#the framing n silhouettes n just the right amount of deep fired

[suffing]

honestly youre one of my favorite artists your style is fuckin awesome

aaasdfgf brooo ,,, i love your art, it has such a cool vibe so that rly means a lot so tysm B')

[king-star]

When the Party’s Over

Warning: Homophobia, transphobia, death, bile, guts, broken limb, crying, pet neglection, driving while slightly tipsy, fire (lmk if i need to add more. This is all around pretty dark and sad, proceed with caution)

Match: Yelena Belova x enby!Reader; Wanda Maximoff x reader

Genre: Angst, Angst, and more Angst

A/N: This is the first chapter in a series. Idk how long it’ll be. the plan is bi weekly updates. im reallyyyyy proud of this one so let’s hope it doesn’t flop. ENJOY!

Word Count: ~3,000

Summary: You have a horrible nightmare, leaving you with anxiety for Yelena. Yelena assures you that everything is fine and leaves on a mission.

Your tongue rubs the roof of your mouth in an attempt to rid itself of the sickly sweet drink you’d been sipping. A hundred intoxicated humans swirl around you. Fabric, skin, and feathers blend together, the orchestra the only thing holding off the headache behind your eyes.

You didn’t want to be here. Sure ballroom charity balls could be fun. If you had your best friends there, you could chat only with them, and dance to your heart's content. Unfortunately for you, everyone you could stand to be around was busy. Leaving you human-shieldless from your mothers many socialite friends.

The “oh my goodness Y/N I haven’t seen you since you were in highschool. How are you?” got old quick. Retelling your life story over and over was a pain especially with your mother gripping your hand making sure you didn’t slip up. Share any information that didn’t quite fit the Y/L/N dynasty image. Mostly she didn’t want you sharing about the love of your life, your girlfriend, your Yelena.

When the two of you first got together you waited nearly 5 months before telling your mother. The first time you dated a girl she had hated it. She tried to act like she was supportive, claiming “I will always love you no matter what.” But in the end she always shielded this fact from the public eye. She was supportive of all the LGBT+ movements from a political standpoint. Never her own child.

You never told Yelena about this. You claimed the reason you didn’t want to share her with your mother was because you wanted your relationship to not have paparazzi after you two. She bought it for a while but you could only keep the love of your life away from the woman who gave you life for so long. It didn’t take a master spy to understand the emotions behind the look your mother gave you when you brought Yelena to dinner. Yelena never brought it up but it was an unspoken understanding. Your mother didn’t accept you no matter how hard she tried to fake it.

Now you just wanted the event to be over so you could go home to Yelena. You flipped your wrist, checking the ridiculously expensive watch you had on.

11:31

She was definitely asleep by now. Yelena never stayed up past 10:30. Frowning, you set down your glass and turned to your mother, waiting for her conversation to end. When she finally stopped speaking she turned to you and cocked an eyebrow,

“Y/N. Are you leaving? so soon?” she pouted but enough years in her home taught you her looks. This was faked sadness.

“Unfortunately yes mother. Lena is probably asleep by now and I have work early. She probably forgot to feed our dog,” you enunciated the words that might clue in your mothers friend on how you and this woman were related. A last “fuck you mother” before you left. She smiled warningly and nodded.

“Well… you must get home to your friend. I will see you soon daughter,” she kissed your hand and you stood there frozen. Of course, she would invalidate your gender and your relationship in one comment. Your nostrils flared and you turned quickly, letting your hand smack your unfinished drink into her lap and treading off quickly.

“Fuck you mother. How someone could be so hateful to their own child I will never understand,” you muttered to yourself. You handed your ticket to the valet and stood with your arms crossed, waiting. You made sure to tip the valet an absurd amount, and drove off quickly. The only thing that would keep you from doing something stupid in retaliation was Yelena’s arms around you.

~

Nearly thirty minutes later you pulled the car into the garage. It shouldn’t have taken you that long to get home but you couldn’t help but drive with the top down for a bit. Anger and maybe a bit of fear had bubbles underneath your skin and you didn’t want to bother Yelena. You stepped out of the car and held your head in your hands. You hadn’t drank that much, but a headache would be inevitable.

Fanny met you at the door. She was obviously excited, tail wagging as she raced back to her food bowl

“ok ok girl. I’ve got you,” you rubbed her head and dumped a scoop of food into her bowl. Loosening your tie you dragged yourself to the bedroom. You smiled as the light poured in and illuminated the silhouette of a sleeping Yelena.

“Deep asleep. I’ll join you in a second,” you pulled the rest of your suit off. Picking up a discarded shirt you put it on, and leaned your head against the mirror.

“That was misery. And mother’s comment. I shouldn’t care about what that bitch thinks or says. But I can't help it,” you let out a sigh and picked up your toothbrush. Maybe someday she will accept you. But at that point would she ever be able to make up for how she treated you?

Ready for bed you slid in beside Yelena, careful not to wake her. Fanny, finished with her food, jumped into bed with you and snuggled up with a lick to your face. You smiled and kissed her head then kissed Yelena.

“night my love. See you in the morning,” your heavy lids drooped and you relaxed, setting a hand on Yelena and falling into dreamland.

~

Your thighs hurt. Fire and smoke burn your throat and eyes. You search for something. What exactly you aren’t sure. Tears stream down your face as anxiety floods your chest. If you don’t find the thing soon your world will be crushed.

A broken door, barely on its hinges, is at your right and you know that’s it. A hard turn and you smack your arm into the frame. You grasp at your wrist as more tears prick your eyes.

“Fuck!” A familiar level of pain flares and you know it’s broken. Your eyes dart around the room, still looking for that unknown thing. A pile of smoking wood sits in front of you and your feet carry you to it. This was it.

You try hard to pull through the heavy, hot wood with your one arm. A cry comes from below, an anxiety flaring familiar cry. You pull harder and uncover and dirty and bloody Yelena.

“LENA!” you shout and help her out. Her hands held her stomach. She smiles sickly and then curls in pain.

“Y/N. You found me. I hoped you would. Quick kiss me. I don’t have long,” Your eyes widen and you move her hands. The sight of her stomach makes you sick. Turning to the side you retch and vile spills from your mouth. You wipe your mouth and shake your head, tears fall hard now.

“Lena no no. You’re fine. We can fix you. Please,” you slide your arm under her and try to pick her up but she screams and goes limp in your arms.

“FUCK Y/N! stop. There's no hope. Please just kiss me. I don’t want to die without that.” you shake your head more and set her down. You refused to accept her death.

“No Yelena you are not going to die here. You can’t die. You are too well trained. a-and… I can't live without you. it’ll be fine,” She tries to raise her head but then it falls and she spasms. Your eyes widen and you do your best to hold her still but your broken wrist shoots in pain.

“No no no NO!” you kiss her over and over. Fear pulses through you and when she relaxes completely you sob. Your head aches from the pressure of your sobs and your broken wrist protests. Maybe hours pass and you sit there with her dead body pressed to your chest, her blood and guts smearing all over you.

Then guilt overtakes the sadness. She asked you for one thing. One single kiss before she died and you didn’t fulfill that. You couldn’t give her everything she deserved in life or even in her final moments.

You wake up shaking and screaming. Yelena is awake next to you, crying and shaking your shoulder violently.

“Please Y/N,” she sobs, snot and tears mix and fall forgotten. You sit up barely able to hold yourself up. She is alive.

“Fuck Yelena what’s wrong?” Your dream haunts you. You search her stomach and her whole body for major wounds. She is obviously unsure what you are doing and grabs your face forcing you to look at her.

“Y-you were shaking and screaming and crying and I didn’t know what was wrong. If you were having a seizure or what.” You shake your head and take deep breaths.

“No, I'm good. Not seizure. R-Really…” your words falter and you stare off, caught up in the memory of the dream. Yelena snaps in front of you and hugs your arm. “Ah sorry. Bad dream. really, really bad dream.” you stare at her head unsure if this was the dream or if Yelena really was alive.

“D-do you want to tell me about it?” Her arms slide under yours and she holds you from the side. You shake your head and lay it on her shoulder. “Ok but if you do tell me. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep again.”

The thought of being asleep again makes you tense up. Yelena feels it and rubs your side softly. She kisses you in every way she knows you like and pets your head.

“I’m not going to sleep. I can’t live through that again. It made me think I was going to be alone. Please don’t leave me Lena. please. I don’t wanna die alone.” She frowns and hugs you tight.

“I’m never going to leave you. I’m here baby. I’m here.” She kisses your jaw softly and you nod. Relaxing again, you wrap your arms around her waist and kiss her shoulders.

“Y-you died. There was a fire and I broke my wrist and it was smokey and you got impaled and you died. You asked me to kiss you and I couldn’t accept the fact you were dying so I didn’t kiss you. I couldn’t give you what you deserve.” She frowns and kisses you.

“No Y/N. Don’t you dare. It was just a nightmare, that’s all. I’m NEVER leaving you. ok?” She holds your face and kisses you softly. The kiss lasts a while and you melt into your touch. Fears still paralyse you every couple hours but she holds you until the sun comes up. She knows exactly what you love and how to make you feel safe. She really wasn’t ever going to leave.

~

Weeks pass. You are sure you have gotten past the nightmare. You go to work everyday and Yelena stays home going through paperwork. When you come home the two of you snuggle and bliss fills you. Your mother doesn’t ask you to come to any more charity events and you think maybe, just maybe things are good.

Then Yelena gets called on the mission. When she tells you she will be gone for a week your mind reels. You can barely see straight as the dream vividly flashes through your brain. Yelena gets worried, grabbing your hand and you back away searching her body for any sign of blood.

“No. Lena please. What if you get hurt? I-I can’t. You promised you’d never leave.” Her eyes look at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry. I’m a professional. It’s just a small info gathering job. Absolutely no danger,” she smiles at you and sets a hand on your shoulder. You back away from her hand and lean your head back to force the tears back.

“Yelena… ok. Please. Don’t get hurt,” She nods and kisses your cheek grabbing her bag.

You spend the entire week at home. Anxiety grips you so hard that you can’t stand to go to work. A fever strikes and you throw up every evening at almost exactly 10:30. Work tells you to stay at home and probably go to the doctor. Honestly you’d rather go to work so you have less time to think about her.

Most of Yelena's missions don’t allow for her to contact you and the stress of it all has your brain thinking of her the entire time she’s gone. By the time Yelena is on her way back you have dropped 12 pounds. You hadn’t eaten, only bothering to get up to feed Fanny. A cold sweat coats your skin and you hold your arms to you. Blankets were too hot, but it was too cold without them.

The alarm on your phone signalling it’s time to feed Fanny goes off. You throw the blankets off and wipe dried tears. The tv screen flashes a “keep watching screen.” You aren’t really sure when it came up but your mind hadn’t registered the tv in a couple days.

When the door clicks unlocked you scream. Silence had filled the apartment for so long and the sound was louder than anything you’d ever heard. Fanny starts barking, running to the door, then coming back and sitting at your feet.

You fall to the ground clasping the food scoop. Fanny licks your face as tears fall. Every fear that had plagued you came to the forefront of your mind. What if it wasn’t Yelena? What if it was Hill telling you to come in? No, they would call you for that. But if Yelena was dead…

Arms wrap around and pick you up, setting you on the couch. You whip your head back and forth trying to catch a glance of who it is. In the back of your mind you know it's her, but for some reason you’d been convinced over the past week that she’s dead.

A warm towel wipes away dried tears and snot, and a soft hand holds yours. Tears blur your vision but you steady your breaths. The anxiety in your chest dissipates. You lean your head back forcing the tears in and look back to catch a look at the woman you love. But, instead of long blonde hair and soft round face,  you see long red hair, falling in waves.

“Lena? Did you have to dye your hair for the mission?” She frowns and shakes her head, setting down the towel.

“Fuck Y/N. I know you can’t remember but I hate having to keep telling you this,” The voice is not Yelena’s. It’s your friends. Wanda’s. Your eyes look her all over and you tense up confused.

“Tell me what Wanda? What’s wrong with Lena?” She grabs both your hands and looks at you with the softest expression she can muster.

“The fire Y/N. Do you remember? The fire where Lena…. She bled out,” The anxiety of the dream. No memory. The smoke, your raw throat, and the hours of sobbing.

You shake your head and quick breaths fill your lungs. Wanda tries to get you to calm down. Your vision spots while your brain searches for oxygen your hyperventilating can’t provide.

“Y/N please calm down. Please. FUCK! I promised to never use it without permission but between the two of you…” Red magic flows from her hands and wraps around your head. Your breathing slows down and your vision comes back. Wanda cradles your head and hums.

You reach up and see the tear streaks on her face. Her eyes look bloodshot and dark circles are prominent under her eyes. You pout and try to hug her back. All the fears that had consumed you for weeks were now gone. Even if it was only by Wanda’s magic. You curled into her side and fell asleep. Finally able to find some peace.

~

It was the night of the charity gala. You drove home but had taken the long way around to cool off from your mothers subtle aggression. Plans on how to ignore her future advances build in your mind as you pull into the parking garage. You stepped out of the car and held your head in your hands. You hadn’t drank that much, but a headache would be inevitable.

Sirens sound from the road in front of your complex and you growl. The loud noise and lights make your head pound. You shake your keys and walk towards the stairwell. Coughing into your arm and you open the door to your floor. You throw your hand back with a scream at the hot door handle.

“the fuck…? NO!” forgetting your pain you throw open the door and run into the building. Smoke flows from under doors and fire licks at the walls. The sound of the siren gets louder from some open window. You run through the halls trying your best to not breathe in smoke. Yelena would be asleep. She wouldn’t know what’s happening.

Your apartment door is on the right and you stand back and kick the handle. Your foot hurts as it contacts the rough wooden door but it cracks. You kick again and the door falls in. Running through the door you smack your arm into the frame and cry out in pain.

Fanny barks from one of the rooms and you follow the noise letting her run free into the hallway. You hope dearly that the dog finds her way out.

The entirety of your home is consumed in flames. Beams that held up the apartment above you are on the floor. The poor old couple who was always so nice. Hopefully they had gotten out before it collapsed. Running to your bedroom you try to open the door. It gives quickly but before you can get to Yelena a strong arm grabs at your back.

“What the? HEY!” you squirm trying to slip out of the grip. You have no luck and result to punching. Nothing makes the arms let you go as they pull you from the building. Along the way down you consider it may be a firefighter saving your life.

“Please. My girlfriend, she’s still in there. Please, she was asleep. Save her. I can get out,” you plead with your “saviour”. The person doesn’t acknowledge any words or attempts of movement. They just carry you out of the building back into the parking garage. At some point you began crying, fearing for your girlfriends and your neighbours lives.

You are carried to a car and roughly thrown in. Your broken wrist, now remembered, aches and you curl into a ball. The driver doesn’t speak to you and the person who carried you doesn’t get into the car with you. You didn’t register the person in the back seat with you until they cough. Or rather She coughs.

“Oh Y/N I’m glad we got you out ok. I was so scared we wouldn’t be able to get you out before the fire got you too,” Your eyes widen at the familiar voice and you sit up looking into her eyes. The pieces fall into place in your mind. No you’d never thought she’d be this cruel. Yet here you were, Yelena and Fanny. They were in there.

“You didn’t. no no you didn’t. You are cruel and hateful but not murderous,” you pull away as a hand strokes your cheek. Hate flashes behind your eyes.

“Oh honey. You will forgive me when you realise it was for the sake of the family. Like they always say; ‘Mother knows best.’”

(So it has been decided this is going to be a series. Follow and shoot me an ask if you wanted to be added to the tag list for updates)

DO NOT repost my work. Reblogs and Likes are appreciated. If you enjoy my work leave a comment!

[writing-in-april]

Last Name

Vague Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral reader 

Starring- Reader, Hux, Poe (mentioned)

Warnings- Torture, blood, swearing, guns, normal Star Wars content just a little bloodier

A/N- This is a new fandom for me to write for so here’s to branching out! I’ll still post for Spencer Reid hopefully once a week but I have a bunch of other things I’d like to write for as well!! Thank you Discord for helping me with this especially my beta readers @agntprentiss @fanficlibrary82 and @onedirectionfansarelegends​ (This was the only way I could tag her for some reason) This idea literally came to me in a dream and I just had to write it down (it was supposed to be a blurb then came out to be 2k words 🤷‍♀️) Requests are open!! @april-14-blog​ is my main blog where I reblog smut and fluff.

My head felt like it was on fire, that was the first thought that shot through my head as I came to. I struggled to pry open my eyes, it felt as if I had the weight of a starsystem pulling them closed.

Slowly my senses started coming back to me, I could tell I was strapped to a metal chair with binders around both of my wrists. They were bound tight, tight enough that I could feel the harsh metal digging into my flesh. I must’ve been captured from my latest mission for the resistance, though I could barely recall the details. All I could evoke from my memory was landing on the planet Kashyyyk, I was supposed to meet up with a spy who had critical information for new hyperspace lanes.

Suddenly the metal panel slid open snapped me out of my memories. The harsh scraping of metal on metal setting my teeth on edge. The anticipation of who was going to walk through was like sitting on needles and the hairs of my neck where standing straight up. My eyes were still adjusting to the harsh lighting that was casting varied shadows throughout the room. A silhouette came into my view and I could immediately tell who it was even without being able to see the details of his figure.

General Hux, a smarmy high ranking officer of the First Order. Well at least it wasn’t Kylo Ren.

“Y/N Y/L/N data analyst for the resistance.” Hux sneered from the shadows. “We have a whole file on you, you hold key information about resistance tactics and locations. Resistance is futile, just give us the data” he stepped forward which allowed me to take in his slimy appearance. His eyes looked dead, no emotion was given away, I knew there was no weaseling my way out of this. I’d have to fight my way out.

I completely blocked out Hux’s voice, letting it play in the background like a broken audiobulb, which helped me absorb the blows that started coming at my stomach from a stormtrooper. Eventually they moved up to my upper shoulders and face when it was clear they were getting no reaction from me.

My mouth was steadily filling with crimson blood, which gave me an idea to further goad the general. I spit the blood at Hux spraying his face scarlet and delivered a devilish insult.

“Eat my shit, you flaccid son of of a street whore” I said with a bloody smirk, he was going to have to try harder if he wanted to get me to speak.

“You rebel scum” he spat out at me. Then with a raised fist he punched me in the nose with a sickening crack. “You’ll never leave here, you’ll rot in a cell. Even if you do attempt to escape it’s not like you know how to fly. We’re in the middle of deep space and you’re just a simple analyst.” He taunted at me, this was subtle confirmation that the pilot I came with was dead, at least it wasn’t Poe I thought selfishly.

Through the threshold of my cell a probe droid came through, I started to unconsciously squirm, I knew what was coming next. The black floating sphere droid hovered over to me and shot out a syringe which was surely filled with something they were sure would make me talk.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way” Hux sneered out- Kriff I wish he’d just shut his mouth. “What where you doing orbiting Kashyyyk?”

I shook my head in defiance, I didn’t care about pain, I just cared about the survival of the resistance.

“Very well” he grumbled before waving the torture droid towards me. The needle pricked my right forearm giving me a slice of the pain that was to come. It didn’t creep up on me, but hit me with full force, making me feel as if fire was running through my veins. Hux started screaming at me again to try and pry out the information, even though whatever they injected into me didn’t let me form a single thought. My eyes started to give way- I didn’t know if I was going to pass out or die- just that I needed to do something to escape the burning pain. Relief flooded through my veins as the galaxy around me faded to black.

———————

When I came to again my head was pulsing harder then before, plus there was a sharp ringing in my ears. Pushing my pain aside I promptly started to look for an escape route. Then I remembered how Poe and I had gotten out of being captured by Weequans on Felucia. I prepared myself to scream out to the troopers, I’ll fake being sick and hopefully they’ll let their guard down.

“Help please!” I shouted in the most convincing scream I could managet. “I’m going to throw up! You’ll have to clean it up if you don’t give me a bucket or something!!!”

The two stormtroopers stationed outside finally relented and opened the door with another whoosh. They clambered in obviously miffed that they would have to deal with me. One unlocked the binders and forcefully pulled them off me, giving some relief to my already bruised wrists. They shoved me out of the cell out towards the refresher that was reserved for prisoners.

“Hurry up.” The second one snapped at me in a brusque tone while they shoved me through the door.

I assessed my surroundings trying to find anything to gain the upper hand, sadly it seemed as if I would have to use brute force to escape. I hunched over the toilet pretending to make a gagged sound and called for one of them to help me again. Swiftly I kicked the trooper’s legs out from under them and grabbed his blaster, the second immediately put his hands up knowing that I had the upper hand. I decided to spare the two, by knocking them out with the butt of the blaster.

My legs were burning as I ran out of the detention block with black spots dancing around my vision but, I wouldn’t let myself stop for anything, I needed to get home. The Star destroyer I had gotten myself stranded on had an unnecessary amount of seemingly useless hallways. I was certain I had gotten lost in the deep dispensable cesspool, I had barely even run into any troopers, seemingly signaling that I was off course. Finally I saw the light of a hangar bag coming into view, then of course the alarm went off painting the col clinical hallways a deep red. They must’ve realized that I had escaped, my poor legs were close to giving up, the stress of being tortured had nearly beaten me into submission. Yet I willed myself further as I came in through the hangar doors, troopers were running around looking in every nook and cranny trying to find their lost prisoner. I hid my frame behind a stack of crates and peeled my eyes for a ship to pilot.

My pupils fixated on a tie fighter around the bend that luckily had no troopers snooping about. I made a mad dash towards the open hatch of the ship and hopped inside. Buttons and switches adorned the small ship looking slightly foreign to me. Instead of worrying about taking off I tried to apply basic flight knowledge that Poe taught to me and I got the ship hovering off the ground.

The troopers finally realized what was happening and started to fire at the ship, even though the tethering cable was still attached I grabbed the controls to swerve around incoming fire. I swung around until the end of the tethering cable came into my sights, I quickly swiveled over to the blaster controls. Aiming expertly I shot down the only thing holding me back from leaving this Sarlacc pit. I made my way back to the piloting controls and quickly passed through the exit out into deep space. Several tie fighters followed me trying to shoot me down as a crackling came through the comms.

“You’ll never outrun us!” Hux shouted through the comms, they must’ve still been connected through the enemy ships.

“Are you so sure about that Hux?!” My shaky hands were attempting to program the coordinates of the D’Qar base into the navicomputer which was harder without an astromech to aide me.

“Even if you did escape the star destroyer Y/L/N you wouldn’t get very far- you’re no pilot” his voice like steel scraping through the comms.

“ Did you know my name isn’t Y/L/N anymore Hux?” I mocked as I prepared to jump into hyperspace, I had him right where I wanted him.

“The name’s Dameron, Hugs” I slammed down the hyperspace lever and blasted off ready to go back to my husband who taught me how to fly.

[wonwoosthetic]

Goddess Of The Underworld | Part Two || Geralt of Rivia

My masterlist is linked in my bio :)

PART ONE is advised to be read before this :)

Jesus guys, I got so much positive feedback from the last part, THANK YOU!! It genuinely made me soooo happy, so I hope that you will enjoy this part just as much! :)

Request: Hiiiiii can I please request a Geralt fic, where the reader is like Yennefer but more powerful

!!A/N!!: I’m thinking about re-naming this series, I’m not too happy about it... just don’t feel like it fits the way that I want to take this story, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know! :) I’m sure, you guys are a LOT more creative than me, when it comes to this!!

Warnings: cursing, slight mention of blood

Word Count: 2.198 words

She was born as Hella, the Gentle, but after that fire, her hair turned black and suddenly she was known as Hel. No one knows why.

Goddess Of The Underworld | Part Two: What’s Lost Is Found

Even though the last day he had spent in the village was fairly warm, the way through the forest was a lot colder than he expected. On his way he came across a few villagers sitting around fires they had built themselves or snuggled up under big furs – it interested him how the temperature could change that quickly, but he was thankful that he couldn’t feel the cold. Day one of his journey was slowly coming to an end, Geralt noticed the colour of the sky changing into a warmer tone. The pathway became harder to see, so the Witcher reached behind him in search for his Cat* potion. He dived his hand deep into the bag, rattling it around hoping to feel the glass bottle but without success. “Fuck”, he breathed out in annoyance, I should have remembered to get another few bottles, just in case, he thought. With the sun slowly setting, he could still find his way around as much as any other human being could, in a forest they had never been to. Roach was getting tired as well, noticeable by the way he held his head and his slow steps, either that or he could feel something coming. After travelling a little further, always making sure to follow the dirty earth-path, Geralt stopped his horse, “Hold on, Roach”, he jumped of its back and went around its frame to come face-to-face, gently running his hand up and down the space between the eyes, “we should take a break, you’re tired, it’s okay. Tomorrow’s another day.” He grabbed the rope he always kept in one of the backs attached to the saddle, made a knot around one of the reins and tied the other end around a big, strong-looking tree, next to a free space where Geralt decided to rest for the night. After giving the horse an apple as a good night snack, the Witcher walked around the spot, that had weirdly no grass growing, to look for something like a wooden log to rest his head on and use as a sort of pillow. Within a few minutes he had found one a couple feet away from Roach. He was walking back when a sound of a bush rustling rushed through his ears – it sounded like something or someone was watching him, he could feel it. The Witcher dropped the piece of wood, reached to his back to grab a hold of his sword... that was supposed to be there... Quickly he patted his back with both of his hands to feel if it maybe had moved, but no, there was no longer a sword attached to him. He turned around as a gush of wind went past him, “Show yourself!”, he shouted in an angry voice. How could he not have felt something taking it from his back?

It had already gotten so dark, he wasn’t even able to see his companion anymore, only suddenly hear him whinnying. The white-haired Witcher was quick on his feet, trusting his instincts to get him back to the place he had left all of his belongings before, but without luck.

Geralt was stood in the middle of nowhere, with no sword, no potions, nothing but him and his armor, and his instincts that he felt like, he couldn’t trust anymore.

Accompanied by another subtle wind, a high singing voice echoed through the woods. He turned his head in all directions, looking left and right as a sense of paranoia spread in his stomach – this was more than just unusual for his kind. As soon as the voice stopped, the wind stopped as well and Geralt was left alone with the thoughts running through his head. He was only able to hear the sound of a few leaves scrunching beneath him while turning around in circles, trying to make things out in the dark.

“Who are you?!”, his voice got a lot deeper. A whimpering sound emerged from behind a bush, “Please, no! I-I just-“ “Just wanted what?! Steal all of my stuff?”, the Witcher interrupted the much smaller creature. “No!”, it stood up straight and with the help of the moonlight, Geralt was able to make out the silhouette of a small-looking boy – he couldn’t have been older than twelve years old.

The older man looked at the kid in confusion, “What are you doing out here? Alone.” “My family is over there”, he pointed somewhere in the dark, “but I wanted to warn you”, there was a slight shake in his voice. “Warn me?”, Geralt wanted to know more. “Yes”, the boy got closer to the Witcher, “You shouldn’t be here... it’s not safe for... your kind.”

“So, you know who I am”, his deep voice sent chills of slight fear over the young boy’s body. “Of course. Everyone does. You’re Geralt of Rivia, THE Witcher. Word travels fast... even for elves.”

The last word made Geralt’s head shot up, “Elves? You’re an elve?” And as quick as the young elve showed up, he was gone again. He got scared and sprinted back to where he came from. “No, wait!”, in annoyance, the Witcher puffed out a big amount of air through his teeth.

Great, his stuff got stolen and all he knew was, that he definitely was not welcome here but why... he didn’t know. Deciding, there was not much else to do, as he was still not able to see much, he got down on the floor right next to Roach and tried falling asleep.

The sound of a singing voice woke him up a few times during the dark night.

Sleeping was hard, Geralt wasn’t able to get a good rest – that explained his even worse mood the next morning. After feeding his horse with a few apples, he got on his back and found a small river just a few minutes into his journey, where they stopped and Geralt filed his water bottle while Roach enjoyed the water right from the creek.

Last night’s encounter with the elf kept the Witcher uneasy – and the fact that he had no potions and no weapons anymore.

After a while on the horse’s back, he decided to walk for a bit after finding interesting “foot”prints on the mudy ground. Geralt had never seen any like that, normal feet but with dark prints, possibly ash, and something that looked like a trail that dragged right behind the footprints. I must be getting closer, he thought. He continued the rest of the journey through the woods on his feet.

As soon as the trees stopped growing, the footprints vanished as well. Geralt’s eyes trailed the path further into the distance, only to come to sight with dead trees and bushes. Not one green growing thing in sight... The ground turned from a muddy brown colour to deep black, raven black. He crouched down to the floor, dipped his fingers into the ground and smelled them right afterwards.

Ash. He was right. He was close.

Whatever was beyond this border of death was not going to be safe for Roach. Therefore, Geralt looked for a big tree and tied the horse’s reins witch the rope around it, said goodbye, and gave him one last apple before continuing the walk on his own.

After a few minutes of walking, the Witcher noticed that he was no longer able to see his own feet, from his knees downwards everything was covered in thick dust. The sky had also turned from its normally blue into a white colour, probably covered in clouds. The dead trees had become less and less, slowly there was absolutely nothing anymore. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down Geralt’s back. He quickly whipped his head around to see what had caused it, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything was gone. The path he had been following, the few dead trees – everything.

He turned back around, only to see the exact same emptiness. The only thing he was looking at at that moment, was the colour white.

And there it was again. The singing voice from the night before. It startled Geralt, “What do you want from me?!” But he got no answer. His first instinct was to just run, and so he did. He tried following the voice, but it came from everywhere around him. He ran and ran, his pace quickened but he was going nowhere. There was no point. The singing became louder, slowly and slowly. Geralt ran even faster. The voice followed him. With every step he took, the singing became louder and most importantly higher. The Witcher’s ears started hurting as the voice was almost just an incredibly loud and painful whistle. He had to stop and hold his ears. His knees gave in and he fell to the floor. The voice didn’t stop. Geralt started feeling a warm fluid coming out of his ears as it trickled down his neck. The ringing became louder and his vision darkened.

The first thing he felt were warm hands and something wet on his left ear. The person was very gentle but yet it startled the Witcher. He shot up from his lying position and stood straight with a furious look on his face, “What the fuck are you doing?” “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I swear- I didn’t m- I just wanted to help you.” In front of him, on her knees, next to the bed he had just been lying in, was a young woman, maybe even a girl. She had raven black hair and piercing eyes. Her clothes were just as dark as her hair... this could be... “Who are you?”, he didn’t want to wait. She reached forward to a blanket lying on the bed and handed it to the Witcher because what he didn’t notice was, that he in fact, was butt-ass naked. She contemplated for a short while whether or not to tell him who she really was, “Hella.”

Geralt’s face softened up a slight bit as he looked her up and down, “You? You are Hella?”

Uncomfortably, she crossed her arms in front of her stomach, “So... you’ve... heard of me...” Her eyes drifted everywhere but to the Witcher, who scoffed at her answer, “Yeah, you burnt down an entire village”, he stated in disbelieve. “I didn’t!”, she shouted, startling the man in front of her slightly, “It wasn’t me!”, her breathing quickened and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, “I swear, I didn’t do it.”

She looked so fragile and lost as Geralt looked closely at her. Her arms, her neck, and even her feet were covered in scars – they looked like burns, terrible burns. Looks can be deceiving, but this girl... no, there was no way.

“How did you find me?”, he wondered, as he realised that there was nothing around him when he passed out. “I was looking for some berries and all of sudden you were laying there”, she calmed down, she didn’t want to cry in front of a Witcher, “You looked dead”, she made the bed and then walked over to the small kitchen, where Geralt was able to lean on the counters, “I couldn’t just leave you out there.”

There it was. Way too kind. Just as he was about to answer, a neighing came from outside. No way. He knew that sound only too well. “Oh yeah, your horse is not-”, Hella wasn’t even able to finish her sentence as the Witcher was quick on his feet and ran through the entrance door outside, holding the blanket around his waist. “Roach”, he breathed as a burden fell off his shoulders. The horse turned his head to where the sound of its owner’s voice came from and bumped his nose with Geralt’s face making him smirk. “I know. Good boy.” His hands went up stroke its neck.

“Why did you leave him alone?” He didn’t notice the young woman following him outside with an apple in her hand to feed Roach. “The path looked too dangerous, I wanted to go alone first”, he explained before turning his full body to her, “how did you find him?” “I didn’t”, she started, “he found me. After finding you, I brought you here and he was just suddenly... also... here. I saw the crest”, she pointed to it, “Witcher.”

“Thank you”, he said and truly meant it.

With a smile, she was about to turn around and go back in, when a thought stopped her, “Wait, you... you said the path looked too dangerous... what did you mean by that?” “Are you serious? There was nothing in sight, everything was dead-“, he stopped as he had just gotten time to look around where he was. Still in the woods. Everything was green, not a dead bush or tree in sight. “Wait a second, how-“, Geralt wasn’t able to process everything fast enough, it didn’t make any sense... There was no possible way of... “Oh no”, the small voice from the young woman next to him brought him back. “What?”, he scrunched his eyebrows as he noticed her shaking form.

“They got you too”, she stated and looked at him in fear. 

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

Sooo, this was part two, I hope you enjoyed it :), I’m sorry that it took me so long, but I took part at a musical and had the lead, so I had quite a lot of work to do... hihi

TAGLIST is also still open!

Thank you for all of the love you’re showing towards this series! <3

Hope you have a great day/night! :) <3

[marvelhero-fics]

High School Party

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Anonymus: can I please request a one-shot with peter parker, maybe you two go to a party and get super drunk and then Tony catches you two coming home the next morning or something? thanks!!!

A/N: Sorry this took forever!!! I’ve been so MIA lately because of school work and just a general busy lifestyle but I've got some more fics on the way!

Word Count: 1,483

Warning: alcohol use, drug use, swearing, a little bit of fluff

Of course you didn’t know how much weed you should smoke, it’s not like you’ve ever tried it. Your father, Tony, would lose his mind if he ever found out that you did. You were so baked that the world was spinning, strange colours snaking through your peripheral vision. Peter and you stumbled around the house. Ned was extremely drunk, MJ was definitely on something, and you didn't even want to think about what was going on with Flash.

Throughout the night, drinks seemed to keep appearing in your hand, some from Peter, others from randoms. Not to mention the amount of times Flash poured a double shot into your red solo cup. It began getting to a point where you were so drunk that you couldn't even taste the alcohol entering your body.

You and Peter stumbled around the house, finally entering a guest bedroom. He toppled his body down onto yours, hitting the bed harshly with his body hovering above yours. You both giggled, your faces inches away from each other. Almost immediately, Peters head dropped down to yours, your lips connecting messily, earning another laugh from each of you. Your mouths sloppily attacking each other, your deep breaths in unison along with light giggles. He began dry humping against you, his member rubbing against your thigh through your clothes. Your hands ruffled through his hair, while his hands snaked up your shirt to play with your breast.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m just way too high right now. Or too drunk, I’m not sure.” You mumbled, pushing against his stomach lightly.

“That’s okay babe,” He placed another sloppy kiss against your lips. “We need to head downstairs, I’m starving.” He groaned, his words slurred together. You couldn't tell which one of you was more wasted. After happily kissing for a little longer, his hand grabbed yours and dragged you downstairs towards the sweet smell of fresh pizza. Of course, Flash challenged you, Peter and some others to a sculling contest, which definitely pushed you over the line. Once that alcohol entered your bloodstream, you began blacking out heavily.

Your brain lost sight of everything, everything happening in front of you didn't process. You blacked out.

Your blurry vision was regained for a moment. It was dark outside, illuminated heavily by the outdoor lights. There was a large pool filled with teenagers and probably too many alcohol cans and red solo cups. There was a loud sudden cheer booming through your ears. You head slowly turned to the side of the pool. Flash, Peter and another guy held hands as they sprinted together towards the pool, still fully clothed. Water was sprayed everywhere as they all hit the pool simultaneously, earning louder yelling from the crowd around them.

Black out.

Peter stood with Flash on the stage in front of the DJ set. Everything was moving slowly in your eyes. Flash had a mic in hand, his voice protesting above everyone else’s. Peter’s hands tucked between the buttons in his shirt. Flash shouted something and Peter ripped the shirt from his chest. Your heart stopped for a second and you’d never felt more sober in your life. Did Peter have his suit on underneath his shirt? All of a sudden the weight on your shoulders dropped off entirely as your eyes fell on his bare skin.

“Yo! Penis Parker’s ripped!” Flash hollered. 

Black out.

You sat around an outdoor table, cozied up in a chair with a random jumper wrapped around your frame. A bunch of girls sat in chairs around the table with you, gossiping about boys, and drinks, and whatever fell into their mind. A few questions were fired in your direction about Peter and yourself, however you just felt far too smashed to properly answer anything, you could barely think straight, let-alone speak straight.

Black out.

You sat on one of the living room couches, Peter’s body right next to yours. His lips sloppily attached to your neck and collarbones, likely leaving a trail of dark love bites. The music had only gotten louder and everyone seemed to get more drunk around you. Your hands wrapped around the back of Peters neck to hold him tightly against you. God, you loved this boy.

Black out.

Peter was on the stage once again, and of course Flash stood beside him. Your gaze fell upon Peter. He wore his baggy jeans, one of his shoes was missing. His torso was still bare apart from the red tied in a messy knot around his neck. He also had secured some black sunglasses, which actually framed his face quite nicely. Flash and him sung out a loud duet, though the words were so slurred you couldn't figure out the song. Peter continued to point at you throughout the song, directing what were likely very cute lyrics at you.

Black out.

Peters arm stationed tightly around your waist as the two of you stumbled out the front door, along with most of the remaining guests. You really couldn't walk straight, you could barely hold your body up. Seeing this, Peters other hand quickly maneuvered under your legs, swiftly pulling you up to carry you bridal-style down the driveway. Part of you was concerned people might think Peter was too strong, but then again, everyone else was too drunk to realise. You snuggled your body deeper into Peter’s as he held you tightly, whispering sweet, slurred words into your ear.

Black out.

Your feet dragged over the freshly cut grass, Peter’s hand firmly holding yours. Your body stumbled into Peter’s accidentally and the two of you fell down onto the grass in a laughing fit. He lay on his back, with your body tightly tucked next to him, his arm holding your body protectively. For the final time that night your eyes fluttered shut and your vision was pulled from your brain.

Black out.

“Oh shit, Cap, get the team out here.” Sam chuckled, his voice unnecessarily loud. Your eyes forced themselves open, heavy from the night before and the eye make-up you didn't wash off. The morning sunlight pierced your eyes, causing you to wince. You held your hand up to shield yourself as much as possible from the light. More silhouettes surrounded your and Peter’s groggy bodies. 

��Rhodey, find Tony and meet us out the front.” Steve commanded through the intercoms, a smirk cracking along his lips. Your hand found its way under your body to push yourself up to a seating position. Your head spun, but not in a good way. There was a pounding noise thumping against the inside of your skull.

“What time is it?” You groaned, your fingers squeezing your temples in attempt to stop the pounding. 

“It’s 8:00am” Natasha spoke, clearly finding your current situation hilarious. 

Sam quietly approached Peter who still lay fast asleep beside you. He stood above him, his face hovering slightly above Peters for a minute. 

“Doesn't he look so peaceful.” Bucky commented, now standing next to Sam. 

“AHHH!” Sam yelled, directly over Peter, earning a flinch from yourself. Peter jumped all the way onto his feet, his hand out in a motion to spray webs all over Sam, however there was no web-shooter attached to his wrist. Bucky and Sam simply laughed as Peter sunk back down to the ground, his hand’s also against his temples. 

The noise of the War Machine suit and the Iron Man suit filled your ears as the two metal men landed in front of you.

“Fuck.” you whispered, looking over at Peter, who simply returned with a concerned smile. There was no way out of this one.

“Well don't you two look like shit.” Rhodey chuckled as the War Machine mask lifted to show the shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. Iron Man’s mask lifted next, showing Tony’s stern, very angry face.

You tried your best to avoid eye contact. 

“You told me you’d be home by 11 at the latest.” Tony walked over and crouched in front of you. “And he said he would look after you,” he motioned to Peter, “but he clearly couldn't even look after himself.” Tony added finally, talking a long, judgemental look at Peters disgruntled figure.

“Dad-” You didn’t want to fight against him, knowing that there was no way out of it, but you also didn’t want Peter to be in any trouble. 

“Is that-” Tony took a big whiff of whatever smell was left over on your clothes from last night, “marijuana?” Tony’s face fell even deeper than before. Sam laughed even louder. Your head just fell directly down to your hands. 

“Cap, take Peter to get cleaned up while I deal with this one.” He said, his eyes not leaving yours. “And Parker, you’re lucky I’m not blasting you into next week, kid. You two both have some serious explaining to do.”

[btgalaxy]

Estrella ~ BTS fantasy!au

➳ pairing: jin x reader, jimin x reader

➳ genre: fantasy!au, fluff, angst, slight smut

➳ word count: 3.5k

previous / masterlist / next

Chapter 1

        The silk beneath your fingers is woven from the cocoons of the larvae of the Bombyx Mori, situated in the Marblewick Woods, hidden amidst the viridescent flora and foliage; expensive, and by all means worth the levy considering your deep slumbers each night, encased in a handcrafted cloud. You extend your arms above your head and arch your back as you stretch each muscle, bending over your fingers till they touch, intertwining them to push your arms further. You sigh as you sit up, blinking to adjust to the warm sunlight spilling through the window like a waterfall of silhouettes depicting a palace window.

“M’lady.” Your handmaid, Nova, walks in with a blush gown draped over her forearm wantonly, “Breakfast will be served at 7.”

You hum, allowing yourself to fall back against the pillows with a deliberate huff. Nova quietly laughs at your lethargy as she sets the dress down on the cream chaise longue by the window, overlooking the grounds.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, m’lady, to help you prepare for the day.”

You moan again in response, waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes are closed, so you can hear only the gentle footsteps of her movement back to the door, and the click of the handle, signalling her leave.

She understands your reluctance to wake this day. The day you shall meet the dreaded Prince of Orion. The man you shall marry in due time, uniting your neighbouring kingdoms through your matrimony and dominating the East of Estrella. You’ve fought your parents on the matter relentlessly, insisting you’ve no desire to be married, nor to unite Lyra and Orion, that the two kingdoms should stay separated as Andromeda intended. But they dismiss your argument, and tell you not believe in such ‘fairy tales’.

The history of Estrella is widely debated, these days. Scholars and historians are very aware of the Great War, but its origins have been tied with mythology and legends, that the Gods and Goddesses the land once worshipped have now been deemed folklore and labelled as bedtime stories for the children of Estrella. You, however, believe otherwise. The stories inked onto the pages of the ancient books in the palace library are far too vivid and haunting for them to not be real; you see them in a way others can’t, a way one blinded by societal pride cannot.

You flutter your eyes open again, gazing up towards the ceiling, admiring the billowing patterns. Each room has been painted by the art maestro, Calypso Vega. She spent seven weeks cooped up alone in your palace, adamant to remain undisturbed till she’d completed her task. And she did it brilliantly. Every room is different, and tailored to its tenant. Yours has been painted to depict a story, the story of Andromeda and Calvus, starting from the left with fires and war, all the way to the right with Andromeda returning to the Onyx Sea. Perhaps that’s why the stories have stayed with you after all these years, having woken to them each morning and dreamt of them each night.

Nova returns far too quickly for your liking, if you could have it your way she’d not return at all and you’d spend the weeks curled up under your horrendously expensive duvet with your eyelids closed and mind wide open with lucid dreams of the Gods and their unparalleled power. But instead, you’re begrudgingly lifting your legs out of the comfort of your quilts, and lowering your feet against the cold of the marble flooring.

“The Queen chose your dress for the meeting today, she said the prince adores warm colours on a woman.” Nova smiles at you, attempting to be excited, but you give a blank response dropping your nightdress to the floor and stepping into some tan drawers, manoeuvred gently upwards to your hips by Nova’s practised hands. Next, she brings a white chemise over your head and you brace yourself against a post of your bed as she wraps a corset around your waist, tugging at the strings hard enough you stumble a little, even with the aid of the mahogany pillar.

“It’s a bit tight, Nova.” You choke out, as she pulls the final strings into a knot.

“The Queen requested I do it tighter today.” She apologises, “She wants you to look perfect.”

“I assume breathing isn’t a constituent of perfection then.”

She chuckles lightly, “I’m afraid not.”

Your crinoline is tied neatly around your waist, the metal bars already resembling a cage as your lower half becomes achingly heavier. Then finally, Nova takes the dress strewn across the chaise longue and requests you raise your arms. You do so, as you’ve been taught the past eighteen years following the same daily routine.

“It’s a beautiful dress.” Nova compliments, adjusting the trail and lacing up the back, “It was fashioned by a tailor in Bellmead, with the instructions the gown should be a warm colour, and suitable for a queen.” Nova laughs to herself, “He must know his way around royalty. And after the people see you wearing this, well, the nobles will come storming through his door.”

You watch your reflection in the mirror; the face staring back at you- sometimes it feels as though it isn’t all there. Like a part of you is missing, a part that might be small but undeniably cardinal. And the thought lingers on your mind nearly daily now, the notion that there’s something, some component of you or your history that’s hidden behind years of luxury and affluence, veiled by your palace life and highly regulated existence. Nova notices your expression and her features soften at the sight as she places a comforting hand on your near bare shoulder.

“Let me do your hair.” She guides you to the stool at your dressing table, littered with various perfume and cosmetics, all of the highest quality shipped from all over Estrella. Your mother says if it isn’t well made, then it isn’t worth having. That may just be the mindset of a queen, however.

Nova starts to pull at the locks of your hair into a bun, a few strands let loose to frame your face. You’re immediately aware of the resemblance of the hairstyle to the Queen’s usual updo, and frankly not surprised. By duplicating her appearance, you echo a sense of security to the new kingdom, a sense of experience; a false sense, but nonetheless present.

“Beautiful, m’lady.” Nova smiles slightly, placing the sleek silver brush on the white painted rosewood, picking up a translucent powder to lighten your skin, and then a small pot of red tinted balm for your lips. She swipes a generous amount of eyeliner across your upper lid to accentuate the striking colour, before finally bringing some wamrth back to you with a rose blush over the apples of your cheeks. You look like some sort of porcelain doll, just like every other royal or noble in Estrella.

You reach forwards, clasping onto an oceanic scented perfume from Volantis, down South. You spray over your neck and wrists, rolling your head back as the pungent aroma wafts up your nose and calms your frantic thoughts. You love the ocean, and anything that reminds you of it, but as princess of Lyra you’ve no chance to parade off to the warm beaches and fall asleep on the sand to the sound of the crashing waves. You’ve other duties to attend to. Like marrying a Prince you don’t love.

“Breakfast will be served in 20 minutes, m’lady. Would you like me to escort you downstairs? Or will you wait for someone else?” Nova’s insinuation is clear, but your head doesn’t feel right to see him right now. Not the day you will be engaged to someone else. The day that you will never be able to see him again, touch him again, kiss him again.

“I’ll go now.” You swallow down the bitter anguish biting at your throat, avoiding her gaze while you take a necklace from the jewellery stand and clasp it around your neck.

“He’s not angry.” Nova begins, and you busy yourself with numerous bijouterie, “He wants to say goodbye.”

“Well he doesn’t get that choice.” You snap, “He is a servant and I am his princess and he shall respect my wishes. Stop stepping out of your place, Nova.”

Although your words are harsh, you’ve no other way of coping with this seemingly endless torment. And so Nova bows her head respectfully, apologising quietly before ambling out of the room, head hung low. You shut your eyes and sigh, immediately regretful. She didn’t deserve that. You begin to walk out of the room, to go and tell her sorry, that you don’t mean what you say and you’re just stressed and upset, but instead you’re met by the force of the door from the other side. And his face appears from behind the gaping oak.

“Jimin?” You choke, as he lets out a breath of relief at the sight of you. He comes tumbling in all of a sudden, wrapping you up in his arms and burrowing his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume till his lungs are full and he has to breathe out, the gust flying over your flesh. “Jimin you can’t be here.”

“Nova’s on watch.” He mumbles, pulling back and settling his hands on your waist, as close to you as he can possibly be. You daren’t look him in the eye; you know you’ll cave. And he immediately knows what you’re doing.

“Y/N look at me.” He murmurs, bringing one hand to your chin, his thumb delicately grazing over your crimson lips setting your heart alight. His mere presence sets you on fire with pure, unadulterated passion and desire, and you know you’ll never be able to fend him off whilst alone in your bedroom with 20 minutes before anyone comes looking, so you can’t meet his gaze. You have to keep your eyes shut. For your sake and for his.

“Baby, look at me.” His breath fans over the tip of your nose, your eyes still screwed firmly shut.

He tugs you closer, “If you won’t look at me then I’ll have to kiss you.”

You’re eyes shoot open to this, beyond certain the moment kisses you all self-control will be lost to the aching depths of the Onyx Sea and never to be retrieved. How long has it been since you’ve looked at him like this? As the princess, your schedule is frequently packed with meetings, lessons, appearances, trips, and his servant duties are to be attended to all but 4 hours of the day when he sleeps, so you haven’t looked at him like this in a long, long time.

“Y/N,” his voice is deep, husky, ravenous, “I can’t believe you’re marrying him.”

You purse your lips, glancing downwards, “I don’t want to.”

“But you are.” His response is fast, but he continues slowly, deliberately. “You’re going to marry a man; a man that’s not me. And he’s going to touch you, and kiss you, and hold you at night, and flaunt you off to the public. He’s going to love you and I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life watching the woman I love give herself to another man each night.”

You aren’t sure when you started, but you’re crying now. Cautious tears, of course, careful not to tamper with your freshly made up face, but you can’t control the rate at which they come out. Jimin’s words are too harsh, too real to deny. And it’s making your heart ache.

“Jimin,” you breathe.

“I love you, Y/N.” Your heart stops for a second. “I love you and you must know I’m yours eternally.”

You finally meet his gaze, boring into you and encouraging the tears brimming at your eyelids, “I know. And I’ll always be yours.”

Then he does the one thing he shouldn’t do. He kisses you.

His lips are warm and soft, as they always have been, although the intensity of the kiss is beyond your usual, slow pace, this is frantic and fuelled by desperation. Perhaps if he shows his love hard enough, then you won’t have to go and marry some bastard prince? The thought is overlooked by lust as Jimin walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the bed and he’s clambering on top of you, mouth still working against yours.

The room’s getting hotter. The air, thicker. But you won’t stop him. This may be your very last chance to feel the way his body contracts when you touch him, the way his lips concede when you push back hard enough. And you don’t want to forget, so you savour each second.

He pushes down against you harder, his hands becoming more and more rapid with their movements as you trail your own across his pectorals and towards his abdominal muscles, flexing against your fingertips. He feels so good. His lips find their way to your neck, one hand situated on your hip and the other slowly sculpting the curve of your back as it sinks dangerously low. The breath in your throat hitches as he sucks harshly on the tender flesh of your collarbone, and you have to distract him with your lips again before he can mark you and leave you tainted for the Prince.

He’s always loved marking you. Preferably somewhere people can see, but he’s had to settle for the more discrete places. He has never and will never be able to announce his love for you publicly, as he so desires to, so by leaving a mark on your skin- it satisfied his possessiveness over you, your body. It was proof enough that you belonged to him, that you weren’t to be touched by other men.

Just as things become increasingly fervent, frenzied, fanatical, three gentle knocks on the door signal to you both that your time is up. Your mouths cease their movement, but neither of you go to move from your position on the bed, with Jimin’s chest pressed against yours, legs entangled carelessly. He sighs, pressing his forehead against yours and observing you through hooded, libidinous eyes.

“I don’t want you to marry him.”

“I don’t want to, either.”

The reality is tragic, but you’re both aware that there’s no choice in the matter. No easy way out. No running away. You just have to face this, meaning you will be married and he will be at the palace still, serving dinners and cleaning toilets.

Another knock at the door. “I won’t ever forget about you.”

The words must be a stab to Jimin’s chest as he holds his breath, digesting the situation of you with another man, thinking about him.

“This is too much.”

“You’re perfect, Park Jimin.”

“For you, I am.”

Nova enters abruptly, unaffected by the compromising position she finds you in and interrupting you mid-conversation. Jimin scrambles to his feet, offering you a hand as he pulls you up next to him, bowing his head to your handmaid.

“It’s 8, m’lady. We need to go to breakfast now.” Nova insists, somewhat apologetically.

“Yes, Nova, of course.” You blink rapidly, processing. Then you walk out of the room without looking back at his face, certain you will end up staying if you do. This way is better, this way you can remember him normal with you, gazing down at you hungrily with a venereal glint in his eye and a loving caress on your waist. It’s how you want your memories with Jimin to remain.

Nova escorts you downstairs, down past clusters of maids all frantically putting up decorations, watering plants, folding sheets, polishing, cleaning, dusting. It’s alive with a maniacal enthusiasm to prepare the palace for the Prince’s arrival over the next hour or so. He’s due mid-morning.

The breakfast room has been set up for a crowd you aren’t accommodating, as usual. The numerous platters of food bestrewn over the rich maroon tablecloth would fill an army, let alone three little royals sat so far away from each other they can barely hear another speak.

“Good morning mother, father.” You smile politely, biting back the despondency of parting with Jimin a meagre few moments ago.

The King grins expectantly, “A good morning indeed, Y/N.”

Your mother mimics his expression, “You look so incredibly beautiful. I knew that dress was worth the extra expense.” She continues to gush incessantly about her hardships unearthing the perfect tailor to craft your perfect gown, and how you should be abundantly grateful for all her hard work. You can only seem to manage a miserly nod of ‘appreciation’.

“The Prince is apparently the most attractive royal in Estrella, according to Lady Faye,” the Queen takes a polite sip of her morning beverage, “She says he’s an incredibly polite and handsome young man. The ideal suitor.” She seems to be grinning from ear to ear, but you can’t reciprocate. Not with the thought of your true illicit love hanging over your head like a guillotine.

“I shouldn’t expect any less for our Y/N.” Your father chimes.

“I think I’m finished.” You announce, sighing at the plate in front of you, barely touched.

“But you’ve not eaten.” Your mother squeals, peering over to see all the immaculate pastries and fruits surrounding you, untarnished by a greedy touch.

You wet your lower lip, “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re nervous is all, darling. You should eat.”

“I don’t think I could.” You get up from the seat, pulling out the chair as a server comes rushing over to hold it for you, “I think I’ll retire to my room until the prince arrives, if you’ll allow me.”

The Queen seems to think over your request, a little reluctant to see you leave so hastily before she can perpetually rattle on in your ear about the indefatigable advantages of a matrimony between two kingdoms. The first of it’s kind, she’d brag.

She pushes her lips to the side, “I don’t like you all alone in that stuffy bedroom. You can sit in the gardens until his arrival. The sun will be a blessing, you’re looking slightly pale.” Probably because you’re about to be married off to some foreign prince you’ve never met.

You bow your head respectfully, “Of course, mother. I’ll take a walk to the lake.”

“You haven’t very long before he arrives, don’t muddy the ends of your dress.”

Surprisingly, you’re genuinely thankful for your mother’s suggestion, even on a day she’s unrelentingly overlooking your wishes. The warm, mellow breeze outdoors lifts your mood ever so slightly and wallows up beneath your dress, wafting over the bare skin of your legs. It takes you to a place where life was much simpler, easier. Where you weren’t being forced to marry and you cared only of heedless frolicking in your pinafore and crying for Nova when you couldn’t reach the fruit on the King’s beloved blackberry bushes.

The lake ripples as the ducks sail through the lukewarm water like some picturesque vision only sought out in the depths of your most tranquil dreams, as though you’re in a sort of fictitious world. It’s always been that way; you know your life is beyond the imagination of most of the civilians inhabiting Lyra. Although they aren’t living in poverty, their lives will never come close to equalling the luxury and splendour of yours.

Suddenly, you feel something pinch at your shoulder as talons grate over your smooth flesh like needles. You feel Apollo’s beak nuzzle against your tied back hair, pulling some of the strands out of place in the process, nipping at the skin of your scalp. The small Phoenix has been living on these lands for centuries it seems, well before the palace was built. She is the one creature your parents permit to occupy this land, partly, however, because they wouldn’t know how to make her leave; she abides by her own rules. You slowly raise your hand to caress her oxblood wings, feathered with patches of vermilion and gold, creating a balayage resembling a flame.

“Hey Polly,” you coo, regretting not taking a pastry out from breakfast to feed her. She wobbles back and forth on your shoulder for a second, balancing herself before spreading her wings out and arching her neck backwards. She’s exquisite, truly. Her striking colours incite a blaze in anyone’s eyes, an unparalleled beauty.

The sudden ringing of bells, however, startle her, and she’s immediately off your shoulder and flying low across the lake, raking one talon through the water and frightening off all the ducks. You watch her shoot off into the sky before processing the sound ringing in your ears. The bells. The bells that signal an arrival. The Prince.

previous / masterlist / next

[alluran]

be the one tonight

a/n: idk why it’s taken me this long to put in an adventure time reference a/n like two years later: idk what adventure time reference i used is there even one here

(10:45 p.m.) lance: go outside

(10:47 p.m.) keith: no?? it’s almost 11 o’clock, lance. go to sleep (10:47 p.m.) keith: or bother hunk

(10:48 p.m.) lance: I’ll have you know Hunk is out with Shay and I have enough common decency not to interrupt. you’re zero fun, you know that? where’s your sense of adventure

(10:54 p.m.) keith: your sense of courtesy and propriety is truly unprecedented and biased. I’m busy and my sense of adventure only adheres to regular adult hours.

(10:55 p.m.) lance: yeah okay, grandpa. but last I checked the old folks’ home has a 9 o’clock curfew and, judging by the amount of time between your responses, I know you’re doing dishes. you’ve been doing dishes during regular, adult sleeping hours since the sophomore year of college, so your argument is invalid. (10:57 p.m.) lance: we’re 25 and you’re doing dishes at 11 p.m. on a Friday night and you’re going to stop right this second and go outside, keith

(11:01 p.m.) keith: who’s keith?

(11:01 p.m.) lance: har har that works exactly two times and you wasted your shots three years ago. you’ve held onto the same cell phone number since you were 16 (11:08) lance: I WILL NOT BE IGNORED KEITH

Keith swiped his hand over the dish towel by his side before unlocking his phone, scoffing at Lance’s last text. He rolled his eyes, if Keith had actually been ignoring him, he would have finished up washing the dishes twenty minutes ago. Part of him got a maniacal thrill knowing that Lance was getting the notification that Keith had seen his message - driving home the ruthlessly purposeful act of ignoring him. It happened every now and again, Lance either had coffee too late in the day or got his second wind, albeit it usually lasted an hour and a half tops before the week finally came crashing down on his system. He would text one of them or show up at someone’s door or call or whatever Lance felt particularly up to given the day of the week (pooling results from Pidge and Hunk, it was found that Mondays and Thursdays were the days Lance only wanted someone to veg out watching Netflix with, Tuesdays were stress days where Lance just needed to unload a particularly crappy day or whatever, and Friday or Saturday were the ‘Adventure Days’),

He’d burn through it relatively fast before crashing on someone’s couch and call a Family Breakfast at whoever’s house he stayed at the next morning.

Which, he wasn’t complaining about, for the record. Hunk always brought his A game for last minute group breakfasts and, begrudgingly he had to admit, Lance had French toast on lock if someone wanted it. He even knew the amount of powdered sugar Keith liked on his and didn’t judge him for it.

(11:12 p.m.) lance: you have 30 seconds to rectify the abysmal negligence shown toward your best friend

(11:13 p.m.) keith: you’re right, I completely forgot to text pidge back earlier

(11:14 p.m.) lance: why are you like this (11:15 p.m.) lance: i’m appalled (11:16 p.m.) lance: shiro would be disappointed. i’m texting him right now

(11: 17 p.m.) keith: oh, trust me. if you text shiro at this very moment, after he just got off a 16 hour shift, it’s not going to be me he will be disappointed in (11:18 p.m.) keith: actually you know what? you should text him

(11:20 p.m.) lance: I’ve let you stall for like half an hour, keith. you’ve really left me with no choice

Keith tapped his thumb against the phone’s screen, ready to fire back a response when a screech and all too - all too - familiar horn broke the quiet bubble over the neighborhood. He startled enough to check his hip hard against the counter and yelled. He tore through the house, bumping every piece of furniture and stumbling over his shoes in his life or death path for the front door because the horn wasn’t stopping or even repeating. Just one long stretch of annoying that would have the neighbors after his head. The door bounced back against the wall from the force he tore it open with. He fought the screen door as the latch caught and stuck in place, putting his lurch to a halt.

He jerked the latch and fumbled for the porch light, flicking it on and off in his haste to send Lance the message that yes, he was coming out and to stop.

The complete asshole.

Keith staggered down the stoop in socked feet and bee-lined for Lance. His anger surged when he was only met with laughter and the pleased glimmer in Lance’s eyes when his hand caught in the worn blue t-shirt.

“I’m this close to throttling you. Geez.” Keith shoved Lance halfheartedly as his hands began to shake, he ran them through his hair in hopes it would stop the twitching. “What is the matter with you?! Do you want someone to call the police???”

Lance’s tongue peaked out and swiped cheekily against his lip as his face broke out into a grin. “Good to see you too, Red.”

“Someone better be dying, McClain,” Keith huffed. Adrenaline still heaved through his veins, dragged his shoulders in shuddering breaths, but enough anger left him enough to let some humor leak into his words.

The line usually landed with Lance, but tonight it shot off in the dark and exploded in the distance as the humor left Lance’s face and a curtain of sobriety fell over his eyes.

Keith moved to stand next to him, leaning his back against Lance’s car. He cleared his throat. “Soooo, you know I’m not really going to throttle you, right? Because that was a j-”

“Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

“Wh- Lance.”

The boy in question scratched the back of his head, a nervous tick that was ill-fitted on his broad shoulders, restraining his frame like an old coat. He furrowed his brows, the line of his mouth working against whatever was going on in his head. “Will you go somewhere with me?

“I’m pulling the emergency friend card.”

And wasn’t that more startling to hear than the high-pitched whine of Lance’s car horn. “Wait, someone’s not actually dying, right? Do I need to wake up Shiro?”

“Wh-no, no, no. Nothing like that. Things are just...” Lance wriggled his fingers by his temple. “Loud.”

“Yeah, yeah...Okay.” Keith nodded his head and struck out back to the door. “Let me get my shoes and keys.”

Lance folded his arms across his chest and nodded. “Cool. I’ll drive, obviously.”

-

So, here he was, the residue of Dawn dish soap drying uncomfortably on his wrists in Lance’s passenger seat going to some unknown secondary location with no clue why and the part of him that still ultimately failed at social cues and dealing with serious situations, wanted to make a jibe about things never going great if you agreed to go to a secondary location. The static of the radio out of tune and Lance’s somber focus on driving stills whatever words on his tongue.

Usually the radio was on and being constantly rotated between stations during commercial breaks or in search of a song Lance liked better, circling through that motion twice before he punched the button to play a mixed CD he’s had since high school. It probably hadn’t left the dash of Lance’s car since the day it was burned.

He and Lance could speed through emotions and conversations like no other when they were together, but the way Lance had all but deflated in the driveway after the unrelenting texts and confident attitude made his skin crawl. On top of the emergency friend card thing. Which was instated after Keith and Lance had to have a chat on what Keith considered a friend emergency and what Lance did. It had been more of a joke than anything. Usually, they mentioned it only ironically. But this time, Lance’s voice was too earnest for it to be anything but.

“You, uhm, obviously have stuff on your mind and I don’t even know if you want to talk, but you’ve gotta give me something here, Lance. I-If I’m going to be of any use.” He wasn’t Hunk. Hunk was usually Lance’s go-to person for these times. The unspoken sentiment hung in the humid night air between them.

He couldn’t just read Lance’s mind. Couldn’t look him in the eyes and know exactly what was going on in his head like Hunk can. No matter how often he found himself wishing he could lately.

“Right.” Lance signaled and turned down a side street, the space between houses growing. The number of road lights flickered out out-numbering the ones that still blazed an aged yellow, washing the inside of the car occasionally.

Keith’s confusion swelled as the car was parked in an open, uninhabited area. The sky unhindered as Lance got out of the car and hopped on the hood of the car. It was several moments before Keith realized he still had the seat belt on and wasn’t following Lance’s cue. So, he did.

Popped out of the car and hopped onto the hood, very concerned about the amount of popping and creaking from their weight settling onto it. He let out the breath he had been holding when Lance didn’t say anything or look even marginally concerned and leaned back against the window like Lance was.

“So...”

“I wanted to show you where this is.”

“This...?”

Lance chuckled and swept a hand out. “Right out there. Straight out of The Lion King.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but followed the line of Lance’s hand all the same. The sky was deep and crystal clear above them. Close and simultaneously far away. He could sort out the curve of the sky without buildings in the way. The stars looked lit up just for this one moment and-

The thing about Lance was that as much as he was loud, he had his quiet spots. Keith had been privy to a select few, not that that was bad. Lance deserved to have spaces of his own between all of his siblings and school and work and the sheer amount of time he still spent with his friends. For years he had questioned whether or not Lance actually slept. Away from the harsh porch light and rows of houses, Lance’s expression opened and relaxed as he looked over the sky. His shoulders drooped and the line of his silhouette seemed to go on forever as he stretched out his legs.

“You’re not looking, Keith.”

The thing about Keith was that he had seen the clear, open sky several times.

[kaitymccoy123]

Unimaginable

(the title is a Hamilton reference **surprise surprise** from the song “It’s Quiet Uptown - “going through the unimaginable”)

Intro: I am going to preface this fic by saying I am so sorry.  Like holy moly.  I honestly have no idea where this came from but I guess I was in an angsty mood and this just put itself together in my brain.  

This is for the ever-so-lovely @trekken81‘s Ed Sheeran Challenge and I chose the song Dive.

I didn’t know the song before writing this fic, and honestly struggled for a while with it. ��But then I thought of one of the drabbles that I wrote for 400 followers, and it really connected with this song.  It is The One Where Leonard Drowns - you can see already where the angst is coming from.  Feel free to read that one first, as it may give you some context into the ‘memories’ that are dispersed through the story, but you should be able to read this without reading the drabble. 

Pairing: Bones x reader

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: Heavy on the angst.  Small amounts of fluff but it only makes the angst hurt more.  Sorry.  Brief description of CPR.  A lot of sadness.  

ALSO: The formatting for this one is pretty weird.  It makes sense in my brain but that’s probably because I wrote it lol.  So if it doesn’t make sense I’m sorry. The italicized words are memories, the non-italicized words are current events, and the lyrics for the song are italicized and indented.  

-Enjoy!-

“Tell me what to do!  I need you to tell me what to do!”

His ribs crunched beneath your hands as you pounded on his chest. 

“I need you, Leonard.”

You dug the heel of your palm into your eyes, trying to dispel the images. 

The feeling of his lips, strikingly cold, unnaturally cold against yours as you forced air into his lungs.

Gasping, tears stinging your eyes, you scrubbed at your lips with your hand until they were numb. 

A knock.

The snap of a twig, the aliens approaching, and you curled over his un-moving body protectively. 

You looked through watery eyes to see a silhouette at your door. 

The form was leaning against the frame, and it struck another memory into your brain. 

Maybe I came on too strong Maybe I waited too long Maybe I played my cards wrong Oh just a little bit wrong Baby I apologize for it 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Hazel eyes glided into your view, framed by a tan face, dark hair, and a gentle smile. 

“Yes, actually, it’s reserved for my feet.” You smirked up at him and stuck your feet up onto the chair. 

“And why aren’t those feet out on the dance floor?  Especially since they are connected to a beautiful young woman such as yourself.” A handsome smile curled at his lips.

You rolled your eyes and huff, but you couldn’t hide a grin, “Are you asking me to dance...”

“Leonard.  Leonard McCoy.”

Another knock, and a soft voice, indecipherable behind the closed door. 

“You’re an asshat, Leonard McCoy.”

Footsteps were following close behind you,“Wait, Y/N, I can explain. Just stop.”

You didn’t. 

“I always meet douchy guys at that bar, I thought I was wrong for once.  Guess the streak continues.”

You fumbled with your keys, frustrated with your shaking hands. 

“Come on, darlin’.  Let me explain.” He appeared at your side, taking your keys and deftly unlocking the door in one controlled movement. 

“No.” You stepped into the room, blocking Leonard from entering, “And don’t call me ‘darlin’’.”

You slammed the door in his face. 

Stepping in, you threw your bag against the wall and pressed your hands to your forehead before dragging your fingers through your hair and letting a few tears fall.  Looking back towards the door, you saw his silhouette just outside the translucent glass, leaning up against the door frame, as if he was pressing his forehead against the door. 

“Hey, Y/N?  I’m sorry.  Listen, I really am.  Y/N?”

Another knock woke you from your memory. 

“Y/N? Are you in there?” An voice just outside the door. 

Your tongue was thick in your mouth, your limbs heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move from your fetal position on the bed. 

I could fall or I could fly Here in your aeroplane I could live, I could die Hanging on the words you say I've been known to give my all And jumping in harder than 10,000 rocks on the lake

“Y/N?” The swishing of the door. 

A splash.  You didn’t realize at the time but every moment after that sound would be the worst moments of your life. 

You twisted in the sheets, your legs getting tangled and you felt like you were trapped. 

You were dragged under again.  No air.  You struggled against the dead weight that you had your arms wrapped around and you barely managed to breach the surface.  Air. 

Your toes finally found purchase on the sheets and you were able to kick them off.  Air. 

Through your kicking and thrashing you somehow managed to move to where your tip toes touches the sand below the freezing water.  You couldn't let go of the weight that dragged you backwards.  You couldn't let go. 

A hand on your shoulder, a face hovering over you.

"Hey, did you hide my socks?" A warm breath tickled your hair and you peeled your eyes open. 

"What?" The words slid out of your sleepy lips. 

"My socks." Leonard's face was inches from yours, his body hovered over yours, "You know, the yellow-striped ones, I can't find them." 

"Ohhhh." You sighed, turning over under the blankets, pulling it up under your chin as you settled back into the bed, your eyes falling shut again, "Havn' seen 'em."

"I need them, darlin', my shift starts in 5 minutes." Leonard carded his hands through your hair and pulled at the blankets. 

"Nooo." You groaned, sliding deeper, away from his caressing hands, "Iz not my fault you need your stupid lucky socks."

"They're not stupid, and I have a really important surgery today so just tell me where they are.  I know you know." He revealed your head from under the blankets and started nuzzling around your face, his voice vibrating off your skin, making you giggle. 

"I don't know, you weirdo." You leaned into the soft kisses he was pressing against your neck, sinking your fingers into his hair. 

"You're lying." A kiss to your lips. 

"And how would you know that?" 

"Because, darlin', I know every inch of you, I can tell when you're lying." His hands slid under the blankets now, dancing his fingers down your arms, and you jumped at the coolness of his fingers against your skin. 

"If-if you know everything inch of me, how could you miss...THIS?!" You teased, tugging down the blankets in one swoop and revealing your body, and your yellow-striped-sock-covered-feet.

"You..." Leonard teased, growling before nearly attacking you with a kiss, setting fire to your skin. 

And before you could stop him he was pulling at the socks on your feet, and you were sent into a fit of giggles.  You screeched as his hands roughly slid up your legs, having freed your feet from the socks, and reached your upper body, pinning your wrists to the bed.  

"You are so going to pay for that, darlin'."

“Lass?  Lass?  Y/N?” A hand smoothing down your spine. 

You struck out, connecting with something soft and hearing a quiet “oof”. 

Springing your eyes open, you saw Scotty, a hand pressed to his arm. 

“Scotty?” Your voice scratched at your throat. 

“Aye.” He rubbed his arm.

“Did I hit you?” You sat up on your elbows a bit. 

“No worries, lassie.”

Moving to the edge of the bed, you touched your toes to the ground, focusing on the feeling of the steady floor beneath your feet.  You weren’t drowning.  You were okay. 

Then, a voice.  You weren’t sure if it was Scotty’s or your own. 

“It’s time.” 

His name was the last thing on your lips before the world went black.

“Leonard.”

You met Scotty’s sad gaze. 

The force it took to tilt your head into a nod was unimaginable. 

So don't call me baby Unless you mean it Don't tell me you need me If you don't believe it So let me know the truth Before I dive right into you

"Don't say that."

"Say what?" 

"That you love me."

"Why not?"

"Because of your face."

"My face?"

"You look so serious."

"So?"

"It means you mean it."

"I do mean it."

"Well that's not good."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you, too."

Every step next to Scotty was excruciating.  His hand on your lower back was basically the only thing keeping you upright. 

Then, the room, too white, always too white, too clean, too familiar.  A figure in the bed, too silent, too peaceful, too still, too familiar.    

A shiver went down your spine, the cool wind rustling the treetops stung your soaked skin.  A gray form was splayed out on the beach.

“Leonard.”

You fell next to him, somehow making it onto a chair, somehow not falling to your knees as you took his hand, as his fingers didn’t close around yours.

You leaned in, resting your head on Leonard’s chest, praying to hear anything, any sign of life.

His breathing was even and steady, his heart was beating, not as strong as the the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that.  

Your heart was beating, not as strong as the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that.  You wondered if it’d stop today.

“You stupid idiot.  Why did you have to make me love you?” You spoke to an empty room, to empty ears. 

“Because this would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t love you.” Tears created crevices on your cheeks. 

“But I do.” You smiled. 

“See my face? This is my serious face.”

You leaned in close, touching your nose to his. 

“Tell me what to do!  I need you to tell me what to do!”

A kiss to his unconscious lips. 

“I need you, Leonard.”

A knock.  

A twig snapping.

A sympathetic gaze. 

Dark forms appear deep in the forest. 

Panic.  This was not happening again. 

Fear flashed over your skin and you ran your fingers over his chest, pressing down as hard as you could, trying to get blood moving, is that what you're supposed to do?

"Wake up!  Please wake up!" Hot tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“Wake up, Leonard.  I need you.”

A buzzing made you lift your head and you realized that the doctor was talking to you, explaining what was going to happen.  It was like it was another language.  

Monitors were being shut off, wires disconnected, a curtain pulled back.  You were drowning. 

You curled closer to him as a dark form loomed over you. 

“Please, Leonard, come back to me.”

Then, he wasn’t connected to anything anymore.  He looked like him.  Like he was sleeping  

And then you were alone. 

Beep.  Beep.  A heartbeat. 

I could fall or I could fly Here in your aeroplane

"I don't deserve a second chance, I know."

"That's the problem.  You do."

Beep.  Beep. 

I could live, I could die Hanging on the words you say

"You have bewitched me, body and soul..."

"That's from Pride and Prejudice."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

Beep.  Beep. 

I've been known to give my all And lie awake, every day

"You did all this?  For me?"

"Oh, darlin', have you not been paying attention at all?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Anything."

"What-?"

"I would do anything for you."

Don't know how much I can take

"Come back to me."

Beep. 

-Thanks for reading!  I hope you liked it!-

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