Not_Mendax
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Summary
Soulmate marks were an alien invention, literally. But they stuck around and so you carried those words on your body, and you yearned, and you wished for that person to come along. Of course, he arrived only after you'd given up, and only after there was blood on your hands.
The thought of being marked with words from Foggy Nelson's killer sent spirals of shame and guilt to your core, but a fragile, thin line stretched between the two of you, and it wouldn't be broken.
Crying. Someone was crying.
You were crying, you realized slowly, each individual tear tracing a new path down your face. Knew it only when you saw his eyes tracking a single drop down your skin, along your cheek and then the line of your jaw, before sliding the length of your neck to settle in the hollow at the base of your throat. He took a step forward then, and another. You thought you could see him swallow, beneath the thick fabric of his mask, thought there might be a slight tremor in his free hand for just the briefest of moments before he tucked what he could not control away and out of sight.
Series
- Part 1 of the tip of your blade leaves a drag path
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Summary
benjamin poindexter does not believe in fate. he believes in structure, routine, and predictability. but then, he meets you. his new next door neighbor.
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The first thing you remember is the hospital.
The second is Mark Grayson.He tells you your name. He tells you who you are. He tells you about your apartment, your favorite coffee, the books you like, and all the little pieces of a life you’ve somehow forgotten. He’s patient when you’re frightened, gentle when you apologize too much, and never once asks you to remember faster than you’re able.
As your memories refuse to return, you begin rebuilding yourself through the stories he tells.
After all…
If you can’t trust your own mind, who else is there to trust?
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There are far worse things than dying under Viltrum rule. Mark will show you.
A series exploring different variants and their relationship with you.
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Summary
You have wandered far from your cage, haven’t you, songbird?
Jason sat upright at once, breath catching in his throat. Suddenly the room didn’t feel all too welcoming as before.
Or,
Priest Jason seems to have acquired a very devoted supernatural follower.