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we-have-bangtan · 4 years ago

Text

Again.

Pairing: Doctor! Yoongi x Patient! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Crack (??), Ex's, smut

Warning: Swearing, smut (just an old memory)

Synopsis: When Yn is forced to go to the hospital after falling down the stairs of her office. The doctor who was to attend to her was none other than her ex-boyfriend Min Yoongi.

A/n: let me know if you like it! And give me a reblog to support me!!!

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Yn turned over onto her back, her eyes still closed. She wondered silently why her normally soft bed was hard today. With another roll, she landed with a thud on the cold, hard floor, jolting her awake.

When the blinding lights of the room filled her vision, she suddenly regretted opening her eyes. She sat on the floor, rubbing her eyes to clear the sleep from them, oblivious to the drool on her chin. Her eyes opened in confusion when she saw the IV line on her wrist, her gaze following the line, attached to a bottle mounted onto an IV stand.

She sprang to her feet immediately, taking in her surroundings: the IV stand, the white bed, white walls, the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, the white floor tiles, and the white blinds that kept the sunshine out.

A hospital? She guessed as she took in all the equipment, the machines that beeped every few seconds were a dead giveaway. Is this a private room? She asked herself, trying to find any clue which hospital this was when the door swung open.

Min Yoongi entered the room, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He walked over to her side and encouraged her to take a seat on the bed.

"Where am I?" Despite the fact that she already knew the answer, she inquired. "Take a wild guess," Yoongi replied dryly as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. Yn racked her brain for the name of the hospital; she was certain she knew which one Yoongi had been working at, but her mind was blank, displaying only a buffering page similar to that of a 2004 Dell laptop.

"Did you really hit your head that hard?" Yoongi said what he was thinking, a little concerned for her safety. "Do you have a headache? Can you recall what you ate for breakfast or what happened just before you passed out? "He questioned.

"My head hurts a bit, so for breakfast, I had cinnamon crunch with milk, and lunch I had a sandwich. Walking down the stairs is the last thing I recall," She responded. All of her responses matched what her coworkers had told them, leading Yoongi to believe that Yn simply didn't know where he worked and that her head was okay.

He was irritated that Yn had no idea where he worked, but he forced his resentment to the back of his mind before informing her that she was in a private room at Asan Medical Centre in Seoul. "Wait, are you serious?" She yelled as she struggled to get out of bed.

"Yes, seriously," he explained, forcing her back onto the bed "You fell down the stairs in your office and one of your colleagues brought you in; you were unconscious for 5 hours; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you," he added. "Why on earth do you have no idea I work at Asan?"He demanded once he was done briefing her.

"I would have noticed if you hadn't blocked me on all your social media pages," Yn said after some thought. She hisses, reminding him why she was blocked in the first place. "I wouldn't have had to block you if you hadn't started tagging me in those dumb Facebook memes," he retorted as he paging one of the nurses to come to change the IV bag.

"Is there something bothering you? Aside from your head," Yoongi inquired, reaching for his fancy click pen, which Yn had given him in college. "You still use that?" She inquired, her gaze falling on the royal blue color of the pen, the brand name has faded over time. He calmly replied, "I started using it once I got my residence, now answer the question."

To search for any injury, Yn moved her limbs around, starting with her feet. She turned them around to look for any discomfort before moving on to her legs, which were still perfect. She eventually tested her shoulders and despite her best efforts, winced in pain as she raised her left shoulder.

"Left shoulder, okay. Do you feel nauseous?" Yn shook her head as Yoongi asked more.

"Any ringing in your ears?"

"Nope"

"Is that gray hair on your head?" Yn interjected, pointing to a few strands at the start of Yoongi's hairline. He dismissed her and instead scribbled a note on his clipboard.

"OK, so you don't have any concussion symptoms, your hearing is good, and you're not feeling dizzy and your eyesight is better than ever before considering the fact that you could pick out my gray hair from that far. We still have some blood work to do and I'm putting you on observation tonight in case any symptom pops up, you're free to go home after that," Yoongi informed.

He reasoned that saying anything else would be unprofessional of him. Heading for the door when, "Yah, why am I in a private room in the first place?" Yn intervened, preventing him from leaving. Yoongi replied, turning around to face her, "I figured it would be more convenient for you."

"Bruh, do you have any idea how broke I am," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I ain't a hotshot doctor to be able to afford a private room in Asan Medical Centre," she sneered. "Who said something about you paying?" asked Yoongi. As he returned to her side. "So, who is going to foot the bill? You? " She inquired, he nodded, causing her jaw to drop. She was perplexed by his words and asked, "Why would you do that?" "What good is it to be a hotshot doctor?" He shrugged.

The mental picture of a very sleepy and confused Yn, with her hair all tangled up and a tiny spot of drool on her face had made him soft, and there was no stopping his heart from falling head over heels for her all over again as he walked out of the room, the smile he had been battling slowly crept into place...

Yoongi peeked into Yn's room after his shift, his shoulders slouching from the stress of his job. He had his coat and stethoscope wrapped over his arm, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had taken, his white t-shirt clinging to his body.

When they were dating, one of Yn's 'rules' was that if he wanted to get close to her, he had to shower after returning from the hospital because she hated the scent of antiseptic. With the scent of antiseptic all over her, he wondered how she was doing.

He discovered her in bed, knees drawn up to her stomach, phone in hand, the screen almost brushing her nose as she mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. Her food, which had been left on the side table, had not been touched.

He warned, walking into the room, "You'll go blind if you keep doing that." Yn's head snapped up at his voice but calmed down when she saw who it was. He drew up a stool next to the bed and checked what Yn had received from the hospital. Soup, kimchi, rice, and pickled radishes were served on the side (Yn hated those). "Is the food not to your liking?" Concerned about her dietary habits, he inquired.

"They don't have any salt or spice," she replied as she stowed her phone. Yoongi grimaced after taking a sip of the soup. There was no salt or pepper and was as bland as raw tofu.

"SEE!!" Yn screamed, delighted that she had been proven right, but Yoongi, not one to concede defeat, put on a display. "How come it's so salty?" His face scrunched up in exaggeration as he groaned. "Stop acting, I can see right through you," Yn said, raising an eyebrow to call him out on his nonsense.

"All right, fine, you're right," Yoongi conceded as Yn yanked the sheets off herself and reached for his shoulders. He thought it was strange, but didn't say anything when she gently rubbed the spot near his collar, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as she applied pressure. He'd always thought Yn had magical hands. It felt like a miracle to have her hands on him again, something he had never expected to feel again.

"Can you tell me what I can do to get you to order me a plate of jjajangmyeon?" Yn asked. Yoongi thought, Darn it, I knew it was a trap, but he was too relaxed to say no. As she worked out the knots in his muscles, he melted under Yn's touch. She was no longer connected to the IV, enabling her to freely move about the room.

"I knew you were only in it for food," he chuckled, moving away from her to grab his phone from his coat, "What else did you think I was in it for?" Yn jested, playing along as she massaged his shoulders.

"Only jjajangmyeon?" He questioned, scrolling through the options, Yn looking at the phone from over his shoulder. "Order some side dishes too," she added, Yoongi let out a groan when Yn put pressure on THE SPOT at the back of his shoulder blade, the sound making Yn blush. "Stop that, people will think we're filing a porno," Yn scolded lightheartedly, continuing her ministering.

"I don't think we need to film any more of those, I have a whole collection already," Yoongi teased. His gummy smile showing up when he felt Yn's hand round his throat, threatening to choke him. "I think it's the other way round," he scoffed. His heart going into dangerous territory.

Yoongi remembered the night he had discovered Yn's choking kink, it had been a very eventful night. He had just come back home from the hospital when he had heard moaning coming from his bedroom, he had walked inside, totally unprepared for the breathtaking view that awaited him.

Watching porn wasn't considered cheating by Yoongi as long as Yn showed him what she was watching so he knew what they were getting into. When he walked in on Yn in his rotating chair, her legs spread out on the armrest, touching herself to a film about choking, he was pleasantly surprised. He went up behind her softly and wrapped his fingers around her throat, not putting much pressure. When Yn groaned for him, he felt himself harden in his pants and murmured, "You like that baby."

"Stop imagining it," Yn snapped, pushing away from Yoongi, "How do you expect me to just stop, those were some great moments of my life," he chuckled when his phone rang. It had something to do with the meal. He went to get the dinner by himself, leaving Yn alone.

When he returned with her dinner, he delivered it to her before saying his goodbyes and preparing to leave. "Enjoy your meal and get some sleep," he added as he gathered his belongings. "Where are you going?" Yn inquired. "Home??" Yoongi answered, taking his phone from the table when Yn stopped him. "Did you have dinner?" she asked, opening up the takeout box to reveal a generous serving of jjajangmyeon.

"Not yet, I was planning on getting some on the way," He answered, waiting for Yn to say anything. "Then you should stay and give me some company, it's not like I can finish all this on my own," She mumbled. "You sure?" Yoongi confirmed, taking his place on the chair as Yn grabbed the chopsticks from the bedside table, letting him have the wooden chopsticks that the restaurant provides.

They both dug into the meal, savoring every mouthful. In the otherwise peaceful hospital, just the sound of them slurping their noodles and the beep of the monitors could be heard. The majority of the patients were fast asleep, and those who were awake were taking special precautions to avoid making any noise.

Yn was the one who broke the stillness by inquiring about Holly. He said, licking his lips to get rid of the sauce, "She's good, I got her a ribbon for her ears the other day." He was intrigued about Yn's cranky cat, Buster, who had scratched Holly once. Yoongi's heart dropped to his stomach as Yn replied, "We had to put him down."

Although he was simply a large, sluggish cat who refused to get his butt off the window pane, Buster had been Yn's pride and joy, her support system. "That must have been difficult," Yoongi paused, unsure of how to express his condolences.

"It had to be done; he was in a lot of agony," Yn shrugged, shaking her head to clear her mind. "How are the boys doing? I haven't seen them since we broke up" Yoongi's six other friends were the subject of Yn's inquiry. He assured her everyone was ok. "You might see Jungkook tomorrow," he said, explaining that he had taken the day off today. "Does Jungkookie work here?" Yn inquired, quite surprised by the information. "Yes, he's an intern trying to get his residence, surprising isn't it," Yoongi admitted.

Yn burped after she finished her dinner, making Yoongi laugh at how cute she looked. Once Yn had freshened up, Yoongi said, "Ok, now that you've finished eating, I'll go home, and YOU'LL go to sleep." "You always leave," Yn remarked, rolling her eyes. The words weighed heavy on his mind as he tucked her in. On his way out, he turned out the light and gave her one last look before walking away.

Yoongi slouched his shoulders again once he was in his car. The words Yn had just said reverberated in his mind. Since he had broken up with Yn, the words "You always leave" had tormented him. He had been in love with her, yet he was the one who had abandoned her. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, HE LEFT HER. It was painful to recall the details of their breakup.

Yn crying into his chest, asking why she wasn't enough. Him holding her as fiercely as he could, not knowing if he'd ever get another chance. His cowardice had broken both of them that night. He'd run away from one of the most precious part of his life, and he still regrets it.

They had broken up because of him. Yoongi always believed Yn deserved someone better than him, she was too good for him. She had yelled at him when he had told her that. Saying that it was her who got to decide who was worth her time and affection, and if h really thought h didn't deserve her then maybe he should make himself deserving, she had said that that was the solution for Yoongi's thoughts, breaking up was not the solution, but he was stubborn as a mule, refusing to see how he was destroying both of them and everything they had.

And now here he was, striving to be less of a wimp than he had been all those years before. He remembered how enraged the boys had been when he told them what he'd done. "Have you gone insane?" All Yoongi could do was nod when Jin Hyung asked. Yes, he'd gone nuts, which was why he'd been insane enough to let her go. He had no problem admitting it.

He cruised around the deserted roads, far too late in the evening for anyone to be out. He considered calling Jin hyung for advice, but he opted against it because he assumed he was already in bed. For the rest of the night, he was alone with his thoughts, his mind eating away at him, keeping him awake at night, tossing and turning in bed, contemplating what they could have been if he hadn't been a coward.

The next morning was the same as any other, the only difference being the speed of Yoongi's car when he was on his way to the office. The usual 60km/h had escalated to 80km/h and he was certainly a little too excited for someone who was going to be at the hospital for the next 18 hours.

He was walking up the corridor to Yn's room after exiting the elevator on the third level when he heard screams. "MOVE, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE!" shouted Yn as Jungkook pushed her wheelchair down the slanted corridor quicker.

What the fuck!!, Yoongi thought as he saw Jungkook climb onto the wheelchair's back supports, watching in horror as the two of them laughed and giggled their way down the corridor at full speed (which wasn't much speed btw), completely disregarding the 'no noise' and 'no running' placards which were stuck to the wall.

He quickly stepped in the way, feeling a little sense of joy watching Jungkook's eyes widen in fright. Bringing the wheelchair to a screeching halt a few inches away from Yoongi. "Good morning, Hyung!!" he said cheerfully as if he hadn't just broken every regulation in the hospital.

"Can you tell me what you're up to?" His gaze fell on Yn, who appeared to be having the time of her life. "Relax, Yoongo-boongo," Yn remarked. Yoongi frowned at the old nickname, which he had pleaded with Yn to abandon.

"This is risky, you know," Yoongi said, "especially since you wounded your shoulder," He added, quick to understand that Jungkook had no idea about Yn's wounded shoulder. "You hurt your shoulder?!?" the younger one screamed. Yn scowled at Yoongi for giving up that knowledge so easily. Yoongi justified himself by saying, "Don't look at me like that, he was going to find out regardless."

"Yes, but you didn't have to tell him so early, now he won't let me have any fun." She whined, Yoongi scoffed at that, "he isn't supposed to make you have 'fun', he'd supposed to take you to get your x-ray done, it's on the first floor."

Yn pouted as Jungkook nodded at the instructions, pushing the wheelchair with Yn still in it towards the elevator. "Without the wheelchair," Yoongi clarified, making Jungkook pout as well, helping Yn out of the wheelchair.

They both sulked like kicked puppies in the elevator and Yoongi could not stand it. "Ok, fine, take the freaking wheelchair, but just be careful." he said, finally giving in. The two of them gave him bright smiles. Yn sat back in the wheelchair just as the elevator door slid open and Jungkook rolled Yn out.

They're fortunate. Yoongi thought to himself as he went about his rounds that Namjoon owned the hospital. While Yn was getting her x-ray, he checked in with his patients. Yn had a good night's sleep and awoke fairly early, according to the nurse in charge of her surveillance. She felt a minor headache, but nothing else was wrong with her. Only the shoulder was a big issue, and they were unable to determine what was causing the pain.

It took 2 hours for Yoongi to check up on all his patients and meet with a few others in the clinic when Jungkook barged into Yoongi's office with an envelope. "Jungkook you can't just barge in like that," Yoongi groaned as he quickly gave the patient their prescription before sending them out. Telling the receptionist to not send any more patients, he turned all his attention to Kook.

"Now, what's wrong?" He asked, spinning in his chair to face the intern. "Noona's reports are here" Jungkook informed, holding out the envelope. "So fast?" Yoongi questioned. It usually took a day or two for the reports and none of the radiologists took Jungkook seriously, dismissing him as just an intern. He found it suspicious that they had given the reports back so early.

"Namjoon hyung was there for an inspection, he got it done when he saw noona," Jungkook said with a cheeky grin. Yoongi nodded at the explanation. Namjoon always had a soft spot for Yn regardless of if Yn and he were together. He pulled out the reports, scanning through them. "Where is Yn now?" He asked, putting the reports back inside. Jungkook informed that Namjoon had taken her to her room, playing along with Yn's wheelchair drama.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at that, but Jungkook didn't miss the quiver of his lips. Jungkook followed Yoongi upstairs to Yn's room, where they found Yn squishing Namjoon's cheeks. Jungkook joined them, laughing, and Yn hastily let Namjoon free. "So, Doctor, what do you have to say?" Yn asked as Namjoon got out of the chair, rubbing his red-tinged cheeks.

"You must slow down with the usage of your shoulder. You appear to be putting a lot of tension on it; fortunately, it's only strain and nothing dangerous." Yoongi said, instructing Yn to apply heat and ice packs to the affected area. "Are you going to issue me a leave sick note?" Yn inquired as she got out of bed.

"Nope, you can go back to work just fine as long as you don't do any heavy lifting," Yoongi said, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Yah, Yoongi-ah pleaseeeee write me a sick note," Yn pleaded as she searched for the t-shirt she had worn when she had come into the hospital yesterday. "Nope, and are you really going to wear that?" He asked, surprised that Yn hadn't called anyone to come to pick her up.

"Yeah, I need to head home," Yn answered, gathering her things, "Wait, you can't wear that, I have a spare shirt in my office I'll get that," Yoongi said, getting out of the chair while Namjoon and Jungkook exchanged knowing looks.

"We'll get it hyung, don't worry," Jungkook assured, dragging Namjoon with him. The two of them got into the elevator before spilling the tea. "He is SO whipped!" Jungkook exclaimed, pushing the button to go downstairs. "So is she and did you know Yoongi hyung was footing her bill and he got her a private room?" Namjoon asked, amazed at the extent his extremely tsundere hyung was going to for Yn. "He's pretty much in love all over again, and the nurse said that Yoongi hyung spent more than an hour in noona's room," Jungkook informed with a giddy smile.

"Jin hyung NEEDS to know about this," Namjoon exclaimed but made no move to call their hyung, quickly going to Yoongi's office and grabbing the gray FG shirt which was in his locker before going back upstairs.

As soon as the boys returned to the room, Yn grabbed the t-shirt. She hurriedly removed the hospital gown she had been compelled to wear. Yoongi was quick to respond, instantly stepping in front of Yn so the two younger men wouldn't get a glimpse of his lovely ex's exquisite body, and only pulling away once Yn was covered in his shirt.

"You didn't have to do that, I was wearing a tank top beneath," Yn said, tucking the shirt's hem into the jeans she had worn the day before. "For safety reasons," Yoongi shrugged, avoiding eye contact as though it weren't a big concern that he was covering up his ex. Namjoon's sniggering at the entrance went unnoticed.

"Noona how are going home?" Jungkook asked, checking the time realizing it was his lunch break. "I'll take a cab, don't worry," she assured, grabbing her phone and keys from the bedside table. "I'll drop you home, it'll be hard to get a cab at this time over here," Yoongi said, following after her into the hallway as Jungkook and Namjoon watched.

As she approached the elevator, Yn commented, not really trying to stop Yoongi from coming with her, "There's a thing called uber Yoongi, I'm sure I'll catch a cab." "Jesus woman, will you ever accept aid without a fight?" Yoongi moaned as he snatched her wrist and brought her downstairs to get his keys.

"Aish is so stubborn," Yn grumbled as she trailed behind him, her hand slipping into Yoongi's. They didn't seem to be aware that they were holding hands.

"Jin hyung will be so happy hearing about this," Jungkook exclaimed, watching Yn and Yoongi argue like an old, married couple while holding hands as they went to the hospital parking lot.

"They look cute, 10$ that they get back together by the end of the month," Namjoon bet, moving away from the window of the private room. "Hyung, you literally own the hospital, I'm just a flimsy intern, how could you expect me to pay 10$," Jungkook whined making Namjoon laugh as Yoongi’s car spedmout of the driveway.

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cloudystevie · 4 years ago

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𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

hi! this is my first time make a reading list so i’ll see if i like it or not lol. this is everything i’ve read in the past 2ish weeks i believe? and i will be reblogging all these fics because reblogs are important!!!! ill be tagging those under ‘fic recs’ and what i would normally add in the reblog will be added here! if that makes sense! i think ill still be playing around with aesthetics and stuff so this might not be a consistent theme yet- okay i done rambling go read all these amazing fics!!!!

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ steve rogers ♛

↳ little scripta manet by @fangirlovestuff

this was just so? i loved it so much?? i an a sucker for friends to lovers tropes and normally i dont read angst (unless it has a happy ending because im sensitive skskdk) but this was the most perfect amount and i loved it!!! im so glad u found muse off my moodboard and u are so incredibly talented <3

↳ clench by @kleohoneyao3

i love the way you characterize steve so much!! he’s always the most perfect dom lol- i would also be highly embarrassed if he could feel my puthy throbbing while i sat on his lap lolll

↳ a compromise by @steebsbabygirl

bestie? this was so good i cry and sob how dare you??? i am a slut for thigh riding and steve and daddy steve so this was just... perfection <3 its so so so amazing especially for ur first smut!!!! i hope u write more😋

↳ cupid draw back your bow and let your arrow go by @chrisevansgoodgirl

you are so incredibly talented im always in awe when i read your writing!!! this was as always >>> top tier and i loved every second of it!

↳ everyday is valentine’s day with you by @steebsbabygirl

steeb crying make me sad i sob he is good boyfriend i want i cry <3

↳ 1-800-i love u by @brattycherubwrites

ugh ugh ugh i sob so hard!!! rosie u are so talented and i love your writing style so much ik i say this everytime but i’m always blown away by your aesthetic this was so so so good!!

↳ pretty little slut by @the-iceni-bitch

wow this was so good i just... stared at my ceiling for a little while tbh i love steve and i loveee mean possessive steve skjdkdkd

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ andy barber ♛

↳ red handed by @honeyloverogers

this was so fucking cute and hilarious and jacob being absolutely mortified sent me skdkkdkd ive never smoked weed before so idk what a bad trip is like but this was hilarious and i lub daddy andy lol

↳ rule breaker by @nony-bear

oh my god oh my god oh my god- daddy andy is so dkfjkwjflskkdksjd he’s all strict and stern and then the soft aftercare ugh i die

↳ golden hour by @devilsbaby-doll

ugh this was so soft and i love andy and i love u so obviously this was ... top tier amazing 10/10 loved it its my comfort fic <3

↳ just for mrs. barber by @donutloverxo

i just love ur writing so much and this was so so so good!!! grumpy andy not wanting to make friends with anyone (tbh same lol) but buying you a house because u asked for one?? sugar daddy???? i die <3

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ ransom drysdale ♛

↳ nothing to be ashamed of by @dadplease

waaaaa me loves ur fics so much they are so comforting and i love soft ransom because me is also scared of the dark lolll

↳ rouse by @stargazingfangirl18

no one will ever write ransom as top tier as u do. nothing more to add. i loved this and read it a million times kskskks

↳ those three words by @chrissquares

ughhh ransom being ransom and being love but still not wanting to say the L word first so he thinks hes slick 😫 i luv this so so so much!!!!!!

↳ white lace by @chrissquares

wowowowowowowowoowowoowfuckfuckshitshufuckfuckcufkcwowomg im——— speechless no words just horny ransom wowowoowow i wanna suck his cock :(((

↳ hop by @devilsbaby-doll

daddy ransom 🥺🥺🥺 this was so fucking hot i love this so much wowowowoowowowoowowoww i malfunction

↳ new man by @worksby-d

i love boyfriend ransom so much its not even funny and i knowww hed be a complete little bitch about it like u wrote skfjkdkd

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ chris evans ♛

↳ take it all off by @angrythingstarlight

ughhhhhh i die this was so fucking good i love it and i know hes such a competitive insatiable little shit this was so fucking gooddd i luv

↳ daddy! chris blurb- cookie jar by @honeychicanawrites

bitch i would turn into an oscar winning actress too the fuck??? i love ur daddy chris i think ur the first person that made me fall in love with him so of course like always top tier blurb <3

↳ playing cute by @afriendlyblackhottie

as always this was so fucking good i love ur smuts they are genuinely my favourite!!!! unbeatable and i love everything u post!!! this was so fucking filthy i love it skksks

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ frank adler ♛

↳ in like by @afriendlyblackhottie

once again i fucking love ur smut and frank is just so hot to me on another love i cant explain so of course u write him and i explode lol <3

↳ the franks by @fineanddandy

ive never read anything like this before and it was so good!!! i love the ‘other person being jealous’ thing and this was just >>>> baby daddy frank is so hot i cant breathe

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ ari levinson ♛

↳ favourite gift by @stargazingfangirl18

ugh i love ari hes criminally underrated imo and this was so good!!! so soft and just perfect ugh i die i love him <3

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

♛ stucky ♛

↳ candy hearts by @honeyloverogers

LITTLE STUCKY IS SO FUCKING CUTE IM YELLINGGGGG bucky would absolutely be the level headed one and steve would definitely be the most excited little baby who cant hold any secrets ughhhhhhh i luv this so much i cant even put it into words <3

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

#cloudystevie’s fic rec list #fic rec list 1 #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans x reader #frank adler x reader #ari levinson x reader #stucky x reader

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demonsandmischief · 4 years ago

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My Warrior Wolf - Ch. 3

Marvel - A Bucky Barnes Werewolf AU

Warrior! Bucky x Human! Female Reader

800 Words

Here's Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

-Chapter 3-

When things come to light.

---

It had been a few days since you had seen or heard from Bucky Barnes. Oddly enough, you missed him. There was something very comforting about his presence - something that felt like home.

Either way, your house had been keeping you busy. You had sanded the floors and stained them, plus painted the walls, just in time for your couch to arrive. It was the first of the furniture.

The season was turning warm, slowly but surely, so you decided to take a break from inside and work on the outside. The lawn needed mowed. The snow had matted the green grass at one point, but the sunshine had caused it to sprout up like crazy.

There were also a few flower beds that lined your house, and one around the mailbox. They were an overgrown mess.

The work in the house was fun, but this was your favorite.

Early Saturday morning became late Saturday afternoon. You wiped the sweat from your brow, straightened up from your position when a car driving up catches your attention.

You knew the car right away. Bucky.

He got out, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. "Hey," he greeted. "You hungry? I was just on my way to town for lunch. I was hoping you'd come with."

He looked very nice, as usual. The dark clothing suited him, and the shadow of a beard made you imagine how it would feel to kiss him. You shook the silly thoughts away.

You bit your lip to contain a giddy smile at his invitation. "I'm starving. Do you care if I shower first?"

He turned off the car and followed you inside. "Wow, it looks great in here, Y/N." Your name rolled off his tongue and you shivered slightly.

"Thank you. I can finally offer you a seat," you giggled, and he offered you an endearing smile that stunned you to the core. "I'll just be a minute."

Bucky took his time wondering your place as you showered. Slowly, you had added a personal touch and the whole house wrapped him in a warm hug. He had never felt this way before, not for Steve or Sam or anybody. And as much as he loved it, it also confused him. What had he done to deserve you? Why did he get his mate and his best friends didn't?

"Your work has been a gift to mankind, but if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and the world can't have the freedom it deserves. Does it seem fair that you mutts get all of the special abilities?"

Bucky shook the dark memory away. The pain still lingered. He would never forget the way it felt being tied down.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his arm.

He jumped back, looking alarmed.

"I'm sorry. I thought you heard me. I called your name," you stumbled through your words, confused by his reaction.

"Don't touch me," the words were a throaty whisper, and you tilted your head, wondering what was going on behind those haunted blue eyes. It looked like Bucky was experiencing something that wasn't there.

"I won't," you promised, still feeling bewildered. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks as a feeling of embarrassment swarmed you.

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, thankful for his leather jacket. What if you touched skin to skin? The feelings he had been fighting would have been magnified, and the already overwhelming situation might have become too much.

That wasn't the problem though - not the main one, at least.

Yet, he felt like an asshole for making you unsure and invalid. He was going about this all wrong. Maybe he needed to suck it up and talk to Steve before he screwed up and lost you for good.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, sincerely.

"You don't have to apologize," you mumbled, rubbing your arm as anxiety crept up your neck.

"I panicked. That's all." He wanted to make it better. He wanted to fix the awkward he created. "Are you ready to go?"

You weren't sure you wanted to anymore, but you couldn't exactly tell him to leave, not when he had come all the way out here to take you.

You gave a nod, "Okay. Are you driving or me?"

"I can drive."

Bucky followed behind you, pulling his phone out as you lock the front door.

Bucky: sos. screwed up. panicked when she grabbed my arm. think I've ruined everything. I don't know what to do.

The text from Steve was instant.

---

Steve: Tell her the truth.

Here's Chapter 4.

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #Sebastian Stan #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #sam wilson #steve rogers #werewolf! bucky #werewolf au #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes

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lazarus-harp · 4 years ago

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I hope this isnt strange, but do u have any etn fanfic recommendations? Been trying to read more hehe and you seem p active here in the fandom so I figured u might know of the good ones that are out there. Dont really care about format, like it could be either here on tumblr or on something else like ao3 idc. I like seasons 2 3 and 4 and dont have any triggers or whatever so I'm pretty much good with whatever you think deserves a read!! love your blog by the way, also if you wanted to recommend any other blogs to also follow that would be pretty nice, no pressure tho. Thanks in advance 😊

this isn't strange at all! i'm super honored to have someone ask me for recommendations on anything, so thanks so much for this ask! love engaging with people so, ya know! i'll go ahead and start with blogs to follow because that'll be a nice start to this, and then the fanfiction recs will be under read more.

some etn blogs to follow are :

@escapethenightcrack : i think this blog is a given! before i even started this blog, this one has always been floating around. there's all kinds of different content out there from varying seasons. not to mention the person running the blog is super nice and open to having conversations about the characters! highly recommend them for anyone looking for etn blogs to follow. you always get what you come for and they occasionally post questions you can respond to! fun time overall and i admire them a lot. please go check them out and follow if you haven't already! <3

@poeticpains : a newer blog on the scene but one of my favorites already, personally. they make a variety of things from embroidery to playlists which you don't often see in this fandom ; so following them is worth it because you never know what art form you might get for etn! and thanks to the abundance of reblogs, this fan blog helps you find other accounts if you haven't seen them already. overall a new blog that kinda has it's own unique style! they also reblog quotes and tag etn characters which i personally really enjoy and, again, haven't really seen done before. the person running it is also someone i highly respect! so yeah, go follow!

just realized that me singing praise to every blog tagged could get very tiring to read, so lemme just. finish up recommending blogs without all the theatrics. but every single one im @-ing deserves praise and they all post some intriguing etn content that either makes you laugh, makes you think, is simply just fanart/writing, or they have some sort of creative ideas for it they wish to talk about! and all of those things are cool to see! ahem so : @fishyspider, @thatotherothersideblog, @lydiais-dead, @elfie-loves-you, @remaking-machine , and @warning-rune !

obviously there's more blogs out there but these are the ones i would personally recommend for branching out. you'll probably find more blogs from these ones alone! for starters, i will immediately say that i have my own ao3 account! WitchyTwitchy! and anything in my bookmarks is highly, highly recommended. there's also my stories which are a tad old, honestly, but they're not the worst ever! but besides that, let's get into the nitty gritty fanfic recommendations!

then they kill you ( and then they love you again ) - the moment you asked for fic recs for etn, this was actually the first fic i thought of. it's a s4 fic that focuses heavily on rosanna and the trials she endures mentally in purgatory. this is a work that has stuck with me since it's original posting and always puts me in this weird grief-stricken mood due to how vivid ro's emotions are. the format could be a bit confusing to read given the long paragraphs and lack of dialogue marks ( " ) but since you don't mind that, i highly recommend! whenever i want to get in my s4 feels or even get inspired to write something heartwrenching, this is the fic i always go to.

how the story goes - another s4 fic that's just a nice, quick read. it mainly follows destorm and how his dynamic with alex changed over the course of the season, while adding a layer of depth to it. though this isn't a big fave of mine, i adore it nonetheless and believe it's one of the few etn fics that focus on alex/destorm in that season anyway, so! but that leads me to the next fic rec, which is from the very same author who wrote this -

love, and how to kick it - honestly, this is one of the first fics i ever read in the etn tag ever and it was a pretty solid introduction. if you're a fan of soulmate aus and hopeless situations, this one is for you! it's s3 and the main character is nikita, who goes through the story torn between her love for manny vs her soulmate-love for mat. which is handled extremely well and pulls at your heart, just how nikita's being tugged around by hers. there's some good ro/mat moments as well! genuinely a good fic all around and makes you want to see more soulmate aus in etn in the same vein as this!

if i fall - a s3 fic that's an au, but instead of changing the outcome of a death ( as you typically see ) it's making up a new challenge entirely and forcing the final five to endure it! this one is a refreshing fic to me and elaborates on dynamics in the current setting of the show in a very intriguing way. there's angst galore and everyone who has to do the challenge has thoughts that feel extremely in character for them to have, causing you to feel awful and torn between both teams. it's a decently long read, which the fandom definitely needs more of, so that's a plus as well! there isn't much more to say without spoiling it, but the creativity taken and the twists and turns are excellent. also, fyi, if you want to read more etn fics, this person is chalk full of them on their ao3 account! so check them out in general.

right down to the second ( i can feel my breath unfold ) - another s3 fic ( sorry! they just have the most fics ) but this time it's a nicely wrapped up 'how the final six can potentially live' au. the main reason im placing this down is because of how recent it is in the fandom, and i think it's very important to support works that have been posted recently. especially since writers ( and editors ) are the only ones keeping this fandom afloat! however, besides that, this fic is one of the better ones ive seen recently. i was not expecting the plot nor the friendship development this fic expertly dishes out. you can tell they really adored each member of the final six, and you'd be surprised how rare that is in the fandom. it's heartwarming and follows matthew caring deeply for everyone there and it deals with amazing trauma in the second work. definitely recommend

okay! to be brutally honest, besides the fics listed here and the fics you can find in my bookmarks, i can't really think of any other fanfics to recommend you? this took a while to come out, seeing as i looked through the ao3 tag a couple times and tried to pick my favorite ones. or the ones off the top of my head! while the fics here isn't a lot, every author on this list has at least one more etn work attached to them ; so feel free to gather more that way! i really hope this helped, and im beyond honored to be asked for fic and blog recs! makes me feel like im doing something in the fandom, if that makes sense? either way, thanks so much for this ask and for enjoying my blog ---- feel free to message/ask me things at any time! this was fun 🧡

#confessional - ( personal )#to my esteemed guests - ( answered asks )#escape the night #fic recs #( aaaah ive made it you guys ... people asking me for recs now 🥺 !!! )#( hope this is helpful! i really tried my best to find some good starters for you! etn lacks a lot of fics so )#( its a little hard to find a lot of gems but <3 theres some out there )#( i am also gonna start posting again soon with better upgraded work so if that interests you - stick around! )#( oh and yes please read the bookmarked fics. love them all but especially the ones by the ao3 user bronzefox !! so check them out )#( so we can gush together /j )#( anyway !! yup kinda all i have to say? hope everyone tagged isnt annoyed by it ! )

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nako-doodles · 4 years ago

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content creator year in review

--- tagged by @suggable @taemaknae @userjiminie @jinvant @jimimon @lifegoesmon @honsool @everythingoes @flipthatjacketjiminie @yoongi-BTS @hobibestboy @jiminslight @kimtaehyunq @taee ✨✨

i only started “”regularly”” making content this year bc of lockdown and i needed something to distract me before i went absolutely insane....i didnt realize i would get so much love and support for it so thank you. thank you for being there bringing laughter, light, love, life into this truly dark and difficult year. thank you for being my moot, my friend, my emotional support, my much needed safe harbor when life was being too much. i love you all such much and i hope y’all have a healthy, happy, fantastic, superb 2021 💖 cheers🥂✨

♡ first creation and most recent creation of 2020:

the inaugural: this moon/tonight inspired thing

the latest: bangtan welcoming the new year

the noticeable improvement aoejgioeagra let this be a lesson for everyone that “talent” is really just a skill honed from a lot of practice

♡ a new style you’re proud of:

this whole pixel art thing is something really new for me and im super happy that all of y’all are coming along w this journey w me. it pushed me a lot out of my comfort zone bc i havent serious giffed in y e a r s for a different era and fandom of tumblr and ive never done digital art before much less an art style so confined and well known and represented. color me slightly narcissistic and impressed w myself

♡ a creation you’re really proud of:

this one i made for jin’s bday! his houndstooth beluti jacket was the ABSOLUTE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE my LORD. unlike most of the things i draw i only had like...3 nonpotato reference photos of jin in it so i tracked down the jacket and figure out what the stupid pattern was. his eyes also made me want to punch my laptop and chuck it out the window bc i couldnt get his hamster face to read “jin” after like 320849032 iterations and erasing one pixel here and adding another pixel of a slightly different color there. i finished the entire thing within minutes of needing to post it in time for his bday even though i started more than a month earlier aojgiroeajgiior

♡ a creation that took you forever:

by jove this most recent one of bangtan dancing from their chilsung ads. i started this back in september/november thinking it would take like 2 weeks at most HA! i barely finished it in time to harken the new year 🤣🤣 animating it was especially challenging because i had to draw and animate the first half going forward, and then last half going backwards so it would loop right and THEN i replayed and rechecked all 60 some frames to make sure there weren't any glaring colour or continuity issues the fortnight before posting it bc things weren't lining up. for a first attempt, i think it looks good......if you dont like....look at it too closely

this one of their pj party bts run one also took me 2 months to finish afjgioraejgio i didnt think i was able to finish it tbh im glad it turned out well. it was my first attempt in animating complex motion and perspective and i think it turned out well. you can barely hear past me phantom screaming about it.

♡ a creation from 2020 that received the most notes:

this rollercoaster derby one from bts week on whichever late night show it was. it just made me really happy seeing tannies zoom by like that and im glad most of you agree

♡ a creation you think deserved more notes:

rather than “deserve” i think we as a fandom should do a better job in reblogging and support your content creators you feel?

♡ a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it:

i was planning on doing that ‘top 20 songs of 2020′ tag so I made a lil thing for sunmi, day6, lee hi, and ha:tfelt, but i ran out of time and motivation and decisiveness to finish all 20 (sorry dreamcatcher and apink for abandoning you midway aoijgriojgrao)

♡ a creation you made that breaks your heart:

idk something about this shot of jk tilting his head in the life goes on mv makes me....懐かしい? i tried to encapsulate the Feeling™️

♡ a ‘simple’ creation that you really love:

this ly photoshoot one of jin and the professor jin whistling one. theres not too many unique frames but they make me really happy looking at them

♡ a creation that was inspired by another one:

this yoongi daechwita one was inspired by my dash losing its mind at this iconic shot and the colouring was inspired by @lifegoesyoon

♡ a favourite creation created by someone else:

god everyone made such incredible work im going to try my best to not forget anyone:

-- @yoongikook and the art movement gifsets truly the galaxy mindedness of everything im in awe

-- @syubb and these gfx???? truly what in the ever living fuck do mortal limits mean nothing to you?

-- @jsuga and these insane gfx Jesus Christ spare talent pls? *shakes her empty beanie*

-- @everythingoes and her 100 days of joon; thank you for personally curing my myopia one joon gif at a time

-- @seoksjin and all her jin content is what saved my entire year tbh thank you ellie

-- @agustdfeatrm and this happy series seriously cured my depression

-- @minhope and this uNREAL ability to make such gorgeous gfx god im planning a museum heist and hoarding all of these like a dragon hoards gold

-- @jungshiii and their gorgeous art museum gfx and this ‘how's quarantine goin’

-- I am in love w everything @bangtanger colours

-- @hobibestboy and @eternalbulletproof and their crystal clear gifs that gave me Enhanced Vision even vision is jealous

-- @slipped-away and all of these goodies

-- @thebtsprint and their posters and gfx w o w

-- @bigswigofmilk their art style is so iconic and cute!!!!

♡ some of your favourite content creators from the year:

im ngl but im having that O M G SENPAIS NOTICED ME moment rn like everyone who tagged me I was like *amber ruffin voice* WWHHHHAAAAATTTTT like wow the talent in this fandom really be UNREAL so everyone who was tagged above as well as:

@chaylani @wabisaba @soie @hopekidoki @seokjinite @houseofarmanto @j-sope @yoongiandthebiaswreckers @joenkook @hosnack @jellyseul @jiminslight @jung-koook @joenns @hixtapes @hobeah @kkulmoon @lucid-jjin @bwijoon @jiminswn @shinhye @varietae @jintae @dearbangtansonyeondan @syuga @ynki @yibiart @samwol @kimnamtaejin @seokjinyoongis @introtae @jhoper @jinstaehyung @himbojoon @jhopetodream @eternal-bangtan @jcngkooks @faerieth @taejoon @jimint @jjoon & @/jinv (*sends a bottled message into the metaphorical ocean w my love bc ocean pollution is a no-go*)✨🌸✨💖✨

♡ and for good measure, another couple more creations of yours that you love:

drop by seokjin’s and have a milkshake🧋you deserve it after reading this entire thing

♡ tagging: everyone above who hasnt done this as well as anyone who wants to 💖💖💖 have a lovely 2021🌸

#*stage whisper* am I finally inducted to the cool kids club?? mom I MADE IT #I hikey didnt think I have enough posts to finish this tag tbh I was pleasantly surprised #I think pixel art really taught me both the importance of details and also that perfection isnt important or necessary for art #like im usually not a patient person and strive perfectionism to a fault #this was a good exercise for me thank you post shower past shirley #ii think my obaachan would be veery happy to learn Im starting to find beauty in places that are imperfect #with age comes 侘寂 right?#im barely a full-time cc thank you for indulging me anyways 💖💖💖#hash tag games

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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cricketnationrise · 4 years ago

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For every post I created, I reblogged 20.0 posts.

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#omgcp - 1492 posts

#ive been loving queue - 501 posts

#fanart - 481 posts

#dex - 293 posts

#fic rec - 292 posts

#caps lb - 271 posts

#nursey - 233 posts

#zimbits - 213 posts

#nurseydex - 205 posts

#jack 110% zimmermann - 178 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#holster's already on his way to the rink to get you but just stay on the line with me until he gets there

My Top Posts in 2021

More Cheese than a Dairy Farm

for @adambirkholtz and also how dare you :D

_X_

1. after the last practice of preseason

“Great job guys, good work today. Take tomorrow off and get ready for classes to start, and then regular practices start tomorrow night,” Dex says.

“And the first team breakfast is Wednesday after morning practice!” pipes up Chowder.

There’s a general rush to shower and leave, guys chirping each other left and right. Nursey finally feels at home. He closes his eyes while he waits for C and Dex to wrap up so they can head to Annie’s. He’s a senior. He even knows what he wants to do after college. Life is good.

“Hey. Hey Nursey.”

“What Dex.”

“Feel my shirt.”

He opens his eyes to see Dex holding out the edge of his t-shirt with a smile and doesn’t try to fight the rush of affection that comes with it. He reaches out and rubs Dex’s shirt.

“It’s nice. Soft.”

“Know what it’s made of?“ Dex asks.

“No? Cotton? Should I know?”

Dex smirks and leans closer.

“Boyfriend material.”

Nursey bursts out laughing. He can’t help it. Coming out to him and C over the summer had been a huge step for Dex. He was so much more relaxed and, though he would never say it out loud, chill now. Chill enough to use horrible pick up lines on Nursey of all people.

“Dex that’s so bad oh my god,” Nursey manages to wheeze out between laughs. He looks up to chirp him more and sees that Dex looks proud of himself despite the fire truck level blush he’s rocking.

“You guys ready?”

Dex reaches his hand out to help Nursey off the bench. “Yeah we’re good Chowder, let’s go.”

Still laughing, Nursey just says “boyfriend material” to himself, takes Dex’s hand and they leave the locker room.

_X_

2. During Spookykegster

It’s an excellent party. They won their game last night, and there’s no practice or classes in the morning to wake up for. Ideal conditions for sure. And his best friends are on NurseyPatrol, which, to be fair, hasn’t been needed since sophomore year, and has now evolved into the best excuse to hang out with Dex and C for some quality Frog Time.

“You mind if I leave to go over to Cait’s?“ Chowder asks, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

“Ooooooh we see how it is, don’t we Dexy? Not even our epic friendship can hold a candle to the lovely Farmer. What ever shall be done?” Nursey says as he sways into Dex.

“You’re good C, take off. Come help with clean up in the morning and it’s all good,” Dex says, his hands automatically coming up to catch Nursey before he overbalances and falls.

“Bye guys! Have fun the rest of the night!”

And now Nursey has a slight problem. Tiny really. It’s just that now he’s alone with Dex. Dex who is actually wearing a costume for once. He’s dressed up as Woody from Toy Story and Nursey might be having a hard time not staring at Dex’s ass in those jeans.

It’s fine.

“You want to get another drink? Or are you going to dance?“ Dex asks.

“I think drink,” he says, moving toward the kitchen, “I need another beer I think before dancing. Want one?”

“Ayuh, sure, thanks Nursey.”

He goes and comes back, handing Dex a can as he leans back against the wall next to him. He’s drinking and scoping out a potential dance partner when out of nowhere he hears,

“Are you wearing space pants?”

“What? No? I’m wearing jea-”

“Because your ass is out of this world,” Dex finishes a little too loudly, blushing furiously.

“What’s this Dexy? You flirting with little ole me?” Nursey flutters his eyelashes and delights in watching Dex’s blush deepen and spread down his neck.

“I - well - you know - I - no?”

“Chill Dex. I know you’re just practicing, en bee dee,” he says just to watch Dex’s eye twitch at the spoken letters. “Gotta go see a boy about a dance. Catch up with you later.”

Nursey laughs to cover his disappointment and goes to dance. Now that he knows Dex isn’t serious and his beer is finished, it’s time to dance.

_X_

3. At Founders a Week before Finals

Nursey is stressed okay? Just because he’s got an internship lined up for credit for next semester doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need to study. And his Harlem Renaissance paper is kicking his ass. But once he finishes this draft he can take a break. He just needs to focus. Or another coffee? Maybe he just needs -

“It’s a good thing I have my library card because I am totally checking you out,” Dex whispers, from the chair next to him.

Nursey starts to snigger, trying to keep from making too much noise in Founders.

“You been saving that one just for me Dex?”

“Just thought you needed a little break from your paper,” Dex says, trying to be nonchalant about it, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and his ears are bright red, giving him away.

And.

Nursey can’t hold it in anymore, and starts hysterically laughing.

He’s still laughing as the librarian swoops down on them and demands they leave. What a horribly cheesy pickup line. And from Dex of all people.

_X_

4. Nursey’s Birthday

All the card says is “We’re not socks but I think we’d make a great pair.”

But, he recognizes the handwriting and it was left on his pillow so he digs his phone out of his pocket, laughing.

Me: woowwww dex

Me: this one is so cheesy if i didn’t know better i’d swear you’d have a fondue machine down there

As he changes out of his jeans and gets ready for practice in an hour his phone pings. He opens Dex’s response and promptly has to sit down. William J. Poindexter has responded with a selfie. It’s a little blurry, clearly taken while he walks home from his programming class. It’s unseasonably warm for February today, so the pink across Dex’s freckles are 100% blush.

Dex: Happy Birthday, Nursey! Hope it made you laugh.

Something about the picture makes Nursey’s breath catch. He doesn’t feel like laughing all of sudden. He doesn’t want to examine the swooping sensation in his stomach too closely. That way lies madness.

_X_

5. March

It’s been a brutal practice. But no one is complaining. They’re in playoffs. Everyone wants to do well. And Dex is a great captain. He’s really come into his own this year.

But today was like Bitty was still here; Dex put them through a whole practice of the Russian calisthenics that Bitty had adapted from his figure skating coach.

Everyone was wiped.

“Dex, you’re my best friend but I hate you so much right now. If you were a punching bag all that would be left would be a pile of sand on the ground.”

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

He couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“Oh stop making me laugh, I can’t feel my abs as it is,” Nursey says, looking over at Dex.

“S’just the truth,” Dex mumbles, flushing abruptly and turning away to dig in his bag for his shoes.

“Fine print,” he snorts and hauls himself up to go refill his water bottle.

_X_

+1 After Winning the Frozen Four

Nursey doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. They’ve won the Frozen Four for the second year in a row. Chowder had a shut out, and both he and Dex had scored. It was truly a perfect game.

He knows he still has to get through the rest of his internship and finals but right now, he’s on top of the world.

He and Dex are crammed into a too-small booth for their combined shoulders with Chowder and Farmer (who flew out to watch the game) opposite them. Nursey feels good, floaty and glowing. They won, his friends are here, and long-established convention means he gets to be pressed up next to Dex. Not an inch between them.

It wasn’t like he was unaware his crush was getting astronomical. And it didn’t help that Dex kept feeding him pick up lines all this year. Lately, they’ve been a small torture, wanting Dex to flirt with him for real.

Whatever.

He’s here. Dex’s here. Nursey’s happy.

Dex has never looked better. Confident and loose like he usually only gets at the Haus. The lights overhead highlight his freckles and Dex’s hair, a touch too long and starting to curl after not cutting it through playoffs. Nursey’s staring. He knows he is. With a herculean effort, he tears his gaze away and tries to focus on what Chowder is saying.

“-And wasn’t it s’wasome when Bully checked that guy right before he could get to Whiskey and -”

“Breathe, babe,” Farmer says fondly, “They were there too.”

Nursey leans further into the leather, relaxing when they leave. As happy as he is, he is tired, and the booth is comfortable. Especially with Dex so close.

They’re all chatting too loudly about The Martian and he’s laughing at Farmer’s Donald Glover impersonation when Dex suddenly winks at him. Nursey almost falls off his seat. Dex leans closer, and whispers in his ear.

“Hey Nursey?”

“Yeah?” Nursey can barely breathe.

“Even in zero gravity I would still fall for you.”

Nursey doesn’t blush. Which means the heat he feels in his face must be a symptom of a fever. His throat is dry enough it might be true.

“Ha ha Poindex-” he abruptly stops talking when he feels Dex’s hand cover his own on the seat in between them and his fingers curl around Nursey’s own.

“Oh holy shit,” he whispers, “Really Dex? Now? With a cheesy pick up line no less?”

“S’thematically appropriate,” Dex shrugs and then tilts his world upside down with, “I got tired of you thinking I was joking around the other times I tried flirting.”

“Wh - I - I -” Nursey has no words. For once in his life.

“Its a good thing you’re pretty,” Dex chirps before leaning in an kissing his cheek, holy shit.

“FINALLY!”

They both jump and look around at Chowder’s shout. C’s beaming at the two of them.

“Do you know how much in back fines the two of you owe?!?!”

Dex just laughs and hides his (bright red) face in Nursey’s neck and Nursey tries not to melt.

“I think we’re good for them, C. It’s chill,” Nursey says, not looking away from where his fingers are curled up with Dex’s.

The fines are worth it.

158 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 22:32:56 GMT

195 notes • Posted 2021-05-09 03:53:07 GMT

pspspss for @pecanplease based on this post

_X_

Larissa Lardo still isn’t sure about the whole “hockey manager” thing. It’s decent money, and the guys are nice enough, but they’re an art student for fuck’s sake. (They’re keeping the name whatever happens, its cool as shit, and fits way better than they’re given name). What are they even doing here, hanging out at the Haus when there’s not even a kegster happening. It’s 3pm on a Sunday in November and they’re standing on the porch, still debating whether or not this is a good idea.

Fuck it whatever they think, and push open the door, braced for the inevitable wave of sound that normally occurs.

Nothing. There’s no one in the living room, no sound from the tv, no blender being subjected to Jack’s protein shakes. Where is everyone?

Shitty told them to come hang, and there’s no way that he would have been deliberately cruel. He’s here, even if the rest of the haus-dwellers are out. As they move up the stairs, it’s still freakishly quiet until they get to Shitty’s door, and Lardo can finally hear talking. They knock and after Shitty yells, “Lards get your ass in here!” Lardo pushes the door open. They take one look around, curious, and -

That’s their art on the wall. The pieces Lardo threw in the dumpster two weeks ago, angry at the world and coming off a horrible critique from her professor. The small triptych of ducklings. The abstract inspired by Lake Quad. The small portrait of their neighbor back home. The still life of a pong table they painted after the first kegster of the year.

The white noise in Lardo’s ears clears long enough for them to hear, “ - just left in the dumpster by Faber can you believe it? Who would want to throw this stuff away, it’s fuckin’ sick! I made Jack help me carry it back here there was no way I was going to risk someone else taking it or the trash guys coming before I could get back for a second trip, ya know?”

He put their art on his wall. He put their art on his wall. He went out of his way and made his best friend help gather their art and put it. On. His. Wall.

“...Paging Dr. Lardo. What’s up with you Lards? You look like someone hit you over the head.”

“That’s my stuff up there,” they breathe, not able to catch their breath properly yet from the sudden desire to cry.

“What?”

Lardo clears their throat, do not cry do not cry do Not Fucking Cry -

“That’s my art on your wall. I tossed it two weeks ago right before practice.”

“HOLY SHIT BRAH! Lards, that’s s’awesome! You have to sign it for me, all of it, right now - where’s my sharpie?” He’s rummaging in his desk, still chattering excitedly, when he straightens up suddenly and spins around, eyes narrowed. “Wait. I found it in the dumpster. You threw it out. Why would you throw this stuff out? It’s seriously so good Lardo.”

“Just a bad day I guess,” they say, trying not to make it a huge deal. Lardo doesn’t want to poke that raw place inside themselves just yet. Not even in front of Shitty.

Shitty just looks at them for a second, considering. For a second, Lardo thinks he’s going to pry and that is not going to go well. At all. Then his face clears back to it’s normal amusement. “Well, I’m even more vindicated in forcing Jack to help me. And you’re still signing this stuff. Get over here.”

Lardo goes, and can feel the corner of their mouth quirking upward, almost against their will.

Cool, so we’re doing this. Managing the hockey team.

308 notes • Posted 2021-07-24 02:21:28 GMT

He gets the notification almost as soon as he gets to the rink for practice. CALENDAR REQUEST FROM GEORGE: 2 P.M. AGM OFFICE, FOURTH FLOOR, ETHICS & SEXUAL IDENTITY DEBRIEF.

An hour later, there are several protein shakes and a PowerPoint cued up. The first slide says: SEXUAL EXPERIMENTATION WITH TEAMMATES, A GRAY AREA

“Before we start, I want to be clear, I fully support you in this, and I’m so glad you felt comfortable telling me. But this is frankly a logistical and ethical clusterfuck so we need to make sure we have our ducks in a row.”

“George, I --”

The next slide is titled: EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY, BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH SOMEONE ON THE FALCONERS?

She apologizes for not having time to come up with better titles. Jack is actively wishing for the sweet release of death at this point, but before he can correct her, George is moving on.

FALCONERS FUNDING, TRAVEL EXPENSES, BOOTY CALLS, AND YOU.

“From college!” he bursts out, “I’m dating one of my teammates from college.”

George blinks rapidly, disconnects the laptop for a second, types rapidly, and when she reconnects it the screen reads:

WELL THAT IS A WHOLE OTHER POWERPOINT JACK

(and you should tell Marty so he can have you both over for dinner)

@ivecarvedawoodenheart this came to me in a dream which is 100% your fault(affectionate)

383 notes • Posted 2021-06-03 14:08:28 GMT

okay so i can’t stop thinking about how the old guard and good omens is a perfect crossover

andy keeps running into crowley and aziraphale and being all, why did i not dream about you?????

crowley and aziraphale at the crusades watching joe and nicky meet and being all “oh how cute they think that’s coming from opposite sides” (in later centuries they go on double dates)

crowley and aziraphale being too busy for an assignment and the other can’t cover it so they leak the situation to the guards

the guards teaming up with aziraphale to actually find the baklava that stumps andy

480 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 14:11:00 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#cricket writes #tumblr stuff #year in review

5 notes · View notes

khoicesbyk · 4 years ago

Text

Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 4,040 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: Bittersweet-After 7

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @rideordiechronicles @pixie88 @txemrn @lucy-268 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @bebepac @imturaxamara @blackkingliamstan @queenjilian @secretaryunpaid @ridgy--didge @theworldofprompts @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

Prompt Time! Today I’ll be using @theworldofprompts prompt “What do you want me to do, dress in drag and do the hula?” it'll be in bold in black. Also I know that I can’t be the only one who’s excited that they picked the greatest Disney movie one-liner as a prompt.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

A/N 2: I had a time writing this chapter. Writers block and all out forgetfulness is a bitch! But I did it! *pats self on the back*

TW: paranormal activity. Communication with the dead. Reader Discretion Is STRONGLY ADVISED.

Chapter 22.) Reflection.

It′s crazy how you flaunt your passion.

When you let meaning of them worth take over you.

You stare into my soul like that.

Makes me wonder when you ain't get by the side of me.

It′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you, you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It′s bittersweet.

It had been 3 days since Naia was rushed to the hospital because of Wolfbane being in her system. Her parents, especially her mother, were both distraught and furious that their daughter had gotten herself caught up in the tireless war between The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory. Those three days felt like years to them. Both took turns sitting vigil over their daughter.

The only saving grace was that her condition hadn't changed. It hadn't gotten better but Laurie and Shane were thankful it hadn't worsened. They just wanted her to open her eyes. Laurie needed her daughter to wake up. She had to hear her voice again. And every moment that she didn't the more she went crazy. Laurie would just sit at Naia’s bedside holding onto her hand and pray Naia would squeeze her hand. The agony of waiting was going to kill her.

“Anything?” her husband asked as he entered the room with coffee in hand.

Laurie just shook her head no.

“It'll happen, baby. It has to. She'll wake up and we'll be able to breathe again.”

She never said a word to him. She just held onto Naia’s hand as Shane set the cup of coffee he brought her down. Laurie's eyes were red and puffy and her face was a mess. She blamed The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory but mostly she blamed herself. She swore to protect her daughter from all of this. To prevent her from going through the hell she went through over 30 years ago. And feels like she failed. A pain no mother wants to go through.

Laurie rubbed Naia’s knuckle silently, willing their daughter to wake up.

“Have you eaten baby?”

Laurie shook her head no.

“You should go eat something baby.”

“I don't want food. I want our daughter. I want her to wake up now.”

Shane sat beside her and placed his hand over hers.

“I know, baby. I want that too. I need it. You need it. But it's not good for you not to eat something.”

“I can't leave her! What if she wakes up and I'm not here?! I have to be here!”

Her frantic tone worried Shane.

“Baby listen to me! You need to go eat something. I'll be right here. I will watch over her. If anything happens I swear to you that I will tell you immediately.”

“But Shane—”

“No buts! Go eat something. Now! I won't let anything happen to her. I swear that on my life.”

Laurie looked at him before getting up and going to the door. When she looked back towards Naia, Shane smiled softly at her.

“It's okay baby, I'll keep her safe.”

Laurie nodded sadly before walking out the door.

Shane turned his attention back to their daughter, his worry, resentment, rage, sorrow, protectiveness, and anxiety all on high. His little girl. His flesh and blood. She hadn't moved or spoken since he last saw her. He was thankful for the hospital staff. They were able to get her allergic reaction to Wolfbane under control but she was still unconscious. None of the meds she was on seemed to be working.

It′s so easy to listen.

When your tongue is an innocent prisoner of war oh yeah.

And it might bе wrong but we never еnd that.

Damage is done, always pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

It didn't take Laurie long to come back from the cafeteria. When Shane looked up she walked in with food for them both.

“I'm not the only one who needed to eat.”

Shane smiled softly as she handed him a sandwich.

“Still nothing?”

“Still no change. But I'm not giving up.”

Laurie smiled at her husband's resolve. They sat together and ate their food in silence. Their eyes went from Naia to the IV drip machine she was hooked up to.

“Don't worry baby. Our girl will wake up.”

“I know she will. She has to. And when she does…we have to tell her the truth.”

Shane looked at his wife confused.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re ready to do that?”

“Look at her Shane! She wouldn't be here, hell we wouldn't even be here if she knew the truth. It's time. So when she wakes up and is lucid enough to hear it we'll tell her everything.”

Shane took his wife's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay. If you’re ready and you're sure. Then I am too.”

Laurie offered him a small smile.

Yeah I know you know me.

That′s why you the only one can push my buttons.

Sometimes it's like you speak another language.

Got me like adios buenas noches baby.

Oh it′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's always bittersweet.

While her body was still, Naia was subconsciously awake.

“Naia…”

Naia slowly opened her eyes, and looked around frantically and confusedly. She couldn't see anything or anyone.

“What? Where am I?”

That's when she heard a woman's voice.

“I've been waiting to meet you.”

When Naia turned around she saw a figure she didn't recognize.

“Who’s there? Who are you? What is this place?”

The figure in front of her soon materialized into an elderly black woman. One that she recognized.

“Oh…my…God! You’re…you're…Delia?”

She smiled at Naia.

“Hello, my dear. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”

Naia’s jaw dropped.

“But how?!”

“I thought you…you died a long time ago!”

“I did. 3 years ago.”

“Wait! Am I dead?”

Delia laughed softly.

“No dear, you’re not dead. You are in the world between worlds.”

Naia blinked in realization.

“I was here with Roman. Where is he?! Is he hurt?! Did Trent shoot him?!”

Delia placed a calming hand on Naia’s shoulder.

“All will be revealed shortly. I promise.”

Naia took a shaky breath then nodded.

“Now come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Naia followed Delia to a bench that appeared out of nowhere. When they sat down Delia cocked her head to the side at Naia curiously. Making her feel super awkward.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No. I’m just curious about you. You’re as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

Naia couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up on her face.

“A ghost just called me beautiful. I must be hallucinating.”

Delia chuckled.

“You said we had much to discuss. What are we discussing?”

“You, my dear. Your connection to the town, the people, and especially Roman.”

“I mean I’ve been in town for a few months. I don’t know anyone outside of my uncle Trent and the Pack.”

Delia nods.

“And what are your impressions of them so far?”

Naia chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course dear. That’s why we are here.”

“I understand why my mom doesn’t want me around Roman. Because to be honest, he’s terrifying. But at the same time…I can’t stay away from him. I can’t get enough of him. He makes me feel safe. And loved. And wanted. And I…”

“Yes?”

“I care about him. A lot. But I don't know if I'm ready to give up my life for him. I don't know if I'm ready to be his mate.”

Deli nodded.

“It is a lot to ask of a young woman. I would know.”

“How did you decide Delia? Or was it decided for you?”

Delia chuckles softly.

“It wasn’t my intent to be Xander’s mate when I first came to Hunt’s Peak.”

Naia blinked in confusion.

“You’re not from Hunt’s Peak?”

“No. Originally from the Pittsburgh area.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I grew up in foster care so it wasn’t like many had missed me when I left.”

“So what brought you to Hunt’s Peak?”

“I was hired as a 5th teacher. I loved my job. Teaching children became my passion.”

“And how did you meet Xander?”

“I’ve always been a Wolfkin and I knew it was my destiny to become the mate to a member of The Pack but I never thought I would be Xander’s mate. But to answer your question, I was walking along the creek when I saw him and his father Ferdinand. We were smitten at first sight.”

“Oh…did his father accept you?”

“Yes, he did. And after some convincing so did his mother Cecilia.”

“When did Xander become Alpha?”

“Shortly after we met. Maybe 6 months or so.”

“Is that when you became his mate?”

“Yes. He courted me until he became Alpha.”

“Courted how?”

Delia smiled as if lost in a memory.

“He would come by the school. Regale my students in wild tales of werewolves as knights and kings and sorceresses and sorcerers. That sort of thing. But the biggest thing he did for me, was he planted a single night flower and let it blossom into a field full of them.”

“Sounds like he was a romantic at heart.”

“He used to be but when he became Alpha, responsibility and obligation replaced flowers and romance.”

“Was it hard?”

“No. Not at first. I always understood my role as The Alpha’s mate. And I cherished it. Becoming a sort of Den Mother gave me a purpose.”

“What changed?”

Delia looked at Naia with a new curiosity.

“He met your mother.”

Naia swallowed.

“Mommy told me how she met him.”

“I remember that. I remember when he told her no at first. I was furious at him. So I not so subtly encouraged him to reconsider not protecting her and your uncle.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Your mother was a child at the time. And your uncle couldn’t protect her as he should have. Only Xander and The Pack could do that.”

“She also told me about the day he offered her The Pack’s protection.”

“I remember when Xander told me about Bobby Giles threatening her. He was furious and I was disgusted. But we both knew that he couldn't just charge into town and rid it of him. Well, he could but it wasn't in his nature at the time. So he sent a few wolves in their human forms to investigate.”

“She told me that too. And the time that Bobby pulled a gun out on Xander.”

Delia snickered.

“The fool. He believed that his gun would scare Xander. But he learned the hard way that day.”

Naia shifted in her seat.

“Mommy showed me the necklace that Xander gave her.”

“I know about that. He gave it to her on her 18th birthday.”

“She also said that she was bonded to him.”

“She's right. She was bonded to him until he died.”

“Are you angry about that?”

Delia went quiet

“To be honest, I was very angry with her. Jaded and bitter even. But I realized after she left that my anger was misplaced.”

“Misplaced how?”

“After she left I found out that Xander was telling her that she was to be his new mate. And at that time your mother was a young impressionable girl.”

“He was manipulating her?”

“Yes, he played with her heart and preyed on it.”

“My God. Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“I was bound by Pack Law to stay with my mate until his death.”

Naia shuddered.

“Will that happen to me?”

“If you choose to be Roman’s mate you are bound by Pack Law to be at his side until his death.”

“Well, that explains what my mom said about you and Xander being married on paper.”

Delia nodded.

“If I was the mate of any other Pack member I could leave. But I was Xander’s mate. As was your mother. As yet…”

“She ran away.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about Xander?”

“What would you like to know?”

“What did he look like?”

Delia waves a hand and a picture of Xander materialized in front of them.

“Whoa…”

“That is Xander in all his glory.”

“He and Roman look just alike.”

Delia smiled softly.

“Yes. He has his father's looks and stubbornness but he also has my heart.”

“Will I meet Xander?”

“No my dear. You won't.”

“Crisis averted.”

“So, will you be Roman’s mate or will you go back to your life as a human woman?”

Just as Naia was about to speak another panel appeared in front of her and Delia.

“What's this?”

“Roman. He's trying to connect to you through your bond. We are about to look at life through his eyes. These panels that appear are what life is like.”

“Why can’t he connect with me?”

Instead of responding, Delia put a finger to her lips then pointed to the panel. When Naia looked at the panel she was transported into Roman’s mind.

She and Delia were looking at a memory of them.

She had convinced Layla to let her turn Buck’s into a mini-movie theater for the pups and their parents. To give them something fun to do. When Roman heard about it he was both curious and thrilled. The girls decided on watching Lion King. With Gino and popcorn in hand, Naia snuggled next to Roman.

“So this movie is about…cats?”

“The circle of life. And lions.”

“…lions are cats are they not?”

Naia shook her head at the memory before turning to Delia.

“I remember this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. It was the day I learned that your son doesn’t like my impressions.”

Delia chuckled. They turned back to the memory and as they did, they came upon Naia’s impression of one of her favorite scenes in the movie.

“Hyenas. I hate hyenas. So what’s your plan for getting past those guys?”

“Live bait.”

“Good idea!…hey!”

“Come on Timon, you guys have to create a diversion.”

“What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the hula?”

Roman groaned.

“Are you going to be like this the rest of the movie?”

“What? Gino likes my impression. You don’t like my impression?”

“…no.”

“Everyone’s a damn critic.”

Roman rolled his eyes. But he would soon find out which scene is her favorite scene in the whole movie.

“Hey! Who’s the pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Uh oh! Did he call him a pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Shouldn’t have done that!”

“Are you talking to me?!”

“Now they’re in for it!”

“They call me: Mr. Pig!”

And just as she got Pumbaa’s yell Roman clamped a hand to her mouth.

“Beloved…how am I to enjoy this movie you’ve chosen with your incessant talking?”

Naia just giggled as the panel changed to a more recent memory. One that Naia didn’t recognize.

“My…room?”

“Yes, my dear. This was just a few days ago.”

“But I don’t remember this.”

“Because you aren’t there.”

“What?! What do you mean?”

Delia pointed to the panel as it showed Roman walking into her room. He looked distraught as he looked around. Naia could feel his anguish in her chest. When his eyes fell on Gino sitting on the bed, she felt tears on her cheek as he held Gino close to his chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“The one he considers to be his mate is missing.”

“His mate? You mean me?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“But why is he looking for me?”

“Because your bond with him is disrupted. He’s trying to reconnect with you.”

“But why?”

Delia turned back to the panel as it showed Roman in wolf form curled up on her bed with Gino under his jaw. She felt his agony and his pain as well as his longing as he whimpered. He was missing her. He was needing her. Her presence. Her smile. Her laugh. It broke her heart. She stood up shouting to the panel.

“Roman! Roman! I'm here! I'm right here!”

Delia put a hand on her shoulder.

“He can't hear you. This is only a vision of what has already been.”

Naia turned to Delia with pleading in her eyes.

“You said that he couldn’t connect to me, why can’t he connect to me?”

With a wave of a hand another panel appeared. This one showed Naia lying in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV with her mother at her side.

“I–I–I…it can’t be! You said I wasn’t dead!”

“You aren’t Naia. You’ve been injected with Wolfbane. It’s a toxin that can be deadly but thankfully you were taken to the hospital in time to save you.”

“Injected?! How?!”

“You don’t remember?”

Naia stood there confused until it hit her.

“The tranquilizer dart! The one that Trent was using! Am I right?”

Delia nodded.

“If I’m on an IV then why haven’t I woken up?”

“Because the spirits aren’t ready for you to wake up yet.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Delia looked at Naia.

“Answer this. Why do you think you’re here?”

Naia didn't know how to answer that question.

“I don't know.”

As soon as those words left her mouth another panel appeared. This one was of Trent after he left the hospital. He was in his boss’s office going off about Wolfbane.

“What is wrong with you Moses?!”

“The tranquilizer! You said it was harmless!”

“It is harmless! It effects those beasts and their ability to shift!”

“What about humans?”

“It doesn’t effect humans!”

Trent eyed him with an intense yet calm fury.

“What is Wolfbane?”

Bernard blinked in confusion.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Answer the question!”

“It’s the name of the tranquilizer. It doesn’t effect humans.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it does not!”

Trent pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Naia was hit by one of the tranquilizer darts.”

“The young woman you brought here the other day?”

“Yes. She collapsed after being hit and is now in the hospital fighting for her life. According to her mother Wolfbane is a poison that you and Xander created.”

Bernard looked at Trent genuinely confused.

“Her mother?”

“I didn't stutter.”

“What was her last name again?”

“Evans.”

“I knew someone with that last name but it was a he not a she.”

“Probably her dad. Her mother’s maiden name is Roberts.”

Bernard’s face lit up.

“Roberts? As in Laurie Roberts? Zane Roberts sister?”

“Yes.”

“I knew that girl looked familiar!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know her mother. Which means Xander was right. She did run off with Evans. I can’t believe she finally came back home.”

“Is what her mother said true? That you created this with Xander?”

“Yes it is but he took it too far. It wasn’t designed to be lethal. I tried to stop him but you can see what good it did.”

“So Xander truly was a monster?”

“Ohhh yes my boy. A monster indeed.”

As she watched with Delia, Naia wasn’t entirely convinced that Bernard was totally innocent.

“I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

“That’s Bernard Sayre for you.”

“Has he always been this way?”

“Oh yes. Even when I was amongst the living he and especially his motives were always questionable.”

“Why does the town let him do what he does?”

“Only the town can answer that.”

“I guess…”

The panel showed Trent in his cabin sitting on his couch with a bottle in his hand. Naia could feel his guilt and shame as well as his anger. His anger at his boss and anger at himself. He didn’t mean to hurt her. She just came out of nowhere. By the time he pulled the trigger it was too late. He didn't see her at first but when she dropped to the ground his heart dropped when she did. He wanted to be there at the hospital with her. To tell her how sorry he was. How much she means to him. How he wishes he could take it all back.

But at that moment he couldn't. All he could do was wallow in his festering grief and simmering anger. The same as Roman. This war had taken away a lot for both of them but this was the final straw. Trent wasn't about to lose to Roman again. And Roman had finally had enough of Trent being a thorn in his side. Both had subconsciously decided that this was an all-out war.

All of it broke Naia.

“They aren't serious are they?”

“Yes. Both are hurt and angry. Both at themselves and each other.”

“But I don't want this! I don't want them fighting!”

“Then you've found your reason for being here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me why you were brought here. My dear, you were brought here to heal what is broken.”

“You mean Roman and Trent?”

“And your family. Your mother, especially.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes. She is hurting. And angry. And confused. And you are the key to healing her wounds. And theirs.”

Naia nodded.

“How do I do that?”

“You can start by answering your mother’s prayer.”

Delia turned back to the panel that showed Laurie. When Naia looked up, her mother was holding the necklace that Xander gave her. She looking out of the window to the moon in the sky.

“Spirits of the earth,

I don't know if you can hear me or that I even have the right to ask this. But I come to you with a simple prayer. I ask you to heal my daughter. She doesn't deserve to be here. She doesn't deserve this. She's innocent. If you're angry with me for abandoning The Pack and my duties as Xander’s mate I understand. But I beg you! Don't make my daughter suffer because of me. I beg you, please bring her back to me. Let her eyes open again. Let her speak again. I just want my little girl back. I need her back. Please! Heal her.”

Delia turned to Naia with a question.

“Now that you know your purpose, are you ready my dear?”

“Yes. I am ready to heal all that is broken.”

Delia waved her hand and the panels disappeared. They were replaced by a doorway.

“Then go. Your mother is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Delia.”

Delia smiled at her.

“You're welcome, my dear. Tell my son that I miss him and that I love him and that I'm sorry.”

Naia smiled at her.

“I will.”

Naia stepped through the doorway and was transported back to her hospital room, just as her mother finished praying. She had moved her head slightly which both startled and excited Laurie.

“Naia? Naia baby are you awake?”

Naia’s eyes fluttered open and when she spoke her voice was weak.

“Mommy…”

Laurie had tears in her eyes.

“I'm here baby. I'm right here.”

Laurie was overcome with joy and relief.

“You came back to me!”

“I missed you, mommy.”

“I missed you too, baby girl.”

“We…have…much…to…talk…about.”

Laurie nodded resolutely.

“Yes, we do. It's time for you to know the true reason why I left.”

#choices #khoicesbyk #pixelberry #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #fanfic #wolf bride

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champagne-bucky · 5 years ago

Text

The Undoing: Two

Summary: The truth about a past life is unveiled.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK STORY!! dark! Steve Rogers x reader, kidnapping, non con and dub con (or at least mentions of), dark! Bucky Barnes, Stockholm syndrome, grooming, mentions of pregnancy termination and suicide mentions (for one chapter), possibly more tags to be added!

Notes: Welp, it’s here. Hope you guys enjoy chapter 2. There is one more chapter explaining the background of the story and our main character. Hope you all enjoy!! Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more! Enjoy :)

PLEASE READ WARNINGS!!

*Eight Months Later*

You were in pain. So much fucking pain that you thought you were about to combust from the inside. The contractions started early in the afternoon yesterday. Steve was being stubborn and said that it wasn’t time yet and that the baby will be born on its due date. However, the baby was having other plans.

“Steve,” you tried to scream up to the kitchen. Hopefully he wasn’t out.

“STEVEEEEEEE,” you screamed as loud as you could. You didn’t even know what time of day it was.

Following your obnoxiously loud screams, you heard a series of footsteps from upstairs coming to the basement. The bastard at least gave you a cot to sleep on since you were getting bigger.

“What do you want,” if you weren’t in so much pain you would’ve notice how he barked at you.

“So much pain. I’m in so much pain. I think the baby is coming,” tears were in your eyes as another contraction hit you.

“Sweetheart, the baby isn’t supposed to be here for another two weeks. I think it’s just something that you ate and now your stomach is upset,” he tried to be comforting but in reality he was tired and annoyed you woke him up.

Just as you were about to say something, you felt a gush of water from in between your legs. You screamed out loud and Steve looked bewildered at the sight in front of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit, fuck. It’s too early. They aren’t ready,” Steve became frantic as he found the key in his pocket to unchain you.

To get up the stairs was a major dilemma. Every step was like climbing a mountain. Eventually, Steve got tired of how slow you were taking and just ended up picking you up and taking you out to his car.

He got on the phone and dialed up Bucky to meet him at the hospital. You found out that the two were never father and son. They were just posing as ones at work events and family parties that were being thrown. It was just all a scheme to get you.

The pain was doing a number on you. At one point you were finally able to fall asleep, but not until you heard Steve make another phone call.

“Hey, it’s time. Get them ready,” was all you heard from your kidnapper before you passed out.

_________

Hospitals were always a scary place to you. Ever since you were 16, you tried to avoid them as much as possible. Well, this hell hole might just work as your saving grace.

Steve had never taken you out anywhere, not even to get the baby checked by doctors. Knowing him though, he probably did all his evil deeds when he gave you things that made you sleep easier at night.

“When we get in there you so much as utter a single word about anything and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,” Steve warned you before he ran in to get you a wheelchair. You couldn’t even register the feeling of fear for the wave of contractions hitting you.

Soon enough, you were in a hospital bed and were propped up on stirrups. The nurse had put an IV in you and Steve refused to leave your side. From what the nurses told you, you dilated really fast and baby Rogers wanted to come out now.

Never in your life had you experienced a pain worse than this one. The doctor and Steve yelled at you to keep on pushing, but you felt so numb you didn’t think you were doing anything. Steve squeezed your hand hard because he was getting impatient about meeting his baby.

Notice, his baby. He made sure that during this whole pregnancy that the baby you were carrying was his, not yours or ours. This was his way of breaking you down. Rightfully so, it was starting to work. During those months, you found yourself asking him to stay a little longer after sex. Asking him to hold you for a second longer. You didn’t think that you would succumb to the situation so easily. Well, now that the baby is almost here you need to do what’s best and protect it.

“I see a head!” The doctor yelled and she urged you to keep on pushing. “C’mon, Mama Rogers, just a few more pushes and you get to meet your baby!”

You couldn’t remember the last painful moments of childbirth until the tiny squalling newborn was being placed in your hands. The little babe was still covered in God knows what, but it didn’t matter. The little thing screaming and crying ignited a light inside of you that you thought had died a long time ago.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations mommy and daddy,” the doctor finished cleaning you up and another nurse took the baby girl to get cleaned up, your baby girl.

Steve still had a grip on your hand as he refused to leave your side. He stayed stoic when the doctor announced the sex of your baby girl. “I wanted a boy,” Steve mumbled before walking over to the nurses that asked him if he wanted to see the baby.

Internally, you smirked to yourself with the little bit of strength that you had left in you. He didn’t get what he wanted this time around. Steve Rogers would have to live with the fact that he couldn’t have the control on one thing in your life.

“Have we thought of a name yet?” A young nurse comes over to you and Steve.

“No, I’m going to need a little more time for that,” Steve answered before you got a chance to. As much as you didn’t want to raise a child, let alone Steve’s, you had thought of a perfect name for the baby.

“Well,” the nurse seemed unfazed by Steve, “we are gonna bring baby girl down to the nursery while we let momma rest. Want to bring some family over as well?” The nurse did not put her eyes on you once and only directed questions to Steve.

Steve left along with your baby girl. He gave you a “loving” kiss on the top of your head and gave you a warning glare. Once you were all alone you got straight to work, you pressed the nurse call button and hoped that the nightmare was ending tonight.

________

“There she is,” Steve tried his best to perk up while he showed Bucky the little newborn.

“She’s beautiful, Steve. Congratulations,” Bucky admired the adorable little girl squirming in her crib.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” Steve paused for a moment. That’s all he would need before he asked Bucky the worst possible question a new father could even conjure up.

“You want her,” Bucky snapped his head at Steve. He chuckled at first thinking that Steve was just nervous about fatherhood and all, but the face he made that went along with his question was completely serious.

“Steve, you can’t be serious now, what makes you wanna do that?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t feel right,” Steve simply shrugged.

“What do you mean? I’m sure Y/N isn’t ready to be a mother either, but you guys can work it out. I know you-”

“Something isn’t right...about her,” Steve looked at the baby.

Bucky was confused as he eyed up Steve and the baby that was being taken away by a nurse for feeding time with you. “Steve,” Bucky chuckled warily, “you think a half and hour old newborn baby is capable of what exactly? World domination?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve turns to Bucky with wide eyes. Bucky thought the man was having a psychotic break.

“I know what I’m talking about. There’s something about that thing,” Bucky gasped.

“Steve, don’t call her that, she’s your daughter,” Bucky spoke above a whisper.

“Then why don’t you take her then?” Steve almost growled at Bucky when a nurse hurried over and tapped Steve’s shoulder.

“What?” Steve barked at the nurse.

“Mr. Rogers, it’s your wife. She’s doing what you thought would happen,” Bucky was left in the dark at this statement.

“That fucking bitch,” Steve stormed passed the nurse leaving Bucky to look at the rest of the newborns.

___________

“Please, please, if you just listen to me,” tears were streaming down your face as the nurse kept dismissing your revelation. She kept trying to push the baby towards your breasts, but you kept pushing back trying to explain to her your situation.

“One of you go get the father,” the nurse yelled as one scurried out into the hall.

“No, no, please don’t get him. Get me out PLEASE,” you were screaming hysterics as the nurse yelled at everyone to clear the room.

“You're having crazy thoughts, my dear. We can give you something after you’ve fed the baby,”

“NO! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU CALL SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” You were full on wailing as you tried to grab the nurse.

Steve walked in. His smile was kind and patience towards the nurse. You missed it, but for a millisecond his eyes were on yours with a fear of God hidden behind them.

“I’ve got her. You take the baby, I wanna talk,” the nurse yanked herself away from you and tore the now screaming baby from your arms.

You were left alone with Steve. The room was quiet all for your whimpers. Steve stalked his way over to you with the death glare clouding his once blue eyes.

He didn’t say anything. His breathing got heavy and his fists were clenched real tight. It was a moment later, but the next sound to fill the room was the sound of the smacked flesh of your cheek. The tears flowed more and your whimpers turned into screams for help. Steve grabbed you by the hair and smacked a hand to your mouth.

“I told you. I fucking TOLD you you’d regret it if you pulled something like this. After everything I’ve done for you. After everything I gave you! You know what? Say goodbye to the baby, she’s gone!” You screamed through Steve’s palm as loud as you could, but he only slammed you into the pillow of the hospital bed. Your screams and pleas were muffled as you tried to beg Steve not to take away your baby girl.

“Shut up, SHUT UP,” Steve screamed at you and you tried your best to quiet down. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he drew away his palm.

“I’ll let you keep the baby, but you have to work for it. No slip ups, no more outbursts, no running away, no defying me. You break any of these rules Mrs. Rogers, I’ll ship this baby off to the farthest foster home in the country. That’s a fucking promise.”

That was the day the light died down in you entirely. There was no hope and you'd have to accept that. You had to keep it together. If not for you, then for the baby. All for her.

All for Sasha.

Tags to be added in comments!!

#dark avengers #dark captain america #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #dark marvel #mcudarklibrary #dark bucky barnes #dark james barnes #dark winter soldier

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iinfortunii · 4 years ago

Text

rules: code of conduct.

BEGIN.

Before we start, I would like you to have certain things in mind when approaching me ooc. I am very shy and quite awkward, which results in me not being much of a talker; however, I will always try my best to be friendly to whoever wants to approach. I dislike pet names so please do not use them with me unless we are very close. There will be times when I'm just exhausted, so my wording could sound rude/aggressive, to which I apologize in advance -I never mean to hurt people’s feelings. I also reserve the right to interact with WHOEVER I want, and pestering me about it will only get you blocked.

Updates will be made as required.

I. BASIC.

A. This blog is: Selective / Independent / Canon Divergent / NSFW / Mutuals only / Singleship / Mostly iconless / Multiverse / AU, Crossover, OC, and Multimuse friendly / Vaguely affiliated with the OP RP fandom.

B. I am a very slow rper for many reasons —school, family, my ever-fluctuating mood —and I would appreciate it if you refrained from pestering me for replies. In return I offer as much patience as necessary. Think of this blog as low activity please.

C. English is not my mother language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes made.

D. I track the tag #iinfortunii, although mentioning me works just as fine.

E. Constructive criticism is always welcome but anon hate will be immediately deleted. I have no problems if you disagree with my portrayal, but it doesn't give you the right to harass me.

F. Mun and muse are both over 18, so there are chances that heavy content will be present; however I won't be writing smut. I can roleplay anything before or after the act if requested, but the moment things get far too explicit, I'll do a fade-to-black. I ask of you to not lie about your age or else you’ll be blocked indefinitely.

G. This is a heavily headcanon-based blog, and changes are likely to be made as more information is revealed about him, though I reserve the right to adjust the new information according to my interpretation of Deuce or simply ignore it, which is why I’m canon divergent.

H. If you'd like to turn an ask into a thread, you can turn it into a new post, or reblog from me, as I won't be using the Tumblr asks anymore due to the problems that come with formatting and such.

I. Ask box is open for everyone ic or ooc, but you aren't allowed to turn it into a thread and nor I will reply to it if we’re not mutuals. Please don't push me, because I won't hesitate to block.

J. No godmoding —only a minor is allowed if it moves a thread forward —or metagaming, please. Don't kill Deuce either, unless plotted beforehand, and most importantly, don't hold your muse back.

K. Discord is available for mutuals upon request.

L. Just because I write something it does not mean I condone it. Please have this in mind and again, do not pester me about it. Any and all nsfw matters will be tagged accordingly. There will be triggering topics present, and you can know more about this on the section below.

M. DO NOT involve me in drama or call-out posts. I’m heavily against both things. On this note, you’ll never see me rebloging a call-out post. This culture is so damaging and toxic, and I firmly believe no one should play the role of the judge for the good of the community just because you had issues with someone or don’t agree with the things they roleplay. Talk things privately, be mature about it, hard-block the person and move on. I am also very aware that a lot of people have done things that can’t be excused, but I like to believe that people can change for the better. If you try to drag me into it, I'll hard block any and all people involved indefinitely.

II. TRIGGERS.

A. They will be tagged as trigger tw, trigger / and trigger cw.

B. I do my best to stay up to date with my mutuals triggers. Your comfort is way more important to me than you might think, so never be hesitant to approach me via IM, (anonymous) ask or stop following me.

C. Triggers that are likely to appear, although some more than others: violence || blood || death || drugs || abuse || knives || body image || medical equipment || suggestive content || etc

D. I have no triggers, so you are free to go wild with your content. I only ask you remember to tag your nsfw (both written and visual), please.

III. INTERACTIONS.

A. Deuce won't like everyone. He might/will make wrong assumptions about your character. He will insult and bite back. He won't always be nice to those he likes. He does many things that serve his interests. You, as the mun, have no reason to take it personal, because I'm won't follow someone I don't like; if you DO take it personal however, and decide to rouse drama, then I'll be hard-blocking you. Goes for me as well —I have no reason to get angry for any of the things noted above.

B. My bonds page displays the relationships that have been built over time, not necessarily through interaction alone but over plotting as well. Refer to it for more information.

C. Interactions with OCs related to canon characters will only take place as long as said OCs have a detailed about page. Personally, I'm not interested in the idea of an OC being blood-related to my portrayal, so I apologize in advance.

D. Formatting isn’t a big thing across my blogs, save for the small text. Please don’t mix either sup/sub with small text when writing with me, as I have eyesight problems. Don’t use colored text either.

E. Non-romantic pre-established relationships are allowed! Just make sure to talk it out with me first, yeah?

01. Spade / Whitebeard pirates (canon and original characters alike that i am MUTUALS with) will have a pre-established relationship as long as the other mun is comfortable with such idea, though that relationship will be limited to merely crewmates, unless discussed otherwise.

F. You don’t need to match my writing length as long as I’m given enough to work with. If something about my reply bothers or doesn’t work with you, let me know and I’ll re-work it.

G. I really enjoy plotting scenarios or talking out about the relationships my muse could have with other muses, so hit me up if you’ve got any ideas! I’ll try to do the same!

H. Mun does not equal muse, so don’t go assuming I’m a jerk simply because Deuce is an asshole from time to time. I’m set on the idea that I’ll give people the same treatment they give me —which is always nice and kind. Kudos to everyone for this ♡

I. I don’t use a threadtracker because I rely on my memory (terrible mistake, I know), but I try to draft people’s replies as soon as I see them. If by any reason it seems like I lost it, then please let me know / send me a link with it and I’ll be deeply grateful.

J. I don’t do nor reply to greetings starters for matters of my own comfort, so I ask of you to never expect a starter or a reply from them.

IV. SHIPPING.

A. Singleship, with the spot taken by daadzi, which means Deuce is no longer open for romantic relationships.

01. Under no circumstances, I will accept more romantic relationships once the spot is taken. That being said, I won’t discourage your muse from falling for / hitting on him, although I ask you to understand he will never respond with the same interest or will never react gently if he’s pushed too far.

02. If my shipping partner is comfortable enough, I'll interact with duplicates with the condition that the relationship is strictly platonic.

B. Constant interaction, mutual interest, and chemistry are a must for the sake of better communication (both ic and ooc, preferably).

C. Please do not approach me if you wish our characters to have either a: one night stand or friends with benefits type of relationships. It won’t work out due to the nature of Deuce’s personality, and for that I apologize.

E. My ship has its own tag so you're free to block it if you don't want to see it on your dashboard. In addition, I'll also tag those posts with only the ship name for this very purpose.

F. Please do not force ships on me.

V. CELEBRATIONS.

A. First off, I am absolutely terrible at keeping up with dates, and to be frank, I am not the biggest fan of celebrating, which is why I think it’s necessary to say I won’t be partaking in any holidays, not even Deuce’s birthday (not that he has one, to begin with). Obviously I will still reply to any gifts received, and will send out things in return —you know, common courtesy.

B. I won't be sending out birthday gifts every year, and I might write drabbles for people once in a blue moon; it doesn’t mean they will be done for the specific date though, so please be patient.

VI. REASONS TO NOT FOLLOW BACK / UNFOLLOW.

A. Too much drama / call-outs / vague posts / sexual content.

B. Content makes me uncomfortable.

C. You are a personal blog without a visible rp sideblog. Please make sure it's easy to find.

D. You do not have a proper tag system.

E. Your blog doesn’t have a rules and about pages.

F. You lack the manners to deal with people respectfully.

G. I have no interest / lost interest.

H. I'm constantly / only used as a meme archive.

I. Other reasons may apply. I will soft block so we can both cease following each other and avoid any potential awkward situations. I won’t make a fuss if you decide to unfollow so I expect the same courtesy.

VII. ABOUT BEATRICE.

She is not a real person. Her concept as Deuce’s (toxic) pseudolover is my creation and was somewhat inspired from the real life Beatrice Portinari. Do have in mind that Deuce doesn’t talk about her so your muse can’t simply approach him and ask about her unless they can go through his memories / read his mind / any capability alike or he speaks about her, though it won't take a genius to figure out that she's a product of his imagination.

You can read about her by clicking here -link to be added.

She serves as a lie to shield himself from the internalized homophobia he deals with up until meeting Ace.

NOTE: As stated previously, Mun =/= muse, but I too have been dealing with compulsory heterosexuality for far too long, so I'd like to apologize in advance for projecting a bit of that into my portrayal. I'll work so that this part makes sense with what we've been given from Ace's novel.

VIII. MISCELLANEOUS.

A. I will never force people to follow me, so if by any reason you have to unfollow/block me, please go ahead. Your comfort matters and have every right to do what you must to ensure your wellbeing. With that said, I will not tolerate and will immediately hard block if you try to police my content.

B. I do not follow back immediately, and it can take me from a few hours to several days to follow back. Do not take it personally if I choose not to.

C. If I follow it’s because I am interested in interacting. I only ask you to be patient because it might take me a while to gather the courage to send something to your inbox or talk to you.

D. I have. ZERO knowledge about medicine. Don’t expect me to go full force and try to be 100% accurate, because I won’t.

E. I practice reblog karma (send a meme to someone if I’m rebloging it from them). If you see something you’d like to reblog but have no intention in sending something yourself, then please reblog from the source.

IX. FINISH.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! As you might have noticed, there’s no password to send. Make sure to check the psa tag for any updates, or don’t hesitate to send an ask if there’s anything unclear! I do my best so as not to post too much OOC posts, but sometimes it just happens. If it's nothing important, then I'll erase it whenever I have the chance/remember.

Keanu Reeves vc: You’re all breathtaking!

#pinned post.#long post #❝ —talking nonsense ; ooc #❝ —off to new adventures ; queue #ooc.#queue.#[ this is a very long post btw ]

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alleiradayne · 6 years ago

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THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE A READER/SAM WINCHESTER SERIES

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part IV - The Betrayal

Summary: The hunt begins! Warnings/Tags: Hunting, fluff, angst, near death experience, a poltergeist, I think it’s scary... Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 4,895 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me. I also had to delete and reblog this post because I made some changes that were posted to AO3 and not here.

The door creaked on its worn hinges as Dean crossed the threshold into her room. Over his shoulder he brandished an iron fireplace poker like a baseball bat. “Alright, what have you touched in here so far?”

From behind Sam, Y/N shoved her way into her room and strode past Dean. His feeble protest sounded more like a bruised ego than an actual complaint, and so she ignored it. “Everything,” she declared as she gestured to encompass her room. “I've touched everything in this room. If you can see it, I've touched it. It's kind of hard not to.”

Sam swallowed hard as he prepared to speak. “I warned you. Last night. Why didn't you listen?”

“Yeah, like that basketball player and her reporter friend,” Dean said. “They were smart and got the hell out when I told them to.”

Wait. Sam had been right? “You… weren't trying to fold the basketball player?”

Dean turned to Sam with a flat look. “Fold? Did you tell her to say that?”

“Would you have preferred I use ‘fuck’ instead? Bang? Nail? Drill? Take your pick,” Y/N snipped. “I've got more.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before turning back to Sam. “I hate you and I'm jealous of you, but I'm damn proud of you, Sammy. That's the kinda girl you should marry.”

“Shut up,” Sam hissed. “We need to find this… thing immediately. It might not even be here. Whatever it is,” he added as he looked the room once over.

Y/N looked as well but didn't have a single clue for what it was for which she searched. “Sam, who was that woman in that book? And why do you think her spirit is still attached to this place?”

Sam withdrew the book from under his arm and opened the it to read aloud. “Y/N Hillstead…” he paused as he looked at Dean who in turn looked at her, “of Hill Manor, writing her twentieth novel at her scrivener’s desk in her room.”

Y/N nodded as she frowned. “Okay, I'm just gonna ignore the fact that we have the same first name and we're both authors. Why do you think her spirit is here?”

Sam flipped a few pages ahead as Dean prodded at various pieces of furniture with the iron poker. “Y/N died within days of publishing the novel she was writing in her portrait. Her cause of death was unknown, her body unmarred and in top physical health for the time.”

“So, she had an aneurysm and a 19th century doctor couldn’t figure that out,” Y/N said as she picked at the enameled corner the writing desk. At the edge of her vision she saw Dean squint as his hackles bared his teeth. “There has to be more to this story if you’re both convinced her spirit is here.”

Sam snapped the book shut and his flat stare bore into hers. “What this book omits, either intentionally or otherwise, is the fact that Ms. Hillstead's body was found in the mansion's cemetery lying on her back right where her future grave would be.”

Okay. That was definitely suspicious. “I still feel like there's more missing,” she stated.

“Would you just tell her the whole story?” Dean growled as he slumped into a chair, only to leap out of it after a beat.

Sam rolled his eyes as he scoffed and shook his head at Dean. When Sam turned back to her, he explained. “Ms. Hillstead's body had been found posed. At least that's what other sources say. Given the items found on her person, we suspect she had lain that way on her own.”

He neared the writing desk as his words slowed. A glance between the book and the desk served him one final check before he said, “she had all the ritual components for creating a phylactery.”

Y/N slumped onto her bed. Christ. Real magic. Subconsciously, her fingers tapped her chin as she spoke. “You’re trying to find the phylactery. Before anyone else does.”

Dean grunted his agreement. “Ms. Hillstead was a witch in every sense of the word. A powerful one, too.”

A witch? A real, honest-to-God witch? Y/N wondered what other fairytales might be true. A shake of her head cleared her thoughts, and instead she asked, “How do you know she was a witch?”

“We uh… have contacts,” Sam stuttered.

“You know a witch?!”

Dean waved her off. “She’s been a pain in our ass for the better part of a decade now. Don’t make it sound cool.”

“I would love to meet her,” Y/N started, “I bet she has amazing stories.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked as he continued to stare at the writing table. “Whatever this phylactery is, we need to find it immediately.”

Y/N stood as Dean inched his way to the door. “Wait a minute,” she demanded. Dean froze at the door, his hand an inch shy of the handle. “Is Y/N Hillstead actually dead?”

Sam and Dean traded a look. “We’re not sure,” Sam started. “Either way, we find her phylactery and get it to the right people, they can handle it. Ideally, they could eliminate that part of her soul and find out where the rest of her is.”

“Rest… of her?” Y/N asked.

Dean bristled at that. “We dug up her grave last night hoping to burn her corpse,” he said.

“With salt, right? To force her spirit to move on.” Y/N added.

He visibility relaxed at that, a small smile quirking his lips. He regarded Sam as he agreed. “Yeah. But her coffin was empty. So, she either isn’t dead, or, if she is, something else was done with her body. We think she’s not dead. She’s a lich and split her soul in two, and put one half in a phylactery. She could be a baelnorn, but that’s highly un—”

Sam backhanded his shoulder and Dean stopped short with a clipped tongue as Y/N paced the width of her room, deep in thought. A thousand questions running through her mind, rabbit hole after rabbit hole spawning more and more questions. But given their convictions, it all boiled down to one issue. “How do you destroy a phylactery?”

Dean rolled his eyes as his chin dropped to his chest. Sam, all too proud, withdrew a decorative vial from his jean pocket. Golden amber liquid glimmered in the yellow lamplight as he spun it between his fingers. She neared him as her eyes narrowed to examine the tiny bottle of crystal-clear glass. Stoppered by a cork in golden metal neck, the liquid swirled in undulating circles far too much for Sam’s steady hand. Inches away, a sudden flash of a violent shade of green startled Y/N so, she jumped back a step. “What the fuck is that?”

“Venom,” Sam said as he returned it to his pocket. “From a basilisk.”

Basilisks, too? As Y/N’s mind raced, it dawned on her. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she scoffed.

“We’re not,” Dean groaned. “It’s so damn ridiculous. But it works.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, fine. But we still have no clue where this phylactery is, or what it is. It might not even be in this house.”

Sam glanced at her writing desk once more. “We have reason to believe it is.”

“Sam and I were up most of the night doing research after we found her coffin empty,” Dean started as he caught Sam’s look. He hefted the iron poker in his fist as he neared the desk. “The things on Y/N Hillstead’s body included several possible phylacteries. At least, there was a list of items found on her body not necessary for the ritual. We’re assuming she planned to use one of them.”

A slow step in complete synchronization neared the brothers to the desk. “One of those items was a small journal,” Sam started.

“A diamond bracelet her husband had given her,” Dean added as they continued to close in on the writing desk.

“A scroll of parchment with the end of her last novel written on it,” Sam added, eyes still glued to the writing desk.

With each of their steps, Y/N backed further into her room until the dresser met the small of her back. Dean reached the desk first and hooked into the drawer with the poker. Its contents revealed, Dean regarded Sam out of the corner of his eye, then reached in with his bare hands.

“Wait!”

Too late, Y/N's exclamation echoed through her room unheard. Dean withdrew her leather notebook, its modern binding far too obvious among the other items in the drawn.

He discarded it on the bed before returning to the drawer. “The last item was a pen.”

“Like the one in her portrait?”

Sam withdrew a thin purple cloth from his back pocket and unfurled it with a snap of his wrist. A thick swallow stuck in her throat, and the room spun as adrenaline coursed through her veins. With rapt attention, Y/N stared as he reached into the desk, shuffled old paper aside, then froze.

Dean backed away a startled step before recovering with the iron poker bared. “Be careful.”

Y/N resisted the urge to laugh, Sam's flat glare and Dean's healthy fear of the unknown humorous in their own ways. “It's just a pen.”

“We don't know that yet,” Dean argued.

“He has a point,” Sam agreed as he searched the room, then found her empty notebook on her bed. “May I?” When Y/N nodded, he snatched it up and flipped it open to the first page and his brow furrowed. “I thought you said you started writing last night?”

“I… didn’t,” she stuttered. “There was just… too much going on. The mansion, the people. They were all…”

“Distracting?”

Sam’s bright stare locked with hers, and for a moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Dean faded to the blurry edges of her subconscious, as did the pen that Sam held. Empathy poured from him in waves, crashing over her and pulling her under. Damn his perception. Damn his emotional intelligence, too. And damn his enthralling gaze.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, will you two get a room?”

Reality returned in a rush when Dean ripped the pen and cloth from Sam’s hand and scribbled on the page of her open notebook. Y/N gasped despite not knowing what should or even could happen. And Sam nearly screamed as he bobbled the notebook into Dean's arms, where he fumbled it to the floor.

Still as stone, they froze as though that might protect them. Several seconds ticked by on the large mantle clock before Y/N opened her eyes that she had shut in a fit of terror only to find the notebook laying on the floor, unmarked by the pen.

“Piece of junk,” Dean spat as he shoved the cap on it. He tossed it back into the drawer as he handed Sam his cloth, then leaned down for the notebook and handed it back to Y/N. “Thanks. We’ll keep looking.”

“I could help,” she offered as she set her notebook on the desk.

Sam handed her the thin square of purple fabric as he said, “Use that. It’s… it has a Hoodoo barrier on it. Kinda like a… “

Dean flourished his from his pocket and grinned. “A magic condom.”

She almost felt bad for Sam. Almost. As she took the fabric from him, she looked to Dean and said, “Magic condom, hm? Does it make you look bigger when you wear it, Dean?”

The ridiculous grin on Dean's face disappeared without a trace. He looked to the door, then turned and strode out to the hallway, Sam’s cackling laughter following him as he, too, turned for the door.

“Sam.”

He stopped in the doorway, a smile so bright on his face despite the looming danger. “Y/N?”

“What should I do?”

Damn the quake in her voice. She only needed a straight answer from Sam. Not consoling or, worse, pity.

“I'll catch up to you,” he said into the hallway.

“Sure,” she heard Dean say. His heavy boots thumped down the hallway as he said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Y/N!”

She laughed despite Sam’s embarrassed blush. When Sam closed her door and turned back to her, she said, “He means well.”

“Yeah, he’s meant well for the better part of twenty-five years,” he said.

She sat on her bed and Sam followed, sitting so close the heat of his presence consumed her in every way possible. “Is that how long you two have been at… whatever this is?” she asked as she gestured to her room.

“Hunting.”

Of course. “Hunting,” she repeated.

“And yes. Dean's been hunting longer. My dad taught us,” he paused as his eyes glazed over, staring off into the middle distance as though reliving too many memories at once.

“Sam?” Her hand found his without thought. “Earth to Sam?”

He blinked at last, and his fingers tightened around hers when he looked to her. “Sorry. It's… a long story. One I don't think I have time to tell. Maybe I could write a book about it all someday. Although, I don't think there's enough ink in the entire world to print that monstrosity.”

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as gooseflesh broke out along her arms. “What did you just say?”

Sam regarded his feet a moment before responding. “I should write a book about hunting. For hunters. You know, nothing I could really publish given that—”

“No, after that,” she urged as she stood.

Sam followed, his hand still held in hers. “That there isn't enough ink in the whole world to print that book.”

“Ink,” she muttered as she turned back to the writing desk. The drawer sat open a half inch and bright moonlight from the window glinted off something inside it.

“Yeah, ink,” Sam repeated. “What about it?”

“I… I'm not sure,” she sighed. Something about the pen and the mention of ink had snagged a recent memory. But far too often the last several weeks, her more intriguing thoughts fled at the first sign of scrutiny. “I thought I had an idea but, it's gone. Feels a lot like my writing these days.”

The warmth of his hands enveloped her shoulders as Sam squared her to face him. “You'll get out of this funk,” he said, “you've got a lot going on right now, especially with this bombshell of a truth dropping into your lap.”

“I know,” she groaned, “I'm just… impatient. And still so distracted.”

The second those words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. Sam parted from her with a sudden nervous shake as he said, “I'm sorry, I should go. Let you get back to work.”

Had dinner never happened? What of their walk? And the library earlier that afternoon? “I still want to help. Do you have to go?”

He checked the door over his shoulder. “I should. We really need to find this phylactery.”

The sinking sensation in her chest chilled her to her toes. “I… I understand. I'll keep looking here,” she said.

At the door, Sam paused and held up another purple cloth. “Don’t forget to use the one I gave you. And Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“After we finish this, we’ll talk, okay?” he said with a small smile. “I promise. You deserve my complete attention and I want to give that to you when people's lives aren't at stake.”

A promise. Better than nothing. “Thanks, Sam.”

He disappeared through the door, its sharp clasp clicking against the wood as it shut behind him. For a long moment, Y/N stood in the center of her room, unsure of what to do for the first time in so many years. Though shocked, she found a sense of comfort in learning the truth, that her novels were not far from fact. Not in the least. If anything, her work demanded a review by the Winchesters. She wondered what her editor would think if she republished any of her books with corrections based on Sam and Dean’s feedback.

Shit. Too many distractions. She had intended to give Sam her phone number in case she found anything. If she moved fast enough, she might yet catch him in the hallway. From the writing desk, she retrieved her notebook. The cover flipped aside with a flick of her wrist, but when she went for her pen in the binding, it wasn’t there. The drawer of the desk came up empty but for the old fountain pen Dean and Sam had found and discarded.

The black glazed finish—wood or stone, she was unsure—glimmered in the lamplight. Thin, faint veins of gold and green shined as she twirled it between her fingers.

“Ink.”

If Y/N Hillstead had written twenty novels with that pen, maybe Y/N could tap into that well of inspiration.

All she needed was some ink.

Her room proved fruitless as she turned it over, using the Hoodoo cloth in most cases to touch anything remotely suspicious. Not a single inkwell surfaced in any of the drawers, dressers, or cabinets that lined her over-furnished quarters. The distinct lack of an inkwell in that room, the room in which Y/N Hillstead had supposedly written her novels, struck her odd. But that faint memory, newly formed earlier that afternoon, bubbled to the surface once more and she surrendered to it completely.

Corded muscle pressed against her entire body, enveloped in his suffocating embrace. How soft his lips on hers, softer than sin as they so gently teased them apart with his tongue and the faint taste of icy spearmint gum filled her mouth again. Gun oil and leather overwhelmed her nose as she breathed in to ease the relentless onslaught of arousal pooling between her thighs. Her bedroom spun as the memory unfolded and she relived it, his hands slipping to the small of her back, smoothing over the curve of her ass, and grasping, nearly lifting her from her feet.

Had Dean not interrupted them, she knew without a doubt Sam would have taken her on that very table in the library. And she would have so willingly wrapped her legs around his hips and let him fuck her cross-eyed.

But in that last moment before the memory faded at Dean’s barking interjection, an image flashed in her mind’s eye and Y/N saw it.

Behind Sam, an inkwell sat on a shelf all by itself. And beside it on the same base stood an identical pen to the one she held, standing tall in its holder.

Her eyes snapped open as she slapped her hand on the writing desk to catch her listing body. When the room stopped spinning and her breathing steadied, Y/N set her notebook and the pen on her bed as her plans took shape. She needed a change of clothes. As Sam had mentioned earlier that afternoon, running in heels begged for a broken ankle.

While she knew Sam would be well on his way by the time she changed into her jeans, t-shirt, jacket, and Chucks, she still wanted to give the pen a shot. Her superstitions about inspiration, muses, and motivation demanded she at least try it. So, she gathered up her things, stuffed them into her messenger bag, and headed for the library.

On her way, she expected to run into other guests, if only one. But no one interrupted her quick stride, not a single soul in sight from the hallway, down the stairs, and into the halls of study in the North wing of the house. Given the hour, she expected to see folks returning from dinner but when she had passed the dining room at the bottom of the stairs, darkness oozed from the doorway.

She darted in and headed for the kitchen door on a whim. If she had learned anything from all her years of research, she needed some sort of defense. In the kitchen, the overhead lights flickered to life when she flipped the switch. Y/N scanned the countertops, then, finding them bare, started in on the cupboards. The pantry proved fruitful; a large canister of salt sat on a bottom shelf and she tossed it into her bag.

On her way out, her eye caught a gleaming object hanging on the wall near the door. A small chef’s hand-torch sat in a mount and she snatched it up to toss it into her bag as she strode from the kitchen. Through the dining room, she returned to the dark hallway and headed for the library.

Around a nearby corner, she happened upon the library entrance quicker than she had expected. Yellow lamplight flooded the room and spilled into the hallway where Y/N had skidded to a stop. Empty but for the myriad rows of shelves, the library beckoned to her, inviting her to curl up in a secluded corner with a good book and a hot cup of tea on that chilly fall night.

One foot crossed the threshold, then the other as a creeping sense of dread crawled up her spine. She paused six feet inside the library doors for a breath and scanned the room as best she could. Too many obstacles obscured the furthest corners of the room, including the table at which she had found Sam earlier that afternoon. And yet, she hesitated. What might be around those dimly lit corners, the edges of shadows through which she could hardly see?

“Oh, get it together, Y/N,” she chastised as she pressed on, willing herself to traverse the bookcases once more.

Around the last row of shelves, she found the table and approached it only to stall in the last foot. She had stood there mere hours ago, lips locked with Sam’s as he all but overpowered her with his hulking frame and palpable desire. She wanted nothing more than to relive that moment again and again until her imagination finished the job and she would, at the very least, have the perfect inspiration for a scene in her novel.

But before she moved any further, her curiosity about the pen burned a hole in thoughts. She inspected the shelving surrounding her spot until at last she found the entire case of writing supplies. Near the top the inkwell sat on its base, the twin pen beside it and surrounded by copious amounts of old parchment and quills.

“Perfect.”

As she approached the shelf, Y/N noted the base upon which the inkwell sat had a second, empty holder beside the twin pen. Made of the same material—she still couldn’t tell if it was wood or stone—she determined the set must belong together.

Eager to reunite them, Y/N grabbed the base at both ends and slid it towards her. A sharp shift jolted the base as it popped free of its decades long resting place surrounded by a thick layer of dust.

Delicate hands carried the inkwell and base to the table where she set them down near a chair and sat. The moment of truth loomed, settled in her stomach like a lead weight as she dragged her notebook from her bag. On its heels, she withdrew the pen and removed the cap, its sharp clip loud as a crack of thunder in the silent library.

Her nerves had gotten the best of her, shaking hands struggling to fill the pen. Damn fragile piece of junk. The sad part, she knew, was that it probably wasn't worth it. The pen had most likely ceased to function properly decades ago.

The nib hovered over her notebook as she imagined how to begin her novel. As a solid drop of thick black ink gathered, Y/N had a second thought to take out her Hoodoo cloth and wrap it around the pen.

Just in case.

Metal met paper and dragged a thick, broad stroke as Y/N wrote in her neatest script.

The Betrayal at The House on The Hill

The last thing Natalie wanted, let alone needed, after the untimely death of her parents was to inherit a piece of property. Least of all the cursed house on the top of the hill at the edge of town. But there she stood in the massive ballroom, surrounded by too many faces with too few names.

Each sentence flowed from Y/N without thought, without any effort at all. She continued, each idea forming and solidifying in a matter of seconds. The words found their way to the page with such perfection, Y/N tore the pen away intentionally to allow herself a moment to breathe.

As she inhaled, the chill she had felt upon entering the library returned. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and gooseflesh pebbled the skin of her arms as a numbing sense of dread chilled her toes and fingers. Her heart thumped faster and faster, hammering against her chest, until the rush of blood past her ears drowned out all her thoughts.

Lamps in the hallways flickered once, twice, then snuffed out. Darkness threatened the library as lamps along the walls followed, their brief flickers inevitably stilled. Y/N rose to her feet and reached into her bag, her fingers wrapping around a large container of salt as the last lights sputtered and died.

An unearthly cold gripped her like a vice and threatened to squeeze the life from her lungs. Ephemeral swirls of dust and dirt churned in a gathering mass not a foot before her, taking shape in the form of a hand around her throat. Y/N dropped the pen with a gasp, her scream silent as the grave, and though she clawed at the hands on her neck, she could not grasp them.

The dim light of the moon faded beneath heavy lids, her consciousness fleeing under the unholy strength of the malevolence rapidly forming before her. Before she succumbed to that darkness, the ghastly visage of a young woman—unmistakably Y/N Hillstead—stared back at her, sunken eyes wide and boring holes into her very soul.

Y/N gasped one last breath in desperation as she flung the can of salt at the spirit. Just like in her books, it scattered in a spray of dirt and dust, and Y/N collapsed to her knees as she gasped, choking for breath.

Her reprieve lasted a second before the spirit returned, but Y/N leaped faster and grabbed the pen as she rolled for the canister of salt. A handful flung in its face bought her the one second she needed to lunge for her bag and make the last move she had.

The chef’s torch ignited in one hand and she held the pen a scant inch shy of the flame. The spirit froze, expressionless but for her wide eyes glued to the pen.

“If you move one more inch, so help me God, I'll burn it,” Y/N growled. “You need leave. This is not the place for you.”

The spirit of Y/N Hillstead opened her mouth to speak but only a thin rasp emanated from her. Rage filled her eyes as her lips thinned to nothing, pressed closed as her jaw clenched.

And then everything happened all at once. A banshee wail of a scream rent the air as the spirit threw her head back and her jaw unhinged. Y/N clamped her hands over her ears as she collapsed to her knees and the pen fell to the floor, the most excruciating pain wracking her entire body. Regret plagued her final thoughts as consciousness faded once more, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

But out of that deep, dark nothing, a familiar face brightened, illuminated by a flare of eerie green light. She searched the room for the source of the light and found it on the floor, shining blindingly bright out of the body of the pen. The impulse to grasp it, to encapsulate that power, assaulted Y/N with such relentless force, no amount of her willpower could have resisted. She lunged and clamped a hand over the pen, trapping it on the floor. As though she had covered its mouth, the spirit silenced in a wisp of dust, disappearing into thin air.

Warm, golden lamplight flickered to life and flooded the library in the absence of the spirit. That familiar face returned as Sam Winchester rushed to her side. His massive arms enveloped her with such ease, Y/N blushed despite the pain. She slumped into his embrace and allowed him to scoop her up into his arms, her hands shaking as they gripped at his coat.

He carried her from the library as she finally succumbed to the darkness, heavy lids drifting closed. But before she slipped into that unconsciousness, that infinitesimal space between asleep and awake, Y/N heard a gruff voice ask, “What the fuck just happened in there?”

Sam shifted her in his arms as he strode on, Dean catching up behind him. “I don’t know, man.”

“That wasn’t a lich, Sam! Or a spirit!” Dean hissed. “That was a full-on fucking poltergeist! Why is Y/N Hillstead a poltergeist?!”

A real, honest-to-god poltergeist. That final thought followed her down into the deep, dark nothing as she succumbed to unconsciousness at last.

Son of a bitch.

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

#spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #reader/sam winchester

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choices-betch · 6 years ago

Text

Lost on You (Mona x MC): Chapter IV

Book: Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance Pairing: Mona x MC Warnings: None. Just some cursing. Chapter Quote: “I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road Notes: So I surprised myself and actually finished this in four parts! I almost wrote two different endings, and it took me a while to finish this one because I was really sold on the other one...but ultimately, this felt better. Thank you again to everyone who read, reblogged/liked, and commented on this series! Hope it wasn’t a total waste of your time, haha. Tags: @maxwellsquidsuit @scarlet-letter-a0114 @whoinvitedalx @zoe6111 @pauclaws @desiree-0816

Song: easily - bruno major

Chapter IV: Lovefool

Mona stood outside the Philadelphia District Attorney's Office, shuffling the gift box between her hands as she took in the full height of the building. She couldn’t believe she was about to voluntarily enter a criminal justice building; it gave her the shivers.

Mona walked in, requesting directions and taking the elevator to the fifth floor in search of her destination. She peered around the corner of the office door, relaxing as she saw it was empty, sans a few boxes left to unpack.

Mona set the gift on the desk, running her fingers across the top before leaning against it, her arms folded across her chest as she glanced around the room. Movement in the windows caught Mona’s attention and she watched her walk toward the door, eyes glued to a file. Mona rolled her eyes. Still oblivious as ever. Mona took in her appearance as she rounded the corner into her office: black pencil skirt, deep green blouse and black stilettos, her hair pulled back in a bun but bits of hair had fallen…Mona bit her lip as her attraction grew, her mind wandering to the moments she had grasped handfuls of that same head of hair...

Lexi looked up as she saw another pair of feet and gasped at Mona’s presence, dropping her file as her hand went to her heart in shock. Mona snickered, earning a glare as Lexi bent down to pick up the file and assorted papers that had fallen out.

“Why can’t you ever make an entrance like a normal human being?” Lexi huffed, closing her door and moving to pull the blinds down over the windows for some privacy.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Lexi gave her a pointed look and walked behind her desk, sitting down and leaning back in her chair with crossed legs. She stared at Mona in silence, a pensive look on her face.

“What are you doing here?”

“What a greeting,” Mona scoffed. Lexi cocked her head to the side, continuing to look at Mona expectantly. “I came to congratulate you, what with getting promoted to assistant DA and all. Obviously,” Mona added, nodding toward the gift box. Lexi shifted her gaze to the box, her eyes widening slightly in surprise as she became aware of the gift.

“Thank you,” Lexi started slowly, her eyes back on Mona. “While I appreciate that...why now?”

Mona ran her tongue across the back of her teeth; a soothing method of sorts. She scratched her neck, squinting a bit as she looked away. There wasn’t much of an easy explanation she could give. She sighed and rolled her eyes, mostly at herself, shifting her weight awkwardly.

“It was time.”

—-

3 years ago...

Lexi woke up on the bathroom floor, slightly disoriented as she took in her surroundings. Memories from the night before flooded her mind, making her already swollen eyes burn again. She turned to lay on her back, her palms pressing into her eyes to stop them from welling over. With a sigh she hoisted herself upright, went pee, and looked at herself in the mirror. She cringed; her face was red and puffy, she had crusted drool on her cheek, and her hair was going every which direction. A real looker.

After washing her face and taking some time to make herself look alive, Lexi sat cross-legged on her bed, lost in thought. As much as she would have liked to say she wished she’d never taken Mona up on her invite, she knew she’d do it all over again if given the opportunity.

Probably why she doesn’t want you. Desperate ass.

Lexi grunted in frustration, pounding her fists on her mattress as she questioned when she’d stop making the same decisions repeatedly, before getting up and heading to her closet. She was not going to do this again. She had to be a fucking adult about this and move on. As she rifled through her clothes she came across the black dress she wore to the club, and her mind wandered to Jordan. Her stomach dropped; she’d been a real jackass toward a completely innocent person, as unintentional as it had been. She knew she owed Jordan an explanation, and she had definitely promised her one. Lexi got dressed and shot a text to her classmate Joel after realizing she had absolutely no contact information for Jordan. After getting a response, she grabbed her belongings and headed out the door.

She was going to make this right.

—-

Lexi sat at an umbrella table, two coffees resting on the table top as she glanced at the people milling around, waiting for one particular familiar face. Within a few minutes Jordan walked out, laughing with a few other people. She saw Lexi quickly, saying goodbye to her friends before heading over to the table.

“I asked Joel where you worked. And what your favorite coffee was. Hopefully they got it right, I didn’t know if you wanted—“

“What are you doing here?” Jordan asked, seeming genuinely confused with a hint of amusement. Lexi sighed, visibly deflating. She wasn’t good at these kinds of conversations and she didn’t know where to start.

“I wanted to apologize,” Lexi started, picking at her pants. “I was shitty. A few times. I'm not normally like that, I swear. I’m really, really sorry. I just...wanted to explain, if you’ll let me?” Lexi motioned to the empty chair and coffee, a pleading expression on her face. Jordan stared at her for a moment before taking a seat, helping herself to the drink and humming in approval.

“So,” Jordan started after a moment of silence, her eyebrows raised to urge Lexi on.

“So,” Lexi responded, sighing heavily. “I...I have a...weird history, for lack of better words. I got involved in some stuff when I turned eighteen and...I met someone. My first love, first...everything, really. It didn’t last long, mostly because we got caught. She got hurt and needed a hospital, so it was either bleed out or turn herself in.”

Jordans eyes were wide in shock, clearly not expecting to hear what she’d just been told, but she stayed silent as Lexi continued.

“She...saved me. She got shot prying the gun away that was meant to shoot me. And then she went to prison, still protecting me so I could go to school, have a life. I didn’t deserve....” Lexi swallowed hard, getting emotional as she continued, but shook her head and cleared her throat to snap out of it. “Anyway, I...had a hard time letting go. I wrote to her the whole time she was in prison, she never responded except on my birthday. But she got out recently, and…”

“And...she’s back?”

Lexi nodded slowly, biting the inside of her cheek as she picked at the table top.

“Is that why you took off that day?”

Lexi nodded again with a sigh, then met Jordan’s gaze. “I didn’t know she was out. I thought I was losing it. I had thought I’d seen glimpses of her a few times before that.”

“I see.”

They sat in awkward silence, unsure what to say or do next. After a moment, Lexi cleared her throat and broke thetension.

“So…yeah. I promised you an explanation, and you deserved one. I’m really sorry for how I’ve treated you. I did the same thing to you that was done to me, and you don’t deserve that.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Jordan responded genuinely, “but what’s going on with the girl?”

“Nothing. She made that very clear.” Lexi raised her eyebrows and laughed bitterly, folding her arms over her chest unconsciously. “Just gotta move on. Again.”

Jordan shook her head, her brows furrowed as she took a sip of her coffee. Lexi’s eyebrows mimicked Jordan’s, sitting a little more upright.

“What?” Lexi asked indignantly.

“I just don’t get you.”

Me?! What the...great, I get rejected and somehow it’s my fault.

“If this is still something that affects you so deeply - and clearly it does - why would you let that go?”

“She doesn’t want—”

“Bullshiiiit,” Jordan interrupted, leaving Lexi with her mouth agape. “You and I both know if that were true she wouldn’t keep being all stealth master about it.”

She was right. And that’s what kept Lexi hanging on. Maybe she was too scared of pushing, too fearful of putting herself at risk of continued rejection. But what else did she have to lose? Her life had felt like it had been on pause all these years, always questioning what could have been if only…

At least if Mona really meant what she said, Lexi would never regret trying one last time; if there was the slightest chance for his to turn out well, she had to take it. What was stopping her besides herself? And not knowing where the hell Mona was, of course. But Lexi knew where to start.

Lexi’s gaze fell on her immediately; not many people were at the bar in the middle of the afternoon. She second guessed her choice the moment they made eye contact, terrified of rejection yet again, but she knew she had to give this a fighting chance to finally let it go. She exhaled heavily then marched confidently to the bar, slamming her things down on the table top and plopping down on a chair.

“I have some things to say, and you’re going to listen. And if you try and leave, I will tie your ass to the chair.” Mona raised an eyebrow as Lexi reached in her bag and pulled out a long silk tie, her eyes going between the tie and Lexi’s face repeatedly before smirking. Lexi rolled her eyes. “Evidence from a mock trial, calm down.”

“Hey, you’re the one barging in, threatening to tie me up and have your way with me. I’m just drinking a beer.”

“Can you please be serious?” Lexi was already irritated. Why did she want to do this, again?

Mona sighed, setting her beer bottle on the table with a soft thud. “I don't see what’s left to say.”

“You’re full of shit. We could start with present time or go back a few years, either way there’s a lot to figure out. But that doesn’t even matter right now, I just..”

Lexi stumbled over her words, frustrated at how she couldn’t ever form coherent thoughts or sentences around this woman. Mona always had known when she needed to shut up, though, so she stayed quiet, allowing Lexi to figure out exactly what she wanted to say.

“You’ve chosen for me every time. But this time I’m not letting you. I’m choosing to fight for this, Mona. For you. I’ve let you run every time, but I can’t again. Not without giving it a final shot. This is stupid! We’ve been playing this song and dance for six years. Aren’t you tired?”

Mona’s face betrayed nothing. She sat, watching Lexi with a careful expression. Lexi took that as a signal to continue.

“There’s a reason after all this time I can’t let you go. There has to be a reason I’m still in l—“ Lexi caught herself, her cheeks reddening at her flub. “That I still want you,” she corrected, her sense of desperation back. “We’re connected, and whether or not you want to admit it, you feel it too, otherwise you never would have come.”

Mona stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. It felt too dangerous to open up, to really allow herself to delve this deep into her feelings. She didn’t like doing that nor did she have any desire to in the middle of a bar. But she knew deep down, Lexi was right. She felt the same, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t know how it could possibly do either of them any good.

“What are you so afraid of?” Lexi demanded, exasperation evident in her voice.

“I’m not afraid,” Mona snapped, her eyebrows furrowing as she took an aggressive gulp of her drink. She wasn’t fucking afraid. She wasn’t… “I just...I don’t know how to settle down, okay? It’s never really been my thing. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think anybody really knows what they’re doing,” Lexi argued. “That’s not a good enough reason not to try.”

“I can’t be everything you need me to be, Lexi,” Mona said harshly, her eyes flashing with such intensity it made Lexi uncomfortable for a moment. “I don’t understand what you aren’t getting about that.”

“You don’t know that,” Lexi refuted, her voice growing louder. “You don’t know what I need, and I don’t know why you keep thinking you get to choose for me, Mona. I am a grown ass woman.”

“Yeah, you are, Lex,” Mona agreed, her eyes softening as she looked on at her sadly. “You’re a grown ass woman with a whole lot of potential that shouldn’t be stunted by who you’re with. I don’t have a future. I have nothing to offer. All I would do is hold you back, and you know it’s the truth,” Mona added, cutting off Lexi’s attempt to argue. “Don’t waste your life on me.”

Lexi swallowed roughly, saddened at how little value Mona placed in herself. Mona had many faults, but more than enough positive qualities to make up for the negative, and so much potential to do more. Maybe Lexi was a complete fool to still hold onto the good in her after all they’d been through. But hadn’t Mona done the same with her?

“You’re wrong,” Lexi finally said, shaking her head. “But that...I don’t have all the answers. I-” Lexi sighed heavily, flustered. “I know this isn’t logical, nothing about us has ever been logical, but we can figure it out. I know we can. I just need you to be in this with me. I need you to stay.”

Mona stared at her, conflicted. She couldn’t see this ending well. She didn’t know how to stay put. She didn’t know how to care for someone and let them care for her. She didn’t know how to be in a relationship. She didn’t know how to exist on the other side of society. Didn’t know, didn’t know, didn’t know…

Mona was brought back to the present moment by the jolt of heat she felt in her body, triggered by Lexi sliding her hand over Mona’s. She stared at their hands in silence, feeling her resolve crumble and trying desperately to fight it. But...why? Because I’m scared.

Mona gulped, reality setting in. She was scared of failing. Scared of being vulnerable, because that’s just asking to get hurt. Scared of letting herself get more invested just for it to fall apart. This sort of thing had never worked out well for her. But then again she’d never had someone willing to fight for her, much less someone she was willing to fight for. What did she really have to lose? My whole identity…but again, where had that gotten her?

“I can’t promise you I won’t be a nightmare,” Mona finally said, eyes still on their hands. Lexi’s heart leapt to her throat, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her body.

“As opposed to…?” Lexi teased, a smile cracking despite Mona’s attempts at keeping a straight face.

“And you gotta move. That place is a doghouse.”

“Hey!” Lexi protested with a laugh, “that doghouse has gotten me through rough times.”

“I can tell,” Mona retorted. “It served its purpose. Time to go.”

“You know you’re gonna have to tell me your real name, right?”

Mona snorted, shaking her head with a lazy grin. “Not on your life.”

“Is it Mary? Judith? Alice...no, Bethany! Definitely Bethany.”

Mona snorted, beer flying out of her mouth as Lexi continued to call off random names with an amused grin on her face.

“Don’t change the subject. Move.”

“I am not moving unless it’s out of state,” Lexi argued with a laugh, finishing off her drink. Mona smirked, finishing hers as well with a satisfied sound.

“Say the word.”

A slow smile spread across Lexi’s face, and despite Mona’s typical aversion to smiling, she found herself mirroring Lexi.

“Oh, I will.”

2 months later…

“Babe?” Lexi called out, eyes still glued to the email maximized on her computer screen. Mona made an affirmative noise as she popped her head out of the kitchen, her mouth full as she had just taken a bite of a sandwich. “Lets go.”

“Go…?” Mona asked in confusion, wiping crumbs off her face as she walked toward Lexi, a curious expression on her face.

“Yeah. I’m saying the word. Let’s go.” Mona paused her steps for a moment, taken aback; Lexi had a real knack for catching her off guard. Noticing Lexi’s attention hadn’t strayed from her screen, she continued toward her, reading the email over her shoulder as she took another mouthful of sandwich.

“Blah blah blah, thank you for your interest...lots of candidates...” Mona muttered under her breath as she scanned the text, “...would like to formally congratulate you on being selected for a clerkship with the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office?!” Mona was practically yelling as she met Lexi’s gaze. A slow grin spread across her face as she swallowed her bite and tossed her sandwich on the desk, taking Lexi’s face in her hands and pressing a loud kiss on her mouth. Lexi laughed, savoring the little kisses being pressed all over her face.

“Philly?” Mona asked, still cradling Lexi’s face in her hands.

Lexi nodded enthusiastically, her hands resting on Mona’s wrists as she kissed her again. “Philly.”

—

Present Day

“Time…?”

Mona rolled her eyes teasingly. “Yes, time.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it was a great surprise. I just assumed we’d talk about it first.”

“Eh, you know I act on impulse,” Mona replied cheekily, half shrugging. “Grand gestures and all.”

Once Lexi got the clerkship, they’d essentially concluded that anything not-quite-kosher Mona did would have to be discreet and away from home, have no expectation of permanency, and Lexi would be kept in the dark to protect her career...which meant Mona was mostly in the dark about hers.

In all honesty Mona had kept it pretty clean over the years, mostly because she didn’t want to mess anything up for Lexi, but also because shockingly, she quite enjoyed finding other interests that utilized her skills and knowledge without the propensity of getting her tailed by the law. And she still quite enjoyed her freedom. If she hadn’t kept her name out of peoples mouths and networks, she never would have set foot within 100 feet of the place. But as she was doing some general upkeep on her car one day (her form of therapy), she realized she was tired of keeping their lives separate in any capacity, and there was no need for it anymore. So she went to a store, got her a congratulatory gift (for old times sake), and ended up in Lexi’s office for the first time.

Mona walked over to Lexi, pulling on her wrists until she was standing upright. Her hands fell to rest on Lexi’s waist, fingers rubbing the fabric of her blouse between her fingers. “Don’t worry. I’m good. You’re good. Relax.” Mona’s gaze ran up the length of Lexi’s body, pausing on her mouth before meeting Lexi’s eyes.

“I’m relaxed. Can I help you?” Lexi asked breathily with a teasing tone, still amazed at how her body continued to respond so easily to her after all these years.

“You can help me with a lot of things looking like that,” Mona said lowly, wiggling her eyebrows as she slowly backed Lexi against her desk, hands resting on the wood on either side of her. Lexi’s eyes fluttered closed as Mona leaned in closer, anticipating Mona’s lips against hers. After a few seconds of no contact, Lexi opened her eyes, meeting Mona’s wide brown eyes.

Mona reached up, pushing one of Lexi’s loose strands behind her ear. Her fingers trailed down Lexi’s cheek softly, down her neck and the middle of her chest. Lexi’s breath became labored. Not in my office...right?

“What?” she asked, craving contact desperately.

“You’re just so damn beautiful,” Mona murmured, her thumb brushing against Lexi’s lips. “Dunno how I lucked out so hard in life, but I won’t argue with it.”

Lexi smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Mona’s thumb before taking it between her teeth. Mona bit her bottom lip; damnit, why’d she have to be so sexy? Mona removed her thumb quickly and kissed Lexi roughly, though her hands cradled Lexi’s face with a tenderness that didn’t seem fitting for Mona even over the years. Lexi melted against Mona, completely willing to give in to her, just as she always had been. Mona pulled back despite Lexi’s protests and smiled softly at her.

“I should go,” Mona said, straightening herself out.

“Probably,” Lexi replied begrudgingly. “But you should definitely make this a regular thing.”

“Don’t press your luck,” Mona joked, shooting her a wink as she headed toward the door. She paused after opening the door, turning to look at Lexi as she leaned against her desk with a grin. Never in a million years did Mona think this was how it would end up. If someone had told her even five years ago that she’d finally be willing to give up the only life she knew for the girl that ultimately got her thrown in prison then would become an assistant DA, she would have told them to fuck off. But here she was all these years later, still lost on Lexi just as she always had been.

Mona grinned back, possibly bigger than she’d ever smiled in her life. Lexi’s heart skipped, still in awe of how strongly she felt for Mona in spite of time and everything they’d gone through. Mona wasn’t always one for words, but her gestures spoke volumes, and when she committed to something she didn’t back down. They struggled at times, but at the end of the day all they cared about was staying together and they stubbornly figured out how to navigate their firsts.

Mona glanced around the office one last time, her eyes landing on Lexi again. “I’m feeling crazy fucking proud right now,” she said, “which is kinda new for me and I’m not sure how I feel about it.” Lexi laughed to avoid being a crying mess, overwhelmed with emotion. “But you deserve it, hotshot.”

“You’re my favorite.”

Mona smirked, tapping the door frame a few times before heading out. “I’ll see you at home.”

Home. Such a foreign concept, even still. Like good ol’ lesbians, they moved in together immediately. Mona had done a smart enough job hiding her money before she was arrested, so she had a good amount to contribute in order to get her way and move somewhere more suitable, plus do some odds and ends jobs for a while to contribute to recurring expenses. But Mona recognized it wasn’t the house itself that made it a home; it was her. Lexi always felt like home. She made Mona feel like a better person, like maybe one day she could be deserving of what she had. But even though she wasn’t there yet, Mona knew one thing for sure: as long as Lexi wanted her, she was there. Always.

#mona x mc #rod mona #mona rod #mona x mc fic #mona x mc fics #ride or die #choices ride or die #playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 6 years ago

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2019 Jason Manns FanFic FanArt Project

This project is finished!

See the completed book online HERE.

Jason was sweet about the book, as always, and was sad that this will be the last one. I think he’s finally gotten into the idea, but he understands that we can’t keep doing these forever. No matter what, though, I’m proud of what we’ve done! We rock!

Rules for the project, and links to the original posts with the stories and art are below the cut!

As I’ve done for Louden Swain in the past, so shall I do for Jason Manns! But only with your help!

Jason Manns has been an adjacent part of our show for over a decade, now. His music has been featured on the show, and he’s close friends with many of the cast, as well as a frequent collaborator with them, which has brought us so many projects with our favorites! In order to thank him for everything he does for us, I want us to do for him what we’ve done for Louden Swain.

If you’re new to this type of thing, check out previous Louden Swain projects:

2016 - Masterpost - Finished book

2017 - Masterpost - Finished book

2018 - Masterpost - Finished book

This is just like the Louden Swain Projects of the past, so if you’re familiar with them, this will be old hat for you.

This will NOT include any of his covers albums! This is for his original music, only!

I’m looking for BOTH writers and artists for this! For the Louden Swain projects, we’ve had art/aesthetics/edits for every story and I’d love to do the same with this. Whether you’re drawing or making aesthetics or doing something else, WE WANT YOU. All art and stories will be put together, printed, put in a snazzy binder, and presented to Jason in DC!

Everything you need to know is below the cut!

Here’s the schedule:

6/22/19 5:00PM EDT - I will post the rules and regs and open the projects up so you guys can start claiming songs. Only one song request at a time (though you can list a backup song or two if your first request is already taken). Once you have finished and posted your first request, then you may make a second request. (Note: Due to a mistake on my part last year, the fic for She Waits has already been written, so this song is not available this year.)

9/2/19 Midnight EDT - Deadline for writers. This gives writers 10 weeks, plus the US Labor Day holiday.

9/29/19 Midnight EDT - Deadline for artists. This give artists 4 extra weeks after the writing is done.

This schedule then gives me about three weeks to put everything together and prep for the con.

Here are the rules (below the cut):

Deadlines are final. NO LATE ENTRIES! If you find you need more time, let me know and we can try to work something out. I’m not going to make a deadline to sign up, but if you sign up the week before the end, you will only have a week to complete your part. If you want to do two, you must finish your first before you will be allowed to reserve a second song.

Artists: - You will be expected to work with writers so the art reflects the story. Whether you pick a song you like and get together with the writer, or pick a writer you like and get together on a song, it doesn’t matter to me. - If you’d like me to pair you with a writer, let me know, and I will match you up with someone. Most times, I have more writers than artists. If you are willing to work for multiple writers, I would be most grateful!!! In the past, I’ve had a pool of artists, and I tried to divvy up assignments as fairly as possible so no one artist gets all the work. - SEND ME AN ASK or an IM or whatever and let me know what you want to do. Whether you’re working with a writer on one, or willing to be part of a pool that works on multiple, just let me know! - When you’re making your art, keep in mind that it will be pasted into a Word document, printed on letter-sized paper, and put into a sheet protector in a binder. You might want to print out what you make to see how it looks on the page. (You can check out the finished projects above for reference.) - You can post your art in your own post and tag me and #2019 Jason Manns FanFic FanArt Project or submit it to me through my blog or send it to me via carrier pigeon (please don’t send it via carrier pigeon, they poop a lot and I have cats) or drop me a line and I’ll give you an email address to send it to. - I would love some original cover art! If you are an artist and are interested in doing something, send me a message and we can talk concepts!!

Writers: - Can be any pairing or ship, reader-insert or OC, or even no pairing, whatever floats your boat. Please no RPF. - Please no smut. Anything else is up for grabs. Or maybe just a headcanon kind of thing. - Pick a song and SEND ME AN ASK with the song you have picked to sign up. I will update a masterpost on my blog with the songs taken. Songs will be assigned on a first come, first serve basis. - You can’t write for the same song you wrote about in previous projects. This is to ensure variety in the stories from project to project. - Tag me in your fic, plus use the tag #2019 Jason Manns FanFic FanArt Project. You can also submit your fic to me through my blog, or send me a message and we can discuss the pigeon and email options. (Really prefer no pigeons.) - You must use a Keep Reading feature if your fic is posted to Tumblr and over 500 words. - Your fic can either be a story based on the song or just have it somehow highlight the song. Since Jason will get to read these, I’d rather the fics be more relevant than just a song playing on the radio in the background, but do what you can. - Your fic can also be a part of another challenge, BUT make your fic relevant to the song you choose, please! (Basically, please do more for this challenge than having a Jason Manns song playing in the background.) - If I haven’t liked or reblogged your post within a couple days, let me know I missed it! - I will give your work a basic grammar/spelling proofreading before adding it to the project. If you would like, I can beta read your story for you before you post it, too. Just let me know!

Everyone: - If you would like to include a short summary of why you like the song you picked, especially if the song has some special meaning to you, I will add that to your submission in the final project. If you look at the previous projects (links are at the top of this post), you can see the kind of thing I’m talking about at the top of some of the stories. Please keep these brief, though.

And now, for something completely different: If you are interested in doing something completely different than a Supernatural-related story or art/edit, talk to me about it, and I’ll figure out a way to include it. Letters to the band or stories that are not SPN-related can be printed out and presented separately, and a list of links to posted audio or video submissions can be added.

I’m so excited to see what everyone does!! As songs are claimed, this list will be updated!

Song List:

Album - Jason Manns Vision Another Number Perfect Spot Journey I Remember Your Song The Same Reminders All I Ask Without You - @andromytta (fic) @brothersinsync (art)

Album - Soul Soul Never Let You Go Hold On Me Real World Rooftop Rendevous - @wingedcatninja (fic and art) Vagabond Blues You Take My Blues Away - @winchestergirl-13 (fic) (art) He’ll Walk Away Breathe In Two Pictures

Album - Move Move Down Never Let You Leave Me (Again) Weary Man Let Loose Need My Muse To Dance Put the Past Behind - @robbenedictandco (fic) @espada-iv (art) The One Who Lifts Me Up - @winchestergirl-13 (fic) (art) Let It Go

Single - When Did I Stop Believing

Cover art by @alaskanartist

Tagging past participants and other possibly interested people: @a-winchester-fairtytale @adriellej @alangel1895 @andromytta @anotherwinchesterfangirl @archangel-with-a-shotgun @archangelsanonymous @atc74 @brothersinsync @castiels-forbidden-angel @crashdevlin @curliesallovertheplace @deansleather @dont-hate-relate-pls @ellen-reincarnated1967 @enchantedstarfleet @take-my-crookedwheel @growningupgeek @hideyourdemoneyes @i-cant-believe-its-not-satan @i-dont-understand-that-url @icecream-and-gadreel @iwantthedean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @jpadjackles-mishamark @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lifeonsarz @littlegreenplasticsoldier @loudenswainfangirl @manawhaat @mandilion76 @multi-fan-dom-madness @mysupernaturalfics @narrettwist @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @padamooseandgrasshopper @pastelspn @personal-boogeyman @purgatoan @robbenedictandco @roxy-davenport @samanddeanwinchester67 @sams-little-toy @samsexualdeancurious @saritaa-chan @scorpiongirl1 @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @smmywinchester45 @stunt-idjit-number-two @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @toastiel @tricia-16 @trollhunter94 @waywardnerd67 @wideawakeandwriting @winchestergirl-13 @writingfromkitchenator @ilostmyshoe-79 @wingedcatninja @desiraelovesdestiel @impala-dreamer

#incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #2019 jason manns fanfic fanart project #Jason Manns #the station breaks

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