longer time that I have thought. I left the glass on the floor next to the settee.

“Thank you.”, I gave him a smile, although inside I was feeling embarrassed, “Very fond of you.”, I said after taking the offered glass.

“Well, I just wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I have left such a beautiful lady sitting here by her side. The champagne was just an excuse to approach you.”, I bit my lip and tried to hide myself due to the blush that crept on my face.

“You are even more appealing when blushing.”, okay, I have never believed I could become so red but here I am.

“Please, stop.”, I stuttered through the smile that just grew bigger on my face.

“Why?”, he tilted his head and asked me with that sweet smirk still placed on his face, his eyes never leaving my figure, “you don’t like honest people?”, as a response I chuckled and tried to gain my dignity and look at him. Why was I such a blushing mess around this… stranger…a handsome stranger?

“It is just that you are the first one to approach me this evening.”, a slight feeling of sadness made my stomach turn as I recall the events, pardon, the lack of them from this night. I started playing with my hands as something as pity overwhelmed me.

“Well-”, his deep baritone voice made me look at him. This time he was facing the painting in front of us which gave me the opportunity to survey him. Soft pink lips, sweet roundy nose, medium long light eyelashes. Skin in the color of bronze and a golden suit that make him look like a god. Aristocratic hands with long fingers, adorned with rings. The way he is holding the glass gives you the thoughts that a prince is sitting oppose you, “It is their lose.”, he states after locking his eyes with mine. And then I’m completely lost. They are just like the sad girls’ in the paintings – full of emotions. I see the same spark that leads directly to his soul. It captivates you. There is love, care, tenderness that make my heart skips a beat. But also you can spot something wild and intriguing. An abyss of feelings kept locked deep inside.

He took a sip of his champagne which caught my attention and made me break the eye contact. How could such a simple action as drinking makes me wanna grab the brushes and paint this gorgeous creature on the canvas?

“I can’t say I am complaining of that.”, I followed his movements and took a taste of my drink, “They seem like they are here only for talking. All of them are just chit-chatting and just at times spare a glance at the paintings. It – It just looks like a gathering of the rich and bitchy class.”, suddenly he burst into laughing. Oh that sound… It was like a soft melody for my years I could listen to all day. It was so infectious and addicting.

“What?”, I asked confused but with a smile plastered on my face.

“I couldn’t have said it more correctly. I’ve met everybody in the gallery and yet you are the only one contemplating the works.”

“Isn’t that what we are supposed to do on an exhibition? But apart from that, these paintings, these masterpieces…”, I took a breath like looking at the sad girl opposite me, “they are captivating. There is life in them, there is soul. Undoubtedly the artist is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Many have the ability to draw, few have the talent to create a masterpiece, something that makes you stop and think. And these here, they indeed convey more than a hundred words.”

“And where do you think that comes from?”, he asks me in that deep voice of his. I turn my attention back on him to see the man already looking at me with a stern expression showing nothing.

“The ability to make a painting live?”, he nodded his head in agreement, “Pain.”

“Pain?”

“Pain. It is always the pain. Why do you think the greatest artists are those who have suffered the most?  Sadness, sorrow, ache, agony… they are different than the other feelings. When something good happens to you, you are happy for a short moment. Usually those moments tends to be forgotten way easier than the moments that our soul was in pain. It is just that the affliction we bottle inside us ruins us in the end. The knots in our stomach, the suffocating feeling in our chest… they are tormenting us and we all need a way to express them somehow, to try to get them out of us. And the answer is always the art. It doesn’t matter whether it would be with a brush or a pen in our hands, if we are going to compose a poem, song or just draw something.  We just want the pain away. For its tight fist around our hearts to weaken, for its dark thoughts to leave us at peace at night, for the tears to stop rolling down and choke us.”, I paused in order to take a sip of my champagne, feeling his eyes following my movements, “That is one of the reasons why I like this one so much.”, I continued pointing at the work before us, “It look as if not only the model had been sad, but also the artist.”, when I turned around he had a sad smile on his face. For a moment I saw the abyss – full of sorrow and regret, pain and affliction.

“You can’t be more right.”, and once again, as he looked up, the door to his soul closed with that stern expression, “That is why I don’t know whether I like this work or not.”

“It recalls a bad event?”

“It recalls the day I painted her.”

My eyes were so wide that surely they were going to pop out of my head. I opened my mouth, then close it, then opened it again. I was so shocked that I could say nothing.

“I still remember how heartbroken she was.”

“You- you are the artist?”, my voice raised an octave higher and I cursed myself.

“Surprised?”, he asked smiling at my shocked expression.

“You just caught me off guard.”

And then the rest of the night kind of slips my mind. I don’t really know how long we’d been talking through various topics. Whatever felt like hours had only been half an hour once I saw the watch on my hand.

“Unfortunately, as a host, I need to make a speech. It was nice to meet you -”

“(Y/N)!”, answering I took his hand as he helped me get up from the settee.

“(Y/N).”, he said tasting my name and I could not miss the way his tongue rolled and the deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “A beautiful name for a way more gorgeous girl.”

“Why are you trying to make my blush so hard?”, I asked trying to hide my face.

“I don’t know. I just like it.”, he shrugged with a smile, “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”, is it just me or he just lowered his voice on purpose while saying my name.

“O-Of course.”, out of nervousness I started playing with my own hands which only made his smirk grow bigger.

“Would you like to be my model, darling?”

[chainslaughter]

@brighterthanathousandsuns tagged me, thank you- :)

1. Nickname: i just go by Z on here my real life nicknames are embarrassing tbh 

2. Real name?: rather not say but im sure you can fill in the blanks 

3. Zodiac: scorpio

4. Height: ..like 157.5 cm or about 5′2″ 

5. What time is it? 4:41 am (as of typing this) i woke up anxious so im trying to get my mind off it 

6. Favourite musician/group: hm, probably well, skinny puppy still

7. Favourite sports team: this just makes me think this ask list came from a completely different corner of the place if you know what i mean.

8. Other blogs: @autotunedcats (main) , @chainslaughter, @brachpallium (a monster hunter/ ark sideblog), and @the7thelement, which i made somewhat recently buttttt hvent rlly got around to organizing it yet and dont know if/ when ill ever. it was gonna be, like, character/story inspiration type of things, esp sci fi/ fantasy, weird things like space, animals, art, plants, bright colors,clothes etc. 

, 9. Do I get asks?: i think ive gotten about 3 asks total across all my blogs since my 4/5 years on here. but im quiet and bad at talking so its okay. (thanks to those who have though)

10. How many blogs do I follow: oh god 1029.. ive never cleaned follows ever and i really probably should lots of these are prob long dead

11. Any Tumblr crushes?: Some of you seem very lovely and i do enjoy your tumblr presence !, despite that i dont really interact w anyone, so i dont know if i could say i have any legitimate crushes? again its probably bc i dont talk to anyone !

12. Lucky number: i must not have one lucky enough to remember, because my mind is blank rn.

13. What am I wearing right now: pajamas

14. Dream vacation: anywhere away from here

15. Dream car: i cant even drive yet 

16. Favourite food: for now im kind of subjected to eating super bland food on a daily basis so im not exactly a foodie at this point in my life, sorry

17. Drink of choice: same goes here, but i actually like water, tea is good too.

18. Languages: English, a small, incoherent pile of latin, and a tiny bit of russian(like, actual knowledge of the language unlike latin) but ive mostly forgotten that sadly becasue i havent worked on it in years.

19. Instruments: none sadly and never have

20. Celebrity crushes?: im not up on celebrities i live under a rock 

21. Random fact: i am also left handed ! :)  lately ive been fascinated with deep ocean, outer space, and dinosaurs. i feel like i should have some facts on those to spout to show for it,  of course i dont and if it means personal facts, i cant think of anything else there either, so!!

sorry im killing it here as usual and not tagging any one :)) (but ofc if anyone really wants to, go ahead and d0 so)

[lilulo-12fanfiction]

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart- 3

So this took me about 8 years to write. I’m not sure why. But it’s unedited so please ignore the mistakes. The spacing looks off but I’m posting this on mobile so I’ll look at it on my laptop mañana. Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Masterlist

Tag List:

@fanfictionjunkie1112 @shreddedparchment

“Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony!” A 6 year old Nora ran to her Uncle and he scooped her up in his arms. “I missed you!” Nora repeatedly kissed her young uncle’s clean shaven face.

“I missed you too baby doll. Why don’t you go over and see Grandpa Obe. I think he has a present for you.” Tony set Nora down and she ran down the hall.

Nora was dreaming. She knew she was. She was standing there watching her memory unfold. It was the strangest dream. She had never had one like this.

“Hello Nora.” Nora slowly turned as her hands trembled. She knew the voice. She took a shaky breath and came face to face with Loki.

“How are you in my dream?” Loki gave Nora a smirk.

“I’m a God Nora Stark. There are many things I can do.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We had so little time together. There is much you don’t know. Things your father hid from you and your Uncle. I’m here to lead you to the truth. Pay attention to this.” Loki turned you back to the scene before you. This couldn’t be your memory. You had left the room.

“Grant- it’s her birthday and every year you leave her here and vanish for days. Eventually she’s not going to be okay with it. You lost your wife. But she lost her mother.”

“Her mother is gone and it’s my job to protect her from what’s to come. I leave to protect her. You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

“If Nora here infringes on your extra curricular activities, I can get a Nanny.”

“Don’t be stupid. This has nothing to do with her being here. I look forward to this all year. But I’m worried that some day she’s going to resent you and it will be too late.”

“She’s not you. And I’m not our father so just stop. I’ll see you in a week.” Tony stood staring blankly as his brother stormed out. He had no idea what he was hiding. He had left without even saying goodbye to Nora.

“Protect me from what’s to come? What does that mean?!” Nora demanded answers from Loki.

“You have to put it together on your own. I can guide you Nora but you must put the pieces together. “

Before Nora could respond she jolted awake. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she was in a bad version of a Dickens Novel

“That must have been some dream” A deep voice came from her right. She looked over and saw Steve Rogers sitting in the chair next to her bed in the med wing.

“It was intense.” Nora started to regain her bearings.

“Look. I know you don’t want to see me and you think I’m the bad guy. But I had to make that decision. Tony knew what he was doing. I couldn’t risk everything he was willing to sacrifice. I wouldn’t have made that choice if”

“Steve. Steve. I know. I was a bitch. I was emotional and upset and I took it out on you. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that. It was just a lot and I think the poison in my system is making me delirious or something but I know you made the right decision. My uncle wouldn’t able to live with himself if people died to save him.” Steve took Nora’s hand. He could tell she was getting upset again.

“It’s forgotten. It was a difficult day. I’m just glad you and Tony are okay.”

“I think okay is stretch.” Nora laughed.

"Well physically okay." Steve squeezed Nora's hand as the door to her room opened. Bruce walked in, seemingly surprised to see Steve sitting there.

"You ready to get out of here?" Bruce had a strange look on his face.

"I thought you said I'd be here for longer?" Nora furrowed her brow.

"Well, we originally thought you would need IV Antibiotics for longer. It seemed like a nasty infection. But apparently it is healing a lot quicker than anticipated. You aren’t out of the woods but we can switch you to oral antibiotics now. You're still going to be sore and the stitches may give you some trouble but we should be able to take them out soon. There's no reason for you to stay in this bed any longer. But Nora, you need to take it easy for a bit."

“Define take it easy” Bruce looked exasperated as he ran his palm down his face.

“You need to stay in the building for now. We don’t want you exposed to any other bacteria. We don’t know how this will affect your immune system. You’re going to have to keep your leg elevated and the swelling down and crutches to walk.

“So really just like being here but in my own bed or on my ass wheeling around. Bruce I have work to do. The tower is a mess. The city is a mess.”

“It’s not up to you to fix it. You need to take care of yourself.” Nora’s lips were pursed. “Don’t look at me like you’re trying to appease me. You have

to follow instructions.” Bruce was pleading. “Or I’ll call Tony and you’ll stay here.”

“She’ll follow directions Dr. Banner. I’ll make sure of it.” Steve had his arms crossed in front of his chest with authority. Nora’s nostrils flared. Before she could attempt to argue Steve continued talking. “You’re going to need help. Tony needs to recover himself. I, however, am already healed. Let me help you.”

“Must be nice being a Super Soldier, but fine.” Nora threw her hands up. “But don’t even think about trying to treat me like a child.” Nora pointed her finger at Steve with raised eyebrows.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Steve wheeled Nora into her apartment. Both he and Bruce insisted on her using it to get to her wing of the tower and use it to go anywhere else in the tower except around her loft.

"Now what?' Nora sighed. Steve could tell she was upset but was trying not to show it.

"Now, I'm going to order some dinner. I don't think you want to be poisoned by my cooking on top of everything else. And then we can watch a movie or whatever you want to do."

"I need to shower, I feel disgusting." Steve nodded and was about to wheel her down to her room. "No, give me the crutches. I'm not an invalid" Steve rolled his eyes and handed her the crutches. He didn't attempt to help her to her feet, he knew she wouldn't let him. He watched her hobble down the hall to her bedroom. He opened a few drawers in her kitchen until he found some menus and pulled them out to decide what to get them for dinner.

Behind the door of her bathroom, Nora let a sob escape from her mouth. She was trying so hard to keep her emotions tucked inside, but after what had just happened she was floored. Aliens, Gods, more aliens. She had no idea what she would have done if she had lost her Uncle. She let her tears flow as she hobbled over to her dresser and pulled out a grey t-shirt and a pair of lavender and grey striped shorts. She struggled for a few moments to figure out how to get changed. She couldn't put any pressure on her leg without horrifying pain. She took a deep breath to center herself and went to the door. "Steve?" she called out. She heard his heavy foot steps and soon he was at her door. "Can you see if you can get Nat or Pepper in here?"

"Nat isn't here, she's at SHEILD. Pepper is doing a press conference right now. Are you okay?" Nora didn't want to open the door for Steve to see her tear stained face.

"I just." She paused. "I can't get changed to get into the shower."

"Do you...do you want my help?" Nora groaned. She didn't want to wait until Pepper would be done. It could be hours. She'd have to swallow her pride and let him help her. She wiped her face as best she could and opened the door. "Nora...you're crying." She clearly she hadn't done a good enough job.

"I'm fine." She stepped back so Steve could walk in. He enveloped her in a hug. She stood there shocked for a moment and then hugged him back and then she felt the damn of tears burst open. He slipped his arm behind her knees and picked her up like she was a feather and walked over to her bed so they could sit. He held her as she cried. "I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m so damn emotional” She sobbed. "I don't normally break down and cry in front of people. I just..."

"Shhh...don't you dare apologize. And don't hold this all in. I've got you. You're safe with me. These past couple of days have been a lot.” Nora took a deep breath. They sat like that for a while. Nora across Steve’s lap as he had his arms wrapped around her torso and hers around his neck. Finally Nora pulled back.

“I really need to shower but I need help.” Her face turned pink.

“I can help you. I won’t look. It’s okay.” Steve helped her stand up and into her bathroom. She grabbed a towel from her linen cabinet and set it on the counter. Steve opened her shower door and started the water. “How hot do you want it?”

“So hot it almost melts my face off?” Steve laughed.

“I’m not going to turn it that hot. You can adjust it once you get in.” Nora nodded.

“Okay, this is awkward, let’s just power through. I can’t balance to take my pants on or off.” Steve nodded. “I’m going to turn around. I feel like my bare ass is less embarrassing. I mean an ass is ass.”

“However you’re most comfortable “‘Steve laughed. Nora turned around and pulled her t-shirt off and threw it in the hamper. Steve felt his mouth go dry. Nora felt his hands on her hips. “Okay I’m going to slide them off.” Nora nodded. She felt the heat burning on her cheeks. She felt like someone was blowing bubbles in her stomach. She was painfully aware of how firm Steve was holding her waste. His calloused hands were hot against her skin. Suddenly she was painfully aware that she was completely naked. “Can you step in by yourself?” Nora nodded unable to speak. She stepped in and quickly shut the door behind her. “I’m going to go back into your room. The towel is right here. Call me when you’re ready for me.

“Okay. Thanks Steve.” Nora felt her heart pounding.

“Of course. I’ll be right outside”. Steve ran his hands down his face. He spent the entire time thinking of the most non-sexual thoughts he could to avoid being turned on. He was attracted to Nora, she was beautiful, but there was something about her that was magnatizing.

He looked around her room. The walls were a grayish purple. The room wasn’t as big as he thought it would be, but it was still bigger than any room he had ever slept in. There was a slanted ceiling near the bathroom that created a large alcove where an oak roll top desk and chair was located. She had a matching chest of drawers that matched the desk as well as a large bookshelf that was loaded with books. Nora being a bookworm made him smile. Her king sized bed was in the middle of the room with an oak nightstand on one side and on the other was an elaborate lamp. It was built like a tree and was covered with glass flowers that all had tiny light bulbs in the middle. There was a smaller black lamp on the night stand.

Parallel to the wall with the door was a set of glass french doors with trim painted the black. It led out to a substantial balcony. Steve imagined Nora spent a lot of time out there. Her glanced over at her bluish purple bed spread that was a soft chenille. It was simple and loaded with pillows. He wondered how she fit in the bed with that many pillows. He walked over to the bookshelf and took a picture off to study it. It had

to be her parents. Grant was the spitting imagine of Howard Stark, even more than Tony. He knew the woman was her mother, although her hair was blonde it hung in spirals like Nora’s. She also had the same captivating sea green eyes as her daughter. Next to that was a picture of an older Howard and he assumed Maria who was holding a little bundle he was sure was Nora. Steve knew they didn’t live much longer after the picture had been taken. He glanced at a few photos of Nora and Grant. There was one of Nora, maybe 12, with Pepper. There was then an onslaught of photos of Nora and Tony. Ones with a young Tony and a toddler Nora. He saw her grow up in the photos. Her High School graduation, prom, a Christmas photo. Despite all of her loss, Tony has given her the best life possible. Not with his money, but with how much he loved her. The pride in his eyes in each photo jumped out at you. His favorite picture was of her and Tony, she was holding a cello and happiness was radiating from her.

Steve jumped and put the photo with back when he heard the bathroom door open. Nora hobbled out wearing her towel and holding her clothes. “I’m all done.” Her voice was quiet and sheepish.

“Here, sit down on the edge of the bed.” Steve helped her over as she sat. He took the black cotton boy short panties and slid them up to her knees and did The same with her shorts. “If you stand will you be able to pull them up the rest of the way?” Nora nodded. Steve tried to ignore her blazingly red face. “Okay, I’ll help you stand and then you can finish getting dressed. Your crutches are right there on the bed.” Steve helped her stand and then headed towards her door.

“Steve?” He heard her say in almost a whisper. “Thank you.” He nodded at her with a smile and headed back out to the living room.

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Nora used her crutches to get back out to the main area. Her large apartment started with an open floor plan. The substantial kitchen and living room were what you saw when you walked in. Dark hardwood floors throughout. Parallel to her door was a long hallway with 5 doors. On the right hand side was first the guest bedroom and the master bedroom at the end of the hall. On the other side there were two more doors with a half bath in the middle. Each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“So I ordered some pizza and wings. I figured it was a safe bet.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not really hungry to be honest.”

“You definitely have to eat Nora. All of that medicine will kill your stomach.” She nodded and hobbled over to the living room. She had a large taupe microfiber couch with ottoman at each end and two over sized chairs on each side. There was an antique looking entertainment center and above it, mounted to the wall was a large flat screen TV. About 6 feet back from the couch was a large wooden table with a marble top. It had a long bench on the side closest to the wall with 3 large chairs Across from it and 2 on each end. There was a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Across from the large table right next to the windows was a baby grand piano. Nora sat on the couch propping her leg up on the ottoman.

“You really don’t have to stay Steve. I’ll be fine.” Nora finally said. Steve had been studying her profile after she sat down. She looked overwhelmed and slightly sad.

“I know you’d be fine but you really shouldn’t be alone. Something could happen and you’re not at 100%. Unless you don’t want me here, I could call Nat.”

“No that’s not it. I just feel bad that I’m hijacking your life.” Steve walked over and sat next to Nora and faced her.

“You’re not hijacking anything. There’s no place else I’d rather be.” His warm smile set her at ease. His hand was next to hers and she linked her pinky with his. Steve was amazed that a tiny little touch could send his heart racing. Before either of them could say or do anything else there was a knock on the door. Steve jumped up to open it and was greeted by Tony’s confused face. He walked past Steve into the apartment. Steve could tell he was trying to appear uninjured but his movements said otherwise. Even after a few days since the battle his face was bruised up.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here Cap.” Tony glanced over his shoulder with a knowing look at Steve. He looked guilty and Nora looked flustered.

“Uh Dr. Banner had some stipulations on letting Nora out of the med bay so I told him I’d stick around to help.”

“Jarvis- have some clothes sent over for the Captain if he’s staying here. Don’t need him smelling up the place.” Tony ordered his A.I. He smiled at Nora and kissed her on the cheek and sat down next to her. “Hi babydoll, how’s my girl?” Steve stepped into the kitchen to give them some privacy. He sat at the large island on one of the stools. The marble top on the island and the rest of the counters matched the table. The color of the cabinets matched the color of her furniture. Her french door refrigerator and 6 burner stove as well as the dish washer were black. He looked at the walls of the entire area. The color was a very pale turquoise. Almost so pale it was white. One wall on the living room side behind the table and piano was exposed brick. Her tastes were simple and clean.

“I’m okay. Really tired still. How are you? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Oh honey I’m fine. I’ve had worse than this.”

Nora gave him a skeptical look. “I came over once I heard you were back over here to see if you wanted to stay on my floor so you weren’t alone, but I see you aren’t.”

“You need to take care of yourself and not worry about me. You fell out of the sky!”

“Banner broke my fall.” Tony gave his signature smirk. “But I see you’re in good hands here so I’m going to head back over before Pepper comes hunting for me. Call me if you need anything.” Tony kissed her forehead. “Love you Nori. Keep that leg up and don’t try to over do it.”

“Ditto, on all accounts.” She smiled adoringly up at her Uncle. He gave her a shrug.

“My legs are fine.” He turned to Steve and nodded “Captain.” After a second glance, he headed out the door.

Steve managed to get Nora to eat a piece of pizza and a couple of wings. He took it as a victory. He walked back over to the couch and handed Nora her antibiotics and some of her pain medication. She swallowed it quickly with her water. Steve sat down next to her as she picked another movie.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t we call it a night.”

“I don’t want to sleep” Nora confessed.

“You need some rest. It’ll help you heal.”

“If I sleep, I’ll dream and I’d like to avoid that.” Concern was draped over Steve’s face.

“Nightmares?”

“Among other things.”

“Here lean forward.” As Nora moved he slid behind her so she could rest her torso on his and stretch her legs out across the couch. It took Nora a moment to settle back, taken by surprise. Once she was resting against him Steve covered them with the large blanket that was on the back of the couch. “Rest, go to sleep. If you start having a nightmare I’ll wake you up.” Nora nodded and then started the movie. About 15 minutes after the movie started her head fell back against Steve’s shoulder. Steve leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the sweet smell of Nora’s shampoo helping him drift off to sleep.

[intothedanvers-e]

Journey

Word Count: 1.1k Pairing: Tom Holland x reader Summary: Sometimes it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey. Author’s Note: for anyone who missed the first two parts, that this is a 5 part series i wrote where each part is based on/inspired by one song off each one direction album. this second part is based on/inspired by Why Don’t We Go There off of Midnight Memories! also just for anyone thats curious, yes i did just press shuffle on each album and wrote down the song that came on! hope you continue to like it! the next two parts are some of the fluffiest shit ive ever written so i hope yall are looking forward to that ;) if youd like to be tagged in the remaining two parts let me know! :) any and all feedback is appreciated!

Here’s my masterlist!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

You sat in the car with your arms crossed pretending to be mad, but couldn’t help but smile every time Tom peeked over at you. He showed up at your apartment today and said to grab the essentials because he was taking you on surprise dates, yes dates. You were worried and intrigued. It had been a few months since you two started dating and it was the best, well at least when you knew what the hell was going on.

“You’ll like it babe, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. You knew he hated when you were mad, and you weren’t actually mad but you loved teasing him. He intertwined his hand with yours, and you finally relaxed into your seat.

An hour and a half later you were pulling up to a nice hotel overlooking the ocean. He pulled up to the front door and got out, stopping only to open the car door for you.

“Thomas you didn’t tell me to pack clothes, what the hell am I going to wear?”

“Don’t even worry about it I got Jen to pack a bag with your favorite things in it and we can go into town and buy anything if you need it. The next three days are going to be dedicated to you, me, and relaxing.��

You were tense and anxious, but the way he smiled at you made every worry melt away. You were actually looking forward to it.

“Okay fine. You’re the best,” you said pulling him in for a kiss.

“Now let’s get all checked in so we can go to the beach.”

He pulled you behind him as he excitedly walked to the front desk. Soon enough you were walking into a room with an amazing view overlooking the entire beach, you could even see the pier. He threw a pillow at your head to get your attention.

“What the hell!”

“C’mon get changed, we don’t have time to be drooling over the view my love. If you change quickly, that could be us down there.”

You rolled your eyes and threw the pillow back at him before running off into the bathroom to change.

You walked hand in hand on the hot sand. You loved the beach and were excited to just sit and enjoy the sun and the water with your boyfriend. You let him pick out a spot near the water and lay out towels for the both of you. You really wanted to take a quick dip in the water, but he dropped to his stomach and pulled out a book.

“You brought me to the beach to watch you read?”

He giggled.

“I’m trying to gain some color, don’t think I should be blending in with white walls when I’m shirtless.”

“Your loss,” you said walking away from him.

You splashed around in the water for a bit, even going a few steps in and dunking your entire body. You let the cool water flow over you, you’d forgotten what it was like to be in complete relaxation mode. You laid down close enough so that the tail end of the waves would reach you and closed your eyes. Suddenly you felt someone lay down next to you. You opened your eyes, and saw Tom shivering as he was trying to adjust to the cool water.

“What are you doing?”

“You looked so calm, thought I’d come and join you.”

“Did you just leave our stuff alone?”

“Shhh, don’t think about that. Right now its just you and me and the ocean. That’s it.”

You smiled and held his hand.

“You’re still worried about whether someone is going to steal our stuff aren’t you?”

You turned to him and nodded your head.

“S’alright. I locked the bag, have the key right here,” he said holding up a tiny ring with a small key hanging on it.

“My hero,” you said laying your head back onto the sand.

A few hours later the two of you were seated in a tiny table in the corner of a small Italian restaurant. It was crowded with people, but as Tom sat across from you talking about something dumb you couldn’t even think about anyone else in the room. They called your order number and Tom got up to go get the tray of food. He walked back with both of your plates of pasta.

“Wish we could live like this forever.”

“Me too, could you imagine having pasta that looks this good everyday?”

“Wasn’t what I meant but that too,” he said laughing.

“Well surely you didn’t mean going to a tiny restaurant filled with loud people everyday did you?”

“I’d go anywhere so long as I got to be with you.”

You enjoyed your dinner in the noisy buzz of the other hungry customers, talking about everything and nothing. You felt the same exact way, you just didn’t know how to put it into words.

You got home and showered, slipping on your comfiest pj’s before climbing into bed. You were getting comfy when suddenly Tom pulled out one of his arms and pulled you into his chest. You laughed and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You better be planning a shower if you’re planning on being this close to me all night,” you said poking his nose with your finger.

“Marry me.”

You studied his face to see if he was joking. His facial expression wasn’t changing one bit.

“What?”

“Alright well surely this isn’t a good sign,” he said getting up.

“I just need to know if you’re being serious.”

He turned his back to you as he was grabbing stuff out of his duffel bag.

“Well at this point I’m just glad I didn’t buy that ring you saw in the jeweler’s window earlier.”

He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. A few minutes later he walked out, you were sitting up in the bed.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I’ll marry you. On one condition.”

He turned to look at you, he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not. He nodded his head.

“Let’s set our date for 5 years from now.”

“Five years?”

“Yup. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you, have 5 dogs with you, have the house with the white picket fence with you. But we’ve only been dating for a few months and I don’t want to jinx it. I want to get there with you, but I want to take small steps not just one big hop.”

He jumped on top of you and planted kisses all over your face.

“Deal.”

You kissed him on the lips and smiled at him.

“Let’s move in together.”

He lifted himself up and nodded.

“Oh thank god, my lease is up this month and I kind of told Harrison I was moving in with you already.”

“You’re an awful person you know that?”

“But you love me.”

You held his cheeks with both of you hands and smiled.

“I do.”

Taglist: @tom-hollands-eyelash @colourful-fandoms-ruined-my-blog @lemirabitur @serpent-tea @ironspiderguy @embrace-themagic @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @melancholland @musicgirl234 @hollands99 @all-the-best-people-are-weird @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @pignolithecookie @elentiya02 @densewaffle @steveandtheavengers @certifiedmarvel @hollandlovely

[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (12 of 34?)

Chapter 1 Chapter 11

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :)

“Oh Killian.”

Awakened first by the door opening and then more fully by the complex emotions in his wife’s voice, Killian groggily lifted his hand in her direction… only to be reminded of his dire situation by the clank of handcuffs against the metal railing. He grimaced a sheepish apology.

“Hello, love. You made it, then. How was the drive?”

She stopped just out of reach. The twitching of her fingers betrayed how badly they itched to reach out and comfort him, assure her he was actually there in front of her, promise them both a happy resolution to the predicament. Her expression was a rigid neutral, but he could see the loving softness in her eyes.

“They weren’t even going to let me see you. Had to pull some strings.” She scoured his body for injury, but the gruesome wound on his leg had been cleaned and covered with a thick bandage once the pain medication had taken effect. “You okay?”

“Aye.”

There was no need for him to protest his innocence to her. He knew that she knew. And that’s all that mattered. Still, there was so much he wished he could tell her, if only the pesky guard officer would leave them alone. If only he knew for sure they weren’t being recorded. If only…

Killian could do nothing but sigh in frustration. To have her so close, and unable to touch… it was pure torture. His fingers tingled to wrap around hers, his lips burned with the need to kiss.

“Not quite the reunion I’d imagined,” he admitted with a sad smile. Emma’s answer was equally rueful.

“It’ll be okay, Killian. We’ll fix this mess.”

He nodded in a display of confidence beyond what he actually felt. “Do you know what’s become of… er… my cousin?”

Killian tried to use his eyes to convey the importance of having her play along. Emma’s brow creased in the slightest of confused frowns. Mystified, she mouthed, Cousin? before shaking her head.

“No. Sorry.”

Quietly, Killian voiced his concerns. “They haven’t told me they’ve done with her, and you know how she gets.” He raised a prompting eyebrow, and Emma nodded.

“Oh. Right. I’ll… see what I can find out. Can’t promise they’ll let me back in with news, though.”

“That’s okay, Swan. I’ll feel better knowing she’s got an ally in you.”

He had really hoped to break the news to her gently. Under different circumstances…. Any other circumstances, really. But Marvel didn’t deserve continued distress, and she would recognize Emma. At least then she wouldn’t feel completely abandoned.

“Time’s up, sheriff,” intoned the guard, and Emma’s expression flattened; Killian could immediately recognize her usual reaction to strong emotion whenever she thought she wasn’t in a good place to express it. He bit his lip, feeling horrible that he was the source of that angst, no matter how innocent he actually was.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

She tried to smile, but the result was a sad shadow of her normal sunshine. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She blew him a kiss. “Love you, Killian. See you soon.”

“I love you, Emma.”   

He couldn’t even return the gesture. And the ache in his heart was killing him.

Because of his injury and the necessity of IV therapy, Killian was not sent to jail to await arraignment; instead, they admitted him to the hospital for the night. Late afternoon found him in a private room with a guard posted by the door and a cuff around his ankle, securing him to the bed rail. He wasn’t sure if the latter was a concession to his disability, or a sign that they considered him not to be a danger to the nurses that were in and out checking on him. Either way, Killian was grateful to have his hand free.

He wasn’t allowed any visitors apart from his lawyer, a disturbingly young man who hadn’t yet mastered the poker face needed to conceal his obvious belief in Killian’s guilt. Killian confirmed his intention to plead ‘not guilty’ and did not avail himself of the opportunity to ask any questions. Alone again, he spent the rest of the afternoon worrying at the TV, nodding off from drug-induced drowsiness, and fighting the need to visit the restroom every 15 minutes - a process which required nurse assistance and direct guard supervision and was much more trouble than it was worth. But the saline being pumped into him had to go somewhere.

What would they have done with Marvel? Fed and clothed her, presumably. But then what? Was it at all reasonable to hope that she’d been discharged into Emma’s care? Knowing that she was his wife and thus put Marvel at risk of unwilling contact with him after his release? Killian prayed that, wherever she was, she wasn’t too confused or afraid, or feeling like he had deserted her.

He missed her. Emma, too, of course - gods, what he wouldn’t give to have his wife snuggled next to him right now - but that was expected. He and Marvel, though, had just met. They had spent less than 24 hours together, by his reckoning. Very eventful hours, to be sure, but… somehow she had become so precious to him in that time, and he missed having her by his side. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

Killian spent the night in an odd mixture of stressed wakefulness and deep, drugged sleep, until dawn roused him squarely into a state of hungover listlessness. He was more nervous than he thought he would be over the day’s court proceedings. They would not be determining his fate... at least, not beyond the amount of money required to release him on bail. It must be old habits. No pirate could be thrilled by the prospect of appearing before a magistrate, under any circumstances.

Morning rounds brought a physician to check his progress. And Killian was doubly grateful for the narcotics during the exam and bandage change. Apparently satisfied by whatever could be gleaned from the appalling sight, the doctor gave orders for a switch to oral medications and discharge home - or, in this case, to the courthouse and then home. Hopefully.

A nurse removed his IV and helped him into a correctional facility jumpsuit, which had to be a size larger than preferable in order to accommodate the bandage on his leg. And then it was simply a matter of awaiting the court's pleasure. Thankfully, the Friday docket was light, and Killian found himself being wheeled to a transport vehicle before 10 am.

The trip was short and quickly forgotten in Killian’s preoccupation with their approaching destination. The attorney had explained what was to happen, and Killian had had a vague notion anyway, although their ‘courthouse’ in Storybrooke could in no way be considered reflective of the rest of the country. Beyond the occasional villain cropping up every so often, crime tended to be minor, and Judge Hart of Wonderland only rarely suggested beheading as an appropriate punishment.

As he was wheeled through the door and into the courtroom, Killian’s gaze immediately found Emma in the audience, before he took in anything else. Her mere presence worked wonders, bolstering his confidence and soothing his anxiety. He flashed her a wry smile, which she returned instantly, projecting calm reassurance, weariness, and a bit of annoyance at the situation. But knowing she was there - that she had his back, no matter the outcome - made all the difference.

The proceedings were over before he knew it, and apparently, Emma’s presence also influenced the judge, who released Killian on his own recognizance without even requiring bail. A surprised but grateful Killian was then returned to the patrol car and the court moved on.

All that remained then was a quick return to the hospital to fill out discharge papers and collect his prescriptions. He would be required back in Newburyport at some later date for meetings with the lawyer and a trial, if it proceeded that far. But for now, he was free. And all he wanted was to throw himself into Emma’s embrace… and then reunite with his ship incarnate, wherever she may be.

[motherof4dragons]

Sample Chapter

I've been writing fan fiction, but I recently started a fan fic that I really enjoyed the premise of.  I thought I could really do something with it outside of the fandom.  I read a ton, and did some research on 2nd chance fictions and friends to lovers stroeis and I think this would be pretty unique in the genre.  

So I stripped the story of all of the original content that connected it to the fandom and tried to write a first chapter, or first several chapters depending on size for a "real" book.  Please tell me if it's ok, and if it is too closely resembling it's origin content.  I'm purposefully leaving out any tags so that maybe someone who doesn't normally know what I write about can read it hopefully not draw the connections to the fandom.  Does that make sense?  Try to read it as if you just picked the book up off of Kindle's 1.99 list.

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

May 2018

I’m in the middle of discussing today’s surgery with my patient and her family when I hear my phone and my pager go off simultaneously.  That’s never a good sign.  Giving my patient my best Anderson smile, I look at my pager, then swipe across the front of my phone.  Both alert me to the same thing.

MASS SHOOTING ETA 15 minutes out.

I learned long ago to turn the news alerts off on my phone, otherwise I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my day without worrying about what my day could turn into.  So 15 minutes out for us means the shooting probably started a half hour to an hour ago, which means I need to get a move on it.

 I turn back to my patient and her family and put an end to our pre-op conversations.

“Excuse me guys, I am so sorry. It looks like we may have to put todays surgery on hold, there’s been an emergency. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” I pat my patient on her back, shake her husband’s hand and leave the room as quickly as I can.

Heading out of the patient’s room and to the nurse’s station, I put the tablet back on the charging station then head to the surgery board where I know everybody will be meeting. Sean, though not technically our chief of staff anymore, is up front leading the charge.

“Ok people, we have a mass casualty event. Shooting at the mall. We can expect the majority of the victims to come to us. We don’t have an estimate yet as to how many that may be, but it sounds like he got a lot of rounds off before he was taken down by a civilian. The ambulances are waiting on the all clear to start scooping them up. I want OR’s 1-5 on constant rotation. Don’t take the time to make it pretty people, get in and get out. All elective and non-emergent surgeries have been cancelled and the patients that can be are being discharged. Move all non-critical ER patients to the clinic. The blood bank is sending up all available units. I want every available surgeon in the pit in 5. Get a move on it.”

I’m a reconstructive surgeon.  I trained as a plastic surgeon, but I really dislike that title.  I don’t work with plastic.  I work with people.  That’s not to say that plastic doesn’t have its place.  I think every human has the right to feel good about themselves, and if that means a person needs a boob job or a butt implant, then the more power to them.  And that’s not to say that I don’t still do the occasional ‘plastics’ job.  Liposuction keeps the lights on as my old mentor used to say.  But my specialty is reconstructive surgery.  I take something that was once beautiful, but damaged due to life and circumstance, and make it beautiful once again.  I specialize in burn victims and gender reaffirmation surgeries.  Two of the toughest life events any person will ever have to face. I’m to the point in my career where I can pick and choose what surgeries I want to do, so I do the occasional pro-bono cleft palate surgery to make the soul feel good too.  I’m a board certified ENT as well, but that really only falls into play with burn victims, and the occasional hard intubation in the emergency room. But no matter their specialty, a surgeon is still a surgeon. And a requirement for working at a hospital like Riley’s Memorial is that you have to be proficient in trauma.  We’re the largest hospital in the state, with a trauma and burn department that is world renown.  If you get severely hurt in the state of Colorado, there’s a large possibility that you’ll end up with us.

Noah takes the time to swing by his locker to hang his coat up then heads  down to the pit.

--

 “Anderson, have you talked to Lizzy today?” Sean stops and sticks his head into the trauma room Noah is just finishing up in. Superficial injuries, but she cut herself pretty bad on something running away from the shooting, and had an eight inch laceration that required stitched. Normally I would have a resident or intern do it, but it’s in a pretty visible spot, and I wanted it done right.  Every wound I can repair properly now is one I won’t have to go back in to fix at a later date.

“No, why?”

“Because several of the victims are saying they were triaged on scene by someone who says they were a doctor.”

“So what?”

“A redheaded female doctor.”

Elizabeth Marie Stewart, former trauma surgeon and current Assistant Department Head of Public Health.  She also happens to be the mother of my children, my ex-wife, and the probable love of my life.  And yes, she is a red headed female doctor.

We’ve gotten the first wave of ambulances emptied and into the emergency department. I did notice that some patients have the trauma triage color codes written on their bodies, but I just assumed that they didn’t have the tags at the scene.  However, that’s a trick they use out in the field in the military, and both Sean and I know it.

The chances of that being Lizzy are pretty small, but I snap off my gloves and pull my phone out of my pocket anyways. We just went to church together with Lillian this past weekend. She didn’t mention going to the mall this week, but then why would she. We may share a daughter, and since her accident, we’re back to being good friends, but long gone are the days where I got daily reports of her plans and movements.

After 4 rings it goes to her voicemail. “Hey Liz It’s me. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but there was a shooting at the mall, I’m sure you’ll have heard about it by the time you get this, And I bet you’ll get a kick out of this but some of the patients are saying they were triaged by a redheaded dr. So now I’m worried about you. Call me back."

Thought of her at that mall, despite how improbable that may be makes my heart speed up a little. I decide to shoot her a text too.

Noah: Hey. Mass shooting at the mall. Check in with me please.

I debate sending a text to her husband, but I think Lizzy said he’s out of town, so I put my phone back in my pocket and try to shake it off, then head back into the fray.

  --

“Next wave coming in guys!”

I’m in the middle of assessing a middle aged man with a gunshot wound to the thigh, through and through. Whoever is on the scene knows what they were doing, that’s for sure. The patient’s own belt is wrapped around his upper leg to stem the blood loss and the words “yellow tag” were written in blue ink across his forearm. He told a more exaggerated story of the redheaded angel running into the middle of the bloodshed single handedly saving every person she touched.  The guy is seriously smitten.  It’s one of the more extreme versions of the story of the red head I’ve heard today, and I’ve heard variations of the same thing from multiple sources over the last hour.  The more we hear, the more I’m afraid it may really be Lizzy.  She hasn’t replied back to my messages yet.

And then he hears Her.

“22 yr old female, 3 gun shot wounds to the right arm, hip and thigh. Approx. 2 liters blood loss in the field. 2 large bore ivs placed in route. Her driver’s license states she’s o+ so let’s get a trauma panel, type and cross match and get blood hung. We also gave 4 of morphine. She’s passed out but she’s going to hurt like a bitch when she comes to. I need ortho in here stat, her pelvis is probably shattered. Get me x-rays and then let’s get her up to an OR. And someone find me a pair of scrubs please.”

Lizzy’s voice is authoritative and electric. The sound of it issuing out commands flashes me back to ages before. The ER is her domain, even if she hasn’t stepped foot in it for over 2 years. I can’t see her, but I can see the ER’s response to her. Residents and nurses that know her are scattering in different directions to obey her orders. The interns in the room with me are watching the chaos in awe, this stranger who can waltz in and command everyone’s immediate obedience. She yells out louder than the other orders, “also someone find Davis to give me privileges!” I look up and meet Emma’s eyes to see my grin echoed on her face. “Stewart’s back” she says and snaps her gloves off to go help Lizzy.

Emma takes two steps out of the trauma room and freezes. “Shit” she says with passion, then quieter, “Noah.”

I move to where she is standing, and feel the grin melt off my face and my blood run cold. Lizzy is in skinny jeans and what may have once been a lighter colored t shirt. Her red medusa like hair is piled on her head in a messy bun with hair streaming down around her face. And Lizzy is covered head to foot in blood and gore. While most of it probably isn’t hers, some of it obviously is. She has a bandage wrapped haphazardly around her left upper arm, and there is a small trickle of blood still dripping down off of her bent elbow. She’s wearing gloves, but it’s apparent from the distorted color of them that there is just as much blood inside the gloves as outside.  Seeing the blood all over her body, I feel all the blood drain completely out of mine.

“Lizzy, oh my god Lizzy were you shot?”  Emma’s the first to react, moving towards Lizzy and the patient.

She looks down at her arm like she’d forgotten about it and shrugs, hands still on the patient.

“It was just a flesh wound. Noah, can you call the nanny and have her pick up Lillian today?  Have them go back to your house. Nathan and River are going to be at his parents’ house for the rest of the week still. I told the paramedics on scene to send all non-critical to St. Mary’s Hospital so that we could concentrate on the critical. The first paramedics to arrive tried to give me push back until Warren showed up, then they let me control the scene. Where’s my ortho consult?”

I’m standing there looking at her like an idiot.  I hear her speaking, but for some reason none of it is computing in my mind.  She’s just so casual, like this is an everyday occurrence.  Yes, rearranging childcare isn’t exactly a new situation, seeing how our entire community are either doctors or in the medical field.  But this, this catastrophe she just walked in with?  This certainly isn’t our normal operating method.  Wait a minute? Warren knew she was there and didn’t bother to give us a heads up? As soon as I see him I’m going to kick his fucking ass.

The sight of a nurse coming in with a set of black scrubs finally spurs me into motion, and I take them from her.

“Emma, take over the patient. Lizzy, come on, let’s get you stitched up.”

“Just throw some antiseptic on it and I’ll worry about it later.” The portable x-ray is in here now and she steps back, momentarily putting the safety coveralls on while the pictures are taken.  I cringe at the amount of blood I can now see on the inside of the x-ray shield.  It’ll need to be hosed down before it can be used again. And why am I worried about the x-ray shields?  I wonder if I’m going into shock just from the close contact of Lizzy. 

“ELIZABETH!”  I yell it out into the room, voice laced with all the fear and anger and frustration I possess and feel rather than see half the department stop and look at me.

When she finally turns to face me head on, her shoulders fall and her face softens. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but it makes her acquiesce to my request. She nods sharply and starts to remove her gloves, tossing them onto the floor with the rest of the trash.

Alex comes into the trauma room grinning, arms crossed over his chest, light on his feet despite the situation. “You know Stewart, if you missed us that much all you had to do was call. There was no need to get yourself shot.”

Lizzy returns his grin ear to ear. “You know me Davis, I like the drama. I’ll meet you guys upstairs, which OR?”

Davis’ eyes flick to me momentarily and I read the concern in them with years of practice. I nod, not giving my ok but acknowledging that I’ll take care of her.

“OR 4 should be ready for turnover in 20. I expect you clean and stitched before you enter my scrub room Stewart.”

“Sheesh Davis, the power’s gone to your head hasn’t it? Fine. Have ortho stabilize her before she goes up.”

We start to walk out of the trauma bays towards the elevator when we hear Davis call out “good to have to you back Stewart.”

--

We head into the attending’s locker room and I walk straight thru to the bathing area to turn on the shower. I put the scrubs on the counter and go back out into the locker area to find some soap and shampoo for her. She’s taking off her tennis shoes and examines them critically before tossing them into the corner. Her t-shirt comes off and goes straight into the trash. She has her hands on her jeans and is halfway thru pulling down the zipper when she looks at me. It takes her cocking her eyebrow at me before I realize I’m staring at her half naked. God she’s beautiful. But that’s not what I’m staring at, not really.

If our bodies are a road map, hers has taken some very painful turns.  I can see the faint outlines of her chest tube scars across her chest, upraised and evident with the goo coating her. I see the jagged c section scar low under her belly button above her panty line where our daughter was pulled from her body. The dried blood all over her torso is horrifying.  It’s left weird patterns on her skin as it’s dried through and from the contact of her clothing.  She almost looks like a walking Rorschach painting.   And I think, this is the third time she’s almost been taken from me. The thought makes me sick.

I put the bottles I took out if Amanda’s locker into the shower stall, then turn and pull her towards me. I embrace her harder then I mean to, and seeing as she’s married to another man, and half naked, it’s completely inappropriate, but I can’t let her go.  

“Noah? I know Noah, I know.”  She squeezes me back tight, then takes in a shaking breath herself.  “I can’t, I can’t fall apart yet Noah.  There’s still stuff to do.  We can’t fall apart yet.”  She sounds like she’s trying to separate herself from me but still, she doesn’t try to pull away and I tighten my hold just a little more.  She runs her hands soothingly over my back and I bury my nose in her hair. Even under all of the blood I can still smell her flowery conditioner.  “I’m alright Noah. I’m alright”  

When I feel myself on the verge of cracking, I let her go and quickly wipe the moisture from my eyes. “You shower, I’m going to go get a suture kit. We have about 15 minutes before they’ll be ready for you. I’m assuming you’re wanting to operate? You haven’t been in a surgery suite in a while.”

“I’ve kept all my certifications up to date and done more continuing education credits than I’m required to, due to boredom mainly.  I still do ride alongs on a quarterly basis.  And I think I proved today my trauma skills are still sharp."  She points at me before she resumes the removal of her pants.  "You need to change your scrubs too, you’re covered in blood now.” I look at myself and see that she’s right. Her blood covered imprint is now on my shirt.  It’s hard to tell from the dark color of the material, but I can see the strange patterns the blood has left on the fabric.

I decide to ignore the boredom statement, but push it into the back of my mind to consider later. “Ok. I’ll be right back.” I pull her to me one more time and kiss her forehead, blood and all, then leave the bathing area and shut the door behind me. I lean against the door after I shut it and try to gather my thoughts.  Lizzy, my Lizzy, was shot.  Never before have I been so happy we got Lillian into that fancy preschool. I don’t know what I would have done if they had both been there. The thought makes my knees weak. But there’s luck there for another reason too. There are a lot of people alive right now because Lizzy was in that mall today. If Lillian had been with her she would have been protecting her instead of helping all those people. She’s a hero.  Another wave of adrenalin or some other hormone shoots thru me, and I will myself to calm down.  I’ve felt on the verge of a panic attack since I first laid eyes on her, but she’s right.  Now is not the time.  We still have stuff to do today.  

Get yourself together Anderson. Scrubbing my hands vigorously over my head, I push off from the door and head out in search of a suture kit. When I see a supply cart, I grab supplies to draw some blood too. With that much blood mixing over her we’d better do some blood tests at well. Rapid HIV, blood counts, std’s, pregnancy, the works.  Oh god.  The thought of Lizzy pregnant makes me feel sick.  I let myself into the drug closet and grab the lidocaine and some pain killers, then head back into the lounge and place it all on the table. I’m getting everything set up with a bottle of water on the table for her when she comes back out of the shower.

To my surprise, she has the scrub bottoms on but not the scrub top. She has the towel wrapped around her torso, but they aren’t really made to wrap all the way around a woman’s curves, so there’s a damp line of bare skin showing from her shoulder to where the scrubs start low on her hip. She’s run her hair through the towel, and it is hanging damp down her back, wavy from the water instead of her usual beach curls. It’s darker that way, and I’m transported to a time when she would leave the bathroom like that, towel dried and damp, and climb naked into the bed we shared.

I have no idea what has gotten into me all of a sudden, and luckily she doesn’t seem to notice as she wanders over to the lockers. I should not be thinking of Lizzy this way. The only excuse I have is the stress and hormones pushing thru my system at the thought of her being hurt at that mall.

“I had to toss my bra, I couldn’t put that thing back on again, and I didn’t want to put the scrub top on until you stitched me up in case I got blood on it too. As you can see I kept the bandage on and it’s probably pretty gnarly under there. Emma used to keep a full change of clothes in her locker. Do you think she still does?” She pops the door open and bends down to the bag in the bottom. “Aha” she says, so I assume she found what she was looking for. “Don’t peek” she says, then drops the towel after she moves so that her back is facing the door. She puts the bra on upside down and backwards in the way that women do, and begins to rotate it to the front. I do the complete opposite of not peeking and stare at her as I have been since she walked into the ER this morning until I feel my cock start to twitch, then I quickly avert my eyes.

When she comes and sits at the table with me, I find that looking at her with Emma’s bra on is worse than seeing her bare back and sides. Whereas Lizzy always favored bras with the firm cups that offered extra support, this bra is low and lacy, and I can see the outline of her nipples thru the thin fabric.

Clearing my throat, I hand her the Tylenol and the water bottle and wrap the band around her good arm to draw her blood.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?”

”No.  Definitely not.”  I ignore the wave of relief that passes through me at her firm assurance.  I tell myself it’s just because I hate the thought of her endangering an unborn child with her stunt today and not because I hate the idea of her having another man’s baby.

”I’m going to test for everything ok?”  Her only response is a nod.

That done, I turn her to the side so that I have access to her bad arm as it rests on the table.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Well really, this is all your fault.”

“MY fault?! How so?”

“Well, you know Lilly starts dance class next week. And I was going to go to payless to get her tap and ballet shoes, and then I heard your voice in my head going ‘really Liz, Payless?’ So I went to that specialty store in the mall that costs 4 times as much for the exact same thing.”

I scoff at her, then tell her “This is going to burn” As I unwrap her arm.  She was right about it being gnarly. I know from past experience that she has a high pain tolerance, but she must have a pain tolerance thru the roof, because the wound is ugly and jagged, and deeper than I feel comfortable with. It’s more a thru and thru than a graze in my opinion, but there doesn’t appear to be any muscle compromise, and she’s obviously been using it ok. I grab the antiseptic to clean in.  I nod my head in her direction and tell her, “Go On.” Her face pinches tight for a minute, but whether it’s from the pain or the story I don’t know.

“I was in line to pay when it started. I heard the first shot and froze, unsure about what I was hearing, but then the next started rapid and close together and there was no doubt. I dropped my bag onto the register counter and told the clerk to go hide in the back room. She told me to come with her, but I knew there’d be injured. I’m a war trained trauma surgeon so…” She trails off and shrugs again, then winces. With the adrenalin fading I bet she’s starting to feel it more now.

“I grabbed a sharpie I saw on the counter, and started heading towards where everyone was leaving. He started in the food court I think. It’s a weekday, so it’s not as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough. I was able to hug the wall and inch towards where it was coming from. There were two civilians, ex-military from the look of them, doing the same thing. They told me to scram, but I told them I was an army surgeon, and if there were wounded I was going to help. I couldn’t get too close to the action for fear of being shot myself, but when he started strolling, he was just walking as calm as could be Noah, like he didn’t have a care in the world.  That was more disconcerting than him opening fire.  He didn’t seem mad, or insane.  He was just going for a stroll in the mall.  With a bag full of automatic weapons.”

Aa a trauma center, we often see the results from the worse of humanity.  I’ve treated rape victims and rapists.  Assault victims and people arrested for murder.  This isn’t even our first face to face with an active gunman.  But this time feels different.  And hearing her retell the story to me is haunting.

“He was going the opposite direction from us, so I started darting in and pulling wounded to the side, triaging as I went. I used the marker to tag them as I felt appropriate, did what I could to stop the bleeding or ease the patient with what little I had, which was nothing of course, and went on to the next one. Ike and Mike we’ll call them, split, one on either side of the corridor, so when he dropped both guns to grab another pair they went at him from both sides. That’s when I got hit. He got a spray off as he was being brought down and I’d gotten too close pulling a victim with an abdominal wound to safety. They broke his arm. Bad.”

“Good.” Somehow I managed to keep my hands steady through her story despite my heart rate racing and my system flooding with adrenalin. So she didn’t just happen to be close to the shooting. She ran into it. The fucking mother of my children ran towards gunfire with no regard for her, her children or anyone who cares about her. I close my eyes and take a hissing breath in through my nose, trying to calm my raging emotions.  I place my hands flat on the table for a moment to try to center myself.  I can feel her watching me.  This is going to be a make or break moment between us.  If I react wrong, this could end very badly.  I pull my composure out of the surgeons vault, and when I reach for my supplies again my hands are steady.  I can actually see some of the tension leave her body at my choice not to throw down with her right now.

“Here comes the stitching.” I’m going to kill her with my bare hands. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my entire life, and lord knows Lizzy’s done a lot to piss me off over the years. Her phone rings, and she picks it up and hits ignore. 20 seconds later it’s ringing again. Releasing a big sigh, she answers it this time. Her voice is overly perky and it takes me off guard for a minute, helping to calm my raw nerves.

“Yea I heard about that. Crazy huh? No no, of course we’re ok. I was thinking about going to the hospital though and seeing if they need any help.” There’s a lull in her side of the conversation here, and I can tell by the tightening of her posture that whatever being said is making her less than happy. “Of course, no, you’re right, they don’t need me. Yea. Ok. You too.” She puts her phone down and turns her face to me giving me a half smile.

“I’ve been contemplating coming back to the hospital, have I told you that?” Her statement takes me by surprise. She hasn’t given me any indication that she was anything less than satisfied with her work at the clinic.  I wonder if she’s told anyone else this.

“Nathan, he doesn’t want me to. If I told him about all, this” and here she uses her free hand and wiggles it around in the air, indicating everything and nothing at once “He’d probably think I arranged the shooting on purpose.”

“Lizzy, he’s your husband. Don’t you think he’d want to know you’ve been hurt?”

“I’ll tell him later tonight. It’s not a big deal, and you took care of me.”  She says it with surety and confidence and fixes me with a sweet smile.  I’ll always take care of her. “Are we almost done?” She twists sideways to try to get a look at the wound. I could have done it a lot quicker, but I’m tired of seeing scars all over her body. So I took my time, and hopefully in a few months we’ll have only the faintest memory that this ever happened. I put some gauze over it, then a bandage over that, when wrap some of the double sided sticky wrap over top of all of that. The need to continue to touch her, to reassure myself that she is in fact ok is overwhelming, so I push her hair behind her ears and cup her face in my hand. Instead of pulling away, she leans into it, putting one of her hands over mine and closing her eyes, breathing in deep.  We stay that way for a few moments.  Breathing and ensuring each other of our presence.  But times a ticking and I’m sure they’ve started without her.

“Come oh trauma goddess, let’s get you to the OR.” I pull her to her feet, watch her put her top on, and then follow her out of the room.