#Its like he needs to believe jimmy still needs him. in like a possessive way. Its really weird man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purplecoffee13 · 5 months

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The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 3*

Summary: “Y/N finds out the complicated truth about the reason for her role as fake-girlfriend, and gets a bit possessive over Harry.”

Wc: 4.2k

Tropes: semi-enemies-to-lovers (she hates him)

Warnings: possessiveness (mostly from her), oral (m!receiving), cursing, dirty talk, sexual tension THROUGH THE ROOF, angst and insecurities

The next morning, I awake by the sunlight beaming through the window and right onto my face. I open my eyes, my body more relaxed than it has been in weeks, and my lips can't help but form into a lazy smile at thinking of the reason why.

However, the reason why isn't here.

A small frown creases my forehead, especially because I'm not hearing any noise from the bathroom. I lean towards Harry's side of the bed, and spot a note on his nightstand.

'Fulfilling groomsmen duties.

Breakfast is on the dresser.

Catch you later, H.'

Though it was sweet of him to leave a note, and to let me sleep in and leave me breakfast, my heart still churns at the idea that I won't see him until the afternoon. I had hoped we could talk about whatever the fuck happened yesterday, but I guess it will have to wait.

My heart flutters though, as I munch down my breakfast before hopping in the shower. Since I slept in, I have to hurry a little bit if I want to be ready in time.

Luckily I have my hair and make-up done in time, and I manage to strategically shimmy into my dress without ruining any of it. I send a silent prayer as I put on my heels, hoping the blisters will not form until after the ceremony.

After checking the itinerary, I start to make my way to the garden where the ceremony is to be held. Upon exiting our room, I run into a hard body which manages to catch before I fall onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Matthew spits out as he helps me balance myself out again. I nod at him, smoothing my dress and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going." I awkwardly smile at him. He waves it off, and extends his arm to me.

"Need an escort to the garden?" He asks with a genuine smile. I hesitate for a moment, but from his body language, I gather that he got Harry's message from yesterday.

"That would be great."

We begin to walk and I immediately spot other people going the same way as us, easing my anxiety about getting there too early.

"Where is Harry?" Matthew brings me back into the moment after momentarily getting caught up in my thoughts.

"Uhm— groomsmen duties, he said." I answer, and Matthew hums. We walk down some stairs that are needed to take in order to reach the garden.

"You're not a groomsman?" Maybe it was a little too intrusive, but it was too late to take it back now. Matthew shook his head.

"Jimmy and Harry were in a football team together since they were little. It's how our Rosa met him. Jimmy and Rosa kind of see Harry as the reason why they got together, so even though they are not as close as they used to be, Jimmy made him a groomsmen." He explains, and I nod my head. That's an interesting part of his family history I did not yet know, and it makes me wonder. Maybe Matthew knows about the girl Harry's family wants to set him up with, the reason I’m here.

"What's with that frown?" Matthew goes to stand in front of me and lowers himself down to my height. I widen my eyes at him and force an exaggerated smile.

"Nothing, nothing..." I chuckle, shaking my head. He raises his eyebrows, not believing me one bit, but laughing along anyway.

"Let's go sit." He says, and leads us to the assigned seats, secretly rearranging them so we can sit next to each other. I laugh at his inability to be subtle, but he manages to pull it off nonetheless. We sit down, and I take in the garden and its beauty. Slowly, I spot the people who are here, and it dawns on me; everyone is very beautiful, especially the girls.

I spot a lengthy blonde in a baby pink dress, chatting with two brunettes whose dresses look like they were picked out from a runway. My brows crease at the sight of everyone's perfect hair, and I find myself smoothing out my own, which seems like a poor excuse for a head of hair now. My heart begins to beat faster and— oh my god I'm going crazy.

"Matthew." I say his name, sounding a bit more urging than I wanted to. His head shoots towards mine.

"Yeah?" He asks softly, a bit of concern evident on his face.

"Uhm… Harry– well, he told me about this girl–"

"Ophelia?"

Ophelia? That's her name?! If that is her actual name then I can't imagine what she looks like. Probably as ethereal as her name.

"I don't know, he never gave a name. But, he said she was going to be here." I tell him, and he hums. I wait to see if he's going to give me any information, but he doesn't say anything. "What– um, what do you know about her?"

My attempt at casualness falters with the stutter of my voice. Matthew lets out a breathy laugh at my nervous question, and is quick to stroke my arm.

"You have nothing to worry about, Y/N." He tries to assure me, and I give him a quick nod.

"I know, I know... I was just wondering, that's all." I turn my body away from Matthew, realizing how pathetic I was beginning to sound.

So what, Harry gave me an amazing orgasm and I think I'm developing a crush on him? I lost my best friend because of him. Well, I guess she was always a bit mean in hindsight, but still. Just because he was nice yesterday, doesn’t mean I should be acting like this.

"Ophelia's mom is good friends with Harry's mom, so they've known each other since middle school.” Matthew suddenly speaks up, and I can feel the blood rise to my cheeks. “They dated for about two years, went to prom together and everything, but they broke up when they graduated."

They dated..?

"Ophelia got a new boyfriend not long after the break-up. They got engaged and everything, but the guy cheated on her so they broke off the engagement like six months ago. Since then, Harry's mom has been forcing him to reconcile with Ophelia, but he was actively opposed to it. Sheila wouldn't let it go though, and usually Harry doesn't mind doing his mom a favor, but this time he was really against it. Now we know why." He smiles at me, like I should be glad with the end of this story.

He dated her for two whole years. They went to prom together, they've known each other since middle school, and his mom is a fan of hers. She wants her son to end up with that girl. I stand absolutely no chance. There is way too much history there. I could never stand above anything like that, ever. God, I hate that. Why do I hate that so much?

My eyes refuse to meet Matthew, but I give him a sad excuse for a smile anyway, to make it seem like he didn't just unintentionally put a serious damper on my mood.

Then, the music starts, and the ceremony begins. I didn't even notice the groom and his men standing by the altar already, but when I look, I catch Harry's eyes on me. He looks confused, or rather concerned. His brows are deeply creased.

I tear my eyes off of him when the bridesmaids walk in, and I immediate know, I immediately feel who Ophelia is.

Gorgeous, long blonde hair with sparkling green eyes and a smile that every Hollywood celebrity pays a good amount of money for. Her petite figure makes me feel immensely big and I hate myself for comparing myself to someone who could not look more different from me. She is stunning and I understand why everyone is so enamored with her. I'm sure she's very nice too.

I know my insecurities are not her fault, but damn do I feel vulnerable when I catch her staring at Harry. My gaze flies towards my fake boyfriend, but it seems that he is still looking at me. I throw him a smile and give a thumbs up, but I only receive a weak, half-smirk in return.

The ceremony seems to last forever, yet I don't catch everything of it. I'm met with a constant pit in my stomach that needs to be flushed away with a glass of wine. I need to get my shit together, and then put it aside, at least until this trip is over. I can figure out my intricate feelings when we're back on the campus, but until that time, I need to play the part and I need to play it well. If anything I should be lucky it isn't as difficult as it was a few weeks ago.

After the bride and groom have gone off to take pictures together, we are all given a glass of champagne. I gladly take one and clink my glass with that of Matthew as we talk about the ceremony and the wedding vows. Harry has disappeared once again, along with the other groomsmen and bridesmaids, so I guess I won't see him until dinner.

I chat a bit with Harry's parents, and Matthew introduces me to some friends of Jimmy's. They're all very nice, some them a bit too flirtatious, but it takes my mind off the Ophelia of it all.

About ten minutes have passed and we make it to the dining hall, where Matthew and I are separated, not before he escorts me to my table of course. My table is very close to that of Rosa and Jimmy, who have seated all of their bridesmaids and groomsmen together.

I sit down and am tapped on my shoulder by Quinten, one of Jimmy's friends who Matthew just introduced me to, and who is sitting at the table behind me. I turn around and begin to chat the time away with him. So much, that I don't notice someone standing besides us until he coughs awkwardly to get our attention.

When I look up at Harry, my mouth falls open a little bit. He looks criminally beautiful in his suit, and his jawline looks to prominent from this angle. I suck in a deep breath at the realization that I had temporarily stopped breathing altogether, and all of my insecurities and blues are washed away by the need to drag him to the nearest bathroom.

"Hi." I manage to let out, a sheepish smile on my face. Harry doesn't look very amused, hands still in his pockets, as his eyes dart from me to Quinten.

"Hey man." Quinten says, but he gets nothing more than a murmured 'hey' from Harry before he tugs on my arm, pulling me out of my chair and into his embrace, where his nose buries into my neck and I feel him taking in my scent. He leaves a couple of kisses there before pulling his head back to look at me.

"You... are breathtaking." He slowly says, staring into my eyes. My cheeks burn at the flattery, but it's impossible to look away from him. My mind is dizzy from his hands — one on the small on my back and the other one on my waist —, and I am feeling too many things at the same time.

I'm still frustrated with him for throwing me into the lion's den without properly telling me what I was getting myself into, I'm giddy because he is too pretty and his eyes glisten in this light, but most of all I'm horny and I want him right now. Ophelia may have him when all of this is over, but for the remainder of this trip he is still mine.

"And you are a shit excuse for a fake boyfriend." I tell him, and look to the side with my nose high up in the air. He raises his brows, clearly taken aback by my response. He doesn't lose his playfulness, though; a wide grin on his face as he lowers his head until the heat of his breath reaches my ear.

"Didn't you read my note?" He asks lowly, before planting a kiss on my ear.

"I did, but it didn't include you saying I wouldn't see you the entire day." I sputter, crossing my arms together. He pulls back with a wary smile.

"Did you miss me today, love?" He asks. I don't initially respond, because I did miss him and that reality is too terrifying to confess.

"So, you and Ophelia dated, huh?" I change the topic, deciding that I might as well throw it on the table. Just so he knows, that I know. "You know, you could've told me this is about making someone jealous."

I purposefully imply something there, solely to see if it's true. Harry's face falters for just a second, and I ask myself whether I even want him to answer this question.

"Y/N, it's–"

"I'm just saying," I cut him off and take a step closer to him, because I, in fact, do not want to know his answer. "If I would've known, I would've played my part better. But I'll be good for you tonight."

"Y/N..." he sounds almost whiny, and that sounds a bit too good to me to stop.

"I promise I'll be a good fake girlfriend, alright?" I smile at him, my arm snaking around his neck. He swallows, then gives me a firm nod.

***

Dinner is excruciating. Harry and I are leaned towards each other the entire time, trying to sit as close to each other as we can. He keeps his hand firmly on my thigh, and in between courses it sneaks to the back of my neck, doodling traces on my skin with his fingertips.

We exchange our so-called love story with everyone at the table and all of them assure me that they have never seen Harry so in love before. I laugh when I turn my head to him and he says it's true. Partly because I know it isn't, and partly because I find it hilarious how a part of me almost believe it to be true anyway.

After dinner, everyone scatters a bit around the room, and the dance floor gets cleared up for the first dance. I don't miss the perfect girl from the past that starts nearing our now empty table, and neither does Harry.

Ophelia awkwardly waves at the both of us; Harry waves back but I only give her a half-smile.

"Can I talk to you for a bit?" She asks Harry hesitantly, and I can't help but fight the smile at the audacity of this girl. But then again, they've known each other for a long time, so technically I am just a temporary nuisance to her.

Harry's head shoots towards me. He doesn't want to be left alone with her, it seems, but I don't make a scene like he secretly wants me to. His green eyes bore into mine and I resent him for a moment just for how pretty he is. I really don't want his eyes on Ophelia, but it is inevitable. A bold thought enters my mind.

I kiss him, just a soft kiss that lasts no more than a few seconds. When I pull back, my mouth travels to his ear and I trace his jawline with my fingertip on the other side of his face as I whisper into his ear.

"I just want you to picture me on my knees in front of you, returning your favor from yesterday, while you talk to her. Something to look forward to after your little conversation with her, hmm?"

Harry doesn't have time to respond because I have already stood up and started walking towards the bar by the time I finished my sentence.

As I wait for the drinks I ordered, I run into two other guys Matthew introduced me to. Robert and Simon, if I remember correctly.

"Getting drinks?" Simon rhetorically asks, pushing some of his blonde hair away from his face, and I raise my glass at him to answer his question. The two chuckle at me.

"Yes, what about you guys?"

"We're just wondering why a woman like you is getting drinks for herself at the bar." Robert smirks, and I playfully roll my eyes. Just at that moment, the bartender sets down Harry's drink in front of me.

"For myself and my date." I correct them with a smile, but they don't seem intimidated by the fact that I am here with someone.

"Shitty date." Simon quips.

"Yeah, you deserve better than that." Robert says, brown eyes full with empty confidence. He earns a supportive nod from his friend.

"Are you guys implying that I can't get my own drinks?" I reiterate, catching them a bit off guard. I can tell they have no idea what to say, they're confused by the contradiction of my supposed sweet smile and my sneering words. As if it was meant to be, I feel a hand on the small of my back.

"Sorry gentlemen, I'm taking back my girlfriend for a minute." Harry's voice suddenly sounds from beside me, and his hand press against me more, urging me to walk with him. I wave goodbye to Robert and Simon and follow him along as he walks — rather fast — towards the exit of the dining hall.

He takes me to a door and opens it, revealing a pitch black room. I frown at it, but hurry in anyway when he grits 'get in' through his teeth. I flinch when he turns on the light and reveals the broom closet we are currently finding ourselves in.

I am about to criticize the harsh lighting of the room, when all of a sudden Harry grabs my waist, turns me around and plants his lips on mine with a need I thought only I was feeling.

I stumble back a bit but he snakes his entire arm around my waist and pulls me into him, turning us around and then backing me up against the door. After a while of making out, he begins to move his lips from jawline to my neck, and lower...

I pant as he assaults my skin by sucking, kissing and biting every part of it. I whimper at the sensation of his skin against mine and close my eyes to enjoy it most optimally.

"You drive me insane, do you know that?" He growls into my neck, and I moan when his hand grabs one of my breasts and starts massaging it.

"No, you do." I push him off of me, and he lets go very easily. I take the opportunity to turn us around, pushing him against the door with all my strength, a few of his curls land in front of his face as his back hits the surface. I go to unzip his pants, and sink down in front of him as I pull his trousers down.

"You disappear all day..." I slowly lower his underwear down his legs, and he hisses at the sensitivity his hardened cock feels from the restraint. I know Harry's big, my ex friend told me about it, and the tent in his underpants only confirmed it for me. "And I find out you spent the entire day around your ex-girlfriend."

His cock springs out of its confinements when I finally pull his underpants all the way down, and I try not to look intimidated by the actual sight of his size. Instead, I lean forward and let some saliva slowly trickle onto the top of his cock, and spread it out with my hand. The immediate groan at the touch of my hand makes me feel things I shouldn't, so I try to ignore it and focus on making Harry come.

"Fuck, baby... I–"

"Such a bad fake boyfriend today, weren't you?" I begin to pump him, and delight in the way his breathing becomes heavier with every stroke. When he doesn't respond right away, I tighten my grip around his dick a little bit, earning a moan from him.

"Yes baby. I'm sorry, baby." He mutters, and my stomach twists in every which way at the sound of the pet name he’s given me today.

I decide that enough is enough, I won't make him wait any longer — also because I can’t wait any longer — so I take him in my mouth. He is quite big, so I have to use my hand to make up for the parts my throat isn't able to take just yet. I take my time working his cock deeper and deeper into my throat.

Making sure to keep an eye out on him, I look up at him through my eyelashes, my panties pooling as I watch Harry falling apart above me. He’s clenching his jaw hard, head leaned back against the door.

"Jesus, fuck!" He curses, out of breath from the pleasure I am giving him. That notion alone gives me a dizzying rush of power. His hand finds it way to my hair and he softly plays with it as I keep sucking him off. "Such a g–good girl, fucking hell."

I take him out of my mouth for a moment and get back to rubbing him off, a devilish smirk on my face as he succumbs almost entirely to my touch. The moans that leave his throat almost make me orgasm myself. I can’t contain the moan I let out.

"Tell me Harry, did you think of me?" I pick up the pace just a little bit more. "When you talked to her, did you imagine me like this? Bruising my knees for you?"

"Fuck— yeah baby... Always think of you." His eyes are tightly shut as he rasps out a response. I take him back into my mouth, needing his release almost as much him.

"Oh... Y/N, if you keep doing that I'm gonna come." He says when I take him as deep as I can and his dick touches the back of my throat. I am too busy controlling my breathing, and besides, I want him to come right here, right now.

"Baby, baby, fucking... hell!” He groans out and I begin to feel spurts of his hot cum launch into my throat. I meal at the feeling and the idea of his cum in my mouth and I wait until he's ridden out his high to completely remove myself from his dick.

I get up and make sure he watches me as I swallow the load he just gave me. He stares at me with big eyes, completely out of breath.

“Was it just like you imagined?” I ask with a devious smile, wiping off the remains of him from the corner of my mouth. He lets out a chuckle of disbelief, and my heart is racing at the way he is standing there, entirely defeated, but a hand on my waist anyway.

“I don’t know what I did right to deserve that.” He mutters, a joking tone to his voice, but my cheeks still heat up at the compliment. I realize, I have never taken this much pleasure out of pleasuring someone else. I’d pay serious money to have him crumble for me like that again, and because that thought scared me to death, I push it far away into the back of my head.

“Put on your pants. You’re taking me to dance.” I order him around, and he raises his brows in surprise, and leans down to put on his trousers.

“You like being in control, don’t you?” He asks as he zips his pants. A few curls have fallen to the front of his face and I don’t think I have ever seen an image that screams ‘sex’ more than that one. I shrug.

“I like seeing you fall apart for me.” I confess, because it’s true. I’ve never explicitly liked being in control, I’m a bit more submissive in that sense. But seeing him in that state of euphoria, and knowing it’s because of me… that is what I enjoyed the most.

“Do you now?” He looks up at me with a soft half-smile, and he pushes some hair from the front of my face behind my ear while pulling me into him with his other hand. I nod at him.

He stares at my face a for a bit, analyzing every feature in the comfortable silence that overtakes us. My shoulders automatically tense when his gaze, and thereby the entire energy around us, shifts from soft to almost… sad?

He fixes his posture and plants a kiss to my forehead before moving away from the door, opening it, then turning back to me.

“Dance?” I ask him almost desperately, hoping his energy will shift back.

“Drink, first.” He gives me an awkward smile, and I know there’s no going back to how it was just a few seconds ago. He saw something when he looked at me just now. I don’t know what it was, but it’s almost like it scared him. This relationship is getting too complicated, and I don’t know what I should take as the truth while we are still here.

Maybe, whatever scared him, is something I should be scared of too. Perhaps, taking a step back is the best for both of us, even though it feels like the last thing I want want to do right now.

“Drink first.” I weakly lift the corner of my mouth, and walk past him out the door…

Part 4

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 13

A/N: ayyyy, lucky number 13! a lot of stuff goes down in this chapter, but you guys will be getting part of the resolution!! this isn’t the end though, there are two chapters left in the story! Oh also my pal Jack made a spotify playlist for this series, and all the songs on it work so well and absolutely slap!!

Warnings: possession, manipulation, swordfight, self-worth issues, violence, choking (not in the *wink* way stop it it’s meant to be angsty), kissing, hugs

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott didn’t know where he was. It was like he was standing in the Void, but there was something more off about the pitch black landscape than usual. It was tinted red, somehow. There was a deep crimson color that permeated the air, a thick fog that threatened to choke Scott- and then he saw him. It was- it was himself, sort of. The figure before him looked exactly like Scott, but something was definitely off. First was the color scheme of his clothing- red and black instead of the cyan and white of his empire. Then, most glaringly, was his eyes. Deep red, just like the corruption in Scott’s arm. And when he put a hand on the hilt of the dark blade strapped to his side and grinned, Scott saw far too sharp teeth.

“Who are you?!” Scott demanded, instinctively reaching for his sword and pleasantly surprised to find it sheathed at his side- he hadn’t remembered it being there before. The red version himself somehow managed to grin wider.

“A small part of a larger plan. He will be pleased to know I have you under my control,” the red Scott taunted. Scott’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“He? What plan, what are you talking about?” Scott asked, and the red version of himself laughed.

“So you don’t remember yet… that explains why you were so easy to defeat,” he taunted. Scott grit his teeth and drew his sword.

“You haven’t defeated me yet,” Scott growled. The red Scott only laughed, before lunging at Scott faster than he thought was possible. He blocked the incoming blow just in time, trying to push the red version of himself back.

“I won’t be as easy to defeat as your pathetic little fish boy,” the red Scott sneered.

“He isn’t mine,” Scott protested through gritted teeth before managing to push his other self back. He slashed at the red Scott, who easily sidestepped the attack.

“Oh you definitely made sure of that, didn’t you?” the red Scott scoffed. Scott’s attacks faltered, and his other self took the opening. Scott managed to evade most of the blow, but he was stumbling and unsteady now, and the edge of the red Scott’s blade ended up cutting his arm.

“This- this isn’t even about him,” Scott protested, but his voice came out weaker than he meant it to.

“But you can’t resist thinking about him anyway, can’t you? I’ve been in your head, Scott. No matter how hard you try, that fool in a cod head can’t escape your attention. But you ruined everything you could have had with him before it had barely begun,” the red Scott taunted, continuing to strike at Scott, and he could barely block the blows as he continued to speak.

“Stop,” Scott managed to get out, choking back a sob as he tried to continue fighting his other self.

“He was an Icarus, and you were his sun. He got too close and you burned him, Scott. Everything that you touch crashes and burns, so why not give in? Why not let me take the reins- certainly things would be better without you,” the red Scott crooned, and he didn’t even need to raise a sword to send Scott reeling. Before he knew what he was doing, he lowered his sword, and the red fog started closing in, becoming tangible and wrapping around Scott, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Wait- no!” Scott cried, trying to struggle against the strange red substance, but it was too late. It had Scott firmly in its clutches, and the red Scott grinned.

“Goodbye, Scott,” he said with a cackle, and the last thing Scott saw was a blade slashing towards him.

It had at most been a few hours since they had locked Jimmy away with Scott when he woke up. Scott sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving as he accidentally dislodged Jimmy’s hand from his own. Jimmy reached out for his hand again, but froze when he saw Scott’s eyes. They were red. Jimmy knew what he had to do- he had to tell the others that Scott had lost to the corruption. But Jimmy still couldn’t find it in himself to give up on Scott. So he sat there, frozen as he watched Scott catch his breath, eyes blood red and the corruption visibly pulsing beneath his skin.

“Scott?” Jimmy asked softly, still foolishly clinging to hope. Scott’s head snapped to him, and with a growl he lunged at Jimmy. He successfully tackled him to the ground, hands around his throat. A horrible choked noise escaped Jimmy’s lips as he clawed at Scott’s hands, struggling to breathe. He couldn’t even call out to his friends if he wanted to, and he felt his vision already darkening at the edges. His friends had been right, and all Jimmy could think about was how he would never see Scott’s brilliant icy blue eyes again.

Suddenly there was a bright purple flash between them. Gem’s crystal! It seemed to have worked, causing Scott to scramble off of Jimmy and hiss in pain. Jimmy rubbed at his throat, his other hand up placatingly as he gave Scott a pleading expression. But there was no recognition in Scott’s now crimson eyes, just fiery anger. He lunged at Jimmy again, despite the crystal around his neck, and the two of them grappled for control. The crystal still glowed brightly, causing Scott to hiss in pain, but he still kept coming after Jimmy, trying to pin him down and get a grip on his throat again. Jimmy had to get away, he had to call for help. He managed to shove Scott off of him, and scramble to his feet- but Scott got up just as quickly. There was a brief moment of stillness, of both of them catching their breath. But the second Jimmy tried to make a break for the hidden door, Scott’s wings suddenly drew back and snapped closed on Jimmy’s head, causing his ears to ring and his vision to blur from the blow. He fell to his knees, blinking rapidly to try and get his vision to clear. He vaguely registered a blur of white and blue lunging at him and fully tackling him down to the ground. He tried to push Scott off of him again, but his wrists were snatched up and forcefully pinned on either side of his head.

The ringing in Jimmy’s ears finally ceased and his vision cleared to see Scott above him with a manic, victorious grin on his face. And well… Jimmy got an idea. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea- but Scott had him pinned, and his face was inches away from Jimmy. He couldn’t help but think of the first time they fought like this- and that felt like centuries ago, now. Except that time Jimmy didn’t think either of them wanted the other to die. But here Scott was, trying to kill Jimmy… and there was only thing Jimmy could think of to maybe unbalance Scott. So he lunged up, eyes squeezed shut as he crushed his lips against Scott’s. If he had kept his eyes open, he would have seen the red in Scott’s eyes flicker before they fluttered shut, and the corruption slowly seep out of his skin. But Jimmy was too focused on the way Scott kissed him back, hands releasing his wrists to instead cup his face and run through his hair. Jimmy almost got lost in the kiss- in Scott's small gasp paired with a pleasant shiver as Jimmy’s hands brushed the base of his wings when his arms wrapped around him, in how Scott kissed him as desperate as a man fighting not to drown- but then Jimmy remembered the reason he had kissed Scott in the first place. He neatly flipped them over, breaking the kiss and grabbing Scott’s hands, intending to pin him like he had done to Jimmy- but then he saw Scott’s eyes. They were confused and disorientated, but were the icy blue shade that Jimmy knew so well.

"You could at least take me out to dinner first before you pin me like that," he joked weakly. Jimmy let out a mildly hysterical laugh. He scrambled off of Scott to instead pull him into his lap and hug him tightly.

"You're okay!" he said in a gasp. Scott slowly hugged him back, expression twisted with confusion and disbelief.

“I- you- did you- but I thought I was dead... so- what? How?” Scott asked, looking like his brain was going a million miles a minute.

“That corruption in your skin- we did everything to try and stop it or remove it, but nothing was working- and it was up to you to fight it off and you almost didn’t- but of course you did in the end, you’re- you’re you…” Jimmy trailed off, pausing for only a brief moment before gently cradling Scott’s jaw and pulling him into a kiss. Scott kissed him back for half a second, before pulling back with wide eyes. Jimmy’s stomach started turning nervously, and he drew his hand back from Scott’s face.

“Why are you- you kissed me? And still want to kiss me? Why?” he asked in disbelief. Jimmy laughed nervously.

“I uh. I got carried away, huh? I just- I was so relieved you were alive, and that you were… you. And the first time I was just trying to throw you off, but I guess that was the final push you needed to fight back,” Jimmy explained sheepishly. Scott still looked hopelessly lost.

“But- but I betrayed you. And I just tried to kill you!” he protested.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimmy said softly.

“But I was when I was working with Fwhip! You- you shouldn’t want to do anything to do with me- you said so yourself!” he continued, tears gathering in his eyes. Jimmy took Scott’s hands, squeezing them gently as he looked at Scott right in the eyes.

“Scott. I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me that you cared, and I should have believed you when you told me that you were only trying to protect me. I’m sorry for pushing you away, Scott,” Jimmy said firmly. Scott still looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he didn’t pull away from Jimmy.

“But- but I wouldn’t have even gotten feelings for you if Fwhip hadn’t told me to keep an eye on you,” Scott protested weakly. Jimmy pondered this for a moment, gaze darting away before looking back to Scott with a softly determined expression.

“When did you first realize you had feelings for me?” he asked. Scott blinked in surprise at the question, and he swallowed nervously before answering.

“It was the day I had stolen the slimeball from you. You- you chased after me, grinning like an idiot and the scales on your stupid cod head were glinting like bronze in the sunlight… you- you were irrevocably radiant, and I realized I didn’t want a world without your smile or laugh in it,” Scott confessed softly. Jimmy grinned, heart soaring.

“That was when I realized it too. And if we’ve both cared about each other for that long… then what’s the point in getting fussed over the reason why?” Jimmy replied. Scott let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob as he abruptly leaned forward and hugged Jimmy tightly. Jimmy hugged him back, running a hand through rustled feathers and smoothing them out.

“I’m so sorry for everything, I know it wasn’t all my fault- but the explosion, everything before that…” Scott trailed off into sobs. Jimmy shifted, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“It’s alright, I promise you it’s alright- that you’re alright, and that we’re alright. I forgive you, it wasn’t your fault,” Jimmy murmured, holding Scott as he cried. Eventually the tears subsided, and Scott’s breathing evened out. Jimmy shifted slightly so that he could look Scott in the eyes- even if at first, that movement earned him a slight pout. Jimmy chuckled at the sight of it.

“Can we try that first kiss again? It keeps getting interrupted by silly things like trying to save each others’ lives and self-doubt,” he asked with a cocky grin. Scott laughed.

“I think I kind of like having you alive, Jimmy,” Scott said between laughs.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jimmy teased with a grin, easily falling back into their playful banter. Scott smirked, leaning in until he was a mere breath away from Jimmy. Jimmy’s heart rate spiked very quickly, and at this rate maybe Scott was still trying to kill him. Not that Jimmy was exactly complaining if this was the way he went out, a handsome winged elf in his lap looking at him like he was the world.

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot,” Scott murmured.

“Gladly,” Jimmy breathed out, before closing the little distance between them. It was fireworks behind Jimmy’s eyes, flowers blooming in his chest, it was sunlight and glittering gold- but most importantly it was Scott, alive and himself, safe in Jimmy’s arms.

Taglists below! Let me know if you wanna be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

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#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #flower husbands #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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avengersassemble-fics · 4 years

Text

New Perspective

Modern AU! Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Life seems to be falling apart around you as your husband of three years suddenly reveals an affair, and seeks a divorce. Your perfect life is flipped upside down with his revelation and you have to learn how to be you again. An unforeseen friendship starts to bloom between you and your neighbors new lover, but will these late night rooftop rambles be enough to keep you from going completely batshit crazy in the turmoil of your life?

part 01/?? “no sunshine”

word count 4.2k

an: hehehehe...... this is vastly different than anything i’ve ever written. lemme know what you think ok :) also this is the song mentioned in the story. its beautiful. please listen to it. this song got me through some wicked times. but it sets the tone for where someones mind is at in this.

The only thing people dreaded more in the morning then running late, missing their bus, or possibly anything that could go wrong that early in the day is the sound of the alarm that rings through your phone. It’s scientifically proven that 53% of people feel absolute dread when the incesstuous beeping that comes out of the tiny device startles them awake. But there are people who wake up before it even starts, already anticipating that god awful sound to start their day. You were one of those people as of late.

Before the sun had risen over the building around you and peeked into your bedroom, you were awake. You honestly couldn’t say if you had fallen asleep or not. Your eyes felt exceptionally dry but that could have been from the crying rather than the lack of sleep. But still, you watched your screen illuminate the room and ring loudly to let you know it was 7 am. You had to drag your hand to cancel it, and laid on your side for a few moments after.

You weren’t ready to “conquer the day”. You wanted it to disappear and you along with it. Unfortunately, life wasn’t as graceful to you as you hoped. Or else none of this would even be happening. You wouldn’t be lying here in the dark having to accept the fact your husband of three years was having strangers come and move all his stuff out. You wouldn’t have to be living with the fact that he wants a divorce and instead wants to be with the woman he cheated on you with. No, life was a piece of shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You pushed yourself up and rubbed at your face to try and get any kind of feeling back into it, or maybe just back into you. You threw the cover off your body to get out of bed, and fixed it right back to where it was perfectly neat. You hovered for a moment, your eyes going over the unslept side of the bed that he used to sleep in. It was perfectly intact, his dent almost completely faded away by now. It broke your heart to look at so you got dressed as fast as you could and went to the living room.

His boxes littered every square inch of the apartment, it was like climbing mountains for you to reach the small kitchen to get some kind of caffeine in you. But when you finally popped that K-Cup into the machine and it made you a steaming hot cup of coffee, you let it warm every inch of your body. By the time you finished the cup of coffee there was a knock on your door, and you knew it was the movers. You placed the empty mug down into the sink and then trampled over a few more lines of boxes before you could throw the door open.

There stood about three men, and one handed you something to sign, and you did. Almost immediately after handing them back the clipboard they came in and got to work. You watch in silence as they take load after load of the boxes around the room, and out the door to the van outside. Each trip makes your heart break a little more, because the room gets more and more empty as they go. He had a lot more possessions than you thought. It was making the apartment look sad and empty. Not like the home it once was.

They went room by room until they made it to the bedroom. All there was in the boxes was his clothes, every last one of them. With each mountain of boxes that left, you saw the last and final one, with your wedding album sticking out the very top one. At least he was taking that with him. Maybe . . . Maybe he would look at it and just remember what you two had.

You watched them load that stack onto a dolly and felt prompted to follow them out. Though they took the elevator and you went for the stairs, you nearly met face to face near the entrance to the building. You trailed after the men and noticed the rain that was pouring outside, and then one of them suddenly stopped in front of you.

“He told us to make sure you held onto this,” the man said, and before you knew it he was shoving the wedding album in your arms. You grabbed it quickly since the man was pushing the dolly out into the rain. Your feet only brought you as far as the threshold, and you leaned against the doorway and watched them quickly back up those last few boxes. You felt your hand shaking before you, and tightened your grip on the album in your arms, watching as they loaded themselves in and drove away with the last remnants of your marriage.

You listened to the patter on the rain on the street as it sunk in for you that that was it. He didn’t want to work on it, he just wanted out. And now he was out. Gone. And you were alone. You peeled yourself off the doorway and took a step back into the building, and closed the door shut. Closed yourself in from the world. With the wedding album in your hand, you walked back up the stairs and to your apartment, letting the door close behind you.

Oh god it was so empty. The walls looked stripped without the photos that once decorated them; you could see the shadows that were once there. The couch that was in the living room looked lonely without the armchair he took with him, but it was so . . . just so barren.

You looked at the time on the microwave. 10:05. God, not even a lot of time passed by. What were you going to do all day? You couldn’t stay here. That was definitely not the answer. You walked back to your room and snatched your phone from the bedside table and dialed the only number you knew by heart (besides his), and it rang a few times. But once you heard the voice on the other end you relaxed your shoulders.

“I was wondering when you were going to call,” Natasha’s voice rang in your ear. You smiled a bit, though you were actively fighting tears back. “Did they leave already?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Yeah they’re gone. Everythings gone.”

“Did he-”

“No,” you cut her off, already knowing her question. “No, he didn't come.”

“Bastard,” she mumbled, and you rubbed your hand on your pants, “Well, Wanda and I were meeting for brunch. Want to meet us?”

“God yes,” you pleaded, already up and grabbing a jacket to wear. “Cafeteria?”

“Always,” Natasha answered and said her goodbyes and you were out the door. As you were locking your apartment you spun around and hit a body.

“Geez, I’m sorry-” you trailed off as you were met with the stare from your neighbor, Sharon.

“No worries,” she moved around you with an awful amount of bags, and seemed to struggle with her keys.

“Do you need help . . .?” You asked and she sighed but nodded her head. You quickly hopped over and grabbed her keys from her fingers, and jimmied her door open, and she was in quicker than you could pull the keys out. As she set her groceries down, she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Thanks,” she said and walked back over to her door.

“Yeah no-” before you could finish her door shut in your face and you blinked a couple times, -problem.”

Sharon and you didn’t necessarily get along, but who really did with their neighbors? She was a lot better than the old tenants who left their garbage out in the hallway. So you couldn’t really complain, right? You didn’t ponder too much about it as you were headed down the stairs and into the rain.

Cafeteria was one of the more bustling restaurants to meet for brunch in Chelsea. Lucky for your girl group, you had another friend who managed it. Getting a taxi in the rain was probably the hardest part of your journey, ignoring your life crisis of course, and luckily you were into the building fast enough that you weren’t completely soaked. You looked over the brunch crowd before spotting your friends and made your way over. Wanda was the first to see you as she sipped away on her mimosa, but let out a hum when you got closer to signal to Natasha, who stood to hug you.

You all exchanged heys as you settled into your chair and pushed your damp jacket off your arms. Natasha leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, and watched you pensively.

“I’m surprised you aren’t weeping buckets of tears in your apartment right now,” Natasha said before leaning back in her chair and sipping on her drink. “Good for you though.”

“I’m so glad I can count on you for support, Nat,” you said, opting for water right now. You felt dehydrated with all the crying you’ve been doing recently . . . Last night . . . In the cab.

“He’s a sack of shit,” Nat said, earning a nod from Wanda. “I know you love him but holy fuck.”

“Nat,” you warned, but it only prompted her to set her drink down and move forward again, pointing at you and Wanda.

“No, don’t “Nat” me, okay. He is a sack of shit, and I can’t believe he’s doing this all because-”

“Nat,” you warned, a little more forceful this time. “Please. I know.”

She grumbled, sitting back in her chair like a pouting child. Wanada raised her brows, having been sipping on her drink during Natasha’s little tyraid.

“While I agree that he’s a sack of shit, I’m glad you came,” she said, placing a hand over yours. “It wouldn’t have been the same.”

“Thanks,” you managed with a forced smile.

“I should’ve known it was you three when they said I had friends needing a table,” Clint’s voice rang from behind. “Never come just to see me.”

Clint was the one running this joint for the last few years, and he was exceptionally good at it. He liked to brag about the fact that the service stayed “spectacular” even with the boost in numbers they were doing every week. Clint was the embodiment of a true business man, maybe that’s why him and Natasha got along so well. Even dressed for the part, he side hugged each woman at the table and saved you for last, engulfing you in his arms like he could protect you from everything in the world.

“Hey,” he murmured while placing a kiss on your head. You swatted him away and Clint chuckled, whacking you with the towel he had placed over his shoulder.

“This is technically coming to see you,” Natasha said, reaching for her menu. “But we might as well eat too while we’re at it.”

“Yeah whatever you freeloaders,” he joked, earning chuckles from everyone but you, the least you could offer was a smile. “Are we wanting our usuals?”

Each woman said yes and handed him their menu, and Clint was gone in a flash. Wanda and Natasha started talking about something you weren’t paying too much attention to, and your mind began to drift to the day your life started to fall to pieces.

Your marriage wasn’t horrible, in fact to you it had been perfect. You two never really fought, and it was as if the honeymoon phase never ended. He brought you flowers all the time, and when you were working he’d manage to sneak into your office and wrap his arms around you from behind. He always took great detail in the little things, and that’s why you were so fucking in love with him. And the sex? That was otherworldly too. He was otherworldly.

He got home a little late that night. Late enough to where you were already cooking dinner, and he came in fairly quietly. You remembered calling out to him but was only met with silence and the echo of his feet to the living room. The lack of response is what made you look over your shoulder at him and see him staring at a picture that was hung on the wall. A picture of the both of you. He held his tie in his fists and looked like he had seen a ghost.

That’s how he told you he had had an affair. In the middle of your home with you mid stir of the pot of food, he blurted it out so casually you could have missed it. Or well maybe not, not something that grand, that devastating.

“Here we go,” Clint’s voice brought you back to reality as he set food down in front of everyone.

Wanda sat up in her chair exceptionally giddy at the food before her, and Natasha had just finished her second mimosa. Clint told everyone to enjoy and was off again to do who knows what. The smell before you was deliciously pungent, and you realized you haven’t had a proper meal in days. Thank god for these people in your life.

“You zoned out there,” Natasha noted in between bitefuls. “You’re not thinking of him again, are you?”

“No, I’m thinking about how scary you look trying to fit all that in your mouth at once,” you joked. Natasha glared at you which only made you smile a bit. “I can’t help it Nat. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Wanda chimed in, motioning around her plate with her fork. “To remind you he’s a sack of shit.”

“Exactly,” Natasha pointed to her friend before looking back at you. “And to get you to come out and forget about all of it.”

She wagged her eyebrow at you and you shook your head. “I don’t think I’m in a partying mood right now.”

“Well when you’re ready, we’ll gladly take you out for a night on the town,” Wanda smiled. “Like the old days.”

Like the old days.

Wanda’s words stuck with you for the rest of the day. You weren’t sure if that’s what made you finally crack with the realization that not only were you about to be divorced, but a whole chapter of your life was pretty much thrown out the goddamn window. Eight years of your life to be exact. Your college years all had traces of him in your memories, then the year you got engaged, and then the three years of marriage. He was all you knew for nearly a decade now. Oh this was officially all fucked.

Another thing that was fucked? Your neighbor. Apparently.

Here you were trying to drown yourself in vodka and sleep, and your neighbor was getting fucked. Literally. Even with the amount of alcohol you consumed and the fact it made your head whirl wasn’t enough to block out the incessant banging next door. You were suddenly very aware of the fact her bedroom lined perfectly up with yours. Uncomfortably aware. You blinked at your ceiling wondering if this is how she felt when your husband and you--

No. You quickly deleted that thought from your mind. No more talk of him.

With that you pushed your blanket off and stumbled out of bed. Wow, you had more than you thought tonight, but the fact only made you giggle humorously. You haven’t been this tipsy since. . . Hm. You couldn’t even remember when. How funny!

You carefully threw on your thin robe, spinning in a circle as you tried to push your arm through the other hole. Once covered you exited your bedroom and walked down the hall to the closed door that led to the roof. You could definitely make it up those stairs. So you padded over to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of vodka you were working on earlier and went towards the door, stumbling over your feet only just a little.

This was one of the reasons you fell in love with this place. The access to the rooftop made your heart fill with something and your husband (should you call him that anymore?) could not talk you out of it. He said, and you quote this very accurately, “Anything for you.”

Haha! What a sack of shit. Just like Nat said.

You pushed the heavy metal door open and were met with the cool evening breeze. The chill sobered you up a bit for you to see the scene before you. As the heavy door shut behind you, you looked over the candles that were still burning and the food left out near your neighbor, Sharon’s, skylight entry. Hm, so that’s what all her groceries were for. Eh, whatever. You practically stumbled over to one of the patio sets and crawled on to an egg like daybed and settled in against the cushions. With your back against the cover you pulled out your phone from the pocket of your robe (thank you sober Y/N) and scrolled through your music.

You hummed and pushed play on one song and tossed the phone beside you, letting the piano melody and horns float through the air. You closed your eyes when the voice started to sing low to you. Just to you.

There’s no sunshine

This impossible year

Only black days, and sky grey

And clouds full of fear, and storms full of sorrow

That won’t disappear

Just typhoons and monsoons this impossible year

There’s no good times, this impossible year

Just a beachfront of bad blood

And a coast that’s unclear

All the guests at the party, they’re so insincere

They just intrude and extrude

This impossible year

There’s no you and me

This impossible year

Only heartache and heartbreak

And gin made of tears

The bitter pill I swallow

The scars souvenir

That tattoo, your last bruise

This impossible year

There’s never air to breathe, there’s never in-betweens

These nightmares always hang on past the dream

There’s no sunshine..

There’s no you and me..

There’s no good times..

This impossible year

You took another hard hit of the bottle and shook your head at the end of the song. The tears that had fallen you were quick to wipe away when the song changed to something more upbeat, but you couldn’t pay attention to the lyrics. Not anymore. There was a sound behind you, it sounded like glass had broken and you blinked to re-evaluate where you were. It didn’t come from the street below, so you carefully crawled to peer around the dome covering your spot, and your eyes landed on a casually dressed man. Definitely not familiar. It looked like he had picked up something from whatever your neighbor had left out, and then he looked up and noticed you.

You met his eyes only for a second before you retreated back under the dome and nestled the bottle of vodka in your lap. You tried to focus on the music playing through your tiny speakers and ignore the approaching footsteps. But- oh god his form came into view. He walked past your place but glanced you over, and then looked over the edge to the street.

“You aren’t planning on jumping, are you?” He asked.

You scoffed, “Nope.”

He turned around and leaned back against the siding of the roof, motioning to the bottle in your hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“None of your business, that’s what,” you practically slurred and took another sip of the alcohol. You didn’t even grimace at the taste before motioning to him with the half full bottle. “Who’re you?”

He watched you in amusement, a smile gracing his face as he took a step off the wall. “I’m Steve. Who’re you?”

“Are you Sharon’s boyfriend?” You asked instead. He was noticeably defensive, throwing his hands up.

“No no no. Nothing like that.” He motioned for a spot near the edge. “Can I join you?”

“Okay, Steve.” You shrugged. Steve took a seat on the edge of the cushions, relaxing his arms on his legs. He watched as you stared blankly at the next building, and took another swig from the bottle.

“Are you the neighbor Sharon was telling me about?” He asked nonchalantly. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips.

“Oh that’s rich,” you mumbled and shrugged your shoulders. “Guess that’s me.”

“Did you move in recently?” He asked next and you blinked a couple times.

“Wha?”

“When she brought me up, I saw some empty moving boxes outside your door for grabs,” Steve explained and your gaze went back out to the sky. “Figured you must be new here. I just moved from-”

“I’m not new,” you blurted out, and Steve raised a brow at you. “No, no. I’ve been here two years? Maybe? I dunno.”

Steve slowly nodded and you took another sip from the bottle he could assume held vodka in it. “Well then whoever left those out-”

“My husband moved out today,” you mumbled. Steve’s mouth fell closed and watched as you smiled a bit to yourself and swished your bottle around. “Er, well he hasn’t lived here in a month. His stuff moved out today.”

Steve nodded a bit before motioning to the bottle in your hands. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Well,” you laughed a bit to yourself. “Maybe 90% him. 10% you guys keeping me up.”

Steve laughed this time. It was low and hearty, but it shook your position on the cushions. You blinked a bit as your vision struggled to level out. That’s when you saw him move closer and you straightened up a bit when his large hands grabbed the bottle and cap from your hands.

“Alright crazy let’s put the bottle down for a second,” he said, screwing the cap back on. You whimpered a bit reaching back for your bottle and he turned his back to you to close the cap full and put the bottle somewhere out of your reach.

“Hey that’s mine,” you said and Steve turned back to you, grabbing your hands and putting them to your side.

“Yeah I know angel,” he said and you chuckled.

“Angel,” you laughed again. “What the fuck is that?”

“Well you never shared your name,” Steve said as he forced you to sit back against the cushions once more. “So what should I call you?”

You pondered his question. “Mmm . . . (Y/N).”

You offered your hand for him and Steve glanced between you and your hand. You wiggled your fingers a bit at him and he laughed again before taking your hand in his and shaking it, though you felt like your whole arm shook with it.

“You’re drunk (Y/N),” he said while shaking your hand. Once he finally released your hand you sighed, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“I know,” you said and then shrugged your shoulders at him. “I wanted to be.”

Steve nodded. “Y’know a buddy of mine is going through a divorce-”

“Did he want it?” You asked him shortly.

“Well yeah-” Steve started and your face fell.

“I didn’t.”

It was a short and simple statement. The silence that filled the air was awkward and heavy, but Steve rubbed his hands together and nodded his head like he was actually curious to hear you speak.

“Were there problems?”

“I didn’t think so.” You scooted up to the edge and rested your hand on the cushion to steady yourself. “We never fought. He acted like he was completely devoted to me! He was perfect. We were perfect.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, “Was he being fulfilled-”

“Sex was not a problem,” you cut him off, and ignored the glance of his eyes over you. “We had sex everyday-”

“Everyday?” Steve exclaimed and you nodded your head furiously at him.

“Oh yeah. More than once a day,” you confirmed.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled, one of his hands on his knee and his close hand rested over yours. “What a fucking loser, then.”

“Sack of shit,” you corrected. “We call him a sack of shit.”

Steve threw his arms up in defense. “My bad. What a fucking sack of shit then.”

You both laughed a bit and when silence enveloped you again you took Steve’s appearance in. This stranger was fairly attractive, you couldn’t argue that. He was tall and built like a perfect man. Even his beard looked perfect. You were suddenly reminded of the sounds you heard from your neighbor’s room and his attractiveness went right out the window, as you shot up from your place and swayed a bit. Too fast, too furious. Steve was up and steadied you with his hands on your waist.

“Careful there, angel,” he warned as you regained your composure.

“(Y/N),” you reminded him. Steve smiled and removed his hands from your waist.

“I know,” he said with the same smile on his face. You studied him for a moment before you shook your head and patted his chest.

“Goodbye, Steve,” you said. You stepped around him and made your way back to the door to your apartment. Your hand went to tug on it when Steve spoke again, from the same spot.

“I’ll see you around, angel,” he said. You pulled your door open and looked at him, standing by the patio daybed with a wicked smile on his face. You squinted a bit and finally descended down your private stairs, letting the rooftop door close on Steve and your night.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #captain america #captain america fic #modern au steve #steve rogers fic

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boreothegoldfinch · 3 years

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chapter 12 paragraph viii

Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight towards a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out. A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help. Though my engagement isn’t off, not officially anyway, I’ve been given to understand—gracefully, in the lighter-than-air manner of the Barbours—that no one is holding me to anything. Which is perfect. Nothing’s been said and nothing is said. When I’m invited for dinner (as I am, often, when I’m in town) it’s all very pleasant and light, voluble even, intimate and subtle while not at all personal; I’m treated like a family member (almost), welcome to turn up when I want; I’ve been able to coax Mrs. Barbour out of the apartment a bit, we’ve had some pleasant afternoons out, lunch at the Pierre and an auction or two; and Toddy, without being impolitic in the least, has even managed to let casually and almost accidentally drop the name of a very good doctor, with no suggestion whatever that I might possibly need such a thing.

[As for Pippa: though she took the Oz book, she left the necklace, along with a letter I opened so eagerly I literally ripped through the envelope and tore it in half. The gist—once I got on my knees and fit the pieces together— was this: she’d loved seeing me, our time in the city had meant a lot to her, who in the world could have picked such a beautiful necklace for her? it was perfect, more than perfect, only she couldn’t accept it, it was much too much, she was sorry, and—maybe she was speaking out of turn, and if so she hoped I forgave her, but I shouldn’t think she didn’t love me back, because she did, she did. (You do? I thought, bewildered.) Only it was complicated, she wasn’t thinking only of herself but me too, since we’d both been through so many of the same things, she and I, and we were an awful lot alike—too much. And because we’d both been hurt so badly, so early on, in violent and irremediable ways that most people didn’t, and couldn’t, understand, wasn’t it a bit… precarious? A matter of self-preservation? Two rickety and death-driven persons who would need to lean on each other quite so much? not to say she wasn’t doing well at the moment, because she was, but all that could change in a flash with either of us, couldn’t it? the reversal, the sharp downward slide, and wasn’t that the danger? since our flaws and weaknesses were so much the same, and one of us could bring the other down way too quick? and though this was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what she was getting at. (Dumb of me not to have seen it earlier, after all the injuries, the crushed leg, the multiple surgeries; adorable drag in the voice, adorable drag in the step, the arm-hugging and the pallor, the scarves and sweaters and multiple layers of clothes, slow drowsy smile: she herself, the dreamy childhood her, was sublimity and disaster, the morphine lollipop I’d chased for all those years.)

But, as the reader of this will have ascertained (if there ever is a reader) the idea of being Dragged Down holds no terror for me. Not that I care to drag anyone else down with me, but—can’t I change? Can’t I be the strong one? Why not?] [You can have either of those girls you want, said Boris, sitting on the sofa with me in his loft in Antwerp, cracking pistachios between his rear molars as we were watching Kill Bill. No, I can’t. And why can’t you? I’d pick Snowflake myself. But if you want the other, why not? Because she has a boyfriend? So? said Boris. Who lives with her? So? And here’s what I’m thinking too: So? What if I go to London? So? And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.] [That little guy, said Boris in the car on the way to Antwerp. You know the painter saw him—he wasn’t painting that bird from his mind, you know? That’s a real little guy, chained up on the wall, there. If I saw him mixed up with dozen other birds all the same kind, I could pick him out, no problem.] And he’s right. So could I. And if I could go back in time I’d clip the chain in a heartbeat and never care a minute that the picture was never painted. To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I only see a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there. [Do you ever think about quitting? I asked, during the boring part of It’s a Wonderful Life, the moonlight walk with Donna Reed, when I was in Antwerp watching Boris with spoon and water from an eyedropper, mixing himself what he called a “pop.” Give me a break! My arm hurts! He’d already shown me the bloody skid mark—black at the edges—cutting deep into his bicep. You get shot at Christmas and see if you want to sit around swallowing aspirin! Yeah, but you’re crazy to do it like that. Well—believe it or not—for me not so much a problem. I only do it special occasions. I’ve heard that before. Well, is true! Still a chipper, for now. I’ve known of people chipped three-four years and been ok, long as they kept it down to two-three times a month? That said, Boris added somberly—blue movie light glinting off the teaspoon —I am alcoholic. Damage is done, there. I’m a drunk till I die. If anything kills me—nodding at the Russian Standard bottle on the coffee table—that’ll be it. Say you never shot before? Believe me, I had problems enough the other way. Well, big stigma and fear, I understand. Me—honest, I prefer to sniff most times—clubs, restaurants, out and about, quicker and easier just to duck in men’s room and do a quick bump. This way—always you crave it. On my death bed I will crave it. Better never to pick it up. Although—really very irritating to see some bone head sitting there smoking out of a crack pipe and make some pronouncement about how dirty and unsafe, they would never use a needle, you know? Like they are so much more sensible than you? Why did you start? Why does anyone? My girl left me! Girl at the time. Wanted to be all bad and self-destructive, hah. Got my wish. Jimmy Stewart in his varsity sweater. Silvery moon, quavery voices. Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight. So, why not stop then? I said. Why should I? Do I really have to say why? Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it? If you can stop, why wouldn’t you? Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.]

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are. (One thing I’ll have to say for my dad: at least he tried to want the sensible thing—my mother, the briefcase, me—before he completely went berserk and ran away from it.) And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky—so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.

And that’s why I’ve chosen to write these pages as I’ve written them. For only by stepping into the middle zone, the polychrome edge between truth and untruth, is it tolerable to be here and writing this at all. Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair. But the painting has also taught me that we can speak to each other across time. And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life—whatever else it is—is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.

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ljgfyusd · 3 years

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This plan got quite far

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monkey-network · 4 years

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The Glory of No More Heroes

Who would’ve thought a Wii game by Suda 51 would be the best slap in the face. Let’s not beat around the bush, No More Heroes throws you right in. When Travis says, “It’s Game Time”, he means it. The swinging of the light saber, the splatters of blood, the essence of this badass looking weeb fills me with joy every time I play. NMH is a game I cherish and I wanted to express why.

The Touchdown

Honestly when I think of a realistic take on an anime anti-hero, I immediately think Travis Touchdown. He’s basically Saitama from One Punch Man except not invincible, considerate, bald. He doesn’t have a luxurious status compared to everyone he meets and he’s fine with that. Then again, they both have this subconscious pride in either looking for a challenge or, for Travis, becoming #1. Then again, where Saitama’s story is about understanding the humility of being a hero, Travis’s story is more macabre with how far you’re willing to go with your aspirations.

Travis isn’t facing any bad guys that are out to take over something like the city or whatever. They’re cantankerous mercenaries where the job of assassin has driven them to the deep end. Travis goes down the same path, the garden of madness, but in a different light; he at first gets a kick out of facing his enemies like its a movie where he’ll get the girl at the end, but soon enough empathizes with the idea that not everyone feel the same way and everyone has their own goals in this gig.

Beyond the finale, he doesn’t really possess a chip on his shoulder in the first game and that clashes with everyone that’s been through a lot. The game does a great job veiling the haunting spiral Travis goes through by making his attitude towards it all eclipse the harsh reality of his journey. He’s becoming a remorseless killer, but that never gets in the way of the thrill you and Travis gets when slashing down some dudes or talking shit.

At the same time, he’s not a complete asshole in spite of how sees this game. This is generally where we have to talk about...

The Ranked Fights

Every assassin in NMH is memorably unique, some more than others but they nonetheless capture the point of the game, without ‘em this would’ve been a standard beat ‘em up all things considered. With the exclusion of one, the assassins aren’t as enthused with their job as Travis is and even that excluded one, Destroyman, takes it to a level far beyond Travis’s likeness. That is the thing, all of them are Travis yet taken to differing yet equally extreme turns as assassins. For Letz Shake and Dr. Peace, it’s a euphoric calling. For Shinobu, it’s about the honor of the fight. For Bad Girl and Holly Summers, it’s all they think they have for a life. Each believing that being an assassin was their exit to something better but, aside Shinobu who was spared, had their fate sealed until Travis showed up. It’s kinda how Batman internalizes his “No Kill Rule”, you kill one and you’re potentially going to continue until someone stops you. And really, you probably appreciate every one of them. A couple fall by the wayside personality wise, but most the assassins has their moment before and/or after that makes fighting them feel gratifying. It’s almost impossible to hate them and they each subconsciously welcome you to give it your all.

This helps makes Travis a great protagonist. Moments like when he holds the mic for the defeated Dr. Peace, when he spares Shinobu, especially when he feels remorse for not killing Holly himself are what shows the true man in him, the growing protagonist. He tends to be cocksure, but isn’t a full on scumbag to everyone and is never rewarded for his shitty moments. Travis has an ego, literally rising in the ranks, but he doesn’t consider himself so above the people he fights. He’s kinda the hero in a way of giving each assassin a humble end, a sense of satisfaction that comes with the 1v1 challenge. Travis doesn’t cheats his way to the top and the assassins aren’t stripped of their humanity regardless of the downward spiral that came with the job.

He is no hero and the people you fight aren’t either hence the title, but at the end of the day, as badass as everyone is, everyone is human wanting that paradise. But, with that want comes...

The Work

I often think of No More Heroes as a balanced Male Power Fantasy. DMC5 and Bayonetta are ones where while the action is earnest and the cutscenes are spectacle gold, the joy lacks in everything else. NMH fixes that by making exploration genuinely fun to do. The jobs, the challenges, the training, the clothing you’re able to get, all pay just as well in investment as getting to the main event. I seriously get in the zone when I finally maxed out my combos, got the final beam katana, and get to the timed challenges where I’m slaying as fast as possible. The previous two I mentioned are already badass in their own right and it’s mostly up to you, the player, to make them dance with your gameplay. But I say NMH takes that extra step, while having simpler controls, to where it’s not just your gameplay that makes you feel epic, but taking your time to gradually make that epicness come to fruition not just with earning money but doing the odd jobs and exploring the city.

Santa Destroy feels like more of a character and you feel better integrated in that world than you admittedly do in most hack and slash games. It also helps that getting to the next ranked fight isn’t as frustrating in the grind. There are a couple stinker jobs and assassin gigs but they all pay well that beyond getting to the first event with Dr. Peace, earning money never felt like an insufferable chore. Once again, this plays well into Travis as a character. He’s not immediately given immense power locked away inside him; he earns it all. You train him, you collect those balls for the special moves, you earn money for those beam katanas, he’s strong enough to suplex and pile drive people effortlessly, but you know he’s capable of becoming better. The only thing you generally got no charge is the motorbike which honestly is the sweetest damn thing in the game. It adds up to a character that, in a typical modern environment, you make happen.

The Beauty

I say the genius of No More Heroes is its portrayal of everything. You’re not the chosen one destined for greatness, you’re an average anime lover that got his fighting skills from VHS tapes and won a weapon from eBay. You’re not fighting in grandiose locations but everyday buildings like a school, parking lot, the beach, train station, warehouse, etc. And again, you’re not fighting chaotic supernatural enemies but people with lives that just happen to love killing people. NMH makes a playground out of the mundane without making it cynical or boring; honestly reminiscent of home movies where you’d have epic battles take place in the backyard or mall lot but given that legit bloody action flare of video games. With the humor and music being the jimmies and cherry on top.

This is why 1 works far better than the sequel but that’s for another time.

Suda overall sets you in an believable environment to go nuts in but doesn’t sucker punch you when shit gets real. He gives you exactly what you crave but doesn’t make you out to be an emotionless killing machine. The synergy between the player and Travis is what makes NMH great, potentially underrated, and it never shames you for enjoying it. Even when there are no more heroes on every front,

You still feel like one in the end

The Conclusion

So yeah, I love this game. It’s one where I’m just into playing it in one sitting and as I grew up, came to appreciate more than before. It isn’t the most complex unless you really dive into Suda51′s “Kill the Past” lore but doesn’t need to be. Like I said before, compared to most big titles nowadays, this one jumps right in and whether you find it deep it or not, it’s all compelling. It’s up there as a favorite with Great Teacher Onizuka where it’s an underrated celebration of the no shits given badass counter part of pop culture while having some meaningfulness in what it actually says. I’m glad I got into this game series.

#No more heroes #NMH #travis touchdown #Suda 51 #grasshopper manufacture #video games #analysis #Good Stuff #long post

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

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I don’t need you Chapter 2 : Freaking super hero

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. A tiny hint of jealous Dean.

Words : 3k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

__________________________

2. FREAKING SUPER HERO

Dean’s Pov

All the lights. This apartment is big, and its windows are too. I look at the regular shadows of the metallic lines of the windows that divide her bedroom door into bended squares.

She offered us to stay at her place, opened the sofa bed, and disappeared behind that door. I just can’t sleep, again. I try to imagine I’m in my bedroom in the bunker, or on Baby’s backseat, but everything is so new to me here. I lost my bearings.

I stare around, my eyes wide open, now used to the weak darkness. Is it possible that she’s just better than us ? Like more up-to-date, trained by the cruelty of huge cities ? How can she do this alone ?

The walls are covered in those research papers, and, after a while, in the middle of this organized mess, my own name catches my eyes.

I get up in silence, trying not to make the mattress move too much, to let my brother sleep. Is it California that made him so insensible to lights and noises at night ? Maybe…

“Dean Winchester is a demon.” I frown, it’s a printing of a mail she got from someone called thathunter87, she hung it here and made a red line between that and a stolen page of a grimoire about demon cure. Why ?

On the table under all those articles and notes on the wall, a long desk, covered in books, notebooks and folders. It’s like she had hundreds of hunter journals, one for each subject.

Discreetly going through them, I find one called “Winchesters” and a shiver runs down my spine but the thought attached to it never reaches my brain. I open it. There are no photos, just mails from thathunter87 and pages of those Supernatural stupid books.

My eyes widen suddenly, and my heart misses a beat. Next to pieces of the books and a sketch of our anti-possession tattoo scribbled like she was thinking hard, a few words : Was John abusive to Dean ?

“Trouble sleeping ?” a whisper makes me jump.

I turn and my breath gets caught in my throat.

She’s standing in the door frame, an oversized Hocus Pocus t-shirt hiding her upper thighs, and nothing covering her legs.

She looks so different now. Almost… cute. Her worn out t-shirt falling childishly like thin drape on her body, her face freed from any makeup and her hair going in every directions. I can’t help but imagine a morning after…

She walks to me, pushing her messy hair out of her face. And I’m so caught up in this vision that I forget to hide what I was looking at.

“Oh… I’m sorry” she murmurs, taking the notebook out of my hands. “I know it’s not my business.”

I have no idea what to answer despite the thousands questions flying in my skull, and just keep searching her face, loudly cursing at myself in my head.

“How do you know us ?” I finally say low, my pupils dilating at the ray of the night light hitting her collarbone and I try to fight the electric feeling giving me goosebumps.

“Well, the Supernatural books saved my life” her whisper feels like her nails were grazing my back.

“How ?” I dare, my curiosity getting the best of me.

She chuckles but a shadow crosses her face, a shadow of fear and pain, something weak and lonely, everything she usually hides so well.

“Dark days… I… I lived in the street a long time ago” she looks down. “I needed to believe in heroes I guess.”

Her smile is soft and kind for a second, making me almost believe I could take her in my arms, like an old friend, like a lover. But she sighs, and it’s like she had breathe out everything soft, her eyes become stern and her neck straighten.

“Jimmy doesn’t whine too much ?” she asks, pointing at the laundry room with her chin.

“Not a sound” I assure her, and she smiles dangerously.

“I threatened him a lot.”

Reader’s Pov

I walk to the laundry and open the door.

“Ah good you’re there” Jimmy starts right away, making the chair creak. “I-…”

But I cut him.

“One more word and you will regret it, Jimmy. Remember what I said : If my guests sleep bad because of you, I cut your cock, to see if it grows back on an immortal.”

I close the door and give Dean a little corner smile.

Sam grunts and turn in the sofa, taking all the cover with him. I chuckle and take a glass of water from the kitchen sink.

“Sleep, Dean, tomorrow will be a long day” I murmur walking back to my room, hoping my own thoughts will stop harassing me.

*******

I get up and grab my clothes, lazily walking to the bathroom. On my way to it, my eyes glance at the brothers on my sofa, Dean is still not sleeping.

He looks at me in silence, his piercing eyes following me when I cross the room, but I don’t say a word to him. I know he’s familiar with nightmares, he would hear it in my voice.

Having them here somehow brought bad memories. It’s a paradox : They saved me from very bad moments in my life, but meeting them makes me think a lot about those dark times, and since I know they’re in town, my own demons are screaming at me. Or maybe knowing I will see Holloway tonight…

I enter the bathroom and put my clothes on the chair next to the shower. I have to be prepared. In the shower I repeat my plan in my head. I have nothing left to lose, so nothing can end worse than it already is. If I feed, if I become a vampire, I know the Winchesters will end me, and I would finally die peacefully, knowing at least I tried. If I miss Holloway, I will have him next time… If I just die, well it will be over, at last.

Sam and Dean will try to talk me out of it, I know that, and I’ll have to be very firm, because they can’t make that mission fail. There was a time when I needed heroes, now I don’t.

The shower turns cold again, ripping me out of my thoughts, I grunt and rinse quickly under the familiar freezing jet.

Naked, I look at the mirror, using the sight of my scars to focus my anger. This is the cut they made on me to taste my blood, after they killed my family… my finger graze the little straight scar on my arm ; this one is the knife cut I got from that rape attempt when I was in the streets. This is fangs, I hate this one.

Then the transformation starts.

Like every day, I put on my mask : The outfit I use to remember who I am, and to forget who I was.

I feel like putting on an armor the second I start to draw my eye-liner cat’s eye line. And by the time I tighten the ribbons of my corset hard, nothing in me is vulnerable anymore. My back is straight and held, my eyes are dark…

I’m going to kill them all.

Dean’s Pov

She comes out of the bathroom, dressed like that warrior she is, tough and sexy, transformed, unrecognizable, like a freaking super hero.

But I will never forget the cute girl I saw last night.

“I have coffee” she says when Sam sits up, looking around like he was wondering for a second where he was. “And I can make eggs, I don’t want my side kicks to be hungry.”

Her voice sounds slightly different on the word “hungry” and, knowing she lived in the street, I guess she knows what truly hungry is…

I nod and Sam thank her but she’s already in the kitchen. I get up, joining her behind the counter to help her with anything she would need. The truth is, I just want to be around.

I notice a man big jacket on a chair and wonder who she could invite here, despite hunters. Is she really alone ? Does she have friends ? Lovers ?...

“I have no sugar” she states sternly.

And once again, I’m mute, taking the mug she hands me to break eggs in an old pan.

Suddenly, the walls tremble and the power goes off, the only light she had turn on going off, and the few device she has dying. She sighs but keeps cooking on her gas stove like it was nothing.

“Your stomach is noisy” she chuckles.

“Sorry” I mumble, making her raise an eyebrow.

She puts the plates on her coffee table with two cups of coffee, going back to the kitchen to take a mug for herself. Only two plates.

“You don’t eat ?” Sam asks.

“I don’t like eggs” she shrugs. “And I have nothing else, I’ll buy something later.”

“I can go to buy you something” I state, really uncomfortable with her not eating with us.

“Eat, Dean. I can handle myself.”

A knock on the door makes Sam and I frown.

Keeping her coffee cup in her hand, she grabs her gun, puts it in her belt in her back, and walks to the door. Sam and I get up, even if we can’t see the main door from here, we’re ready to fight.

“Hey Y/n. Was it the Winchesters ?” a man voice greets her.

Y/n…

“Yeah. There are no more eggs, I gave them the ones you bought” she answers.

“You feed them now ?” the man mocks. “I bought you a chocolate muffin.”

Why does that annoys me ?

She appears in the room again, followed by this guy, Joe, the bartender. He’s a very tall –Sammy tall- strong guy with long blond hair in a bun. Freaking hipster.

When he sees us, he frowns, and look at her like she was insane.

“What are they doing here ?” he asks, making my brother raise his eyebrows at his rudeness. “Wait, Y/n, did they sleep here ?”

“I invited them” she shrugs, sitting to unwrap her chocolate muffin. “Sam, Dean, this is Joe. Joe, bla bla.”

I can’t help smiling at her attitude, but Joe doesn’t. It’s like he didn’t want us to be here, like he was threatened by us somehow… And it suddenly hits me. The chocolate muffin, the things he “forgets” at her place, the worry.

He’s in love with her.

“I have to buy a few things for tonight” she states, ripping a little part of the muffin between her fingers, to slip it between her lips, licking her index a little when chocolate stick on her skin.

“Do you want me to come with you ?” Joe immediately says and I have to blink to not roll my eyes.

“No” she states, then she turns to Sam. “You already made the cure for your brother, I heard.”

“Y-yeah” Sam hesitates. “But are you sure…”

“Then” she cuts him. “Could you prepare it while I’m out ? I already have all the ingredients… And Jimmy.”

“What are you talking about Y/n ? You’re not doing it ? Tell me you’re not doing it.” Joe asks, looking around and she sighs, getting up.

“Okay listen” she states. “All of you. If you have something to say about my plan, you can walk out the door now. I can do this alone. I don’t need you.”

She puts the rest of the muffin in Joe’s hands and take her coat.

“I’ll be here in a few hours, don’t kill Jimmy accidentally with day light, and don’t, well… I don’t know, be stupid. Sam, the ingredients are on the sill, and if you don’t want to do the cure, just… Okay” she says before she leaves, a silence falling on us.

*******

I don’t like Joe, the guy stayed with us for no reason, like he wanted to survey us.

Sam is looking in the box, trying to find a bowl to mix them. And the bartender and I are left practically staring at each other.

“Did you guys convinced her it was a good idea ?” he finally speaks.

“What do you mean ?” I grunt. “Of course not ! This is a terrible idea. I should go, not her.”

Sam lifts his head form the bowl and looks at me with a disapproving frown.

“She will kill you” Joe chuckles darkly. “You have no idea how bad she needs to get them, you have no idea what she’s been through.”

“Well, I won’t let her get killed by those freaks” I state.

“Dean…” my brother speaks. “She knows them way better than we do, this is her plan, her hunt. I think she knows what she’s doing, and you’ve seen her… She’s a great hunter.”

I sit down, sighing, rubbing my face with both hands. Am I supposed to stay there, watching her run to her death ?

Reader’s Pov

I take another sip of whiskey, letting the smooth notes of blues wrap me in the comfortable atmosphere of the small bar. I knew Joe would stay with them, and looking behind the bar, I give his colleague a little smile.

I sigh with the little bottle in my hand, making the thick poisonous liquid redden the sides of the glass.

I can’t go back to my apartment. They must already be making plans to force me to stay home. I know them. In a way I Know the three of them.

Joe is my friend, and I know he thinks we should be more than that, those ideas of “saving” me spoiling his mind for years, like I was some kind of precious bird with broken wings.

I am not.

I’m not broken or damaged. I’m just furious, a storm of rage boiling in my veins. And he can keep his fairy tales for him. Unconditional love is not going to save me. I told him that, and refusing any kind of proximity with him, I think I made it very clear. But he will always try to save me.

And the Winchesters… They are heroes. Self-sacrifice is burned in their genes. They are as determined to protect everyone they meet, as I am to kill Holloway.

The early winter night is announcing its rise with a pink ink in the city sky. I finish my glass and take my phone.

Did Sam prepare the cure ? I send to Joe.

I get up and walk to the bathroom to check my look on the mirror. Arranging my hair, I practice my smile. It has to be innocent, charming and seductive.

He did. We have to ad Jimmy’s blood but only once you’re turned. Oh God, please don’t do that. Why didn’t you come back ? Where are you ? The night is almost there, and the Winchesters are sneaky. I stayed with them to make sure they don’t rummage through your stuff, but they’re asking questions. Why did you let them stay at your apartment in the first place ? Joe answers in four messages in a row.

Because I don’t really care.

I put money on the counter and greet the woman behind it, getting out.

Dead man’s blood capsules in my purse, my vampire killing knife in my boot, another thin slightly longer blade in back along my spine. The magical burning oil in its little flask. That’s all I can take with me. I stuff my purse with lipsticks, random keys, foundation powder and other useless things, in case someone looked into it.

I will drop my guns and other weapons in the trash cans outside the club. I already spent two hours looking at it to be prepared. I know every entrances.

It’s time.

I walk to the alley I slept in so many nights. I don’t know why I chose to do it here, probably because I so often thought I would die here. It’s smaller than I remember, darker too.

On the wall, the drawing I had made, the anti-possession tattoo my heroes wore in their skin. I was sure it would protect me from my own demons, I was so sure it would. I used to put my hand on it when hunger made me so weak I couldn’t stand, when cold was biting my skin ; and when despair was beating me up, telling myself it would make me go through the night.

At least I thought it helped. The truth is, I was alone, and I was the only one fighting all this, the only one that could help me.

I put my finger on it.

“I met the Winchesters” I whisper to the girl I was, to the childhood that died here, wishing I could hear that in the past. “They’re even more handsome than you thought” I half smile, fighting the tears. “But they are not going to save you. You are. It ends tonight.”

Taking the little bottle in my hand, I close my eyes for a second. I hate vampires. I have to focus on that, I have to be strong, and merciless.

If I become a vampire for good. They have to kill me. I send Joe.

Then I open the flask and drink it in one go.

Dean’s Pov

“She answered !” Joe exclaims, getting up to read her long-awaited text.

When he frowns, my heart starts to beat faster. She never came back and now night is here. I’m going nuts, I can’t just stay on this stupid couch.

“She…” the bartender says, but he doesn’t finish, just showing us the text.

Sam runs to the laundry door and opens it.

“Did she take your blood ?” he almost yells and my pupils dilate.

When the vampire chuckles darkly, Sam turns to us.

�� She’s already gone.

________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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frumfrumfroo · 4 years

Note

What are your favorite movies and TV shows outside of SW? I’m looking for new things to watch since SW was so disappointing

My tastes are pretty eclectic, so I will stick to just things that are either similar to sw or are in the reylo-esque romance wheelhouse and have happy endings:

Chuck. It is a goofy, light-hearted action-adventure show with extremely endearing characters and a very prominent central romance (seriously, heavy romance and there is a lot of payoff for it, you will be FED- it's kind of slow burn but also shockingly NOT slow burn, they are deep into it pretty much immediately). The main couple is the classic Stoic Badass gradually softened by an innocent they have to protect who is a liability in battle but full of the Power of Heart. Chuck is The Heart btw. He is of that vanishingly rare male Beauty (of B&tB) type. He's incredibly generous and open, Sarah is prickly and closed-off. It is Quality. Very much a gender-swap of your typical cliche anime couple lol. I would recommend stopping at the mid-season finale in season 4, because it's downhill from there. The beginning of season 3 is very rough, but it's definitely worth it to stay for the back half, imo. There are several great endings to choose from before things go to shit, so we don't need to talk about the finale. Probably the most tonally similar to SW thing possible without being high/space fantasy. More humour, more silly, but definitely has a spiritual kinship. Has the best THE BEST 'secret revealed' scenes I have ever seen in anything. If you're into that and were hoping for that in ep IX, you need to watch Chuck.

The Shop Around the Corner. 1940 romance/drama film. You've Got Mail is a remake of it. Jimmy Stewart being profoundly adorable, Frank Morgan (aka the Wizard of Oz), various amusing side characters, and an absolutely deathless double blind 'secretly in love with the workplace nemesis' plot that can and probably has been a great reylo AU.

Mirromask. Fantasy/coming-of-age film. Touted as a 'spiritual successor' to Labyrinth by the filmmakers (one of whom is Neil Gaiman) and let me tell you, that is extremely apt. Beautiful, magical, laden with symbolism and Mask Discourse, and has a great ship. I quote it regularly.

Speaking of which, I'm sure you've seen Labyrinth? If you haven't seen Labyrinth, drop everything and watch Labyrinth.

Legend (the Ridley Scott director's cut, not the theatrical cut). Sumptuous fairy tale, runs on proper fairy tale logic, stunning to look at and overall captivating. Tim Curry. Tim Curry as a lonely tragic lord of darkness who tries to seduce the heroine and has drippingly overwrought monologues.

Howl's Moving Castle. Fairy tale adventure/romance film. Beautifully animated, has the ending you want.

The Silence of the Lambs. Thriller/drama film. Actual masterpiece. Use it as a gateway drug to read the books and rejoice that Clannibal is canon and it is spectacular. Just SotL and Hannibal, you don't need to read the other two. Stan Clarice Starling and revel in that ending. Most triumphant 'villain'/heroine ship of all time (he is not technically a villain but for shorthand's sake).

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Terry Gilliam 1988 fantasy/adventure film. THE TRIUMPH OF IDEALISM OVER CYNICS I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW HEALING IT WAS TO WATCH AFTER THE TROS BULLSHIT HIT. Jonathan Pryce's spiritual villain is basically Chris Terrio and it is cathartic to see imagination and sentiment conquer him.

Sabrina. 1995 romance film. Modern fairy tale with Harrison Ford. Rejecting what you thought you wanted all your life for the thing you actually need, growing up but still believing in magic, beautiful character development across all the leads. Could be (and is irrc) a fantastic reylo AU.

The Scarlet Pimpernel. 1934 adventure film. High romance, secret identities, play-acting, people who aren't at all what they appear to be, falling in love with your own spouse, Big Heroism, guile and wit and audacity. It makes me do little kicks like a happy baby. This is one of the 3-5 films constantly tied for my favourite film of all time. There is a good quality rip free on youtube. Watch it and fall in love with Leslie Howard (this is possibly my favourite acting performance of all time).

Oh, related note. Pygmalion 1938 or My Fair Lady. (The musical is based on this film and borrows from it heavily, including its much more romantic ending compared to the original play.)

The Mummy. 1999 action/adventure/romance film. Very tonally similar to sw. A fucking great time, A+ characters.

EVER AFTER. 1998 romance film. The flawless and perfect and best ever Cinderella adaptation. This is the most satisfying film in history, maybe, the ending is so good it is amazing it exists. Also, it has Richard O'Brien being slimy. Huge selling point. Grapples with identity and stewardship, is brilliant.

Fruits Basket. drama/romance anime. I haven't watched the new version yet, but it's following the manga so I know the story. The original anime didn't do the whole plot (because they caught up with the source material) but it's wonderful and I still recommend it. The central ship is (spoiler.........) a B&tB type where we eventually discover the main love interest both feels like a figurative monster and turns into a literal monster. He has an incredible speech about his relationship with people's fear, it makes me weep. I called the endgame from the first episode and always thought it was obvious, but there is a red herring love triangle dynamic. It's really not annoying, though, because it is a red herring. (I hate love triangles)

I am Dragon. Russian monster romance film. Beautiful, simple fable with a really great heroine.

Jane Eyre. 1943 Gothic Romance film. It's Jane Eyre, byronic hero x sensible heroine love story with much atmosphere and Gothic drama. I stan this version because I am an Orson Welles fangirl and I'm also not convinced it can be improved upon. Elizabeth Taylor's film debut btw.

Hellboy. 2004 action/adventure/romance film. Defying destiny, reconciling identity, monster romance. The complete package and a great time. Tonally similar to SW and probably thematically closest to it out of this whole list. Don't watch the sequel.

Beauty and the Beast 1987 tv series. Exactly what it says on the tin. Deals with the classic B&tB themes, but in a different way. He's not cursed and will never transform into an ordinary man. The first season is very episodic and 'case of the week', but the second season gets more into character drama. It's dated, but if you give it a chance you can get past some of the cheese factor and it's really a unique experience. Its concerns are SO atypical that it feels like something fandom would make rather than a mainstream network show. It was so massively, insanely popular with women at the time that a record of Vincent (the beast) reading poetry topped the album charts. Also Ron Perlman and Linda Hamilton. Stop at season two. Point of interest: George RR Martin wrote for this show.

Stargate (the movie not the series) sci-fi fantasy about a nerdy guy who accidentally a hero.

Possession. 2009... mystery/supernatural/romance. Okay. This is a whole thing. Lee Pace and Sarah Michelle Gellar. It's based on a Korean film I've never been able to find for some reason, but being Hollywood they ruined the romanticism and nuance of the original in the theatrical cut to make a shitty punative ending. However. If you buy it on dvd and go to the alternate ending (which follows the original story) with around 20 minutes left (scene after Lee Pace's character wakes from a bad dream-go to deleted scenes and select the alternate ending), you will get a very, very interesting character study/thriller/redemption about sincerity within deception, compassion, and a major question about second chances with a positive answer. It's kind of dark and kind of astonishingly idealistic at the same time. The heroine makes a very powerful choice, twice over. It's fascinating. If you're into the conflicted and uncertain period in reylo, the part where he is most ambiguous, and you wanted more of that and much darker shades to it, you might be really into this. Also, it should be noted, there is a MASSIVE height difference and they show it off. The film is flawed (and the seams show on the Hollywood rewrite) but idk, it's fascinating. Shocking to me that they even got to shoot the original ending. It is pretty balls to the wall with its themes on forgiveness.

I would recommend getting into kdramas because there is a wealth of female-gaze tropey amazing content, but always check the ending before getting invested. My all-time fave is the 1st Shop of Coffee Prince, but it's not sw related at all lmao. It has a happy ending with all the elements you'd want, but it's not satisfying in execution, so that's it's major flaw and I find that pretty common with kdramas. One that is maybe more relevant is My Love from Another Star, which has a hero who is a little bit like Ben in personality. The heroine isn't my favourite, though. It does have a decent ending.

Oh yeah- brain fart. Kurosawa films and classic westerns were both very influential on SW. Or you can combine both and watch The Magnificent Seven.

#this somehow ended up a wall of text??? I'm so embarrassed #anyway it should be fixed now #recs #anyway 40s movies are fantastic they used to CHURN OUT rom coms and even the bad ones are entertaining #and they were not in the romance ghetto they had prestige actors and directors #I don't know what happened and why this isn't done now because that shit was profitable #another edit:#I messed up my directions on Possession bc I first saw the alt ending on YouTube from the fridge point #but actually the full thing starts way earlier and covers more of the loose ends than I remembered #so I've fixed that now as well #(because I just rewatched it after writing this rec) and serious SERIOUSLY someone watch this movie and scream about it with me #I can't stress enough how important it is you switch to the alt ending and watch that INSTEAD of the theatrical cut but but but #If you do - OMG the ending is incredible #the coded conversation the subtle optimism #it is a meeting place where we Soft Reylos and the edgier villain/heroine stans can meet in the middle

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brelbyyy · 3 years

Text

I’m re-watching supernatural and oh BOY IS IT FUCKING LONG AS HELL.

Here’s season one with most of the important story stuff if yer too lazy to re watch season 1 or just don’t have the time.

notes~ Sam and dean are bro’s they mom died and their dad is like ehh let’s kill monsters until we kill whatever killed Sara or what’s her name. Sam had friends and a gf but dean dropped by with the news of dad being missing when on a hunt, Sam left the hunting life but goes bc it’d be a dick move to not, bla bla they find dad’s journal idk it probably says something bla bla bla sams gf died the same way mama died and Sam ditches his life to hunt with dean. That’s the end of episode one :)

So bla bla they still can’t find dad but uh apparently dad left a note in his journal about some number stuff, uuuhhhh a few episodes later Sam gets over his daddy issues and oh uh he also dreams of the future like in the Bloody Mary ep it’s revealed he dreamt of his gf’s death DAYS before it ever happened and like he still gets dreams of the future or something. Some poltergeist is copycating the mama killer with another family living in the old Winchester home and like Sam is freaking out about “it’s there bro we need to do some monster fighting ggihfwd-“ deans a bit traumatized about his childhood home cuz uuhhh mommy dearest death, he goes anyway. They meet a psychic their dad meat after a few days ater the fire n’ uh she’s real cool. (ALSO THE BOI MEET MOMMY BC THE POLTERGEIST WAS HURTING SAM, SHE SACRIFICED HER SPIRIT FOR HER CHILDREN, oh uh also dad was at the cool ladies home but Sammy didn’t sense him)

(Also somewhere between here a changing or whatever the fuck stole deans identity n’ caused a lot of crimes, like murder n’ torture. Maybe Sam too? As an accomplice for helping the REAL dean)

Huh huh Sam’s daddy issues returned when dad called to tell them to stop looking for him and uh the mommy killer is a demon >:D bla bla sam n’ dean have a brothers Quarrel cuz dean wants to be a good son bla ba Sam runs away only to find this hitchhiker chick n’ she’s edgy in oh woe is me my family is terrible bla bla dean calls to apologize and say goodbye but like later on Sam tries to call dean back but uuuhh he’s too busy getting sacrificed to some scarecrow god. Sams like “oh no my brother NEVER turns off his phone :’(“ and girly is like u wot u crawling back to yer family???? Come with me,,, bla bla sam saves dean and some other girl and BAM! Hitchhiker girl is eevviiillllll making blood bowl calls to her big boss/dad complaining about not being allowed to kill the Winchester bro’s and uuhhh idk.

So Sammy boi gets visions of the not so distant *FUTURE* about some guy getting murdered in way that looks like a suicide dadadq the bro’s think DEMON SPIRIT CURSE! BUT WHOOPTIE DOO IT WAS THE ABUSED SON WHOyKILLED THE FUCK-TERDS and now its time for step mommy to DIE. Turns out lil mommy killer killed this guys mom too and in the exact same way as dean and sams mom, Sam tries to talk it out but he gets closeted and telekinesis his way out when he visions deans death bla bla the other dude kills himself. Apparently hitch bicker girl is named Meg (god I really have to remember come name.) oh murder muerder trap set up for the boyos set up by Meg and her boss/dad to get to Sam and deans daddy also Meg is a fucking nasty thot. Sammy breaks free and set those shadow puppies free to make Meg swan dive n’ DADDIES HOME! Family reunion or something BUUUTTT Meg is still thoting around She pretended to be dead to give everyone a false sense of security. Ba ba ba shadow boom boom light stick aaannnd dad has to leave cuz he’s vulnerable near his bois (he fights reckless, do or die type of deal and he can’t do that when he’s near his sons cuz he’s worried about them).

More episodes later daddy dearest sends the boys to some place with very sick kiddos, like hospital sick. Turns out dad was trying to hunt this with thing but it escaped n’ now our Winchester gang is here to finish the job! Bla bla flashbacks on how dean had to sacrifice everything to make Sammy happy (the lucky charms) dean had to grow up quick for Sam to be a somewhat normal kid.

HHUUUGGHHHHH- AN OLD HUNTING PAL OF DAD’S DIED FROM MONSTERS AND THOSE COWBOYS FUCKS STOLE THIS SUPER RAD OP GUN CALLED THE COLT! Dad wants this gun cuz it’s apart of his big plan to kill the demon, bla bla dad learns to trust his boys and he finally lets them come along on the revenge train >:D they got the super op gun n’ it rocks.

Paster Jim is dead cuz Meg slit his throat, bla bla she wants the colt n’ starts threatening the lives of everyone that EVER helped em uuhhhh the gang buys a old gun n’ dad gonna pretend it’s the colt dad goes away again to trick the demons that HE has the gun something something they find out idk I forgot the rest.

( He’s kidnapped)

OH OH THEY MEET UH JIMMY? THE OLD UNCKE GUY WHO LIVES IN A GARBAGE PLACE? IDK WHAT ITS CALLED- no wait his name is Bobby, I can’t believe I forgot Bobby’s name oh and uncle bob teaches the boys the demon trap thingy and how more demons are walking among humans like something big bad is happening. Meg visits bla bla she’s stuck in the demon trap, intaragation time about dad and they threaten exorcism bla bla meg reveals what she knows. Ba ba ba dean wants to continue with the exorcism but Sam is like we promised n’ Bobby’s says that the possessed girl would DIE cuz Meg broke the body bla bla the body would fall apart without Meg but like? The girls still in there and I think she needs to be put out of her misery cuz wtf???? That’s not fun but Bobby’s like nooo she’d die but Sam listens to reason and continues the exorcism.girl is super dying. Do de de girl was possessed for a whole year la la la girl tells the stuff Meg left out bo bo ba girl dies.

EEHh still episode twenty something, they go to a river near a place called sunset something, Sam and dean have a fight over something dean’s like “we can kill these fuckers Sam” but sam’s like “dad wouldn’t want us to waste the bullets cuz like ravenge, we got a job to do.” Dean argues “but this is dad! You all are self sacrificing or something”. bla bla separate the humans from the demons by pulling he fire alarm! They steal some fire fighter swag to sneak into the building, they trap those demon fucks in a closet w/ salt and they get dad but the demons come.

Dean uses a colt bullet to save Sam from getting beaten to death by demon w/ making swoosh throwing powers now their back at Bobby’s and SALT THE SHIT out of the house. Dad praises dean for using a bullet to save Sammy, the demons come n’ Sam goes to check the salt: dad asks for the gun but dean goes “your not my dad, he would never praise me for using a bullet” Sam comes back bla bla bla DAD REALLY WAS POSSESSED! A DEMON WHOSE IMMUNE TO HOLY WATER (they checked him before when they saved him) IT’S THE DEMON WHO KILLED MOM, the mom killer reveals says that this is justified cuz they exorcist Meg (his daughter) and the guy dean shot was his son but like bitch get off your high horse all you & yer kids have been doing was trying to kill or fuck things up for the Winchesters. Uwawa mommy killer monologues about killing mom and sam’s gf cuz they got in the way for his plans for Sammy and AALLL THE SPECIAL PHYCIC KIDS LIKE SAMMY! yellow eyed bastard goes off on dean for interrupting him by saying “eehh waahh you give EVERYTHING to this family but they don’t need you not like you need them, Sammy is the favourite kid.” So deans like ooh getting too personal huh? I’m gonna mention your super dead or in hell kids BITCH! so yellow guy just straight up tries to kill dean with magic demon mind powers, deans calls out for dad to not let the mom killer kill him AANNND IT WORKKSSS for a bit: sam’s free to shoot the yellow guy but he’s like “you kill me, you kill dad” but Sam doesn’t give a FUCK and just shoots him.

Sam aimed in a non vital place but that didn’t work, THE FUCK IS STILL ALIVE IN DAD! Luckily san couldn’t pull the trigger to put pops down n’ the demon goes back into the ground after getting shot by ☆SUPER EPIC COLT GUN☆.

Wait where the fuck was Bobby??? Oh wait maybe they weren’t at Bobby’s....

They go on the road to take dad to the hospital, they chat about “why didn’t you kill the demon, I thought we saw eye to eye” but like Sam loves you too much John, he doesn’t need the trauma of killing you- THE BOYS GET IN A CAR CRASH, THAT DEMON ISN’T FUCKING AROUND and then the episode 22 ends.

ALRIGHT THATS THE END OF SEASON ONEE, I wish I write down more about the episodic ones, I liked those ....like the lake one! Dean would’ve made a great father to that kid.

Tldr thing??? So Sammy n’ dean’s mom gets murdered by a super demon when they were kids,dad goes on a rampage against all monsters and the boys get sucked into that lifestyle too forever, Sammy is a phycic special boy and there’s other special kids the demon made. They get special gun to kill the demon but it didn’t work so now they got in a car crash the end. Also demons among humans haha yeaah forget that

#supernatural #supernatural s1 recap #supernatural season one #supernatural season one recap #recap

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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IDOL TIMES (1 part), a Classical Fantasy

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IDOL TIMES

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1988 words

written 2003

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan activity, cosplay, stories, music, plays or skits or anything else is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

“The thieves of Istar are a bunch of lowlife cowards,” declared Rumol, as he snagged a beer from a passing server’s tray. The server noticed the theft, so he tossed a copper fluket onto the tray.

“That’s the kind of talk that gets folk from Kelin beat to a pulp in Istar,” replied Durson mildly from the next bench. “We’re as brave as any thieves that you will find.” He reached over and took a swig from Rumol’s beer. “Now, suppose that you clear up that claim that you made.”

“Simplicity itself,” retorted Rumol, retrieving his beer. “Look about you. You see thieves on hard times. The whole country is in a depression. Nothing to steal that’s worth the theft, you say. Nonsense! The temple of the Chained One stands ripe for the plucking! It’s a whole orchard of treasures and you are starving! I rest my case.”

“You tell us nothing new. Where does the cowardice come from?”

“Why,” said Rumol indignantly, “if you know about a prize like that, and you don’t take it, what other reason can there be?”

“You might try prudence. We are not as stupid as you think us. The Chained One’s temple is guarded day and night by vigilant priests with pike and spear. The treasures cannot be had - bribery has been tried and failed.”

“Perhaps you have not noticed that the temple is only locked, not guarded, on the night of the full moon. The priests retreat to tightly locked quarters. There is a large round hole in the nave roof. It is the perfect time to make a small expedition, using simple skills, for great reward.”

“You are out of what passes for your mind! The Chained One is unchained on that night! Other thieves have tried what you suggest. None has returned. The Chained One is always in a different position after the full moon.”

“It will be safe,” scornfully stated Rumol. “See this?” He held up a chip of stone, smooth on one side. “It came from the Chained One̓s reverend rear, this afternoon. Common stone, very well worked, it is true, but stone nonetheless. If folk disappeared, they must have left a priest hidden inside the temple. We need only take a crossbow and pick him off through the hole in the roof.”

“None of us will help you,” replied Durson. “You still haven’t explained how the Chained One moves.”

“Preserve me from fools!” exclaimed Rumol. “The figure is probably jointed. The priests sneak back through a tunnel and rearrange it.”

“And the live pony that they leave for a sacrifice?”

“You just heard me say that they have a tunnel. They lead it out and sell it, or save it to use again.”

“Well, you have a glib answer for everything. We have lived here all of our lives. We will not risk it.”

“Then you confirm my first statement - you are cowards. I will see to the treasures myself. Don’t expect any share from me,” declared Rumol. “The local guild can do without my dues if I can’t get help.”

Rumol stood, a bit unsteadily, and strode out of the tavern. A few blocks down the street, on the way to his lodgings, he ran into some “friends”. Guild enforcers. One took his arms from behind, while the other faced him. “Heard some talk about a little rat not payin’ his dues,” he said through his Guild mask. “This may help you to reconsider.” He hauled back his arm for a mighty blow to the stomach.

Rumol erupted. He let the man who was holding his arms support him while he lashed out with both feet. As he connected, he straightened his back and smashed backwards with his head. Both men went down, taking Rumol with them. The fall broke the grip of the man holding him; he got up quickly and, leaving them on the ground, ran to his room.

He paused only long enough to gather his few possessions and go out again, without, of course, paying the landlord. “I’ll avoid the guild’s enforcers by camping in the jungle outside the city for the next few days, until the full moon,” decided Rumol.

Two days of shooing serpents out of his sleeping roll and swatting bugs made him wonder if any job was worth this.

The night of the full moon found Rumol, dressed in black, alongside the Chained One’s temple. Sunset and moonrise were nearly the same time and sun was just gone. He had to hurry. He had attended the ceremonial Unchaining only two hours ago. What he had seen had confirmed most of his plans.

Checking his equipment, he made sure that he had his small crossbow, a grapnel, rope, jimmy and a variety of bags for packing loot quietly away. Swinging the grapnel, Rumol heaved it at the top of the wall.

If there were any gods (Rumol had his doubts) they were with him. The hook caught on the coping at the first cast. He was up the rope like a serpent up a vine. Pulling the rope up after him made him reasonably safe from the city watch. The moon began to rise in a nimbus of orange glow at the horizon as he crept in a leisurely way across the roof to the large round hole. Spaced about it were plinths, each supporting a representation of a major moon phase.

Testing these for security, Rumol looped his rope about one. He tied it by wrapping the rope twice about the shank of the grapnel and letting the rope fall between the hooks. Simple, secure, and to be unfastened in an instant, if need be.

With owl’s eyes Rumol searched the temple for hidden priests. Seeing none, he let down the rope, with the bags tied to it as a decoy. Still nothing. Taking no chances, he cocked his crossbow and carried it in the crook of his left arm, as he lowered himself to the floor. The pony whikkered hopefully.

Rumol strode over to where the pony was tied, for his one minor last-minute change in plan. He stroked the pony’s nose and gave it a carrot. That attended to, he set about his work.

All of the altar-ware had been put away in stout cabinets. A few minutes’ work with his jimmy laid the cabinets open to his gaze. There, before his eyes, was the wealth that those fools were afraid to come for. So far, the job had been absurdly simple. Carefully packing each gold or silver vessel into its own smaller sack, he then put them all into a large bag. He left the candlesticks. They were brass.

His next target was the vestry where the jeweled robes, miters, censors, and other priestly gear were kept. The several services that he had attended told him which door to attack. It had only a small spring lock which broke at once under his educated assault. The cabinets where the priestly goods were kept fared no better. Soon, all were looted and their contents resided in Rumol’s bags.

As he emerged into the nave, he saw that the moonlight was partway up the idol. Its two lower eyes glittered green. Emeralds of that size would never happen, but they might be peridots or beryl. Any faceted stones that large would be worth a king’s ransom.

Never one to leave a job half done, Rumol began to climb the idol. Placing feet on huge haunch, thence to paunch, forearm and then to shoulder, he finally straddled the mighty muzzle. The Moonlight clearly showed the two lower eyes to be set in a cement that matched the stone perfectly. It was modeled to resemble eyelids. In a few moments the moonlight would reach the third eye, too. Rumol set to work on the lower right eye.

Just then, the moonlight came to the third eye, and the muzzle tilted as the great head shifted. The eyes blinked. A deep soft voice rumbled, “Please get that thing out of my eye.”

Hanging on for his life, Rumol squeeked in fright, “Let me down! I didn’t know that you were alive! I’ll just get my things and leave you in peace.”

“You do that,” the deep voice said. Great paws set him gently on the floor.

Quickly, he gathered his loot and began to climb the rope. The huge paws seized him gently but irresistibly, and separated him from the rope. “You said that you would take your things and go. Those things are mine.”

Rumol almost squeaked in fright, “Don’t eat me! Please!”

“Eat you?” the idol answered in surprise, “I would never do that! Where ever did you get that idea?”

“Everybody says that you eat a pony - and any thieves - every moon.” Rumol shook his head, “I didn’t believe them.”

“Well, the pony is my dinner, that’s true,” the idol held him closer to its eyes which were now thoroughly lively, “but I don’t often get a guest to talk to. The priests never stay anymore. They know that their spells keep me from escaping this room as long as my body is stone, which is not likely to change anytime soon.” The idol paused in thought and a devious expression came and went from its massive visage.

“You went to a great deal of trouble and danger to get these things, didn’t you?”

Enfolded in the mighty paws of the idol, Rumol contented himself with a nod of agreement.

The Idol set him down in front of the altar. It carefully emptied out all of Rumol’s booty. “I see that you have even taken the lunar divination die of silver and ivory. If you will stay and talk, I will give you a chance to win some or all of the of these things. Let us play for what you have taken. Each of us will roll in turn. The one whose phase is closest to full wins. Waxing phase is higher than waning. The blank new moon always loses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

The game progressed swiftly. Sometimes the advantage was with Rumol, sometimes with the idol. Eventually, chance alloted all the loot to the idol. Rumol stood dejected.

He brightened when the idol proposed, “One more pass? All or nothing?”

“Certainly. You’re the best winner that I have ever known. Anyone can be a good loser. Graceful winning is the test.” Taking the die, Rumol threw a waxing gibbous moon. The idol promptly made its throw. A full moon came up. The idol took Rumol gently and said, “You lose. As you have nothing else to give, look into my third eye.” Rumol did as he was bidden; he really had no choice.

Rumol felt a great disorientation and confusion; there was the impression of something dark going up, near him. His right eye hurt. He felt hungry and felt a stiffening all over. There was an intense urge to get up on the altar. As the moonlight faded, he got stiffer and the urge to get onto the altar got stronger, until he could not resist it any longer. Gazing longingly at the pony, he got up on the altar. With the last of the moonlight, consciousness waned on the thought that he was going to be very hungry by the next full moon.

The next morning the priests were surprised at what they found. A young acolyte exclaimed, “This is terrible! The Chained One has refused the pony! Look, there he stands. I pray you, lord priest, what does it mean?”

“Use your eyes, young man,” the priest replied sonorously. “See you not the bags, the jimmy, the broken cabinets? Another fool has tried to rob us.

“Now, while we priests replace the chains, you acolytes clean up the mess. Be sure that things are put away properly and then run get a carpenter to fix these cabinets.”

-THE END-

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This completes Idol Times. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr.

#IDOL TIMES #Classical Fantasy #Written by De Writer

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jesslivesau · 3 years

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jess au @iloveeverythingwaytoomuch

pre show jess: doesn't know anything except that sam told her some fucked up shit and she didn't really believe him much like amelia didn't believe jimmy but what's clear to her is that sam's upbringing was deeply fucked up in what might've been some kind of apocalypse doomsday cult and she can say "sam, it wasn't real" as much as she can til she's blue in the face but it isn't going to change the fact that sam is Deeply Fucked Up by Shit. and it upsets her and confuses her but he does a good job of setting it aside or knowing when to give in and he's such a sweet and Loving Dude otherwise so she just files it away in her bf trauma bank and keeps cheering him on

s1 jess: your bf's CRAZY brother shows up says he needs help finding your bf's CRAZY dad who may or may not have been part of a doomsday cult and you say, bitch i watched the heaven's gate documentary there is NO WAY i'm letting you leave with him, but he's not gonna Stay cuz he insists it's just for one night (and his brother DOES seem relatively stable, like, as a person), so jess insists she'll go too. while she's in the back seat sam tells dean he told her everything dean's like lol. sure. you believe in ghosts, sweetheart? and jess is like no but i do believe that i'll kick your ass if we don't get home in time for sam's interview tomorrow morning. and then the whole white woman thing happens and she's like oh fuck it's REAL but they DO GO HOME and instead of jess dying on the ceiling there's like idk ghost mary on the ceiling or some shit and they NARROWLY escape the fire together andddd idk they can't go back to stanford cuz it's not safe and their apartment complex literally went up in flames. there’s a more complex reason here but idk what it is. maybe it was brady (demon brady) who died or something IDK LISTEN ITS JUST AN AU

anyway all of season 1 when they’re trying to track down john jess is the voice of reason asking why do they need john in the first place? And eventually sam is like listen we don’t need HIM but if he’s got research on where yellow eyes is, that’s what we need. and dean is mad about that and he’s mad at jess and they bicker like crazy. and sam sleeps on the floor because dean is like dude cmon. don’t make me sleep in the same room as you and your gf together. maybe meg gets replaced by meg possessing jess, and she doesn’t get thrown out the window so when they exorcise her she just needs a hospital and then she’ll be ok. and that would explain why she’s in the hospital and not there for the finale, but can meet up with sam & john & dean in the hospital after

s2 jess: sam is so consumed by grief and fear that jess is actually the first one to notice that dean’s spirit might still be still Around. i’m imagining a scene where sam is asleep next to dean’s bed and jess is awake, and she slowly looks around towards dean and you see ghost!dean Connecting with her for the first time

obviously, all the grief episodes keep happening. maybe jess got seriously hurt as well tbh so she goes back to her parents house to recover; there’s an episode where the boys go meet her parents and dean and sam’s Daddy Issues come out in full force. eventually jess is back and kicking ass and slowly getting along more with dean, partially perhaps because of dean’s Grief Response to john’s death, which is that all the anger and hate comes bubbling up, and jess is like i don’t fucking know this dude, but from what sam’s told me, i hate him, which is not something that sam is in a position to Deal With right now. things proceed pretty much along the course

i am considering now if jess could also be a special child. she also has some kind of psychic abilities but i’d have to choose something cool for her. anyway if she IS then that gets her in the town with sam in all hell breaks loose which i think is the best place for her during that arc? i know all the other special children supposedly had to die but maybe her psychic power was to go inviisble or something lmfao i don’t fucking know. anyway dean has his sad monologue but jess either (a) fully shuts down or (b) just goes STRAIGHT to hunt down whatever the fuck his name is. jake? leverage man? that would be dope actually. and then actually dean, sam, bobby, and ellen actually meet her at the hell’s gate

s3 jess: truly does not understand why they’re hunting. gets into arguments with the boys all the time about how this is pointless, if you’re not gonna try and save yourself then why can’t you just put it down and let yourself have this year?? and dean’s a little bit like you know what jessica that makes a lot of damn sense. but it makes sam mad and they argue a lot about it and jess probably takes off halfway through the season. maybe after malleus maleficarum? partly cuz that’s the ep where ruby more or less becomes part of the team and also when she confirms that she can’t save dean from hell. and i just feel like jess would be like i cannot.... Sit Here.... and watch you both drive yourself into the ground. dean, if you’re gonna die, sam’s coming after you. you knew that. you just didn’t want him to go first.

maybe dean hits her lmfao and sam screams at him for it and jess just Walks Away, tearfully

s4 jess: so jess bailed midway through s3, but when dean wakes up and starts making calls in that phonebooth, he calls bobby and bobby hangs up, so he calls jess. and she comes and gets him.

jess and sam are obviously not together anymore, but jess is totally civil with sam and even with ruby. she’s like we can work together, it’s fine, whatever. and this is the season where dean and jess really bond and become a good Team. and cas is just usually confused why jess is Around but eventually gets used to her. i’ve toyed with jess being jewish which would lend a good and also funny perspective to all the heaven and hell stuff

jess heard about hell first from dean, but not the specifics of the stuff that dean told sam, not until after on the head of a pin. she’s their Lore Expert on seals and is trying to identify as many of them as possible so they can put in place safeguards, and maybe that bumps her up against angel priorities for an episode. maybe we get an episode where cas has to Threaten her 00 and he can say something like sam and dean are important..... you are not. remember that. and then [flappy wings vanish]

uhhhh jess’s siren in the siren episode....... is just like a carbon copy of sam lmfao. which is extremely funny and sam and jess will both kind of awkwardly clear their throats and not address that. i guess jess is just fucking stuck with bobby during the finale because the point of her presence is that she’s so USELESS to both demons and angels

s5 jess: i’d probably add in an early episode where her parents are killed, probably by demons because the demons know they can’t touch the winchesters due to angel shit but they can fuck up jess as much as they want. then when sam and dean temporarily split up jess would go with dean cuz she’s a hunter now and has nowhere else to go and it doesn’t feel right to just sit around with sam. or maybe she also leaves and splits up and doesn’t stick with dean cuz she’s processing her own traumatic shit. at any rate, early in the season there’s a moment where sam is Gone and dean and jess are drinking together and talking about their feelings and they have a moment where they gaze at each other in the eyes and almost lean towards each other.... then jess goes you know what? this is fucking weird and dean is like oh thank god you said that absolutely this is too weird

in The End, it’s revealed that jess was killed and no one will tell dean more information or talk about her until he finds out that she was pregnant when she was killed (presumably with sammifer’s baby)

in changing channels they get put into a telenovela and sam and jess have an tearful emotionally charged confession scene in spanish. this is about when sam and jess finally get back together [cue cheering]

in the chuck eps it’s revealed chuck rewrote it so that jess died on the ceiling in the first book cuz he was like “i just didn’t think it made sense for her to be alive! it was literary symmetry that’s all!”

in sam, interrupted when sam is all high on meds that’s when he says lots of kooky sweet shit to jess about wanting to MARRY her and have a FAMILY together and it’s sweet and also dean throws up in his mouth a little bit having to hear it

in my bloody valentine the thing that jess is hungry for is Family but i do not know the logistics of how

in dark side of the moon jess does die with the boys but it takes a while to find her, tho they eventually do in one of sam’s favorite memories (probably from the first time they met or something). she’s like what the fuck i’m jewish

no, i have no clue how she factors into swan song. she just does, ok. lucifer can snap her neck along with bobby’s

s6 jess: she tried to check in with dean occasionally at the braedens, and actually had dinner with them once but started checking in less and less as the year went on, and it turns out she knew that sam was back and she’d been hunting with him + the campbells and a couple things

when dean finds out he is truly FURIOUS, but jess is like dean i saw you with lisa and ben! i saw you getting better! i saw you happy, i saw you ok, and hell i’ve only known you since you showed up in palo alto five years ago but it was the most at peace i’ve ever seen you, and i couldn’t take that away from you, and neither could sam.

she’s also like yes, dean, he’s different, he’s colder, it makes me sad but who was the one who put up with YOU when you were spiralling after your dad’s death? or when you were all buttoned up after you came back from hell? he did! so show him a god damn OUNCE of empathy, would you!

and when they find out he’s soulless jess is like. hm. and dean is like i TOLD you there was something wrong with him!!! and jess is like i mean.... yeah....... and maybe i didn’t really want to admit it... cuz.... the sex was So good.........

[soulless sam winks at her]

anyway, s6 happens the way it happens and that’s fine

s7: the only important thing that happens in s7 is that Season Seven, It’s Time For a Wedding! is actually about some sort of monster and the only way to kill it is to cast a spell but the spell must be cast by “two warriors joined before god” which means married and cas is awkward about it cuz he doesn’t want to Presume Anything

and the whole episode is lots of sam and jess being like “i mean, of course, if you want to..... .like, but if you DON’T, that’s also totally fine, of course.... you know.... whatever you’re comfortable with” until finally they’re in the final battle and cas has to marry them the way barbossa does for will and elizabeth in potc and when dean is pinned against the wall by the monster he goes “DAMMIT JESS WILL YOU KISS MY BROTHER ALREADY” and then sam dips jess in a kiss and the monster is instantly obliterated [heart eyes]

i truly genuinely do not remember anything that happens in s7. anyway jess and sam are married now

s8: sam was with jess the whole year dean was in purgatory. they were struggling to get back to normal life after everything. dean is still fucking mad that sam didn’t go looking for him. i assume everything else goes pretty much according to whatever the fuck happened in s8 except jess at one point has to go to bat for benny cuz sam for some reason hates him so much

i’ve been toying with the idea of jess doing the trials not sam but i mean how can i take that away from my Boy

s9: i do not know anything that happened in this season ):

s10: see above

s11: see above

s12: now i never watched s12, but in this au there is no lucifer’s son jack. instead jess gets pregnant midway through the season; cas finds out first because he can sense it and he’s like why does it feel like there’s an extra being in the bunker, and then he spills to dean cuz he can’t keep a secret, and then dean is like “oh shit what are you gonna do” and jess is like well!!!! sam and i.... talked about this. we were.....open to the possibility. and dean is like wtf how could u possibly bring a child into this world that’s fucked up adn cas is like [wipes tear] that’s beautiful

anyway when they come back from some kind of hunt (probably something that involved claire) and sam and jess are in the bunker, sam goes “jess, seeing claire, seeing jody and the girls.... it makes me think.... i wanna have a family with you” and jess hugs him and then cas walks into the bunker with dean and is like “oh, have you told him about the baby?” and everyone SCREAMS at him

and cas uses his annual miracle allowance to just reverse time about 30 seconds so when he enters the bunker he just goes “i have nothing to say” and Fucking Leaves

the baby is born in the back of the impala in the s12 finale, on the way to the hospital. dean is devastated. he’ll have to reupholster the WHOLE THING. sam accidentally names the baby john but they don’t want to tell dean that so they decide to call him jack.

s13-15 gets to be mostly about how cute it is to have a wittle baby in the bunker. cas is the best babysitter because he loves babies and is very powerful so he can protect him. the occultum nonsense in s15 can be about finding a Safe Place for baby jack, no matter what happens to the rest of the world. sam tells jess, you go with him, you’ll be safe there. dean tells sam, you go with them, you’ll be safe there. all of that good good cute family stuff. was it the best idea to have a baby in the middle of constant apocalypses? maybe not, but like, they are ALWAYS in constant apocalypses, so at some point you just have to bite the bullet

anyway. please clap

#au

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squirrels49 · 3 years

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What Fowl Can Be Known as a Hawk, But Isn't a Hawk in Any Way?

It was not the first moment that our kitty had brought a surprise back with her. It was not the first time she'd attracted in a live fowl. Maybe it had been she published it in the sack instead of the basement or livingroom (her standard locations to place her victim unfastened ). I presume what really surprised me that the most was the size of the bird that has been now flying in a panic around my bedroom.Over years, using just two female house cats who we let outdoors a few of hours per day, we have experienced our share of rabbits, mice along with other bark , and birds input our residence. Most of time they're still alive, fearful, but for the most part, unharmed. Cats that are satisfactorily fed do not hunt for meals, they hunt for fun, and thus they ordinarily don't eat the animals/birds they capture. They often bring them to the individuals as a present or to demonstrate that they'd caught something.Being a Healer, I understand the value of aiding those creatures and critters overcome their shock before discharging themas it is the jolt which often kills themnot any injury they may have sustained.So the chicken that was currently flying across the sack was just the modern chicken necessitating my attention.Unfortunately, which has been going for considered a significant issue. I was used to helping little sparrows that frequented our garden and the neighbor's bird feeders. This chicken was much bigger-in factthat he had been a predator . He was a hawk.I need to admit my close connections with hawks has been lacking. I feel the nearest I came into one was one had been at an tree eyeing a deceased bird close by. Still, the chicken proved to be much further away compared to main one who currently stood in my dresser looking like it would attack anything or anyone which moved.Normally I'd have let the chicken settle down a bit before approaching him, but it was hurt by my cat like I saw blood onto the ground and walls where the hawk had flown. This absolutely had been enough bloodstream to imply that waiting was not wise if I wanted him to survive.But there have been those talons. And there clearly is that sharp, pointed beak.And these very modest eyes were seeing each movement I made.I shut the bedroom door to contain his flight then grabbed a small blanket to throw over him. This functioned. The bird can barely fly. I donned leather gloves and sunglasses (for security ) subsequently lifted the package, careful to grip the ft. With my husband's assistance, I had been able to examine the bird without even any the damage to either of the us. He experienced only a small cut on his rear and one of his wings had been overlooking a couple larger feathers. Each wounds were bleeding.As I found no other wounds that were of immediate consideration, '' I gave the fowl that the homeopathic medication Aconitum napellus("Aconite") for the shock. Aconite operates great to relaxed shock in animals along with human beings. I have used it before on creatures and critters, also when responding to vehicle accidents.When the remedy had slid the bird, I washed the cuts afterward gave him that the homeopathic medication Gunpowder to stem infections. I bandaged his wing it wouldn't proceed for transport to the Wildlife Sanctuary. For rehab, they'd execute a excellent job.But Al As, these were shut, or so the hawk was attracted house and put from the spare rest room because of the night-it was quiet and there was nothing the hawk could damage himself should he drift all about. He looked a ton better than he'd had before he had been awarded the homeopathics.The subsequent early morning , the hen was doing great, however that I still wasn't certain about the wing. I removed the bandage from his wing, lifted up him and enabled him to fly-he didn't do so good-so I took him into the Sanctuary for more treatment. The hawk was possibly the size of my kitty and that I wondered just how she'd gotten the jump on him. Marin (my kitty ) had no harms, that had been surprising since the hawk was a predator who would prey . Maybe, becoming that the hawk was not small, he was not a threat to Marin.The hawk was published from your Wildlife Sanctuary that a few days later. The rehabilitation helper had been amazed the bird had not arrived for the Sanctuary in jolt, and failed to develop an infection and was able to become released so fast. I wasn't amazed, however, due to the fact I understood the healing skills of homeopathy.I believed the stories that the hawk would tell to other hawks, even joked only just a bit believing the hen could probably come up with a very dangerous and exciting story, telling of this great struggle which had hurt him. Had he told the truth-that he was captured by the cat-he would have already been teased for quite a while.The initial issue we did our trip was supposed to check to our hotel which was that the Barrier Station re sort at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. On our holiday bundle we've got a 3 days and 2 night live, they gave us some dinner certificates to Mulligan's restaurant and pub and Jolly Rodgers. Also a excellent surprise in our vacation package had been 2 tickets to a Musical Show.After checking in we moved right into the hotel to examine it empty the large quantity of luggage we had brought us. The room was we predicted. Even though there were only 2 of us they gave us a two bed room accommodation. This was the bomb because we had our own toilet. The master bedroom had a huge Jacuzzi inside (which we use every night) along with also a king size bed together with a huge balcony. The other bedroom needed to bedrooms and your bathroom. They both had television's and were very well decorated. Along side a huge living space, dining room and kitchen that they also had a washer and dryer. Had we know this we'd have brought much less clothing?After unpacking we moved into the welcome center and assessed all those tasks that these were presenting. They had special to ground meals, games and a variety of lessons, along side several traveling excursions. Perhaps not merely did they all will have outside pools however they also had just one of the largest indoor grills that I have ever seen. And of course a weight room with all types of exercise equipment and also in door and outdoor hot tubes. Of course, when that was not enough they had a superb character walk trail and a location for runners.After exploring the resort we chose to simply take benefit of one of those dinner certificates we had been given and also went on Mulligan's for lunch. We're impressed by the number and high quality of the food and service we received. They'd a deck which moved to the surface of the cafe s roof with tables up there and also you could take pleasure in the sea view as you dined. I do feel just a modest sorry for its waters since they needed to go upward and down about half staircase all day long.When we ended dinner we continued with our vacation going to the shore where we did just a small sunning and tried some small fishing in the fishing pier that had been a few miles from our resort. Not bringing some fishing gear together were surprised that they'd everything you might want to go fishing. It simply cost us about 40.00 for all the apparatus and bait you wanted and now being outside to the pier you did not need to worry about getting eaten alive from almost any critters which might possibly be wondering all around on the island. We also toured about thirty kilometers of the island also found many great places to eat and shop. One of my favorite areas in Kitty Hawk to eat would be Jimmy's Sea Food Buffet. They offer an early bird special at which you can win $100.00 in funds as well as to get the first hour they give you lobster. You really don't even miss the lobster though, because with every different kind of seafood you may think of they possess ten different sorts of crab legs plus you can eat everything you want. Unfortunately we didn't get to eat there this time round because of the a number of other locations we never tried while there on vacation.However we did get to see one of the better musicals that I have ever gone . It was mixed with oldies and classical tunes together with some humor. The entire cast was superb. It lasted about two hours was so interesting that it felt which we're only there for half an hour. They change shows frequently so if you visit into the outside banks regularly you may get to see distinctive reveals. On Wednesdays that they offer you a magical show for those magical buffs in the same construction. So the next time you go there on a break please put that on you are todolist because you won't be sorry when planning on taking my own advice.One issue I did not plan moment doing our vacation was a round of golf and I am sorry I didn't because there weren't several really nice cheap golf courses near. I'm not sure but some one told us there were 12 in the area. Sounds like a golfer's paradise to me personally and together with this most golf courses I think that you need to plan to stay per week instead of just a few days. We did not go into any one of this course's this time round whilst the temptations would have already gone to great but I am certain that with many that they might never have been on to crowded.Well the bottom point for the full article is that it was really so relaxing and so gratifying our next vacation will likely be in the outside banks next year plus people also plan on taking a couple mini holidays or long weekends because a few call it there on a normal basis. And certainly will always be towards the top of my record for vacations to get quite a while for you to come.Because a few varieties of hawk some times kill game critters, the full class continues to be contested. You can find those, and they are several, who fail to observe that birds of prey fill out an important part in the amazing scheme of character. Does the hunter who shoots down the hawk at each and every prospect, because some species occasionally captures what he is very happy to take into account his special property, ever cease to request exactly what caused the quail along with different non-migratory match critters to reach the powers of swift flight that alone create sure they are desired as things of sport?It may be that the bird of prey, pursuing one opposite since the days of these invention, which has evolved not only its own strength of wing, but but in addition that of its quarry. And just as certainly as it is accurate, therefore indeed will that electricity be lost in the event the contributing cause be removed. The do do, a pigeon, found himself over the island of Mauritius in which enemies were unknown. He yielded to gluttony and in action, designed a corpulence that uttered traveling, and was eaten out of the face of the planet in a limited while right following his discovery by gentleman. His relative, the rock dove, who'd to flee the chasing hawk or perish, created but retains a power of wing which is famous around the world.To find additional details on this please dig this. At the same manner some other species, notably a number of the rails, by adopting a carefree lifetime, have forfeited flightand now face extermination if some active enemy invades their haunts. The most hawks, which we have been now , have made our grouse and quail what they are. Close students of the area additionally recognize that the amazing significance of hawks from removing game animals suffering from infectious diseases. Just a small thought should convince people of the fallacy of this debate the diminishing ranks of our game critters are the consequence of depredation by hawks, an idea that's become the foundation of most of the prejudice directed toward them. In case this were well founded then the decimation of the hunters would have caused a gain in match birds.In real truth the two hawks and match possess diminished concurrently, and also from exactly the very same primary bring about. For example of the destruction of harmless hawks under mere sensing, there can be cited an item only published in the report of advancement within an evaluation of methods for increasing quail. Up to thirty marsh hawks had been frequenting roosting regions from the match addresses, and so approximately 1 / 2 of these were taken. Subsequently over one million of the castings of the birds have been analyzed, each signifying dinner with the result that the stays of 4 quail had been observed, whereas a lot more than 2 hundred dishes had comprised one or even cotton rats, which eat the eggs of the quail. Really the announcement is highlighted that the majority of the opponents of those quail are the destroyers of its foes.The nighttime bird that is described being a Frequent Nighthawk is not a hawk in any way, but also a Nightjar. The title derives from the fact that the man makes a exact loud'jarring' call. All these 10" jay-sized birds have plumage that is indeed well camouflaged it renders them almost undetectable once they are nesting around the ground. They like to use gravel on which to rest and also build their nests. Nightjars additionally utilize dry grass and leaf litter, which hides their brown and gray mottled feather coloring perfectly.Nature also has given the nightjars' eggs with camouflage by creating grayish brown scrawling marks all around the off-white egg-shells. Mama nighthawk incubates the eggs all by herself. Preventing the nest emptied at the early day and afternoon, the feminine nightjar ventures outside to collect pests on that to feed, whilst her male counter part watches from a position never far away. He will finely lure off any prospective predators. Surprisingly, regardless of the typical nighthawk's custom of nesting on the ground, they are remarkably long-lived. The normal life span for a nightjar is 5 years, which is quite a while in bird years.After 18 times have passed, and the younger nightjars hatch. Now they're totally coated with fluffy down feathers. This really can be when the male measures in to help feed the younger hatchlings. Flying pests comprise their whole diet and are pre digested and then regurgitated with their own ma ma and papa.If the infants are jeopardized by almost some other predator, including individuals, ma-ma nighthawk pulls a nifty trick out of her bag and acts like she was hurt. She is good at this action which the predator is tempted to move off out of her nestlings since she clumsily blows off a brief distance away. After the intruder was taken enough by the nest, ma-ma nighthawk flies off usually. Nightjars are all about foraging at dusk, twilight and in moon light. Additionally they hunt as darkness turns to dawn. Their highly sensitive crimson reddish eyes tend not to require plenty of light as a way to locate their prey. In fact, too much light can blind them into your own foodstuff. In case the current weather is wet or snowy, nighthawks revert to a country of torpor to reserve their power. When problems are favorable to good searching, they take to the skies all over again. Nighthawks forage only on the wing. Once they restthey lay length wise across a branch or right on a lawn. Their feet are so tiny and their legs really long as to be not quite ineffective to them.The telephone of a nightjar can be a high-pitched'spee-spee-spee' sound that I have heard often when I am out throughout bliss. During a night of trying to find insects like moths and mosquitoes, even a nighthawk can rid us of thousands of pests. Their mouths are deceptively large and open very wide while they scoop the air for all types of traveling bugs. As they want more open spaces near forests in which insects are plentiful, nightjars are one of the very first ever to take advantage of a freshly burnt forest region. These areas afford a very good background due to their bright colors, thus helping them combine in to that environment additional easily.The decline of common nighthawks has been brought about partly with using pesticides, deficiency of habitat in which to hunt, and also the deficiency of their favorite nesting sites. That are the older style apartment lava roof. The other exact obvious rationale is that their habit of earth nesting and resting makes them much more at risk of predators such as owls, falcons and hawks.When their instinct tells them to go for warmer climes at South America, they shape flocks at times numbering in the tens of thousands Their migratory travel starts in mid July as the nightjars take the own time to stop and eat on the way. If they spot a river or marshland about sunsetthey are going to pause to eat their fill and re-energize, subsequently continue their very lengthy trek southward. Nighthawks return to the united states and Canada around February with the very same leisurely method.Common nighthawks also have been referred to as'bull bats' because of their nightly . However, they don't use echo location as snakes do to find prey. Nightjars have likewise obtained the strange name of'goatsuckers'. At some point it had been mistakenly thought they made their way into barns at night time to sneak the milk out of goats, but this is not true.There are just six species of us Nightjars: Eastern Whippoorwill,'' Mexican Whippoorwill, Chuck-Will's-Widow, Pauraque ('pa-RAW-kee') and Buff-collared Nightjar. All of these species are on the reduction. It isn't probable that you may understand a nighthawk because of these nighttime flights along with camouflage, form fact which they can stay absolutely still whenever approached. They will only fly when the prospective predator has too close for comfort. But in case you need to ever see one of these birds, consider yourself quite blessed indeed!Connie Smith could be the proud operator and director of Grandma Pearl's Backporch, LLC, and the professional writer of many online content about effortless and one of a kind methods by which you can cause the greatest bird-friendly lands to enable wild birds thrive and thrive. Understand just how to produce fun and secure backyard habitats for wild creatures with their preferred crops and foods, even whilst adding shade, odor and beauty to your landscape. Uncover simple how-to projects for producing your very own one of a kind bird feedersand find out how easy it's to entice various birds into your gardens and lawn. Visit today!

#lethargic wasps in house

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michael-langdon-appreciation · 5 years

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part 11 of the foursome please queen? ❤️

Your wish is my command.

Hold onto tight and keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times please.

Part 11

——————————————————————————————-

JIM

He knows he’s being a helicopter dad, but Jim can’t help himself. Nothing matter more in the world to him than the health of his little baby. It is paramount as he lifts his head up from Y/N’s laptop for the third night in a row. Her hand strokes his back gently, a cup of coffee wafts in front of his face as Jim blinks and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Y/N’s expression is forlorn, ‘You can’t keep doing this to yourself.’ She cautions, her voice light as if speaking to a nervous cat. ‘You’re burning yourself out.’

The research has become one big fog of mumbo jumbo for Jim anyway. He takes the mug of coffee and blows on it, ‘Anything I can do, anything I can try to help-’

‘You aren’t helping anyone by not taking care of yourself.’

Jim swallows a big gulp of coffee. It’s strong and a little too hot still as it travels down his throat, ‘You’re right.’ He mutters, putting the mug down. ‘I just-’

‘You just can’t help yourself.’ She finishes off, making Jim smile.

‘Bingo.’

Y/N pulls up a seat beside him, sharing the desk space with him. She closes the laptop lid and ruffles Jim’s hair, ‘You’re going to be an incredible father.’

Bitterness burns Jim, the rage he still carries with him every single day. The outrage and spark for justice, that his baby is fighting for its life every day, every minute, every hour. His hand falls onto Y/N’s stomach, the bump noticeably prominent since Jim has been living at the apartment. ‘It’s only been two weeks,’ Jim mumbles. ‘But already they are getting so big.’

‘They are playing hell on my back.’ Y/N smiles, ‘Every time I wake up I feel completely wrecked.’

‘A good wrecked?’ Jim asked, ‘Like you used to say after we’d gone a few rounds?’

His hand squeezes her thigh as Y/N’s laugh fills the office, ‘You could say that I suppose. But a bath would usually fix me right up.’

‘Then that’s what you need.’ Jim decides, finding the energy to drag himself and Y/N to the bathroom. ‘A good long hot bath. Some aftercare, just like the old times.’

Jim starts running the tub, putting the plug in and dumping in some bath oils. Y/N watches him, her tongue poking out of her mouth, it’s adorable to Jim, mostly because Y/N never realises she does it. It’s a habit she displays whoever being spoiled. Usually Duncan was the most privy to it, but Jim’s vision seems to brighten as he drops a couple suds on her nose. ’Are you going to pamper me, Jim Mason?’ She asks, her voice coy. Y/N teases the bottom of her pyjama shirt, running her fingers along it to expose a hint of flesh.

Jim’s eyes are glued to it, ‘Yes.’

‘Will you do whatever I want this morning?’ The top slips higher, revealing the bump and just under Y/N’s breasts. It reminds Jim of his favourite swimsuit at once, the one that teases him all day with the under-bust visible for everyone’s eyes. Jim swallows, forcing down the rush of blood that is running to his cock.

This morning is about Y/N, not him.

Y/N’s eyebrows rise, waiting for his answer and Jim supplies it on instinct. ‘Yes.’

She could have asked him to jump off Mount Everest and Jim would still say yes.

Jim tugs off his own shirt, along with his trousers. ‘I’m getting in.’ He decides, ‘I think we are long overdue for some alone time away from Duncan and Jerome.’

Y/N climbs into the tub, waiting for Jim to take his place. ‘Such much male ego about the place, it’s nice to have some time just us.’

Jim leans back against the bath, his muscles singing at the hot water. Bubbles flutter around him as Y/N relaxes back against his chest, jasmine and honeysuckle trickle through the air as she presses a kiss to his chest. Jim’s eyes fall shut, his girl’s weight resting against him. His fingers dip into her hair, stroking gently.

Paradise.

How Jim took the simple things for granted.

‘I’m glad you stayed.’ She murmurs, ‘You’re growing Jim. You put aside your temper and…possessiveness for the good of us and our baby.’ She peeps up at him, ‘That’s still so weird to me. Our baby.’

The chloroform rag dances in Jim’s mind and he squashes it immediately.

No.

He’s past that.

Y/N right, never again will he resort to such levels.

‘I was reading about this hospital in Philadelphia who specialises with difficult births.’ Jim reveals, ‘They have an incredible success rate. Most of the births happen in water and stuff so it’s natural and helps. You know, gravity and stuff.’ Y/N nods, her mind not really with him. Her eyes have that far-away look as Jim peers closer at her, ‘What is it?’

She hesitates, and then plunges on, a finger tracing over Jim’s chest. ‘I know you have your concerns.’ She begins, ‘But I believe with every fibre of my being that Michael will never let anything happen to our baby.’

‘It’s about precautions.’ Jim fights to keep the edge from his voice, ‘It’s about being in the right place. Michael is…many things but he isn’t infallible.’

‘I have faith in him.’

‘Yeah.’ The mood has been ruined for Jim, he’s over-heating in the hot water. He wants to be back at the laptop, just as he does every time the Antichrist is mentioned these days.

‘You won’t keep him away Jim.’ Y/N’s voice too has hardened, ‘No one will be able to keep Michael from the birth of his child.’

‘As long as he stays back unless needed.’ Jim says, ‘And lets me have my moment with my child.’

Y/N’s eyes glint, ’Our child.’

Jim smirks down at her, ‘My apologies, our child. Of course.’ His lips press against her forehead, ‘Our beautiful child.’

The moment relaxes, Y/N turning round to rest her back against Jim. His hands skirt over her belly, cupping water to pour over her exposed shoulders. ‘Have you thought about names yet?’

Jim thinks, ‘Not really.’ He admits, ‘I’ve been too focused on making sure the pregnancy goes well. That our baby survives.’

‘Maybe we could look up names that mean fighter, or survivor?’

Jim scrunches up his nose, ‘Nah, I don’t want this moment to define her.’

‘Her?’

‘Them.’ Jim corrects himself, ‘I feel it’s a girl.’

Y/N hums, ‘I’d like a girl and a boy.’

Jim grins, ‘Well what you want, baby. You get.’

Y/N splashes some water at him, ‘I’m not that entitled.’ She protests, ‘Not my fault Duncan likes to splash his cash.’

‘Yeah adding a specially modified twin baby-seat to his jet was real necessary.’

Y/N giggles against him, some of the water slopping out of the bath. ‘Oh absolutely.’ She grabs the shampoo bottle and squirts some into her hand, reaching for Jim’s head. ‘Either way, they will be…blank Mason.’

‘Blank?’

‘Till we have a name.’ She grins, ‘But the baby will carry your last name.’

‘I never expected anything less.’

The bathroom door swings open as Jerome walks in, newspaper in hand. Y/N freezes beside Jim, her hands stuck in his hair. Suds drip down Jim’s face as he makes sure Y/N is obscured by bubbles. Jerome recovers first, ‘Can I join?’

‘Get out!’ Jim bellows, tugging Y/N to him.

Jerome smirks, ‘You really should lock the door, that’s what it’s for.’

‘Out, Jerome.’ Y/N echoes watching as the Salesman backs out of the bathroom with a snicker.

‘Well don’t be long.’ He calls, Shepherd is in the en-suite and you know it takes him an hour to do his beauty routine and my bladder won’t hold out that long.’

——————————————————————————————-

DUNCAN

The bathroom door squeaks, the hinges protesting horribly as it is treated to yet around round of pounding. ‘You’d better be taking that long cause today’s the day.’

‘None of your business.’ Duncan calls back through the door. He smoothes a strand of hair into place, his fingers jumping through the array of hair products dumped along the sink.

‘Come on man I’m dying.’ Jerome whines, ‘Y/N and Jim are having a precious moment in the bath and you’ve beaten your hourly record. I’m sure you’re beautiful, sport. Now let me in!’

Duncan sighs, opening the door as Jerome barges inside. ‘You’re welcome.’

Jerome stops his watch as he sits on the toilet, ‘An hour and twenty minutes, congratulations on the new record.’

‘Fuck you.’ Duncan turns back to the mirror as the Salesman starts undoing his belt, ‘Seriously?’

‘You won’t leave.’ The trousers fall down, ‘I’m desperate. This is what you get, buddy.’

Duncan rolls his eyes, abandoning the task. ‘Fine, but you’re cleaning up.’

‘Abuse the Nanny, I see how it is.’

Duncan slams the door shut and leans against the wall. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t left as he waits for Jerome to finish up, ‘Maybe today is the day.’

The toilet flushes and Jerome emerges, his eyes triumphant. ‘It’s about time. I’ve had to hide the ring twice to stop Jim finding it.’

Duncan’s insides twist. He is hiding this from Jim, isn’t he?

Jerome leads the way to the kitchen, ‘So how are you doing it? Dinner? Walk by the beach? Take her up in the jet?’

Fear grips Duncan for the umpteenth time that day, ’I….don’t know.’

‘You’ve had two weeks.’

‘Someone else plans events for me.’ The panic is evident in his voice, but Duncan can’t calm himself down. He twists his fingers together, ‘My Mom or someone. I don’t do this kind of thing for anyone.’

‘Well it’s time to toughen up, cookie.’ Jerome starts cracking eggs into a pan. ‘If you don’t do it tonight, I’m telling her.’

‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’

‘Yes.’

Duncan groans, ‘Fine. Tonight I will do it.’

The bathroom door opens, Y/N emerging first in just a towel. She smiles at Duncan, before catching Jerome’s eye. ‘Be out in five for breakfast, thank you so much Jerome.’

The Salesman winks back at her, ‘Sure thing. Just no Round Two with Jimmy boy in the bedroom.’

Her cheeks flood with colour, her eyes skipping too Duncan. The spark of jealousy is there, but not as strong as before, as if the tip of the knife has been dulled.

Duncan offers her a small smile, ‘When you’re out, can we talk?’

Y/N frowns, ‘Never good words, Duncan.’

‘I promise it is.’

She nods, ‘Sure. I’ll just-’

Jim appears in the doorway. A towel hangs low on his hips, exposing that perfect V sculpted from so much swimming and surfing. He flicks his wet hair out of his eyes, droplets dancing on his chest. ‘Do I smell bacon?’

‘In the oven.’ Jerome supplies, busy slicing peppers.

Duncan tears his eyes from Jim to help with breakfast. From behind he can hear the shuffle of Jim as he shuffles into the spare bedroom while Y/N makes her way to Duncan’s.

Jerome eyes him over the omelettes he’s got on the go, ‘You don’t get mad, seeing them like that?’

‘Like old times.’ Duncan says, pouring orange juice into four glasses. ‘You get used to it and cooking for four.’

There’s a slight pause, the absence of Michael echoing in the air.

Duncan presses on, ‘Besides, Y/N sleeps with me every night. It’s only fair Jim gets to spend some time with her on their own.’

‘Seems like things are back to normal than for the three of you.’

‘It will never be normal without Michael.’ Duncan blinks, having spoken before he realises it. He brings the glasses onto the dining table and rests his hands on it.

Jerome brings over the plates, ‘Well you said it. Not me.’

The weight of his words drags Duncan down.

He misses Michael.

It’s not that surprising. Not really. Michael has been there since Day One, a couple days after Duncan was released from prison. Together they scraped Duncan’s life back together, Michael giving Duncan a senior position with Kineros before the Media Mogul had enough to win back his empire. But Duncan cannot overlook what Michael has done. Every time he sees Y/N, sees that bump and how Jim isn’t functioning properly out of fear and desperation. He cannot forgive him for putting the two people he loves through hell.

Maybe that is what Michael will always do.

He is the Antichrist.

Jim emerges first. His denim jacket is strung over one arm as he takes a seat at the table, ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘More like thinking about one.’

Jim’s eyes flick down to his lap, ‘I miss him too.’

‘We all do.’

When Jim’s eyes flicker up again there’s something defiant in them. ‘It doesn’t change anything.’ He spits, ‘I won’t kill him when I see him, I won’t do anything stupid but I’m not having him near my kid.’

‘That’s your decision to make.’ Duncan nods, he knows it isn’t his place to fight Jim on what the beach boy thinks is best for his child. Duncan takes the seat opposite Jim and waits till Jerome is out of earshot before speaking. ’Does that mean…the plan is off?’

‘I…don’t know.’ Jim’s fingers run over his plate, ‘I kinda made a promise to myself not to do underhand shit again. Trying to be a better person.’

The ring flitters through Duncan’s mind.

He has to tell Jim.

If he doesn’t, he’s just as bad as Michael.

Isn’t he?

‘You two seemed to have a nice bath.’

Jim smiles, ‘It was nice, if not punctuated with Michael.’

‘He’s everywhere.’

‘Always.’

‘I’m going to ask Y/N to marry me.’ The words rush out of Duncan before he can stop himself. ‘I have a ring, I’ve had it for about two and a bit weeks now. Made my mind up before you came back.’ Jim’s eyes burn into him. He doesn’t say a word as Duncan rushes through his words, ‘You have a baby coming.’ He says, ‘Michael has a baby too. ‘I….’ Duncan gulps, ‘I have nothing. There’s nothing that ties me to her. To all of you, not in the same way. Nothing that meaningful or official. You’ll always be together because not only do you both adore each other, but you have a child to care for. I….I need something like that too. And the only way I can think to do that is to marry her-’

‘Okay.’

The air is punched out of Duncan’s lungs. ‘What?’

Jim’s eyes are soft. The softest Duncan has seen them in a very long time. His hand reaches out across the table and rests over Duncan’s. ‘I can’t imagine how hard it is for you. Seeing Y/N pregnant. You knew before anyone else and you’ve done nothing but respect her and me. You’re a good guy, Duncan.’ Jim presses his lips together, his eyes becoming glassy. ‘I know you’ll give her the life she deserves. I hope I can continue to be part of it, God I need it so bad. But you should marry her. You deserve each other, so…you have my blessing. If that’s what you want.’

Tear tracks drop down Duncan’s cheeks, he sniffles hard unable to keep himself in check. Jim stands and crosses round the table, Duncan stands too as Jim pulls him in for a hug. Duncan holds his Beach Boy as tight as he can, taking in the scent of jasmine lingering on his skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t cry.’ Jim orders, ‘Ask her, today. You put a ring on that finger and make it the most special proposal a girl has ever had.’

‘She still has to say yes.’

Jim smiles, ‘Do you think she’ll say no?’

‘Maybe!’

Jim chuckles, ‘She shares a bed with you, Duncan. You have nothing to worry about.’

They pull away as Jerome sets down breakfast. The Salesman is astute enough to make himself invisible, but Duncan catches his smile of approval.

Bastard must have been listening in.

‘This doesn’t mean you aren’t in her life.’ Duncan is quick to say it as he takes his seat again, ‘It’s just like before, before this whole mess. When we’d go to dinner all of us and get up to…things under the table and have fun and love each other. That’s all I want.’

‘Just with babies added in the mix.’ Jim supplies, making Duncan smile.

‘I guess it was gonna happen someday.’

Jim glances at Duncan’s bedroom door, ‘As for the plan…I think we keep it on the back burner and see if we need it. She’s only like…three months right now. Anything could happen.’

Duncan downs his orange juice, wishing he could slip a little vodka in. ‘If that’s what you think is best, I’ll respect your decision.’

Y/N emerges, her hair up in a towel as she takes her place at the head of the table. ‘Sorry! I was trying to get the hairdryer to work but the fuse has blown. It’s just growling at me and might explode so….’

Jerome is the last to take his seat. Together the four begin eating, Duncan shoving his omelette down as fast as he can to try and settle his stomach.

Jim is okay with it.

Jim said yes.

Now he has to do it. Now Y/N has to say yes too.

Her eyes slide to Duncan, Y/N putting down her knife and fork, ‘So Duncan. What did you want to talk to me about?’

——————————————————————————————-

MICHAEL

He knows the risk she is taking by seeing him. Michael has the evening set out with the most perfect precision. A finger straightens the wayward fork, just a centimetre off-kilter. Before it threw off the perfection of the night, but now, now Michael is sure that nothing can ruin the evening. He waits sitting in one of the chairs, his jacket pressed and freshly dry-cleaned. The velvet, so luxurious against his skin comforts him. The only friend he’s had for a month, the only touch he’s received.

Tonight that all changes.

Tonight he will remind her why she loves him.

Why it is he who she risks everything to see.

The knock comes and Michael opens it with a wave of his hand. No one can see him at the door, he cannot trust Shepherd not to have had her followed.

Y/N steps into the apartment, her eyes roving round the dark interiors. Everything is black marble and stonework, the high arched windows each a work of art. Michael rises to greet her, taking her coat in his hand. She hands it to him without giving anything away. Without the coat there, her baby bump is evident. Peeking through and smiling at him through her red dress. The dress Michael gave her, his beast purrs with satisfaction.

It proves she cares.

‘I am so glad you came.’

‘It isn’t right to deny you the chance to see your child.’ She says, ‘To have a part in the pregnancy.’ Michael’s arm beckons her to the dinner table, the single candle flickers and illuminates the two plates set out. The silverware glimmers as Y/N ventures closer, ‘This is very elaborate.’

‘You know that’s how I do things.’ He turns her round, capturing her lips with his before she can protest. Michael engulfs her, his arms holding her gently to him as he takes her breath away. He’s determined to give her his entire everything in one kiss. To show. To prove to her. When they slip apart, Y/N’s eyes are wide. She has that same look in her eyes she did that first night, when Michael stole their first kiss, sucked on those succulent lips and bruised them as he pounded into her.

‘That may not be such a good idea.’ She whispers in the gap between their lips.

‘Why, because of this?’ Michael lifts the ring, nestled on Y/N’s finger. ‘You must know I’d find out about it.’

‘It wasn’t a secret.’ Y/N pulls her hand, complete with the engagement ring out of Michael’s grip.

‘I’m happy for you.’

‘Don’t lie. She scolds, crossing to the dining table.

Michael’s jaw clenches, ‘Do I wish it was me, of course. But I understand Duncan’s desire to make you his. I know it all too well.’

‘You’ve made your claim pretty clear.’

Michael takes his seat opposite her, ‘Yes, I did.’ He uncorks the wine and pours a decent measure into her glass, Y/N holds it aloft in a practised manner for him. She makes sure to sample the wine with her engagement ring on show. ‘Let me guess, Harry Winston?’

‘You know my motto.’ Y/N smiles, ‘If it isn’t Harry…’

‘Don’t marry.’ Michael finishes, ‘You used to love singing that whenever we were in Barneys.’

‘Jim said I was spoiled.’ She says, ‘I think maybe he’s right.’

‘You are completely spoiled.’ Michael smirks, ‘But we can’t resist treating you. You’re so precious to us. I’d do anything for you.’

She nods, Y/N’s eyes flickering back round the apartment. She takes a long drink from her wine glass, ‘They’d be mad if they knew I was here.’

‘I’m sure they would.’

‘They don’t trust you.’ She offers, ‘But they do miss you. I heard them talking about you.’

‘I miss them too.’ Michael makes sure he is looking directly into her eyes, ‘They may think all I wanted was to put my child in you, but I want all of them.’

‘Seems like we all want the same thing.’

A silence falls as Michael rises to take dinner out of the oven. It’s takeout, he can’t cook for shit but he knows Y/N will appreciate it. He puts the steak with Bourderlaise sauce before her complete with new potatoes and asparagus. ‘I don’t think that’s exactly true.’

She doesn’t take a bite. Michael knows that Y/N knows him well enough to catch the subtly in his words. ‘Why am I here, Michael?’

Michael sighs, putting his own plate down. ’Straight to it then.’ He laces his fingers together, ‘I would give my life for you and our child. Do not think I don’t know my actions have caused me to be ostracised. Perhaps I was right to do so, perhaps I went too far. What I do know is the plan that Jim and your fiancee are planning. Something I will not let happen.’

She stares at him. ‘I am sick and tired of your drama, Langdon.’

‘Oh believe me, I would rather my own Grandmother rise from the dead before this happened.’ Michael’s tone has a bite, ‘You will hear me out.’

Y/N sits there, waiting for him to continue. She waves her hand, gracing him to do so. ‘When you check in for your next appointment, Duncan has the measures in place to abort my child-’

‘Our child.’

‘Our child.’ Michael nods, ‘It’s been in place for rather a while now, but ever since the Doctor’s last reports indicated the runt’s trouble with getting enough nutrition they’ve become desperate.’ Michael leans forwards, ‘When you next go in, they will drug you and remove our baby. They will kill it, the monster, to ensure Jim’s lives.’

He watches as the horror slowly expands all over Y/N’s face. ‘You’re a liar.’

Michael’s hand slams on the table, ‘I have NEVER lied to you.’

She’s stuck to her seat, completely frozen in place. ‘I…won’t let them.’

‘They won’t give you that choice.’ The Antichrist explains, ‘It’s already been decided for you. They’re going to force your hand.’

‘I can’t believe you.’

‘Because you thought they had changed.’ Michael nods, ‘I had hope for Shepherd. I thought he would be shining example for the rest of us. But sadly, it isn’t the case.’

‘I won’t marry him. I’ll fight it. I’ll go and challenge them about it right now.’ She stands, heading for the door. ‘Why would you go through all this just to tell me!’ She demands, ‘You have a dinner in place with fucking candles only to tell me one of my babies is going to be ripped from me.’

She tries the door, but it doesn’t move. Y/N doesn’t face him, ‘Unlock it. Now.’

‘I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen.’ Michael drifts closer to her. His hands ghost along her shoulders, ‘You see, my sweet Y/N I cannot take any chances when it comes to my child. You are potentially carrying the next Antichrist in your stomach, our child.’ His hands snake around her middle, resting over her bump. ‘I will make sure both your babies are born alive, happy, healthy.’ He coos into her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. ‘But you won’t be leaving this apartment again until after they are born.’

——————————————————————————————-

TAGGING: @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @langdonsinferno @pastel-cloudz @misslanabananaa @lovelykhaleesiii @lostin-fern @lvngdvns@ccodyfernn @asstichrist@yourkingcodyfern @langdonsdemon @satcnas @russianspacegeckosexparty @rosy-pugs @luxuryglitterhoe @langdonsoceaneyes @sodanova @petersfern-fics @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sassylangdon @confettucini @sammythankyou @wroteclassicaly @Sloppy-Wrist @Langdonalien @alexcornerblog @sevenwondr @queencocoakimmie @sojournmichael @langdonsdemon@satcnaskinlovecody @kylosbabe @americanhorrorstudies @xxpixiefromdixiexx @elenareginaauditore@dadddysprincessss@gremlinkween @readsalot73 @astir-bread @i-will-die-for-jim-mason@ms-mead @mega-combusken@hanhanxx@kahhlo@thelangdoncooperative @langdonsrapture@ritualmichael @cryptid-coalition @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @infernal-langdon @jim-mason2 @duncandimension @dark-jim @jimmlangdon @xtheinevitableprophecyx @moontheweirdpan @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @bbyduncan @divinelangdon @theladynymph@xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @dark-duncan @divinelangdon @codyswhore-blog @blakewaterxx

#the foursome #michael x jim x duncan x y/n #michael langdon #Jim Mason #Duncan Shepherd #the plot thickens #plot twists #oooooh #the runaway saga #the kinky quartet #the reign of Michael isn't over #it's just beginning #Michael Langdon x reader #y/n

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lovedsammy · 4 years

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head above water; [commission for samwinchesterlesbian]

This was the 2nd commission from @samwinchesterlesbian, still focusing on Sam + trauma and Casifer. I went with their instances of interaction in 11.14, 11.18 and 11.22 (I believe). This took forever because I’m sick as hell with the flu, but I hope it has some sense of clarity to it! Giving this a trigger warning for implied/referenced sexual assault (this is Lucifer after all) so please be careful when reading. Nothing explicit, I promise, but just in case. Also a lot of Sam & Cas friendship and Sam reflecting on Cas’s situation and paralleling it to his own.

In hindsight, Sam knows that he should have seen this coming. After all, what was the saying? The Devil always had a way of getting his due? Standing here with Lucifer before him, inhabiting Castiel’s body, Sam guesses that saying was more than accurate. He just stares in disbelief at his friend, or the man that he recognizes his friend anyway, when Cas starts, quite eerily, laughing. He should’ve seen it, then, the odd behavior coming from Cas. Because Castiel, while much less reserved than other angels, was mostly stoic in nature and not easily amused. So the laughing in of itself was an oddity, especially when Sam had just bared himself, heart and literal soul to the angel, offering to let him use his soul for the power to save his brother. Castiel was perhaps not only the sole angelic being that he trusted, but the only one he’d ever entrust with the safety of his soul. Cas was his friend. Cas would not laugh at his declaration of trust, no matter the situation. So, really, the alarm bells should’ve been shooting off at that instant. But it isn’t until he’s pressed against the pillar with Lucifer’s fingers curled in his shirt that it hits him. The fear, the absolute horror of it all, keeps him from trying to fight back. Even if Lucifer weren’t pinning him in place right now, Sam doesn’t think he’d be fighting, or running, for that matter.

He’s rooted to the spot in absolute terror.

“Lucifer,” He realizes, and saying it aloud only makes it more real.

“In the flesh.”

There’s an absolute glee in Lucifer’s eyes, a personal enjoyment he gets out of wearing Castiel, and more so the fact that he can use Sam’s friend to violate him. Sam’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute, and his usually quick brain was having trouble processing. Was Lucifer so desperate to escape the cage again that he took over Cas’s -- Jimmy’s -- body, even without consent? What did that mean for Cas? Was the angel just gone? Worse? Could two angelic beings even possess the same body? He doesn’t have long to think about it, because he watches the way Lucifer’s hand loosens on his shirt and instead moves lower, down to the base of his stomach. Sam wants to hurl, unbidden memories coming back to him: of Lucifer’s hands going even lower, touching him in places that made Sam want to dissolve into nonexistence. Of how Lucifer could force his body to react no matter how much Sam tried to fight it. Sam had never known as much shame or felt as dirty. He was tainted by the Devil, in every sense of the word.

He’s brought back to the present when a fist pushes its way inside his gut, past his clothing and skin and muscles and organs, down into the very embodiment of his being itself. The pain is unlike anything he’s ever felt on the physical plane. He can vaguely remember Cas doing this once before when he was soulless, but it hadn’t been on the same level. Cas had been gentler, kinder, not intending to harm. But Lucifer… he was the opposite. Sam’s body remembers then, with the forceful limb inside him, the countless years and decades that the Devil had done this on a different realm, over and over again.

The body remembers what the mind forgets.

Sam throws his head back and screams.

He’s not really aware now, not anymore. His soul is like a frayed nerve, inflamed and raw from the violent intrusion, trying to shrink away from the Devil. It scorches and burns and freezes all at once. A burning cold. It recognizes its torturer. Lucifer strokes it in a way that one might mistake as fond, except it’s more possessive than anything. The touch says, ‘you’re mine, and I can do anything I want with you.’ And sadly, his soul will remember every instance of this violation, even if Sam’s mind and body will not.

When Sam wakes, Lucifer is still in front of him, on his knees, his face closer than Sam’s comfortable with. Sam can’t help it -- all of his bravery leaves him, and he puts his hands up placatingly, attempting to plead, skirting back as much as he can. “No, no,” He whispers. “Please.”

But it’s not Lucifer. It’s Cas, who is fighting to reign Lucifer in, to hold him back. Sam feels a sting of betrayal when he learns Cas voluntarily let the Devil in, but he tries to convince Cas to eject him all the same. Because of course it had gone that way, right? Lucifer prided himself on ‘consent’ but that was only after he’d found a way to play on the insecurities and doubts already there, and taken advantage of them. It was dubious at best, and… well, Sam knew the worst. He’d experienced it. Castiel’s intentions had been good, so of course the Devil had preyed upon those and convinced the angel to let him in. That part was done and over. What mattered now was not that Cas let Lucifer in, it was encouraging him to cast him out.

“You have to fight, Cas,” He tells the angel. “Eject him now!”

Except Cas can’t. He’s already using every bit of his strength to protect Sam. And in any case, they needed him to save Dean. Sam would have to find some other way to get rid of Lucifer, at least for now. And when he gets his chance, he catapults Lucifer far out of their vicinity, drawing the angel banishing sigil in his own blood.

The reprieve does little to ease Sam’s troubled mind. He feels like his entire foundation has been rocked. Lucifer was walking the Earth once again.

Holy fire and an entrapped Cas - it felt like history was repeating itself. But it is Lucifer still wearing his friend, whose cocky grin he sees when the vessel turns to face him and Dean, unperturbed by the flames surrounding him. Sam fights down the shudder when they lock eyes, and squares his shoulders, features determined. Castiel was trapped inside his own body with the Devil for a room - well, mind - mate, and Sam knew firsthand how much of a terror that was. Even if Castiel didn’t realize it now, it was, and Sam wasn’t going to expose him to more of that than he already had been. Sam circles the Devil, still somehow managing to feel like prey rather than a predator, still the victim despite Lucifer being the one restrained. That’s always how it was. No matter how much power Sam obtained, Lucifer was still stronger. He never deluded himself into believing otherwise. There was no beating the Devil.

They’d thought that maybe, just maybe, they could reach Cas long enough for him to expel Lucifer. Unlike Dean, however, Sam knew Lucifer’s games, and even though Cas was apparently staring right at him, body jerking as he fought to keep control, the younger Winchester hadn’t believed it was him as quickly. Lucifer liked to play with his targets before he pounced. Chances were he was just pretending to be Cas, continuing to string them along. The warding was beginning to fail, too, which would leave them without protection.

Not even Crowley also taking a dive into Cas’s body could expel the Devil. The hold that Lucifer had on Cas was just too strong. Sam no longer has any capacity for feeling bitterness or anger at Castiel -- all he can feel is sadness and empathy. How useless was the angel feeling, how unsalvageable and unneeded, that he’d no longer try and fight the epitome of evil residing inside of him? Sam knew that feeling well, too. Just one more thing for himself and Cas to bond over, he guesses.

And when Amara takes off with Lucifer as her prize, Sam releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. And he’s far more ashamed to acknowledge that the relief of being away from Lucifer overwhelms the depths of concern he has for Cas.

And he hates himself for it.

Rescuing Lucifer from Amara is just rescuing Cas, plain and simple. Or that’s what Sam tells himself. He’s doing this because it’s necessary, and the pliant body he’s got slung over his shoulder in support is still the body of his friend. It didn’t matter who was currently in control. He can feel the chill emanating from the vessel, and inhales through his nose to calm his breathing, and keep his body sturdy. He knows that Lucifer can feel it, the way Sam’s heart races, the way his palms go clammy with anxiety, but luckily, for once, the Devil says nothing of it.

When they finally get back to the Bunker, Chuck - God - smiles sadly at Sam when he stands outside the door of his occupied bedroom.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” He says, placing a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry. He has no power here.”

Except he does, Sam wants to insist. He has all the power in the world. It didn’t matter that the Devil could physically hurt him. Every second that he was within Sam’s vicinity, every second that he walked free, was a demonstration of his power. He was inhabiting Sam’s friend, and now his bedroom, the place that Sam felt safest in. The place that Sam let Cas in to. Lucifer knew that. He had to. This was just how Lucifer was – he exploited Sam’s vulnerabilities, took away the things that made him feel safest. He didn’t want Sam to feel safe, not even in his own home. Not even with God present.

Later, when he bypasses Sam on the way to the library, Sam tries to make himself seem smaller, pressing himself into the cold wall to let the Devil pass. Lucifer pauses mid-step, smiling in the way that makes Sam’s skin crawl.

“I’ve gotta say, your bed is extremely comfortable, Sam,” He practically purrs. “No wonder Cassie enjoys it so much. It smells just like you.”

He laughs when he glimpses Sam’s traumatized expression and saunters off again, his grace creating a soft, crisp wind about the place that only Sam can feel. It’s intentional, and it works.

Sam stays pressed against the wall until his heart is no longer trying to work its way out of his body and his legs feel solid again.

#samwinchesterlesbian #sam winchester #sam and trauma #sam and ptsd #spn #supernatural #*mine #sam and lucifer #samcas #kinda

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