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blueparadis · 1 year ago

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❝VOID❞ + JING YUAN.

+. CWs —» established relationship, arrange marriage, husband!jing yuan x wife!fem!reader, slowburn, a little worldbuilding, mutual pinning, smut, oral acts, he is so lovesick here it makes me cry. word count-3.5k (I'm in misery)

+. PRECIS —» Jing Yuan has picked up a new hobby ever since he married you and brought you to Xianzhou. He riles you up because of two reasons; one: he loves seeing your reactions and two: he relishes the thrill of appeasing you in various ways.

+. NOTES —» This is for @8kh. I've been wanting to write something for you for a long time and after reading your jing yuan i knew i he was the chosen one. I hope you really like this huntie. finding you on this hellsite is one of the best thing that has happened to me and i'm so grateful for you godly writing.

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Lately, Jing Yuan has been spending most of his time with Yanqing. Training him in fighting, teaching him about the history of lands and management, and sometimes tutoring him in case the official pedagogue was absent. Yanquing has been an integral part of his life. Ever since he brought you to his homeland by marrying you; you never complained just learned to get used to it. It was not like he was not giving you time, he was but more than you needed, more than you wanted. Jing Yuan just wanted to give you space because arrange marriages are not a match made in heaven. So, in his head, he was just being a patient husband.

The first few months were wasted due to too many rituals and traditions. Then, the night arrived that he was waiting for, like a hungry lion watching his prey grow bigger with each passing day. It was one of the best nights he had, both in terms of consummating the marriage and sleep. He is no master at things like this but he tried his best within his knowledge. He knew it bits and pieces. He was inexperienced. He was modest. He was gentle.

But lately, all he can think about is how he wants to pleasure you, be near you, and make you happy. He is relieved that he has Yanqing to occupy his time when he is away from you otherwise he would become someone you would definitely dislike. He has noticed how easily you blended in his household, with the workers, staff, commoners, and especially with Yanqing. No doubt he has grown fond of you. Sometimes when Jing Yuan was busy with wars and meetings he would occasionally spot Yanqing with you. It would make his chest tighten but at the same time lighten his heart seeing you are slowly adjusting, trying to fill the gap left by your homeland— which means you are trying to work this marriage out just like he wants, which means he can keep you, which means he can own you.

When he feels his chest contort in pain he while seeing you smile avoids you. For days. He does not know why and he is not bothered about it as long as you are happy, as long as your smile is intact. He thinks it must be the guilt of snatching you off from your home. You must miss your home, if not the people then the climate, the food, and so on. It pains him.

It really vexed you when he kept Yanqing busy during evenings with books and games when he should spend time with you to show you the ropes of palace management. And, late at night, when he comes crawling to you exhausted from his worldly affairs he becomes a little handsy, not that you mind but you wish he would rather tell you before showing you. At dawn you find yourself curling into his chest with one of his arms underneath your head as a pillow.

Tonight would be no exception. Yanqing was buried in books while the general was in his inner chambers. The sun has just bid goodbye to the sky. It is time for you to retire from your work too. You entered his room and found him nowhere so you strolled towards his bath lounge witnessing an odd thing. The general was soaking himself in the bathtub, the steam of hot water filling the room and a maid was applying soap in his shoulders.

It instantly made you sick to your stomach. The thing that was happening in front of your eyes seemed oddly familiar yet this is the first time you have ever witnessed him in such a poor display of taste. Oh! That's right. You have heard stories from your mother and read some too when you were young when you were not married.

Jing Yuan opened his eyes as the approaching footsteps came to a halt. “Well, this is a surprise.” He exclaims waving his hand towards the maid. But even before that she already stopped herself when she saw you and was ready to leave even before her master ordered to. Your husband did not fail to notice the gravity of your presence that affected her, and almost made her leave without her master's permission. As the maid left the bath lounge closing the door behind, Jing Yuan let out a short-lived soft chuckle. “It seems that my little sparrow is angry at me.” leaning his head at the edge of the tub closing his eyes.

Half a minute passed yet there was no response from you. When he opened his eyes again he could not see you. His eyes scanned the room and it stopped where you were fidgeting inside a cabinet. “Sorry to interrupt your bath, your Highness. I just came to take some of the bathrobes that I left last time.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. He hates it when you address him by those petty titles. Master, general, highness — he hates all of them. with a heap of silky robes in your hands you proceeded towards the exit.

“You could have asked some maid to do that.” His words made you pause. You turned around trying your best to keep up the poker face inhaling the stabbing sadness in your ribs. “I apologize my ... master. I'll keep that in mind. You will not be disappointed next time.” As those words escaped your mouth you could slowly come to terms with the reality, of what was happening. You have seen your mother shed enough tears to be aware of what feelings can do. It is common for a high-ranking male like your husband to own one or two, or maybe more concubines so it is best not to get too attached to him.

“Hmmm.” Jing Yuan speaks again, “Since you scared her away help me to clean.” There was no hint of kindness, just straightforward orders which was the only thing you had a hard time adjusting to since in you came here. His orders. His fucking annoying habit of barking orders. In your hometown, no one dared to bark orders like that but you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, it was just his force of habit.

“Yes. My ma—”

“Lion.” Jing Yuan corrected quirking one of his brows as your eyes snapped at him. “I prefer Lion.” He held your gaze. You sauntered towards his back breaking the eye contact, keeping those robes on the nearest shelf and picking up the soap to apply on his shoulders. Scrunching up your nose in disgust you hesitated before touching him. The memories of your mother crying and your father shouting at her were too frequent in your mind for you to focus on him. You closed your eyes before finally touching him but he grabbed your hands and when you opened your eyes by hearing splashes of water, he was already standing, naked, dripping with water.

The steam in the room had long faded.You felt your ears burn, cheeks heat up seeing him naked. You have seen him naked before during your first night but this is still embarrassing. When you finally looked at your husband he said, “You know what . . . I changed my mind.” with an upcurve at the corner of his lips. He stepped out of the tub.

“God! You’re so soaked. Let me grab you a towel otherwise, you’ll catch cold” Great. No honorifics. No modesty. Things did not go as Jing Yuan planned. Moreover, you are so sly at avoiding him. Maybe he really hit your nerves hard this time. You were about to turn with a towel in your hand but wet, toned muscular arms wrapped around your upper body.

“you looked like you were jealous.” He stated cooingly resting his chin on the crook of your neck, his member nudging the apex of your hips. Even through the fabric, you could feel your skin igniting with goosebumps. “She is just an ordinary maid. Don't fire her or punish her, okay love ?” He sounded apologetic and regretful, flawlessly hidden underneath his husky voice. You exhaled. You do not need his explanation nor he is obligated to give you one. With his position and wealth, he could have anything at any moment. Your title is nothing in front of his orders. The perpetual tapping sound broke you from the trance. He just undid the chain of buttons of the gown that you were wearing. You could see your reflection in the mirror and his amber eyes glued on you as started to slide his hand through the innerwear.

“I was not jealous.” You babbled feeling his fingers playing with the straps of your innerwear. Turning around you sat at his feat hoping to avoid his eyes and whatever he thought he could do by unbuttoning your dress. “I was just surprised, my lord. If you had told me about this, I would not have acted the way I did. I would not have embarrassed you. I would not dare. I am really sorry — Jing Yuan chinned up your face. Seeing tears settle at the corner of his eyes he cursed himself

Fuck! He really should not have played a prank on you like this. He thought you would get jealous just like other girls, and he would have handled you in his own way like men generally do. But seeing those tears was somehow satisfactory since he never thought he would mean so much to you; rather than being jealous you are hurt at the thought of losing him or having any woman by his side. He had stopped taking baths in the presence of others since he became a man and doing it just to get a reaction out of you was definitely not a good idea. You swayed your face jerking away from his hold embarrassment hitting your body in all proportions but he was strong, a lot stronger than you could ever imagine.

“Wow, my lion is sensitive today.” You stated as he stood hovering above you. Jing Yuan's mind is so quick to wander from those eyes that were trying their best to hold back the tears to your trembling lips. He runs his thumb on your bottom lip holding your chin as he kept up with your gaze. You do not move. You do not avert his gaze. You let him grow comfortable in the silence.

“And my little sparrow is so wounded today.” He swallows as he enjoys the view of you. His beautiful innocent wife sitting at his feet. It makes him want to ruin you in ways that he even can not seem to fathom yet.

“General,” two loud bangs followed. “The meeting is ready. And you promised you would let me join tonight.” It would definitely be Yanqing. Jing Yuan pressed the bridge of his nose letting out a frustrated groan. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon. You carry—Taking this golden opportunity you stood and walked away towards the door. On your way out you grabbed a serape that Jing Yuan generally uses. He ruined those buttons anyways. You have to get it fixed by a tailor.

“Are you not forgetting something? Hmmm, my little sparrow,” You paused and looked sideways. From your peripheral vision you could tell he was wrapping a night robe. You just nodded in denial. The moment you took another step he grabbed you from behind. This time his grip was harder. You winced a little and he turned you around keeping his firm grip on your forearms. “I will see you in our room tonight.” He smiled before leaving a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t lock the room like last time.”

As soon as he released you, you ran like a bird without looking back. Jing Yuan could hear the sound of your anklets accompanied by hurried footsteps. When it stopped he could hear Yanqing's voice and your smooth melody of laughter. “She is lively as ever,” Jing Yuan painfully groaned looking at his rock-hard cock.

The assembly was going smoothly. Several warlords were present today. Xianzhou has been at peace for centuries but not Jing Yuan’s mind. His mind was always busy weaving something. Evenings never go empty. Even though he eradicated all the threats, he still makes schemes for battles because that is what he is made for, that is all his mind can do— predict and prepare for battles, eradicate or kill any possible threats, train or recruit potential candidates for the next general after him. His life has become an experiment, and he himself a weapon. He is an inspiring legend to many. People aspire to be like him.

But Oh! How he wished he could throw it all away sometimes. But he can not. His hands are tied. He is born to lead and protect. Any slight deviation in the system might collapse it from the roots and that is what he feared most: changing and mellowing because of life. And it happened so quickly and so vividly that he had no choice but to embrace it. Marriage was not the part of plan and he had no manual on ‘how to run a marriage so by nature he is bound to experiment and go through the ups and downs.

Like right now, all he can think of when this meeting is going to end and he is to retire in your chambers. Generally, you are to wait for him in the master bedroom only after he sends the message to see you but he has broken many rules and traditions to the point that some are deemed null and void for him. He could dismiss all the warlords and commissioners at ease but Yanquing is so invested that it makes him change his decision. In the end, he was too conflicted between Yanqing and you that he ended up going by his schedule. Finished the meeting, had supper, and retired to his chambers. So, to distract himself he carved an eagle out of a piece of wood during the meeting till it came to an end. He would have given it to Yanquig but he rather felt comfortable keeping it to himself.

Staring at the heavily embellished ceiling he thinks if he could still visit you, if you would still keep the door open or deliberately lock it even after his polite reminder. But a certain locked door would not keep you apart from him. He would still visit you if he wanted like he did that one time. Around midnight when you were tossing and turning he was standing right behind the door. He was still hesitating because of the cold war he had with you this evening. He did not mean to hurt you. He just wanted a reaction, a mechanical reaction that he could match with otherworldly things and tend to it.

Exhaling strongly he knocked once. No answer. Twice. Still, no answer. Thrice. “Alright. That’s it. I’m coming in” he murmured with annoyance before swinging the door open only to find you sleeping at one side of the bed peacefully. He smiled to himself at the sight. So, you were expecting him despite the hurt he caused you. He sat by the edge of the bed as soundlessly as possible trying not to wake you up. Something nudged his hips and when he checked his pockets he found the carved eagle. Keeping it to a side bed table his eyes landed on you again. You released a soft moan as you turned around and he could feel his cock twitch. He wished he could fuck you witless right now but at the same time, he did not want to disturb your sleep, especially after hurting you this evening so badly; though unintentionally but he did. He keeps reminding himself of that.

Jing Yuan kept staring at your face for a while until he finally gave in. As he brushed the back of his fingers along your cheek you jerked wide awake. Nice reflexes. You curled at the corner of the bed in an instant like a coiled spring pulling the duvet up to your neck. Now that he thinks about it, you were wearing such a flimsy dress that he could see your breasts. But his eyes were solely focused on your face. He blinks before locking eyes with you as he speaks. “Do you find me that appalling? Are you scared of me that much?”

“No. I could never. Please do not misunderstand. I’m—-

“Sorry?” he finishes your sentence.

“Ugh. not scared.” You bit the inner flesh of your bottom lip. ”And not appalled.” Jing Yuan blinked in surprise a few times cocking his head at you. Of course. He could never see eye to eye with him. You have to oppose him, prove him wrong, say something entirely different from what he expected of you, do something anything remotely related he had thought you could do. His lips tug up in delight as he crawls towards you. “Not bothered either?” he slides the duvet away from your grips. You do not respond. There is no point in it. He would catch your lie anyways.

Jing Yuan closes his eyes before grazing his nose against your cheeks very lightly making you grip the silk bedsheets. “your heart is beating so fast right now.” He rasps. His hot breath tickles your nerves.

“Yours too, my lion.” you whispered back. He recoils looking at you with a surprise. He is now hovering over you being all on his fours while you were underneath him, on your knees touching his chest. As you straightened your legs as a gesture to invite him he grew more surprised by you. He could do two things. Either he can talk it out with you or he can fuck your brains out. He chose the second.

Jing Yuan's lips landed on yours disrupting your balance. His weight forced you to lie on the bed. His arms slide underneath your waist scooping you up as if you were not close enough to him. His kiss grew hungrier eliciting slow soft moans and shaky breaths from you. Your hands flew back to the back of his nape and then slides upon his chest. Unable to take him any longer you pressed on to his chest slightly. He retreated, huffing and panting savoring the hungry look in your eyes. “Hold this for me,” he muttered bunching up your nightgown up to your waist. He could ask you to take it off or hold it above your chest displaying your breasts for him but he did not do that. He wanted you to do that, voluntarily. He wanted to remove the veil of modesty you have once and for all. It will take time and he is a patient hunter.

As he brought his mouth towards your entrance you gulped and the moment his mouth latched on to your vagina it felt like he was tasting the forbidden fruit of heaven for the first time. This is not the first time he has gone down on you but something was different. He was earnest and hungry, his tongue was swiftly licking your folds, his lips sucking onto your bud. It felt like he was about to devour your soul out of your astral body. Your hand reached onto his head, diving into his silver strands. He sucked at your bud hard before pausing to speak. “you keep your hands where they are or I'll tie them up.”

You were so out of breath to fabricate a reply but inhaling deeply you exclaimed softly, “Like this.” bunching up your garment up to your neck and then discarding it.

“you're such a fucking tease, you know that?” he mused merrily before diving back his mouth into your cunt. He kept sucking and licking as your moans kept rising, your body squirming, and his grip on your hips grew stronger. You shut your eyes closed, feeling a knot forming at the pit of your stomach. His teeth sank into your inner thigh as he managed to push his fingers into your hole. With a few erratic strokes along with sucking and biting your lips and you came into his palm, soaking the bed sheets.

When he sat upright with glistened nose and lips, and disheveled hair you were buck naked while he was still clothed. “This going to be a long night.” He teased seeing you tugging with the sash of his robe. He leaned towards you giving you a taste of your juices. “Don’t you just taste divine?” he says breaking the kiss.

“I couldn’t tell, my lion.” You hinted asking for more. Jing Yuan smiles, his eyes flash on the wooden eagle he kept at the bedside table. He smirked before kissing you back fervently.

Yeah. It can wait. The baby talk can definitely wait.

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ellitx · 9 months ago

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Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down.

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away.

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

#hmm i love me toxic dynamic pairings #im quite surprised most of the fics i found were wholesome #which i admit are very cute #but the toxicity of alastor tormenting his darling??#mwah chefs kiss #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #elliwrites

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

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love on tour memories - blurb

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. you were bigger than the whole sky 😢 here’s a compilation of love on tour memories, some blurbs are new and some were already posted, i hope you like this trip down memory lane

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

september 4th, 2021 - las vegas, nevada

Feather boas, pink hats and colorful flags all around could only mean one thing.

Harry Styles was finally back on tour.

After a long two year wait, Love On Tour was finally hitting the road, with the first stop being the iconic Las Vegas, Nevada.

You were beyond ecstatic to say the least, being on the road with Harry was your favorite thing to do, and you knew how much he wanted to finally be doing his favorite thing in the world again.

You were roaming around backstage looking for your boyfriend, already wearing your custom red dress that would match Harry's outfit for the night.

"Love! You look stunning," Lambert's voice made you turn your head, "That dress fits you perfectly just like I knew it would." You blushed as you walked together towards where Harry was getting ready with his bandmates in a few minutes.

"You're too nice, Lamby," you smiled at him, "Is he going shirtless like I asked? I couldn't be with him while he was getting ready."

"He is, darling. He said your wish was his command."

You rolled your eyes with affection; and as if on cue, Harry entered the room exuding an aura of confidence and excitement.

He was dying to get on stage.

"Hey, love," he approached you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "Can you believe it? We're finally here."

You looked at him fondly, your eyes giving away how proud and excited you felt at the moment, "We're finally here," you repeated, "This is going to be the best tour ever."

Harry pressed a quick peck to your lips before turning his attention to the rest of his bandmates, who were gathered in the room.

"Alright, everyone," Harry announced, his voice full of enthusiasm. "This is it, the first night of Love On Tour," Jeff, who just entered the room with the rest of Harry's managers, let out a whistle in excitement. "Let's make it one to remember."

The band hugged quickly before walking down the corridor that would take them to the stage.

You walked by Harry's side, holding his hand and realizing how much you missed the tour life.

"Good luck kiss?" Harry turned to you as you reached what would be his 'soft goods' box for the next months.

"Wouldn't turn it down for the world." You smiled and connected your lips, and just like that he was off to the stage inside a storage box.

For the next two hours, Harry and his bandmates poured their hearts on stage for the first time in two years, and by the end of the night, everyone had the same thought in their minds.

This was going to be a tour to remember.

october 30th, 2021 - new york

Outside of Madison Square Garden, fans were lining up dressed in their costumes of all kind, excited to be part of Harry's fancy dress party to celebrate Halloween.

However, backstage at the arena you were was growing increasingly curious and impatient about Harry's costume choice, since everyone refused to tell you about it.

"I can't take it anymore!" You said, your eyes darting between everyone in the room. "Somebody, please tell me what Harry's going dressed as!"

Jeff chuckled, entertained by your growing desperation to know. "Oh, YN, you're in for a treat. Harry's going all out, you're going to be gagged"

"Come on, you have to give me something!" Your eyes traveled to Lambert, hoping he would crack up and tell you what you desperately wanted to know.

"Nope, and don't give me those eyes. Sue strictly told us to keep it as a surprise."

You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking towards the door. "Well, I guess I'll try to bribe him with a blowie again.

Everyone in the room laughed at your words, and before you could even reach Harry's dressing room you were intercepted by Harry's assistant Luis, who told you that he instructed him to keep you out of the room until he was ready.

You got into your own costume for the night, a fairy dress with wings and a crown, you put extra effort in your makeup adding glitter and some gem stones.

You heard two knocks to your door followed by Jeff's voice "YN, you ready? Harry is and he wants to see you."

"God, why is he being so dramatic about his costume," you opened the door as you spoke and once you were met with Jeff and his costume, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Miss Anna Wintour, the Toms are going like this too," he shrugged and walked towards Harry's dressing room, you following behind, "Come on now, your annoying boyfriend is waiting for you."

"You ready love?" you heard Harry's voice from the other side of the door, not opening yet.

"Come on just come out already! I need to see you!"

And after a few more seconds of mystery, he finally opened the door and you were met with his blue dress and bright red shoes.

He was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

"Harry! This is- you look amazing!"

"Really? You like it?" he put his hands on his waist and tilt his head before giving a twirl and making you laugh.

"I love it, but I have one concern, tho."

"And that would be?" he looked at you questioningly.

"That skirt is too short! You're going to flash your bits to everyone!"

"Well, my love," he grabbed the hem of his dress, pulling it up, "That is what the bloomers are for!"

june 18th, 2022 - london, uk

"How do you feel, mate?" Jeff asked Harry as they stood together on the wings of the stage, Mitski was just done with her set and Harry was already on his outfit for the show, minutes away from hitting the stage.

"It's a weird feeling somehow," Harry turned his gaze to his manager and best friend, "I never thought I was going to ever be able to fill this place on my own, you know?"

"And here we are, two sold out shows!" Jeff threw his fist in the air as a sign of celebration and both of them laughed, side hugging as they kept admiring the crowd.

"Are you guys having a sappy sentimental moment without me?" they tuned their heads towards the voice called for them, that belonged to you.

"I was just about to leave, actually, I have to check everything's running smoothly before this one hits the stage," Jeff ruffled Harry's hair for a moment, "You lovebirds enjoy your pre-concert shag, see you out there!"

You and Harry rolled your eyes and shook your heads, all the times you got caught doing your shenanigans before the shows resulting in a constant teasing from your friends.

"So, how do you feel, rockstar?" you asked, getting closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You know, Jeff just asked the same thing."

"Okay, no talking, straight to the pre-concert shag I guess!"

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you looked out at the crowd together.

"I feel great," Harry said, turning his face to the side to lock his eyes with yours, "Being here again and having you by my side is something that I thought would only happen in my dreams, so I feel great my dreams came true again."

"This is a time where I actually feel good saying that I told you so," you smiled softly, "I always knew that you were going to be selling out this places on your own, baby. And I'm so proud of you."

"I know," Harry pecked yours lips for a moment, "And that's the reason why I'm here, because you had never allowed me to doubt myself."

"You're here because you've earned it by working hard and pouring your heart out in everything that you do, there's no one who deserves this as much as you do."

Harry's eyes got watery at your words, and he grabbed youe face to connect your lips, expressing everything he felt at the moment with a kiss.

"10 minutes till show time!" One of the crew members announced, making you break apart.

"Go sing about fruit and joke about dads, rockstar. I love you."

"Love you more, lovey."

And with a final kiss to your lips he was off to perform, ready to charm a crowd of 80,000 people on his own, something that he never though he would achieve.

september 21st, 2022 - new york

Emotions were all over the place at Madison Square Garden’s backstage, the clinking of champagne glasses along with congratulatory speeches were heard all around the room as a way to celebrate the 15 sold out shows at the world’s most famous arena.

The grin on Harry’s face was evident as he thanked everyone who approached him to applaud his milestone, from his friends to the arena’s crew, and holding his own glass of champagne and wearing a small smile, his eyes started wandering around for you.

It was when he reached the now empty pit of the arena when he found you, just a few hours prior, the room was filled with feather boas, glittery hats and more than twenty thousand people who came together to celebrate him. Right now, it was just you and him, looking up at the brand new addition to the arena.

“HARRY STYLES. 15 CONSECUTIVE NIGHTS AT THE GARDEN”

Was what the arena’s brand new banner said, a banner that would permanently stay there, as a reminder of what your boyfriend had achieved.

“You know I wouldn’t have done it without you, right?” he said as he approached you, bringing you closer by wrapping both of his arms around your waist, leaning his chin of your shoulder “All these songs are about you, all of this is because of you, my love.”

You smiled, the feeling of elation increasing at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Turning around to face him, you placed your hands on his cheeks before you spoke “This is all you, you did this, baby,” you said while looking into his eyes, and the fact that they were glossy and watery told you that he was still very emotional about the night’s events.

“Maybe I inspired you to write the songs, but the words aren’t mine, honey, they’re yours. All the people who filled those seats every night, they were here for you, because you have impacted their lives in ways no one else could. You deserve this, and I’m so proud and happy for you.” You finished, feeling your own eyes getting watery, still holding his face between your hands, and pressing your foreheads together.

“I’m so damn lucky to have you.” Harry chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your jaw and then nuzzle your neck, you put your hand on the back of his neck and caress his hair, letting him embrace you and holding him right back.

“I’m the lucky one, I mean, not everyone can say that their boyfriend has a banner permanently hung up high at Madison Square Garden, right?” you joked, feeling his laugh vibrate against your neck before he pulled his face out of it, looking into your eyes.

“I love you so much, YN.” he said looking right into your eyes, and his expressed what he had just said, you could feel the love radiate from him.

He’s walking joy, walking happiness, walking love

november 5th, 2022 - los angeles

From the moment you were woken up by the sound of Harry's dry coughs, you knew it was going to be a hard day.

Harry had been feeling under the weather the last couple of days, and today he was feeling his worst. As a professional, he pushed through, thinking it was just exhaustion from the intense schedule on tour.

However, as the day progressed, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of sickness off his body. His throat was sore, and his head felt heavy and he could barely sing during soundcheck, making his bandmates and managers worry about his health.

"Baby," you called out for him, caressing his hair softly, "Jeff just texted me that the doctor is here, he's going to check up on you."

Harry didn't verbally reply, he just stood up and kissed your forehead softly before leaving the room, you following close behind.

You knew what he was worried about the most: having to cancel the show.

The doctor examined Harry thoroughly and then delivered the unfortunate news, he had a severe throat infection and singing tonight could worsen it, so he had to cancel his upcoming shows.

He didn't speak, but you knew he was devastated.

After he delivered the news to his fans via an Instagram story, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek softly before speaking, "You did the right thing, Harry. Your fans love you, and they'll understand that your health comes first," you reassured him.

Jeff and Tommy, who were in the room too, nodded in agreement, "We'll handle the rescheduling and all the logistics. You just focus on resting and getting better," Jeff said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'm so sorry, mate." and with a final pat to Harry's back, they were out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Hey," you grabbed his chin, making him look at you, "Talk to me, love. What are you thinking?"

"I feel terrible, I hate disappointing the fans and I feel like I let everyone down."

You pressed a tender kiss to his temple again before speaking, "Your fans understand that you're human, just like everyone else. You're allowed to prioritize your well-being, and the fans will always be there for you, cheering you on, no matter what."

Harry gave you a tired smile and laid your head against your shoulder, and you felt proud of everything he does, even giving himself a break.

december 4th, 2022 - buenos aires, argentina

“Holy shit! Look at how packed that pit is already.” Harry said as he got a peek of the stadium, it was still early but fans were already inside and waiting for him.

“You know how much your fans here love you, baby. Tonight’s show is going to be crazy.” You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking at the crowd with him.

“It’s going to be one of the best, I can’t fucking wait.” Excitement was evident on his voice and you couldn’t help but melt a bit, the man you love was happy and that made you the happiest as well.

“They scored!” Anthony Pham’s voice made you turn your heads, a bunch of the crew members were watching the Argentina vs Australia match on a small tv, and the screams from the crowd just confirmed that their country had just scored.

“Wait, put the match on the big screens, let’s watch it together with the crowd.” Harry said and guys from the tech crew quickly put the match on the stadium screens, making fans grow excited.

By the end of the match and by a close call, Argentina won and the crowd erupted in cheers and screams, the entire staff celebrating too and hyping the crowd.

“Go celebrate with them baby! Go on!” you urged Harry to go on stage, “You know what? Fuck it!” and he ran to the stage and hyped the crowd, celebrating the victory with them

Argentina gave him one of his best tour memories already and the shows were still yet to happen.

february 20th, 2023 - perth, australia

“How are we feeling in here tonight Perth?” Harry said into the mic, looking out at the crowd cheering and screaming for him, “It’s been about 5 years almost since I last performed in Australia, feels so good to be back.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and screams, and you watched fondly as he moved around the stage.

“YN, my girlfriend, she loves to research each country we visit before the show," Harry pointed out to you and the nerves instantly hit you, despite being with him years, you still weren’t used to the spotlight and the attention. "She told me about some… peculiar traditions you guys do over here, like drinking out of a shoe.” Harry said and the audience went wild along with you, you knew his fans had been trying to get him to do a shoey since the last time he performed in the country and you insisted that he needed to finally do it.

“This is one of the most disgusting traditions I’ve ever heard of,” he paused to shake his head, “Fuck it,” and he proceeded to take his shoe off, making the entire audience roar in cheers.

“Can you do a Shoey with water or is that against the rules? YN?” the camera zoomed into you, putting your face in the big screens across the stadium, you couldn’t help but laugh and yell your responde, “She says no! Okay let’s just get this over with.”

And next thing you knew, Harry was drinking out of his shoe and the entire stadium was erupting in screams.

“I feel like a different person…I feel ashamed of myself. It feels so personal! Such an intimate moment to be shared with so many people!” at this point your belly hurt from how much you were laughing, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as well, “I’ll be discussing this with my therapist at length…at length! And YN, you’re a terrible girlfriend for making me do this!”

Even though you were aware of the cameras catching your every reaction, you rolled your eyes with affection and jokingly flipped him off, making him blow an obnoxious kiss your way.

“Now, who’s ready for more music?”

march 26th, 2023 - tokyo, japan

“Everyone who knows me, knows how incredibly special this country is to me. I came here a few years ago for 5 days, and stayed a LOT longer than 5 days. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me in my whole life.” Harry said, looking out at the crowd in complete awe, “I’ve always felt that my time in here in Japan was incredibly special to me & I would not be able to make those 2 albums if it wasn’t for that time. So thank you the people of Japan for whatever it was that you gave to me. I will love you for it forever”

You couldn't help but shed a few tears, adoration running through your veins for the man who was currently closing up one of the most special legs of his world tour.

"However, unlike the last time I came here, I'm not on my own this time, I'm here with this incredible band who gives me the honor to play with them every night, the amazing crew who makes every show possible, and most importantly," he put a hand to his heart before continuing, "I'm here with the gorgeous woman I get to call my girlfriend, and I feel like the luckiest man in the world for that."

It was safe to say that you were full on crying by now, aware of fans and cameras catching your every move but not ashamed to be vulnerable because of the man you loved.

Harry turned to look at you on the side of the stage before speaking again, "I love you so much, baby, thank you for being my muse and my best friend, none of this would be possible without you."

And as if it was the first sentence you ever learned, you instantly mouthed and "I love you to Harry, making him grin and blush before speaking into the mic again.

"Thank you, Japan! I love you."

june 10th, 2023 - slane, ireland

Today was a day for the history books. Harry was going to make history as the first artist to ever perform in the iconic Slane Castle as a main performer for his own tour since 1985.

He brought up that he was offered the chance while you were snuggled in bed, listening to soft music that played from Harry’s record player.

“They offered me to perform at Slane Castle. You know, that venue where the only way to perform is if you get invited by Lord Henry.” Harry said casually as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Baby! That’s amazing!” you said in a cheerful tone, but the way Harry pursed his lips made you guess what was going on in his mind, “Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this, it’s a great opportunity.”

“I know, I know,” he said, pecking your forehead softly before continuing, “But everything’s pretty intimidating, there’s a lot to live up to.”

“And you will absolutely crush it. So call Jeffrey right now and tell him to book the gig.”

And so he did. And now, you were leaning on his dressing room’s vanity table, watching as he got ready for one of the biggest nights of this career.

“How do you feel?” you asked softly, you knew that his nerves always kicked in during this time.

“Nervous, happy, excited,” he turned to you, giving you a soft smile and tender eyes, “I just want this to be a memorable show, I don’t want anyone to leave the venue feeling like the show wasn’t good enough.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, gorgeous,” he smiled at the pet name, one of his favorites that you use for him, “Every single show that you’ve done ever since you were sixteen has been absolutely incredible, this one won’t be the exception.”

And instead of giving you a verbal reply, he crashed his lips into yours, pouring all of his feelings in a kiss.

“Hershel, time to hit the stage!” you were interrupted by Jeff knocking on the door.

“Oh cut it out, Jeffrey. We’re in the middle of my pre show shag.” Harry joked, making you throw your head back in laughter.

“You have two minutes, you menaces.” Jeff timed his eyes, already used to your shenanigans.

Your laughs died down and you looked directly into his eyes, caressing the hair at the base of his neck before speaking, “You’re going to deliver an amazing show, okay?” Harry only nodded, letting you continue, “You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations, you just need to be your loving carefree self and everyone will have the best night of their lives.”

He pecked your lips before speaking, “Thank your for that, and for just being you, honestly,” he shook his head for a moment, “I wouldn’t have the courage to go out on stage every night if it wasn’t for you.”

“You would. Because you were born for this. Now go make me proud, rockstar.”

And with a final kiss to your lips, he was off with his band, ready to hit the stage of one of the most important nights of his career.

july 22nd, 2023 - reggio emilia, italy

The time had come to say goodbye to Love On Tour.

Surrounded by Harry's family and friends, you stood in the VIP area of the field watching Harry perform the last show of his biggest tour.

The night had been incredible so far, Harry pour his heart out performing just like he had been doing for the last two years, making the show extra special by adding new songs to the setlist and letting the crowd know how thankful he has for everything given to him.

"I will remember this evening and all of this for the rest of my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of this, thank you for dedicating your time to me, thank you for listening to me. Thank you for being amazing. Thank you for everything." Harry said into the mic, beginning with his final speech, one you knew would make you tear up.

"I have people here tonight who have supported me in so many ways over the past 13 years in which you can only imagine. I would not be on this stage without them and their love and support. My family are here tonight, my friends are here tonight," Harry's voice cracked up and his eyes got teary, making everyone in the crowd tear up along with him, "I was doing so well! Thank you for the support, thank you loving me for the way that you have. My friends are here tonight, thank you for having my back, always. I love you all so much. Thank you. I have a lot of things to feel incredibly lucky for in life but i feel the luckiest with my friends support. It allows me to do this. I am so full right now, I've never been happier in my entire life."

You held Anne's hand as you listened to his speech, both of you growing emotional at his words, just as the nearly 100,000 fans in the crowd.

"My girlfriend and life partner is here tonight, just like she was for all 169 previous nights, and all the most important moments of the last 13 years," eyes turned to you, but your attention was only on the man on stage, the one you loved, "I've said it countless of times before, but none of this would be possible without you. You're my best friend, my muse and my biggest supporter. Thank you for loving me, and giving me a love to write about. I love you."

You mouthed an "I love you" back to him, wiping some tears that kept falling from your eyes.

"Secondly, to you all," he turned to face his band, "Thank you so much for doing this with me, that you trust me, thank you for giving your time, your energy. This show is what it is because of everything you've done every night."

He continued his speech, thanking the fans for the same space they created over the years, and giving him the opportunity to be on stage every night doing what he loves the most.

After a 10 minute ballad written specially for the night, Love On Tour was officially over. But the memories created around it would last a lifetime.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily

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chestersturniolo · 2 months ago

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𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘴

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

•the heart wrenching notion of right person, wrong time •

warnings; none apart from no happy ending!

••••••••

It was a cool evening, the kind where the air was crisp but not cold enough to make you shiver. You sat on the park bench, as the sun started to set. You could hear the soft rustle of leaves and the distant noise of the main streets, but all you could focus on was Matt sitting beside you.

Months had led up to this moment—months of late-night conversations, spontaneous adventures, and sharing parts of yourself you hadn’t shown anyone else. He was the kind of person who made you laugh without trying, who knew when to talk and when to simply sit in silence with you. And yet, here you were, on the verge of saying goodbye.

“Timing is such a cruel thing, isn’t it?” Matt said softly, breaking the stillness between you. His voice had that familiar warmth, but there was a heaviness to it now, a sadness.

You nodded, struggling to find words for a moment. "Yeah…it really is”

Matt turned to look at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight. The conflict in them was clear—he wanted this as much as you did, but there was something bigger, something neither of you could change. “If things were different—if we’d met just a year from now, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’ve thought about that a lot too. But it’s not a year from now…It’s now…”

Matt looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing the edge of the bench. “I can’t ask you to wait for me. It’s not fair. My career... this move... it’s going to change everything, and I don’t even know what that looks like for me yet. I don’t want to drag you into something uncertain”

He was leaving to pursue his youtube career with his brothers in LA — a dream opportunity, something he’d worked so hard for. You were proud of him, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The timing, as always, was off. The universe had a funny way of bringing people together just to pull them apart again.

“I don’t want to hold you back, either” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You deserve this, Matt. And I... I have things I need to figure out too”

It wasn’t a lie. You had your own ambitions, your own dreams you were chasing. But that didn’t change the fact that, right now, sitting next to him, you wished things were different. You wished the rest of the world would stop for a while, so the two of you could just exist here, without all the complications.

Matt sighed and leaned back, looking up at the sky. “You know what’s funny? I’ve never felt more connected to someone than I do with you. But life… life just won’t wait”

You turned to him, heart aching. “What if we’re making a mistake? What if we’re letting something slip away that could’ve been—”

He cut you off gently. “No, don’t think like that. What we have... it’s real. But sometimes love isn’t enough to change the timing of things. Maybe we’re supposed to meet again when the time is right”

The words stung, even though you knew they were true. Maybe it wasn’t forever. Maybe someday, when your paths crossed again, things would fall into place. But right now, you were at a crossroads, and you couldn’t walk the same path.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. His fingers laced with yours, and you sat like that for a long moment, neither of you wanting to let go.

“When you leave tomorrow...” you started, your voice trembling.

“When I leave tomorrow, it doesn’t change what we had” he finished for you.

The tears you’d been holding back finally slipped down your cheek, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting him to see. “Do you think we’ll find our way back to each other someday?”

Matt smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I really hope so sweetheart….but if we don’t, at least we’ll know that for a while, we found something extraordinary , something real… eachother”

You nodded, knowing this moment would stay with you no matter what the future held.

As the sun disappeared completely behind the horizon, you knew it was time. Time to let go, even though it felt impossible.

The silence between you grew heavy. Matt glanced at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment,as tears started brimming in his own.

He leaned in slowly ,placing his lips into yours, soft and tender, a kiss that held everything you couldn’t say. It was a kiss filled with goodbye, with love, with all the moments you’d shared and the ones you would never have. Time seemed to stop around you, and for that brief moment, nothing else existed. Just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his breath against your skin. His hand cupped your face gently, thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down your cheek.

“I love you—” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“—I love you with my whole heart”

Your chest tightened, the weight of those words sinking into you. You felt it too, every ounce of what he was saying. “I love you too”

But you both knew love wasn’t enough to change what was happening next.

Matt hesitantly stood up, offering his hand. With a small sigh you wrap your hand around his, pulling yourself up.

He pulled you close, kissing you one last time, the taste of salty tears from both of you lingering.

You both slowly pulled away,

“I’m going to miss you” you whispered.

Matt squeezed your hand gently before letting go. “I’m going to miss you too-“ be breathed, trying his hardest to hold back his tears, but failing miserably as they continued to fall.

“-Maybe in another life,huh?” he sniffled.

You left out a soft sob at his words, tears streaming uncontrollably. Your bring your hand up to your chest, laying it comfortingly over your aching heart.

All you could muster was a small nod

“Another life” you whisper.

You both stood for a moment, just looking at eachother. Trying to memorise every detail.

Matt placed his hand on your cheek, before leaning forward, placing a lingering kiss to your forehead. He pulls away, as his thumb brushes back and forth. His teary eyes met yours, both of you silently saying goodbye. It was too painful to say out loud. You both knew it, and you knew eachother knew it. So you stood silently, letting your gazes say it all.

Matt slowly started walking backwards, his eyes still locked to yours, with a small smile and sniffle, he turned around.

As he started walking away from you, you couldn’t hold back the sobs, wrapping your arms around yourself as a form of faux comfort.

Matt stops in his tracks, the sound of your cries ripping his heart to shreds. He stands still, his back still facing you.

“Don’t look back Matt” you call out, voice trembling.

He stayed paused, for what felt like an eternity. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the conflict in his stance. But finally, he took a deep breath and hesitantly continued walking, each step heavy with finality. You watched as his silhouette got smaller , and eventually disappeared into the dark, carrying your heart with him.

••••••••••••

A/N; i’m actually distraught after writing that wtf😭 probably the saddest thing i’ve written and i hate it but love it at the same time. thankyou for reading loves!!

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist;

@sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour

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talesofesther · 2 years ago

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I told the moon about you

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds herself enchanted by the black wolf who always watches her play the cello in the dead of night.

A/N: This was written for a request sent by @roleplayfandom and I combined it with an idea of mine that I've had for a while, hope you don't mind and can still enjoy it. Arguably one of the most important stories I've written, because this oc has been my baby for so long, and I'm so happy to finally have the opportunity to include her in one of my stories; just hope I was able to do her justice with this. <3

Word count: 6,4k (sorry)

Masterlist

There was a drizzle in the air, the wind carried it around easily; tiny droplets of rain landed on the strings of Wednesday's cello that shook with each note she played.

Past the thin rain and clouds, the brightness of the full moon was nothing but a faded blur, casting a silver glow over the Addams girl and serving as the only witness to her spectacle.

The strong melody traveled with the wind same as the rain did, reaching the deepest parts of Nevermore and undoubtedly waking up a few students from their slumber. It only served as incentive — Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

When she released the strings, a soft sigh was let out as well. She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

With uncanny delicacy, Wednesday lowered her cello, closing the case with a soft click.

The rain looked like it was starting to pick up, bigger droplets started to kiss Wednesday's cheeks, making their way down to her chin. The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

Wednesday walked up to the railings, her hands leaning against the wet concrete there. Save for the howling wind, it was strangely quiet.

But there was something different with today. Wednesday could feel it. She could feel the weight of a mysterious presence nearby.

As expected, her instincts never failed. It was dark, pitch black, the shape of trees blending together with one another in the distance.

But in the middle of the darkness, a pair of caramel eyes were spotted. They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky. It was just sitting there, on the grass of the gardens outside. Its golden eyes fixed intently all the way up to the balcony where Wednesday was standing.

The Addams girl expressed no reaction other than angling her chin up with furrowed brows, a dare; and the wolf understood, because it slowly stood up, its ears resting back against its head before it trotted out of sight and into the woods.

Wednesday remained under the rain until she could feel the wetness of it seeping into her clothes. Her hands held onto the railings tightly.

Turns out the moon wasn't the only witness tonight.

—

Those same golden eyes followed Wednesday in her dreams, and she woke up frustrated for not knowing who they belonged to.

Was it just a wild animal passing by or a student braving the woods past curfew?

The thought of the wolf being a student seemed… unlikely, because it looked much different from Enid when compared to her 'wolfed out' form. The black wolf was simply that, a wolf — albeit a tad bigger. Yet Wednesday didn't discard the possibility of it being someone. Someone who was watching her.

She tried pushing the thought out of her mind during the day for the sake of her grades.

"Miss Addams?"

Wednesday snapped her head up, only to see her anatomy teacher and the whole entirety of the class with their heads turned her way, eyes expectant as they waited for something to happen.

A scowl came to Wednesday's face at the unwanted attention. She rested both hands on her table, briefly realizing that the board had three extra paragraphs of lessons written on it that weren't in her notebook yet.

"I made you a question," the teacher continued, one of her hands coming to rest on her waist, "for how long can a gorgon stone a person?"

Wednesday gulped, her lips hovering open as she searched her mind for the useless information yet came empty-handed.

The teacher was annoying, one of the least liked by the Addams girl. She was old and wore long and colorful skirts, with obnoxiously large glasses resting atop her nose.

"It depends on the gorgon," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but usually from two to four hours."

Wednesday glanced beside her to where the owner of said voice sat, and was met with a smirk being directed at her. She huffed in annoyance, visibly rolling her eyes.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace — instantly getting into Wednesday's nerves the moment you stepped foot into the school and called her 'sweetheart'.

"Very well." The teacher looked between you and Wednesday, not entirely pleased that Wednesday wasn't the one who answered but deciding to let it pass, and turned around to write on the board again.

Wednesday didn't know what your deal was, no one did. No one knew who your family was, what were your abilities, or the reason you enrolled in Nevermore; not even Enid knew, and she was the gossip queen. Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire, just by the way you scrunched your nose at the mere sight of blood; but that's about everything she knows so far.

Too smug for your own good, you leaned back on your chair. Wednesday could feel your gaze roaming up and down her body, before you said, quietly; "you're welcome-"

There was sunlight coming through the dusty windows. Wednesday could see her reflection in your glasses. "Shut up."

"Sweetheart," you finished with a grin.

The pencil that was thrown in your direction missed you only by an inch.

—

When Wednesday walked out onto the balcony of her dorm the next night, the wolf was already there.

She got a little taken aback by it, halting in her steps and gripping tighter onto the case of her cello. Wednesday immediately discarded the possibility of it being a coincidence or just a wild animal passing by. The wolf was there for her.

Those caramel eyes held a staring contest with Wednesday, and they eventually won. Satisfied, the wolf then lay down on the grass… and waited.

Long beats passed by until Wednesday finally sat down on her chair and adjusted her cello to be played. Her movements slow and calculated, all too aware of the heavy stare on her.

The moon was bright in the night sky, and Wednesday briefly glanced up at it, partly searching for some kind of reassurance but only finding that it wasn't a night of full moon.

When her gaze found the wolf again, she saw it looking up at the moon as well. The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Wolves sing for the moon, maybe that's why this one took a liking to the Addams girl.

There was hesitance on the way Wednesday's fingers hovered over the strings. Save for the occasional twitch of its tail, the wolf was unmoving on the grass, patiently watching.

Wednesday could tell the wolf to leave again, part of her knew it would obey. She didn't. She only closed her eyes, and started playing.

—

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find — some of them old, pages fragile to the touch and covered in a thick layer of dust.

The place was mostly deserted as per usual, and Wednesday saw no harm in staying. A table waited for her in the middle of the tall bookshelves, the only one hidden from sunlight.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little thrilled at the prospect of a new mystery. Things have been dull at school without an evil pilgrim trying to destroy it.

Though she was able to read in peaceful silence for all of ten minutes.

"What's with the sudden interest in furs?"

A heavy sigh left Wednesday's lips when she heard your voice. She sat straighter on her chair and chose to ignore you, pointedly turning the page of her book and focusing on it.

You hopped up on the table, sitting there cross-legged so you could face Wednesday, "you know your roommate is one, right? I bet she'd be happy to answer your questions."

See, there's a reason why Wednesday is bothered by your presence. Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. It's a feeling that's been there once before, fleetingly, much smaller than it is now. But she's no stranger to what comes with it.

"I don't remember asking for your advice," Wednesday said, still refusing to look at you, her bangs hiding her eyes from you.

"Ouch," you mumbled, leaning back on your hands, "was just trying to help."

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping. And it's not like she paid attention to the last three lines she just read in the book anyway. Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again; the dim golden light of the table lamp framed your profile and the way your hair fell over your shoulder — for a second, it reminded Wednesday of her wolf.

Her wolf. The thought jolted her back to reality and she cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as if you'd be able to read her thoughts.

"When are you gonna stop chasing after me like a lost puppy?" Wednesday didn't sound half as confident as she should for those words.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

The air felt electric, there was something enticing about the way you refused to back down sometimes. Wednesday felt the hair at the back of her neck rising with a shiver. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under already — or at least fighting for air between her and this damn table. Wednesday couldn't decide which outcome she liked best.

Wood scratched against the floor as she suddenly pulled back the chair beside hers; "sit down properly, stay quiet," without looking at you, she shoved one of the books in your direction, "we're looking for a werewolf who can transform without a full moon."

—

Nothing. There was nothing in any of the books.

Wednesday walked back to her dorm without having learned a single thing. None of the books in the school had anything remotely close to the creature she saw the past two nights. Frustration was eating at her insides because she was running out of leads to follow, a dead end steadily approaching.

She went up the stairs of Ophelia Hall in a haste, pushing the door to her room out of the way and causing a loud thump that got Enid jumping on her bed, almost throwing her cell phone to Wednesday's side of the room.

"Jesus Wednesday, what did the door do to you?" Enid grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Wednesday didn't respond, she threw her black backpack by the feet of her bed and came to stand in front of Enid. "What do you know of werewolves that can transform without a full moon?"

Slowly, a frown came to Enid's features. She turned off her phone when Wednesday kept glaring at it. "Nothing? Werewolves don't usually change without a full moon," Enid explained, confusion evident in her tone.

"And what if they did?"

"Then they're most likely not a werewolf."

Wednesday clenched her jaw in annoyance, she tugged at the tie around her neck, taking it off and messing up her hair in the process.

"Uh- my mother used to tell me about people who could shift into wolves at will, when I was younger," Enid kept going, wondering if that's what Wednesday was after.

The tie fell to her feet and Wednesday came to sit beside Enid; "tell me."

"Well, I don't know much about it, just that they're technically not werewolves. At least not like me," Enid shrugged, her colorful nails tapping her knee as she searched her brain for the stories she heard as a kid. "Oh, people used to call them hellhounds… pretty creepy if you ask me," she grimaced momentarily, "because they could change form whenever they pleased, and their… looks didn't help either, it made others scared of them. Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name back in the 1850s I think, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows," she shrugged, "maybe that's why no one has seen one for the past twenty years or so."

—

Wednesday didn't sleep that night. She kept staring at her ceiling and going over everything that Enid had told her. And the only other thought on her mind was you. It was inevitable, too fitting for it to be a coincidence.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

For a week straight, Wednesday waited for the wolf to appear every night so she could start playing her cello. And every night without fail, the wolf was there; same place, same time. It would lay down, watch her, and then leave.

—

On the tenth night, Wednesday wasn't on the balcony of her dorm. She decided to break the pattern.

There was no moon in the sky tonight, it almost looked like a storm was brewing. The air was frigid outside, the grass already coated with a thin layer of ice. Wednesday enjoyed the cold, but even she was reprimanding herself for having only one coat on.

Glancing down at her phone, Wednesday saw that it was already five minutes past the usual time the wolf showed up. She wondered if it saw the empty balcony and left. Or maybe it wasn't going to show up at all tonight. She felt strangely disappointed at the thought.

A twig snapped behind Wednesday, causing her to hastily turn around with a gasp lingering on her tongue. The trees stood tall in front of her, creating a blanket of pure darkness between them, nothing could be seen. Nothing, except a pair of golden eyes. For a moment, they looked like they were floating on nothing, intently watching the girl in front of them as if she was prey.

For several beats, Wednesday waited. And then, one paw stepped out of the woods and into the grass, causing a chill to run down her back — not from fear, at least not only fear.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Admittedly, it was bewitching.

The wolf, even on all fours, was almost as tall as Wednesday; and still, it kept its distance. If she didn't know any better, Wednesday would say it was afraid of her.

The night was suddenly calm, with not a single soul around to witness. Wednesday had come all the way down here tonight to put an end to things, discover who this wolf was and the reason behind all this… stalking?

Yet any words had died on her tongue and she found herself taking a step closer. The moment felt strangely delicate. When the wolf didn't move, she took two more steps.

Wednesday was reaching out before realizing it. The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

Wednesday didn't dare breathe, trapped in a moment that felt unreal. But her attention was soon caught by a glint of color, dangling from the wolf's neck.

The wolf backed away as soon as Wednesday tried to take a closer look, bright eyes looking at her one last time before it bolted away into the woods.

—

The next night, her wolf didn't show up. And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

A loneliness that shouldn't be there, but it was.

Wednesday found herself slipping away when the moon was highest in the sky, her bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden floor as she walked the empty hallways of Ophelia Hall. Maybe a walk out in the cold would take her mind of off foolish matters.

She walked until she eventually reached the main doors that led outside, stopping short of crossing the threshold. There was a figure sitting on the grass just ahead, cross-legged and looking up at the moon.

Wednesday would recognize you anywhere. She wondered why, for a fleeting second. "What are you doing?"

You tensed when you heard her voice. You had heard her coming, you heard the soft pattern of her steps down the stairs. You just weren't expecting her to talk. You didn't turn around to face her when you spoke; "admiring the moon."

Subconsciously, Wednesday's gaze shifted to the natural satellite in the sky, before settling back on you. She could barely make out the silhouette of your nose and cheeks, but she could tell you were smiling. Foolish. She thought to herself.

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

The Addams girl let out an indignant scoff at her own inner thought, reprimanding herself for even coming up with it. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous of a floating rock.

"What are you doing up?" You eventually asked, your voice gentle into the night.

If you turned around, you'd see Wednesday chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to chase away the mess of feelings swimming in her stomach. You'd see her take half a step toward you before deciding against it, and instead rushing back inside without giving you an answer.

But you didn't need one. Part of you already knew why she was there. It was the same for you, and it was bittersweet that you ended up meeting in the middle anyway, even if for a moment. Part of you wanted to run after her and just tell her.

—

You weren't sure why you did it.

On the first night, it was mere curiosity. You could remember the coldness of the grass beneath your paws, announcing the inevitable arrival of winter. You could remember the howling wind, causing your ears to twitch as the fur there felt sensitive to the force of it. You could remember the first drops of rain hitting your nose as you walked and how that's when you heard the first note of her song.

You followed it easily, soon finding yourself in the gardens that her balcony overlooked. And even seeing her all the way from down there, she was nothing short of entrancing. It was like you could feel her emotions through the music.

You never meant for Wednesday to see you though, even if all she'd see was a black wolf. But it happened, and yet you kept coming back, night after night; you couldn't help yourself. You started missing her. Because listening to her play felt like an escape from your unfortunate reality. It put you at ease.

But you should've known Wednesday would not settle for so little, you should've known from the moment you found her in the library, already digging up every last bit of information on anything regarding werewolves. You should've stopped then.

You didn't. Instead, you allowed her even closer, close enough to touch. On that night, part of you knew she'd already figured it all out.

—

It was a gray day outside. Fitting, you thought to yourself; as it was also your most dreaded day of the year. There was no more dodging it, you could fake sickness or an injury only so many times until it gets too obvious.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

It's tradition. That was what your father always told you. It's keeping the memory of our ancestors alive. As if they were anything worth remembering.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally. He had called you yesterday to let you know he'd be coming, as if you weren't stressing over it for a whole week already.

There was a chilly air outside, you could feel it even before walking out the doors that led to the quad; and it was right as you were making your way out, that she bumped into you. A quiet grunt left her lips at the impact, and she only didn't fall to the ground because your hands steadied her; your hold warm on her waist, keeping her body the closer she's ever been to you.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school. It just happened. Maybe it was your incredible bad luck; or those dark eyes that sometimes put the midnight sky to shame with their beauty. The teasing came with the package of your growing feelings for her, it was your natural defense mechanism whenever your heartbeat skyrocketed at the mere smell of her perfume. Though you could swear that, sometimes, you managed to get her cheeks a tad rosier than normal. It got you wondering if it was wishful thinking to consider the small possibility of her returning your affections.

"You good?" You asked, subconsciously squeezing her waist.

Wednesday stumbled back when she realized that if she leaned forward just a tad more it would result in her nose brushing yours. She blinked multiple times to focus back on you, yet the first thing her eyes found was the light pink pendant of your necklace, the very same she saw on the wolf the other night.

For someone who's always so hard to read, she let the facade slip pretty easily this time. Wednesday's features did something complicated, as if she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

"You're my wolf," the words rolled off her tongue against her volition, her wide eyes darting from your necklace to the dark sunglasses resting on top of your nose.

An awkward chuckle escaped you. You felt a lot more timid than you thought you would, "what?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw, she felt anger but wasn't sure towards what; "you're the wolf I see every night, aren't you?"

Your lips hovered yet no words came out, you took a step away from her. If it where any other time, you'd be happy to bounce arguments off of her until inevitably confirming her idea; but her timing wasn't ideal, "W-Wednesday, now is not a good time-"

"Why did you hide it-"

"What part of 'hurry up' did you not understand?" A gruff voice interrupted both you and Wednesday. You only gulped and looked down at your feet, while Wednesday turned her head to see a tall man walking towards you. He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

"I'm sorry, father," you mumbled as he dragged you away and you tried to keep up with his steps. You turned around to give Wednesday a last tight-lipped smile, "see you later, Wednesday."

—

The sun was nowhere to be seen when your father dropped you back at school again.

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

Part of you was grateful to have come back late, Nevermore's hallways were mostly empty at this hour already so you didn't have to explain your looks. It's not like you couldn't have freshened up at your family's cabin, you just didn't want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

So you hurried into the first bathroom you found, not really considering the fact it was a communal one and anyone could walk in on you.

—

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed. She had pending matters with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.

So of course she kept an eye out for when you'd return to school. She saw the car drop you off by the gates, following after you as soon as you walked inside.

When Wednesday pushed open the bathroom door, you were standing in front of the mirror, damp paper towels in your hand as you tried to clean a rather nasty cut on your cheek. Your sunglasses rested atop the sink, giving Wednesday a clear view of your eyes; they were a shade of caramel she was all too familiar with, the same ones that have been keeping her company at night.

You tensed up when you noticed her, your hand freezing midair as you were about to throw the paper into the trash can.

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably as none of you seemed to know what to do next. You were shifting on your stance, breathing unsteadily and Wednesday feared you might run away, again.

She took a single step in your direction and asked the one thing she came for; "why have you been stalking me?"

As if breaking from a trance, you looked down and away from her; allowing your hair to fall from behind your ear and hide your profile. "I wasn't stalking you."

"What would you call standing outside my window at late hours of the night only to watch me play the cello?" Wednesday raised her eyebrow pointedly.

You chuckled humourlessly, "now you make me seem like a creep." You felt small under her piercing gaze, embarrassment twirling inside your stomach. Sure, when she said it like that, it sounded weird. But you were just enjoying good music, right?

You slowly turned around to face her, your hands gripping tightly onto the sink's edge behind you. "You never told me to leave," you said quietly.

Any words Wednesday might have thought of died on her tongue. She felt uncharacteristically shy knowing that it was you who'd been witnessing her late-night lullabies. Yet she was also glad that it was you, and not someone else.

You shrugged weakly, focusing your gaze on your feet, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I heard you one night and-" you glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile, fragility still lingering on your heart and making your vision blur over. Even under the cheap artificial light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen; alabaster skin contrasting with soft dark hair, sharp eyes, and burgundy lips — she had your heart on a leash.

"And I was blown away," you continued quietly as your feelings escaped you, "it was like I could feel what you were feeling through the music, and it was so freeing… I had to come back to it."

There was a distant ache in Wednesday's lungs, because she refused to breathe. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage as she took in each of your words. No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you," you breathed.

"Why keep it a secret?" She asked then.

Her sudden gentleness startled you. You've never heard her voice so soft. "I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

It's because of the way your voice breaks at the end, that Wednesday finally looks at you. And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

And you weren't hers. Wednesday knew you weren't hers to worry about, to care for, to protect. Yet she had the annoying urge to do it all anyway.

She wordlessly closed the distance between you, the sound of her boots loud against the bathroom tiles. Taking a few paper towels, Wednesday dampened their edge under the running water of the sink. She hesitated before coming closer, it felt like crossing a line, walking down a road with no way back. Her eyes never left you as she came to stand in front of you.

Your grip on the sink's edge was bruising, knuckles white. You were so quiet, so on edge, so shaky; your eyes had a darkness around them, your lips quivering. It felt all wrong. Wednesday hated seeing you like this, without your usual light.

She raised her hand slowly, stopping short of reaching your cheek, "may I?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth rushing to your heart at the delicacy you didn't know she was capable of. A barrier had fallen between you. When you leaned against her touch, Wednesday started gently cleaning the few places still stained with blood on your skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Wednesday couldn't hold the question back anymore. A different kind of anger bubbled in her chest — one that was mixed with an unusual sense of protectiveness. "Your father?"

"Not him," you choked out, unable to look her in the eyes — not wanting to, "not directly."

Wednesday frowned at that, her eyes tried to chase after yours but you avoided her.

"He makes me do it." A tear rolled down your cheek, you bit into your lip to contain a sob, "he always makes me do it."

Wednesday would never dare call herself an empathetic person, but her chest clenched in pain to see you hurt. One of your tears fell on her thumb that rested on your cheek, and she wanted to take all the pain to herself.

"But I hate it, Wednesday," you told her fiercely, desperate for her to believe you, a new batch of tears coming to your eyes when you finally looked up at her, "I hate the killing."

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

And as you walked through the gardens together, Wednesday could feel the shift in the air. You had told her about the 'stupid tradition', how your family gets together once a year for the hunt, and how you felt dirty, disgusted at the feeling of sinking your canines into the white fur of the rabbit. Yet they still make you do it.

The door to her dorm came before yours. You stopped in front of it with her, nothing but the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling to make you company. The moment felt more intimate than it should be. Wednesday didn't look like the girl who threw pencils at you in class — there was a faint blush to her cheeks and her pupils were blown wide — she looked like someone you could love.

"Why don't you ever take it off?" Wednesday asked, shooting a brief glance at the necklace hanging from your neck.

You take the light pink pendant between your fingers, tracing the nooks and crannies in it, "it was my mom's," you said softly, "she was the only person who ever told me I didn't need to be what others said I was. That I didn't have to carry the sins of my forbearers."

Wednesday nodded softly, glancing up at you before she turned around. Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, she looked at you from over her shoulder, "if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

On what was usually the worst day of the year for you, Wednesday managed to make you go to sleep with a smile.

—

There was suddenly an unspoken thing in the air.

Wednesday went about her day as per usual, following her routine precisely. But there was something making her feel as if spiders were crawling around inside her stomach; it happened each time she walked into a room hoping to find you there, each time she'd feel you looking her way and doing a poor job of pretending otherwise, each time she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door. She felt a little silly, waiting on you like this even if you hadn't given her the slightest hint you'd be coming at all.

But she hoped you would.

It was two minutes past the usual time she'd go out to play her songs, that Wednesday heard three knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal you on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt.

"Hi," you greeted with an awkward smile.

"Hello," she bit back a smile of her own.

You followed after her when Wednesday quietly made her way outside. You felt a little out of place, up here instead of down there on the grass. But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

You figured you'd never be able to settle on watching her from a distance anymore. Not when you'd just had a taste of listening to her music so loud and clear, of watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her — she could feel it though, the weight of your gaze; it was enough.

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon. Maybe you always have been, for all of those nights you laid outside in the cold only to watch her play. She wondered for a moment if that is what love looked like.

And maybe that's the reason why, before even getting up, she decided she'd take that gamble.

"You are so amazing," you breathed out, your lips hovering as you gestured around in search of words good enough to describe your feelings.

Wednesday put her cello aside, getting up from her chair to take the few steps that separated you.

"I mean, every time that I hear you play I'm just-" you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

"I'm just in love," you told her in nothing but a whisper.

Wednesday had taken a hold of your jacket, and she halted only for a second when the word love left your lips. She didn't say it, but the way she was looking at you with the softest of eyes held a lot of love too.

The kiss she pulled you into might have been long overdue, given both of your eagerness. You were quick to grasp her waist and pull her body as close to yours as humanly possible.

Wednesday cupped your cheeks, holding you in place as her nose bumped yours and she gave a gentle nip on your lower lip.

She kept her lips on yours until her lungs screamed for air, pulling away slowly, feeling each one of your deep breaths grazing her lips. Wednesday felt your nails gently pressing against her spine, she felt you trace a path from her jaw to right below her ear where you chose to place a lingering kiss.

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A/N: This is a storyline I'm definitely willing to expand, so if you have any requests regarding Wednesday and her wolf, feel free to send them in.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story #jenna ortega x reader

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piratefishmama · 1 year ago

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Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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tayloralisonswift · 9 months ago

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grief is just kinda like i can’t breathe without you but i have to. i’m hoping you’ll come in with the rain. i’ve still got you all over me. holding my breath, won’t see you again. come on, don’t leave me like this. can’t breathe whenever you’re gone. i used to watch you sleep. i used to feel you breathe. i hope it’s nice where you are. dark grey, all alone. i don’t want to dance if i’m not dancing with you. in dreams i meet you. time is taking its sweet time erasing you. i can’t help but wish you took me with you. i might be okay but i’m not fine at all. i forget about you long enough to forget why i needed to. time won’t fly, it’s like i’m paralyzed by it. i’m a soldier who’s returning half her weight. i wish you knew that i’d never forget you as long as i live. say you’ll remember me. your smile, my ghost, i fell to my knees. i hung my head as i lost the war and the sky turned black like a perfect storm. i reached for you but you were gone. your silence has me screaming. i say i love you, you say nothing back. i dash to the door, you don’t knock anymore, my whole life’s ruined. i slept all alone, you still wouldn’t go. i think about jumping off of very tall somethings just to see you come running - but no. i’d hold you as the water rushes in if i could dance with you again. the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes die all alone. saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts, flashbacks waking me up. paper cut stings from my paper thin plans. who am i supposed to talk to? what am i supposed to do if there’s no you? we were something, don’t you think so? you drew stars around my scars but now i’m bleeding. i knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs. i loved you til my dying day. i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky. you’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town. you showed me colors you know i can’t see with anyone else. some things you just can’t speak about. this has frozen my ground. no other sadness in the world would do. you can run, but only so far. if i didn’t know better, i’d think you were talking to me now. if i didn’t know better, i’d think you were still around. what died didn’t stay dead. you left me no choice but to stay here forever. i lost you, the one i was dancing with. sadness became my whole sky. i’ll be getting over you my whole life. sweet dream was over. every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness. you were bigger than the whole sky. every single thing to come has turned into ashes. i’ve got a lot to live without. memories feel like weapons. i miss who i used to be. i never don’t cry at the bar, my sadness is contagious. you were the one that i loved. in our history, across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise.

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waynes-multiverse · 6 months ago

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Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

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persefolli · 2 years ago

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @myheartfollower, @laylasbunbunny, @destinyl, @deadgirl02, @sweetllamaparadise

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐭. 𝟐 (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝)

You walked into Jake's office, sitting a bag of jewels and beads on his table, ones he’d gift to you. “I'm done Jake. I need to do this now before it's too late.”

Jake looked up at you from his map and scoffed. “Mhm. You said that last time. I'll see you tonight.”

“We're done.” You said more intensely, you heard the shakiness in your own voice.

“You're so pretty when you try to be intimidating.” Jake looked back down at the paper and ignored you.

“Okay.” You nodded. “You wait and see.” You stormed out of his home.

----

Jake waited and waited in your designated meeting spot for what felt like hours. He looked at his watch, then back at the trees in front of him. You were never late, and if anything you knew how much he hated waiting.

He stood from his spot and went walking back to the village, walking straight to your tree where you slept. “Have any of you seen Y/n?” He asked your roommates.

“We just said goodbye to her earlier.”

“Yeah she moved.” Another said nonchalantly.

Jake felt his insides hollow. Moved? No. Couldn't be.

He walked further into the room, seeing that your belongings and hammock were empty.

Like a drunk, he stumbled out of the tree, holding his chest realizing you were serious. He laughed at you, knowing that he would see you later but you were serious this time.

Jake stormed back home, where Neytiri was cleaning up the dinner that he had once again missed. “Jake, you're back early.” She approached.

“Don't you fucking touch me.” He snapped.

Neytiri was taken aback, shocked at his sudden anger. “Jake, is there something-”

“Neytiri if I hear your fucking voice again I swear to god you won't get a good nights rest for days.”

His wife stood bamboozled, unknowing of what happened in the last hour or so that made Jake like this. He didn't even get this angry at her when they had to temporarily leave hometree.

Anger lodged into the leader like a parasite in a fish. The yelling started, the glaring, and the silent treatments remained. Everyone fell victim to his tantrums, even his most- trusted warriors.

Rumor spread that he was angry at Neytiri, for what reason? Who knows? Others said the demon he once was, came back to punish him for turning his back on the other Sky People.

These rumors drove Neytiri insane. She tried everything to make Jake happier, changing her hairstyle, her clothes, initiating alone time, even making him hold Neteyam for hours at a time to at least soothe his soul. But Jake remained a shell. He didn't even look towards Neytiri, and when he held his son his eyes fell grim.

At night Neytiri lay awake next to her husband, thinking. Any signs or any hints about what upset him, because clearly this was bigger than her and their son. Then her mind went back to her lingering thoughts she had months ago.

The late night returns, the random scratches on his back, nicks all over his body, and the underlying scent of another woman.

“Jake.”

He sat hunched over, holding Neteyam in his arms feeding him. He was silent, but his ears flinched up at the sound of Neytiri's voice.

“She left, didn't she?”

Jake snapped his head to look at his wife, but his face remained deadpan. Neytiri let out a frustrated groan and crossed her arms. “What has she provided all this time that you can’t even offer me the time of day?”

“Everything.” He finally spoke. “Everything she is, you are not.”

His jabs didn’t phase her much anymore, but it still hurt her to know that although his mistress left him, and she stayed by his side, he still yearned for the other woman.

You heard little chatters of these rumors, having moved to the outskirts of the village, but you only listened silently with no comments. Jake had to regulate his emotions on his own.

You missed him so, not going a minute without thinking about him, his hands, his whispers.

It was ridiculous how much you thought of him, but being together caused more damage to the both of you, and your families.

#persefolli #persefolliwrites #angst #avatar the way of water #jake sully #avatar #avatar2 #atwow #tonowari #jake x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully angst #avatar jake

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

Text

No Words

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. Miscarriage in the second trimester, intense grief, marital struggles, brief reference to a D&E procedure, mentions of blood, a hopeful ending.

Author’s Note: This was not an easy story for me to write, but it was one I really wanted to tell. Though I have not personally experienced a miscarriage, it’s something that has deeply affected my family, and an experience that many women I know, love, and care about have been impacted by. I don’t think it’s talked about nearly as much as it should be, which is what leads so many people to grieve and suffer in silence. This story is a tribute to the experiences that many people I know have gone through. Please know that if you or someone you know has experienced a miscarriage, you are allowed to grieve and mourn in the ways that you need to. My heart is truly with you.

This story was written for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge. It was inspired by the song Bigger Than the Whole Sky, particularly these lyrics:

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you

There were no words.

As the days faded into weeks, and the weeks melted into months, you tried and failed more times than you could count to find the words to make those around you understand the devastation and grief that you were grappling with.

But there were no words.

How could there be?

How could there be words sufficient enough to explain the way you cried yourself to sleep every night, salty tears soaking your pillow until your body finally took pity on you and allowed you to fall into a restless, miserable slumber?

What could you say to make people understand that the throbbing ache in your body, the pain that still robbed you of breath when you were least expecting it, was surpassed only by the unbearable agony in your heart?

How could mere words convey the thousands of ways your world had fallen apart, the way your dreams had shattered, the way your soul would never be whole again?

They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

And so you had stopped trying.

You had stopped responding to texts from friends. You no longer picked up the phone when your family called. You had groceries delivered to the house.

The kitchen counters, which had once been covered with home-cooked meals and baking supplies, were now littered with restaurant menus and take-out containers.

On the days when you did manage to drag yourself out of bed, you usually made it only as far as the couch, where you’d curl up under your favorite blanket and stare blankly at the walls surrounding you, walls that had been home for well over a year, but which now felt as foreign as the mysterious, far-flung kingdoms you’d read about in the fairytales you’d loved so much when you were a little girl.

But you were no longer a little girl. And this wasn’t a fairytale.

He was worried about you. You knew he was.

You could see it in his blue eyes every time he looked at you, his gaze brimming with the tenderness and deep love that had always made you confident he was going to be yours forever.

“Sweetheart,” he would whisper every night when he came home from work, kneeling beside you where you lay on the couch and gently stroking your cheek with his calloused fingertips.

His name, so precious and beloved to you, always sat right on the edge of your tongue, but you weren’t able to get it out past the lump that seemed determined to remain permanently embedded in your throat. So you’d just look up at him, the sadness in your eyes mirrored in his as he brushed your hot tears away.

And every night, he’d carry you to the bath where he would wash your body clean with gentle hands. If only he could do the same for your heart.

Tucking you into bed, he’d lay beside you and hold you close as you sobbed, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” Over and over and over again, his name falling from your lips like a litany, your voice raw with desperation.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing your back with his strong, sure hands and pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “I know, sweetheart.”

But did he know? He was the only one who could understand what you were going through, but did he really know?

You weren’t sure that he did, and that knowledge cut you deeper than words could express.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You and Bob were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be glowing and bursting with anticipation, waiting any day now for the newest member of your family, your sweet little bundle of joy, to arrive.

But instead, your womb and your arms were empty, and your husband came home every night to a wife who could barely make it through the day without falling apart, a wife who turned away from him when he reached for you, determined to hide from him the tears that still choked you every night, even four months later.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Everything had been going so well. The joy you’d felt when you first saw that little positive sign on your pregnancy test had been exceeded only by the look of pure awe on Bob’s face when you told him the news that he was going to be a father.

You’d had so many grand plans for how you were going to tell him, so many sweet ideas swirling in your brain for how you were going to make this life-changing announcement. But in the end, your excitement had gotten the better of you and you’d found yourself flinging your arms around your husband as soon as he walked through the door, sobbing and laughing in tandem as you shouted, “We’re having a baby!”

You’d done everything right. You took all your prenatal vitamins, went to all your appointments, took care not to put too much strain on your body. Every time you and Bob walked out of your doctor’s office, hand in hand with a new ultrasound picture of your growing babe, you felt like you were floating on air. Was it possible to be so happy?

Turns out, it wasn’t.

Because despite doing everything right, despite taking all your vitamins and eating all the right foods and following all the prenatal exercise plans, despite every appointment going perfectly, despite making it to your second trimester and telling all your family and friends, you were still met with the most devastating words you’d ever been on the receiving end of:

Your baby no longer has a heartbeat.

You had known something was wrong the second you saw the ultrasound technician’s smile falter, her brow furrowing as she gazed intensely at the black screen. The smile she quickly pasted on as she turned to you was tight, though not nearly as tight as Bobby’s grip on your hand as she rose from her stool with a murmured “Please excuse me for a moment” and hurried out of the examination room without a backwards glance.

Your mind knew what your heart refused to accept as the technician returned several painfully long minutes later with your doctor, who took the stool she’d vacated and lifted the ultrasound wand once more, pressing it firmly to your rounded belly. You felt the sob catch in your throat, saw Bobby lower his head as your doctor turned to face you with a sorrowful look in his kind eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Floyd, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat.”

It was all a blur after that. You were aware that your doctor was talking, but he suddenly sounded so far away. You could feel your husband’s eyes on you, his large hands gently squeezing and caressing, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the ceiling of the examination room. Had you ever noticed that it was painted light blue before?

The words came to you in fragmented pieces, none of them seeming to make sense.

Late miscarriage.

Often caused by chromosomal abnormalities or congenital defects.

Never detected in any of your scans.

Sometimes these things just happened, and no one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Being so far along…it would have to be a D&E…could be performed right here in the office…recovery could take up to a couple weeks…

Sometimes these things just happened.

No one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Why?

That was the only question, the only thought at all, that kept echoing in your mind after it was all said and done and Bobby finally brought you home, your body feeling battered beyond repair.

You didn’t cry at all those first couple days, when the anesthesia and the grogginess were still working their way out of your system. You saw the silent tears that streamed down Bob’s face as he held you—he’d taken off two weeks from work to take care of you in the aftermath of the procedure—but you just couldn’t understand. It was like your mind was trying to shield you from the awful reality, from the truth that your baby was gone, by blocking out any consciousness of it.

But that fragile illusion could only last so long.

When you woke one morning to painful cramps, tears glistening on your lashes before you had even opened your eyes, you sat up with a gasp and pushed the covers back, only to find your inner thighs and sheets soaked with blood.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming until Bob came frantically running into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the sight before him as he rushed to your side, cradling your face in his hands until you met his gaze.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “I’m here.”

“The blood, Bobby, the bl—”

“The doctor said it was normal. That it might happen for a couple weeks after the—after the—”

He couldn’t say it, but you knew. With sudden, sickening clarity, the pieces fell into place inside your brain and you could no longer hide from the truth of it.

Your baby was gone.

Once the tears came, they couldn’t stop.

Bob tried everything in his power to give you the comfort that you needed. He held you tightly as you sobbed for hours on end. He patiently accepted how you pushed him away whenever your paralyzing grief turned to raging anger, and he was quick to offer words of forgiveness when you tearfully apologized afterwards. He made sure you ate, made sure you took your medication, made sure you bathed each day, even when the thought of getting out of bed seemed an insurmountable task.

He was so good to you. He loved you so much. Through the haze of your own grief, you knew he was grieving, too. And yet, as the weeks passed into months, you found it harder and harder to talk to him.

There were just no words. Not even for the man who shared the burden of a grief as heavy and desperate as your own.

You had tried so hard in the beginning to make everyone see. To help them understand how you felt. But how could they? Your friends and family were so supportive, constantly checking in and asking what they could do to help, but the answer was nothing. They could do nothing to help. They couldn’t bring your baby back, and that was all you wanted.

Your grief was all-encompassing. You felt like you were drowning in it, and you couldn’t figure out how to make them understand that. You couldn’t make them see that you didn’t know how you were supposed to go on, living with this giant hole in your heart. It felt impossible that someone could still be able to breathe and walk and talk and go through life when their heart had been destroyed so completely.

But still, you tried. For weeks, you tried. You saw the sympathy, the sadness, the desire to help in your loved ones’ eyes. But you never saw that flicker of understanding.

No one understood.

A month after your miscarriage, you decided to try going back to work.

“Are you sure?” Bob asked, worry furrowing his brow after you told him of your intentions. “Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time as you needed,” he reminded you. Your boss had always been a kind man, and that had proven to be even more the case in the wake of your unimaginable loss.

“I know, but I think it might be good to try getting out of the house. Maybe it will help start to take my mind off things,” you told him, trying to offer him a smile, though you had a feeling it came out more like a grimace.

“Okay, sweetheart. But only if you’re sure,” Bob nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He drove you to work the next day, squeezing your hand encouragingly before you could climb out of the car. “I’m going to keep my phone on me at work today. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

As it turned out, you needed him much more quickly than you could have anticipated.

After only being back in the office for a few hours, you locked yourself in the bathroom, the tears streaming down your face as you pulled out your cell phone with trembling hands and called your husband.

“Sweetheart?” Bob’s voice sounded anxious over the line as he picked up after only one ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Bobby, please,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “I need you to come get me.”

Your husband didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Bob was the one who spoke to Mr. Buchanan, wrapping his arm around you and shielding you from the curious glances of co-workers as he led you out of the office building where you’d been working for the past few years.

Neither of you spoke on the drive home. Bob kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead, and you stared out the window, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It wasn’t until the two of you were finally back inside your house and seated on the couch in the living room that Bob slowly asked, “Sweetie, what happened?”

That was when you broke down completely.

“They didn’t even care!” you sobbed, your voice breaking as your shoulders slumped forward and you buried your face in your hands. “They didn’t even—they didn’t—” You could barely catch your breath, you were crying so hard.

“Hey, hey,” Bob murmured soothingly, moving closer to you and wrapping one strong arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he told you in a gentle voice, rubbing slow circles on your back until you calmed down somewhat, small hiccups escaping your lips. “They didn’t what?” he prompted carefully, once he thought you had regained some of your composure.

You looked up at him then, your face streaked with tears and your eyes brimming with a pain he would have given anything in the world to take away from you.

“I—I wanted to t-talk about the—the baby,” you explained in a shaky voice, laying your head on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back. “I just—I wanted to talk. But—but no one would let me. Every time I tried, they just told me how sorry they were and then changed the subject. One w-woman even told me that it would be okay because soon I’d have another b-baby and then I’d forget all about this.” When you looked up at your husband, you saw the pained expression on his face at your words. “Forget about it? How could I ever forget about it? How?” you wailed.

Bob’s jaw clenched as he held you closer, brushing your hair away from your face and pressing kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “People try to be nice, but sometimes they don’t understand how ignorant their words are—how hurtful they can be, whether they mean them to be or not,” he said, his voice pinched as he tried to remain calm and steady for you.

“No one cared, Bobby! They didn’t even want to know his name! It’s like he didn’t matter, like he didn’t even exist. But he did!” you cried, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck and clinging to him as you fell apart.

“Yes, he did, sweetheart. He did. He was our son,” Bob whispered, leaning back on the couch and pulling you onto his chest as you continued to weep.

You and Bob had known you were having a baby boy. You’d found out just a few weeks before you’d lost him.

“A boy! Oh my goodness, Bobby, a boy!” you’d exclaimed happily when you’d opened the envelope from your doctor’s office. “Are you happy, honey?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your husband and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Bob beamed proudly, turning slightly so that he could capture your lips with his own in a sweet kiss. “So happy, sweetheart. I love you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on your small bump. “You and our little guy.”

The two of you had even picked out a name—Oliver Robert Floyd.

“We could call him Ollie,” you giggled one night as you and Bob were lying together in bed, fingers intertwined as you dreamed together of who your baby would be.

“I like that,” Bob nodded, his face splitting into a wide grin as he gazed at you. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up with a call sign of his own one day,” he teased.

“Oh, would you like that? To be an aviator like Daddy?” you asked, glancing down at your belly and poking gently. You felt a tiny flutter in response, which made your heart sing. “He says he’d like that,” you told Bob, laughing brightly as your husband lowered his head to kiss you.

But Ollie would never get to be an aviator like his daddy. He would never get to be a little boy with big dreams. He would never get to be a man who carried on all the things you and Bob had taught him. He would never get to be anything.

Your son was gone.

But he had been here once. He had been real. You had felt him.

You couldn’t just forget him. You would never forget him.

And yet your co-workers and colleagues didn’t even care to know that he had a name.

After that disastrous first day back to work, everything started to go downhill. Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time off as you needed, and you did. You didn’t want to go anywhere. You didn’t want to do anything. You didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to be left alone.

No one understood. No one knew what it was like to have to say goodbye to the child you had never even gotten to meet, never gotten to hold in your arms or give gentle kisses to. No one knew what it was to wake up every day and wonder who your child could have been, would have been, should have been.

It was a pain, a grief, an agony that you carried alone.

As time continued to pass, and the hurt only seemed to get worse and not better, you found it too difficult even to talk to your husband about it. And that hurt, because you loved your Bobby more than anything in the world. But as the weeks continued to slip by, it felt like he was able to move forward, to continue with his life, while you were caught in this intangible place of mourning. He was moving on, and you were stuck here, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do much of anything.

Bob could feel the distance growing between the two of you. You knew he could. He’d reach for you, and you’d stiffen or pull away. He’d try to talk, and you’d tell him you were tired and needed to lay down.

The hurt that flashed across his face each time you pulled away was like a constant knife in your heart, but you didn’t know what to do. The chasm just kept widening every day, and you no longer knew how to cross it.

“I stopped by Dr. Morales’ office today on my lunch break and picked this up,” Bob told you one night when he returned home from work. You were sitting on the couch and just blinked at him blankly. He set the glossy pamphlet down in front of you. “It’s for a support group at the hospital. For women who have miscarried or lost their babies. Dr. Morales highly recommended it. He thinks it would be good for you.”

You just stared down at the pamphlet, but didn’t make a move to grab it. You didn’t say anything either, just continued to sit in silence.

“Sweetheart, I really think that we should—”

“I’m tired,” you said flatly, rising off the couch slowly and turning in the direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetie, please.” Bob begged, reaching for your hand, which you swiftly pulled out of his grasp.

“I just want to be alone,” you snapped, more harshly than you intended. Swallowing, you tried to look away from the pain that bloomed across your husband’s face.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I just…” Bob sighed, hanging his head. “Go get some rest.”

Turning away and fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over once more, you wrapped your arms around yourself and stumbled on unsteady feet towards your room. You resolutely refused to look at the door on your right as you passed by it, the door that had remained firmly shut since the day you had been given the news that your baby had no heartbeat.

All you wanted to do was sleep. At least when you were asleep, you could escape the pain that had been your constant companion these past four months. Not to mention, you could also escape the reality of the constant pain you’d been inflicting on your husband lately.

He was so good, so full of gentleness and love and compassion, and you just felt so broken.

Crawling under the covers, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to think about how perfect things had seemed just a few months ago.

When you woke with a start a few hours later, your bedroom swathed in darkness, you were startled to realize your husband wasn’t beside you. It felt as though he’d never come to bed at all. Trying to swallow back the nausea you sensed rising up your throat, you pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed slowly, padding across the room on quiet feet.

When you opened your bedroom door, you were met with darkness in the rest of the house.

Where was he?

Taking a tentative step into the hallway, you began moving slowly in the direction of the living room and that was when you saw the light up ahead. It was faint, as it was spilling from behind a door that was only partially ajar.

The door you hadn’t opened in four months.

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, but you forced your feet to keep moving, one in front of the other Your pulse quickened in your veins and your breathing grew more shallow the closer you came, until you were standing right outside the room.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you carefully pushed on the door to your son’s nursery, widening the opening without stepping inside.

You had thought your heart was already broken beyond repair, but what you saw in that moment proved that that must not have been true, because you surely felt your heart break all over again.

There, kneeling on the floor beside the crib that he had proudly spent hours putting together with his own two hands, was your sweet husband, cradling the little teddy bear that the two of you had bought not long after you first discovered you were pregnant. The first gift you’d purchased for your baby boy.

Bob had his face buried in the bear’s fuzzy belly, his back turned so that he didn’t see you standing in the doorway. You were fairly certain he wouldn’t have been able to see you anyway, not through the tears.

Your husband was weeping, a heart wrenching sound that immediately cut through the fog that had been blanketing your heart and mind for weeks.

Letting out a soft cry, you immediately raced into the room that you had sworn you would never look at again—the nursery that you and Bob had spent so many happy weeks designing and decorating and organizing before all your big dreams had come to a crashing halt. Collapsing on the floor beside your husband, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close as he cried.

“Why?” Bob rasped, the tears streaming down his face as he lifted his head slightly, still clutching the teddy bear tightly to his chest. “Why?”

You felt the tears running down your own face as you shook your head, cradling his head against your chest and running your fingers through his honeyed hair. “I don’t know. I keep asking myself that same thing, but I don’t know. I don’t have any answers,” you admitted, resting your cheek against his soft hair.

Bob clung to you desperately, like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver. You held him just as tightly, the two of you weeping together in the center of the nursery your son would never get to see.

“I miss him,” Bob confessed quietly, his voice laced with such agony that it pierced you straight through. “He should be here with us, and he isn’t, and it isn’t right. It isn’t right,” he sniffed, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. “I miss him so much.”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. More than words can describe,” you cried, stroking his hair. “Every day, I wake up and for a second I think I’m going to feel him still inside me, or hear him crying in the nursery, and then reality hits me and I—I just can’t do it. I can’t even get out of bed some days.”

“I don’t want to either most days,” Bob told you, looking up to meet your gaze with his watery blue eyes. He’d never told you that before. “I wake up in the morning and I go through the motions and I get in the car and drive to work and I cry the whole way there.”

“You do?” you asked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “You never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Bob admitted, suddenly looking ashamed. “I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be your rock.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, reaching to cup your husband’s face in your hands.

“You’ve been through so much, and you’ve been suffering, and I didn’t want to add to any of your pain or make it harder for you in any way. I wanted to take it all away. And I knew I couldn’t do that if you were worrying about me on top of everything else,” he explained, a few stray tears trickling down his cheeks, which you brushed away with your thumbs.

“We’ve both been through so much,” you insisted, caressing his cheek lightly. “And you shouldn’t have to carry your grief alone. We’re supposed to carry it together,” you told him, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath before opening them again and continuing, “I thought—I thought maybe you were moving on.”

“What? No! Never,” Bob shook his head adamantly, cupping the back of your head and holding you close to him. “Did you think—oh, God, you didn’t think that I was just getting over it, did you?”

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. “I didn’t know what to think. It felt like—I knew you were grieving, but our grieving looked so different and I didn’t understand yours and it felt like you were moving forward and I was just stuck here and I was going to be left behind because you were learning how to live with it and how to move on and I couldn’t and I—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bob gasped, the teddy bear still clutched in one of his hands as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his nose against yours, seeking an intimate, close contact with you. “Oh, my love. No, no, no. I would never leave you behind. Never,” he promised, his lips brushing warmly against your forehead. “I was struggling because I didn’t know how to help you. It felt like everything I said was the wrong thing and every time I tried to get closer, you kept pulling back, and I was so scared to see you withdrawing like that, and I just didn’t want to push you too far. But I should have been honest with you. I should have let you see that I’ve been struggling, too. So much.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,” you apologized tearfully, burying your face in his neck. “It’s been so hard trying to make people understand how I’m feeling. But I realize now that, as much as they may love me and want to help, they’ll never really be able to understand. But you do. You lost him, the same way that I did. You’re the only person I can share this grief with. And I’m so sorry that I pushed you away instead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Bob murmured softly, wiping your tears away with gentle fingers. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Grief is messy, and right now we’re in the middle of the mess. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Maybe a part of us will be here forever. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. And I want us to get through this together,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tenderly.

“I want that, too,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the last word.

Bob pulled you into his lap and the two of you sat for a while in silence, your husband rocking you slowly back and forth as you sat on the floor of the nursery. You looked around at the walls, which you and Bob had painted a light blue—“Like the sky,” Bob had smiled when you’d chosen the color.

“I thought I’d never be able to come in here again,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip. “I thought—I thought it would hurt too much.”

“I know,” Bob nodded, kissing the tip of your nose. “I know you never wanted this door open. But tonight, I just felt like I had to come in here. And when I did—well, it felt like a moment frozen in time, y’know? I looked at the crib and the rocking chair and the toys and the clothes and I just…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I just broke down. I just kept thinking about what could have been. What should have been. And who he would have been,” he murmured, running his fingers through the ends of your hair. “Sometimes I feel so broken, and other times I feel so angry.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” you told him, curling up against his chest. “I feel the same way.” You paused for a moment, turning something over in your mind before you went on. “I think part of me is afraid to let go of all this grief and anger because—well, because it’s all I have left. And if I let it go, I feel like it means I’m letting him go,” you admitted, your voice breaking as you started to cry again. “And I don’t want to let him go. I don’t.”

“Oh, honey,” Bob whispered comfortingly, squeezing you close to his chest. “I don’t want to let him go either. But you know what?”

“What?” you sniffled, wiping at your nose and looking up at your husband.

“We don’t have to,” he told you, grasping your chin in his hand and gazing deeply into your eyes. “He will always be our son. Always. No matter what some lady at work or anybody else says. He wasn’t just some moment, here one minute and gone the next. We’ll always have him.”

You nodded at that, your tears trickling down your cheeks and soaking his hand, which was still holding onto your chin firmly.

“But I don’t think that means we have to hold onto the pain forever,” Bob continued, kissing away your tears with gentle lips. “The grief will always be with us. We’ll carry it in our hearts forever. But I do believe that we’re going to be happy again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But soon. We’re going to be okay, sweetheart. I know we are.”

And for the first time in four months, you really believed that. For the first time since your life had come to a standstill, you had hope that tomorrow would be a brighter day. Like Bob said, the grief would always be there, a pain that you would have to learn to live with over time. And you would learn to live with it, so long as you had this man by your side.

Shifting in Bob’s arms so that you were facing him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, a bit shyly at first and then with more confidence. “I love you so much, Robert Floyd. I always will. Forever.”

Bob smiled, a genuine smile, and cupped your cheek in his hand as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a while longer until Bob finally rose, lifting you up as well. “Do you mind if I bring this with us to our room?” he asked, holding up the teddy bear he’d been holding tightly to all this time.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you told him with a small smile, leaning against his side as he led you out of the nursery. Once the both of you were out in the hallway, he reached back to shut the lights off and was going to close the door, when you suddenly said, “Leave it open.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at you.

You were quiet for a moment, but then you nodded. “I’m sure.”

Gazing at you proudly, Bob slipped his arm around your waist and led you down the hallway to your bedroom, where the two of you slipped under the covers and found your way back into one another’s arms.

And as you slowly fell asleep, resting safely atop your husband’s chest, you realized the ache in your chest had lessened for the very first time.

You and Bob would survive this grief, together.

You would be okay.

Your husband had finally given you the words you had been searching for.

#top gun taylors version #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x wife!reader #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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gotasenseivebeenbetrayed · 7 months ago

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peter

"Preserved from when we were just kids" "The goddess of timing Once found us beguiling"

The first part, they were 18 and 22 when they first got together and during the beginning of their relationship and "beguiling" means enchanting/charming - and the World was enchanted by them when they were together (aside from the haters) and then even while they were off and on over the years, he was always the one that she said would come in and out of her life and they'd "never be over", all which still fits with that beguiling line.

"I thought it was just goodbye for now"

"You said you were gonna grow up Then you were gonna come find me"

This is NOT giving me Matty vibes at all and I'll die on that hill. Again, 18 and 22 fits here more than 24 and 25. Sure, you're still growing at 24/25 don't get me wrong but, Matty was very much not saying "I'm going to grow up and come find you one day" at 25 years old in the height of his addiction and during his "I can't be with someone bigger than me because I want success on my own". This is giving "I was 18 when we got together and I need to figure my shit out but, one day we'll be together when I do". This also fits her saying he was always in and out of her life. She's been waiting for him to grow up and come find her again.

"But life was always easier on you Than it was on me"

She got way more hate during their relationship than he did, as she mentions in Slut! On top of the fact, he dated/had flings with many women back to back and never got shit for it but, she dates men back to back and gets hated for it. Granted, that could fit just about any male if we're honest but, she specifically wrote Slut! about Harry so.

"When crossing your jet stream We both did the best we could do Underneath the same moon In different galaxies"

This is giving me very much "we were constantly traveling for work and maybe my jet would cross over yours and we'd end up in the same place and try to make it work and then again when we were so far away from each other". It's also interesting that this album has quite a bit of talk about galaxies/aliens/moons and then circus/con men etc. when the last two MVS we got from Harry were "Satellite" and "Daylight" - Satellite which has the imagery of the sky/galaxy and saying he's waiting for her and then we have "Daylight" which is a circus theme MV.

"And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned"

Here she's saying she dated other men during their time apart but, she was always still waiting for him to return to her and tell her he's grown up, figured out what he wanted, and that it's her.I also get the vibe she mentions men specifically because she was talking about him still being a "boy", so she dated men waiting for him - Calvin/Tom because they were her age range and they were "masquerading" as her boyfriend.

"And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired"

This specific line is what has everyone thinking Matty but, they MET when he was 25. He was not laying all these promises out to her then and that's not what this line is saying to me. It's saying that the muse made all these promises to her BEFORE he turned 25 and then they saw each other again when he was 25 - he told her "I made those as a kid, they've expired now that we're older, they were just fantasies". Harry was 25 when he released Fine Line and when they saw each other at Ed's wedding. My guess is that was the first time they'd seen each other in a while and there was a talk that night and he might've said something along those lines or she took it that way.

All of this to also say the obvious ties of "Peter" and this song bringing the Peter Pan imagery and then "Peter Losing Wendy" reference in "Cardigan" which is obviously about Harry Styles. The fact people want to connect that with Matty now because they think this song is Matty is wild. Matty was not that young when they met, 25 is still a grown ass adult. Technically Harry was 17 when he met Taylor and who knows if they actually dated before he turned 18 or not. But James in Cardigan acts like a 17/18 year old Harry probably would've acted vs a 25 year old man. And even IF Matty and Taylor had a thing back then, it was an incredibly quick fling. Sleeping together and maybe a few dates but, they were definitely never in a relationship. She did not write Cardigan about a short fling.

#haylor

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profound-imagination · 1 year ago

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Memories - Azriel (Cassian's POV)

In which Cassian recalls how Azriel knows that Cassian would feel it in his chest if Nesta had died in the Rite.

A/N: Just a little something that was in my head. Does this count as Angst? I think it does! I've taken some liberties with the battle in ACOWAR.

W/C: 1K

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"You'd know if she'd died," Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother's chest with a scarred hand. "Right here - you'd know, Cass." Cassian let out a breath at the Shadowsinger's words. In his fury, in his dread, his worry over Nesta and Feyre and Rhys he'd almost forgotten how Azriel would know that. At his brother's words he was taken back to that fateful day just over a year ago.

Cassian stood on the battlements of the crumbling castle with his brothers. The three of them were bloodied and bruised. Rhys drained almost all of his power in their last stand. "We can't win this." Feyre half sobbed into Rhys' shoulder, clinging to her mate, savoring what she thought were their last moments together. Both of their eyes unfocused and Cassian knew they were saying their goodbyes. He felt more than saw Azriel tense next to him, he knew who Azriel was looking for, his mate who he hadn't seen since their argument the night before over Elain.

Nesta was next to him. If this was his final moments, he was glad she was here, he'd go down before her, he'd go down for her. Nesta gasped and the entire family turned to look at her, she lifted a shaking finger and pointed to the field, empty of the living, both sides having pulled back for a brief reprieve. "Who is that?" Nesta whispered. Something was approaching in the sky, it was bigger than any creature Cassian knew and as it got closer he could see someone was riding atop it.

He saw the talons and scales first. Then he smelt death, fire and brimstone as it flew directly towards them. "It's not possible." Rhys breathed. "It can't be." Amren murmured back to the High Lord. "They went extinct a millennia ago." Sweet Elain let go of Nesta's hand, took a step forward and breathed one word. "Dragon."

Azriel had gone completely still next to him, Cassian knew his brother had figured out who was atop the beast flying for them. He looked to Rhys, who met his eyes and joined Cassian in flanking their brother, they knew what was coming before it came.

The murmuring of the armies behind them grew restless and the energy nervous as three other dragons flanked her. All smaller than the one she rode but Cassian knew he wouldn't want to face any of them as he finally saw the beast up close. Azriel's mate hovering In front of them all. Azriel took a step forward, breathing her name in a plea. Wordlessly, Cassian and his brother both placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, ready to act when they needed to, Feyre also ready to keep Azriel with them. The beast let out a grumble from deep in its chest, a sound that promised death Cassian thought.

She smiled at Azriel then, wild and feral, Cassian knew it was his brother's favourite. "Live, Azriel." She said and turned to Elain, "Look after him Seer, keep him safe. Don't let him destroy himself." He and Rhys tightened their grip on their brother as Azriel realised her plan and started to pull away from them. Cassian had never heard Azriel sound as broken as he did when he repeated her name. "You found me, Az, living like a wildling in the Middle, you gave me a life and taught me everything, now you must live. My friends and I will buy you the chance to do that." A single tear ran down her face. His little wildling is what Azriel called her, Cassian recalled. "Let's go." She spoke quietly to the beast, she took one last look at Azriel who was fighting to get to her now. "I love you, Azriel." And she was gone, flying towards death on the back of a beast that shouldn't exist.

They watched it happen, Rhys had one of Azriel's arms, he had the other. Varian had helped them restrain him, it was the first and only time Azriel nearly broke both of their holds on him. They watched the smaller dragons fall first, having taken massive parts of Hybern with them. Azriel's knees gave out when she finally went down, then he began to scream. Cassian had never heard a sound like it, not from his brother, not from anyone. Azriel lost all fight then as he collapsed, Mor was there instantly, cradling him like a babe, Elain nearby, Feyre doing her best to offer soothing words. Azriel clawed at his chest as the bond faded, then the pain of it took his consciousness completely.

She'd done what she had promised she'd do and she'd bought them a chance, they formed the lines one final time, Amren and Feyre going for the cauldron. Mor had winnowed Azriel and Elain back to camp and left them there and she returned to join the lines. Rhys gave them one last command before they advanced. "Bring her home. Prythians savior deserves to rest at home."

Cassian came back to the present to find Azriel giving him a knowing look, as if his brother knew what he'd just re-lived. Neither brother said anything for a moment and then Cassian asked, "How do you do it? Go on?" Azriel stopped sharpening Truth Teller and sheathed it at his thigh, "Because Rhys commanded me too." Cassian hadn't known that. "I still see her every night, re-live that last argument and I watch her die, feel her die." Cassian had no words for his brother. "Nesta will not meet the same fate." Azriel told him.

Cassian threw himself at his brother and Azriel allowed a rare hug. He needed Azriel to know he was sorry for his loss, needed him to know that he was so thankful everyday that he was still here and needed to thank him for his words and reassurance but he couldn't find the words, so he held his brother instead and sent a prayer to the Mother for Nesta, for Emerie and Gywn and finally for his brother, that he might know love again one day when he was ready.

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Tags: @bubybubsters

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #cassian #cassian acotar

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missholloween · 2 months ago

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31. A kiss goodbye with Samuel/Margaret

It was early morning. The sun had barely woken up, lazily warming the night’s blues with its yellows and oranges. Samuel Stratford was looking at the sky, lost in thought.

Sunrise had always been one of Samuel’s favorite parts of the day: for a brief fraction of time, the waking world met the dreaming, not quite awake yet. It was a moment of peace, away from the noise of the press or the racket of the streets, way before the world started turning.

During his youth, Samuel used sunrise as a moment to think when something was on his mind. As he grew older, he had to let go of the habit, as his work at the paper stand and later The Sun would steal most of his time.

That morning, though, he found himself with a notebook in his hands and his eyes locked on the sun, which shone brighter than it ever had. Was that part of Lincoln Island’s magic too, those golden lights? Was it another one of the Blazing World’s gifts, far away from his grip? Was it just another wonder for him to witness?

Samuel had been a storyteller for many years, and had learned how to look way before that. Why now was he unable to do it without feeling self-conscious? Why now was he feeling useless? Everyone on the island seemed to be working towards something, a brushstroke in a bigger picture Samuel was just beginning to see. Was there a place for his paintbrush? Or would he just fade beneath the colors of others?

“Some things never change, don’t they? You’re always with your notebook.”

Margaret was leaning at the room’s door, looking at Samuel.

Ever since they had arrived, Margaret hadn’t stayed still. Samuel had never seen Margaret happier, always talking with someone, doing something that would get her closer to her lost memories. Samuel wasn’t quite sure of what she had done, but, by the look on her face and the dirt on her dress, it didn’t seem easy.

“Good morning, Margaret– Or good night? I don’t think I saw you go to bed last night.”

“I was with Sia and my brother out in the fields–”

“Your brother?” Samuel asked, leaving his notebook on the side.

Margaret couldn’t hold her smile. She also couldn’t fight the tears. “Dakkar.” She felt how the name felt right in her mouth, how much she had missed it. “I remembered, Samuel, in the fields!”

Margaret’s glee was contagious. Samuel quickly up and embraced her, holding her close to his chest. He felt Margaret’s grip, as strong as his. He felt her breath on his chest, as well as the tears that ran through her face.

“I’m so happy for you, Margaret.” Samuel noticed his voice was breaking too, although he didn’t know why.

After some seconds the couple separated, sitting near the window at Granite House.

“Tell me everything!” Samuel said, full of enthusiasm. “How was it? Have you remembered everything yet?– Oh! Are there any new magic ways you’ve discovered?” Samuel noticed how his words were getting faster and faster. “… Or maybe tell me how you’re feeling?”

Margaret laughed softly, gently caressing Samuel’s hand. “I feel… I feel like myself. Every time I use my magic, every time I remember something new, I am closer to the person I used to be… And it feels right.”

Samuel couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s so much more for you to discover...”

“There’s so much more for us to discover.” Margaret got closer to Samuel, taking his hands. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Samuel.”

“I bet you could’ve found another writer elsewhere–”

“But they wouldn’t be as intelligent, or hardworking, or resilient, or lovely as you are.” Samuel laughed, as Margaret continued talking. “No matter what will happen, I know you’ll be there.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s so much more than most do.”

Margaret got closer to Samuel and leaned in for a kiss. It was gentle, gentle as he had always been to her. Samuel got closer to Margaret, reducing the distance between both of them. For a moment, nothing would separate them. It felt right. They didn’t let go until Samuel ran out of breath.

“I’ll be going to get some sleep,” said Margaret. “See you in the morning?”

Samuel laughed. “Is that what we’re calling the afternoon now?”

“I guess it is now.” Margaret leaned in and kissed Samuel’s forehead. “Goodbye, Samuel.”

#i almost did this for great things because i wasn't ready to write episode 4. but i powered through <- cried so much through writing #pulp musicals #radiant words #samuel stratford #margaret cavendish #the searcher in the shadows #tsits spoilers #pulp 4 spoilers #<- just in case #hope you like it :]#and thanks for the ask <3 #hyl writes

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anonymityisfunwriter · 9 months ago

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The Twin Flame - Chapter 39: "Bigger Than The Whole Sky"

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky, you were more than just a short time. And I've got a lot to pine about, I've got a lot to live without, I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"Bucky!" Sam bellows down the hall, running as fast as he can down the hall. He skids around the corner of the hospital corridor, desperate for any update on you.

He halts the second he sees Bucky.

Sam's blood immediately runs cold. He isn't quite sure what it is about the scene that does it, but he assumes the worst. It hits him like a truck. The familiar ache of dread. The silence right before the storm breaks over the horizon, before it consumes every ounce of sunshine in its path, before it consumes him.

No words appear before him in the aftermath. There's nothing to say. Nothing to do.

He watches from all the way down the hall. The nurse bows her head at Bucky, murmuring something that Sam can't quite make out from his distance. He can't bring himself to take another step forward.

It's over.

And he's not ready for that. He's not ready to turn to the last page. He knows what awaits them there. He's certain Bucky will understand and agree. They're not ready for a story that doesn't have you in it.

He'll stand in the hallway forever if it means that it's not over. He'll stay here forever if it means he doesn't have to say goodbye.

Bucky hangs his head, holding it in his hands. It's as close to the fetal position as a grown man in a hospital waiting room can get. Sam is positive that he's never seen Bucky doubled over like he's going to be sick.

The worst hangs over his head. This is it. The worst. There would never be another goodbye as hard as this one.

His lips refuse to form the words. Goodbye. It was so simple. A fleeting word with an everlasting impact. Goodbye. It tastes bitter in his mouth. It poisons all his thoughts. His mouth falls open. All that can be heard is a breath that sounds as hollow as Sam feels. Goodbye.

How do you say goodbye to something, to someone, that was bigger than the whole sky? How do you say goodbye to someone that would forever reside in your heart?

He can't help it. He can't bring himself to have hope.

After the events of tonight, with the memory of finding you lying in a pool of your own blood fresh in his mind, hope is sparse. Hope was left in the pool of blood he found you in. Hope was left in the tears, the ragged sobs Karli shed for you. Hope, was something he simply didn't have in this moment.

He can't bring himself to say words he doesn't believe.

His leadened feet start leading him to the where Bucky remains hunched over, hugging himself like his arms are the only thing holding him together.

Sam's body tenses itself on instinct, bracing himself for the most painful loss he'll ever face.

A few feet away from Bucky, Sam's hoarse voice weakly calls out, "Bucky?"

"Sam..." Bucky's head snaps up, immediately sitting up straight. He immediately sighs in relief, "Thank God, you're here."

"Is she-"

Bucky's frantic voice steamrolls over Sam's dreaded question, "They won't tell me anything, Sam. I've asked everybody in this entire fucking building and no one will tell me anything. I've yelled, begged, pleaded, threatened, and nothing. I almost put a fucking hole in the wall. I tried lying and telling them - you know, it doesn't matter what I said, they just keep tellin' me immediate family only."

"Okay. Okay," The knot in Sam's throat loosens ever so slightly. He places his hand on Bucky's shoulder, mostly to keep Bucky from angrily bounding out of his seat. "We'll figure it out."

"That's her doctor, right there," Bucky points out the doctor he watched dart in and out of the hospital waiting room all night.

"Excuse me," Sam frantically calls after the doctor.

The doctor stops in his tracks, sighing something under his break. He turns around with an expression that borders on irritation. Sam can only imagine the amount of times Bucky demanded an update. The doctor tucks his clipboard against his chest. He turns on his heels, and Sam's not sure what it is, but the doctor's expression morphs from irritation to almost apologetic at the sight of the distress on Sam's face, "As I've told your friend, sir, I can only disclose information to immediately family."

"Me," Sam insists. "I'm her immediate family, she's my sister... And I'm also her legal guardian."

The doctor quirks an eyebrow at Sam, "She's in her late twenties."

Sam frowns, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly, "Are you going to tell me how she is or not?"

The doctor's eyes flicker between Sam and Bucky for a moment. He sighs in concession, "The last update I received was about an hour ago, it was touch and go. She lost an extraordinary amount of blood. To be quite frank, I'm shocked she held on as long as she did. Take solace in the fact that your sister is a fighter."

Sam nods, the frown melting off his face back to a concerned, pained expression, "Thank you."

"As soon as I know anything, I'll come find you," the doctor assures before scurrying away.

Sam trails back to the seat beside Bucky. He slumps down beside Bucky, knowing there was nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

"I didn't think I'd be here again," Sam confesses after a long while.

They're not sure how much time has passed in silence, all they know is that hope is getting harder to hold onto with the clocking ticking over their heads. Every doctor that passes them is another that reminds them of the doctors working to save your life. They wait with bated breath for anyone to tell them anything.

"Neither did I."

"She didn't want this life." Sam isn't even sure why he's telling Bucky this. He doesn't know what point he's trying to make. He just knows that right now, there was an immense weight on him that he couldn't carry alone. "Everyone knew it. I knew it. Steve knew it. Tony knew it. Nick Fury knew it. We all knew it. And not one of us ever put a stop to it. And now, now, she just - she doesn't know a life without the next fight around the corner."

"If anyone's been there for her, it's you. Every step of the way. Good, bad, and ugly."

"I was- " Sam's breath wavers, just barely noticeable to even Bucky's super soldier hearing, "I was so concerned with fixing everything, fixing her, that I didn't even stop to ask if she was okay."

Bucky remains silent, pensively staring at his clenched hands.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Sam urges.

"I don't want to say the wrong thing," Bucky softly mutters.

"I don't think there's a right or wrong thing to say."

"I feel like a dick," Bucky exhales.

Sam chortles at the brashness of Bucky's words. It was, without a doubt, the wrong thing to say, but there was something oddly comforting about it anyway. "That's definitely not the right thing to say."

"Told you." Bucky allows a beat of silence. He's not sure Sam knows all the ways he screwed up. He's not sure he wants Sam to know how he'd broken your heart. "I just - I keep fucking up, Sam. I messed up. A lot."

"I know," Sam agrees. It surprises Bucky that Sam knows how badly he messed up. There's a part of him that still wonders if Sam really knows everything or if you left out some of Bucky's worst transgressions. He can't imagine that Sam wouldn't have at least tried to kick his ass if he knew about the things he said to you after Tony's funeral. "And I won’t lie, a part of me wants to kick your ass for leaving her like that… But an even bigger part knows it was the right thing. For both of you."

"Both of us?" Bucky questions, finally picking his gaze up off the floor.

"If you hadn’t noticed, she needed to figure out some things for herself. You both did. I know life doesn't give us a lot of guarantees, but you two-"

"Gentleman," a new, different doctor approaches, cutting off Sam. "I was your friend's surgeon tonight."

Sam and Bucky immediately jump to their feet, waiting for their next cue. Would they finally breath that long awaited sigh of relief? Would they dissipate into a puddle of tears like a crumpled up piece of paper? Sam urges with desperation thick in his voice, "And?"

"And she made it through surgery," the surgeon replies. "It was touch and go for a while. To be quite frank, there were times where we thought we lost her. She lost a tremendous amount of blood tonight. There were extensive internal injuries, but by some stroke of luck, the knife narrowly missed anything that could've done much more permanent damage."

"Can you please just skip to the part where you tell us if she's okay?" Bucky asks through gritted teeth.

The surgeon withers slightly underneath Bucky's intense glare, he nods, "She's in recovery right now. She suffered quite substantial injuries of all different kinds. Frankly, most people wouldn't have made it onto an ambulance. In any other case, I would be very weary about making any promises or guarantees for recovery, but if I were a gambling man, I'd bet on your friend."

Hope swells in Sam's chest for the first time in a very long time. He breathes a sigh of relief, raising his hands on the top of his head as he takes a long, deep breath, "So she's okay?"

"She's very lucky," the surgeon repeats. "Once she's out of recovery, we'll move her to the ICU. You can see her then."

"Thank you."

The doctor takes one singular step before stopping. He softly exhales, and turns around to face Sam and Bucky once more, "And gentlemen? A word of advice?" Sam nods, remaining silent to allow the doctor to continue. "Whatever your friend was doing tonight-"

"I told you, it was a mugging," Bucky interrupts.

The doctor nods, not believing a word of the Bucky's off the cuff cover story. It wasn't a very good cover up, even Bucky could admit that, but his concern upon arrival wasn't creating an elaborate story. No, he'd been far too rattled for that. His one and only concern was you.

"There is no scientific reason that your friend should've survived," the surgeon matter of factly states. "Whatever your friend was doing, it will get her killed. Not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but one day. Luck only lasts so long."

A heaviness tugs at Sam's heart as any trace of a smile melts off of his face as the doctor's words sink down to the very pit of Sam's stomach. He nods once more, "Thank you, Doctor."

While they wait, all Bucky and Sam can do is think about what the doctor said. They hated how right the doctor was. They hated how you were never given a choice.

Most of all, they hate the idea that one day you may not get up.

One day, you may not be so lucky.

One day, there would be a goodbye, one final goodbye, a real one. A goodbye that couldn't be taken back.

They weren't ready for that. They wouldn't ever be ready for that.

Sam can't stop thinking about what the doctor said. Not even for one second to rejoice in the fact that you survived. Yes, you survived tonight, but how long before your luck ran out? How long before your own humanity caught up with you?

You defied all scientific reason. There was no explanation. No rhyme. No reason. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, two of the greatest scientists to have walked the Earth, found nothing to explain the phenomena of you. There was no reason. Did a bird flap its wings over in Asia? Did some force will you into existence? There was no answer.

There were others, in the place from before, there were others that didn't survive. You were the lone survivor and no one could figure out how or why. There was no logical reason behind the way you always got back up. Every time, without fail. There was no reason that you lasted as long as you had. The way you got up after every fight, every battle, every loss, defied all expectation, defied everything known and then some.

But more than any of that, you were a person.

And there would be no other you. That much was clear - both to Bucky and Sam. There would never be a person that could do what you did. No person with the spirit, the heart, the goodness within them.

You weren't a scientific anomaly. Not some experiment. Not a weapon or a political pawn. Just a person.

Through it all, Sam never lost sight of that. He knew down to the depths of his bones that you never wanted this. You held your head high, fought with honor and dignity. None of it changed that this was not the life you wanted. You loved your found family. You loved Nick Fury. Steve Rogers. Tony Stark. Natasha Romanoff. The list went on and on of the reasons why you stayed.

And still, given the choice, he knows you'd give it up for a quiet life. For a life spent by the garden, soaking up the sun, life without constantly looking over your shoulder. For a life of peace.

Not that anyone asked you what you wanted. It was never a choice placed in your hands. You both were acutely aware of that.

Your future hadn't been yours in quite some time. Your dreams. Your hopes. Your aspirations. Over the years, they'd been lost, scattered and abandoned on the path to becoming a hero.

No, no one asked you what you wanted. But the worst part by far, the part that left Sam reeling and wondering, was when, or even why, he stopped asking you that too? His jaw tenses, his teeth painfully grinding together as he combs through his memory trying to remember the point that he gave up on your future too.

He couldn't remember the last time he asked you what you wanted, what you envisioned your life to be like.

"Gentlemen?" Their heads snap up. A nurse stands before the two of them, she warmly smiles at Sam and Bucky, "Your friend is out of recovery. She isn't awake quite yet, but if you'd like to see her, I can take you."

"Yes, please," Bucky hoarsely whispers, his voice breaking with despair.

The nurse moves quickly, guiding and aiming them through the labyrinth of hospital corridors. Flashes of the night come to Sam with each and every turn in the winding corridors. Before Sam can get sucked into his own memory, a familiar voice echoes through the halls, sending chills down Sam's spine.

He stands taller, moving faster as the nurse's pace quickens to find the source of the altercation. Sam's face blanches, a fresh wave of dread washing over him. He looks over to Bucky who wears a similar stunned expression. It truly was the night that wouldn't end for either of them.

"This is a hospital," a receptionist insists, standing beside a security guard who looks entirely out of his element as SWORD agents rummage through the receptionist's desk. "You can't just-"

"Would you like to be charged with obstruction of justice tonight?" the familiar voice threatens.

The receptionist doesn't shrink under the intense scrutiny nor the SWORD agents tearing up her desk for information, "This is an intensive care unit. You cannot-"

"Sam..." Bucky warns the moment that he sees the source of the familiar voice.

"We've got the room number, General," a SWORD agent announces.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sam hisses under his breath, biting back the string of curses that bubble from his mouth.

"How much trouble do you think I'd get in for killing him?" Bucky questions, his tone so clear and sharp that Sam can't be sure Bucky isn't actively planning a murder in his head.

"A lot," Sam easily replies.

Bucky's eyes flicker between the three corridors that all lead into this main room. All perfect for an escape if he did end up killing General Ross tonight. "It'd be worth it."

"Yes, it would," Sam blankly mutters, staring at the man that sent your life spiraling all those years ago. General Ross. In the flesh. Standing before the receptionist's desk, with SWORD agents flanking his sides. Sam briskly strides over, wedging himself in between General Ross and the corridor to your room, "General Ross, something tells me you're not here to drop off flowers."

General Ross deeply inhales, his face as stoic and unimpressed as ever, "Step aside, Wilson."

"Do you wanna do this here?" Sam wonders, gesturing to the room filled with nurses, receptionists, and dozens of other civilians walking through the recovery wing. "Awful lot of witnesses for SWORD to take care of."

"We are well within our jurisdiction."

"Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division," Sam states, tilting his head slightly. "Last I checked, she wasn't a sentient weapon, General."

The General quirks a challenging eyebrow. "Check again."

"You wanna say that again?" Bucky sharply threatens, taking a long step forward, stepping right in the General's face.

"You know the rules, Wilson," Ross states, ignoring Bucky all together. "Your flagrant violation of them only proves what I knew six months ago, the Asset is a danger to herself and to the general public. We'll be taking over from here."

"She has a name," Bucky seethes, Sam's extended arm the only thing holding him back from lunging at General Ross. There's an anger that simmers beneath his skin. You weren't even awake, not even conscious yet, and you were once again fighting for your life without even knowing it. He remembers that night in Latvia. The night he stitched you up. You begged him - no doctors, no hospitals. You were right. You were so entirely right. Not even at your most vulnerable, in your least threatening state, would they ever let you have peace. Even on the brink of death, they didn't care. They would do what it took.

General Ross' eyes flicker between Sam and Bucky, "I warned you both that this would happen. She can't help herself, can she?"

"She just saved New York and stopped the Flag Smashers," Bucky speaks firmly, his voice harsh and unwavering. "Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"I'd watch your mouth, Sergeant." General Ross' eyes snap over to Bucky, "You're lucky I'm not throwing you both in cuffs too."

"For what?" Sam demands.

"Aiding and abetting."

"We aren't fugitives," Sam counters.

"Karli Morgenthau certainly is," General Ross shoots back.

"I don't know where Karli Morgenthau is."

General Ross scoffs in disbelief, "You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth," Sam emphasizes. He throws his hands up in frustration, "Do you honestly think I would help Karli Morgenthau in any way, shape, or form after almost killing her? Do you think I want anything to do with her or any of the Flag Smashers?"

"The rest are dead, Wilson," General Ross states, dropping the bombshell like he's telling them that the sky is blue.

Sam inhales in shock, "What?"

"The Flag Smashers. Every enhanced individual - except the Asset and Karli Morgenthau."

Sam's spine stiffens, standing up taller as the weight of the revelation settles over him. Yes, they were misguided, but they were people. People that you believed could be more than what they were told they were. "How?"

"En route to the Raft," the General answers. "A detonator controlled from a remote location."

"And let me guess, you can't find the remote location?" Bucky guesses, quirking a knowing eyebrow at the General, his arms still crossed across his chest.

General Ross looks to Sam with an imploring look, the sharpness in his tone drops, "Can you really keep her safe? Both of them safe?"

Sam's eyes flicker up, rage lighting up his entire expression, "You want to talk about safety when they died in your custody?"

"Where is she, Sam? Before you get the both of them killed," General Ross sharply orders. "You can't keep them safe. You can't keep her safe."

"You don't know anything," Sam remarks, emphasizing each and every syllable. "About any of us."

"If you could, if you could truly protect her, she wouldn't be lying there half dead."

Sam sucks in a breath like he's been punched in the gut. The words hit him hard. It's only Bucky's rooted stance that keeps them from steamrolling over the two of them.

"Excuse me? If I may-" an unfamiliar voice interrupts, both Sam and Bucky too enthralled in their argument with General Ross to have noticed the man insert himself in their heated discussion.

"Hold on," Sam curtly interrupts, cutting the man in the red tinted glasses off. Neither Sam nor Bucky spare a second glance to the man in the suit and tie, holding a briefcase tight in his hand. "Let's not pretend that you're suddenly concerned about the health and well being of anyone other than yourself, General. You want control. You want power."

"I want order," General Ross retorts. "Something you and The Asset have no interest in keeping. Tell me where Morgenthau is. Now."

"General Ross, is it?" the unknown man pivots, turning to face General Ross. "I think my client has made it abundantly clear that he's unaware of Karli Morgenthau's whereabouts. Perhaps sending your henchman to actually search for her would be a more fruitful use of your time."

"Your client?" Sam repeats, his head snapping over to look at the lawyer.

"Client?" General Ross guffaws, his eyes snap back over to Sam, glaring at him, "A lawyer, Wilson? Do you think there's a lawyer good enough to get the three of you out of this mess? There's not a lawyer in the world that could get that criminal off the hook after what she did tonight."

"And do you think there's a jury in the world that would convict that hero in there after she single-handedly saved New York? After she stopped the Flag Smashers?" the lawyer counters, pointing in the direction of your room. He turns to Sam with an expectant look, "How many truck fulls of GRC members did my client single-handedly save tonight?"

"3," Sam chokes out, sharing an uneasy look with Bucky.

"3 trucks filled with people whose lives were save by the person you're so desperately trying to imprison. 3 trucks filled with people that I can guarantee are feeling especially gracious right now."

"She broke the law," General Ross fumes, lowering his tone to something more cold and calculating. "She knew that the second she stepped foot back in New York."

"There's not a jury in New York that would convict that woman in there," the lawyer matter of factly remarks. "You have the Accords - and that's all you have, General."

"You think I need a jury?" General Ross questions.

"Careful, General," the lawyer warns, his voice eerily calm and composed. "You're treading some very dangerous waters there."

General Ross takes a singular step toward the lawyer, this time, speaking only to him, "You do not want to make an enemy of me."

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing," the lawyer cooly retorts. "Unless you have a warrant, or my client is actually being charged with something, we're done here, General."

"Is this how you want to play this, Sam?" General Ross asks, turning back to Sam. There's a look in the General's face that tells Sam everything he needs to know, this wasn't going to end without a fight. A fight Sam had fought before and lost. Sam's eyes flicker between Ross and the unknown lawyer, a person whose name he didn't even know. Did he want to put your future into the hands of a stranger? Was General Ross right, was there even a person on this earth that could change your story's ending? What other choice did Sam have? To give up on your life without so much as a fight? Seeing the conflict warring in Sam's eyes, General Ross seizes the opportunity to tip the scale in his favor, to pour another helping of salt on Sam's fresh wounds, "I can guarantee you won't like the outcome, Wilson. You haven't in the past."

In that moment, Sam decides. You hadn't let him down. Not once. Not even when you were off fighting your own internal battles. You've always had his back. Now, it's his turn to do the same. He decides to bet on you one more time, "Have a good night, General."

A look of burning rage flashes across General Ross' face before it steels into something much more sinister. His shoulders roll back. He stands tall, looming over the three men.

And with one final verbal jab, General Ross turns on his heels, and leaves them in the wake of a first battle won, but a war just beginning, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"What just happened?" Sam exhales with a long breath.

"The court of public opinion," the lawyer cryptically responds. He turns toward Sam and Bucky, "It wouldn't be a good look to arrest someone who was critically injured while saving the city, but this won't end here. We won the battle, but the war isn't going to be as easy. General Ross is tenacious, I'll give him that. He knows what he wants and he's not going to stop until he's got his prized possession back under his thumb. You're going to need a really good lawyer."

"Well, um, not to ruin this whole moment, but who the hell are you?"

"A really good lawyer." The lawyer extends a hand out to Sam, then to Bucky, "My name is Matt, Matt Murdock, a friend thought you might need some help."

Sam quirks an eyebrow, his mouth twisting with unease, "A friend?"

"A friend," Matt repeats, his way of politely telling them that he wasn't going to divulge anything about the mysterious mutual friend that sent him.

Sam turns back to his seat, plopping down onto the hard plastic as he tenderly rubs his temples, "I just want this night to be over."

"And it will be soon," Matt promises, folding up his white mobility cane and taking the seat beside Sam. He speaks softly, but with a firmness that tells Sam how dire the situation is. "But this is only going to get worse. It's going to get ugly before it gets any better."

"I don't think it can get any worse," Sam remarks.

"It can," Matt retorts. "General Ross isn't going to go search for Karli, that's not his concern right now. Right now, he's going to use the chaos of tonight to figure out how to win. I wouldn't underestimate how far he'll take this. He's a force to be reckoned with, but so are you."

"We've fought this fight before. We lost the last time."

"You didn't have me last time."

Sam turns to face Matt, "Do you really think you can win?"

"Yes, I do," Matt insists. "At some point, General Ross lost control of the most powerful tool at his disposal. There's no regaining that control - not after tonight."

"What do you mean?" Bucky wonders, still not quite trusting the man seated before him.

"Your friend made quite the splash tonight," Matt explains. "There's videos circulating everywhere. She's the hero the city was waiting for."

"No, she's not," Sam immediately denies.

"Mr. Wilson-"

"Sam," Sam corrects.

"Sam-"

"She's not the hero the city was waiting for," Sam forcefully continues. He didn't expect Matt Murdock to understand why his offense to the statement. You weren't the hero. You spent years being the hero and he wasn't about to sign you up for yet another fight. Not this time. "She's a person. A person that is tired of fighting. She's tired. We almost lost her tonight. I'm not signing her up for another fight."

"I can understand that - so ask her."

Sam falters at Matt's suggestion. He was the first person, aside from Sam and Bucky, in a very, very long time to suggest that you should get to choose what should become of your life. "You - you want me to ask her?"

"It is her life, after all. If she says yes, I'll do everything I can help you win."

"And if she says no?"

"Then I'll do everything in my power to make sure she gets off Ross' radar."

And perhaps, Karli was right about him. Perhaps Sam was an optimistic fool. But those words tell Sam everything that he needs to know. He knows that he can trust Matt Murdock with his life. He can trust him with you. "Okay."

"So why don't we start at the beginning? From the moment General Ross lost control."

Sam sighs, rewinding back to the moment that General Ross lost you for good. The airport. It wasn't the first time you'd stepped out of line, but it was the first time you'd ever gone against direct orders. It was the first time you'd ever told him no. The ripples of that day were still felt to this very day. "It'll always come back to that day at the airport, won't it?"

"The airport?" Matt asks.

"It's a long story," Sam answers, but before he delves back into your long history, he turns to Bucky who'd stood before them staring at your door with anxiety and longing practically rolling off of him with a soft smile, "Hey, Bucky? Why don't you go in? One of us should be there when she wakes up."

Bucky nods, giving Sam a slight smile of gratitude, "Thanks."

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