#walking into that cemetery was almost overwhelming

[ca-d]

Arnold Arboretum // Forest Hills Cemetery

[funniestpersonalivefr]

couldn't leave you

wesker lives after the events of resident evil five but returns to find you mourning his death. mentions of character death and the grief that comes with that. not proofread, credit to image owner.

it felt like a scene from a movie. the day was cloudy and grey, providing the perfect atmosphere as you watched the empty coffin lower into the ground. tears fell from your eyes from behind the black veil you wore. your husband was dead.

the dirt was placed over the coffin, it was empty but it still brought pain to your heart. they hadn't even succeeded in finding a body to bring you closure. you didn't want to believe it but after the days passing turned into weeks and then into months the possibility of his death seemed more and more likely.

it was impossible for your mind to believe that albert wesker, the god of a man he was, could've died. his mortality never seemed to be a real factor in his life, you could've sworn he'd live forever.

the tombstone stated back at you, almost taunting you as you continued to read it over and over again.

in memory of albert wesker, a loving husband.

it felt official, he was gone. you couldn't help the tears that slipped from your face as you walked away from the grave as you went back to your car. almost as if the world around you knew how solemn of an occasion this was, the dark clouds began to let rain fall. it felt as though the sky was crying with you.

as you sat in the car, collecting yourself and wiping what tears remained in your eyes. you looked around briefly, you could've sworn you saw him. you blinked and he was gone.

your brain has to be playing tricks on you.

little do you know your husband was standing in the cemetery as you drove away. he approached the grave with a sigh. part of him couldn't help but wonder if it would be better to let himself die. he'd free you from the constant worry and the target that had been placed on your back when you married him but deep down no matter how selfish it may seem, he couldn't leave you.

you had found yourself back in the house you once shared with the love of your life, specifically you were curled up in his study. the study was truly his, his smell still lingered from the countless hours he spent slaving away at his research.

"oh albert, i wish you were here," you mumble into the couch that sat in his study. you had spent the nights following the news of his supposed death sleeping in this very room.

you were already drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion from crying finally taking its toll on your body. the front door unlocked and your ears barely picked up on it but your body was sent into full alert.

did whoever killed wesker decide to get you next?

you searched his office looking for anything you could use to defend yourself, settling on the fire poker. you tried to think of all the self defense tips your late husband had given you but all you could do is cower in a hiding spot by the door, hoping to maybe get the upper hand.

heavy footsteps approach and you raise the fire poker, bracing yourself to attack the intruder. the door opens and you swing, eyes closed as you wait for the impact.

"it's good to see you too, dear," a familiar voice speaks out.

your eyes open wide and you stare at the man in front of you. it was your husband, it was albert wesker. he had blocked your makeshift weapon with ease and it quickly slipped from your hands.

"albert? i thought you were..." you say, getting choked up as emotions overwhelm you. the blonde man pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tight as you begin to sob into his chest.

"shhh, i know," is all he can say as he jaw clenches shut. he's fighting his own tears at this point and he refuses to let that side of him slip, not now at least. you pull back, cupping his face as you cry. a smile crosses your face as you stare at him.

"it's you, it's really you," your tone is filled with disbelief and you can't help but pull him into a kiss. the kiss is desperate as you try to cement in your mind that this is real.

he kisses you back before pulling away, taking in your disheveled state. the two of you spend the next few hours in each other's arms in moments filled with love after he explains all he can about what happened.

his body is marked with horrendous burns that have torn away at his skin, albert won't let you see them. they're covered under numerous layers of bandages and he'd hate to hurt you anymore. albert's head rests on your chest as you comb through his blonde hair. you pretend not to notice when tears start to slip from his red fiery eyes.

his body is mangled and burnt and he's afraid. albert wesker is afraid of you leaving him, his body isn't the work of art it was before yet here he is in your arms.

you hum to him softly as you comb through his hair, you'll never understand how he managed to survive but you continue to thank any higher power for bringing him back to you. his breathing slows and albert wesker manages to fall asleep in your arms.

[silken-moonlight]

Vampire Yandere

Pairing: Male Vampire Lord x Female human herbalist (you)

Pronouns used for reader: You/Your (writing it Based on a female Reader, will try gn Reader in the future.

A/N: This is my first yandere writing. I do not know yet if I do like to write yandere or if I do it right. Anyways. Let us begin

______________________________________

As the moon shone gently down across the silent streets, you readied yourself. It was almost midnight, and the full moon climbed higher and higher in the firmament. You were out to harvest a very special flower: Crystallunar flowers. They only bloomed beneath the sixth full moon of a leap year, never in the same place twice. They could heal a great many illnesses. But you had found the place where they would bloom...your local cemetery.

To be honest, it felt a bit strange to you to walk out at midnight to harvest flowers at the cemetery. However, you knew the value of the crystallunar flowers was greater than a short moment of discomfort and awkwardness.

You slipped through the night; no one was outside, and the houses you passed were dark. No one else was still awake. Only the stars and the moon accompanied you on this night.

After a brisk walk, you reached the iron gate; it opened without a sound. Fortunately, the moon was bright enough, so you didn’t need a lantern. Even more quickly, you reached the field of flowers, taking out your sickle to harvest them. The moonlight was reflected by the metallic surface of the petals.

What you didn't realise was that you were watched. A pair of silver eyes followed your form as you sat in the midst of the flower field. He had only seen you once before. He, Lord Atlas Drakaron, gazed upon you when you rushed to aid a sick person in the middle of the night. Now, he saw you again....and if he learned something in his long long live....than that there were no coincedences.

You intrigued him; that was dangerous. His steps were silent as he walked closer. The breeze that caressed the flowers and you brought your scent to him... cool herbs and something else. Something welcoming, something... something else that he needed to have. Atlas licked his fangs. He took a step forward, and your gaze snapped to him.

You froze in your movement and looked at the man infront of you. Who was he? Where did he come from? So many question filled your mind at one.

Atlas, the undead heart, would race if he could. The thought of having a pretty meal vanished. Only one thought filled his mind: Mine. That look in your wary gray eyes, those plump lips, the blush on your cheeks... Atlas shuddered with the desire to have you. The desire became so overwhelming that he quickly walked away into the darkness and vanished.

But he was determiend to meet you again.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • XI

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loudThat we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 5.1k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter eleven - The Drain (EDITED: 09-03-24, not new new to the story!)

new? read from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

The three of us sat in silence, the trees above the courtyard singing with the autumn air. I spoke to them for a few more minutes. I tried to make it quick, knowing that if I stayed longer I wouldn't be able to leave.

“I hope you get to meet her someday,” I murmured as I stood, dusting off my pants.

“I’d like to hear about this girl.”

My stomach dropped as I whipped around in alarm, my heart thumping rapidly once I met his silver completion.

+++++

U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ

Soon, I’ll kill my final piece of evidence… and soon, I’ll have control of Fidelio.

+++++

RUFFILO

With my phone in hand, I paced back and forth across the room. Jolly and Folio’s eyes tracked my every movement, while Juice mewed from Folio’s lap. Despite their attempts to comfort me, not even a cute cat could cheer me up right now. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

I ran my thumb across the glass to refresh the app once more. No new messages. Clicking the call button for the hundredth time I almost screamed once it rang until voicemail again.

“Noah’s been gone for hours.” I swallowed harshly, “and there’s still no trace of Y/N.”

“Nicky-” Jolly began, standing up from the couch to place a soothing hand on my shoulder, stopping my pacing briefly, “I’m sure Noah’s fine- he’s probably freaking the fuck out looking for Y/N. Maybe even went to the cafe and Sammy’s to fill her bosses in…”

My stomach sunk at his words, and my mind began to race. Something didn’t feel right. I knew Noah, and something felt wrong. He told me he was going to go to the cemetery to clear his mind- and I don’t think he wouldn’t go find Y/N by himself, not after everything that happened. He knew we were stronger in a group.

I shook my head, refreshing my phone for the hundredth time before moaning in frustration, “No. I think he’s in trouble.”

“He’s probably still at the cemetery,” Nick reassured me, standing up with Juice in his arms.

“Can we go look?” I asked, eying both of them as I pressed call, ringing Noah again. No answer.

“He took Y/N’s car so we’d have to walk…” Jolly groaned.

Nick snorted, “Walking is for plebs. Let’s just Uber.”

“Really?” I sighed, giving my brothers a look of relief that they’d come with me.

Jolly laughed, patting my back as we grabbed our shoes, “If it eases your mind seeing him talking to some headstones, then let’s go.”

I threw him a look, glaring, “You know it’s not just any headstone.”

“I know, Nicholas. I know.” Jolly reassured me and I nodded curtly.

After half an hour, we reached the cemetery and I noticed that Y/N's car was still parked in the lot. My mind filled with a glimmer of hope as we walked down the unkempt path. However, the atmosphere was stagnant and my throat tightened with anxiousness. As we approached Noah's parents' plot, my hope faded away as there was no sign of him anywhere.

“I don’t see him,” I mumbled, walking with haste down the path.

The graves were now in sight and I sucked in a breath, shaking my head. Even though the car was still there, something was wrong.

There was a fresh set of white flowers scattered across the front of the graves, the vase that normally sat between the stones lying on the drying grass.

“He could have just left,” Nick chimed in, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Without the car?” I shrugged him off, pointing at the flowers, “He wouldn’t have laid them out like that. Why is the vase knocked onto the ground?”

Squinting my eyes at something that lay a few feet away from the stone, I felt my chest warm, and my head began to shake. My limbs halted and I watched Jolly brush past me, his head tilting as he bent down, picking up the black object.

“Is this-” He began, flipping it in his hand, inspecting the singular sneaker.

“Noah’s,” I said, my stomach dropping.

Folio shrugged, “It could be anyone’s.”

I reached for the shoe, pointing to the hole that was beginning to form on the toe, “No this is one hundred percent Noah’s- the hole forming? He’s had this pair of vans for over a year. Plus, they’re a size twelve.” I peeled back the tongue, analyzing the faded tag.

“How would he lose a shoe here?” Folio asked.

“He wouldn’t,” Jolly said, looking around the cemetery, his body turning quickly as he scoped out the trees, “He would have taken it off on purpose.”

I turned around, my mind beginning to spiral. First Y/N, now Noah.

He had to have been taken.

“Do you think he’s leaving a clue?” I whispered, staring at my brothers before glancing at the grass, my feet carrying me further into the cemetery.

“Those twins must’ve taken him,” Folio spit angrily, his fists clenching.

I watched Jolly as he leaned around the headstones, his fingers tracing the rock for any signs Noah may have left, before picking up one of the flowers. He twirled it between the pad of his thumb and index finger, staring at the dishevelled petals.

“There aren’t enough flowers here to be a full bouquet, and some of the petals are ripped…” Jolly’s eyes locked with mine briefly before I scanned the ground and trees, landing on a speck of white in the distance.

I pointed as my feet carried me towards the spec, “There.”

A few petals were dispersed down the path, and as I peered ahead, another sprinkle of white caught my gaze.

“I think he’s left a trail,” I said, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes widened, fear sinking in.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Nick jogged up to me, pushing my shoulder to send me forward.

The three of us ventured deeper into the graveyard, passing various weathered tombstones, and surveying the ground every few feet for new petals. The further we walked, the more sparse the trail became. Eventually, it stopped altogether.

“Should we keep going?” Jolly asked, pointing to the gate that was open at the back of the cemetery.

Shrugging my shoulders, I kept walking, “We might as well.”

As we approached the gate, I felt a chill run down my spine. The rusted iron creaked ominously in the wind, and beyond it lay a dense thicket of trees. The forest looked dark and uninviting, but I knew we had to press on.

"I don't like this," Folio muttered, his eyes darting nervously from side to side.

"Me neither," I admitted, "but we have to find Noah."

We stepped through the gate, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. The trees loomed over us, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. I strained my eyes, searching for any sign of white petals or a clue from Noah.

Suddenly, Jolly grabbed my arm. "Look!" he hissed, pointing to a nearby tree.

There, caught on a low-hanging branch, was a scrap of fabric.

+++++

Y/N

The lights in the room flickered, casting a yellow hue that created eerie shadows against the walls and made my head spin. The air was heavy and damp, permeated by a sense of despair that seemed to cling to every surface.

I coughed, my eyes burning from tears as I lay on the bed in the motel room. My limbs were bound tightly, and I struggled against the ropes for what felt like the hundredth time. Each tug only caused the rope to dig deeper into the wound it had created.

It had only been two days since I arrived here, but it felt like an eternity. Two days of pure agony and torture.

The door of the motel room clicked open, and I reflexively tensed up. But my fear quickly faded when I saw that it was Kiean. He came in holding a bag of fast food, and the delicious smell immediately made my stomach grumble. I tried to hide my hunger by swallowing hard and pushing away the urge to eat. But my stomach betrayed me with loud noises as Kiean locked the door and glanced at me with concern. "Are you going to finally give in and have something to eat?" he asked, tossing the key onto the rickety table by the wall. I avoided eye contact, keeping my mouth shut and refusing to engage in conversation.

The blonde walked over to me, the ice in the soft drink chittering against the paper cup as he placed it on the nightstand. He then opened the brown paper bag, pulling out some fries and some chicken strips.

Kiean's attempt at a smile was met with me turning my head away. He let out another sigh and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I struggled against the rope holding me still, trying to distance myself from him, but my leg remained pressed against his back. The contact only fueled my anger.

"I even made sure to get your favourite sauce."

Old friends, same disease I'm killing myself again Old friends, same to me I can't get away from it

With a stern look, I directed my gaze towards him as my stomach grumbled once more. The tantalizing aroma of greasy food wafted in the air, making me feel even more sick with hunger. My throat was parched from lack of water. Kiean's eyes followed me with worry as he removed the wrapper from the straw and dipped it into the beverage before holding it up to my lips.

"Please drink, Y/N," he urged me.

The paper brushed against my lips and I squeezed them together, closing my eyes in resentment. He held the cup for almost a minute before I broke, taking the straw into my mouth and sucking up the liquid. I downed the entire thing, gasping for air once I stopped.

“Thank you,” Kiean murmured, opening the box of chicken strips and sauce. I tugged at the rope again before wincing as it dug into the laceration that formed.

Kiean’s brows furrowed as he stared at my wrist, before holding the strip to my mouth for me. No longer able to resist I took a bite and almost moaned at the flavour, swallowing greedily.

“Stop tugging on the rope,” He almost pleaded, “I’m sorry it’s hurting you. Kade would kill me if I took them off.”

Old friends are just a memory That I didn't need

His green eyes bore into me with unease, “You know how he is.” Yeah, I do.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while as he fed me. I was grateful for the food nonetheless, despite them kidnapping me and tying me to a bed frame. I don’t think I could have made it much longer without eating.

One question frequented my mind, and as much as I didn’t want to talk, I knew that deep down I was safer with Kiean than his brother; and I was afraid that at any moment, he would step through the door.

“Where is Kade?”

Kiean’s head snapped toward me in shock, surprised that I finally spoke.

“Oh- he’s out right now,” Kiean shrugged, turning his gaze to the floor, “I think he’s looking for your boyfriend.”

My heart clenched in worry, mind wandering to Noah and the boys. Were they okay after the crash? Were they hurt?

Were they looking for me?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumbled, staring at the blonde. He turned to face me, eyes analyzing my expression. His pupils dilated in knowing, his stillness a telltale sign he knew something was up.

Kiean was always able to read through me.

“But you have feelings for him,” He said as we watched each other, the gaze between us speaking for me.

I tried my best to remain stiff, but I nodded, tears beginning to well in my eyes.

“I know why you left Y/N,” Kiean looked away, looking at his hands that were folded in his lap, playing with his fingers, “and I don’t blame you for leaving.”

“I couldn’t handle it anymore. So many people were hurt. So many people dead.” I whispered, my voice wavering. I blinked in an attempt to hide my tears, but that only made them fall down the skin of my cheeks.

Kiean picked at his nails, “I’m not gonna lie, you fucked us over.”

My mouth formed a straight line as I stared at the patterned bedsheets.

“The whole syndicate fell once you left. Matt followed. Then Orie, then Bryan. Our organization collapsed after you disappeared…and the Rule Maker took over. You know how much that would have pissed Kade off.”

My body stiffened at the mention of the Rule Maker. He was the biggest crime syndicate in North America other than us; always trying to take Fidelio down.

“Once business shifted and we tried building up again- but since we lost the crew it was almost impossible. We became petty dealers for a bit, but no one wanted to deal with Kade anymore. So, we’ve been working under the Rule Maker as the foxes.” Kiean sighed.

“And he’s blamed me for everything,” I laughed bitterly.

Kiean nodded, “I mean, our business fell apart once you left Y/N. We have nothing now.”

“So you blame me too?” I asked, glaring at him. Kiean didn’t say anything.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t want to be part of that shitty lifestyle anymore. I was tired of being used, and I was tired of being part of a problem,” my voice began to rise, “So many people got hurt, and I did some heinous things. I needed out, especially after everything with Kade happened.”

“Kade has issues, I know… but he loves you Y/N-”

“Oh fuck off!” I yelled, my body pulling against the restraints in frustration, “Don’t you dare say he loves me.”

My chest heaved as venomous words left my tongue, “What he did to me was not love. I wish he was dead.”

“Look-” Kiean placed a hand on my own, which caused me to flinch. I tried pulling away, but couldn’t due to the ropes grasp, “I know you’re angry. You hate him, and you hate me, but we need your help.”

“Why would I ever help you,” my teeth clenched in animosity.

Kiean watched me carefully, “You put that mask back on for your friend.”

I avoided his gaze once again.

“You knew we’d be able to find you, and you knew Kade would come in a heartbeat…So why did you risk everything you ran from, for him? If you were so done with this life, why are you willing to return for this guy?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, “He needed help.”

“Y/N,” Kiean’s green irises begged, “If you’re willing to help someone you just met, can’t you help us? Help me?”

Kiean knew he was my weakness. He had always been there to save me from Kade’s hands. He protected me and kept me safe, despite how awful life was back in Canada. He was my best friend. He was my brother.

“We’re going to take down the Rule Maker,” He said firmly, standing up from the bed now.

“Excuse me?” I scoffed, a laugh almost escaping my lips from disbelief, “What?”

Kiean turned to the closer in the motel room, pulling out three fox head masks. Kiean’s, Kade’s, and…

“Yours,” Kiean said, holding up one of the masks. The silver paint glinted slightly from the flickering yellow motel light.

“We need your help, just this one last time. I promise we’ll leave your life for good if you help us.”

I stared at the mask, almost rolling my eyes, “And if I say no?”

The motel door opened, and I sucked in an anxious breath. Kade slammed the door, his expression furious as his sweat-stained hair hung over his forehead. My limbs warmed nervously as my lungs collapsed, air unable to escape.

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away

Had he been listening this whole time?

“Then I’ll kill you, and your little fuck toy,” Kade seethed, lifeless orbs glaring in my direction.

Watching as it circles in the drain With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

+++++

NOAH

It was the fear of the unknown that amplified the sense of vulnerability and helplessness I felt. Being at the mercy of someone else and unable to anticipate their next move, left me terrified and completely hopeless.

The blindfold that covered my vision left me anxious as my body thrashed back and forth from the restraints that tied my arms back, the metal cold against my skin. As I attempted to wiggle free the chains that held me swung against the chair, clanging in my ears. The wind whistled around the building I must’ve been in, causing me to shiver.

I screamed angrily, swinging aimlessly before the chair toppled over and I landed on the cement ground with a thud, the side of my head smacking into the pavement.

I didn’t necessarily believe in a God- but I prayed.

I prayed that Y/N was okay and that she knew I was sorry for everything.

I prayed that whatever happened to me, my brothers knew I loved them. Knew how sorry I was that our lives were ruined because of me.

I prayed that they would be able to find the trail I left behind.

Old friends, same disease I can't get away from it Old friends, same as enemies

“There’s no way you pulled that pharmacy heist off by yourself,” Anger seeped through every word, every syllable.

“Who is she?”

I laughed, my body aching against the ground as I continued wrestling the chains, “You underestimating me?”

The man growled, pushing my face into the cement forcefully, causing me to laugh in resentment. Even through the blindfold, I could tell a snarle was embedded on his face.

“I stole your fucking car at fourteen. I can do anything I need to myself.”

“You sure about that?” I felt my body swing back up from the ground, two sets of hands sitting me upright in the chair.

“Who was wearing the Volto mask?”

I'm killing myself again I'm killing myself again I'm killing myself

“Fuck that I know,” I jeered, “What’s with the theatrics of all this?”

With my question ignored, I felt something cold and sharp press against my arm, “How do you know Y/N Y/L/N?”

I tried to not let my sarcastic smile fade at the mention of her name, “Who?”

“I’m not stupid boy,” The man yelled, a stinging warmth bolting up my arm, causing me to scream.

“Fuck!” I hollered, attempting to pull away, but I couldn’t move, nor see. Hands held my shoulders in place.

“I did some digging. You didn’t just break into her house, No,” he laughed, “No, you’ve been living there.”

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away Watching as it circles in the drain

Why was he asking about the mask and Y/N?

My mind wandered back to Vincent, recalling our conversation days prior.

“Heads, you tell me about your little friend Y/N.”

My gaze narrowed and my fists clenched at the mention of her name. What did he want with Y/N?

“Tails, you tell me about your masked friend.”

Vincent said his boss wanted to know.

“So tell me,” I felt the blade dance across my skin, threatening, “Is she my missing mask?”

With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

+++++

RUFFILO

As we strolled down the street, Folio turned to me with a curious expression. "Do you have any theories about who Y/N might be?" I shook my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he mused, "because two masked men chased us and kidnapped both Y/N and Noah and now she's revealed herself as a badass hacker and thief? That doesn't sound like your average barista if you ask me."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. The only thing she ever mentioned was that she was trying to escape her past and feared being judged…and that she knows some pretty dangerous people.”

“She took us in without a thought,” Jolly piped in, “She had to have had a similar lifestyle. No one would just take in a group of criminals.” He then stopped walking, reaching into his pocket.

Jolly stared at his screen confused, the device vibrating with a surprising name dancing on the screen, “Vincent?”

Putting the phone against his ear he watched us, a confused look glazing over his features. I stood closer to him, trying to listen in on the conversation. Jolly rolled his eyes, pushing me gently.

“Fuck you calling me for? I don’t have shit bro.”

“Yo, you know where Noah is? Did this asshole flake?”

“Why?” Jolly asked, “You were supposed to meet him?”

“Yea, he had more shit for me- didn’t show up at the ally. Thought that maybe I scared him off since the last time we talked.”

“Well, he didn’t show up because he’s fucking missing.”

“Missing? The hell you mean missing.”

“Missing as in we have no idea where the fuck he is, and we think he was kidnapped; so your deal’s gonna have to wait.”

“Wait- I think I know who may have taken him.”

Immediately I stepped back to share a look with Jolly and Nick. Did Vincent know the twins?

“Shit I gotta go. Meet me at the pier in 20.”

I heard the phone beep and Jolly stared at the screen in confusion, “Folio?”

Nick hummed, “What?”

“Did Noah ever use his first name when dealing with Vincent?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, shaking his head, “Pretty sure I told him to just go by Sebastian.”

Jolly shoved his phone back into his pocket, pushing past us and walking quickly down the street, “Seems to me Vincent may be more involved in this.”

+

We hurriedly made our way to the pier, trying to cover the long distance in just twenty minutes. Walking was not ideal, but it was our only option as the cemetery was too far for a quick drive. The wind picked up, sending cold droplets of water flying towards us and making me shiver. As we reached the pier, I noticed a man leaning against the wooden railing, gazing out at the water. He turned towards us with a small smile and stood up straight.

“Jolly? Folio?” He acknowledged them, and Jolly whistled in response.

“Strange seeing you unmasked.”

“Well, I’m not going to wear it where everyone can see us,” He threw his hood over his head, shielding himself from the wind.

“So what do you mean you think you know who took Noah?” I asked.

He looked at me, thick brows sitting heavily above his eyes, “Who are you?”

“Nicholas. Ruffilo.”

“Ah,” Vincent mumbled, “The one that convinced Jolly to stop selling to me in the first place all those years ago.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Jolly placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.

“It was a mutual agreement, Vince. You know why we stopped, we got a new boss.”

“Yeah, whatever,” He huffed, leaning against the railing once again, “Well speaking of bosses, I think mine took him.”

“Is your boss a set of twins that wear these stupid fox masks?” Nick asked.

Vincent laughed, raising a brow, “Uh, no. But that’s interesting.”

Jolly, Nick and I looked at each other. So who took him if it wasn’t the twins?

“Whois he?” I asked.

With a shrug, Vincent turned to look out at the water again, “I dunno. I’ve never met him before, and we only communicate through his little henchmen. We call him the Rule Maker.”

“The Rule Maker?” Jolly chuckled for a moment, but then his smile quickly faded. “Wait, are you talking about THE Rule Maker?”

“Who's that?” I asked, feeling out of the loop.

Folio ran his fingers through his hair. “Only the biggest drug lord in North America.”

“Well, why would he kidnap Noah? We haven't been involved in anything related to drugs in years, except for the last month,” I said.

Vincent shrugged. “I was interrogated by one of his henchmen the other day. He wanted information about the person who helped him with the heist since they were wearing a mask belonging to the missing member of Fidelio.”

I quickly glanced at Folio and Jolly, making eye contact with both of them.

“Fidelio- isn't that a drug syndicate in Canada?” asked Jolly.

Vincent confirmed, “Yeah, it is. That was the first time we saw that mask in months. Then my boss started asking about some woman named Y/N Y/L/N.”

My brothers and I all had the same reaction: wide eyes and physically turning to face each other.

“So you do know her,” Vincent concluded.

“I mean-” Nick scratched his neck.

“Well, my boss knows her. He has been looking for her for years,” Vincent sighed, “So, Sebastian knows Y/N, and has a connection to the Volto mask. Yada yada, the boss wants answers that I couldn’t get out of Noah the other day. So he probably took him.”

I ran a hand over my face, groaning audibly. This is bad.

Jolly stared at me concerned, “Y/N is the missing member of Fidelio. The timeline would add up.” Fuck.

“Interesting,” Vincent chimed in, “So it’s the same person. That girl is the mask.”

“Well, did your boss say how he knows her?” Nick questioned.

The dealer shook his head, “Nope. And I don’t know where Sebastian would be either- but I think that’s who took him.”

“Why are you helping us?” I said warily.

Vincent smiled, his grillz shining against the setting sun, “Well, he provided good business. I got paid well.”

“I don’t know how we are supposed to find him though,” Nick said, “We were following a trail of flowers for a bit.”

Wait… following…

“Oh my god,” I smacked my forehead in annoyance, “Our trackers!” I lifted my pant leg, showing it off to the boys.

I wasn’t sure how we didn’t realize it sooner, but Noah still had his tracker attached to his ankle. At least, I hoped.

“How are we supposed to track it? It was Y/N who had the system,” Jolly said.

“Noah’s number might still be on her laptop. It’s worth a shot.”

+++++

Y/N

Kade sat across the room and asked, "Where is your laptop?" He slumped back in his chair and gave me a cold glare.

"Why would I tell you?" I retorted.

He chuckled, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "Do you have a death wish?"

I snarled at him, "It's not my fault you didn't secure your system properly. Figure it out on your own."

"Well, I didn't expect you to betray me and erase everything." His smile was pathetic and devoid of any warmth.

“Y/N,” Kiean pleaded, and I rolled my head to look at him. He sat on the other bed, eyes begging, “Just cooperate. Like I said, if you help we will leave your life forever.”

“How am I supposed to know that’ll happen?” I mocked, “You chased me and my friends, almost killed us in a car crash with guns, and fucking kidnapped me?”

The room was silent for a moment before Kade spoke up.

“I just want my fucking business back.” He growled, “So like I said, help me, or he is dead.”

I swallowed harshly, knowing that Kade’s threats were never empty. He always followed through with them, and I know he most certainly would kill him.

I didn’t want to help them… but I didn’t want to risk Noah’s life.

“It’s at my place,” I sighed.

Kade stood up, clapping his hands together, which caused me to close my eyes and flinch, “Then let’s go.”

+

We arrived at my house in a rental car that the Twins had gotten for us. I fidgeted with the bandages on my wrists, wincing as I did so, grateful for Kiean's care to prevent infection. My stomach churned as we parked outside of my front door; part of me hoped that the boys would be there to rescue me from this mess, but another part feared for their safety if they were there.

“Are your boyfriend’s minions home?” Kade spat, turning off the engine.

"How am I supposed to know? I've been held captive," I retorted with a sneer. Kiean gave me a pointed look, and I rolled my eyes before the three of us made our way to the door. Kade had taken my key and unlocked the house, stepping inside silently. The twins listened for any signs of movement, and I scanned the area, noting that the boys' shoes were missing.

“I don’t think they’re home,” I said. The twins nodded to each other, following me up the stairs to my room. Juice mewed behind, following us.

Once we entered I went to my desk, pulling the laptop off the charger. I handed it to Kiean who opened it, prompting me to type in my password.

“So now what?” I asked just before the front door opened.

The twins glanced at each other, holding a finger to their lips and my breath quickened, listening to the voices of the boys. They were here.

“So where is her laptop?”

“Probably upstairs. C’mon.”

Was Noah here too?

The shuffle of various sets of footsteps ran up the stairs and as soon as Folio turned the corner he let out a surprised yelp when our eyes met briefly.

“Y/N!” He screamed, taking a step forward before Kade cocked his pistol, holding it straight ahead.

“What the fuck-” I heard Ruffilo and saw him peer behind the corner, his eyes widening once he saw me.

Kade grabbed my wrist tightly, causing me to wince in pain. "Move, or I'll shoot," he threatened as we passed by Folio and Ruffilo with their hands raised in surrender. He dragged me out of the room, past the boys, and into a hallway where I saw Jolly waiting. But then, my eyes locked with a stranger's gaze and I didn't see Noah anywhere nearby.

I pulled against Kade as he tried prying me down the stairs, gun still pointed toward the boys.

“Wait-” I begged, causing Kade to stop, “Where’s Noah?”

As I stared up at Ruffilo from the stairs his gaze made my heart sink.

“He was kidnapped,” Ruffilo muttered.

“C’mon,” Kade spoke through gritted teeth, giving zero fucks about Noah. We reached the bottom of the stairs and Kiean pushed me softly toward the door.

“What?” I yelled back, complete worry taking over me, “By who?”

"The Rule Maker," Jolly hollered back, his voice carrying through the hall. The twins stopped in their tracks, their faces mirroring a mix of surprise and uncertainty as they exchanged a glance with each other.

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away Watching as it circles in the drain With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

Chapter 12 - Coming Soon

(New story parts chapter 12+, no longer re-edited work)

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[zapreportsblog]

Jacob Black with an imprint fighting cancer. He is allowed to take her to the beach as long as she doesn't overdo it and stays warm(which is easy with a wolf like him). I'd love for her to be plus size if you don't mind? Please and thank you!!

This is wonderful, I liked Jacob when I first seen him. You know with the long hair so this goes well with that idea

↳ the night we met ↲

✭ pairing : jacob black x plus size reader

✭ fandom : twilight x plus size reader

✭ summary : (y/n) is fighting cancer but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy her last moments with her special person

✭ authors note : fluff in the end but this will be sad, I’m listening to the night we met so I’m basing this fic off that and I almost cried but mama ain’t raise a bitch, she raised a sensitive thug

✭ twilight masterlist

The sky was overcast, matching the somber mood that hung heavy in the air. Mourners dressed in black gathered around the grave, their faces etched with grief. Jacob Black stood among them, his heart weighed down by the overwhelming sorrow that had enveloped the day. The funeral service for (y/n) had just concluded, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

As the preacher's final words echoed, the casket was slowly lowered into the ground. Tears glistened in Jacob's eyes as he stared at the polished wooden box that held the remains of the person he had loved with all his heart. (y/n), his confidante, his friend, his love—now gone from his world.

He clenched his fists, the pain in his chest nearly suffocating. The reality of her absence hit him with an unrelenting force. The world had lost a beautiful soul, a radiant light that had brought warmth and happiness to those around her. And now, she was gone, taken away by the cruel grasp of cancer.

As the mourners began to disperse, offering condolences and whispered words of comfort, Jacob lingered by the grave. Alone in his grief, he felt the weight of loss like a physical burden. He reached out to touch the cool earth, as if trying to grasp at some connection to her.

His anguish built up like a storm within him, and he couldn't contain it any longer. He fell to his knees beside the freshly filled grave, his sobs escaping in ragged breaths. The tears streamed down his face, a torrent of pain that he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Please," he choked out between broken sobs, his voice carrying a desperation that echoed through the empty cemetery. "Bring her back... please."

His words were a heartbreaking plea, a futile cry to the universe to undo the unfairness that had robbed him of (y/n). He clung to the hope that somehow, some way, his anguished cries would reach her, that the love he felt for her could transcend the boundaries of life and death.

But the wind carried his words away, and the world remained silent, indifferent to his agony. The reality was stark—he was utterly alone in his grief, surrounded by the memories of a love that had been too brief.

Hours passed as Jacob knelt by the grave, his tears eventually spent, his heart aching with a hollowness that seemed insurmountable. The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery.

With a heavy heart, Jacob rose to his feet, his movements slow and weary. He cast one last longing gaze at the grave that held (y/n)'s body, a silent goodbye to the person who had meant everything to him.

Turning away, he walked toward the exit of the cemetery, the weight of loss a burden that he would carry with him forever. The world moved on, oblivious to his pain, while he remained haunted by memories and the echo of his unanswered pleas.

The wind whipped through Jacob's hair as he stood on the edge of the cliff, his heart heavy with grief. The crashing waves below matched the tumultuous emotions that swirled within him. His mind was a whirlwind of memories, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost.

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the image of (y/n)'s face in his mind. The curve of her smile, the warmth in her eyes—the memories were both a comfort and a torment. Their last moments together replayed in his thoughts like a broken record, each detail etched into his memory.

He could hear her laughter, feel the weight of her hand in his. They had walked along the shore, the ocean breeze ruffling their hair. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water. It had been a moment of peace, a fleeting respite from the pain that had consumed them.

"(y/n)," he whispered, his voice carried away by the wind. He could almost feel her presence beside him, as if she were standing there, offering him solace. But the truth was that she was gone, taken from him by an unforgiving illness.

His grip tightened on the edge of the cliff as his grief threatened to overwhelm him. He could hear her laughter, see her smile, but the reality was that she was no longer there. The emptiness in his chest was a constant ache, a reminder of the love that had been torn away from him.

As he looked out at the vast expanse of the ocean, he felt a strange mix of longing and despair. His heart yearned for the moments they had shared, the love they had built, and the future they had planned. But the reality was that she was gone, and he was left standing on the precipice of a world that felt impossibly empty without her.

He took a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he clung to the memories. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite their story, change the ending. But life didn't work that way, and the pain of loss was a reality he couldn't escape.

With tears in his eyes, Jacob took one last look at the ocean, his heart heavy with the weight of his emotions. He whispered her name once more, a desperate plea for the universe to hear his longing. And then, with a heavy heart, he jumped off the cliff thinking of how they could finally be together.

**Flashback:**

The sterile smell of the hospital surrounded Jacob as he walked down the white corridor. His steps were purposeful, each one carrying the weight of the worry that had become a constant companion. The sound of his sneakers echoed against the tiled floor, a steady rhythm that matched the beat of his anxious heart.

He pushed open the door to (y/n)'s room, his expression softening as he saw her lying on the hospital bed. Tubes and wires were connected to her, a reminder of the battle she was fighting against the cancer that had taken hold of her body. Despite the pale skin and tired eyes, there was a determination in her gaze that hadn't dimmed.

"Hey," he greeted softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

(y/n) turned her head toward him, her lips curving into a weak smile. "Hey, Jacob."

He walked over to her bedside, the concern in his eyes evident. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, a mix of resignation and frustration crossing her features. "Same old, same old."

Jacob reached out and took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet comforting. "Well, I'm here to change that. How about we get out of here for a little while?"

(y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise. "You got permission?"

Jacob nodded, his smile growing. "Nurses and your parents both said it's okay. We just have to make sure you don't overdo it and stay warm."

Her smile widened, the anticipation of leaving the confines of the hospital room lifting her spirits. "You're the best, you know that?"

He chuckled softly. "Just doing what I can."

With the help of the nurses, they got (y/n) dressed and ready to go. She was bundled up in a warm coat and scarf that hugged her luscious plumped frame, her weak but determined steps leading them out of the hospital and into the crisp air. The sunlight felt rejuvenating against her skin, and the simple act of being outside was a breath of fresh air she desperately needed.

They walked slowly down the sidewalk, their conversation light and easy. They talked about anything and everything—school, their friends, their dreams for the future. It was a welcome distraction from the harsh reality of (y/n)'s illness, a chance to feel like a normal teenager for a brief moment.

Eventually, they reached the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the air. Jacob spread out a blanket on the sand, and they sat down side by side, gazing out at the expanse of the ocean.

"It's beautiful," (y/n) murmured, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

Jacob nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it is."

As they sat in comfortable silence, the weight of (y/n)'s illness seemed to momentarily fade away. The salty breeze ruffled their hair, and the sound of the waves was soothing. For that brief moment, they were just two teenagers enjoying a day at the beach, lost in the beauty of the world around them.

And as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the water, (y/n) couldn't help but feel grateful for Jacob's presence. He was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there were moments of light and hope. And as they watched the sun dip below the horizon, she knew that she wasn't alone in this fight—that Jacob would be by her side, every step of the way.

“You’ll get better,” Jacob says whiles holding her own smaller but chubby hands. It was warm. “I know you will.”

**End of Flashback**

[twistedinthreads]

Lost In The Labyrinth

Felix Catton x Fem!Reader

one | two

Part 3.

You came to Oxford to get away from America; from your mother's fame and the ghosts of your past. You get more than you bargained for when you meet Felix.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: drugs, alcohol, Oliver Quick mention, unprotected sex, breeding kink (kind of? I guess?), Christmas party, brief mention of Christmas, but it's not really specified if reader celebrates or not, brief mention of visiting a cemetery, dead sister, making out, reader being an idiot, reader is American, reader is kind of a nepo baby

Playlist (a work in progress!)

A/N: More sweet Felix. I wanted to keep going but it just felt right to end it here, so that's why it's a little bit shorter.

The Christmas party is more of the same; you snort a line with Farleigh in the bathroom and dance around with Vera to the music you’ve always claimed to hate. Everyone’s decked out in their attire, a sea of Santa hats and a blur of tinsel all around you while the DJ plays solely Christmas music. Someone definitely spiked the punch, and it’s got you all buzzed, though you elect to drink less, given the incident a few weeks ago. 

“I’m gonna go hang out in the rec room for a minute,” you yell into Vera’s ear over the music. She nods, knowing what you’re truly saying; I’m feeling overwhelmed and need a second. 

There’s a couple sitting on the couch making out in the vending machine light, but even more noticeable than that, Oliver Quick is playing a game of one person pool, shooting and then moving to the other side, a nearly pathetic display. You share a class with him, had been paired up for a project at the beginning of the year, and whenever you see him you strike up small talk, even when Michael Gavey burns holes in your skin with his stare. They’re usually together, which is why you find it strange that he’s all alone.

You walk over to him and observe him for a few seconds before speaking.

“Hey there,” he jumps and turns to you, giving you a shy smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“‘S’alright,” he mutters. 

“You should come party with us,” you invite. It’s the nice thing to do, and Oliver’s been nothing but polite to you. Sure, you caught him staring at your tits once, but he’s a guy, so it’s less than surprising. “Everyone is really drunk and really keyed up… and there’s a cheese tray.” it’s almost comical, you in your cocktail dress covered in tinsel, standing here asking the loner to come to the party across the hall. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” he shakes his head. “I’m uh, I’m good here.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Okay. Suit yourself then.” 

You fish out a couple dollars and get yourself a Coke from the vending machine, and then lean up against it while you drink, trying to avert your gaze from the kissing couple. It reminds you; you’d come with Felix, but have barely seen him the whole night, and your heart aches to be in his light, in his kind and welcoming presence. 

“Bye, Oliver,” you wave at him as you exit the room, making your way back to the party once you’ve sobered up a bit and finished your soda. He waves back, lips pursed as he goes back to his solo game of pool. 

Felix spots you immediately, eyes lighting up when he sees you. He yells your name across the room, and like a magnet, you run to him as he opens his arms for you to walk into. 

“There you are!” He exclaims. “Been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Sorry, needed a second,” you murmur as he lays kisses in your hair. Vera had made easy work of weaving silver tinsel through it to match your dress, easily swiping glittery eyeshadow across your lids to go along with it all. She’d even leant you some cheap earrings that looked like ornament bulbs. “I’m tired.”

“This party’s kinda lame,” he laments, rubbing your shoulder blade. “Wanna get out of here?”

Neither of you are drunk, just buzzed, mood heightened. The cocaine has mostly worn off, and now it’s just the beers working themselves through your system. Your kisses are languid, moving through the room without disconnecting from him. You push him down on your bed and crawl up his long body, your dress riding up as you sling a leg over his body to be fully straddling him. You lean down again, grabbing his pretty face in your hands, continuing to kiss him. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs when you pull away to unbutton his shirt. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He helps you take off your dress, and the two of you shift positions, your body caged underneath him as he so delicately kisses your cheeks and neck. “Fe?”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he kisses between your breasts. 

“Fuck me,” and he moans, abandoning the kisses across your belly to kiss you hard on the mouth again. 

The sex is rough, his hips thrusting quickly as you grind back onto his cock. Your arms are thrown around his neck loosely, and he makes quick work of kissing your neck and face as he moans, your sweat mixing together when he rests his forehead against yours, mouth curled into a snarl. 

“I’m close,” he announces, and the tone of it makes you moan. “I’m close.”

“You can come inside me,” you groan. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Please.”

You feel yourself on the edge, stars bursting on the edge of your vision, your entire body tingling and legs shaking with the impact of it all, and you gasp out words that feel forbidden, words that you can’t control. It’s a strangled I love you, and you don’t even realize that you’ve said it until his mouth opens in a moan. 

You slap a hand over your mouth, and Felix looks at you with so much softness, just before he spills himself inside of you. You groan as he pulls out of you and rolls to the side, and you quickly move to get up out of his bed. 

“I should go,” you mutter quickly. 

“Woah, love, it’s okay!” He grabs for your arm, but you pull it away, hiding your embarrassment.

“Felix, I really have to go,” you don’t. You could use the studying excuse, your final two exams coming up on Monday, but you’ll just slink back to your dorm and go to bed, overthinking it all. You know you will. “I’ll talk to you later-“

“At least let me clean you up,” his big brown eyes plead with you, and you relent. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a towel, wiping you off gently as he presses kisses on your forehead. He doesn’t speak, though, and you sigh in relief at the fact. Once he’s done, he presses one final kiss to your forehead, and you pull your underwear and dress back on. 

“Please just talk to me,” he begs from the bed. “Please? We won’t see each other for a month and we should have a conversation.” 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” it comes out quickly, almost garbled, and you don’t bother to pull on your silver heels, carrying them instead in your fingers as you make quick work of getting out of there, muttering fuck repeatedly as you leave his building. 

He comes to your door a couple hours later and you pretend to be asleep, the knocks on your door making your head pound even more as you overthink. He texts you, you don’t reply, and he backs off, not wanting to be a creep. 

He tries again on Tuesday, but you’re already halfway across the Atlantic when he comes knocking. 

He calls during break, you don’t answer. You put your mind on other things, like your mother’s Christmas dinner party and your father’s New Year’s bash with the remaining crew from the show he’s shooting. It feels like a movie, sitting around, skulking while he tries to reach you. One voicemail in particular sticks in your mind, the one where he calls you baby, and it sounds so saccharine sliding off of his tongue. 

Come on, baby. This is stupid! We need to talk about this.

Your stepsister takes you to the AMC on 42nd Street on Christmas, and afterwards, as you sit at a tiny Chinese restaurant feasting on crab rangoons and soup, she tells you to get your shit together. You still don’t reach out. 

Your break is uneventful. You visit your sister’s grave in Montauk the morning before you leave for Carolina, and you spend days sitting on the beach at your dad’s house, despite the cold. 

You have one thing on your mind as you return to Oxford. Your campus is littered with students, all excited to be back with one another, refreshed and ready for new classes. Your flight arrived late, and students mill about the quad, showing off their expensive Christmas presents. A couple people shout your name, and you wave politely before launching toward Felix’s building, praying he’s in his room. 

You knock, shifting from foot to foot with your hands entwined, rubbing your thumb across your palm. 

The creak of the door opening has your stomach churning, and as he reveals himself, hair mussed up, in nothing but a pair of boxers, you can’t help it. You lunge forward and kiss him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking idiot,” you say after you pull away, and he’s grinning like a fool. 

“Yeah,” he whispers as he grabs your elbow gently, ushering you inside. “A little bit.” It makes you pout.

“I was so embarrassed,” you admit as you sit on the bed with him. “Like, who does that? It just came out, and I couldn’t control it, and I felt so stupid afterwards because we’re not even together like that-“

“We could be,” he interrupts, the words so nonchalant you wonder if you heard him right. 

“Huh?” 

“We could be together,” he shrugs. “I thought about asking you that night but you just ran off, so…”

“I didn’t want you to think you had to say it back if you didn’t mean it,” you say, playing with his fingers. “Lana told me to get my shit together but I didn’t wanna talk about this over the phone.”

He grabs your face, looking straight into your eyes. “I would’ve said it back that night. I would have. Because I do love you. I didn’t know if it was just an in the moment thing.” 

“It wasn’t,” you admit, looking straight into his brown eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it, yet, but it was real.” 

Your entire body is quivering in his hold, under his stare, so overwhelming you have to look away for a second.

“If you want this,” his thumb caresses the skin of your cheek. “I want this.” You lean your forehead against his, tears welling up in your eyes. The jet lag is catching up to you, and he’s still looking at you like the only person in the world. The sheer intensity of his gaze turns your insides into mush. 

“I want this, Felix,” Your lips are touching his ever so slightly, so you breathe the words into his mouth before he kisses you. It grows intense, his tongue slipping into your mouth before you push him away gently. “It’s late, I’m exhausted. Still on New York time.”

“Stay with me,” he’s all sweet, words syrupy and soft. “We don’t have to do anything.”

And, of course, you relent, falling into his familiar and warm arms. 

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

A Ghost Of A Man (PART SEVEN)

Summary: Reader goes back to 1922. What will Tommy's reaction be when she shows up unexpectedly?

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes, fluff, angst

Laying on the grass as a child, looking up into the endless blue sky, you would feel yourself slowly getting lost in the clouds. If you stayed there long enough you would start to feel like the earth was slowly spinning underneath you. And that's what it felt like, only ten times stronger.

Sitting up you gasped for air as you clawed at your throat finally able to breathe. You looked around the cemetery in search of the woman that only a few seconds ago was standing right In front of you, but she was nowhere to be seen, had you dreamt it? With shaking legs you stood up in the damp grass, lifting your eyes you took in your surroundings. And that's when you saw it, Small Heath. Out in the distance through the smoked filled sky's there it was, but it didn't look the same. Countless factories with their towering chimneys filled your view, smoke bellowing out of them as their furnaces burned beneath. Train tracks raised from the ground sat above terrace house after terrace house, as far as the eye could see. A dark gray cloud started to rest above the busy town, you stretched out your hand to catch a small flake of ash watching it disappear as you rubbed it between your fingers. You couldn't believe it, it worked...it actually worked. You promised yourself in that very moment to never doubt the old lady's words ever again. Picking up the gold pocket watch from the ground you placed it in your small embroidered bag. As you straightened your tailored jacket out you apprehensively took your first step forward. Slowly making your way down the graveled path you saw an old man walking towards you, nerves building up, your feet stopped moving. Stuck in place you waited for him to pass you by. Tilting his cap in gesture to say hello, he walked by you without a word.

"Hi ya!" you waved almost frantically in response. Turning around he furrowed his brows at you, shaking his head as he continued to walk up the old graveled path. Hi ya, fucking Hi ya...If you was going to survive five minutes in 1922 you needed to get a grip and act the part. Mentally scolding yourself you continued down the path and out onto the streets of Small Heath.

Now walking through the busy neighborhood, you felt like everyone's eyes were on you. Did you not look like one of them? You started to get worried that at any minute someone would clock on to what you had done and declare you a witch. It hadn't occurred to you that as someone who was not from the area they simply didn't recognise you, you were a stranger albeit a stranger from the future that was, nonetheless you hurried to Watery Lane in search of the betting shop. The street itself looked the same only the roads were not paved and the houses were painted a various assortment of blacks and grays. Children ran past you as they chased after a silver hoop, women were dusting their doorsteps with large wooden brooms, it was a bustling little street nothing like the Watery Lane in 2023. Wandering along the road, nerves started to build in your stomach. The thought of seeing Tommy again was overwhelming you with anticipation, that was until a young man with a toothpick in his mouth pushed past you pulling you from your worries.

" Sorry love" he said looking back as he continued walking over to one on the small terrace houses. He wasn't the only person to walk through that door, there seemed to be a small steady flow of men walking into that very same house.

"Excuse me, do you know where the betting shop is?" You asked a roughly dressed man walking past you.

" If you don't know where it is miss, then it probably means you shouldn't go looking for it" he said continuing down the road.

Sighing you watched as more men entered the small bricked house. Deciding to take your chances you walked over. Slowly opening the door you were hit by the smell of tobacco and sweat. The place was packed full of people taking bets at small wooden desks, as the same man you saw earlier shouted odds down from a chalkboard at the end of the room.

" Can I help you?" You heard from behind you. Turning around you faced a young woman with her hair loosely braided to one side, her fingers covered in rings.

" Can I help you" she asked again sounding like she was starting to get annoyed.

" Erm hello, yeh i'm erh looking for Tommy, Tommy Shelby?" you asked shyly as you nervously played with the metal chain on your handbag.

" Thomas?" She questioned " Who are you?" She added.

" Esme, Scudboat needs help taking bets" an older lady said approaching you." Who's this?" She turned to ask the young woman.

"She's looking for Thomas" she replied walking of with her arms crossed.

" And what do you want with Tommy?" She said as she narrowed her eyes.

"I...i need to talk to him" you stuttered out. Wait, you had seen this woman before, was she the same person you saw at the cemetery ?

" His not here" she replied pulling you from your thoughts. Glancing down you noticed the unusual necklace she was wearing, your eyes widened as you recognised the familiar design. It was the same necklace as the old lady's. But the woman stood before you wasn't the elderly lady from 2023, this woman's eyes were a dark chestnut brown not a piercing blue like the dear old lady's you had begun to know. She watched you as you stared down at the black Madonna resting on her chest. A small smile formed on the sides of her lips, her eyes glistening as she looked at you intently.

" I taught her well" she said raising her brows, now looking at you like she had been expecting you.

" That necklace, you...you was there at the cemet..." you started to question her only to be interrupted by the same man with the toothpick.

" Who's this then Pol?" He asked the lady standing opposite you as he looked at you from head to toe.

" I'm looking for Tommy" you said turning to face him your eyes quickly darting back to the older lady in front of you.

" He's in the Garrison, I'm going there now, I'll take you if you want" he said as he stared you down.

" John!" The young woman you first met shouted out from one of the small wooden desks.

" Yeh in a fucking minute Esme, alright" he shouted back.

Huffing, she slammed the large book she was writing in on the table, only to then storm off in the other direction.

"Coming then?" He said sighing, adjusting his hat as he started walking towards the front entrance. Glancing back one last time at the dark haired lady, she was stood there with her arms folded, a faint smile on her lips, observing you as you walked out the door. Why was it everywhere you went, everything you did since that day at the antique market when you found that folder, surrounded by mystery, sighing in confusion you closed the betting shop door. You wanted to know who she was and why she was at the cemetery, but you needed to find Tommy first, you needed to help him.

" Tommy's got you girls coming to the shop now has he" he laughed as he walked along the street looking back at you as you tried to catch up with his fast pace.

" What...no, I'm not a, I'm not a prostitu...that kind of woman" you corrected yourself as you finally caught up to him.

" Don't bother me what you are" he said as he glared down at you again with a cocky smirk " What's your name then love?" He asked as you both turned the corner walking under the raised train tracks.

" Y/N" you replied looking to him.

" You're Y/N?" He said stopping, turning the toothpick between his teeth.

" Yes" you replied shyly.

" Fucking Hell!" he laughed. " Tommy chewed are ears off all night talking about you as he drowned half a bottle of whiskey" he laughed once again. " Told us you was far away. I can't wait to see his bloody face when you walk in the door. Come on" he said as he started walking again.

Coming to a stop in front of the Garrison you started to feel sick, your nerves were now intolerable. You pulled the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands as you waited for the man to open the door. You could barely walk forward as he ushered you with his hand into the Pub. You waited nervously behind him as your eyes darted around the room looking for Tommy.

" In here love" he said, a sound of laughter filling your ears as he opened a small door to the side.

" Tommy, got someone here to see you" he said grinning, as you stayed behind him.

" Oh yeh? And who would that be John boy?" Tommy replied as he put a unlit cigarette in his mouth, his voice sending butterflies to your already nervous stomach.

Turning around John tilted his head to you, gesturing you to walk forward. Unclasping your hands from eachother you took two steps as John moved to the side.

"Tommy..." you said with a shaking voice. Dropping the box of matches in his hand, the cigarette falling from his lips, Tommys eyes flew up at the recognition of your voice. Eyes wide, locked on yours, he abruptly stood up from his seat knocking the table with his knee as he stumbled back to the wall.

" Steady on Tom" the man next to him said as he stopped the bottle of whiskey on the table from from falling over. " Who's this then Tommy?" He asked, sending John a wink and a grin. Tommy unable to form any words just stood there looking at you as tears started to form in your eyes.

" This is Y/N Arthur" John said smirking to his brother.

"This is Y/N is it?... You not gonna offer the lady a drink Tom?" Arthur said sniggering, as he poured a glass of whiskey nudging Tommy's hand with.

Tommy still in a state of shock and confusion looked down at the glass as it snapped him back into reality. Looking at you dead in the eye he suddenly started walking towards you ignoring his brothers questions. Grabbing you by the arm he dragged you out the Garrison with him, not stopping to say anything or even look back, he pulled you along the cobbled streets to the back of a row of terraced houses.

" Tommy wait, Tommy!" You said as you pulled his hand off you. Gripping you by your arms he walked you back against a wall. Panicking by his sudden actions you tried to push him off you, only for Tommy to loosen his hold.

" Wha..how?" He said as his eyes frantically searched yours for an explanation.

" The old lady on Watery Lane" you said smiling as tears fell from your eyes. " Your pocket watch" you added as you pulled it out from your bag placing it gently into his hand.

" Y/N...this is dangerous" he said as he looked left to right cupping your cheeks with his hands. Placing one of your hands onto his, you leaned into his unfamiliar warm touch. Tommy looking down at you at the realisation, softly smiled to you as he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb.

" I want to help you, please Tommy" you said as he let go of you.

" Not here" he said sighing as he brushed his hand down the front of his face. Grabbing you by your hand he walked you back to the main street. Jogging alongside him trying to keep up, he turned the corner onto watery Lane. Instead of going through the betting shop door he opened the door of the house next to it. Entering you recognised the layout instantly.

"Tommy, this house it's..." You said as he pulled you up the the stairs not letting you finish your sentence. Once you reached the top he quickly led you into a small bedroom.

" Y/N, you need to go back" he said turning around his hands on his hips.

" No Tommy, you're not scaring me off for a third time. I'm staying" you said sternly as you sat down on the vacant bed.

" Y/N I won't argue with you. You can't stay here, I'm taking you back" He said as he tried to grab your hand to pull you up from the bed.

" Let go Tommy!" You said slapping his hand away. Huffing Tommy walked over to a small desk, forcefully pulling out the chair. With his head buried in his hands he looked up at you sighing. "Fuck sake" he said as he lit a cigarette. " I don't think I've ever met a woman as stubborn as you" he added as he took a drag of his cigarette looking up at the ceiling. Arms crossed you ignored him like a stroppy teen as he sat there shaking his head at you. Silence filling the room, Tommy watched you as you nervously pulled at a lose thread on the hem of your jacket. Standing up he cleared his throat as he walked over to sit beside you.

" This is dangerous Y/N. He said turning to face you. " Hey, hey look at me" he said turning your chin gently to face him. " It might not work, and if does, then what, hm?" A small tear ran down your face.

" I just want to help you Tommy, that night..." you sobbed, feeling like a child being told off.

" I know" he replied nodding his head as he let go of your chin. "Y/N, that night I..." He said looking away from you " I shouldn't have said the things I did, I shouldn't have hurt you"

" Did you mean it?" you asked looking up to the guilt in his face.

" No" he replied as he stood up walking over to the opposite side of the room.

" Then why did you say it?"

" I thought" he sighed " I thought you didn't want me to come back" he said weakly, almost like his was giving up or giving in to the situation he now found himself in. This Tommy wasn't the same as the man in the old abandoned building, there was no anger behind his eyes instead there was fear. He was scared, scared you was now here with him. He cared for you, he wanted you safe, and Small heath in 1922 was not a safe place to be, especially with a man as dangerous him. He was going to die tomorrow, and now you was here.

" I want you to live Tommy" you said walking over to him as you took out the piece of paper from your bag, handing it to him. " You can't stay in that building forever Tommy, you have to make a choice" Taking it Tommy put it straight into his suit pocket, sighing not saying a word as he rubbed the back of his head. Feeling uncomfortable with the silence you walked back over to the bed.

" I'll go find somewhere to stay" you said as you picked up your belongings.

" You'll stay here tonight" he said as he stubbed out his cigarette into a glass ashtray.

" It's fine Tommy, I'll find a guest house or something" You replied as you walked to the door, only for him to then stop you by placing his arm across your stomach as he held onto your waist.

" You'll stay here" he said once again with more authority as he raised his eyebrows.

" But where will you sleep? " You asked as you looked around his room, anywhere but his eyes, as you tried to avoid his relentless gaze.

" I'll sleep downstairs" he said as he let out a small chuckle. " You're still nervous around me, eh?" He asked a hint of a grin on the corner of his lips as he watched you.

"No" you replied blushing, feeling the heat rise in your face. Giving your waist a small caress with his thumb he let go and stood back.

"Get some rest eh?" He said giving you one last smile as he walked out the door.

You woke up the next day to Tommy sitting across from you at the small desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand the paper you gave him in the other. For the past hour Tommy had been watching you sleep, waiting for you to wake up before he left. He was on edge, not knowing what to do, he wanted to live, but his growing feelings for you was making the decision impossible. What if you could stay here with him in 1922, could he really ask that of you, have you leave your life behind? He could discard the information you gave him, then he would be back at the abandoned building in 2023, back to what you had both become accustomed too, but how long could that last?

" Hey" you said as you sat up.

"You slept all morning" he said folding the paper in half putting it in his suit pocket.

"Shit, I'm sorry" you said quickly getting out the bed. Tommys eyes widened as he cleared his throat looking away, your naked figure evident under the white slip you was wearing. Realising, you quickly covered yourself with a blanket. Standing there slightly embarrassed you looked down at your feet. Why didn't you have anything to say to to him? For weeks you visited him in that abandoned building, you would talk for hours. Now you was like a nervous Teen uncomfortable around a crush, and you wasn't exactly hiding your awkwardness. Tommy however couldn't deny that he had begun to enjoy your little fidgeting when nervous, he found it endearing, innocent. He watched you as you would quickly glance up at him then look away, how you would bite your lip trying to think of something to say, and that, that is exactly what you did.

"Oh I almost forgot" you said breaking the silence, Tommy smiling knowing you far too well now. Reaching into your bag, you took out the small gold locket Tommy had left you. Walking towards you frowning Tommy took the necklace from your hand.

" I left this for you" he said as he walked behind you, his fingers softly touching you neck as he moved your hair to one side. Turning you around he adjusted it's position on your chest.

"It belongs with you" he said as he looked deep into your eyes, gently cupping your face as he moved closer. Your heart now pounding in your chest, you rested your hands on the front of his shirt as you closed the gap between you. Without hesitation Tommy lowered his head placing a tender kiss to your lips, almost instantly you fell into his embrace as Tommy's soft lips parted your mouth, gently brushing his tongue against yours. His hands now on your waist he softly stroked your sides as you both got lost in the moment, finally at long last feeling the others warmth. Breaking the embrace, Tommy pulled away smiling to you, as he gently rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip.

" I have to go" he said as he let go of you.

" I'll come with you" you replied as you turned to your clothes laying on the cupboard.

" No Y/N, not this time " he said sternly. Looking back at him you furrowed your brow in confusion.

"Why not?" you questioned, only to not receive a reply. Instead it was written all over Tommy's sheepish face" It's today isn't it?" you asked suddenly realising. " Tommy let me come with you" you pleaded as you tried putting your boots on. Sighing he shook his head as he watched you in your frantic state.

" You're not coming Y/N" he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

" Please, I can help" you said as you started lacing them up.

" No, its too dangerous, I can't risk your safety" he replied feeling his anger build up.

"Tommy please" you said standing up walking to him.

" Enough Y/N!" He shouted grabbing your arms only to let go almost immediately as he remembered his last actions." Why won't you ever let things go?" he added exhausted by your relentlessness.

"Tommy..." You scrambled to him as he pushed you away.

" It's not safe" he said trying to open the door as you grabbed onto his arm.

" Wait, Tommy! I need to be with you" You begged as you held him tighter.

"Y/N stop!" he said removing your hands from him, as you breathlessly tried to stop him from leaving. All your efforts were futile, Tommy being much stronger than you pulled the door open while keeping you at arms length only to shut it firmly as you tried one last time to follow him.

" Tommy!" You shouted as you heard the key turning on the other side, locking you in. Banging on the door, turning the handle you tried will all your force to open the door.

" Wait please, wait" you cried only to hear his footsteps walking down the stairs. Tears now streaming down your face you slid down the door onto the ground.

"Tommy..."

NEXT PART

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[hwashua-luv]

A Midnight's Fall

The night air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves as you walk along the deserted path. The cool October wind nips at your skin, sending shivers down your spine that have little to do with the cold and more with the electric anticipation that coils in your gut. Halloween night has always carried a strange magic, a veil between worlds that feels thin enough to reach through, to touch something — or someone — from the other side.

You pull your coat tighter around you, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your thoughts. The world is quiet, unnaturally so, but you welcome the silence. Tonight, you're searching for something, though you don't know what.

The moon, full and bright, casts an ethereal glow on the darkened streets of your town. The old cemetery ahead, usually avoided by most, draws you in. It's as if the shadows themselves beckon, whispering secrets just beyond your reach. There's an energy there, something tugging at your soul, urging you forward.

And then you feel it — the eyes on you. Watching. Waiting.

You stop just before the iron gate, fingers brushing over the cold metal. A shiver runs down your spine, but you don't turn around. You know he's there. You've felt this presence before, haunting you like a dream you can never quite remember.

"Y/N."

His voice, soft like a breeze yet carrying a weight that makes your breath hitch, pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn slowly, and there he is — Kim Hongjoong. A fallen angel.He stands just a few feet away, bathed in moonlight, looking every bit the ethereal creature he is. His black wings, massive and feathered, fold behind him like a dark halo, framing his lithe form. His hair is a messy tangle of raven strands that contrast with his pale, flawless skin. His eyes, a piercing shade of gold, lock onto yours, filled with an intensity that sends a rush of heat through your body.

"Hongjoong," you whisper, barely able to find your voice. He looks like a vision — dangerous, untouchable, yet irresistibly magnetic. You've met him before, in fleeting moments, under moonlit skies, in dreams that left you breathless. But this... this feels real. Too real.

"You shouldn't be here," he says, voice laced with warning, though he makes no move to leave.

"And yet, you are," you counter, stepping closer to him. There's something about him that has always drawn you in — something beyond the mystery, beyond the allure of the forbidden. There's a sadness in his eyes, a depth of emotion that you can't help but want to unravel. 

He sighs, a sound that feels too human for someone who's lived beyond lifetimes. "It's Halloween. The night when the veil between worlds is thinnest. You're walking dangerously close to the edge, Y/N. You have no idea what you're inviting in."

You raise an eyebrow, feeling the thrum of energy in the air. It crackles between you like static, pulling you in even as his words warn you to stay away. "Maybe that's what I want."

His golden eyes darken, the moon casting sharp shadows on his angular features. He steps toward you, and your breath catches as his presence overwhelms your senses. There's something raw and untamed about him tonight, like he's struggling to keep his true nature hidden. He's beautiful in a way that's almost painful to look at — the fallen angel, damned but still carrying the remnants of the divine.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he murmurs, but there's something in his tone that makes you think he wants you to ask for it anyway.

"I know what I'm getting into, Hongjoong," you reply, your voice steady. You're closer to him now, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body despite the chill in the air. His wings shift slightly, as if reacting to your proximity.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches between you, heavy and full of things unsaid. You can feel the pull, the magnetic force that draws you toward him even when you know you should stay away. You've always known he was dangerous, but you've never been able to resist the temptation that came with him.

"I fell for a reason," he says quietly, his eyes searching yours. "I'm not what you think I am."You reach up, your hand trembling slightly, and brush a stray lock of hair from his face. His skin is cool beneath your fingertips, but the touch sends a wave of warmth through you. "I don't care," you whisper, the words surprising even yourself.

He exhales sharply, like he wasn't expecting that. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, gently but firmly, holding you in place. His eyes burn into yours, and for a moment, you feel like you're standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable.

"You should," he says, though there's no conviction in his words. If anything, he seems conflicted, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

Before you can respond, he pulls you in. His lips crash against yours with a fervor that steals your breath. It's not a soft, gentle kiss — it's raw, desperate, filled with the weight of everything unsaid between you. His grip on your wrist tightens, and his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pressing you against him.

You melt into him, your body responding to his in a way that feels inevitable, like this moment was always meant to happen. His wings unfurl slightly, the soft brush of feathers against your skin making you shiver. There's a hunger in his kiss, like he's trying to devour every part of you, like he's afraid that if he lets go, you'll slip away.

The world around you fades, and for a moment, it's just the two of you — caught in a moment that feels both infinite and fleeting. His lips move against yours with a fervent need, and you respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. His golden eyes are darker now, filled with an emotion you can't quite place."You're playing with fire, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. His fingers trace your jawline, gentle despite the storm brewing inside him.

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "Then burn me."

A flicker of something dangerous crosses his face, but before he can respond, a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the cemetery. His wings flare out instinctively, and his body tenses, eyes scanning the shadows. The air grows colder, and a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy fog.

"They're coming," Hongjoong says, his voice low and serious. "I can't protect you here."Your pulse quickens as the shadows around you seem to grow darker, twisting and shifting in unnatural ways. You know what he means — other fallen ones, creatures drawn to the chaos of the night.

"What do we do?" you ask, instinctively moving closer to him.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "We run."

Before you can protest, his wings unfurl fully, and with a powerful thrust, you're lifted off the ground. The world blurs around you as he takes to the sky, the cemetery disappearing below you. The wind whips through your hair, and you cling to him, your heart racing with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

You're flying.

His arms tighten around you, and despite the danger, there's a part of you that feels safe in his embrace. The night sky stretches out before you, vast and endless, and for a moment, it feels like you've escaped the world below.

But you know it's only temporary. The shadows are coming, and sooner or later, you'll have to face them.

For now, though, you let yourself enjoy the fleeting freedom — the feeling of being in his arms, suspended between heaven and earth, between the light and the dark.And for the first time in a long time, you don't feel afraid.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Word count: 1344

Author's note: This is my first time publishing my work so please let me know if I have spelling or grammar mistakes. The same book has been posted on Quotev and Wattpad (hwashua-luv). Each oneshot will be posted on Instagram (hwashua._.luv1708). Requests are also open <3

Special Note: Happy belated 6th Debut Anniversary, ATEEZ! 🎉✨ I'm so grateful to be on this journey with you, sharing every incredible moment. I'm blessed to be born in the same time as Ateez, my forever safe space and the people that give me the feeling of home. Here's to many more years of music and memories together! 💖

All rights reserved. © 2024 hwashua-luv

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 116

"Here you go, some old pajamas of mine. They should fit you," I said, handing him the bundle. He took them without much thought, his gaze sweeping over the guest room, eyes widening as he took in the space. The quiet room, with its soft lighting, the mounted TV on the wall, and the big bed in the center, seemed to surprise him. It was warm, and inviting—things he probably hadn’t known for a while.

I finished tucking in the fresh covers and lit a vanilla candle, hoping the soft scent would make him feel at ease. "Thanks," he mumbled, disappearing into the attached bathroom with the pajamas.

I took the moment to pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling absently, trying to figure out what to tell Bucky. Breaking news like this over the phone felt wrong, but not telling him anything at all felt just as unsettling.

I looked up when I heard the shower turn on, so I stepped outside to make the call I'd been dreading. Taking a deep breath, I held the phone to my ear, waiting for Bucky to pick up.

"Hey, doll, what's up?" he answered casually, though there was a thread of worry in his voice.

"Hey, Buck. I just wanted to let you know that I'm staying at the house tonight," I explained, trying to keep my tone light. "It’s getting late, and I’d rather not drive all the way back to Brooklyn." Even as I said it, I knew it sounded like a flimsy excuse.

He paused, and I could almost feel his concern through the phone. "Oh... everything okay? Want me to come over?" His voice was cautious like he was ready to be there at a moment’s notice. And that’s when it hit me—he was worried I’d be alone, afraid I might hurt myself again. I didn’t want him carrying that weight, so I just blurted it out.

“I found my son, Buck,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Or… he found me. He was at the cemetery, and now he’s here, at the house.” I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. “He survived, Buck. He escaped from the lab and somehow made it out—he’s been living on the streets all this time… and now, we just ate pizza together.”

There was silence on the other end as he took it in, and I could picture him trying to process everything I’d just said.

"Buck?" I prompted gently, my heart pounding in the quiet that followed.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Your son… he’s alive?" His voice was barely above a whisper, as though he feared the truth might slip away if he spoke too loudly. I could hear disbelief, relief, and worry woven together in those few words.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady but soft. “And I know you must have a million questions. I’ll tell you everything, Buck, but… not over the phone. I just thought you deserved an explanation.”

He was quiet for a beat before he responded. “All right,” he said finally, though I could sense a hint of hesitation. “But if you need anything—if he needs anything—you call me, okay?”

“I will… thank you, Bucky,” I whispered, feeling the gratitude settle deep in my chest. I ended the call with a quiet click, letting the weight of the conversation linger in the stillness.

I leaned back against the wall, releasing a sigh of relief just as the door cracked open slightly. My son’s head peeked out, his expression tentative. “Uh… where should I put my dirty clothes?” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable. “There wasn’t a basket,” he added shyly.

“Oh, just hand them over,” I replied, smiling as I reached out. “I’ll take care of them and toss them in the wash.”

He handed over the clothes with a quiet “Thanks,” and I turned around and walked into the laundry room. As I started the cycle, I noticed he had followed me, lingering in the doorway, arms crossed tightly as though he didn’t know what to do with himself.

When I faced him, he looked down, seeming smaller than before. “You’re safe here,” I said gently, stepping closer, the urge to reach out and embrace him almost overwhelming.

He swallowed and looked up, eyes meeting mine, though he stayed rooted to the spot. “I don’t even have a name,” he whispered, a tinge of shame in his voice. “Never needed one.” His eyes were hard, defensive—but his posture told a different story, one of uncertainty and vulnerability.

I started to respond, but he spoke first, his voice quieter. “What would you have called me?” He crossed his arms, looking both curious and defensive.

The truth hit hard. I hadn’t had the luxury of imagining names, of planning a future together. He was taken before I’d ever had that chance. “I didn’t get to name you,” I admitted softly. His expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

After a moment, he glanced up, hesitantly. “Can…can you call me Steven? Like my father.” His voice carried an unsteady pride, and my heart tightened as tears threatened. I nodded, pressing my lips together to hold back the flood of emotions. His face softened into the faintest of smiles, there and gone so quickly, but it lifted something heavy inside me.

He shifted, glancing away. “I…think I’ll go to bed,” he murmured, though he lingered, almost as if he was waiting for permission.

“Good night…Steven,” I whispered, my fists clenched against the overwhelming urge to pull him into a hug. Just the sound of his chosen name was enough to make his small smile return. It was enough—for now.

“Good night,” he whispered, and then, with a final look back, he turned and disappeared into his room.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts circling back to the same unbelievable truth—my son was right down the hall, finally here after all these years. Every time I closed my eyes, a fear tugged at me, whispering that I’d wake up and find him gone, that it was all a dream. After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning, I gave in and quietly slipped out of bed, needing to do something—anything—to quiet my racing mind.

I began to clean, dusting every surface, and sweeping and mopping every inch of the floors. The steady rhythm was soothing, the focus a temporary relief from my nerves. As I moved through the house, I found myself in the basement, sorting through old boxes until I pulled out the Christmas decorations. Somehow, it felt right. I wanted this place to feel warm, safe, a home for him—something worth staying for.

Decorating the house in quiet solitude, I realized this wasn’t just about welcoming him but about showing him he had a place here. That he wasn’t alone anymore.

After finishing the last touch—a string of lights draped over the mantel—I finally let myself collapse into bed. For once, I didn’t lie awake overthinking, and sleep claimed me almost instantly.

It was only as I drifted off that a quiet realization brushed against the edges of my mind—I was lying in the bed Steve and I had once shared, a place filled with memories of a life that felt like it belonged to another time. But tonight, it didn’t bring the usual ache. Tonight, with my son across the hall, it almost felt like a new beginning.

The first rays of sunshine woke me, stirring a feeling in my chest that I hadn’t experienced in a long time—a flicker of hope mixed with anticipation for the day ahead. I tossed the blanket aside, slipped into my morning coat, and dialed a nearby breakfast place. I would have preferred to cook, but the kitchen was bare of ingredients.

Twenty minutes later, the delivery driver arrived with an array of breakfast foods: pancakes, waffles, omelets, sausages, and freshly squeezed orange juice. I was plating everything on the kitchen table when I heard footsteps descending the stairs.

He appeared, rubbing his eyes and taking in the delicious scents wafting through the air. “Good morning,” I said with a smile as I poured some juice into his glass.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, sitting down and eyeing the pancakes. I quickly grabbed a stack and placed it on the plate in front of him.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked as I settled into my seat and took a sip of my coffee. He swallowed a massive bite and nodded. “Beats the cardboard box I usually sleep on,” he replied, and my heart ached at his words.

I bit my lip, trying to keep the sadness at bay. “Well,” I said softly, “no more cardboard boxes.” I reached over to slide a small bottle of syrup closer to him. “Here—drizzle as much as you want.”

He took the bottle, pouring a generous amount over his pancakes before taking another big bite. I watched as he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. Seeing him enjoy his meal in the warm morning sunlight made my heart swell.

He caught me staring and squinted at me as if contemplating what to say next. “Who was the man you called yesterday... when I was in the shower?” His tone was neutral, but there was an edge of curiosity.

I hadn’t anticipated that question, and it caught me off guard. “That was Bucky. He was your father’s best friend, and he’s my best friend too,” I explained. A familiar feeling of shame crept in—shame for being in a relationship with my best friend so soon after his father’s death. It had only been over two years, after all.

“Bucky Barnes?” he asked, his eyes widening before he seemed to shrink in on himself as if he felt he wasn’t allowed to get excited. Yet, there was a spark of admiration in his voice.

“Yes, Bucky Barnes. Have you heard of him?” I asked with a smile.

He shrugged, trying to contain his excitement. “Yeah, I snuck into that exhibit once.”

I nodded, saddened that he had sneaked into places others just walked into without worries. Then he hesitated before speaking again. “Uhm, can I meet him?” His voice was quiet as he watched my reaction.

I smiled warmly. “Of course you can. He would love to meet you.”

I found myself staring again, completely unaware until he caught my gaze. “Can I have more orange juice?” he asked shyly, nodding toward the bottle on the table.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask,” I replied, filling his glass. “This is your home, Steven. You’re home now,” I added, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

He nodded, his eyes dropping to his plate as he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Next Chapter

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Good afternoon! I'm actually the one who requested Frollo x an fem!albino!reader, and I loved your work too much. I'd like to request a second part with these two, if you don't mind.😅

Protecting the pale flower

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, cuddling, obsession, no use of Y/n, fem reader

Part.1

Info : Very happy to write a second part for this and thank you for the request @catmint01 . This one here will be a little more angst but I still hop you like it. Again thank you and everyone have fun reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had watched this pretty pale flower long enough and had chased after it long enough. Clung to every flower he could find. Had watched it, even had it inspected.

Wanted to make sure she didn't hurt herself, that she was safe. Even though he knew she was safest with him, judge of the city of Paris, judge of the people and her judge who would take care of her.

But the kiss had happened, he had kissed his favorite, made her his, she had worn the ring, played the harp, undressed for him, removed the veil, in her wealth, she had emerged as a shining star.

But days had passed since then, days that threatened to turn into weeks because he had hardly seen her after their kiss when they had finally touched.

He still remembered the overwhelming yet devotion that had shimmered in her bright reddish eyes. ,,I know you're waiting for me," he mumbled, looking out of his window at his beloved's presence. But he could see no light, no light from the candles and torches.

But he also knew something was wrong when she didn't show up at the church that Sunday, neither for morning, noon or evening service, when he personally stayed until the last candles were burned out.

The bells had fallen silent and the choir of people had dispersed to the last. ,,You haven't seen her either, Archdeacon?" He had asked the old man who was about to lock up the church.

He was no fool and had stayed away from the older man for a reason. But he saw the worry in his eyes, ,,Didn't you notice...her father passed away two days ago".

The words hit him like the spark in a coffin. Why hadn't he noticed? He remembered when a new problem was reported at the city walls, a new pack of travelers to whom he had to turn.

With a nod, he walked out of the church faster than usual and went back to his horse, the black stallion snorting as his owner moved the reins slightly to ride in the direction of the approach.

How could I forget you? he thought, cursing as he rushed through the streets and saw that the sun was almost set in the sky.

He wouldn't miss it, not when the moon came up. He ignored the leather of the reins in his hands, remembering her sweet softness the gentle smile the sweet irritation when he had finally kissed her.

Her body now covered in tears and fear - no, he couldn't let that happen. She was only allowed to turn to him and cry in his arms, she was his. His pretty flower.

With a yank on the reins, Snowball came to a stop with a whinny as he dismounted. Knocking at the courtyard door, her servant opened the door for him, ,,Judge Frollo do you wish?" the older man asked him and was already pulling off his robe when he looked around frantically.

,,Where is she?" he asked, almost nagging, when he saw that her coat and robe were not hanging on the hook, but what did that mean?

Before he could hurry up the stairs the other interrupted him, ,,She's at the cemetery, she's taken her own horse, shall I give her something-" but before the offer could be spoken Frollo was past him, slamming the door behind him before following the light trail he had, hurrying after Snowball.

The fear that she had done something at the cemetery was the sun, which was as strong as ever on the hill. The cemetary was on the only hill in the town full of iron, stone and wooden crosses.

Looking around, he rode over the graveyard, it was nothing that he was damaging graves and dams, she was more important. She was the most important thing, she was his and no one would take her away from him. But there.

Then, as he turned his gaze to the tree where the recently deceased were buried, he saw her. Her name calling again and again he steered his stallion there, almost dismounting while still riding before hurrying to her.

,,Darling," he said, reaching for her hand as he saw the pained sound she made and his eyes glazed over as he walked around her, finally blocking out the sun that was retreating behind the clouds and hiding her.

,,Frollo...what are you doing here?" she mumbled, her voice filled with tears, the pain of her father's death too much for her.

But this painful wince was repeated when he put his fingers on her arms and saw that she had probably been here for several hours, if not since the funeral.

,,What have you been doing?" he asked, pulling her gently towards him, knowing that her sensitive skin was sunburned, more painful for her than for him.

,,Mourned...cried...tried to go on," she confessed as she slowly let Frollo guide her back, her fingers trembling, clutching the white handkerchief he had given her to wipe away her tears.

He took off his robe, the dark tunic slightly too light in the wind, but he put the cloak around her to protect her from any light as he led Snowbald back by the reins to her place of residence.

His gaze went to her every now and then, the pain in her eyes yet he saw the slight smile a smile of hope.

A hope he gave her and could only give her. I'll be there for you, my wife, don't worry, I'll stay with you," he assured her as they went into her house, leaving the butler to look after the horse and rider. Frollo practically threw the incapable man out of the house to the horse to take his flower.

On her bed she saw a blush on her cheeks as she wore only an undergarment with her evening cloak, her arms, legs and hands visible to the older man who reached for the cooling ointment.

,,Thank you," she murmured, looking from the dancing flames of the candles to the older man. She saw his grin as he continued to apply the cream and tinctures to the injured skin as carefully as possible.

,,I think that should smell i'll take care of your wounds though my pretty flower you won't have any more leaves ripped out" he mumbled and took her bandaged hand in his the smell of lavender from the tincture hung in the room as he placed his lips on her wrist.

He showed a surprised expression as he looked up from his hand to her as she held him in her arms. She kissed him, she wanted him like he had said she would, she was united in the pain she felt.

The love they felt would heal he was sure of it. I love you and I'll stay with you forever," he said, pulling her into his arms and running his hands gently over her wounds.

He knew that when the candles burned out and the room was lit only by the moon, their beauty would blossom and their love together would be secure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@kissingonclouds , @catmintO1 , @fics-i-like-shhhhh @wassupyou ,@cedric-my-beloved , @aliensthegreat

[stanchett]

hello, I loved your Gwen fic! Idk if you do Lucifer requests, but I would love to request a Lucifer x Human reader where they meet on earth and the reader doesn't know Lucifer is actually the devil. She only finds out when she is already so enamoured that she doesn't care anymore. Thank you if you decide to write this! :))

Thanks so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy! :)

(This is un-beta'd, apologies for any mistakes I might've missed)

In Mourning

Lucifer Morningstar x fem!human!reader

Warnings: grief, hurt & comfort

2k+ words

Your feet dragged through the cemetery, your heart still heavy with loss. A week without your best friend felt like an eternity, and you did everything you could to distract yourself from the pit in your stomach but found yourself visiting her grave daily. Fresh flowers in hand, you approached the marble slab and dropped to your knees, the overwhelming rush of heartbreak washing over you. Despite knowing she couldn’t hear you, you told her everything that had been on your mind that day through the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. You traced your fingers over her name, elegantly embossed in the stone, and you almost wished to join her. The passing thought scared you, and you hung your head and allowed yourself to sob. Through your tears, you failed to realize that a stranger had been silently watching you from a distance. 

Wiping away the remnants of your tears at last, you begrudgingly stood to leave, placing the flowers in the cup of water in the ground. Your eye caught on someone sitting on a bench before a statue of the Virgin Mary, smiling up at her in a way that made you feel uneasy. You thought it odd, looking away to scoop up your remaining belongings before looking back up. They were standing now, and moving in your direction. You sighed to yourself, mentally unprepared to speak to anyone after your last half hour of crying. You were sure you looked terrible. As they got closer, you noticed they were beautiful; adorned in a white suit with white heels to match, light blonde hair in perfect relaxed curls, and they were tall. Very tall. Over 6 feet at least. They had a certain aura about them, and you felt strangely comforted in their presence as they approached. 

“What weighs on your heart, young one?” Their voice was even, with undertones of genuine concern. ‘Young one’? You couldn’t have been much younger than they were, although their manner of speaking made them sound timeless. You looked away with a forced smile to shield your grief. They came to a halt a few paces away, carefully processing your reaction. Anyone close to you would’ve known better than to ask what was wrong. You looked up again, willing away any stray tears at their question, and found it difficult to look them in the eye. They intimidated you.

“Oh I.. lost a friend recently. I was just visiting with her. Or trying to…” Your shoulders dropped in defeat. You knew it sounded ridiculous, visiting someone who was no longer living as if they still were. But the stranger only smiled in understanding, and you felt a small sense of relief come over you. 

“Walk with me,” was all they said, turning away from you. Slightly confused but enjoying their company, you obliged. The two of you strode together in silence for a short while, enjoying the chirping birds and gentle breeze blowing around you. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you found the cemetery to be quite peaceful despite your sadness.

“Grief is an interesting creature, is it not?” Your head jerked in surprise at their sudden words, disrupting the stillness between you. You nodded in response, your eyes grazing over the names and dates of the headstones as you passed. 

“Oh… Yeah, I guess it is,” you answered a little awkwardly, not sure what else to say. Your mind was still somewhat clouded from crying. “Have you lost anyone close to you?” You almost feel silly asking, but you needed something to distract you from thinking about your friend. You missed her dearly and knew she should be the one taking a walk with you.

A smirk plays on the stranger’s face, their hands clasping behind their back. “Yes, I suppose I have. Almost everyone, in fact.” Your heart sank for them, and you cursed yourself for asking such an imposing question. You couldn’t help but wonder what that felt like. You let the silence take hold again between you for a moment, but your curiosity quickly got the better of you.

“Does it ever get easier like they say it does?” You felt your eyes prick with fresh tears again, but you quickly blinked them away. 

“With time. I suppose it does become easier to cope with, yes,” they said definitively, glancing down at you to catch your ponderous gaze. There was something in those eyes you couldn’t quite place, but you were intrigued nonetheless. You came to a stop in front of a small pond, surrounded by beautiful flowers and a few looming statues. Leaning toward the water’s edge, you caught a glimpse of your reflection and immediately regretted it. Your eyes were still slightly swollen and your cheeks tinged pink, though the latter could be due to your encounter with this beautiful stranger. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw them reach down to pick something up. Lowering yourself onto a nearby bench, they took a step to stand beside you, and held out a pristine white rose for you to take. You looked into their eyes with a kind smile and took it blindly from their grasp, your fingers brushing in the process. You dropped your gaze to take in its beauty before bringing the seemingly-perfect flower to your nose, its sweet scent wafting into your senses. Before you could offer your thanks, their voice was in your ear.

“Those we love are closer than we think.” You turned around to ask what they meant by that, only to find yourself completely alone, your sole company being the rose in your fingertips, its petals now black as night. 

----------

Four more visits you’d had to the cemetery with no sign of your mysterious stranger. You of course told your best friend all about them, your words falling on deaf ears. You knew she would’ve been just as invested as you were in learning more about them, and the thought brought you some much needed comfort. You wondered if you kept visiting for her, or for the chance to run into them again. It was on the fifth day that you finally saw them again, walking alone among the graves, still dressed in white from head to toe. It was a stark contrast against the green of the freshly-mown grass and darkened evening sky. As you approached your usual spot beside the rectangle of stone in the ground, their head turned to you, having already paused themselves before the grave you were headed toward. They raised their palm gracefully in greeting, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. 

“I wondered when I might see you again,” you teased, their eyes sweeping over you. You noticed a hint of nervousness taking hold at the way they looked you over, your stomach filling with butterflies. “Would you like to sit with me?” you asked, half expecting them to turn you down. You wouldn’t be surprised if they did, you normally spent this time crying your eyes out to your best friend anyway. You were pleased, however, when they lowered themselves to the ground, sitting with their legs extended beside you, one crossed over the other. It was such a simple act, yet they made it seem so regal.

“I suppose I can stay for a bit,” they replied, leaning back on their hands to watch you sit. You eased down beside them facing the grave, a solemn reminder of the reason you started coming here in the first place. Keeping your tears at bay, you looked in their direction, suddenly hesitant to meet their eyes. A question arose in you and you asked it before you could stop yourself.

“Where did you go? You disappeared on me the other day.” Their brow furrowed in thought, and you regretted being so forward immediately. You hardly knew this person, you remembered. What right did you have to know what they were up to? They answered nonetheless, apparently able to look past the prying nature of your question.

“I had some business to attend to. A few other souls were in need of guidance.” Their reply only puzzled you further, making them sound like a therapist or some kind of cult leader. They were certainly dressed like one.

“What kind of business? Can I ask what it is you do?” Their eyes took on a darker glint. Suddenly you weren’t sure that you really wanted an answer to that question.

“I am in the business of life and death... And judgment,” was their response. You leaned away to gauge their expression, now an amused one. Your eyebrows raised at their words, a million more questions flooding your thoughts. You don’t ask them, just allowed their statement to hang in the air. They had their hooks in you and you desperately wanted to know everything about them. After all, you didn’t even know their name.

After a beat, they stared off into the distance, watching the sun go down. As if able to read your mind, they volunteered, “Lucifer Morningstar. That is who I am.”

You held back a laugh, immediately discrediting their confession. “Like… the fallen angel?” Their head whipped around, anger igniting in their features. Your face fell at their seriousness. You still didn’t believe them, but something in the air around you both changed, as though suddenly charged with electricity. All of your nerves were on edge, but you had a hard time feeling anything other than adoration for this stranger who had brought you so much comfort in just the couple of times you’d met. 

“As in, the Ruler of Hell.” They swiftly rose to their feet, and you clambered up to join them. With their hands interlocked at their front, you heard a noise behind them. At that moment, the sun dropped below the horizon, blanketing the sky in deep oranges and purples. They turned as if to leave and you reached for their arm, and that’s when you saw them; a set of massive black wings with horned tips, longer than you were tall. A sharp gasp left  your throat, taken aback by them. You momentarily wondered how they kept them hidden during your last meeting. You would’ve noticed that detail before as it would’ve been hard to miss. 

“Wait! Don’t go..” The pleading nature of your words embarrassed you, but you were enamored with this being, this Lucifer Morningstar. They looked at you over their shoulder with a sly smile, satisfied that you were finally convinced of their identity. You reached out to them again, your fingers ghosting over the leathery flesh of their wings, not daring to touch them. They fluttered when your fingers got too close, recoiling from your fingertips. 

“They’re so beautiful,” you whispered without thinking, lowering your hand as they turned to face you again. You felt inferior to them, and almost considered kneeling before them when they took a step toward you. Wordlessly, they reached forward and cupped your cheeks in their hands, urging you to look up at them. Their eyes glistened in the fading daylight, a thoughtful smile on their lips.

“I have been watching you for some time, and I could no longer find the will to stay away,” you felt dizzy at their admission, a strange mix of emotion overcoming you. How long had they been observing you from afar? At that moment, you didn’t care. You felt your heart clench and your stomach fill with nervousness again as they lowered themselves to be eye-level with you. 

“So don’t,” Your eyes flicked to their lips, this perfect being laying themselves bare to you filling you with a feeling you couldn’t begin to explain. Leaning in, they captured your lips in a soft kiss, more gentle than the breeze on the day you met. When you parted, you saw something in their eyes akin to sorrow; they couldn’t stay in this realm and they knew it. “Take me with you."

They smiled at your request, placing another kiss on your forehead. “Are you prepared to enter the gates of Hell?” The question caught you off guard, almost certain they wouldn’t consider for a moment letting you join them in their dominion. You only nodded in reply, thoroughly prepared to part from this realm if it meant being by their side. Taking your hand, they lead you from your place in the cemetery, and you hoped you would be seeing your best friend much sooner than you’d hoped.

[sacrivn]

so like, i wrote a little exposition blurb for a self-insert fanfiction, yet it would fit so well if i tweaked it a little and used it as an exposition for sacrilegious when introducing lorelei TvT it can be read here :3c

Cold. Cold, dry, and spacious. 

The home of the lady in the woods was far from welcoming to the rest of society. Its architecture beautiful, its tension overwhelming, many described it. Stepping foot into the abode of the lonely lady in the woods brought dizziness too powerful to be combated by modern medicines. Many rooms took up space in the manor; about seven bedrooms, five restrooms, eight closets, a library, a kitchen, a living room, a pair of staircases, a basement, and an attic all clustered together to make up the home of the lady of the woods. 

The woman with fingers like needles and gaping black eyes had all that space, yet no one to share it with. Loneliness wrapped around her like a soft blanket tucked in by a loving mother then strangled her until those same eyes popped out of her sculpted skull. She never needed to fear home invasions as strangers avoided the bundle of trees, protecting themselves from the danger they perceived of her. 

And maybe that was for the best. The lady of the woods had always been a social recluse. She feared the outside more than the outside feared her. She preferred the reality of solitude over the possibility of friendships. She made best friends with long legged spiders that decorated her home with cobwebs and kept her food safe from flies and roaches. She allowed them to crawl on her hands to feel the same sensation as another person holding it. The legs of the spider almost replicated the feeling of fingers intertwining with her own. The spider had much thinner legs than her. She envied them.

She liked to play the piano in the living room. On rainy nights, she played varieties of tracks ranging from melancholic to yearning to as romantic as she could muster. The chandelier above the piano gave her a glow nobody was present to witness. She reflected the light. If not in the living space, she spent her nights in the attic. She liked lurking in the attic: being surrounded by all those bedrooms would have overwhelmed her. She wrote in old journals made of recycled paper and the dried skin of her prey. She daydreamed, wondering what could have been if she just took the chance to talk to the nice man in the grocery store or stepped foot in the tattoo shop. How different would her life be if she had the courage to walk up to someone, offer her hand, and say, “Hi, my name is…”? She had barely grown enough nerve to apply for a job at the morgue and land a spot as an embalmer. Even making conversations with the dead made her uneasy. Her coworkers knew to leave her alone, lest she subject them to a panicked meltdown.

Through her panic attacks, the darkness comforted her, her lights rarely, if ever, on. Candles did more than enough to guide her way through the manor. The darkness would always be there. The darkness would never leave her.

The lady of the woods was known only by her last name; Cemetery. Her first name was never confirmed. Maybe she never had one. No one bothered to ask. She was okay with that.

Cemetery didn’t need anyone. She could feel something within her, something inhuman. She was a special woman, nobody would ever understand her. She was basically inhuman as a whole. Her skin covered no visible muscle or fat, just her skeletal structure and organs. Her teeth were covered in veneers to hide the yellow, rotting canines that resided in her mouth for her entire life. Her eyes were adorned by heavy sags of skin forming bags. She wore only black, for no other color suited her so well. Her sunken expressions painted themselves on a sickly pale canvas. She was the face of the monster in little children’s closets.

Cemetery drowned herself in the darkness, she had let go of her breath long ago and gave up on the chance that anyone would swim down to rescue her.

[alyx-the-witch]

Hello! my name is Alyx, and im a Hellenic Witch! i wanted to talk about my practice a little bit, and let other people know that its ok to be unconventional when it comes to your practice. you do what you think is best, and intuition is your best friend when it comes to designing your practice.

anyways, heres some things i do throughout the week to worship my Gods.

personally, i got very overwhelmed when i started worshipping, so i set up a schedule, giving each deity and myself a day of the week that coincided with their historical days of worship.

Sunday

This day is for Lord Apollon. for him, i wake up before the sun and have a glass of orange juice while i watch the sunrise. i also go for a walk, and feed the corvids (crows and ravens) in my neighborhood.

Monday

this day is for Lady Artemis. for her, i record the moon phase, go to a park near my house, and bring some food with me for any animals i might come across. this is also one of the days i cleanse my space and myself.

Tuesday

this day is for Lord Ares. for him, i go to the gym, spend any free time i have with my dogs, and take good care of my mental health.

Wednesday

this day is for Lady Hestia. this day is apart from her historical day, but i trusted my intuition and chose this day because she feels very centering and in the middle of everything, and wednesday’s give that energy for me. for her, i bake or cook something, veil, and make sure that im choosing kindness over everything else.

Thursday

this day is for Lord Thanatos. for him, i wear something dark, honor the dead by visiting the cemetery near my house and leaving offerings, and finding a butterfly in something. finding a butterfly is a bit unconventional, but butterflies remind me of the beauty and peacefulness of death. its actually funny because when i first started to worship him, he would send me monarchs. one of those times, i found one almost dead and drowned in a puddle, and i took care of it in its final moments.

Friday

this day is for me. i set aside time to take care of myself, i make sure i eat well and drink water, i go to the gym, and i try to get more sleep. because i am currently worshipping 6 Deities, i have one day left over, and so i treat myself on that day how i would treat a deity. obviously i never compare myself to them and never hold myself on the same level as them, but its important for me to set aside a day for myself.

Saturday

this day is for Lady Aphrodite. for her, i take an everything shower, do my makeup, and honor Water. to me, she is a Water Deity, because in her birth myth, the blood of Uranus and the sea mixed together, and she rose from the foam, so involving water in her worship is important to me.

Other Things i do for my Gods

i took a vow of chastity for Lady Hestia

i make my own offerings out of clay (im a ceramics student so thats easy for me)

i wrote my own prayers for them

i braid colors into my hair that reminds me of them (i do one color per day and on each of their days i braid it into my hair using string)

i use my hair as a tool for my practice, and take care of it well. i use it to express periods of my life, and periods of change. for example, i cut it all off when i decided to change myself, and morned my old self while it was short, and now that it grew back out, i am out of that period and into a different one.

i offer myself as a conduit for them to experience the human condition of the 2000’s. they can inhabit my body for a period of time and live my life, taste my food, experience working a modern job (🤢🤢🤢), stuff like that.

i have a playlist for each of them with songs they like/songs that remind me of them/ give off the same vibe. i listen to their playlist on their day

anyways, my posts will most likely be about my practice and anything i think might be helpful, please talk to me about any questions you have!

[alan-duarte]

TIMING: Moments after Big Bad Wolf LOCATION: Mistwood Park Cemetery PARTIES: Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Alan @alan-duarte  SUMMARY: Kaden runs into Alan while he takes a naked stroll across a cemetery. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

Still recovering from his encounter with a werebear, Alan was confronted to one weirdly specific madeleine de Proust. He hadn’t walked on gravel for so long ever since he was a child. His mother insisted they wore slippers in the house, and Alan, who didn’t want to bother putting on shoes to go get the copy of Something Wicked from the mailbox, would everyday run to it barefoot, as long as the floor was dry, at least. That specific uncomfortable memory brought a slight smile to his face, as he recalled the look she would give him anytime she caught him doing that. 

Yet, no amount of nostalgia could make him stray away for long from the anguish he felt at the moment. No one could see him walking around like this. They’d take him for a homeless man, but in the worst case scenario, someone might recognize him and he would have a great time coming up with a perfectly good excuse. While Alan tried to come up with an excuse that made sense, he didn’t pay too much attention to his surroundings anymore, focused as he was on the sight of his car in the short distance, and the made up scenarios his head was coming up with then. 

_ 

“Goddamn cat in a goddamn tree. Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled to himself as he trudged away from the woods, cat carrier in hand and covered in scratches. His truck was close and he was ready to get this brat back to her owner so that they could get scratched and hissed at. He was so aggravated that he almost missed the chills shooting down his spine. Almost. Kaden stopped in his tracks, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. The wave of discomfort through him was strong, there was no way this was just a beast that had run out from the woods. This had to be a werewolf. The cat hissed through his plastic prison. He should really have taken that as a sign to just ignore it, walk back to his truck and be done. Instead, Kaden turned and headed towards the source of his hunter senses.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find when we made it out from the cluster of trees and towards the parking lot, but it wasn’t a naked guy. One that wasn’t half bad lo– Wait. Naked. Hunter senses. Putain. “Need any help?” he called out. A snarl came from the cat carrier. “Shush,” he said to the cat, tapping the top of the carrier as if that was going to help his case. “You’ll get home eventually, alright?”

_ 

He should have heard him coming. Alan knew that, but between the overwhelming stench of that sleeping bag she had given him (he realized he didn't know her name still and took note of asking her about it later on) and the fact that he was too focused on the millions of thoughts running through him then, he just didn't.

His phone and his car keys in one hand, the other bundling up his makeshift, stinky, polyester toga, Alan might have thought too early that victory was around the corner, which really was something he, of all people, shouldn't have fallen for. Desperate times really did their number on him.

While he reflected on how pathetic he must have looked to the other, who, of course had to be some handsome, Men's Health cover worthy man. 

It's fine Alan, just… turn the situation around, make yourself look like you're in charge. 

Of course. Of course. He could do that.

"By the looks of it, you're the one who needs help. What's wrong with that cat ?" Okay, not so bad. Just deflect.

The Maserati was just a few feet away, but then, so was his license plate. Would this guy manage to memorize it, and find out his name this way ? No. Of course not. And Alan figured that he could just ruin the dude's life if he did. 

"Just heading back to my car. I guess I must be getting too old for parties, huh?" 

_ 

Before coming to Wicked’s Rest, this would be an easy decision: hunt the werewolf. Of course, he’d wait until confirming that this man was in fact a werewolf before going straight to stabbing. Now Kaden didn’t know what his plan was. He definitely didn’t want to kill anyone who wasn’t a danger to others, but if he was a danger, it wasn’t as if he could sit idly by. It wasn’t even a full  moon. Or nighttime. How– why did it look like he had transformed recently? He would have to approach this carefully. 

Kaden was about to ask another question. Instead, his brows furrowed, looking down at the still hissing cat when the other man mentioned it. “It’s fine it was just–” The hunter caught himself before he continued.  “Hey, we’re not talking about me right now. I’m not the one walking out of the woods with a sleeping bag wrapped around him. Pretty sure you’re in the more questionable situation here.”

His eyes narrowed even more at the mention of a party. The cat slammed into the side of the crate, making it rattle in his hands. “Putain de merde,” he muttered as he put the crate down. He’d deal with whiskers later, he had to focus right now. “A party, huh? Must have been a fun night if this is the aftermath.” He approached the man, folding his arms across his chest, his hunter senses spiking with each slow step. 

_ 

"And why exactly are we talking about me ?" Alan knew that in this instant, he was being perhaps a bit too bold for someone who wore a sleeping bag as his only shield. "I am just trying to get back to my car, get home and get in the shower," anyone could relate to that, surely : having partied a bit too hard, woken up in an uncomfortable position with your mouth sticky and your whole body aching. Not that it was his case but this guy surely would relate? Right?

And if not, there was always option B : making the stranger uncomfortable, or option C : giving the stranger a good scare. Except that he really didn't want to do that. Going through his transformation process twice in just a few minutes was awful enough, he didn't want to have to go through it again. They said the pain diminished over time, Alan was convinced you just got used to it.

While he studied his options, Alan tragically walked closer to the other man, without knowing how much trouble that meant for him, all in the hopes to get his hands on the bag he kept in the trunk of his car. Car key in hand (those were a lot sturdier than his clothes, thank god), he clicked the button, if only to show that he was a legit person and not some homeless person who took naps in cemetery crypts. 

"Maybe I could invite you to my next party, if you're able to keep your mouth shut about it." A terrible idea if there ever was one. Alan didn't like parties, at least, those sorts of parties.

_ 

“Cause you’re the one of us risking indecent exposure here,” Kaden said. “One wrong move and that sleeping bag’s not gonna hold.” The sleeping bag was probably the least of his worries. One wrong move and Kaden was going to be face to face with a werewolf. There was still no telling what kind he was dealing with. Sure, they were all out of control but some were a lot more murderous than others. And he really wanted to learn a little more about that before this guy hopped in his car and sped away. He needed to know if he should go looking in the woods nearby for a body.

“Uh huh.” Kaden blinked, still trying to figure out how to go about this part of the hunt – if it was a hunt at all. “Not sure those are my kind of parties.” He tried to see if he could catch any glimpses of blood on the man, glancing at his fingernails, on the sleeping bag itself. It didn’t look clean, but it didn’t look blood soaked, he’d give it that. Kaden was well aware that didn’t instantly make this guy safe to be around necessarily; he still didn’t know a whole lot one way or the other. He just knew that he was a werewolf and that he seemingly was walking back from a wolfy romp in the woods.

The hunters' brows furrowed. “How’d your car get out here? I mean, crazy party where you ended up blacked out and naked. That’s a pretty convenient spot for your car given all that.”

_ 

“If that ever happens, the only correct answer is thank you,” he gave the other one of his cockiest grins yet, which was perhaps a bit bold, considering the state he was in. 

He clicked on his car keys, triggering his automatic trunk as well. “I have a change in the car, don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo,” but for all he seemed absolutely fine with the conversation they were having, a little voice in the back of his head was begging, quietly, to put an end to his misery. 

“Really? What are your kind of parties?” Alan sat on the edge of the trunk then, carefully blocking the duvet with one hand while he reached down to get his hands on the backpack in there, pulling it to the edge for the other to see. See, not a weirdo. “Do you mind? I don’t actively want to flash you, so if you could just turn around.” A pair of boxers in hand, he paid the animal control guy a look. Why did he have so many questions to ask him? Out of all people, why did he have to stumble on Hercule Poirot. “The cemetery is a short cut,” he assured him. “I don’t want to park her somewhere where she’ll end up dented or worse,” that much was true. Catch him park at the end of the supermarket’s parking lot so that Karen wouldn’t scratch his paint trying to fit a stroller between his car and her god awful minivan. 

_ 

It took Kaden a second to follow what the guy meant by his comment, but he rolled his eyes once he pieced it together. His checks were also weirdly warm. Must have been the sun. Either way, he sighed and turned around to let the guy change. If he wasn’t already certain that he was dealing with a werewolf, the change of clothes ready to go in his car would have tipped Kaden off.

“I try and avoid parties if I’m being honest,” he said with his back turned. Putain, this was stupid, turning his back on a werewolf. No self respecting hunter worth their fucking salt would ever just turn away and give the monster the advantage. A pit dropped in his stomach. The word monster. It felt strange to even think that after everything. Guess old habits died hard. “A short cut, huh?” he said, peeking back to see if the coast was clear to face forward again. He’d sure used that excuse before. “Guess you really did prepare for everything.” The cat in the carrier yowled at him from the ground, as if telling him to get the fuck out of there already. 

_ 

Alan pursed his lips, if only to conceal his amusement. It was never boring to watch a grown adult blush although he would never feel happier today than then, as he put his boxers on, at last. “You can look again,” he pointed out, while he folded the duvet carefully. Old habits died hard, and he couldn’t stand his stuff getting wrinkles and folds. Nevermind that this was one of the ugliest, stinkiest, polysteriest sleeping bags he ever touched. 

“That’s what I said,” he confirmed, reaching into his bag to get his hands on an old t-shirt from university. Putting it over his head, he smoothed out eventual wrinkles (did he mention how he didn’t like those yet?) and went on with a pair of shorts, a cardigan, his socks and finally, a pair of trainers that were only good for getting the trash out. “I suppose. It’s an old habit of mine. Always be prepared for anything,” he had some other survival kits in his car that were less aimed at his lycantropy and more with waiting for the tow to arrive, for instance. 

_ 

Kaden exhaled the tension he’d been holding onto as he turned back to face the man and his truck. Interesting to see him put the sleeping bag away so carefully, to the point that Kaden had to wonder if this was a frequent player in whatever wolf shit he was up to. Right, given how ratty it was, he was pretty sure he was better off not knowing.

The hunter squinted as he tried to make out what was on the other man’s tee shirt. “Air force academy?” he said. Interesting. Kaden wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, a werewolf who had been to the Air Force Academy, but it would explain some of this. Maybe. The being prepared part, perhaps. “Lucky habit to have I suppose.”

_ 

Nice reading comprehension. Alan’s eyebrows raised, and he looked down at his tee to double check on it. “That was a while ago,” you could tell his shirt had been in the washing machine several times over. You could also tell from the love handles on his waist. Running around the woods sure helped him get the recommended 8000 steps recommended by WHO, but was it enough compared to his appetite? 

“I have something similar at my house. They always told us we should be able to be operational in less than a minute back then,” and so he always had a suitcase packed with the essentials just in case something came up. But for all he liked being prepared, that suitcase had only been here ever since he was turned into a monster. With a slight smile, Alan looked up at the animal control officer, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Pardon my curiosity,” it was only fair. The other was one second away from asking for his social security number at this point, “but you’re not from around here, are you? I could swear I am spotting an accent here.” 

_ 

Kaden was considering it might be just about time to walk away since his detective work was clearly lacking, but then the man turned the conversation back on him. He was about to ask how this guy knew all that already but then the answer came. Right. His accent, of course. “Forgot about that for a second. But yeah, I’m from France.” He expected that the rest of the usual questions would follow so he might as well volunteer the basics. “Been here a few months. My cousins live in town so I’m staying with them for the moment.” Hopefully not for forever. Sure, it was nice not being alone but he also wanted a mattress to call his own someday. 

_ 

“Really? That’s exciting !” Alan had never been there, although he supposed it was one of those places you had to visit. He was drawn to Paris, but while he first researched werewolves, had found some stories dating back to Middle Ages France that had made him eager to visit Gévaudan. “Are you liking it here so far? Aside from this morning’s naked weirdo, I suppose?” He offered an apologetic smile and stood up to shut the trunk closed. 

“You’re living with your cousins,” he repeated, one eyebrow raising. This guy looked certainly old enough to detest having roommates, even if they were family, and Alan figured this could be a way to buy his silence regarding today’s incident. “I work in real estate. You should pay me a visit sometimes,” a pause. “If you were willing to tell no one about this, I might be able to offer a sizable discount,” he scratched at the corner of his nose, a slow smile spreading on his lips. 

_ 

“I guess so,” Kaden replied, his brows pinching together in confusion. It seemed odd to call fleeing from his home exciting but he wasn’t exactly about to get into that with the guy who was wandering around the woods wrapped in a well-worn sleeping bag and nothing else. 

“I am,” he affirmed, crossing his arms across his chest. Something felt wrong about cluing a werewolf into where he lived, possibly endangering Andy and Al–

His breath caught in his throat. Right. Alex. A werewolf already knew where he lived. She lived there, too. Kaden swallowed back the lump in his throat. The mention of real estate pulled the hunter out of his own mind. “That so?” he replied, arms slowly loosening their grip against one another. A place of his own. It was enticing. He loved his family but he missed having his own place. And his own mattress. His back missed that one the most. “Not sure I can afford much even with a discount.” He wasn’t destitute, sure, but there was a reason he was crashing on a couch. “Guess it doesn’t hurt to visit. I assume that’s not what you wear to the office.”

_ 

“Of course,” Alan raised his eyebrows. He really didn’t want anyone to find out about this. Sure enough, he liked to pretend to be above all that, but he didn’t take criticism too well. People talking about him behind his back was something he was used to, but he somehow drew the line at people criticizing his sense of style. He had disposed of shoes or ties before because his ears caught something they should not have. 

“We’ll see I suppose, I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” he offered a commercial worthy smile, holding out his hand. “It was nice meeting you,” he didn’t comment on his work clothes. It was best to leave this on a pleasant note, surely?

[ssolessurvivor]

kissing the tears that roll down your lover's cheeks.

memes - always accepting! - @goldenboybarracuda (in which I cry SO YOU HAVE TO ALSO)

Logan had shared significantly the lives he had his precious time with up on Mimas, those who became like family those five years. So it only seemed natural that on this day, restlessness and all, Logan invited Alex out to a little excursion.

He didn't exactly reveal where until he pulled into the parking lot of the cemetery. He'd gotten some little bouquets his sister put together earlier, so he walked alongside Alex in the wet grass, taking care to not trod on any of those names engraved there. He wouldn't disrespect anybody in that way, not even his worst enemy. Besides, his heart was too heavy today for any maliciousness.

He didn't have a bone of it left in his body.

Walking up to the group of freshly cleaned stones was tough enough, but Logan felt his eyes burning as he took a look at Alex and began placing the tiny bouquets one at a time. Boris. James. Hans. Robyn. Travis. Feng. Straightening his spine which feels as if it weighs a ton, hands try to settle in the pockets of his leather jacket before he feels the tears spilling. That arm over his shoulders did it, really, not that it's bad.

It was almost an invitation. An acceptance.

"I thought two years would be enough." Logan's voice trembles with the sadness carried into the chilled air, hands coming up to wipe at his eyes. "But it still hurts." Suddenly he's pulled into his lover's arms, and he feels his tears give way. How long had he been truly holding them in? Arms wrap around to hold Alex just as tightly, clinging, trembling. He knows this sadness will pass, but it overwhelms him even now, knowing they will all burn with starlight once the moon rises.

Alex shifts in his quiet way, taking hold of Logan's face in those warm hands and gazes at his mess of a boyfriend. Those lips come in close and land on the trails his tears have left behind, and Logan feels his heart warm. Moving to the other side, the veteran feels himself somewhat retaining his composure as he meets those eyes and offers a sheepish smile. Leaning in, he places a few short, clipped kisses to Alex's lips, those kind, gentle, sweet lips that have shown such grace when it comes to Logan's issues.

Logan knows now he would never trade that for anything in the universe.

[marcellabelanades]

Person: @netteliax Location: Amaranthus Memorial There is this nervous energy under her skin that hasn't ever quite been there before and she attributes it to the druidess. The cemetery used to give her an overwhelming sense of morbid peace and now every day she's there hoping for a glimpse of the woman, she is filled with this anxiety she hasn't known since she'd left her mother's home. It was one thing to plan, it was one thing to wish and hope, it was another thing entirely to be very close to the thing you wanted. In the last few days, she'd made so many daylight rings, pulled out a plethora of old spells to keep the wards on her house strong, her studio larger on the inside. Every day had been magical and there was this melancholy to it because she did love it, she always had. And yet a part of her knows she has not used it for good and for that, it does feel right that she forfeit it for her future, for everyone. It would be a poor way to atone for her sins, but it would be something. It would be something and she catches sight of the woman at the memorial and she walks up the hill to her and it does feel like a death march. "I told you I'd be back." Despite that, her voice is quiet, almost too calm. "I'm ready if you are. If it's something you'd do, I mean." She sounds so small, she feels so small beside her. Not a woman, but a child without a mother, still prepared to be scolded.