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venusbyline · 18 days ago

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Sickly ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 14, oct.

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader

— type: smut, angst, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: thigh riding

— summary: Motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

— word count: 3.1k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 14th day, female!reader, Cregan Stark's twin sister!reader, Rhaenyra!mother-in-law, Jacaerys Velaryon's wife!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, thigh riding, nipple licking, lactation kink, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, crying, disturbing themes, mommy kink, death themes, grief/mourning, mother-son relationship, mother-daughter relationship, praise kink, oral (female receiving) mentioned, vaginal sex mentioned, creampie mentioned, Jacaerys Velaryon's daughter mentioned, labor mentioned, motherhood themes, nightmares, age gap (older woman/younger woman), sexism, implied Targcest (mother/son) BUT NO REALLY, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, implied Rhaenyra Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon BUT NO REALLY, mild dark, Joffrey Velaryon lives, canon divergence (the Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads

— crossposting: AO3

Rhaenyra Targaryen had crossed a very dangerous line.

She knew better than anyone that in her mind, there was a fine line between acting recklessly or acting so promiscuously. From a young age, Rhaenyra let herself be carried away by the thoughts that arose in her brain — or by the lust that wet the middle of her legs.

She was never the best example of chastity. The furtive glances at Alicent Hightower when they were still best friends, the tameless desire for her uncle Daemon since she was a teenager, the loss of her virginity with Ser Criston Cole, the secret affair with Ser Harwin Strong, the kisses exchanged with Mysaria. And now... the unforgivable thoughts and actions with her daughter-in-law.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. It was sickly. Disgusting. She was mourning Jacaerys. You were in mourning. A mother losing her firstborn son and a girl losing her husband and the father of her newborn baby. Two women suffering for different reasons.

Rhaenyra mourned Jacaerys' death, the panic she felt during his birth still fresh in her mind. She was so afraid of dying the same way as her mother Aemma that she did not even allow any man to enter during the labor. She did not want any man around. No presence of Laenor Velaryon, her husband, or Ser Harwin Strong, her lover and biological father of the baby she was carrying. Not even Viserys, her own father, should enter and give his opinion there.

Rhaenyra remembered everything perfectly. When Harwin fucked her and she discovered she was pregnant almost thirty days later, when Harwin was surprised and at the same time worried about the idea of being a father in secret, when Laenor was happy with the news, when Viserys celebrated that he would have a grandchild — believing the baby was the result of Rhaenyra's marriage to her husband.

Rhaenyra remembered the nausea, the tiredness, the strange feeling of her belly growing to adapt to the baby that was developing inside her. Sometimes she wished she had drunk the Moon Tea to avoid it, and other times she was happy at the thought of giving birth to a beautiful little girl. The princess was sure she was carrying a daughter. Just as she wished Aemma had given her little sisters.

The pain during childbirth and the fear of dying made her wish that if anyone in that body had to die, it would be the unborn baby, not her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was still so young and had a long life ahead of her. If the baby died, she could try to have another in the future. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she should never have children, especially when they were outside of marriage. Either way, Rhaenyra was aware that if she had to prioritize her own life or the life of her child, she would not think twice about saving herself. She would not make the same mistake her father made with her mother.

It was a surprise when the baby was finally born. A boy. She had longed for a daughter throughout her entire pregnancy, trying to hold on to the possibility that having a daughter would be like being able to follow her mother's footsteps, but without that tragic ending.

Her mild disgust at the midwives' enthusiasm that she had a healthy boy soon changed to panic when she noticed the small thinning strands in the baby's hair. Even though he was so tiny in her arms, she could clearly see that he would have dark hair like his biological father, the Targaryen blood not being so strong anymore.

But now, so many years after that desperate night, Rhaenyra cursed herself for three reasons: for having cared so much about Jacaerys' damned hair color, for having despised him for a few days until she got used to the new routine of being a boy's mother and not a girl's mother, and especially because she said at that time that she would not save Jacaerys during labor.

She would do anything to go back in time and never have thought about that. Now, Rhaenyra would do anything to die in every cruel and painful way possible if it was enough to bring her firstborn back.

Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had built a mother-son relationship over the years. It was not automatic like it was with Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon III and Viserys II. It was not even like the few seconds with her Visenya. She did not love Jacaerys immediately like she did her other children. She did not long for his life. She was a mother for the first time and each particularity of her connection with Jacaerys was created little by little. She learned to love him and she learned to protect him.

Rhaenyra learned almost everything about being a mother. But she never thought she would need to learn to live without her first son.

As for you, there was a painful feeling also rooted in your chest. It was not the same as what the queen felt, it bordered more on concern than guilt. You had nothing to blame yourself for.

When your twin brother, Cregan Stark, used you as a bargaining chip to ensure Rhaenyra's steadfast loyalty to the Northmen, you were not even surprised. That is what you and all the noble ladies were made for. Always used to bargain alliances and produce heirs.

Like brood mares, no woman had the right to say no.

Cregan was a good brother, despite everything. At least he had kept you in Winterfell until a truly necessary and promising betrothal came. Jacaerys Velaryon, the heir to the Iron Throne if Rhaenyra won the Dance of Dragons, would have you as his wife, and in exchange for that, the Blacks would protect the North and provide more resources for the harsh winter. It was a fair exchange and it would ensure that they would not simply ignore the treaty at any time. Lord Stark was a man of his word and demanded the same from Jacaerys' family.

You understood his reasons. It was better to marry someone kind and caring than an old and rude random lord who saw you as just a fertile young woman to produce heirs.

It did not take long for you to love Jacaerys. He was so handsome and affectionate trying to make you feel comfortable in Dragonstone, that you even kissed him a few days before the wedding ceremony, and you were not at all afraid of the consummation of the marriage. It was incredible. Especially when you noticed how shocked Jace was when you closed your legs around his hips, pushing his cock even deeper, allowing him to spill his seed inside your cunt. He did not want you to feel used just to procreate, he did not want it to be a sacrifice.

Jace did not plan on having heirs anytime soon. He wanted you to fuck with him because you liked it, because he gave you pleasure. But never out of duty.

And you enjoyed every second. You never had to fear what would happen to you if his seed did not take fast. Just as you never had to fear how he would react if you gave birth to a girl and not a man heir. Sometimes you even thought he longed more for a daughter. After all, he had lived with brothers his entire life and had never even met his little sister Visenya, who was stillborn. If the baby was a girl, he would name it after his sister. If it were a boy, he would name him after his younger brother Lucerys.

You never had to fear many things when you were married to Jace. However, you always feared for his safety. And, Gods... You were right to do that.

Now, even after Queen Rhaenyra's victory, you feared what would happen to you and your newborn daughter. You were afraid that the Blacks would break the treaty since you were just a widow of a dead heir. You feared what would happen to your people if Rhaenyra went back on her word. You feared what would happen to your daughter Visenya now that her father was dead. Rhaenyra would reign for many years to come, but what would happen to her granddaughter? You were not someone who was greedy, but you did not know if Rhaenyra would name Joffrey as the next heir to the Iron Throne, or if she would let Visenya reign in the future.

If your daughter's succession to the Throne was not considered, you feared that she would hate you or her father's family. If she were named as the legitimate heir, precisely because she was the eldest granddaughter and the result of the marriage of Rhaenyra's murdered firstborn, you feared that Joffrey would hate Visenya and you, as well as his own mother. You feared yet another war between family members. Another Kinslayer, just like Aemond Targaryen.

You feared what Jacaerys' absence would do to your and Visenya's lives in the not-so-distant future.

You and Rhaenyra felt different emotions about Jace's death, but both of you loved him and cried every night missing him.

It was not a surprise when Rhaenyra began to comfort you through your routine nightmares, all that involving the death of your dead husband. Rhaenyra also had nightmares every day. Always about her family's deaths.

She had regained what was rightfully hers, but at what cost?

It was not a surprise to her when you started hugging her while you had crying spells after dreams. It was not a surprise to you when she let you cry on her shoulder. It was not a surprise to her when you begged her to think about your daughter Visenya's future. It was not a surprise to you when she asked for forgiveness for not being enough to protect Jacaerys.

None of this was surprising or unexpected. Not even when the nighttime cuddles intensified. When caressing your hair and hugs were no longer enough. When Rhaenyra began pressing you against her full heavy breasts as you cried. When you started to put your hands under the nightgown Rhaenyra wore and caressed her soft skin.

It was wrong. Very wrong. It was sickly. It was disgusting and repulsive. It was too cruel to the memory of Jacaerys. How would the boy feel if he knew his mother was fucking his own wife?

Neither of you had any way of knowing the answer. Jacaerys was dead, after all. He never returned from the Battle of the Gullet. He and Vermax had been hooked like fishes and engulfed by the waves of the sea — Always wanting so much to have pure blood, to be legitimate... To end up just being a Velaryon rotting inside the ocean. It was ironic and you could not tell if it honored him as a Velaryon or just proved that the Strong blood running through his veins had cursed him, the last moments of his life in the middle of the place where a true Velaryon would belong, but never a bastard.

Rhaenyra hated herself for wanting you. You hated yourself for wanting her. Jacaerys would hate the two of you for this. And yet, both of you could not deal with the grief any other way. You needed each other.

You loved Jacaerys. You loved your late mother, Gilliane Glover, who died so soon after you and Cregan were born. You did not have time to live with her, just as Rhaenyra did not have time to live with her stillborn daughter.

You had lost your husband. Rhaenyra had lost her son. You needed a mother. Rhaenyra needed a daughter.

It was disgusting, very wrong. It was sickly. And you could not stop. You did not want to stop. It was the only way to deal with Jacaerys's grief and keep the boy's memory alive in your minds.

"How was the nightmare tonight?" Rhaenyra asked softly as you sat on her lap, your teary eyes closing. You let her wrap her arm around your waist, your hips bigger after you gave birth to your daughter Visenya.

"About the sea. About pain. About blood... About him." Your voice came out trembling and muffled, your face buried between her breasts, so full and heavy that you could barely breathe, even if you did not make the slightest effort to move away. You wished she still had milk to breastfeed you like your mother had done. She wished she still had milk so she could breastfeed you like she had done with Jacaerys. Like she should have done with her Visenya, if the little baby had not been born dead.

The content of the nightmares that tormented your mind was nothing new. They were always about death, just like Rhaenyra's. And she always wanted to know yours. She always wanted you to tell her what you had dreamed of. But she never shared her own nightmares. And everything was fine. You did not really want to suffer over Rhaenyra's thoughts either. Were you too selfish for not wanting that? Perhaps. And perhaps she was too masochistic, always wanting you to explain every detail that haunted you in the early hours of the morning and disturbed your sleep.

You did not mind telling her. It felt good to share all of this with someone who understood. It was good to seek comfort from a mother.

Rhaenyra moaned when she felt your tongue circle her pink nipple, your teary eyes made you look like a child being soothed by a mother's breast.

She stroked your hair, thanking the Gods that you did not have silver or blonde hair. Thanking the Gods that Alicent did not let her marry Jacaerys to Helaena Targaryen. Thanking the Gods for allowing Jacaerys to annul his betrothal to Baela Velaryon when Lord Cregan Stark demanded that his army's loyalty would only be agreed upon if the prince married his twin sister.

She could never seek that comfort from Helaena. Her sister had always been too pure for her own good. And Helaena was too much like Rhaenyra herself. She could not picture Jacaerys in Helaena's place because of her hair.

Just as she could not seek comfort from Baela. Her stepdaughter had Laena's appearance and the rebellious and tameless personality of her ex-husband Daemon.

Joffrey had the same dark hair as his older brother, but you... You were everything she needed. You had dark hair like Jacaerys and you were a girl like her stillborn daughter. You were everything she wanted currently. A daughter. But also a concubine.

"It feels good?" Rhaenyra questioned when her hands went down to your nipples, sensitive from your lack of breastfeeding. You did not breastfeed Visenya often, preferring that she be fed by a wet nurse. Looking at her reminded you of Jacaerys and that made the moment difficult. Your milk would dry up quickly if you continued looking for Rhaenyra and leaving your daughter aside. You knew you needed to act like a mother, however, you liked to enjoy your time like Rhaenyra's daugther and affair.

You did not judge Rhaenyra for imagining her son licking her breasts when you did that. You knew she had never seen him in a sexual way. It was an innocent nostalgia, even if you were also pressing her other breast while memories of Jacaerys filled her mind. She wanted her eldest son back. You wanted your husband back. She wanted to feel you the same way her son felt you. And you wanted to feel every inch of the woman who gave birth to the man you loved.

You nibbled on her nipple after gasping as Rhaenyra she placed a hand on your mound, squeezing it rough enough to make your breast milk start to flow out. "Good girl..." She growled softly, admiring your embarrassed smile.

Rhaenyra ran her fingers through the milk before bringing it down between your legs, rubbing the liquid into your already wet folds. "N-Nyra..."

"Mother." The Queen corrected while you squirmed under her touch. Your milk was supposed to be to feed Visenya. And here you were, letting your mother-in-law rub it on your clit. It was so disgusting and depraved. Motherhood was a sick thing.

"M-Mother..." You whimpered the way Rhaenyra suggested, even though the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. Was this how she felt whenever she was eating you out? Did she pictured her son cumming inside your cunt so many times at the beginning of the marriage, filling you with his seed until it flowed, the same way his biological father had done to her in secret? Was this how Rhaenyra felt whenever you rubbed your face between her large breasts? Did she remember how difficult it was to get used to breastfeeding her firstborn? Was this how she felt now with her hand wet with your milk? Why did not she hate you, already knowing you would rather her do that than force you to breastfeed your daughter Visenya, while she did not even have the chance to feed her Visenya?

You wanted to know if she also felt disgusted by it all. You wanted to know if motherhood was really that sick for her too.

You wanted to know a lot of things, and you chose not to ask any of them. Ignorance was bliss. The answers were on both of your faces. The way she moaned as you pushed your fingers hard into her cunt, fucking the tight walls that had once dilated so baby Jacaerys could come into the world. The way your breast milk that was supposed to feed Jacaerys' little daughter had a different use now, soaking your own cunt as you took advantage of the additional liquid to ride harder against Rhaenyra's thick thigh.

You both felt sick and dirty, mentally begging for Jacaerys' forgiveness as you came, moaning each other's name. Your fingers were still inside her and your sensitive and sore clit was still pressed against her soft white skin, your cum and milk running down her thigh, while Rhaenyra kept your face against her chest.

"Thank you, Mother, thank you..." You sobbed, making no move to get off of her or release her walls. You wanted to prolong the feeling of self-loathing, enjoying the overstimulation of having your bud pulsing along with the continuous tremors of your body, just as Rhaenyra was enjoying feeling your trembling hand inside her, the four motionless fingers spreading her cunt like if you were preparing her for labor. Jace's birth or yours, you could not say. Both, perhaps.

"I love you, my dear daughter. My new daughter." Rhaenyra kissed the top of your head, caressing your dark hair. It was true. You were everything that kept Jace's memory alive in her mind. She loved her firstborn and she loved you in a sick way. After all, motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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seokari · 8 months ago

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Thinking about..

Bf! Megumi ( sfw )

Note^^: Im not really used to writing in english, it's not my first language so if I have spelling mistakes or something like that you are pretty much welcome to communicate it to me <3

Tw: None, just fluff ^^

Sfw

Bf!Megumi who needs to always have a hand on you, nothing really noticiable, just holding your hand or your waist. He is extra shy about it, when you bought it to the convo he was denying it.

Bf!Megumi who doesn't really do pda (except for the hand/waist holding), but when he is jealous he is extra clingy, standing behind you, hands on your sides, rubbing and hugging, head buried in the crook of your neck, quick pecks on your cheeks, lips and neck (All of this while looking at the other guy dead in the eye)

His friends tease him a lot because of this

Bf!Megumi who denies buying you something, but ends up buying it without you insisting with Satoru's card. He acts like he is annoyed when you are thanking him, kissing his face and smiling, but he actually loves seing his baby happy.

Bf!Megumi who denies being cuddly, a total lie, when you two sleep on the same bed, he tells you to get on your side, when he thinks you are finally asleep, he starts spooning you, obviously you have noticed, you arent dumb.

Bf!Megumi who is constantly embarassed by Dad!Satoru, (yk he raised gumi so yeah). Satoru starts telling you things about Gumi's childhood and teenager times (not so long ago).

Actually it's pretty cute, because Gumi is all red and flustered every time this happens, covering his face and murmuring something that sound like a casting spell on Satoru's mouth

Nosy!Satoru who happens to be near the place of your dates every single time, but he says its just something that happens "casually". (He's lying, he just likes seing the grumpy black haired boy being loved by someone other than him)

Bf!Megumi who gave you a promise ring and tried to act nonchalant bus was extremely nervous, face and ears red, sweaty hands and that shy look on his face.

"Dont overreact, it's just a gift" he said looking other way, late, your hand are on his neck and you lips all over his face.

"What do you mean? I never do that, its sad that my future husband thinks of me that way"

Pd: I got lazy to write more haha, hope you enjoy! <3

Unedited

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #gojo satoru

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inklore · 4 months ago

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if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard

runaway

repercussions

sledgehammer

stargazing

symmetry

deathless

honey

retrograde

stitches

gravity

helpline

hollow

suffer

pushing

warrant

want

wonder

emotions

nonchalant

lavender

daydream

nosebleed

jigsaw

static

float

limbs

hologram

careless

lush

rotting

phonograph

hypnotic

splinters

magnetic

wasted

lithium

dealer

she

candles

sabotage

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

misery

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet

cherry bullet

midnight guest

cherry wish

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions

atlas hands

broken crown

crystallized words

filthy pride

fresh eyes

heavy feet

hungry ghosts

imaginary paintings

neon jungle

perfect storm

slow hands

stop signs

sad farewells

untranslated stars

after hours

bad liar

bonfire heart

bruised lips

cherry bomb

damaged goods

dead end

fire away

gunpowder hourglass

lonely together

lost language

old moons

one dance

paper knees

sleepy eyes

stolen dance

vice city

artificial heart

cry baby

daylight fading

dream awake

empty bottle

exit wounds

ghost orchards

moving stones

paper walls

oceans away

playing fiction

something wild

wild thoughts

everybody’s fool

eyes closed

storms incarnate

writing tragedies

stereo driver

soul searching

party’s over

backseat driving

fearful heart

backwards directions

nosebleed seats

high hopes

lovers rock

wet dream

selfish soul

washed away

rose rogue

midnight sun

teenage fantasy

wandering romance

sure thing

wildest dreams

rock candy

losing momentum

ruin you

heart holiday

sink her

cut splinters

hot mess

frozen devotion

little star

blind faith

favorite crime

romantic homicide

those eyes

play pretend

plot line

pretty poison

intimidate you

pretty face

strawberry kisses

lovers rock

worlds apart

desperate/separate ways

those eyes

the blonde

loving machine

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed

bleed for love

between the bars

can’t be still

cold morning mist

in cold blood

matter of time

piece by piece

ship to wreck

taut with love

waste a moment

can’t see straight

down and out

in a blackout

just like fire

notes on tenderness

across the room

fire with fire

going half-mad

loving to ruins

rust to gold

send my love

talking in code

cradling a dream

cut to black

dear to me

run me dry

dancing with demons

kiss and tell

if you care

the cry out

steal this night

just for now

heart on fire

hold my head

nobody but you

simple and plain

a familiar sound

fool for you

drown your memory

falling into you

just like heaven

warm like beaches

love that stings

rotting in places

moves on you

save your tears

a single tear

light my cigarette

long nights, daydreams

boys like you

love me forever

hands on me

like a phonograph

taking over me

dug so deep

touch the ground

heart shaped box

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine

love me wrong

kiss or kill

exes and why’s

love is easy

stupid in love

easy to love

lost with you

glimpse of us

keep you safe

death with dignity

just like heaven

heart of glass

baby i’m yours

pull my strings

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do

on a war path

blood on the surface

corner of the sky

do the divine love

drinking the corinthian sun

everything is laced in (add word)

lost in the moment

in the nick of time

mouth like a pomegranate

the bones you’re made of

when the mania speaks

all desire & no thought

blue in the face

collapsing and relapsing

middle of the night

sail to the sun

lay down your arms

falling into the sky

take me where your heart is

she’s like the bad weather

kill for your love

the cigarette and the smoker

the match and the fuse

saint, i’m a sinner

when the sky comes falling

pretty little hand in mine

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset

tangled up with you all night

paper airplanes flying

maybe i’m a fool

tastes like rock candy

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die

fate is losing its patience

at least we feel alive

death for your secrets

someone’s gonna ruin you

dancing in a crowded room

smell you on my clothes

always taste like you

leave me wanting more

hunger for (insert here)

swim before you drown

put your hands on me

drink my (these) tears and cry

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you

so high we never stood a chance

i’d break down anytime for you

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette

lips on my cold neck

talking in my sleep

make me feel like someone else

locked inside your heart

hooked on her flesh

it’s bloody and raw

the angel of small death

just a couple sinners

smiles cover your heart

charmer and the snake

stuck on your thumb

if i killed someone for you

dancing with your ghost

i miss you, i’m sorry

woman of the hour

shut up and look pretty

queen of the night

devil in a dress

the thought of you

to be your lover

falling over you

just like a movie

love on the line

#also no one has to give me credit like pls steal these and use them lol #fic titles #fic help #fic resources #story help #fic reference #tips and tricks #story titles #titles #if there’s double words or titles on here ignore that i’m too lazy to read through everything lol

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a-tiny-sloth · 11 months ago

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you can't tell me you never get emotional about blue sargent. blue sargent, who's 16 and has no friends outside her family home, who tries to keep herself out of trouble and be sensible but can't, who dreams of a future she cannot reach, who can't have a normal and fun experience with teenage love, whom fate has firm in its hand and who still tries to escape it, who kisses a dead boy because she can't kiss anyone else, who loses her aunt and almost loses her mom. who just wants to be allowed to want a little

#like talk about a tragic character!#idk feel like this could be worded better but!! you get what i mean!!#blue sargent #trc #the raven cycle #noah's stuff

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2knightt · 11 months ago

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「 you are—unforgettable.」

IN WHICH—you’re them and they’re you!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ people in this fic refer to two-bit as ‘keith.’ who cuz who the FUCK says ‘he got his two-bits in🤓’ NOBODY! but in the descriptive parts he will be two-bit. ALSO IF U DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING LOOK IN THE TAGS!

Ponyboy Curtis ;

his class was gonna watch this movie before reading a book. ‘the outsiders,’ or somethin’.

it was made in the ‘80’s—he didn’t want to even watch it. watching movies in class was the worst!

ponyboy sat at his desk, head in his arms. he heard the music and looked up, chin resting on his arms.

when ponyboy seen you writing down and narrating, he could’ve sworn he died and came back to life. LIKE WHEN HE HEARD YOUR VOICEEE HE GOT A LITTLE BLUSH ON HIS CHEEKS.

his friends beside him noticed, snickering to themselves. they shoved him, asking if that was his future partner. he just pushed them off, quietly telling them to fuck off.

when ponyboy seen you covered in the soot??? phew—he questioned his morals, man. and THEN HE SEEN YOU BEAT UP?? he was getting FED.

ponyboy came out of that school a new man.

his ears were hot, his cheeks were red, and he was already looking up edits of you. ponyboy shoved those almost broken wired apple headphones in his ears and tuned everyone out.

when he got home he ignored any questions darry and soda threw at him and immediately went to his room. ponyboy quietly closed the door before hopping into bed, pulling out his phone, and going on tiktok.

spent like a solid 30 minutes tweaking over edits of you. like full on screaming into his pillow—i’m so serious.

“darry, what the hell is that noise?”

“i dunn—ponyboy?”

“AHHH!!”

when he found out that, outside of the outsiders, you’re decades older than him he was SO HEARTBROKEN.

the gang seen him looking at photos of you and immediately started teasing him. he absolutely tried to back himself up with stutters.

“they’re how much years older than you, bro?”

“NONO HEAR ME OUT, PLEASE! KEITH, BRO, PLEASE.”

reads fanfic. look at me in the eyes and try to tell me that ponyboy motherfucking curtis doesn’t read fanfiction.

you can’t.

like bro he’s so desperate for more content of you to the point where he writes the fics he yearns for—got pretty popular to.

“why the fuck is your phone blowing up?”

“PLEASE don’t ask me any questions about it.”

he’s a freak. he knows everything about you. ponyboy’s even began to watch your interview’s about the movie. and your other movies.

literally a teenage girl.

“THEY’RE SO FINE THOUGH, PLEASE!”

“nuh-uh.”

“FUCK YOU MEAN ‘NUH-UH’?”

Johnny Cade ;

seen you when he was watching random movies at the curtis house. at first he was like, ‘wait!! they’re so me coded😛.’ it never occurred to him that you could be so cute.

he seen you crying and something in him like actually snapped.

“wait….am i getting a crush? they’re kinda…”

when he seen the equivalent of ponyboy in this universe snuggled up to you in the church he was soooo jealous.

yk that one audio where it’s like, “how long is he gon’ be talking to my WIFE.” that’s literally johnny cade when he seen that person kiss the top of your head.

“what the fuck?”

“…what do you mean?”

“nothin’. it’s just kinda bullshit that they swoop in and steal my chance😒.”

“you never had one.”

“okay, pal😐.”

heart broke when he seen you in the hospital bed btw. like was full on gripping onto a pillow with tears in his eyes.

johnny was in such denial when he seen you die😭. ‘bro, no. they literally aren’t dead.’/‘guys!! it’s just a prank!!’

when he got to the scene he was in SHAMBLES. HE WAS INCONSOLABLE. ripping his hair out, screaming, crying, allat.

“stay gold…”

“NOOOOOOO-“

was so pissed when you didn’t come back. was even more pissed when your letter was read out loud.

“HOW COULD THEY KILL THEM OFF?? THEY DIDN’T DESERVE IT!”

“johnny, it’s a movie.”

“this is so unfair. i hate movies.”

gets nervous looking at photos of you. like to the point where he tries to look up your name on pinterest before bailing mid sentence and giggling. like full on throwing his phone across the room, kicking his feet.

will talk for hours about you. thinks your the coolest character ever!! defends you like his life depends on it.

“they killed someone?”

“so?? you’re acting like you wouldn’t do it to🤣🤣 fake ahh friend.”

—

“they legit can’t stand up for themselves. you want someone like that to be out walking them streets?”

“oh, god for bid a person has trauma. and YES I DO🗣️. i hope they walk right into my arms, HO.”

all said online btw. he would never ruin his ego by speaking like this. i am a strong believer johnny cade puts up a strong front online.

johnny literally thinks you’re the cutest person he’s ever seen. like his cheeks get so hot when he thinks about you and he gets a silly little smile on his face.

he looks at photos of you and his friends think he has a little girlfriend.

“who you textin’, johnnycakes?”

“nobody-uh!”

“c’mon—we see that smile!”

and it’s literally just you with blood dripping down your face.

Dallas Winston ;

caught a glimpse of you at some girls house he slept at. literally stopped dead in his tracks as he seen you light a cigarette before mumbling, ‘nothin’ legal, man.’

“i-uh, what movie’s this?”

“huh? oh, the outsiders. pretty good movie.”

he thanked her and threw on his jacket before speed walking to bucks place. he had to watch this movie or he’s actually lose it.

imagine buck’s bar is actually a house, kay? dallas sits his pretty little ass on that couch, flips to whatever streaming service, and turns on ‘the outsiders.’

thought it was all boring until he seen you walk into frame—mocking the main character. at that very moment he was all, ‘wait that’s kinda hot.’

seeing you help the two younger ones run away while still acting tough was so attractive to him. dallas felt like he was losing his mind.

seeing you run in after the two into the church kinda made his knees weak.

“BAE NO!”

“what the hell are you screamin’ ‘bout?”

“nothin’, buck…”

he was so scared that you’d die in the fire. (little did old dallas know am i right fellas!!!!) like i swear to god he was so scared you’d end up like the johnny in this universe.

WHEN HE SEEN YOU FIGHTINGGG. he went feral. dallas was like so flustered. he was trying so hard to hide his blush to the ghosts around him with his hair.

his flush was short lived however. seeing you cry and then literally point a gun at a cashier was lowkey whiplash for him.

“what the fuck is happening?”

dallas figured out what was gonna happen early on and started kinda tearing up. like one tear formed in his eye before he blinked it away. but he was still devastated.

WHEN DALLY HEARD SOMEONE SCREAM “they’re just a kid!” he lost it. like actually. he went limp on the couch and spaced out. like damn…his fiancé, who doesn’t know they’re his fiancé yet, really WAS just a kid.

nobody knows he likes the outsiders OR that he has a crush on you. and they CAN’T know, it’s way too embarrassing. like actually.

when he’s with the gang and he’s just casually scrolling on tiktok and he sees the tags with your name, he immediately favourites it and scrolls. he saved it for later when he’s alone.

also defends you like there’s no tomorrow.

“they were hitting on someone who had a partner??”

“okay?? fucking live a little jesus.”

—

“THEY’RE A FUCKING CRIMINAL?”

“i’m into it tho lmfao”

swears up and down that if you and him were in a room together—you’d have a crush on him. top tier delusion.

like if he gets drunk with keith, he will rant about it.

“no—hear me out. put me in a room with y/n l/n and i swear to god they’re gonna be madly in love with me.”

“no they won’t, dallas.”

“yuh-huh.”

looks at photos of you and probably has you as his pfp on his spam. includes you in every other photo dump.

Sodapop Curtis ;

seen an edit of you on tiktok and audibly gasped. full on went, “WHO IS THATT😜” went to the tags and just scrolled under it for a good long while.

he seen a angst edit of you and made up his mind that he had to watch the movie.

for the while that you weren’t on screen, he was trying to push through. he really was. but deep down—in his head he was screaming, “BORING! SHOW ME THE PRETTY ONE!!”

when sodapop seen you tending to your younger sibling he could’ve sworn he was on cloud 9.

“my turn when :/.”

WHEN SODA SEEN YOU GET OUT OF THE SHOWERRR😭😭. he lost his BREATH like was full on gripping his imaginary pearls.

had to take a breather to walk around the house before unpausing the movie. had a blush across his cheeks, i can’t even lie.

when he learned that you were described as, “movie star attractive,” all he did was nod. like,

“mhm. i always knew my fiancé was good looking.”

SODA WAS APPALLED WHEN HE FOUND OUT THAT YOUR PARTNER CHEATED ON YOU. like jaw was on the FLOOR.

“I COULD TREAT THEM BETTER🗣️🗣️ THEY KNOW WHERE HOME IS!!”

he is so open about his little crush in you—it’s so cute :(

“steve, look at ‘em.”

“i see them—get your fuckin’ phone outta my face.”

“aren’t they so perfect??🤭🤭”

“i guess.”

“well, BACK OFF. we’re already happily married.”

“in your dreams maybe.”

“oh my god.”

soda has you as his pfp on at least two platforms. his name on one platform is “y/n’s boyfriend (REAL!)”

seeing you run out on your siblings after they grouped you into your argument made him just wanna hug you so bad. like he just wanted to tell you it was all gonna be okay.

has a album in his photos where it’s edits of you and photos. giggles and twirls his hair as he looks at it.

Darry Curtis ;

his parents used to watch the movie all the time and you’ve always just been a life long crush of his.

like when younger darry seen you walk into frame, comforting your kid sibling, something in his head snapped.

suddenly everything was in slow motion, there were hearts everywhere, he had rose coloured glasses on, and for some reason—harps play in the background.

as darry grew up it literally never went away. whenever the outsiders comes on when he’s home he always still goes, “woah.😍😍”

like he thinks you’re so fine.

he doesn’t like watch edits, read fanfic—none of that🗣️. but if he gets asked who is celebrity crush is—your name is coming out of his mouth ASAP.

“so, darry, who’s your celebrity cru-“

“y/n l/n.”

“but they’re a character?”

“Y/N L/N.”

he has like ONE printed out photo of you in his room from years ago. he knows exactly where it is and where to hide it, but he still keeps it.

at least once every two months, when everyone’s asleep and he has no work the next day, he’ll stay up just to watch the movie.

he’ll have a budlight in his hand as he watches you absolutely DEMOLISH at the rumble.

“i always knew they’d win.”

“you’ve watch this movie a thousand times.”

“PONYBOY?!”

the gang eventually found out his little crush on you. only light teasing ‘cause they’re so scared they’ll get that darry smoke if they push him further😭😭.

“oh my god! look, darry! you’re little crush is on screen!”

“steve, i will beat some sense into you if you don’t shut up.”

“…okay, bud.”

—

“when’s the weddin’?”

“after your funeral, keith.”

“wow. hater.”

Steve Randle ;

his dad fell asleep on the couch one night with this old movie playing in the background.

steve was about to turn it off before he caught a glimpse of you offering this half naked person some cake. he was all, ‘WAITTTT🙈🙈!!’

like he seen you in that sleeveless jacket and immediately fell in love. literally was on a mission to figure out who you were.

when he did? all he wanted to do was watch the outsiders. WHEN HE SEEN YOU SCOLDING THE MAIN CHARACTER HE SOO KNEW YOU WERE HIS TYPE

“wish they’d scold me like that…damn…😞✊”

was TWEAKING SOO HARD WHEN HE SEEN YOU ALL BLOODY WITH YOUR HEAD THROWN BACK.

“…you think i look tuff?”

“YES BAE!!!”

making his name on like insta or something, “y/n’s HUSBAND.” he puts emphasis on the husband because he believes that you want him so bad.

like actually. he’s fucking delusional.

“guys…they like cake…and I LIKE CAKE! do you see my vision??”

“no??”

“man, fuck you.”

photo dumps on insta of pictures of you with the caption, “from our honeymoon 😍😍😛😛!” his friends are ripping him apart in comments btw.

WOULD GO FOR WAR FOR YOU.

“they’re actually so gross what.”

“YOU’RE GROSS!🗣️ KEEP THEM OUT OF YOUR MOUTH YOU FOOL!!”

—

“they have 0 depth.”

“0 depth to YOU. to ME they’re the love of my life.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

seen the outsiders when he was drunk. he didn’t remember anything that night but the cute lil’ actor who was laughing after flirting with some rich lookin’ kid.

the only thing he remembers saying that night was,

“damn—when is it MY TURN😩😞”

WENT ON A FUCKING HUNT TO FIND THIS MOVIE ISTG. he was looking up shit that didn’t even matter to the plot—so he got different movies each time.

‘cute actor flirting’

‘cute actor in old ass movie’

‘mickey mouse shirt’

‘when was mickey mouse created’

‘who is walt disney’

he got a little distracted but that’s not the point. two-bit found the movie and cried tears of joy. fell to his knees and all😭.

he immediately turned the outsiders on and waited to see you. HE WAS SOO SAD TO FIND OUT YOU HAD LIKE SUCH LITTLE SCREENTIME.

but he worked with it. he was taking SO MUCH PHOTOS OF HIS TV WHEN YOU WERE ON SCREEN LMFAO. they were all so shaky too😭😭.

doesn’t shut the fuck up about you.

“they want me so bad🤣🤣😂😂.”

“they wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, keith.”

“what if i killed myse-”

—

“they’re so find i won’t ‘em.”

“what the fuck are you saying?”

“what are YOU SAYING? back up.”

saves edits of you. he is ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE OF PERSON TO SAY THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT ABOUT YOU IN THE COMMENTS LMFAOOO

‘they could beat the shit out of me and i thank them :3’

‘WHAT?’

‘omg who said that’

you are his profile picture everywhere. and anywhere.

genuinely believe you’re the love of his life. i swear to god he does. KING OF DELUSION ABOVE ALL ELSE!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit matthews x reader #steve randle x reader #LUV THIS CONCEPT!!!#like you’re the movie character and he’s the real person #like idk you’re the dallas and he’s the real person giggling over u.#feels so good to write like this again!!! teehee!!

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descendantsramblings · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I literally LOVED your morgie fic! I was just wondering if I could maybe request something like the siren scene from sinbad where reader is sailing with hook and his crew and they all become like entranced by the sirens and reader saves the day and at the end hook is like super proud of her? Sorry if that made like no sense😭

Ahh! I won’t lie I’ve never seen Sinbad so I had to go watch the scene but now I’m gonna have to watch the whole movie. I’m taking some creative liberties obviously to avoid making this toooo much like the movie but I literally LOVE the concept of this. Also, I made the reader Harry’s mom in the future, I hope that’s okay but I wanted to make a fic of them reminiscing when Hook sells the Jolly Roger to Uma anyway so I kinda used this as a “two birds one stone” situation. You made perfect sense, Baby, don’t you worry!

Also!! I saw that crowpickingss also got a very similar request and i didn't read his yet because I was scared of accidently getting inspiration from it, just to be clear.

Call of the Sirens

Captain James Hook x Pirate!Reader

Pronouns Used: she/her/hers

Summary: Hook and his wife retell the tale of when she saved a whole pirate crew from the song of sirens.

Warnings: a touch of swearing, the pirate crew is a little sexist to the reader, sirens are their own warning around these parts, death mentions but mainly in passing, concubine mention, pet names but with my writing that's basically a given, underage alcohol mention

Word Count: 2.2K

“I just can’t believe you’re selling the old girl,” she shakes her head as she speaks, looking over the ship she’d loved so much in her youth. The body of mighty oak and rope that held the hand of her wanderlust way of life until it landed her behind the barrier of the Isle, deeming her one of the lost simply by being in the Captain’s crew. (Y/n) loved being a pirate, the salty spray that seemed to constantly coat her skin and hair, the rum and laughter on warm nights, the adrenaline rush when something would begin to go wrong. Everything about being a member of the Jolly Roger’s crew set her heart on fire. Even if it did get her deemed a villain, it gave her more than life outside the barrier ever could.

“Darling, she’s run her course with us,” he sighs, strutting across the deck to lovingly cradle his wife’s face, “Time for her to host a new set of teenager’s wanderlust egos has come so we can grow old together.” She looks over his shoulder as her son and his two best friends inspect the ship, the niece of their old dear friend seeming to glow as she studied the old body of the boat. “I’m surely going to miss this boat, she was too good to us.” He hums, shaking his head as he can’t fight the smile that threatens his features, “She got us into a world of trouble.” The comment leads the teenagers closer to them, Harry leading as he gets closer to his parents. “That’s not fair and you know it,” (Y/n) shakes her head as she raises a finger to tap against his nose, “You got us into all that trouble, not the Jolly Roger.” “If I remember right,” he dips her down, smirking down at the glare of the sun on her face, “You seemed to be the one getting us out of it. A right hero you were, aye?”

Harry cringes as his father leans down to place a teasing kiss on his mother’s lips, letting out a forced gag that anyone who knew the Hooks would know was playful. “Sounds like Mom was the Captain then.” It causes Hook’s head to snap up, glaring daggers at his son. “I’m the captain, I will always be the Captain. Your mother was just the best under pressure.” She laughs, standing back up and walking to her son, brushing off his shoulders and fixing his collar as she speaks, “I wasn’t even first mate, your father would’ve never let me in on the action by choice. But someone had to keep an even mind on the old girl, you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. The two of us would’ve been well past dead before we even turned eighteen.” She shoots a look back at her husband, taking in the adoring look on his face as he watches the two of them, “Especially that one.”

“Had I not been so scared to lose her, she would’ve made a fine first mate,” his hook slinks around her waist, looping into a belt loop as he kisses her cheek. “You threatened it once.” “Aye,” he turns his attention to his son and his friends, truly making a show of the exchange, “I’ve never been so proud of her. Saved me and our whole crew.” Harry nods, looking between them, “So the day that I was born would be second?” Hook waves his good hand, “Third.” It catches him a swat to the chest, leading him to chuckle. “Darling, tell them about the sirens.”

“Sirens? You faced sirens?” Uma stares at the woman as if she’s the coolest thing on the seven seas, wide eyes aglow with excitement, “No one faces sirens and lives to tell the tale.” The woman smiles, shaking her head, “We wouldn’t have, if the siren song worked on women, or dogs.” “Dogs?” Harry looks at her with confusion, “We used to have a dog?” “I used to have a dog, Cocktail. He was the best dog a girl could’ve had, bless him. They took him from me when we got put on the Isle.” The kids watch her intently, each taking a seat on the deck like dominos falling in a line “Well, get on with it Momma.”

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼

Caves were never her thing. Open waters, lagoons, abandoned islands, she’d take anything over sailing through caves. “James,” her voice is soft as she approaches him, hand slipping onto the steering Captain’s shoulder, “You know how I feel about caves.” She hated to sound whiny, weak. She gave the crew enough reason to think she didn’t belong there. Certain members of the crew even spoke to her as if she was nothing more than James’ concubine. But caves had an evil air to them that the girl couldn’t stand. Nothing good ever came from one, and she was positive that one of these days one would crash in on them. The unstable caverns tended to do so to overzealous explorers.

“Yeah, Captain, you know she’s too much of a scaredy cat to go through a cave. She’s gotta whine the whole time, in case it gets her,” Starkey teases, rolling his eyes before turning back to his conversation with Turk. She glares daggers at him; next time Tick tock came by she wouldn’t think twice about tossing his brutish ass overboard. Let the creature have him instead of the captain. “It’s just the fastest route, Darling. We’ll be out of here in no time,” he pays no mind to his crew as he addresses her worries, sending her a cocky grin over his shoulder. She sighs, giving him a nod as she goes back to her previous seat on the deck of the ship, Cocktail resting his head back on her thigh as she did. Her hand finds its way to the top of his head, nails scratching gently against his skin as she tries to think of anything but how uncanny the cave was. With its muggy atmosphere and dark edges. Rigid calcium buildups hanging from the ceiling with sharp rocks jutting out the water. The air around her smelt dank and the dripping of water from the ceiling's build ups coupled with the odd harmony that hung in the air was enough to drive her insane.

The harmony? Since when did caves have their own harmonies? What is that sound?

She gets up to head back over to her lover, Cocktail hot on her heels as she does. “Aye, Captain?” He hums, seemingly not paying attention to her. “Do you hear that? There’s something off about this cave.” She waited for another snarky comment to come from the rest of the crew but nothing does. Carefully, as her hand finds its foundation on James’ shoulder, her eyes scan the deck. Every man on the ship seemed to stare off, a strange haze taking over their faces. Cocktail begins to bark at her side, nose pointed at the edge of the ship in alert. She looks back to James, the same haze over his face, hand losing the grip he had on the steering wheel. Something about this place was entirely wrong; cursed. That’s what it was, there was some sort of black magic that hung in the air around the place. She just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

(Y/n) grabs hold of the steering wheel, holding it steady as she looks around in the water. Faint ripples and flashes of large black and deep violet tails. The melody began to make sense, and she took a moment to wonder how the group had been lucky enough to avoid the creatures until now. Never the wisest in their adventures. Seems it was catching up to them now.

“Captain,” she bumps his hip with hers as she speaks, earning no response from his statuesque form. “James,” her fingers snap in his face, not stirring so much as a blink from the boy. “Mr. Smee?” He’s looking over the edge of the ship, blowing a kiss to one of the creatures in the water. “Starkey? Tusk?” Nothing, they were all entranced. Everything had to fall on her now, the realization of it all making her stomach feel as if it was in her throat. Heart beating so loud that it sounds like cannon fire between her ears as she pushes James off of his post. Lip between her teeth as she catches the wheel again, attempting to pull it steady from the way his body weight had swung it right.

Water splashes over the sides of the deck from where the sirens beckon to her crew, the men heading further to the edge as they do. She was losing them, and Hades as her witness (Y/n) was not ready to lose the crew that she’d learned to see as her own twisted form of a family. She leans down as far as she’ll allow herself to, “Cocktail, baby, you're going to have to help me here.” Her fingers grasp around a rope, tossing it to her beloved pet, “Go 'round the deck.” The mastiff takes off, dashing forward with the rope clenched between his teeth, wrapping the crew up in the harsh lead. It was rough, surely something that would catch her hell later, but it was tight enough to stop them. “Good boy, my god, you’re such a good boy.” She calls, focusing her energy back onto steering the ship. She could see the exit of the dreadful dugout now and if she could just avoid the rock to her left they’d be out free. Sirens hated the daylight, thank Merlin she’d remembered to attend class that day.

As she focuses on steering she notices the rise of something maroon in the corner of her eye. James making his way to the edge of the ship, the song getting louder as the siren realized she’d soon have control of the ship’s Captain. And (Y/n), unsure whether it be from love or jealousy, could not let that happen. “Cocktail,” her voice is stressed and jagged, catching the dog’s attention as his head tilts. “Go get Hook!” The large ball of fur barrels forward, entrapping the man’s good arm between his jaws. It solicits a sharp gasp from the pirate, Hook attempting to rip his arm from the dog’s mouth with little success as he tries to reach forwards for the dreadful creature calling out to him. Instead, Cocktail throws his head back, sending the boy stumbling into (Y/n). His lips crash against hers but it’s not right. Sloppy and hazy, like a kiss after a few too many drinks. If only true love’s kiss could work on a siren’s song, she’d have help instead of his dead weight pressed against her. It makes her feel uneasy, shoving her boyfriend off of her as she attempts to regain control of the wheel he’d knocked astray yet again. Just a few hundred more feet and one ugly jagged rock until she’d be far enough into the light that the creatures would lose their control on her ship’s crew. She was almost there.

What (Y/n) had no way of knowing was that there would be a waterfall at the end of the cave. The girl making it all the way to the edge just to plummet to the lower seas. Body being thrown to the ground and on top of the captain's, holding her breath as she waits for the worst. The way their bodies all slam back into the deck as the ship’s hull hits the water again seems to stir something in the crew. Hook sitting back up with a firm grip settling on her, hand ghosting over her cheek. “What the hell happened?” She only laughs, grabbing his face and kissing him as if she was never coming up for air. (Y/n) could feel the stress melt from her shoulders as she leaned further into the boy’s lips, near whining against them. He’s the first to pull back, brows furrowed as he stares into her eyes. “My love, what happened.” She shakes her head, “You drove us into a siren’s lair is what happened,” a soft slap falls to his chest, “No more caves.” Each word is said as if it's punctuated, an accusatory finger hitting his chest as she says them.

“I hate to agree with the girl,” Starkey sighs, attempting to undo the rope around him and the rest of the crew, “But no more caves, Captain.” The statement is followed by the rest of the crew, each member seeming to suddenly share the girl’s hatred of caves. “Alright alright,” he pushes her off his lap to stand as Cocktail makes his way over to his owner. “No more caves. Though,” he looks around his ship, nodding in approval, “It seems you may have a rival for first mate, Smee. My girl did a darling job of taking care of my ship and my crew, look at this.” He looks to her with a genuine smile before leaning down to untie his crew, “A marvelous job, Darling.” Starkey glares at the Captain, a breath of jealousy in his eyes, “Says the man who doesn’t currently have rope burn.” The comment earns him a hook under his chin, Hook’s eyes squinting as they look into his own, “I’d watch your mouth matey. Seems to me that she just saved your life.”

#descendants #james hook #descendants rise of red #descendants fanfiction #descendants x reader #james hook fanfic #james hook x reader

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suckerforblondeathletes · 9 months ago

Text

Its you, it always has been - Caitlin Clark .2

Caitlin Clark x teammate reader

Summary: Caitlin shows up to Kate house to get reassurance from her friend. One thing leads to another she confronts Connor and confesses.

Warnings: Connor, cheating?, Kissing, hinting to sex

Authors note: This is ass but enjoy!

“Damn what happened to you” Kate says with a laugh as she opens the door wider to let Caitlin in. She hasn’t seen Caitlin look this shocked in a while. It has been two days since the Connor and shower incident. Lets just say y'all woke up together..

“Am I gay?” Kate laughs out loud at Caitlins words. “Oh my god Caitlin, I don’t know.” Kate can barely get the sentence out from all of the laughing. Never heard her friend say something like this. “KATE I FUCKED ONE OF OUR TEAMMATES AND I LIKED IT AND I THINK I HAVE FEELINGS FOR HER BUT IM WITH CONNOR AND I DONT EVEN FUCKING LIKE HIM BUT I LOVE THIS GIRL SO MUCH” Caitlin screams out in one breath. Making Kate’s laughing stop immediately and her face drop.

“Oh, umm okay.” Kate says, still in shock on what just happened. “Well, umm come and sit.” She gestures to the grey couch. Caitlin practically runs to it and faces Kate, putting her hands on Kate’s knee for her to be serious. “Kate, I liked it. She told me she did as well and she said she would do it again if she had the chance.” “Who?” Kate asks like a teenage girl in middle school, hearing the latest gossip her friend is spilling. “Promise you won’t say anything.” Immediately after Caitlin says it Kate throws up her pinky. “I promise”

“Okay, it’s ____” Caitlin says under her breath, almost inaudible but Kate heard it, she knew she heard it when Kate gasped like she just witnessed a crime scene. “Be so for real.” She said. Not believing the brunette. “Kate I’m dead fucking serious. And I’m in love with her. Is that gay?” Caitlin asks furrowing her brows asking the question. “Yeah that’s really gay Cait. So what are you gonna do?” Seconds pass before Caitlin answers “I don’t know. What will the public think?” “If it’s true love you feel for her, it doesn’t matter what they think”It feels like a century before Caitlin speaks again“You know what. Fuck it.” She says before jumping off Kate’s couch and running out the door. “Text me!” Kate screams before the door shuts.

Caitlins Pov:

I take a deep breath looking at our apartment. I’m about to do this, I don’t know what will happen. To be honest, I’m fucking terrified.

I grab my key and open the door. Connor is sitting on the couch. Not alone.

“Wow” I say, clapping my hands and slowly walking into the living room. “God!” He jumps, apparently very focused on the blonde on his chest. The naked one in fact. “Caitlin! What the fuck are you doing here!? I thought you left!” “It’s my apartment Connor. It was ours! But now it’s mine. Get out or I’m calling the cops!” I scream at him. The girl on his chest, well not anymore, looking absolutely terrified as she runs to grab her stuff and leaving quickly.

“Your gonna kick me out of my house?!” He screams at me. It doesn’t affect like it used to. “Do you pay bills? Do you clean? Do you cook? No you don’t. So get the fuck out.” He rolls his eyes at me, knowing he can’t fight me on that. “You’re so fucking sick. I hope you fucking die. I hope you loose all your fans doing this. They will see how abusive and toxic you are.” “Oh I’m sure they will, get the fuck out. Take your shit with you.”

I stand at the glass door, watching him and that girl walk away. I feel like my past just walked away from me. He was supposed to be my future. But I’ve found that somewhere else, I’ve found someone else. Some who loves me and cares for me. Someone I deserve.

－

Reader Pov:

I pull up to her apartment after her text. I run up the steps to see her at the door. We make eye contact through the glass door. I see tears start to fill her eyes as she send me a smile. She did it.

I rush to open the door and when I do I wrap my arms around her neck quickly. Hers going to their home at my waist. “I’m proud of you, you did what needed to be done.” I say, pushing on the back her head to be deeper in my neck. “I love you.” She says in my neck. My heart drops. She pulls her face out of the crook of my neck to look in my eyes. “I love you too” I pull our faces to meet.

Our lips lock perfectly. Like a puzzle, waiting to be solved. Questions are silenced, the world goes quiet. Nothing but our screaming love for each other. She pulls away to look in my eyes “I love you."

－

#caitlin clark headcannons #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin x reader #caitlin imagine #caitlin clark #Caitlin Clark imagine #iowa x reader #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wbb imagine #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #part 2/2

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

At Least I Keep His Eyes in My Life

Day 2 of @erisweekofficial: Childhood/legacy - You and Eris weren’t meant to be, but the red hair definitely doesn’t come from your family…..

(Also, I’m picturing Asher around like 4-5 years old, i know very little about kids this age so sorry if it seems all over the place)

Warnings: Slightly sexual content, emotional infidelity, cheating, childbirth

WC: 5.7k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears (find the post here)

You were giggling like you were a teenager again. Sneaking out in the dead of night, cloak pulled tight against your head to block out the sparse light from the lanterns on the street. The temple was within your sight now and your heart was beating into your throat. You could very well get killed for what you were about to do but it would be worth it.

The door was slightly opened, leaving you the opportunity to slip in without making a sound. The tiny light seeping through a door in the back led you to where you needed to go.

The room was small, the fire keeping out the chill of the winter night. Those amber eyes filled with a softness reserved only for you as you walked into the room. Your smile was so wide that it made your jaw hurt, but nothing could wipe it from your face. Not when you finally dropped your cloak and saw the tears well in Eris’ eyes. The emerald dress you had worn on your first date all those years ago had you blushing as you remembered how it felt for his lips to be on yours for the first time.

You had never been happier in all your life than when the priestess joined your hands with that red ribbon. When you felt the pattern burn into your finger, right where your ring would sit once Eris was High Lord. Promises of your life together flowed from your lips like honey wine. Sweet and warm in the small space. Eris took your face between his hands like you were the most delicate flower in the world, his lips tasting like the tart red wine you two shared with each other. When you looked into his eyes, you saw your whole life. Your past together, your present joy, and all the love the future promised to bring you.

That night was the best of your life. Eris whispering every promise on your skin as you too celebrated in your own way. Wrapped in each other until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he started. But the morning came too fast. The sun wiping away the joy as you realized you would have to go back to court and pretend that you didn’t know every piece of Eris’ soul. The scent shield hiding all evidence that you were Eris’ and he was yours. You parted with a long kiss that was tinged with sadness. But also the reminder that you would see him again once the sun set. The only time you were free to love him unashamedly.

------

You should have known the mother was being far too kind to you. You should be grateful that you ever got to pretend that Eris was yours. Be grateful for that one little moment of happiness you had been granted. It was more than you ever deserved in this life.

Eris had been walking with you through the long hallways of the Autumn court palace. Your laughter flitting through the empty space, carrying through the halls like a symphony that was all of Eris’ composition.

But something suddenly felt very wrong. Eris had gone wholly still next to you, his joke dying on his tongue. You looked at him and could only watch in horror as you followed his eye line. He dropped your hand quickly, letting it hang limply by your side devoid of his calming warmth. It was like you could see that golden thread as it stretched across the room. Tying Eris not to you, but to some other lady of the court. Her eyes were wide as saw the same string that tied her to Eris, to your husband, at the same time he did. Your heart shattered on the floor as the female in front of you all but squealed with joy. There was not a touch of warmth coming off of Eris right now. Too frozen to go after the girl that was inevitably running to tell her friends what had just happened. You wanted to run after her, to beg her to be silent but your begging would only prompt her to tell more people. So you only stood in the wallway, watching as every thought of your future came shattering down around you.

Your own mating bond snapped not long after. Only adding to the agony that seemed to follow your every breath. Throwing the final handful of dirt on the possibility of any future with Eris in it. You had been visiting the day court for a personal matter. Seeing an old friend's new babe. The feeling of love that the couple shared pushed you towards one of the many bars in day.

You never assumed you would have a mate. The thought of ever loving someone the way you loved Eris, of being tied to someone like that was utterly ridiculous.

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

Eris and you had snuck away for the second time in as many days. With his mating ceremony rapidly approaching, there was less and less time for the two of you to be together alone. He traced over the spot on your finger where your marriage ceremony mark was, the one that proved to you exactly where his heart laid.

“We should just run away. Leave all of this.” Eris muttered, eyes locked on those swirling patterns.

“He would find you and you know it.”

You didn’t have to say who. Eris’ father, while slightly disappointed about the outcome of the mating bond, was just happy it was within the nobility of Autumn.

“No one could change how I feel about you. Mating bond or not, it will always be you. I need you to remember that.”

—————-

It had been five years since you found your mate. He was sweet. Sweeter than you could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the love match you had dreamed up when you were little. He knew you had a hard time returning his affections. Didn’t complain when you only shared a bed with him for sleep after the mating frenzy was over. A fact he didn’t hold against you. You were from autumn. Bred to be the partner of a certain would-be high lord. It had been a disappointment to everyone when Eris’ bond snapped for someone else. It was far more than a disappointment to you. Heartbreaking. Earth shattering. An utter upheaval of your entire life. Only solidified when you bonded with Sol. The mother thought that you weren’t good enough for Eris.

——

Childbirth was one of the most painful things you had ever experienced. Sol sat through all of it with you. Sat through the screaming and you clutching his hand so tightly that you felt the bones move. You would apologize if it wasn’t taking every ounce of your focus to remember to push.

“Just one more big one. I can see the head.” And you wanted to cry. Maybe you were crying but you found it in yourself to bear down for one last push. There was silence in the room for a heartbeat before a perfectly healthy wail pierced the air. Your head fell back on the pillow at the sound, breathing for the first time in what felt like hours.

You heard faint whispers coming from the healers in between your legs. But you were too exhausted to truly care what they were saying. Just relieved for it to be all over, for the babe that you were now cradling in your arms. Still covered in afterbirth, you had decided that nothing in the world had ever been as beautiful as your son. Your heart warmed as you saw those amber eyes staring back at you. Amber eyes. The thought was enough to send a cold chill over your whole body. As you looked into those eyes that absolutely did not belong to you, or your mate. Your hands shook as you peeled back the blanket enough to spot the matching mahogany curls, however sparse, there was no denying the color. Your throat felt stiff, breathing became difficult. You felt Sol move to your side, feeling your flood of emotions through the bond.

“Darling, it’s only normal to feel overwhelmed, you just-” His words cut off with a ragged breath as he saw the same thing you did. The silence filled the room as he must have been doing the same mental math you were. You felt the rush of his emotions down the bond. Shock, betrayal. And then something unexpected, acceptance.

“He is beautiful.” Was all he said.

“Sol-” He held up a hand to cut off the apology on your tongue. Because that’s what you should be doing. You should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness. He could kill you right on the spot as well as your babe. The babe that was undeniably not his. That looked so much like the newly crowned High Lord, it burned the edge of the scar in your heart that had only just begun to heal. How could you ever forget him now? This child was supposed to be the start of your new life. The proof that you needed to tell yourself that Sol was the one that you were supposed to end up with. This future was no longer supposed to be yours. The future that you dreamed of in that small run down temple. That was a life that had been erased from your story.

“What should we name him?” Was all Sol said as he looked down at the child.

“Asher.” You didn’t hesitate. Sol didn’t even blink at the autumn court name. He only nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead.

You were about to say something else when the babe in your arms began to fuss and you quickly pushed him into your chest, instantly soothing him as he began to nurse. This many emotions should be impossible to feel all at once. You should feel mortified. You should be ashamed but some mascostic part of you was overjoyed. You could keep some part of the love of your life with you. While you might never be able to see what Eris would be as a father, you would get to see just exactly what his son would be like. And you could only clutch your babe further to your chest as you mourned the future that the mother destined had not been you before in the same breath, you thanked the mother for her small mercies.

———

You never thought you would be back in the Autumn court. Having moved to Day with your mate, you left without a second thought. But standing amongst the rich colors and ripe scent of your home court, you realized how much you had missed it. As you walked down the street, holding your son tight to your chest, your mate's hand in the other, your mind started to wonder. You and Eris used to run up and down these streets. There was so much light in them now. Boarded up windows now overflowing with flowers and flickering lights from fireplaces. This was nothing like the court you had fled from. Eris had changed so much in only a handful of years, just like he said he would. “I’ll make this a court something you would be proud of, something deserving of your beauty” Eris had whispered against your skin the night before it all went to hell, the night you had conceived the small child currently pulling on your hair.

“Behave.” You said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as Asher giggled at you, pressing his face against your neck. The motion tugged on the edges of the thick hat that was covering his head. Sol didn’t hesitate to right it, placing a quick kiss to your cheek to cover the motion. It was chilly enough that the hat would have been necessary anyway, especially since the day court tended to be on the warmer side.

Your bags were brought up to your room in the palace the moment you arrived, which had prompted your idea of showing Sol around the streets you had once been so familiar with. A small part of your heart ached when you saw the new shops and heard the shouts of children. Sounds that once would have caused sharp commands of keeping quiet, sounds that would have caused fear of drawing the wrong attention. If this was so unfamiliar, a part of you wondered what else had changed. Would you even recognize the high lord you were attending the party of?

The thoughts bounced around in your head, uncomfortable. You had almost thought of denying the invitation when it arrived, held it over the flames with every intention of dropping it in but it felt like the coward's option. Sol was expected to go to events such as this as part of his duties as one of the many researchers for the day court. Knowledge collectors that would frequent other courts, trading for any information to add to the sprawling libraries of the court. Your mate had told you plenty of times that he would understand if you didn’t want to come, your son was young enough that wherever you went, he would come as well. You brushed it off, but now standing in the cobblestone streets, you were kicking yourself for not accepting his offer.

After your stroll in the city, it was time to start getting ready for dinner. Much to your surprise there was a gown already laid out on the bed. Your chest felt tight as you stared at the dark green fabric. You shook your head to hold back the tears that were threatening to ruin your makeup. The fabric felt familiar on your skin. Sol said nothing about the gown that you most certainly didn’t pack, only offered his hand out. “You look radiant.” He brought your hand up to his lips when you placed yours against his. You could only smile up at him, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble of your fingers.

The walk to the dining room was something that you could have done in your sleep. But, just like the city outside, the palace was so different that it had you doubting your steps. Although, it seemed your memory hadn't failed you because soon you were greeted with those carved doors that swirled like the leaves in an autumn storm.

You had pleaded with your mother to let you skip the dinner. You had heard the whisperings of how cruel the high lord and his sons were. Honestly, you were scared of meeting them. Meeting him. Your betrothed. The words felt weird in your brain. You knew very well what that would mean and it didn’t all sound appealing. Your mother was having none of your whining, forcing the laces on your corset tighter still. The air rushed out of your lungs at the harsh pull, your hand on your bedpost was the only thing that stopped you from crashing back into her. She led you, snapping at you to calm the trembling in your hands. “You do not show weakness.” was the mantra she lived by. Power hungry since her birth, you were a way to gain power and you knew that from a young age. The doors of the dining room entered before you, interrupting the patterns you were following with your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down. It was clear you had stumbled upon an argument, the high lord's face was tenser than you had seen it previously. He was staring daggers at what you could only assume was one of his sons, if the red hair was any indication.

Your eyes followed his and you fought the shock off of your face. Saying he was handsome was an understatement. Even through his anger he was gorgeous. Curly red hair was pulled back from his face, stray pieces framing his face. The deep emerald shirt he wore made the smattering of freckles on his face almost glow in contrast. When his amber eyes turned to you, you quickly looked to the ground. Embarrassed you had been caught staring so intently.

Your mother introduced you quickly. The high lord stood in front of you, appraising you. A hand reached out to grab a lock of your hair and every part of you went deathly still. You fought the flinch as he stepped away from you. “You’ll do. Now, I would like to introduce my son. Your future husband, Eris.” Against your will, you smiled warmly at him as the handsome male rose to his feet. He grabbed your hand and placed a light kiss to your knuckles before he guided you to your seat beside him.

——

You didn’t have to search for him. You knew you would have found him in any room, no matter the crowd. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you were suddenly unable to look away from the high lord in front of you. It was so much harder than you had thought it would have been. Seeing him, that crown on his head. That was when a motion by his side caught your attention, brought you back to the present. His mate was beautiful, hair perfectly curled, sweeping down across her shoulders. A nasty part of you thought how washed out the maroon dress made her. It didn’t go with her light green eyes, her fair blonde hair. You pushed down the cruel thoughts and focused on the pressure of Sol’s hand on yours. Eris only gave you a beaming smile before you turned your head away from him. The only seats open were closer to his end of the table and you quickly sat yourself down. Placing your hand in Sols

Everyone in court was here. The difference of the loud room was enough to make a smile touch your face. There were even some familiar faces, children you had been raised up with. Friends that had witnessed all of the drama that unfolded.

Dinner passed without event. Small talk became louder as more bottles of wine were shared. Sol had taken up a conversation with one of the lords that managed the farms for the autumn court healers. You did your best to join the conversation when you could add something, making a point to ignore the eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. His presence was nearly suffocating, it weighted the air, nearly choking you with the smell of him. Mercifully you made it out of dinner without having to talk to him. Sol didn’t question when you dismissed yourself the moment after dessert was served. You went to collect Asher from the room full of children, making sure his hat was still firmly seated on his head. You pulled it off when you got to your room, picking out his clothes for bed before you let him get changed. After you pulled him tight against your chest and told him one of his favorite bedtime stories and watched him drift off to sleep.

-----

You turned around a corner, not so much running but walking fast to try to get to your hiding spot in time. Asher had demanded the two of you play hide and seek after waking up early. You were more than happy to oblige the demand, telling him to count. To his credit, he had done a great job with the first few numbers. But quickly got side tracked and you heard the loud “Ready or not” echo through the halls and had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

You almost stumbled back when you crashed into a firm chest. A hand wrapped around your waist to steady you and you didn’t have to look up to know exactly who it was. You tried to step back. Tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced through you at the touch.

“Eris.” You politely said. You tried to step around him but he moved with you. Perfectly mirroring your movement.

“I didn’t get to speak to you last night.” His voice was like a balm to you, even now. Your ears seemed to perk up at the sign, instantly searching for it even when he had stopped talking.

“It didn’t feel..appropriate.”

“Why wouldn’t it? We were friends our whole childhood. There's nothing wrong with friends catching up.”

“Because we were..” You couldn’t form the words.

“More than friends?”

“Yes, Eris.” You sighed heavily. You didn’t want to be having this conversation in the middle of the palace. “Now please. I-”

He wrapped a soft hand around your arm and pulled you behind one of the pillars in the hallway.

“Tell me you still feel it. That pull towards each other?” He whispered, his face suddenly so close to yours that you could count his freckles.

Eris pulled you tight against him. Every inch of him pressing against you. Your heartbeat sped up despite yourself. “This is a horrible idea.” You spoke the words but made no effort to move, instead you leaned into the heat of him. Drinking in the stolen moments. His hand lightly brushed your chin and you allowed him to guide your head up, your lips were inches away from each other. Eris’ eyes were trained on your lips and every ounce of strength left your body at the hunger you saw in them. He moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. And you wish you could have, wish you could have done anything except press closer to him. When your lips connected it was like he had bathed you in his fire. It was heaven and hell all at once. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of his intoxicating scent, the clove and cinnamon smell you could recognize anywhere. His lips were soft and demanding. Tongue forcing your mouth open, stroking the inside of your mouth in a way that your hands reach for any part of him. His own hands had rested on the small of your back, clutching you to him. Neither of you moved to take the kiss further. It seemed to go on forever but it still wasn’t enough when you pulled away, panting for air. His hands only tightened on you when you tried to step away.

“Eris-”

“Mommy! I found you!” Both of you jumped apart.You swore you felt your heart stop. You had completely forgotten how you had ended up in the hallway in the first place, too overwhelmed with Eris’ presence. You could only stare in horror as Eris stared at the small child standing before the two of you. Eris knew you had a child, had sent you presents the weeks after to congratulate you and Sol. You forced a smile onto your face and swept your son off of his feet.

“Of course you did, my smart boy. Come on, I’ll let you hide this time.” You pulled your son tighter to you, shifting his weight to a hip. He was almost getting too big to comfortably carry.

“How high should I count?.” You asked, smiling down at him.

“A thousand.” He didn’t hesitate.

“A thousand?!” You pitched your voice up, letting him know your surprise.

“Yep. A thousand.”

“Well then you better get to hiding, I’ll be counting forever.”

“Will you play with us?” Asher asked, looking at Eris fully now. You struggled against the squirming child in your arms.

“I would lo-”

“Asher. I’m sure the high lord is very busy. Far too busy to play with us.”

“But-” Your son started to protest.

“Your mother is right. I forgot I had a meeting, but how about this, I’ll have the cooks bring up a treat to make up for my absence.” His eyes flickered to yours on the last word. “And it will allow me time to talk to your mother.”

Asher lost interest after hearing he would have a special treat, always code for something sweet. His eyes were round as saucers.

“Thank you!” He said before he turned his focus back to you. “Did you hear that mommy, I’m going to get a treat.”

“Well then we should start our next game now. It might take me until then to find you in this place.”

His giggled filled the air at the idea. You placed a kiss on his cheek before you set him down on his feet. He didn’t hesitate before he ran off in the opposite direction, legs wobbling slightly at his speed.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” You turned quickly, feeling Eris’ hand on your arm. You quickly removed it and started in the direction Asher had run off to. You couldn’t find the strength to look back and see whatever emotion was swirling in Eris’ eyes. Refused to listen to the questions that were written all over his face and went to go find your son.

It had been easy to find him. You knew every inch of this palace like the back of your hand, and had already found all the good hide and seek spots during your years spent helping Eris look for his brothers.

Sol was already in your room when you brought your bleary eyed son into the room. He was still taking naps during the day, despite how much he would fight against them. Shame suddenly creeped into you as you recalled the events from earlier. You were half expecting him to scream and yell at you, like Eris’ hand prints were burned into your skin and he would be able to tell.

“Eris came by earlier.” Your heart dropped, he knew and you haven't been the one to tell him. “He was asking a lot of questions about Asher.”

“Oh.” Was all you said as you placed your son down on his bed.

“I told him if he wanted answers, he should talk to you. To which he said, he tried and you had all but ran away.” There was no accusation in his words. Just like normal for him. He was more kind than you ever deserved.

You sighed as you softly closed the door to Asher's attached room.

“I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” You knew you needed to tell him what had happened before that. “Eris and I-”

“Whatever happened, happened. I expected something.” He sighed. “How are you feeling, I know you were trying to avoid this.”

You approached your mate, you gently placed a hand on his cheek.

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” You felt the sting of tears prickle in the back of your teeth. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he could stay locked in his room the whole time he was here. I just hoped that I could have controlled it, I was a little blind sided.”

“Whatever you choose to tell him, I’m beside you.” Sol looked so deep in your eyes it was like he could see through you. “No matter what you decide. I’m always here.”

“I think I need to talk to him.”

Sol only nodded. “I’ll be right here.” You placed a soft kiss on Sol’s lips. You truly didn’t deserve him.

It wasn’t hard to find Eris. He only had a few spots he went when there was something troubling him. Just outside of the grounds of the palace, the tiny garden where you two had kissed for the first time.

“Eris.” You started, suddenly not knowing what to say. He turned to face you and your heart lurched. He had been crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, truly heartbroken.

“What would it have accomplished? You have a mate, I have a mate”

“Did you know we haven’t been able to…” HIs voice trailed off before he started again. “Her sister has more kids then she knows what to do with and we just can’t. We assumed it was me.”

You couldn’t find the words to answer, not knowing what to say. Hating the images that his words painted. Of course they would have tried. Sol and you had thought you had gotten insanely lucky. Besides the initial mating frenzy, you had never slept with him. You stayed in the same bed but when you tried to be intimate with your mate it usually led to you crying, wrapped in his arms. It hurt some selfish part of you to know that Eris didn’t seem to have the same issue.

“y/-” His voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t” Your voice broke, giving away the tears you were desperately fighting back. “What’s done is done. Don’t start this now.”

“I would have made you my High Lady. Did you ever question why she wasn't?”

“I didn’t think about you one way or another.” A lie. A lie that even though Eris could see right through, cut deep nonetheless.

“Not even when you look at our child?”

“My child, Eris, is none of your concern.”

He flinched then, flinched like you had slapped him.

“Does he know?” He wasn’t asking about your mate.

“Of course not. And as long as I’m alive, he never will.”

“No one has ever questioned?”

“No.”

“What happens when he starts showing the signs? The first son of a high lord will start showing powers sooner or later. Tell me, darling, has he started burning the curtains yet? Setting his clothes on fire?” You kept your face as neutral as possible. Revealing nothing. “He has. I was younger than him when I started presenting the signs. So, tell me again that you don’t think about me when you look at him. Tell me that some part of you doesn’t still love me and I will walk away right now.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He kept prying. Was trying to get those damning words out of her.

“I don’t love you. I love my child. I love my mate.”

You saw something in his face fall, a light in his eyes fade away.

“And if any part of you loves me, you’ll leave us alone. I’ll deal with the inconveniences when they present themselves.” You spit out, forcing venom to lace the words.

Eris reached for you, arms flying out to grab onto any part of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. But you were already walking away. Leaving those words hanging in the air, the threat in those words unmistakable.

You prayed you were far enough away before the sobs racked through you. They were strong enough to knock your knees out from under you but you had to get back to your room. No one in the palace could see you fall apart like this. You managed to make it to your room, sliding along the wall, knees hugged tightly against your chest. Every part of your body locked when you felt a strong hand rubbing along your back. The smell was wrong. Not cinnamon and pine, but honeysuckle and citrus. Your mate. His presence should have comforted you, and you desperately wished it would. Sol knew when you looked up at him, tears glazing your eyes, knew that whatever conversation had just occurred that it broke you. Some little part of you that you had held onto all these years, Eris had broken it. You wanted to hide it, assure your mate that he was enough. That was what you had always told yourself, told him and he gladly accepted the lie every time.

“You still love him.” Not a question. Not an accusation either. Spoken plainly like the truth it was. You nodded, sobbing so hard you retched.

“I want to go home.” You choked out, throat threatening to close.

“This is your home.” You shook your head, the words bouncing around like angry wasps.

“No. Not anymore.”

“Wherever he is, that will be your home.” There was no pain in his voice. Sol had always been too understanding, too gentle and kind. He knew from the moment he met you what Eris had meant to you. “I don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

“It was never about deserving.” Sol was on the ground in front of you. Arms wrapped around you, absorbing each shudder of your body. “You will never love me the same way. But you love me in every way that matters. So if you want to go home, then we go home. If you want to stay here, then you stay here. We’ll figure out everything else as we go.” His words only made you cry harder.

“Why do you not hate me? You’re my mate and here I am.”

“After all that you’ve sacrificed… Do you hate me?” He asked, some light teasing in his voice. You shook your head.

“How could I?”

“Exactly. Now what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home. To our home. I want to forget about all of this.” You took a deep breath, breath hitching on every lungful. “I want to learn to love you. Love us.” you looked into his eyes, warm golden eyes that you had always ignored. Now you had never been so grateful for them, golden not amber. “If you would want that.” You added. Not daring to hope that he would

Sol smiled, a real smile that filled you with warmth from the bond.

“I would like that very much.”

The pair of you just sat there. Holding each other and you said goodbye to that small part of your heart that you thought would never heal. Buried it. The ache let you know it would never be forgotten, that part of you that loved Eris so deeply it outlasted a mating bond. But you would keep a small part of him. Always. At least you could keep his eyes in your life. And wrapped in the arms of your mate, it would be enough. You would make it be enough.

#acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris acotar #erisweek2024 #eris x reader #eris angst #eris fluff #tw cheating

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moutainrusing · 4 months ago

Text

supernatural

729 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Children wouldn’t see it coming. Children were reckless like that. Carefree and careless in an innocent combination of childishness. They had been children. So when their bonfire went out of control, who was to blame?

Sirius blamed himself. Remus died that night. Sirius, James and Peter had managed to escape, but Remus had inhaled too much smoke. His lungs gave out. His lungs stopped working permanently. His body shut down permanently. His lips turned blue, and Sirius had only kissed them once when they were pink. Now he wouldn’t do that ever again.

Remus’s immune system had always been shit. Remus’s parents couldn’t talk to Sirius anymore. Because they blamed him. Why wouldn’t they?

Sirius walked like a ghost of himself. He didn’t sleep. He felt disconnected from his body. He wished he were dead.

With Remus or instead of Remus?

Sometimes he felt Remus. Sometimes he saw Remus. Remus was an actual ghost.

“Hi, Sirius,” Remus smiled. “What’re we up to today?” We. They could’ve been something, if Sirius’s teenage adrenaline hadn’t wanted to set the world aflame.

Remus’s grin was still cheeky, his eyes, pale and translucent, still glinted mischievously; it was almost like he was alive.

At first, Sirius hadn’t acknowledged this sign of insanity. Eventually, he embraced it.

He talked back to the ghost, and they pretended they were alive together. Well, Sirius did. Remus seemed to actually think he was alive. He kept asking if Sirius wanted to go outside with him, why Sirius never left the room, why Sirius was so miserable, if Sirius needed anything from him, which Sirius did. He needed everything. Remus kept rambling about the future, about life, and Sirius wanted to throw something; YOU ARE DEAD! But…

I’ll pretend you’re alive.

No one else could see Remus, and apparently, Remus couldn’t see anyone else either.

James sometimes entered, and he and Remus had no clue that they were both there.

“Who’re you talking to?” They’d ask simultaneously, both concerned.

James was also grieving. He was seeing a grief counsellor. He wanted Sirius to come too, but Sirius preferred Remus. A ghost.

One day, Remus touched him. Sirius flinched back in shock, eyes wide, skin tingling, questions running through his mind incessantly, like a train crashing down an endless mountain. His mouth opened around silent vowels, closed when the consonants wouldn’t come out, like a fish out of water, drowning in air.

“Sorry,” Remus was saying obliviously. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I was trying to respect your personal space, but I thought maybe touch would comfort you? Sorry. I won’t—”

Sirius flung himself into Remus’s arms. The scene shifted.

It was his room, but darker. A black, bruised blue. As if the night sky had swallowed it, glowing eerily. He pulled back and stared at Remus. Remus’s lips were pink again. Remus didn’t seem surprised.

“Want to go outside with me?” Remus suggested easily.

“I—”

Remus pulled Sirius out of the room. The door creaked open, old, worn, mouldy.

The garden was dry, patchy, burnt.

The forest. Where Remus had died. It was… shining. Bright white, like the sun when it was clear, hot, intense.

And the clearing, where the bonfire had been. A fleshy, puckered whale was curled up in it. Remus smiled fondly, pointing, “That’s my parent.”

Sirius stared. What about… Hope and Lyall?

“They’ve wanted to meet you,” Remus continued blindly. As he spoke, soft like a lullaby, the whale awoke. It was possibly huger than a whale. Its face was wide and stretched horizontally, and so were its nostrils, spilling with hair longer and blacker than Sirius’s own. Its skin was a blood-like pink, scarred, scabbed, open wounds, and it was groaning, floundering towards them.

“I love them,” Remus was murmuring, almost hypnotised. Sirius stared.

“Where are we?” He turned to Remus, seeking the safety he always found there.

But Remus didn’t look at him. “Where you’ve always been.”

- - -

LOCAL HEADLINES

TEEN DEATH TOLL RISES TO TWO IN ONE WEEK

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were best friends, roommates at the local boarding school…

James put the paper down, tears splashing onto the faces of his dead best friends. “And they were roommates…” he smiled weakly.

Around the cookie he was munching, his sugar consumption having doubled now that he was grieving two lost friends, Peter emptily echoed, “Oh my God… they were roommates.”

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #microfiction #remus x sirius #james potter #wolfstar microfic #peter pettigrew

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abibliophobiaa · 11 months ago

Text

sea, swallow me

i don’t know, i was feeling some type of way, because i have been struggling to write lately. might be something i continue. angst under the cut. eddie munson x g/n reader. (1k words). s4 events, such as reminders of eddie’s sleep, but he is not dead here.

——

“We found him.”

Three words. Three words. That’s all it takes.

Three words and you’re spiraling, spinning, racing to grab your things and rush out the halls of the gymnasium after a limping Dustin.

Pain flares in your body. Where you landed as you leaped through that gaping hole in the trailer ceiling. The ceiling that’s ripped in two now. The same place where you tried to go back to days ago, if only to search for Eddie’s things. His mom’s records.

He would want his mom’s records.

But like him — everything was gone.

Everything is gone.

Empty. Broken. Utterly scarred by a hateful world Vecna ripped apart.

You’re in tatters too. Broken clavicle. Scratches and scrapes. Rocks embedded in your palms from grasping them too tightly, screaming and weeping into the sky when Steve had tried to pull you away from him.

Away from Eddie’s mangled body.

So much blood, all the blood from his heart seeped into the earth. The same heart that beat for you.

You still recall laying against him in his room only days before, fingers laced together as tight as they could, dreaming of a future that seemed so bright. One where he graduated, you ran away, started a new life together.

He’d leaned over and kissed you. Whispered how much he loved you as he rolled over you, holding you gently like a lover. Fingers gliding over skin, removing you of clothes, kissing every part of you he revealed. And as you lay together after, promised you a forever that seemed destined by the stars themselves.

Some might think you were both mad. Two young adults, barely out of their teenage years, craving a freedom that their present lives wouldn’t allow them.

And for a time it seemed within grasp, standing on the edges of your fingertips, a wisp of a thing that turned into ash in the wind that day.

The day that changed everything.

Steve’s house is quiet when you enter. Your keys and shoes forgotten in the doorway, Dustin glancing over his shoulder to urge you on. Urge you toward whatever stands before you as you make your way to Steve’s room.

To the figure in his bed, staring up at a white ceiling, hair a disheveled mess and yet as you remember it to be.

You remember the way it always feels between your fingertips. The curls gliding across your skin, weaving between your fingers when he’d lay against your chest, basking in the mere peace of togetherness, tickling your shoulder when he would nuzzle your neck, the way it had felt against the insides of your thighs.

Steve calls your name softly. Nancy falls away from where she sits beside the man, her fingers pressed to the inside of Eddie’s wrist, mouth a firm line. There’s a hollowness to the way Robin regards you. A tentative curl of her usually upturned lips, an uncertainty you can’t quite place a name to bubbling up within you.

Steve tries again, and it feels like a warning this time, but you’re pushing into the bedroom. Pushing into Eddie’s arms, wanting to feel him, wanting to know he’s really there.

And he is. Solid body, thumping heart, unmarked skin where there were holes in his body. So many gnarled bites, pulsing beneath your fingertips that day, each one driving him closer and closer into his grave until they took him from you all together.

It shouldn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be here. There’s some sort of magic, maybe a dark one, that has brought him back to you whole. But you’ll gladly jump into hell all over again to bring him back.

Because for a moment he’s here and all those dreams, all those wants and desires, they’re a reality once more.

One that you’ll never take for granted.

You can start all over, get out of here, do all the things you’ve wanted to.

And then.

A sentence.

A question really.

“I’m sorry…I don’t — I don’t want to be —” Eddie swallows. You feel his throat bob against your head pressed to his throat. His perfectly untarnished throat. “Who are you?”

A lance.

That’s what it feels like as his words pierce your chest over and over again. The questioning in his voice, in his eyes as you pull back. His eyes that are darker than you remember. Darker with a red rim around the edges.

Eddie’s eyes…and also not.

Eddie features almost boyish now otherwise, despite that haunted look behind those irises. Not his nearly twenty one years. His head tilts to the side, regarding your features, roving over your form as he tries to line up pieces that don��t seem to fit together anymore.

A final blow. It’s a final blow as his fingers reach for yours, but come up empty, as he offers comfort to a stranger.

Steve calls your name once more. It’s a phantom of a thing. A whisper that bounces off the insides of your mind, but all you can hear is the roaring in your ears. A tumultuous sea that you pray — no beg — swallows you whole.

“I’m sorry —” Eddie rises from the bed, but Dustin is there with a hand against his shoulder. With eyes that offer sympathy you plead that the world would grant you now too.

Not this horror. Not this reality of an existence where Eddie doesn’t remember you.

A year of memories that feel like seconds ago to you spread out like tiny stars in a sprawling galaxy, but are gone like smoke behind the eyes that once looked through your soul.

Those same eyes that grant you sadness now.

They’re all staring at you that way.

Rimmed with pity.

A pity you don’t want.

“I just — I need a moment,” you gasp.

No one stops you. As you run down the hall, down the stairs, out onto the front stop.

The winds in your ears beckon.

The waves laugh as your knees buckle and you meet grass below.

And they swallow you as you scream.

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #Spotify

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

Text

Crawl back to you: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Mexican!reader celebrating dia de los muertos, going throught the process of grieving after Jason's dead and her process of getting better through the years with a little plot twist at the end.

Thank you @thefandomdiaries07 - I played with the idea somewhat, hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: this is not, in any way, a hate on religious belief, the reader's attitude just fit in the plot. (no offence to anyone meant here, truly)

***

Dia de los muertos.

Day of the Dead.

Despite her origin and upbringing Y/N never really felt connected to this celebration.

Remembering people who died and who she was too young to remember in the first place felt just … weird.

Of course, her mother, aunts and grandmothers got her involved in preparing the ofrenda and preached her about the importance of preparation for the souls’ arrivals but she always did it only half-heartedly, putting on a fake smile and pretending to enjoy the festivities.

But deep down she felt like a freaking hypocrite, while in fact not feeling anything.

And when her family moved to Gotham, out of all places, it got even worse. Poor girl felt conflicted, unaccepted, unsure of who she was and dealing with identity crisis, going as far as renouncing her ancestry to fit in the crowd. She was a teenager what else could you have expected.

Anyhow.

A few months passed and she got used to that god forsaken, lawless hole, keeping herself a bit away from her family, even if technically she was still living the same house. But with her struggles with ethnicity and traditions, she was a bit of a black sheep of the family, having not many true friends and spending most of the time alone,

recklessly wondering alongside the streets, pretending to be a freaking globetrotter.

And that was how one day she got involved with the batfamily, starting from being saved from an assault, by the Batman sidekick, Robin.

Jason Todd.

Whose name she learnt a few weeks later, having lost all the hope to see that red, green and yellow bird boy ever again.

However, surprisingly, those two clicked fast enough and even though they were technically still young teenagers something bigger than friendship started creeping in.

He kissed her for the first time when they were 15.

And it was magical, romantic and send her into a spiral of love and dreams and worries and thoughts about future.

It was pretty much prefect for a whole year, as they somehow managed to make it work despite being forced to keep their relationship a secret from both families.

Imagine the panic that would spread in her family if they knew she was in love with a vigilante.

Imagine the panic that would spread in his family if they knew he told his identity to a girl he fell for.

That was obviously a no go.

So they kept on meeting in secret.

Almost every night she sneaked out of the house to check out on him after patrol and he was escaping Batman’s watchful gaze to have at least a few hours together alone with .

But one night changed everything.

He went to search for his biological mother.

And she should have stopped him or tell him how reckless he was being or do anything to dissuade him from this idea. Instead she laid her head on his shoulder, holding onto him tighter, kissing his lips briefly and making him promise he’d report to her the second he gets back.

A promise he never kept.

***

“Hello? Who’s this?” she picked up her phone, blissfully unaware of the news that was about to fall upon her.

“Hey… um… is this Y/N?” an unrecognisable male voice reverberated on the other side

“Yes” she frowned “Who is this?” the girl asked again.

“My name’s Dick Grayson. I’m Jason’s older adoptive brother. We’ve never met but… I know you two were close…”

Wait. Did he just say were close?

“What – what happened…?”

The receiver fell from her hand, tears flooded her face and her heart broke in half.

***

His funeral was probably the worst day of her life, even though she couldn’t remember much more than the see of blackness, plenty of people she knew from Jason’s stories but saw for the first time and some meaningless words of consolations.

***

YEAR ONE

It had been eight months since his death and she was still grieving, unsure if the pain in her chest would ever subside or the tears would ever dry.

In that short time, she had become very close to Jason's brother, Dick, who was the perfect definition of an eldest child and had sort of taken her under his wing (pun intended). After everything with Jason and everything in between, she couldn't and didn't want to stay in Gotham, a place that was a painful reminder of the past.

Y/N took a different route every time she came across the places where they hung out or where they first kissed and where they secretly met at night and considering the fact that Gotham wasn't that big, it was slowly becoming impossible to move. And going to school and seeing couples and happy people was like a shot to the heart, making her a walking fountain almost every school break.

She felt a sudden need to get away from everything and moved to Bludhaven, where she started a new school and where Dick made sure she was safe and (as much as possible, meaning not much at all) happy.

It was October and dia de los muertos was right around the corner, of which her family was kind enough to inform her, inviting the girl to the family celebrations, and mentioning the resulting obligations of the living.

Making her angry at first.

Angry and with the sense of unfairness and stupidity of life. You’re there one second, enjoying the presence of the loved ones, and then, in another second you are just gone and it’s like you never really existed.

What was the point of life, apart from constant suffering and uncertainty of tomorrow?

This whole celebration freaking sucked, and she was not going to celebrate the death, having loved and lost the most important person in her young life!

But…

Once she got herself into that spiral of thinking, Y/N slowly started feeling something more than annoyance at her nation’s cultural habits, overwhelming depression and lack of any motivation to move on. Maybe…

It was the first time she had someone she knew to remember. And to hope that maybe, on this special day, his soul were walking amongst the living and watching her from the other side even if she could not do the same.

Maybe…

And if he was, maybe it was her only chance to somehow communicate with him, tell him all the words she kept hidden in her soul, that never found a way out. Perhaps from the silent beating of her heart he would feel the love that was still there, the longing, the needing and the fact that despite being gone, he wasn’t and would never be forgotten by her.

Her eyes grew wide and she jumped off the bed, gathering all the necessities and beginning her work.

***

“Y/N?” Punctual as always Dick entered the apartment, carrying the box with her favourite takeout. It was their Thursday tradition to have some good food and hang out together and he was not going to be a breaker. But he definitely did not expect to see his friend kneeling on the floor in front of something that looked like a tiny stairs, painted in red, green and yellow ending with an arch. It was decorated with something he recognised as salt, candles, water and marigold flowers. And the whole apartment smelled like lavender for some reason. “Y/N? What are you doing?” he put the food on the table, seriously concerned by her mental state.

“Oh!” she almost jumped at the sound of his voice, turning around to face him. “Hey, Dick. It’s just a little celebration.”

“Of what?” he frowned, not understanding a thing. “What is this?”

“ofrenda” she explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but his confused gaze made her realise that maybe not everyone were familiar with the festivity. “an offering.”

“An offering? Of what? To who? And why?”

Y/N almost rolled her eyes.

“I thought Bruce made you go the private school. Don’t you know anything about dia de los muertos?”

“I thought you were done with your national customs?”

“I was…” she sighed deeply reaching for the picture she was about to hang in her little altar. Jason, smiling, happy at some point back in time, that was never supposed to go back. She took the photo at one of their walks in the park in the autumn, with the sun shining and colourful leaves falling down from the trees. “but things have changed…” Y/N whispered, caressing Jason’s cheek on the photo, her eyes still shining with love and affection, but also tinged with sadness. “I miss him…”

“I know, Y/N. I miss that little prick too.”

“Yeah, he was a prick, wasn’t he? And an asshole, sometimes.” She chuckles as Dick sat on the floor next to her. “I bet if he’s around he’s annoyed at us bad-mouthing him.”

“If he’s around?”

“Yeah, the whole point of this day is that the souls come back to earth to visit us.”

“so it’s basically something like Halloween.”

“ more or less so. But cut the haunting part.” She smiled a little “We can’t see the deceased but we can feel them…”

“do you?”

“do I what?” Y/N frowned at his question. “Do I feel him?”

“Yeah. Sorry if it’s too soon or too bold thing to say, Y/N…”

“It’s not. It’s okay. I can’t exactly feel him, but it doesn’t mean he’s not here. We both agreed he was a prick sometimes, maybe he’s just hiding from me. Just to tease me. But that won’t stop me from calling upon him even from beyond the grave.”

She stood up and put the picture at the top stairs.

“Hey Todd, if you’re somewhere there, I’m not gonna go easy on you. See you next year, you little asshole.”

YEAR TWO

“Hey, Y/N, I dropped by decorating store and bought some things for your ofrenda this year, wanna take a look at them?”

YEAR THREE

You know, Dick, I’m not sure if Jason would appreciate us using the cape here….

“Your limiting my imagination….”

“I don’t care. I’m in charge. Remove it, now”

YEAR FOUR

Did you make the ofrenda without me, Grayson!?

YEAR FIVE

No way in hell she was going to let Dick take charge this year. For the past four of them he was growing more and more fond of the day of the dead, starting from assisting and doing shopping ending on going behind her back in finalising his own crazy concept. And finally, the tide had changed and Y/N had to put her foot down.

“What do you mean you want me to leave?!” Dick cried out the second she told him what punishment she chose for him “Y/N! Why?! It’s so unfair, I – “

“You hijacked my preparations last year. And two years ago. And to tell the truth, three years ago as well!”

“I didn’t – ok, fine…” he raised his hands in surrender “but you can’t blame me for that! It’s really fu-“ he stopped in the middle of the sentence.

“You wanted to say funny, didn’t you?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and Dick blushed a little. Maybe it was a bit inappropriate and unfortunate word to use.

“NO! No I wanted to say… um…” Dick was desperately searching for more accurate wording, also starting with fu, but obviously the alternatives were even worse.

“See that’s the whole point. You kind of missing the message of the day. Yes, sure, it’s supposed to be fun way to honour the dead and tame death in some way, but still it’s also supposed to be at least a little bit of an opportunity to stop for a second and think about things and people. I really appreciate your positive attitude and it’s not like I’m kicking you out, but...”

“but you do.” Dick smirked and nodded with understanding.

“I just feel like I need to be alone for a while, ok? It’s been five years and at his point I feel like I sometimes need to focus to even remember his face without a photo. It’s all becoming a blur, lost in the joy and amusement. And I don’t want that. I want to remember.”

“Is that why you never gave any boy any chance to –“ he cut out again without really thinking what he was saying.

“Grayson… “ she trailed warningly.

“I’m out! I’m out! Don’t hit me!” he rushed towards the exit. “Just call me when it will be safe to come back, ok?”

“Got it. Now get out!” she chuckled, closing and locking the door behind her friend.

Every little word she said was true.

She wanted to remember.

She had to remember.

It was the only way to fill that little dent in her heart, that Jason left when he died. She couldn’t just let go of him, even though Dick was probably right, and after so many years she should have moved on. But both her heart and her soul refused to do so.

Maybe you only get one chance to meet your soulmate and Y/N was close to sure that Jason has been hers.

”It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" she whispered the quote to herself while reaching for Jason’s photo she chose for this year’s decoration, turning them over in her hands for a while, looking at the face of a 15 year old she used to know “I wonder what you would look like now. Bet you’d be even more handsome and all the girls would be jealous I got such a catch.” She laughed a little “Hope you don’t hear me now, cause god damn, that would be such an ego booster for you.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” The sudden male voice coming from behind her made her jump (almost the mirror situation to the one that occurred five years ago when Dick found her preparing the ofrenda). But this time it was not Dick standing in her apartment.

“What the actual fuck!?” she yelled taking a fighting stance she learned from Grayson, knowing it would not help her at all due to the shaking of her body at the view in front of her.

“Handsome, huh?” Jason Todd in the flesh, absolutely not dead, brushed some unruly hair from his forehead, looking at her with a playful expression

“¡Estas muerto! ¡Eres un fantasma! ¡¿Qué está pasando?! Cómo –?“ as usual when she got nervous she started using Spanish. (you’re dead! You’re a ghost! What’s going on?! How-?)

“Baby…” Jason took a step forward, hesitantly. “Baby…” he opened his arms “I;m not dead, I swear to you. I-“

She cut him off by diving into his embrace, holding him tightly, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t just a friction of her imagination and needing to feel his warmth, the beating of his heart and his breathing.

“You’re really here!” she cried out, tears falling down her cheeks like a waterfall when she nuzzled into his chest. Honestly, she didn’t need any explanation, at least not at this point. She only wanted him close, afraid that if she let go for as much as a second he would disappear again. “Swear to me this is not a dream…” she muttered, against his shirt. “Swear to me.” Her entire body shook from the shock, she felt so small in his arms, but also safe as never before. It was like after five long years she got home again, that this missing part of her heart was found, and immediately jumped into the place reserved solely for him, unrepleacable. She was whole again and that was what count.

“Baby…. Oh, my sweet girl…” Jason wrapped his arms around her, caressing her back and hair, pulling her even closer, wanting to comfort her, to give her all that love and peace she was deprived of for what felt like ages. “I’m really here. I’m here. My baby… I’m back to you.” He whispered, closing his eyes, feeling equally, if not more emotional than her. He’s been through hell but the only though that made him keep on going was her. His angel. His joy. His only source of light in the eternal darkness that seemed to surround and swallow him. His grip on her tightened and he hoped to convey all these unspoken words to her through hugs and caresses and the gentle brushing of his lips against her temples.

“I love you…” she sobbed desperately, blurting out the only thing that was on her mind at the moment. “I missed you and I love you and –“

“I know baby. I love you too. And I promise you, you’ll never have to worry about hanging my picture in your altar ever again. Ever. I’ll crawl back to you every time and not even death can stop me from being with you. ”

And they just stood there, next to something that was supposed be an tribute to not-so-dead Jason Todd, holding and hugging each other tightly, creating the little bubble only for them two and being so very happy cutting out the entire world and reality, lost in daydream that happened to be the upcoming future for two people that have loved, have lost, and luckily, have found a way back to each other.

Talking could wait.

Silence, in the company of the only person that mattered, came first.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood angst #red hood fluff #dick grayson x reader

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zombiigrll · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a Carl x male reader set after 7x1 where reader comforts Carl about what happened and maybe they plan to infiltrate the sanctuary together and when Negan insults Carl, reader comforts him again after he's left alexandria?

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

TO THE MOON AND BACK. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x male!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 3.7K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst + fluff, spoilers for the walking dead 7x1-7x7, swearing, kissing, gore, flashbacks, use of y/n! .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ after the lineup, you and carl were determined to get back at negan. so, you decided to make a trip to the sanctuary together. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you for the request anon! and im so sorry i know i definetly changed some things about this prompt </3 i was having a difficult time with how to write the exact prompt. i hope you still like it! (EDIT) oh my god. im SO SORRY. i didn't read that you specifically requested a male reader </3 i went through and tried to get all of the things i put fem pronouns and stuff on changed i'm sorry if some of it is still wrong!! this is so embarassing help me...

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────────────────────────

you and carl both had the same determination of getting rid of negan after the lineup happened. negan had killed two of your friends, two people who had saved you a numerous amount of times.

and negan had also mutilated your face. not on purpose, but you just so happened to be a little too close to abraham when he was being murdered, resulting in your cheek getting torn open.

but, of course, nobody was fond of the idea of two teenagers going out to kill some guy who's murdered hundreds of people himself.

so you'd have to make a plan that no one else would know of.

you met up late at night in carls room while everyone else was deep in sleep.

"so, how're we going to do this?" you had brought a notebook and pencil to his house in case you needed to write the plan down.

"the saviors are going to come to our place weekly, right? that includes going to hilltop." he draws down some sort of map on the paper, labeling things as he explains. "if we plan this right, we could head to the hilltop around the same time the moving trucks are there. we can sneak into the back of one of the vehicles."

you nod as he explains, biting your bottom lip nervously. "and what if we don't get there at the right time?"

"we can ask the people at hilltop when the last time the saviors came was. if it was a week ago, we can wait around. if it was recently, we plan for the future."

you nod again, this time more confidently. "alright."

"are you okay with this?" carl notices your uncomfortable and nervous appearance, putting a comforting hand on your knee. "if you want, i can go by myself-"

"no. i'm going with." you cut him off swiftly. "i'm not letting you do this by yourself. i want to help you."

"...alright." he smiles softly at you. "we're gonna do this together, then. like we always have."

...

its safe to say you didn't get much sleep that night, even sleeping with carl. you kept tossing and turning thinking of all the possible things that could happen.

and by the time carl went to wake you up, you were already up.

"y/n.." he softly spoke, tapping your shoulder before realizing your eyes are already open. "you're already awake?"

"mm.." you nodded before turning your body to face him properly. "i'm nervous."

he brings up a hand to move a strand of hair behind your ear. "i know. i am too. it'll be okay."

you lean your face into his palm while you put your hand over his. "when are we leaving?"

"soon. i already have our bags packed, we just have to get changed." he smiles down comfortingly at you.

you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and stretching, walking over to your wardrobe to grab some clothes.

"you sure you still want to do this?" carl questions, standing up shortly after to get ready.

"i'm sure. and even if i wasnt, i'm not gonna let you do this by yourself."

he shoots you a quick smile before grabbing his clothes and changing.

the two of you finished getting changed, and now it was just a matter of getting out of alexandria unnoticed. a couple people were out on runs to get stuff for negan, so you guys had a good chance of getting out no trouble.

carl held your hand as he guided you to the front gates, helping you up and down the gate to make sure you didn't fall.

you guys successfully got past the gate unnoticed, dropping down with a slight 'hmph' sound as your feet hit the ground.

there was a car right outside of alexandria. did you or carl really know how to drive?

no.

but, that didn't stop you guys. you knew the basics, and it was the fastest possible way to hilltop in time.

carl looked at you, then back at the car, walking over to it swiftly. you followed quickly behind him and stepped into the passengers seat.

he started up the car and started driving.

"i think this is how we're going to die." you joked, putting your seatbelt on and holding onto the grab handle.

carl laughs with a nod. "we'll be fine."

...

that went wrong, fast.

well, you guys did end up being fine. but apparently all of these years of carl seeing walkers, it was a shock to see one while he was driving a car.

did he run into it on purpose to try and impress you? or was it genuinely an accident?

"holy shit, carl!" you yelled, gripping harder than before on the grab handle and pulling your seatbelt tighter in fear as he slams onto the breaks.

"fuck, sorry. sorry." he spoke breathily, setting the car into park. "...sorry."

you let go of the handle and unbuckled yourself, letting out a deep sigh. "it's... it's fine. do you know where we are right now at least?"

"mhm. hilltop should be right over there." he points in the direction of hilltop as he unbuckles as well, stepping out of the car.

you gather your things out of the car and begin walking with carl following behind you.

the two of you were walking for a bit, your legs getting more and more tired and your guys' moods plummeted after losing the car. but suddenly, you hear carl call out.

"hey, y/n."

"what?" you turn around and tilt your head at him, walking closer to him to see what he's found.

two sets of rollerskates.

"oh, are you kidding?!" you exclaimed with a bright smile, kneeling down next to him. "i haven't been on rollerskates since, like, my 6th birthday!"

he pulls out both of the pairs, handing you one. "i hope this makes up for my shitty driving?"

"absolutely."

...

the rest of the journey to hilltop was honestly... fun.

you and carl were hand-in-hand on rollerskates, skating like you were deers on ice.

"woah, slow down! you're pulling me!" carl laughed, accidentally sliding in front of you.

"oh, come on. just go faster then!" you chuckled, moving him back to your side.

as he turns to face forward again, he stops. "we're here. i think the saviors are here too." he whispers, pointing at one of the trucks by the entrance.

you silently nod as he moves you guys behind a tree. you quickly take off your skates and set them into the grass before putting your regular shoes on.

"are you ready?" carl asks lowly, interlocking your fingers together.

"mhm." you look up at him nervously, your anxiety showing through your interlocked hand shaking.

"hey.." he brings up his free hand up to your cheek. "we're gonna be okay. nothing is going to happen to you, not while i'm with you."

you smile up at him, quickly glancing at his lips before looking back into his eyes. carl lets out a quick chuckle before kissing you lightly.

as he breaks away from the kiss, he smiles at you again. "let's go."

...

an hour had passed.

an entire hour of sitting in the back of a moving truck, staying as silent as possible as you held a pistol in your hand. you took deep breaths with your eyes closed and head leaning back onto the walls of the truck.

and you were quickly taken out of your daze at the feeling of the car breaking and the sound of the car parking.

you gave carl a surprised and nervous look before looking back toward the entrance of the back, noticing a man opening it up and looking at the loot.

carl quickly pointed his gun up, firing at the men. you followed after by standing up alongside him and pointing your not-so-intimidating pistol up, helping shoot more of the saviors away.

carl pushes a bit past you and points his gun. "stay back! drop your weapons."

you step forward to his side, pointing your pistol towards the saviors out of carls view.

"we only want negan." he continued, his gaze fixated all around the yard. "he killed my friends. no one else needs to die."

right after carl announced that, a familiar whistling was heard, catching both of your guys' attention instantly.

"damn." negan laughs, staring at the two of you with a smirk plastered along his face. "romeo and.. romeo? isn't that adorable." his gaze fixates onto carl, and he points at the giant gun in his hands that was aimed right towards him. "did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? you totally did, right?"

negan sets lucille in front of him, leaning onto her as he looks at both of you with a squint. "y'know, i'm gonna be honest, you kids scare the shit outta me."

just as you were about to open your mouth to say something to him, a man runs into carl to pin him down, which also in result pushed you over.

"carl!" you yelled, attempting to get up. but before you could, you saw a couple saviors pointing their guns toward you.

"back off!" negan yells, holding his hand up toward the cluster of saviors and dwight. "dwight. is that any way to treat our new guests?"

that sentence mad your heart drop. when you noticed the guns being set down, you got up and quickly moved over to help carl.

"are you okay?" you asked carl, practically in a whisper as you helped him up. he nods and readjusts his hat, glaring back up at negan, which you joined in on.

this only made negan grin wider.

"well, come on, kids! let me show you around."

...

negan had given you and carl the tour. it wasn't pretty.

he made the sanctuary seem like some amazing, beautiful place, but all you saw was misery.

carl raised an eyebrow at negan as you three entered a room that had a large bed and two chairs facing each other. "are all of those women actually your--"

"wives? yeah." negan cut off. "always wanted to screw a whole bunch of women. i mean, why settle for just one? a bit.. different in your case, but my point still stands." negan jokingly points a finger at you, which you responded in a silent death-stare. "why follow the same old rules? why not make life better?"

negan steps over to one of the chairs and sits, signaling for carl to come over. "speaking of.. sit."

carl instantly nods and walks over, leaving you standing by the doorframe. you look at negan confused.

"you can go sit on the bed." negan grins at you and points to the edge of the bed. you comply and sit down, looking at whats happening with negan and carls interaction. "now.. let's get started."

"started on what?" carl asks, crossing his arms and glaring up at negan.

"i want to get to know you a little better, carl. you and him."

"why?"

"work it out. you're smart." he glares almost mockingly back at carl as he speaks. "in fact, i'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know."

negan continues going on his speech, looking at you and carl as he speaks. "see, i'd expect kids your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the prom. but you two? you go on a mission. you find me, kill four of my men together, and you're smart enough to know i'm not gonna let this slide."

as negan chuckles, you begin feeling your body shaking, memories of the lineup rolling back through your mind.

"ah, i can't.. i can't do it." negan speaks through his laughs. "it's like talking to a birthday present. you got to take that crap off your face. i wanna see what grandma got me."

you start to stand up to face negan properly. "he doesn't have to do shit-"

"four men!" he yells, standing up to look down at you. "four. men. you really want to piss me off, girl? 'cause i can make you take yours off, too. so i can see what lucille did to you when she was bashing your good friend abrahams head in-"

"fine." carl cuts negan off, his voice raised but slightly shaking. you look over at him with a saddened look, pressing your lip in between your teeth. carl sighs and begins taking the bandage off, and negan waves you away to go sit back down on the bed.

negan laughs ecstatically as he sits back down, watching carl take his bandage off. "almost there..."

carl sets the bandage down next to him, looking down at his hands.

"get that hair out of your face. let me see."

carl moves his hair behind his ear and faces negan, which only makes him laugh harder.

"christ! that is disgusting!" negan mocks, which makes you feel your stomach drop in anger and sympathy for carl. "no wonder you cover that up. have you seen it? i mean, have you looked in a mirror? that is gross as hell. i can see your socket." negan continues to laugh, but then he notices carl crying.

"carl.." you whisper. all you wanted right now was to go over there and help him, but you couldn't. you already pissed off negan, if you did something else who knows what he'd do to you or carl?

"...damn. look, i just.." negans voice softens into a more sympathetic tone, which surprised you. "it's easy to forget that you're.. just a kid."

carl looks away from negan and wipes away his tears, but without realizing, he turned away to face you instead. you saw his tears and his eye, which he always hid from you since the day it happened. his eyebrows raised when he realized who he was looking at, and he quickly turned back away.

"i didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. i.." he sighs. "i was just screwing around."

before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock at the door, which made you and carl flinch.

"come in."

a man came in holding lucille very carefully, looking nervous. he explained that negan had left lucille down by the trucks.

"seriously? i never do that." negan laughs, standing up to grab his bat. "i guess two teens firing at my men is a bit of a distraction."

the savior quickly leaves and just as he shuts the door, negan sits back down and continues. "all jokes aside, you look rad as hell. i wouldn't cover that shit up. and, i mean, apparently it's a hit with the ladies." he points to you with a smirk. "but i swear to you, no one is going to screw with you looking like that."

negans expression quickly changes to one of curiosity. "what do you like to do for fun? you like music?" carl squints his eyes at negan confused. "i want you to sing me a song."

"...what?" carl raises his eyebrow, his body language softening.

"yeah. you two mowed down four of my men, i want something in return for that. sing me a song."

carl blinks rapidly in thought, confused and slightly scared. "i.. i can't think of any-"

"bullshit!" negan yells, standing up with lucille in hand, leaning down to carl. "what'd your mom sing to you? what'd your dad play in the car? start singing."

"okay, okay." carl sighs, looking over at you for comfort. "...okay."

carl looks down at his lap, messing with his fingers. negan walks over to the bed with lucille, listening to carl singing.

"you make me happy when skies are grey-"

carl is quickly interrupted when negan swings his bat right onto the bed, right next to your side. you flinch, staring at the fresh rips on the mattress and then back at negan, eyes widened and your chest moving up and down from your rapid breaths.

"do not let me distract you, young man." negan glances at carl, then back at you. "and you, don't flinch."

how the fuck were you supposed to not flinch? your life was in danger, your mind racing to that night. this was basically how you got your cheek mutilated in the first place, too.

carl continued singing, and negan continued swinging near you. you tried your best not to flinch, but instead of flinching, you were crying and hyperventilating. your heart felt like it was pounding and your brain felt like it was exploding.

and after what felt like a million years, it was over.

"that's pretty good." negan said after his final swing, pulling up lucille and walking over to carl. "lucille loves being sung to. it's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. weird, huh?"

you began spacing out, tears rolling down your silent face as you had horrific flashbacks to that night.

. flashback .

once negan had landed his bat right in front of abraham, your heart sank. he was sitting right besides you, and now you were forced to watch and experience his brutal death.

negan took his first swing right to the middle of abrahams skull.

"woo! takin' it like a champ." negan spoke, laughing at abraham as he sat there still, glaring into negans eyes.

"suck. my. nuts." abraham spoke his final words, which only uttered more laughs out of negan.

and negan took another swing, but this time, you flinched harder. and you got closer. and you felt a harsh pain shoot through the side of your face, and something crimson dripping down onto your lap. you brought your hand up with wide eyes, looking at the blood drenching your palms, then back up at everyone. your eyes wandered over to carl, who was staring at you with wide eyes as well.

he couldn't do anything, you couldn't do anything, and abraham was still being murdered at your side.

all you could do was cry, watching abraham while your vision was fogged up by your tears.

"..y/n?" carl shook you by your shoulders, getting you out of your daze.

right. you were still at the sanctuary.

"negan is trying to.. show us something." carl told you, nodding his head in the direction of negan, who was standing by the doorframe.

all you did was blankly nod, standing up from the bed.

"are we ready?" negan laughed, making a signal with his hands for the two of you to hurry up.

you quickly walked over to negan with carl by your side and negan began taking you to the railing, looking down at a man sitting down near a furnace with a crowd around him.

...

you barely remember what had happened for the rest of your time at sanctuary. you're sure you blocked most of it out.

you could vaguely remember negan showing you and carl a man getting the side of his face ironed off, and negan making you hold lucille as they did so.

and when you got back to alexandria with negan, carl had made you stay in his room until everything was over. you begged him to let you stay with him, that you were scared you were going to lose him, but he wouldn't budge. in the end, he locked you in his room.

"fuck, carl! please.." you cried trying to catch up with him.

"sorry. i love you." he said before closing the door.

you stayed laying in his bed, crying yourself to sleep.

you felt as if you were being dramatic. i mean, carl was facing more of the repercussions than you were. you were worried about him. his recklessness scared you, even if you were reckless yourself. he'd do anything for you, including spending the rest of the day with negan while you laid in bed despite everything negan had done that day and in general.

and the day passed. negan had left, and carl came back into his room.

you were still awake, back on the mattress as you stared at his ceiling. but as you heard the door open, you shot up. you quickly stepped off of the bed and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. your head was on his chest and one of your hands laid on the back of his head, the other around his neck. he quickly returned the hug.

"i'm sorry." he whispered into the crook of your neck.

you took your head off of his chest and up to look him in the eye, bringing your hands up to hold his face. "don't be sorry." you said with a half smile.

when you looked up to face him, he moved his face away. specifically, to the side where you couldn't see his eye.

"hey.." you readjusted your hand to move his face back to you. "don't look away."

"but, my eye-"

"what about it?" you laughed, pinching your eyebrows together.

"you haven't seen it since today. i, uh.. didn't think you'd want to see me like this."

"are you kidding?" you tilted your head, laying your arms to drape over his shoulders as you looked at him lovingly.

carl opens his mouth, as if he was about to say something to retort your comment, but before he could, you leaned in to kiss him. you brought one of your hands up again to hold his face as you leaned into the kiss. as you moved away, you smiled warmly at him.

"i love you.. to the moon and back." you laughed, tears in your eyes as you admired the boy in front of you.

carl laughed with you, hands on your waist as he smiled down at you. "i love you too." he brings up his hand to run his fingers through your hair as he speaks. "but.. how're you doing?"

"i'm.. i'm okay." you nodded reassuringly. "i'm better now that you're back here with me."

"are you, uh.. mad that the plan didn't work out?"

"it might not have worked out the way we wanted it to, but now we know the layout of the sanctuary and where it is." you reminded him. "it worked out, just differently. we'll figure all of this out again. together. right?"

carl nods, his smile returning to his face with a nod. "...yeah. together, like we always have."

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#🌙 — maxines fics #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes oneshot #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead x reader

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deadboyfriendd · 1 month ago

Text

I Hope This Letter Finds You Well.

Summary: It is already so hot that it burns. The sheriff had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn't decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heatstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this.

A culmination of letters shared between family and new friends turns into a stand-off at the tarmac of Tucson, Arizona.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sheriff/Wyatt Earp!Steve Harrington x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, death of a spouse, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, feminine rage embodied (I couldn't give her a gun this time because, if I did, everyone would be dead), eventual discussion of The Civil War and the politics that came from it.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: This is it. Bisbee is here and it feels like I'm breathing life back into my cowboys through my sheriff. This is so, so special to me and @dr-aculaaa, and I cannot wait to tell you all their stories.

Find the series masterlist here!

“When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.” Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Nellie,

I believe that the face of death is a woman, and that she is beautiful.

I believe that she may have loved my betrothed, at least as long as there was breath in his lungs and a thrum in his chest. I believe that William looked into her dark eyes and followed her into that unknown place, and I know, there, he might finally find something to still his mind.

I believe that she kissed him good and hard, Nellie, in a way that I could not have done– that she danced her spindly dance clear across the desert, through the plains of the midlands, and splashed in the bayou of Louisiana until she found him.

I believe that death is a friend to our family, that her sinewy arms loom over our men in an embrace that we can not provide, and I believe that she is warm. Much warmer than you or I have been created to be. I believe she walks alongside us, whispers into the ear of our husbands, and laughs as they dance their troublesome dances.

I believe she is kind, much kinder than us, for why else would our men leave the safety of us for her? I cannot fathom it, Nellie.

I no longer believe that death is cold and harsh, for I know that no man could be as cruel as she.

We were always cut from the same cloth, in life, and now in death.

Signed, your cousin.

He could have said that he never wanted any trouble, and he could have said he didn’t go around picking fights, yet both seemed to find him with speed and vigor. He sought them out, begged for the metallic heat to seep from behind his teeth and drip down his lips like ambrosia. The boy could not read nor write, yet also harbored a taste for mindless violence– his gangly teenage frame a harbinger of death.

The monsoon was fast approaching, dark clouds filling the sky in an apocalyptic haze, though the Lord knew this land needed it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, droplets weighing deep against the flesh and warm in strides. The powder dust beneath it stirred and settled in waves, and he prayed for no wind, for the wall of dust that would overtake them in the future just might suffocate him. He cried out in thirst, having mistaken this anguish for freedom. All he could do was turn his mouth towards the sky and hope it would wash away the rawness in his throat.

This heaviness did not go away with time nor age. The boy-now-man sifted through the powder silt of the remnants of his life the same way he sifted through these crises as a child, though with more sure steps and a heavier hand for subtlety. He no longer craved ambrose violence gilded in the candied sheen of shed blood, though it did not stop searching for him.

He was out with lanterns, in search of himself.

There used to be nothing here but a broad expanse of mirage, the heat rising from the sand and warping the distance into a false lake like a sick joke. He remembered the settlement. The miners came first, then the saloons, and dance halls. The cattle drovers and thieves would follow suit to reap their fortunes, but the plume of the mines came first.

Still there is hope, an old miner had said to him, for I know of two Bibles in town.

Though men of God and men of war both have strange affinities, it would seem.

War, much like God, was here long before man. It crouched its ugly pose and waited for his arrival. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate practitioner.

Today, the oak planks, rotted from years in the sun, groan in the same anguish beneath his boots and he ignores it as much as the God he prayed to ignored his own cries. The bright orange of globe mallow presses its way between the planks, soft resilience even in this heat. When he reaches down to touch it, it crumbles between hardened finger pads.

This township felt like a tunnel, a vignette blurring the Gaussian edges of its structures that settled like graves. His boots sunk a lowly sulk through the banks of the roads where wagon wheels had pushed them from their packing. He still felt the nothingness here, vast openness in which he awaited a tomahawk crowning, sinking into the same sand on his knees, candy-coated in that gilded red gloss.

Through the nothingness there was a stirring, his eyes fixated on the microburst brewing along the mountain's edge in the distance.

Thunder fades to wheels along tracks.

You’d watched the land turn from green to brown and back again. You’d watch the sun wick the water from the soil and feel it warm your skin. There’s a certain disdain that fills your chest like liquid when you picture Nellie on this trail. There was no train west to take. There was no railway.

Did Nellie still look like her mother? Had her mouth begun to crease with a perpetual smile? Was her hair still long and did she still let it fall in ringlets down her back? Surely, she had not sounded the same in her letters, though, this sullen stranger had still signed the letters with the same swooping motions.

As the trees became sparse and turned into gangly, reaching boojums, you realized just how far from home you had been. You had never left the great state of Louisiana but, had run those riverbeds and marshes ragged with bare feet, had run heels hard against the hollow tomb of that old paddle boat. Could you be as wild as the West? Would it love you in the same way the marshes had? Wrap you in its mossy embrace and let you sink beneath stagnant water in wait?

But for what?

The sharecropping had been a logical by-product of everything your father had fought for in the war, rock salt and nails and hand over first for years under the lead of General Benjamin F. Butler, though no one could foresee the way the plantation had hemorrhaged money after he took on nearly ten hired men, or the way the land had would have dwindled to nothing had you not taken that ghastly, ugly burden against your back, one heavy enough to spur you west. One heavy enough that even the sting of the sunburn did nothing to quell the ache that you still felt in your chest against it.

You watched the life drain from this land, music and the lush green of the coming summer turning to sweltering, daguerreotype daydreams. You pressed your palm against the glass and sighed.

It was already warm enough to burn.

When you pressed your face against the glass, you could feel the rumble of the hardened earth beneath the sodden tracks. The dried parchment of letters scraped against themselves where they pooled in the makeshift reservoir of your dresses ruched into your lap– just high enough so that your ankles could feel any movement within the waning stagnation of air in the train car.

You tore the one on top open with your thumb– the last one to remain unopened. Its straight edge was too sharp and angled perfectly as you pulled at it, the edge of your thumb already pooling cherry beads of blood where it rippled.

“Shit.” you cursed.

Gilded eyes peered towards you, slicing through the silence of this welling heat like ice. Had it been dark, they would have glowed. Ladies in Parisian hats tailing the woeful gazes of their well-tailored merchant husbands turning towards the spectacle that was you. Young. Unmarried. Unaccompanied and profane in your lack of grace aboard the train to the lawless lands. Maybe, by God’s hand, you had been cut from the same cloth as this lawless place– the rumble of the tracks a song to the listlessness that stirred in your chest like silt in distant waters.

You dismissed the judgment, the venom of it all sliding off of you like that same water against a duck’s back, turning your attention back towards the product of your own disdain: Nellie’s letter, signed, sealed, and delivered to your last known location.

Cousin,

Your father has sent word about your arrival in Tucson, and I will meet you at the train depot in due time. I do hope that, in time, the heat of this land may dry your tears in the same way it has mine.

I fear that you may not recognize me upon your arrival to Tucson, my face has grown harder and my body less soft. You will become this way, too. I am tough. I am afraid this place has weathered me like old leather.

I have asked the sheriff to accompany me to the train depot in Tucson, and he has happily obliged. I didn’t think you would mind much, either.

The sheriff is a nice man, as I am sure you have come to find, however, this land has hardened him in the same way it has hardened Edward and I. In the same way, it took Wilhelm as payment for some grander, more horrendous scheme. I do not ask you to excuse his shortcomings– or mine– but I do ask that you try to understand us.

Though it is better now than it has ever been, this place is still not like Louisiana. This land is lawless. This land is tough. This land does not make promises or send prayers. It exists as it is, rough and unbinding– blistering for all it is worth.

We are the law, here.

If we lose our morality, we lose everything.

I will see you soon. I love you.

Nellie.

It was an unspoken truth that there was something broken much deeper within them that they had shared some form of solidarity within. Somehow, in some way, Nellie and Steve had shared something they never wanted you to see, but, even now, something was different about her in more recent letters that you couldn’t quite differentiate.

Perhaps it was the way she told you she loved you. She hadn’t written those three words since writing of Wilhelm’s death. Maybe she said it then in search of the love she had lost, had looked for shreds of it to mend herself back together. Maybe Edward had done that for her, and maybe now she had some left to give. You hoped that much for her.

Edward was an entity unknown to you– a phantom in his own respects. He reaped his own form of morosity in the way he loved Nellie. He did so in a way that was devouring, in a way that encompassed her in every respect. You had been well past the persuasion of beautiful faces, for a face much like his was the face that launched a thousand ships. Another puppet wielded by The Devil, he was. That holy shape becomes a devil, best.

It was an unholy thing, to resurrect the dead. And, you supposed, Edward had done just that. Nellie’s letters came to an abrupt halt after the announcement of the Death of Wilhelm. Your family, the only remaining kinship to her lineage, had not received a letter from her in over a year.

You’d thought of all of the ways she could have died, but the most plausible cause was a broken heart. Even now, as rolling hills turned to planes and back again, as you watched the horrors that this land reaped, you could not see any of them taking your cousin. No, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even this land could break her will. No, if she were to die here, now, it would have been by her hand.

And then, by some unforsaken force beyond even your father’s control, Nellie breathed once more. Her letters were flowery, her writing curling into crashing waves of stories told. You watched as this solemn stranger breathed life back into Nellie, something as cruel and unusual as beauty in this place unseen and unheard of for years, beauty unseen to Nellie since Wilhem was killed.

You knew of only unholy things that fed upon the dead– that breathed an ugly, hot breath back into their lungs and pulled them from the sodden earth in which they lay. Edward was not entirely truthful, that much you could tell.

You supposed you and Edward had shared that sentiment, in some way.

The Whispering Sands was still not the ritzy bar. That was still located in the lobby of The Grand Hotel, just footsteps from where The Sheriff stood now, planks still singing their groaning songs of protest beneath his legs, still stiff with sleep or nerves or years of failed prayer.

His footfall fell heavy against the hollow floors, the weight of him reverberating against the early hum of the bar. The dealer was still as straight as a Christmastime wreath, though, now, he knew that this one could at least shoot in the right direction. You no longer needed to carry when you walked through, your spare now confined to below the counter out of sheer caution and the guiding hands of ghosts alone. The doors didn’t hang crooked anymore, the dealer making fast work of fixing all of the things Nellie had pushed to the back burner in relentless disembowelment of her own self-preservation that she so readily gave to him in the form of softened twine and spoken promises tightened around ring fingers.

The Sheriff would not be so easy. His self-preservation ran deeper than that.

Nellie knew it, knew that his roots were wrapped around something vital within him, something deeper than hers– something from a time before her, before this town, and before the West was wild.

The echo of him reverberated off of the walls of the bar, bounced off of the piano, and rattled the windows. It demanded her attention long before the brass bell of the front door rang and the heavy oak clattered against the frame.

8:50. Like clockwork.

In the times before, just after Wilhelm, he would stop in and buy a cigar, though, to this day, she had never seen him smoke. She never inquired it, and he never inquired her.

There was a solidarity in their grief, and it never quite, even now that she felt happy more times than not. She had a sneaking suspicion he was there for something other than a cigar every morning, but she pulled one from the humidor and took his money anyway. There had been a time where she insisted it was on the house. It wasn’t worth the fight, now.

He looked different today. Still sullen is his strange, tortured way, but there was almost something beautiful about it, about the way he ruminated in this state of torture. Even in the way his stagnation had turned into just that with time, something seemed to still sit there in wait, leaden in the pit of his chest.

He looked like the face of a handbill like this, enveloped in all black. Square-toed boots with black trousers that made him look ganglier than he was, made him loom over Nellie more than he already did. His black frock coat dusted his calves at a three-quarter length, and a black bolo tie covered as much of the stark white high-collar as possible. On the hat rack by the door sat his usual wide-brimmed Stetson, and, from just behind the plain silver of his belt buckle, the Colt Burtline Special shone in the light.

He looked fit for a funeral.

He walked like he beckoned the apocalypse in clouds of rolling thunder behind him. When his heels pressed into the softened sand, the earth quaked beneath it. The weight of him made the stagecoach groan on its hinges– leaden and heavy with the weight of something bigger than settled silt within his chest, kicked up like the sand behind horse hooves and stagecoach wheels.

Parchment sat like lead in his lap, curdling there and souring something that had sat too long. Cracking fingers curled around your words like poison, sweetened with sasparilla whiskey, golden ambergris letters seeping into him and warming his throat like bile and molten gold. He opened the first one with a nimbleness unlike one he had ever known, and read it once more:

25 April, 1894

To the Sheriff that this letter finds,

I am afraid your letter has found me in a state of disrepair. I have never been one for niceties and I am afraid I do not have it in me to start now.

My betrothed had never known peace in life, and I am afraid that he may not ever know it in death, wherever that plane Hell may be.

Maybe it is I that has died, and maybe it is I that walks across this Hell. Maybe it is my own doing that brought me to this. Maybe I am the creature of my own undoing. I am not a nice girl, Steve. Not the nice girl you think I might be.

We were raised like leather, stretched and scraped to be tough in the way that our mothers were, unbending and unbreaking as they had been. They were not forgiving, nor were they kind. Nellie was once that way, too. Though, I fear that your desert sun has softened her. That it changed something deeper within her in a way that she may be someone I no longer recognize.

I plan to arrive in Tucson by train on the first of October. Maybe this sun will soften me in the same way it has softened my cousin. Maybe I don’t want it to.

Though I hope for my tomorrow to be kind, I have an inkling that it never will be, for this life had never had a kindness to offer.

I’ll be the one in white.

I will see you then, Sheriff.

He pictures the way you will step off the train, white linens spilling over the threshold of it by some sickened grace of the hand of an unkind God. He both relished in it and could not bear the thought. He thought of linens hiked over knees and rucked up under the fabric of itself, a depiction of the implosion of his world.

He had already lived this, soft hair against soft legs and white linens shed in a dustbowl around shared space and soft, breathlessness passed between lips. He had felt this kind of softness before– had known this tender touch of a woman outside of the mother he never had.

It was the first time he had ever been touched gently.

Even Nellie’s hand seemed gruff as it gripped his shoulders in a grounding movement, his eyes slowing with the movement of reading and dissipating into blankness an indicator that he had gone somewhere that even she would never be allowed to see. It was a look she had known all too well.

“I’m afraid she might not like me much.” He whispered, low enough for Eddie to not be able to hear– or, at least, low enough so he could pretend not to. She knew what he meant by this, another feeling chased after her own reanimated heart.

Nevertheless, she avoided the philosophical nature of it all, answering him with the only thought she had: “I’m afraid she might not like anyone much, Steve.” She starts, and the questioning gaze he gives her urges her to continue.

“It wasn’t easy for her, either, Steve.” She starts with another sigh, now more like the weight was being pressed out of her lungs from the weight that she felt, “Most of the time, it was out right hard.”

“We’ve all had it hard, Nellie. Nothing about this life has been particularly easy.” Steve says back. He didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it was. She knew that, though it didn’t stop that initial sting of his dismissiveness.

“William wasn’t a nice man, no matter how much she loved him.” She tells him, louder this time and too fast. Eddie couldn’t help the the way his eyes are drawn to her from where they are fixed to the periscope of landscape before them, “Forgive her if she isn’t welcoming.”

To the Lady that may find this letter, I hope it finds her well

Tucson still radiates heat at this time of year, the mirage at the end of town makes the expanse of land between here and the mountains feel both endless and right in front of you at the same time. It warps like the heat is melting space and time itself. Nevertheless, the first blooms of orange mallow have begun to open in a patch where the stagecoach stopped.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he was inclined to plock them from the ground and brush the dirt from their roots.

It seems the desert knew you would board the train in New Orleans and set west for us, and wanted to welcome you with its kindest hello. The desert is not kind, but she would make an exception for someone like you, I would suppose.

The wheels screech along the wrought iron of the track as they slow to a halt– and he swears, just for a single, fleeting moment, his heart stops with them. There is a stream of people that step down. Ladies with large hats and square-shouldered men in frock coats not unlike his. He wonders if you will know your face before Nellie does– wonders if he knows who you are just from the curls of your letters.

And then, you were there.

You were unremarkable in every way possible, though, at a closer glance, you had chosen to forego a bustle and corset. Instead, the pliant lines of your body undefined against a white buttoned shirt and a long dark skirt. A plain, flat-brimmed stetson sat against the crown of your head, just enough to obscure your face from his view.

Your cousin is very kind. I like to think that you are kind like her, though, I also hope that you are tough in the same way that she is.

He steps forward, his hands sticky with sweat or the sap of the stems of the orange mallow crushed beneath a pressing grip, he isn’t sure. As he steps on to the tarmac, he remembers his manners– remembers that he isn’t an animal and you are not inherently dangerous, and pulls off his hat, pressing it to his chest as he holds an arm out stiffly towards you without any further introduction.

You see the star against his chest, pressed silver pinned there like a placard on the spectacle of the man before you, and know that this is him– that this is the entity whom has spilled his heart to you over parchment and ink and blood, “Well, now, those are awfully pretty, sheriff.” You say to him, looking down at the crushed orange matter in his hands. They have already begun to wilt.

“I have an affinity for pretty things.”

He flirts shamelessly with you, and something deep within you stirrs. It is not the schoolgirl crush you harbored with William. It isn’t even akin to love, but something worse and something ugly. His letters and flowery words and then his backtracking and condolences meddle into one ugly mass of insult. No, this thing that rose in you was not love, nor was it even a cousin. It was hate. Blinding, furious hate.

“And I have an affinity for men who can make up their minds.” You nod towards him, reaching towards the tarmac for the cracking handle of your green steamer trunk, especially now that the gangly, lean man you presume is Edward reaches for it.

There is a moment in time where everyone freezes. Both Nellie and her husband, as well as the sheriff before you. They are walking a thin line, one akin to the silver thread between life and death. The tension is palpable, and Nellie shatters the thing you cling to for resolve like glass:

“Now you’re being outright childish–”

She sucks in a breath when you snap, the wild dogs that live within your chest writhing and pulling against chains as you release whatever hurt and pain you held in your heart towards her. Everything you had wanted to say, everything you wanted to scream back at her once she had resurrected. You weilded them now as weapons against her.

“You sure are one to talk about childish, Nellie. You ran in the other direction when things got hard, and then you up and died on us.”

“I’m not dead. I was never dead.”

“Well, I have a hard time believing that.”

The Sheriff and the tall man take a step back behind Nellie, shrink away from your thunderous roar as if you might actually bite. The leather of your handle and the steamer dropping from your hand with had resonant patriarchal basso against the tarmac. Time has frozen in place, but people continue to swirl around you in a flurry of haste and posthaste annoyance. Silver tears well against the pink line of her eyes, and you are acutely aware that yours are a mirror image.

Steve had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn’t decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heartstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this– his wife was only ever tender.

He can see the rage drip from your mouth like hot, molten tar, can see the tears well in your eyes like casted silver against the mold of your face– the way a single one cools and leaves a residual streak against the ashen skin of your cheek. You want to love Nellie, in the same way she wanted to love Edward, and in the way he loved his wife. He can see it, that burning want so bad that it becomes hatred. That kind of love whose flame burns blue.

He knows Nellie loves you, too, but also knows how dangerous it is to speak it aloud– lest that vile maiden Death may hear it.

Your eyes stare holes into him, burn against his abdomen from where you fix them. He had heard of women becoming alight with lust born from rage before, but had not though of you to be insane enough to eye him in a familiar way right here on the tarmac. That blue flame affixed to him and warming him from the inside, as well.

“That’s an awfully ugly belt buckle, sheriff.” You speak, finally, breaking the silence and restoring some semblance of order to this congregation.

This place is not forgiving, nor is it kind. I hope that your heart is not faint, and I hope that this place is kinder to you than it has been to us.

With warmest regards,

Steven Harrington

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