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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years

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Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #2

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Second Billy Russo one-shot featuring one nasty citywide blackout. But really, it’s just a matter of perspective.

Warnings: S.M.U.T., language.

Synopsis: What happens when a major blackout hits the city of New York, and you find yourself stuck with Billy goddamn Russo in an elevator, your least favorite person under the sun? Well, you’re about to find out.

Feeling cold winter wind bite at the bare skin of your calves, you mentally curse yourself for zapping that pair of tights, now peacefully resting at your place on the kitchen table. Pacing back and forth in front of a posh building, gleamed with secretive whispers of for-glamorous-crowd-only, you keep squeezing your phone, waiting on Karen to show up with a fervency of a Christian awaiting for the second coming of Christ.

Oddly enough, the metaphor quite fits: through the glass doors of the apartment complex you make out polished wood floors of a foyer that could accommodate hell of a lot of sinners and a graceful mirror-like doors of an elevator that probably go all the way to heaven.

Why Karen has chosen this 12,000-square-foot executive lifestyle hub, a dramatic and tasteless atrocity, to hold Frank’s surprise birthday party is beyond your understanding. Even though you only arrived ten minutes ago you already miss your loft in Brooklyn, where everything feels warm, spacious and familiar.

Karen is running late, but what else is new. As much as you want to help her with the finishing touches, there is no way in hell you’re going up there all alone. You frown as you wonder for a second if there are already people up at Billy Russo’s penthouse quarters, because you’d rather freeze to death than find yourself one on one with the man. It’s been so long it has become a running inside joke among your close circle of friends - with you and Billy locked in the same room, the only way either of you is getting out is in a body bag.

Still, despite of their big mouths, you love your friends. So you make an effort to care about almost everything and everyone they hold dear.

There are, of course, exceptions. Tired of waiting outside in the cold, with a deep sigh, you enter the building. After a brief hesitation, you force yourself to push the elevator button and once it arrives, you step inside, inhaling a pleasant, sugary smell. Even if no one has arrived yet – in New York people tend to be late, just to make everyone think they have a life – you’d simply make yourself scarce and hide out in Russo’s bathroom until Karen or Curtis finally decide to show.

Just when the doors of the elevator are about to slide shut, a deep, raw voice calls out to you :

“Could you hold the doors for me please?...”

Driven by the sense of civic duty and by sheer curiosity, you press the necessary button. Little do you know, one look at the man’s face would make you want to singlehandedly shut them if needed, with his head smashed in between, his brain leaking out his ears and onto the floors.

Here he is. Your almost everyone. Your exception.

The first thing you see is, of course, his toned chest, wrapped in a neat white shirt that probably costs more than this goddamn building, and a hell of a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. His eyes, deep bottomless black oceans with glimmering flakes of ice, narrow as soon as he spots you, the muscles in his strong jaw chiseling.

“Y/L/N,” he breathes out in a badly masked annoyance, as he stumbles into the elevator, nearly slamming his right shoulder into your frame.

“Russo,” you retort, rolling your eyes. Out of all people attending the goddamn party, it’s with The fucking Pretty Boy that you somehow happen to share the elevator ride.

The last thing you want is to deal with Russo’s narcissistic antics and inferiority complex. The last time you crossed paths with him, you ended up bitching at each other for thirty minutes straight, making nasty side comments to each other until the all-American self-made jerk has finally crossed a line and you smashed a huge chunk of Curtis’ birthday cake into his face.

So yeah, Russo and you aren’t exactly buddies. And you remember exactly why.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today,” surprised at the fact that Russo dares to attempt a small talk, you turn to stare at him blankly, second guessing how exactly he is expecting you to react.

Russo meets your gaze head-on, his eyes nearly begging you to start an argument.

Geez, you’re taken somewhat aback. Someone’s got their panties in a twist.

Your last chance to escape a long, torturous ride with the person you dislike most in the world goes out the window just as the doors of the elevator finally slide close.

“I was before you showed your face,” you fire back after sizing him up and turning away. From the corner of your eyes you notice Russo’s expression, like someone has just shit on his face.

“If youl keep looking at me like that the lunch in my stomach will turn sour”, you add, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors.

3 – 4 – 5….

Russo huffs contemptuously at your comeback, hatred that his body’s emanating hitting you in nauseating waves.

“Charming, as usual,” Billy states bitterly, showing mercy for your lunch for some reason and immediately looking away. Choosing to ignore whatever his problem is with you today, you fish your iPhone out of the Balenciaga bag, wanting to check whether Karen has shown any sign of being alive. Lightening up the dim screen and steadily fighting your desire to spit in Russo’s face with a booming Fuck Off!, you dial Page’s number, silently begging her to pick up.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” Karen answers on the fifth beep, her voice a little too thin, betraying an emotion you can’t quite place. Page quickly clears her throat before continuing. “You’re….uh…. You’re at the party yet?”

“Hey to you too,” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion, worry digging a hole in your lower stomach. “So you’re not yet at the rave that you’re yourself throwing?... Classy, ” your eyes still glued to the switching numbers, you try to ignore the way your skin ripples, feeling Russo’s eyes piercing through your head. Surprised at your own angst, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the jerk’s presence entirely.

“Gee, I take it you stumbled into Russo,” Karen’s guess seems all too perfect, and you give Billy a suspicious side look. “I asked him to go fetch candles for the cake because I am already late as it is... I sure as hell hope he did not invite any bimbos to the party tonight, because I know how much you…”

“…thank you, Karen, you’ve made your point!” you blurt out as you try to contain the blush you know is spreading across your cheeks. Every time Karen speaks, she’s loud and confident - there is no doubt Russo heard every single word. “Listen, we’re in the elevator, I’ll shoot you a text when we’re….”

…at his place. The words never leave your lips. What you do let out is a yelp when your entire body jerks, the world spinning before your eyes. Your iPhone falls flat on the floor as the elevator comes to an abrupt stop, the building’s lights all going out simultaneously just as you lose your balance. When you’re about to fall back on the cold and dirty floors, you vaguely register strong hands snake around your waist, keeping you in place. It all happens in what feels like a millisecond, smooth and so frustratingly natural, that without even thinking twice about it, you go with a flow. Back in the vertical position, you blink rapidly as a few emergency lights turn on, casting a dim glow on the confined elevator space and your palms, pressed against Russo’s rock-hard, lean chest.

His scent immediately engulfs you, a subtle mix of oud and hickory spices, and you suddenly realize you’ve only been this close before once, save for the moment you smudged a piece of cake all over his face.

As you catch on Karen’s distressed voice, coming from the phones’ speaker, you fight off the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As soon as they’re dealt with, you use your hands to push away from Russo’s dangerously enticing body, uncomfortable with the thoughts that circle around in your head.

And just like that, whatever it was that you shared just for a second, this moment, is gone. You pick up your phone, pressing it against your ear, as Billy backs himself against the wall, groaning and facepalming at the same time, the reality only starting to hit him from the looks of it.

“Guys? Helloooo? What the hell happened?!” Karen’s voice comes and goes, the service shitty on whatever floor you’ve stuck.

“Karen!” you exclaim, low key panicking. “Hey, Karen, we’re alright, we’re just stuck in the goddamn elevator!”

You press your free hand against the other ear in an attempt to hear Page better.

“She can’t do anything,” you flash Russo an irritated look, ignoring his words.

“Okay, listen you two, I’m going to call the building’s security or the fire department or whatever so they can try and get you out before you bite each other’s heads off. Meanwhile, I suggest that you sort out whatever the hell is going on between you two, because I won’t be held responsible for two deaths when I barely had time to enjoy my relationship with Frank. Understood?”

Something in Karen’s tone makes the horror of the situation finally dawn on you.

“Fuck,” you groan, running fingers through your messed up hair. You can almost swear you hear Russo echo your words. “Yeah alright, it isn’t like we have much of choice anyway. I’ll see you later then,” you say before giving Russo one of your trademark glares. “If I’m not behind bars for a homicide by the time help arrives”.

“Don’t worry”, Karen responds rather cheerfully. “I’ll bail your ass out.”

As soon as the call ends, heavy silence settles in, so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

“Do you think the dynamic duo planned it?” Russo finally speaks, referring to Karen and Frank, without any doubt, as he leans against the wall and crosses his strong arms across his chest.

“Sure, they planned a fucking blackout. Your denseness never ceases to amaze, Russo”.

Upon the hearing of your unceremonious comment, Billy narrows his eyes, watching you, sporting a glower fierce enough to put the fear of God in anyone.

This is sure going to be a long wait.

******

The silence in the elevator is deafening. It’s so quiet, Billy swears he can hear the dust move in whirls, its thin layers disturbed by your heavy and impatient breathing. With your cheeks red and your eyes darting all over the elevator, you breathe in and out. It probably takes every once of your self-control not to grab him by his hair and smash his head against the elevator panel, repeatedly, till the fucking thing can function again.

Billy watches you fume silently in your corner, the question he’s been asking himself for ages threatening to fall off his tongue.

He hears you sigh again, as you wipe tiny beads of sweat from your forehead, and he knows. He just knows that this is his chance to get some answers. Actually, he couldn’t have found a more convenient time and place to demand some kind of an explanation from you – at least, now, you have nowhere to run.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/L/N?” Russo’s voice cuts the silence like an nuclear bomb going off. He can feel your entire body shudder as you turn your head in his direction, your eyes widening a bit, as if you’ve just acknowledged he was here the entire time.

Billy knows exactly what to expect from you, and as you confirm his expectations, he starts to regret his attempt at a heart-to-heart talk with you.

You roll your eyes before crossing your hands over your chest, your stare blank but determined.

“Please,” you huff, “I don’t hate you, Russo. Hating is exhausting”.

“Exactly,” Billy picks up almost immediately after you’re finished talking. “Why waste all that energy?”

You look at him, chomping on your lips in annoyance.

“I said I don’t hate you,” you repeat stubbornly. “In order to hate you I’d have to be emotionally invested. And I’m not. If you must know, you’re an asshole, and it’s just that I have zero tolerance for assholes”.

For some reason, your answer makes Billy chuckle quite heartily, as he turns away and slides down the elevator wall to sit on his ass. Spreading his legs some, he stretches his long arms and puts them on top of his knees, his head pressed against the cool wall.

“Something funny?” still standing, you narrow your eyes at him.

Russo bites on his lips in order to keep his outburst of emotion in, and shakes his head, like you’re hopeless and he’s done with you. This makes your blood boil in your veins.

Arrogant little fucker.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” your tone is dismissive and calm for the most part, but it suffices to wipe the smirk from Russo’s face.

“Why bother?” he asks bitterly, his black eyes sparkling in the red light. “You probably have your head filled with bitchy comebacks that you’ve been preparing for this kind of situation. I’d rather you keep your mouth shut and we spend time stuck in this hot box in silence”.

Before you even realize it, you push off the wall of the elevator, your eyes blazing.

“Excuse me?” you hiss. “You are the one asking me to fucking talk! And when I do, you’re surprised that I actually have balls to tell you the truth, unlike all those Barbie bitches you spend your time with, getting off at the sound of them saying how awesome you are”.

Russo’s jaw drops open slightly. He definitely didn’t expect you to push back, but he should have known better by now.

A real Ballbuster, aren’t you?

“So this is why you’re always such a bitch to me,” Billy feigns revelation, his lips stretched in what can only be described as a devilish grin. “Is this because of that night in New York two years ago? When you had to ruin everything, without even telling me what the fuck was wrong?”

The way you watch him, unblinking, biting the inside of your cheek lets Billy know he has just hit a nail on the head. He doesn’t know what he’s expected from you, but it definitely wasn’t nothing; and that is exactly what he’s faced with.

You don’t speak. You blink a couple of times, hanging on to your composure, probably even mentally counting to ten... For a moment there, Billy thinks you really are going to kick him in the balls and thus justify the nickname that he’s long since given you.

But it’s like you don’t even see him anymore. Turning your entire body away from him, you stare at the closed doors, peeling off your jacket, hot leather sticking to your arms.

Billy’s watching your every move, taking in your body slowly and you can’t help but feel exposed – vulnerable. When his eyes meet yours, he asks:

“Why?”

His voice is stern, yet calm, and you bite on the bottom lip, your stomach churning.

Both of you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“It’s not important,” you finally speak, your voice steadier than you thought it’d be. “No one gives a damn anymore”.

“I do”, Billy’s voice rolls over you like thunder, your skin tingling at the sound. “I give a damn. If it wasn’t important, you wouldn’t take every opportunity to chew me the fuck out when I’m around”.

He stands up in one gracious move, and makes a couple of steps in your direction, closing the space between the two of you. The smell of his cologne hits your nostrils again as he finally rests one of his arms on the wall behind you.

Staring into his pitch black irises, you still hold your ground, not moving an inch.

“What did I do?” Billy whispers, his lips itching closer to your face.

“What didn’t you do!” you throw both of your hands in the air, making Russo back off instinctively. Your mind is reeling, and you suddenly realize that all the shit you’ve had brewing inside of your head because of Russo for so long has got to spill out. You’re a bit surprised when you see a flash of relief momentarily grace Billy’s stare, but you brush the thought away quickly.

He wants to know why you hate him, well, the fucker is about to find out.

Billy watches you in what can only be described as an awe as you push towards him, until it’s his turn to back right into the wall. He’s about to ask what the hell do you think you’re doing, but the question is caught in his throat when you start to yell, finally letting go of all the anger you had bubbling inside for so long.

“How fucking dare you pretend like this is all some huge surprise to you?”, you’re full-on screaming now, and tears are ringing in your voice. “I thought we shared something that evening. I loved spending time with you on the roof, after everyone’s left! And I made it pretty fucking clear that night that I wanted you. I fucking told you so. I was waiting for your ass for hours, and a fucking prick that you are, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see you suck Madani’s face off the next day at the Homeland’s!”

God knows that this is a fucked-up situation. And as twisted as it is, your anger stirs something inside of Billy, causing his blood to flow south, straight to his groin.

“Have you any fucking idea what that felt like, with Madani and the others talking behind my back, the girl who was ready to spread her legs in front of Billy fucking Russo, and he didn’t even bother to take what was offered? Of course you don’t, because you didn’t give a shit. You barely looked at me, let alone spoke to me for the last two years, and now you dare asking me what did you do?!”

“You are insane”, Billy can’t help the harshness in his tone as he hears your ridiculous lies. As the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets them, but the damage’s done. You turn your head away from him, hugging yourself, ashamed of the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“I don’t understand,” he runs his fingers through his hair in desperation.

“Of course you don’t,” you huff, and quickly wipe your tear-stained cheeks. “You are so used to everything being offered to you.”

“Not everything”, Billy bites back, feeling irritated and helpless, because he is just so confused. “I texted you that night after you left the party telling you how much I, too, loved spending time with you. I even asked you out on a date for breakfast next morning. You never fucking answered.”

You stare at him like he’s grown a penis on his forehead.

“Were you that drunk?” you let out a bitter laugh. “I told you I’d have loved to, and I said that we could order in, and gave you my fucking address! Drop the fucking surprised act, Russo, you wrote me you were coming over! And of course you never showed. You left me feeling like a stupid whore, more so when I saw you kissing Madani on the steps of the Homeland Security next morning, out of all people!”

Confused expression slowly fades from Billy’s face. Something clicks in his head, and he looks like he’s finally assembling a puzzle on which he’s been working for quite some time.

“I’ve never gotten your texts. I checked twice that night… After Frankie brought my phone that I left at the bar, where Curtis, him and a couple of my Anvil guys were playing poker after the party…”

Silence is tense, and you can hear your ragged breaths join in an odd kind-of harmony.

“...Madani was with them, wasn’t she?” your voice is barely a whisper, when you finally figure it out.

“And Madani was there with them, yeah”, Billy repeats, still struck. “Unbelievable. The bitch hacked my phone.”

How dared she take his phone and violate his privacy like that? How fucking dared she meddle with something so important to him?

The next twenty minutes pass by slowly, the only sound coming from the confusion within the building. Both Billy and you don’t speak, letting this new discovery sink in, before he finally breaks and says:

“I’m an asshole.”

You look at him questioningly, and he can tell you're distancing yourself from him.

“I just saw you laughing with Curtis that morning when you showed up at Homeland, you looked so happy, and you didn’t even look at me, I was… hurt,” he confesses, staring into the ceiling. “I acted like a goddamn fool, and for that I am sorry”.

“It’s fine,” you answer almost immediately, avoiding his gaze. “Whatever. What’s done is done. It’s been two years, I honestly couldn’t care less”.

And there it is. Billy can see it now. The mask you wear whenever he enters the room. He isn’t going to buy it, not this time, when he’s finally gotten you to let your guard down a little, when you’ve finally admitted how hurt you were… When you’ve finally admitted you cared, for this entire time.

“You’re lying”, you shiver as Billy reaches out, his hands sliding up your arm, until his fingers grip your elbow. He manages to draw you closer to him, his mouth nearly caressing your ear as he whispers the words to you.

When you turn your head, ever so slightly, you catch his black eyes that burn into yours, and the rough grip of his fingers tightens on your hipbones.

How…? For how long has he been touching you like that?

When Billy’s name escapes your lips, it comes out in a breath, your tongue and lips caressing every syllable.

“I’ve been tortured for two years, thinking about how my name will sound falling off your lips,” Billy whispers, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face. “The way your pulse goes crazy when I touch you like that,” his lips hover over a sensitive spot next to your jawline as he speaks, “tells me you don’t mean it. Tells me that you care.”

Billy’s lips press against the tender beating just below your ear, and the sensation is overwhelming. You moan involuntary, as your skin catches fire, your hips bucking into his.

“I want it slow,” he says, his voice hoarse, but his hungry hands, running down your sides and squeezing your ass, tell another story entirely. “I want you to feel just what you have been missing”.

Heat pools in between your thighs in answer to his words, bare millimetres separating your lips. You take a second to look into Billy’s eyes, glassy, his irises so dark they’re indistinct… Burning rooms filled with dense smoke.

Billy meets your lips halfway, soft, full and demanding. He slips his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you, that he swallows greedily. His hands fist your hair, as he deepens the kiss, biting on your bottom lip.

It’s a feverish and emotional kiss, and Billy could pass out from the relief of feeling your mouth on his. He even fucking dreamed about this moment. Granted, in his mind this was never happening during a citywide blackout in an elevator, but it wasn’t as powerful as it feels right now, either.

He takes in every movement of your tongue, massaging his, every gasp falling off your swollen, reddened lips, and he’s so hard his pants might fucking split. The things get worse when you wrap your hands around his neck, your bodies pressed to each other in all the right places. Billy growls, something animalistic in the way he moves, when he grabs your hips again and lifts you up, pinning you to the wall.

The friction that results from your movements makes both of you moan, and you are suddenly glad you didn’t put that pair of tights on. Billy’s calloused hands slide up your thighs, your dress a mop of chiffon around your waist. When he presses one of his thumbs to that pulsating spot in between your legs, you swear under your breath; then he pushes your lingerie out of the way and draws circles on and around that swollen bud, making you whimper and bite his bottom lip so rough it surely must hurt.

“Please, Billy,” you gasp, and dig your nails in the back of his neck.

“Please what?” he asks, his breath hitting your collarbone.

When you don’t speak, grinding your hips on him, Billy growls again.

“You want me to fuck you raw, is that it?” your eyes go wide at his words, but your thighs part further. “I know, baby, I want that too. I need to feel you”.

Pressing your body into the elevator wall with his weight, Billy makes short work of his pants, letting them slide down his thighs. Quickly slipping a condom out of the pocket of his dark grey number, he tears the foil packet and rolls the latex on himself. Then he guides you gently as you lower yourself onto him, and you both gasp at the contact.

He bucks his hips to meet yours, and the feeling is exquisite. Billy cups your ass in his large hands, pushing his cock deeper inside of you, and your mind is reeling, as his mouth sucks on your neck so hard it’s sure going to leave a mark.

Billy circles his hips slowly in an attempt to find that spot, the one that will have you screaming his name in seconds. He nearly makes himself tear his gaze away from your chest, beads of sweat rolling in between your breasts. The shape of them is fucking perfect.

Your nails dig harder into his neck and that how he knows he found the spot he’s been searching for. His thrusting speeds up, and he can’t help but curse as your back arches into him. Your lips bite into his as you come undone, muffling your screams of pleasure.

Two more thrusts, as deep as they would go, and Billy moans, spilling into the condom.

Both of you are a panting mess, as you press your foreheads together. This is the moment the steady white light chooses to suddenly flick on.

“Right on time,” you whisper against his lips. You smirk at each other, and moments later it’s a full-blown laugh.

Letting you slide off him smoothly, Billy can’t stop picturing the way your body looked, pressed against his, as he wraps his silk handkerchief around the used condom and tucks it into one of the pocket of his trousers. He buckles his belt, never looking away. As you smile at him adjusting your dress, he cups your face and smashes his lips into yours, letting them linger.

Thank God for the fucking blackout, he thinks, lacing your fingers together, facing the elevator doors again. He turns his head to you though, because he can’t help the urge to stare at you, admire how beautiful you look with your wild eyes and smudged lipstick, still wearing the heat from his kisses and that rumpled dress…

Thank you for reading! Feedback and other blackout-related ideas are appreciated!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #ben barnes #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes oneshot #ben barnes smut #the punisher imagine #the punisher

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Chapter 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut, Will add more as apropriate

Summary: Gold is suddenly awakened from the curse, not by the fail-safe that he programmed into his mind, but by the unexpected presence of his long lost maid, with whom he fell in love well before Regina cast his Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin must now find a way past Belle's disbelief and fear. She is still under the influence of the curse. With the help of his dear - his oldest - friend, Gold seeks a way past obstacles so that he can rekindle the love which he rejected back in the Dark Castle.

The story is set in the same 'verse as The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, and could be considered a sequel of sorts.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 2 - The Lock On the Door

If anyone had asked, he couldn’t have said how long he sat there, spent, a lump in the darkness like an abandoned sack of potatoes, staring over the top of the revelers and into the sky. He watched the stars move, the moon set, and the horizon darken toward dawn, and still he didn’t move, lost in memory, and the pain of memory, and the ecstasy of one sweet moment he denied himself… denied her.

Finally, as the flickering embers of the bonfire collapsed into a glowing, almost neat circle of color against the darkness, he reached out to find the handle of his cane, and hauled himself to his feet. Then, one limping step after another, made his way down to where the Cadillac was parked.

At that moment he was simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other to make it to the car. Then, in the car focused on the steps necessary to safely drive a vehicle such as this, the juxtaposition of his former and his current personae warring inside of him, the familiar and the unfamiliar.

One thing remained true in both worlds - Rumplestiltskin - Gold was a man of power.

By the time he pulled up onto the driveway of the pink Victorian, the maelstrom inside of him was so great that he was all but ready to take up his cane and smash anything breakable within reach. The imagined gratification of bringing the handle of his cane down on the mailbox, the trunk of the car, the rear windshield, with its melodious sound of splintering glass, the tail lights, the windows at the side…

…the soft expression that was there, barely a heartbeat, but there in Belle’s eyes. A second chance…

The desire to break things melted like ice in the midsummer sun, and Gold sat, breathing hard from the exertion of mere thought. He had gripped the steering wheel as though it were his lifeline. Slowly, he forced himself to release his grasp, and then get out of the car. He walked, with seeming infinite care, up to the house, and in through the door as soon as he had it unlocked. Then, without even waiting to see if it closed behind him, he lowered himself into a chair just inside the lounge, and put his head in his hands.

He didn’t think he had any more tears inside of him than those he’d shed with Jefferson. Yet, as he thought on Belle, on all that he’d - that they’d - lost when he sent her away from the dark castle, and on the emptiness of his life until the moment he took Belle’s hand, he wept for it all.

It was long into the morning by the time he emerged, exhausted, from his despairing self recriminations. Although there were things he knew he needed to do - even on the day after the Miner’s Day Festival - he also knew that he would not be at his best without some rest. Even a little would help. So, he slowly climbed the stairs toward his bedroom, stripped off the gold brocade jacket, which was now in need of a good dry-cleaning, peeled himself out of the rest of his finery, and fell exhausted into bed, where he dreamed, strange and knotted dreams of past and present interlaced and with a warring warp and weft.

It was a late morning by the time Gold woke, and for all that he’d had so little sleep, he felt remarkably well rested and, more importantly, clear headed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and made himself a mental checklist. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Gold got out of bed with a spark of hope in his heart, which he took with him to the shower, where he hummed softly to himself; a tune that his aunties used to sing when they were spinning, or better yet, baking the meat pies he loved so much. He stopped suddenly in the middle of soaping his chest and stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought, so happily and peacefully, of his aunties. It made him wonder how long it had been since he used the memory to draw back the power of his magic. He shook his head at himself, and smiled, feeling so full of love in that moment it was almost painful, but it was not love for his aunties, it was love for Belle, who had unlocked all of the kind wonders inside of him…

…a flicker of light in an ocean of darkness…

…and for the first time in longer than memory, that thought didn’t hurt him to the core.

The first order of business for the day was a short stop at Granny’s and then on to the hardware store. It would be remiss of him not to fix the lock on the door to the library apartment, especially since he noticed it hadn’t closed properly the day before. What kind of landlord would he be if he didn’t attend to the safety of his tenants? The hopeful spring in his step had nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Miss Marchland again. Not at all.

He smiled as he passed the library and saw the sign stuck on the door declaring the public building closed for the day. That meant that Belle would be home, and he would have the opportunity to… apologize for whatever it was that had caused her to run off at the Miner’s Day Festival - and a part of him, a small part hoped that it was not because she remembered their life together and had not forgiven him for sending her away. The larger part hoped that he, his intensity as he had remembered everything, had simply spooked her, and she didn’t yet remember. That way he would have the chance to court her properly - if she would give him the time of day.

His impulse pulled at him to climb the stairs, once he had the outer door unlocked, and knock on Belle’s door, but no. He could not force his company upon her, so instead, he set to work on the lock. He tried to make sure that the action of the catch was as smooth as silk and closed first time, every time. Hadn’t he promised Belle forever?

He knew the thought was a kind of loophole. She had promised him forever, but what he had denied in the Enchanted Forest he embraced as the truth. Forever was a flow of time that looped both ways, and surrounded them both. He smiled and leaned down one more time to finish reattaching the catch-plate to the door.

He was so focused - or perhaps so lost to his surroundings - that when the sharp cry came from behind him, followed by the discordant jangle of keys hitting the sidewalk, he almost echoed it with a cry of his own surprise. He covered the slip, however, by reaching for the keys, and straightened up before he turned and found himself face to face with Belle.

“Miss Marchland,” he greeted her, using all of his self control to appear calm and collected. He gestured behind him. “I was just working on the door. Seems a little attention was necessary to ensure it closes properly.”

“Well,” he watched as she punctuated her own greeting with a deep breath, he guessed, to compose herself in kind. “Thank you, Mister Gold. I appreciate it.”

The slight pink already creeping into her cheek was delightful, alluring, and he couldn’t help but tease gently as he said, “Well, we can’t have just anyone walking up to the apartment without invitation, now, can we?” He raised an eyebrow and was more delighted than he had been in many a long year when she returned the gesture. In another life, he might have thought she was flirting with him, but there, he dare not hope for it.

“No indeed. There’s no telling in what state they might discover me,” she said, and the pink in her cheek deepened to flush of red. It warmed him deep within.

Ever the gentleman, however, he did not want to cause her discomfort or embarrassment. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll be out of your hair before too long.”

He was about to turn back to be sure he had indeed finished when she completely derailed his attention by snapping, “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening with Paige?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Paige,” she began, then added, “Grace,” and his heart lurched with an almost painful hope. Did she remember, then? “The girl that helps me in the library.”

“Yes,” he said, his heart sinking when he realized that she was simply using the girl’s cursed surname. “I know the girl to whom you refer. However, I fail to see what I should have told yo—”

“Oh, drop it, Gold! You knew, and you said nothing!” The fire in her eyes brought back the painful memories of the last time he had seen it, and he almost stepped towards her; almost moved to protest his innocence, and tell her how wrong she was. Her next words snapped him from the memory of it, and he closed his mouth on the words that were about to reach out to her. “That poor girl has been… maid and… nurse, and… who knows what else besides. I could have done something, could have helped. Instead you pretended there was nothing wrong, and let it all continue. And for what!”

“Be… very careful, Miss Marchland,” he rumbled, part in annoyance at her challenge, but the greater part in warning for fear of what she might stir up, should Regina decide to oppose her right-hearted desire to help poor Grace. “You know very little of which you speak, and none of the harm your interference could—”

“Interference?” He winced at the incredulity he heard in the tone and pitch of her voice. “Only you could think of offering help as interference. You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“No, Miss Marchland,” he said, trying, by his words, to convey the meaning of his warning, without openly making accusations in the street. “I am a man that simply knows how, and when to best take sides.”

“Take sides?” He frowned as she threw up her hands, and the pitch of her voice grew higher yet. “This is a child’s life we’re talking about, not some meaningless argument about… parking restrictions on Main Street.”

“Indeed,” he said and nodded his agreement. “Which is exactly why I have acted as I have.”

“Done nothing, you mean,” she spat. “At least you didn’t try to deny you knew what’s going on. At least I’ll give you that.”

He said nothing to counter that accusation either, and she made a sound of derision, before she stepped forward, obviously meaning to push past him as she finished curtly, “Excuse me, I have cleaning to do.”

He caught her elbow as she did, and stepped in closer to her as he held her against the open door. For just a moment at least, his eyes met and held hers in an uncompromising stare as he repeated a warning, his mouth almost against her ear.

“Everything comes with a price, Miss Marchland, so you need to be very sure how much you’re willing to pay.”

She held his gaze still longer, as if searching for something within his eyes, and he held his breath, willing her to find what she sought. After only a moment though, her face clouded with anger and she snatched her arm out of his grasp, pushed past him and left him watching after her as she mounted the stairs toward the apartment.

With a sigh, and no further excuse to loiter at the door, he closed it softly, and hanging his head, began to walk away. She was right, of course. Even before he awakened, he knew what was happening to Paige - to Grace - and who was behind it, of course. As much as he opposed Regina and her hold on the town of Storybrooke, as much as he had always stood in opposition to her, he never did anything to help that child, who now turned out to be the daughter of his oldest, dearest friend. He felt ashamed, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. He should have acted.

He continued walking toward the pawn shop, and pulled out his cell phone as he went, dialing the number that he knew by heart, but only now knew that the man he’d known as a friend for all this time, had been in his heart for so much longer.

“Rumplestiltskin…?”

The sound of his name, his true name on Jefferson’s lips, even through the artificial sound of the phone, brought a smile to his face, though it was a sorrowful one as he thought about all that he and Jefferson had shared.

“Can…” he cleared throat as his voice cracked a little, “Can you meet me at the shop? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

He could almost hear the hesitant frown on the other man’s face as he answered, “All right, I’ll… head that way.”

“Thank you,” Gold said quietly, “And Jefferson—”

“I’ll see you in a little while,” Jefferson cut him off, and disconnected the call before he could say any more.

He spent the intervening time between then, and when the bell above the door sounded to announce his friend’s arrival, cleaning and polishing every item in one of the glass display-cases. He was agitated, and even that mundane task did little to quell his nervous energy.

“I think you missed a spot,” Jefferson raised a cheeky eyebrow, and made a pantomime of polishing the top of the case with the sleeve of his coat.

“Funny,” Gold answered dryly, making Jefferson chuckle.

“What’s so important,” he asked as the chuckled failed, “that you had to drag me all the way into town.”

“An… apology,” Gold answered, hesitation drawing out the words, and making Jefferson frown.

“There’s nothing—” Jefferson began, but Gold interrupted.

“Grace,” he said. “I should have—”

Jefferson shook his head, and craved softly, “Don’t. There was nothing you could have done. Regina—”

“I should have done something.”

“And what!” Jefferson asked, beginning to pace in agitation of his own. “She would never have let you interfere with whatever reason she has to punish me.” Gold’s heart broke as Jefferson swung round to face him, stopping dead as if he hadn’t been pacing at all, and ran his hand through his hair, leaving the front even more mussed than usual. He let out a huff then. “She has no reason to punish me… save perhaps spite. She had already separated me from my daughter. Trapped me in Wonderland, where—”

He stopped suddenly, as if whatever he had to say was some great shame, and Gold stepped toward him, took a tentative hold on his arms.

“Where?” he prompted, his tone tender, full of the worry he had for the man, but Jefferson shook his head.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

“No one blames you, Jefferson,” Gold told him, his voice low, soft, compassionate.

“They should!” The Hatter suddenly cried, throwing up his arms and breaking Gold’s hold on them. He paced away again, then swung an accusatory glare his way. “She begged me - pleaded with me - not to go, but no… my arrogance, my certainty that one. Last. Job…” a sob that became a shiver, then a tremor that shook his body. “If I had listened. If I had stayed,” he continued in a whisper, “Grace would still have a mother. We’d still be a family. She wouldn’t be trapped, living a hell, with a withered hag as a jailer.”

Gold knew Jefferson was referring, not to Cloe Grace, but to Mother Trude, the ‘neighbor’ supposedly looking out for Grace, where the woman the curse had cast as her mother could not.

“I can fix this,” he whispered.

“No!” Jefferson cried, snatching at him and hauling him close as if to shake him like a rag doll. “Rumplestiltskin, No!”

“You can have her back. Your Grace.”

“She doesn’t know me!” Jefferson released Gold, and unbalanced he teetered back until Jefferson steadied him, but then The Hatter threw up his arms again. “Not as her father. As far as she knows, her papa was taken away when she was small. Ripped away from her by the authorities for gods know what!”

“Jefferson…” he tried to interrupt the man’s agonized tirade.

“That’s her reality. All she’s ever known in this world.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gold said softly, when Jefferson’s anguish burned itself out. “Nor in the way she has to live now.”

“You think Regina wouldn’t find some way to torment her to punish me if anything about the life she inflicted on Grace changed? Especially if she knew you were involved… even if she doesn’t know you’re awake?”

Gold shook his head, but couldn’t find the words to disarm Jefferson’s justifiable fears.

“And if she finds out!?” Jefferson’s agitation rose again, and he filled the space around him with desperate gestures. “No… Rumplestiltskin, no. I… I can’t… I…”

Through Jefferson’s flailing, and over his shoulder, Gold saw the shadow of a figure moving past the front of the shop, pausing for a moment by the door as if the person would come inside. No one did, but Gold had recognized the figure none-the-less. He would know her anywhere.

“It may now be out of either of our hands,” he said, and watched as Jefferson turned in time to see the shadow move away from the door.

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke au #angst #romance #eventual smut

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alias-b · 4 years

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Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts. Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

They say she saw It first.

They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

They say she felt no fear.

A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake.

Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

“Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing.

She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

“Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

“From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

“Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it.

Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game.

After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

“Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

“Yes.”

Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

"Who are you?"

"Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

Big eyes full and empty.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

She said nothing to that.

“Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable.

The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

“You’ll know.”

Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home.

Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

This girl she ignored was all she had left.

“Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

“You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss.

She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

Down.

Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples.

A gloved hand curled into hers.

“Am I dead?” She asked.

“Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

“Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

“Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

"Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

“I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin.

She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

Existed together in one space.

Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

“Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

“Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

Except love, she thought. Except desire.

Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

“Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

It was a soft prayer.

He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart.

A squelch.

Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions.

A scar thickened.

Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue.

A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

“Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

“Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

“We were built to last forever.”

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise imagine #mine #writing

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twittytelly · 5 years

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An Unexpected Gain

Chapter One – Lines of Destiny

Colin Shea X Female Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is my super late contribution to the lovely @mrs-captain-evans‘ 2500 follower writing challenge. My prompt was I think I might have made a big mistake. This is gonna be two-parter, hope you enjoy and congrats on the followers @mrs-captain-evans.

Summary: You're pretty sure that your neighbour is benefiting more from your arrangement than you are. But an unexpected discovery puts everything into question. Some angst, but you should know that I like to fluff it up.

Warnings: Sexual references, swearing, unplanned pregnancy.

Mood board by @imanuglywombat

You were sure you had set the timer to three minutes, but the thing is, three minutes feels like an eternity when your life may be about to be turned upside down. However, you couldn't bring yourself to look at your phone to check, praying that you could stay in this state of limbo forever.

You tried to distract yourself from the nausea that was plaguing you, hoping that it was the nerves that was causing it. But you didn't have to think about it for too long, as the echoes of your phone alarm bounced off the bathroom tiles. Your destiny calling you. You stood up and walked to the counter, wondering how something so small could be so intimidating. Taking a deep breath, you picked up the piece of white plastic and looked down. Two lines. Positive. Pregnant. Fuck!

You didn't realise your knees had given way until you had reconnected with the floor, but you were in too much shock to care. How could this have happened?

Well, you knew the answer to that. Colin. You had a friends with benefits type arrangement with your handsome neighbour for around six months now, although you were certain Colin was the only one benefiting from it.

It had all started when you had accidentally gone on a date at the same bar where his band were playing. You had met your date on tinder, where he had been friendly and charming, flirtatious without being inappropriate. It was the first tine you had met someone from the app and you were nervously excited about where it could lead.

There was only one word to describe that date: disastrous. It had quickly become apparent that the charming, flirtatious banter was a facade. It was clear from the way his eyes spent more time roaming your bare legs or fixed on your chest than on your face that he was only after one thing; and when he wasn't being a complete perv he was an asshole to the bar staff. Your only saving grace was that you could drown him out with Colin and his band. You had always enjoyed their music and while Colin was the textbook definition of a player, you could not deny that he was dangerously sexy. From where you were positioned at the bar Colin had a perfect view of the fiasco that was unfolding before him. Between songs he had made eye contact and offered you a sympathetic smile.

However this was when things went from bad to worse, as this was just when the asshat decided to grace you with his attention. He quickly launched into a jealous tirade calling you every name under the sun. Yet when the band stopped for a break, he had put his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. While you were assaulted with the stench of alcohol he suggested how he wanted the night to end with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Before you could think of a decent excuse he slurred something about needing a piss and stumbled towards the toilets. Grabbing your bag and jacket, you were about to escape when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. Looking up your eyes were met by Colin's ocean blue eyes.

“I don't want you walking home alone,” he whispered into your ear. “If you wait out in the green room, you can walk back with me.” Grateful for the concern you waited backstage with the other band members' significant others. When the band had finished the second half of their set, Colin was able to excuse himself from packing away equipment and walked you back to your shared apartment block, with is arm placed protectively around your shoulders.

Once you were home you invited him in for a drink to say thank you. There the friendly chit chat turned into blatant flirting, and before you knew it you were straddling his lap, your lips brushing against his. It wasn't long after that you found yourself lying beneath him in your bed as he turned your car crash of a date into one of the best nights of your life.

The next morning Colin offered to use his knowledge on digging dirt to run background checks on any of your potential future dates - and if those dates still did not go well you could find solace between his legs.

You had then found yourself spending more and more time together as he screened your suitors; but as you had gotten to know how kind, sweet and funny Colin was, you found yourself using the tinder less and less. You knew that sooner or later your feelings would get in the way of your arrangement, but you had also noticed that you could not remember the last time you had bumped into a woman doing the walk of shame as you left for work in the morning.

Despite this Colin did not show any signs of reciprocating your feelings, and you reasoned that if you revealed them to him then you could loose his friendship and the arrangement. You pretended to yourself that you were fine with being Colin's booty call, but deep down you knew that you were torturing yourself.

But you were both always so careful. What was he going to think? How was he going to react?

Thank u, next

Tag list: @whiskey-cokenfanfic

#mrs-captain-evans writing challenge #mce writing challenge #colin shea x reader #colin shea #what's your number #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfiction #captain america #Steve Rogers

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mind-reader1 · 6 years

Text

Boys Day Out TRR/ES Crossover)

This is for @meeraaverywalker‘s November prompt challenge day 12: Trust

Warnings: None, maybe some cursing but I don’t think so

Word Count: 2,327

TRR/ES Crossover: Jake and Drake decide to try and bond through the outdoors! Are they going to kill each other, destory the duchy, or maybe destory the world in the process? Who knows! ;) Thanks for the inspiration for this description XD @sophie-summer

Check out the prequels to this: Double Trouble and Family Vacation

A/N: This references one of my fics Pantygate (ES) and a collab fic The Twins of La Huerta Series (ES)

Jake had finally adjusted to Cordonia time and Taylor had been encouraging him to go out and ‘bond with his cousin’. Honestly, he thought it was just a ploy to get rid of him, so she could go shopping and visit the spa with Emma and some of the other ladies from court she'd met at the ball.

“It will be fun Jake! You and Drake just need to spend some time alone and get to really know each other.” She rubbed Jake's shoulders in bed. They'd been out on horseback all day and Jake was so sore, of course, Tay who had never been on a horse easily adapted to it, as if she'd been riding horses her whole life, Jake not so much.

“This is our vacation, Princess, why can't we do a couple’s spa day or something.” Jake wasn't a pampering kind of guy, you'd never catch him dead at the spa unless his wife begged him and even then, it'd be a stretch. If he was suggesting it, you knew he was desperate.

“We have three more days here, there will be plenty of ‘us time’. Besides, when you say 'us time’ you just mean sex. There's plenty of time for that once you get home from hiking. There's the shower, the bed, the closet,” Tay winked at the mention of the closet eliciting a low chuckle from Jake as he spun around pinning her onto the bed as she squealed, “or there's right now.”

“Promise?” His lips brushed hers and she nodded.

“Fine. I guess one day won't be so bad.”

**************

“What do you mean it's just Jake and me tomorrow?” Drake spit out his toothpaste staring incredulously at his wife.

“Taylor and I are going with some of the other ladies to the spa tomorrow, you and Jake are going to have to find something to do together.” Drake groaned rolling his eyes, that was the last thing he wanted. He'd rather go to a karaoke bar with Maxwell, and he hated karaoke, especially with Maxwell.

“C'mon, Walker. Just because we had a good time at the ball the other night, doesn't mean we need to spend a whole day together.”

“I think it'll be more fun than you think Drake. You both like whiskey, you're both cynical, you both like the outdoors. Try to have fun? Please?” She looked up at Drake through her lashes, hands pressed against his chest, snaking up towards his hair. She was wearing the white cotton pajamas she wore the night of their wedding barely covering her breasts and butt. She knew Drake loved them, she always knew exactly what she was doing when she wanted something from him. He could never say no to her.

“I promise I'll make it worth your while when you get back.” She winked.

“I guess a hike won't be too bad. Maybe if he's winded enough he'll shut the hell up for once.” Emma chuckled and pulled Drake to bed with her.

“That the spirit, Marshmallow.”

“He almost ruined nicknames for me. You're lucky you're so cute.” He teased, pulling her on top of him for a soft kiss that he deepened.

*************

“So, what's the plan, Charming?” Jake came strolling into the kitchen, tossing his wife a bagel with a wink that Drake chose to ignore, he didn't want to know what that was about.

“Well since you're so big on the outdoors, I figured we could go for a hike. There's a nice trail out in the mountains of the duchy.”

“Sounds good. What are you and my wife up to today, Queenie?”

“We're going to the spa for the royal treatment. Have fun on your hike today boys! Maybe if you finish early enough we'll see each other at the bathhouse.” Emma gave Drake a pointed look, they hadn't been back to that place since the unity tour, he was going to do everything he could to make it back in time.

“Absolutely. We should get going then. Bye ladies.” They kissed their wives goodbye, Drake practically shoving Jake out the door. They took his truck to the base of the mountain trail; the way Jake was walking Drake didn't think he'd be interested in riding horses there and leaving them while they hiked probably wasn't the best idea.

They started on the trail and Drake took a deep breath, the smell of pine and the crisp fresh air filling his lungs as they walked, the only sounds birds chirping, wind rustling the leaves and rocks crunching under their feet. Jake pushed ahead, practically skipping, not bothering to look back and see if Drake was keeping up. Jake deftly navigated the slippery rocks of a small creek they came across, way ahead of Drake who warily came up to the stream. He stepped carefully, but to no avail, the second rock he tried to step on was too slippery and Drake went tumbling into the stream with a loud crash. Jake turned back to see Drake picking himself up out of the water, spitting out some moss. He chuckled and watched as Drake slinked out of the creek, soaking wet.

“Take a nice bath?” Jake teased, Drake rolled his eyes and trudged forward, the sound of water sloshing in his boots.

“This is beautiful, Charming. Reminds me of La Huerta, where I met Taylor. It had everything, kinda like your duchy. Sparkling lakes and oceans, striking mountains, dense jungles. You got it made pretty good, Cuz.” Jake kept babbling on and on, Drake tearing his hair out behind him. How was Jake not huffing and puffing by now? Drake was, and he was an avid hiker! He was fit! They finally reached a peak and Jake stopped, much to Drake's relief. He plopped down on a rock and pulled a water bottle out of his bag, sucking it down like he was in the middle of the desert.

“Do you ever shut up?” Drake got out between breaths. Jake turned to look at him, a little dejected.

“Sorry, Charming. Guess I got ahead of myself. Talking about Princess does that to me.” Drake felt like an ass after that, Jake worshipped the ground Taylor walked on, she had to be a saint to put up with him. They seemed good for each other though, when Drake thought about it, there really were worse people.

“No, I'm sorry. I just enjoy the peace and quiet when I'm hiking.” Jake nodded and took a seat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling off the edge. They sat there, finally in silence just letting the sounds of nature echo around them. The wind picked up and ruffled Jake's hair, even picking up the edges of Drake's hair.

“We should start heading back if we're gonna meet the gals at the spa.” Drake nodded and stood up stretching. They began walking down the trail, but Drake stopped suddenly, Jake slamming into him.

“Oof. What the hell?” “I think we're going the wrong way.” They definitely were, the cliff face hadn't been this narrow on the way up.

“You're the one who picked this hike, you telling me you don't even know where you're going?” Drake could hear the judgment in Jake's voice, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being right.”

“No. I just meant that this is the long way back, a little tougher. We can turn around if you're scared.” Jake smirked and held his hands out, he was going to take that challenge.

“By all means, lead the way Charming.” They continued on the path, it didn't seem to be going down the mountain, just around. Drake huffed in frustration, determined to find a way back down without turning around. As it got darker, Jake got more suspicious.

“You're lost! Just give it up already.” Drake stopped and shook his head.

“I'll find a way down it's fine.”

“Leave this to the pros, Boy Scout. I'll be able to get us out of here, but you need to trust me.” Drake scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

“I thought we made progress at the bar. Whatever. You seem pretty strong, how far you think you can throw me? How much trust am I working with?” Drake rolled his eyes again looking between Jake and the edge of the cliff.

“Well if I shove you off the edge of the cliff then pretty far I'd say.”

“At least I'll get down faster than you. I can send a rescue team back for you.” Again, with the big dick energy, this was getting them nowhere.

“If you're such an expert then, lead the way, but this is my turf and I think you should trust me.” Jake shoved past Drake, finding a small break in the trail, pushing through the trees they finally began moving down the mountain. The brush was thick, hardly any sunlight broke through the trees, Jake and Drake haphazardly winding through. Twigs catching their hair, scratching their arms and faces, both of them cursing every time they tripped over a rock.

“Ahhhh!” Jake turned to look for Drake, but he couldn't find him anywhere.

“Charming?”

“I'm stuck!” Jake looked down and saw Drake had stepped in some kind of muddy sinkhole, he was stuck waist-deep in mud. When Jake got over his initial fit of laughter he set his stuff down to help pull Drake out. After what seemed like hours, they'd hardly gotten anywhere, both out of breath.

“I think you need to lay off the whiskey and steak, Cuz.” Jake tried to joke to ease some of the tension, but Drake was not amused.

“C'mon, I want to get out of here. If you don't get it next time you're gonna have to leave me and come back.” Jake shook his head violently, standing up and taking a deep breath.

“I'm not leaving ya. Let's get you outta there.” Jake pulled with all his strength, his muscles taut, his feet sliding on the ground as he struggled to keep his balance. Jake refused to leave anyone, especially after Mike. Besides, even if they weren't each other's favorite person, they were family and family was everything to Jake. With one last final pull, Jake fell back, Drake was out far enough that he could pull himself out. Both huffing and puffing as they laid on the solid forest floor.

“We should keep moving,” Drake said, standing up, groaning as he looked down at himself. His pants were caked with dried mud, some of it had even seeped into his boots, nothing was safe from the mud.

“Don't know what your hurry is, Charming, don't think the spas gonna let you in looking like a swamp monster. Even if the girls are still there.” Jake chuckled, Drake turned away, so Jake couldn't see the corner of his lips twitching into a smile for just a minute.

“I know. I want to get this mud off.”

“Really? Tay is always going on about how great it is for your skin. Don't want to get premature wrinkles.” Jake goaded him. Drake shook his head, digging his keys out of his pocket, relief flooding him when he saw the truck. Jake's phone suddenly began blowing up since they had service again, Drake's dead, ruined by the mud. They'd been gone much longer than they had anticipated.

How's it going?

Have you killed each other yet?

We're at the spa, do you think you guys are going to make it?

Jake? It's been hours, why haven't you answered.

Jacob!

Jacob! Drake's not answering either. Where are you?

Jacob Lucas McKenzie! Where are you? We're both worried sick! Call me as soon as you get this!

Jake had missed calls from Emma and Taylor, his phone ringing again with a call from Taylor.

“Hey, Princess I just got you-”

“JACOB LUCAS MCKENZIE! Where are you?!” Jake held the phone away from his ear as his wife screeched into it.

“We got a little lost. We're back at the car now. We're fine. I'm sorry, Princess.” Drake assumed she relaxed since he couldn't hear screaming on the other end of the line.

“His phone is broken, I didn't do anything to him. Jake McKenzie guarantee.” They drove back in silence, when they got back, both women raced out to the car.

“What happened to you?” Emma stopped just short of throwing her arms around Drake who stayed outside covered in mud, Taylor hitting Jake before hugging him, grateful to see him.

“Took a mud bath.” Drake grinned at Emma, Jake chuckling to himself, his cousin's sense of humor finally coming out.

“What about your faces?” They were covered in scratches and a few forming bruises from the branches they'd run into.

“We took the scenic route home. That's what I get for trusting the 'survival expert’ to get us home.” Drake quipped looking over at Jake.

“I could've left you in your nice little mud bath. Good thing you trusted me.” Jake grinned, both women rolling their eyes.

“Go get cleaned up for dinner, you stink.” Tay kissed Jake gently and shoved him off towards their room. Drake tried to head towards their room to clean up, but Emma stopped him.

“You are not walking through here all muddy like that.” She looked at him expectantly and he shook his head. He was not about to strip and run through the estate in just his boxers.

“Walker.” He was begging with her, his eyes pleading. Taylor awkwardly left the room, going after Jake to make sure he got cleaned up.

“If you run fast enough, no one will see you. Besides, it's not like the staff haven't caught us in more...compromising positions.” Drake groaned and stripped as fast as he could, running through the estate in just his boxers, clothes abandoned on the porch.

What a crazy day.

Tagging: @notoriouscs @brightpinkpeppercorn @ooo-barff-ooo@leelee10898@princesstopgun@choicesyouplayandmore@sleepwalkingelite@roonarific @indigo39@skyila@speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis@furiousherringoperatortoad@findingdrake@sue9659@smritysriv@larryssunflower@likethetailofacomet@zaffrenotes@mrsdrakewalkerblog@agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you @cgd03 @emomoustache @sophie-summer @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie

#Jake McKenzie #jake x mc #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x jake #es x trr crossover #choicesnovemberchallenge #choices #cordonia #hiking #outdoors #cousins #es trr crossover #endless summer #choices endless summer #choices the royal romance #the royal romance

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northshorehealthandfitness · 6 years

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[caption id="attachment_65188" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photos (clockwise from top left): Big Sur International Marathon, Vermont City Marathon, Los Angeles Marathon, Grandma's Marathon — Duluth, Inc.[/caption] When it comes to spring marathons, the iconic Boston Marathon is always the pinnacle event of the season. But it’s not the only time runners around the country will lace up to cover 26.2 miles by foot and inspire along the way. These top 15 U.S. spring marathons (listed by date, from mid-March to early June, 2017) are all perfect opportunities for runners to prove there’s no such thing as a spring break. RELATED: Winter Running Guide: How to Run Faster by Spring

15 Spring Marathons We Love

[caption id="attachment_23693" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon Series[/caption]

1. Humana Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans Marathon

Location: New Orleans, LA Date: Sunday March 4, 2018 Keep the Mardi Gras spirit going at the flat and fast Humana Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans Marathon. It’s a big (and somewhat easy) tour through the Big Easy — with the party vibes of the French Quarter, the history of Treme and the natural beauty of City Park setting the tone. Like the many other Rock ‘n’ Roll events, expect a highly-organized race with lots of serious and just-for-fun racers. The only question is — will you stop for beignets from Cafe Du Monde before, during or after the run? There’s also a half-marathon, 10K and 5K taking place the same weekend. RELATED: The 50 Best Half-Marathons in the U.S. [caption id="attachment_65044" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Los Angeles Marathon[/caption]

2. Skechers Performance Los Angeles Marathon

Location: Los Angeles, CA Date: Sunday, March 18, 2018 Join more than 24,000 runners at the Skechers Performance Los Angeles Marathon, one of the largest marathons in the country. The point-to-point, net downhill course starts at Dodger Stadium (the oldest ballpark in the MLB) for a tour across La La Land, and finishes steps from the Santa Monica Pier. Along the way, keep an eye out for star sightings through the city’s vibrant neighborhoods including Echo Park, Hollywood, Beverly Hills and more. Fans of this marathon say it’s the awesome crowd support “from the stadium to the sea” that will make you feel like the real celebrity. [caption id="attachment_24167" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Yuengling Shamrock Marathon[/caption]

3. Yuengling Shamrock Marathon

Location: Virginia Beach, VA Date: Sunday, March 18, 2018 It might not be ideal beach weather, but the Yuengling Shamrock Marathon has welcomed a wee clan of more than 4,000 marathoners to its fast, flat resort town every St. Patrick’s Day weekend since 1973. The BQ (Boston Qualifying) course will take you past historic hotspots like Cape Henry Lighthouse and along the famous beach boardwalk. More than 22,000 other runners and walkers join in the rest of the weekend festivities — a half-marathon, marathon relay, 8K and “Leprechaun Dash.” Celebrate with a jig and a swig at the post-race party with live music, Irish stew and — what else? — ice cold Yuengling. [caption id="attachment_65045" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Boston Marathon[/caption]

4. Boston Marathon

Location: Hopkinton, MA Date: Monday, April 16, 2018 The Boston Marathon is the big leagues. It’s a pilgrimage for runners and often a lifelong quest to even qualify — because you’ve got to be wicked fast. Even after the bombing in 2013, Marathon Monday (which falls on Patriots’ Day each year), continues to feel like a city-wide party. Now celebrating 122 years, it’s the world’s oldest annually contested marathon. The 30,000 runners will once again head out to the starting line in Hopkinton, conquer the challenging Heartbreak Hill and finally, cross the iconic finish line on Boylston Street. RELATED: How to Run the Boston Marathon Like a Pro [caption id="attachment_24171" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Kemper Mills Fant Photography[/caption]

5. Foot Levelers Blue Ridge Marathon

Location: Roanoke, VA Date: Saturday, April 21, 2018 Like rolling hills? You better if you want to run the Foot Levelers Blue Ridge Marathon — hailed as “America’s Toughest Road Marathon” and featured on many race bucket lists. A group of 750 runners will face 7,430 feet of total elevation change over the course (more than any other road marathon in the country), with three huge climbs and descents. So how do runners endure the killer ups and downs? Because they know the most breathtaking views of the region’s mountains and valleys are (of course) best seen from the top. There’s also a half-marathon or 10K option available the same day. [caption id="attachment_65046" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Derby Festival MiniMarathon/Marathon[/caption]

6. Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon

Location: Louisville, KY Date: Saturday, April 28, 2018 And they’re off — the 3,000 runners at the Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon that is! Once they’re out of the gates, marathoners will take on the BQ course that includes a hilly section through Iroquois Park around mile 12 and a quick trot through the infield of the historic Churchill Downs. Spectators, we suggest you grab a mint julep and place your bets before the finishers come down the final stretch into downtown Louisville. The largest day of road racing in Kentucky history, this weekend also includes a half-marathon and team relay marathon. [caption id="attachment_65047" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Big Sur International Marathon[/caption]

7. Big Sur International Marathon

Location: Carmel, CA Date: Sunday, April 29, 2018 It’s no surprise to see Big Sur International Marathon, the largest rural marathon in the world, on this list. It’s been popular for more than 30 years, thanks to a stunning point-to-point course that runs along scenic Highway 1. It touches seven state parks, crosses the iconic Bixby Bridge and features 13 significant hills in the back half. Perhaps the 4,500 runners are too distracted by the sweeping Pacific Ocean views and Redwood forests to notice? With additional race distances suited for everyone (from the 3K kids run to a 21-miler) and plenty to do around the Monterey Bay area, we’ll add this at the top of our spring getaway list, too. RELATED: The 30 Best Marathons in the Entire World [caption id="attachment_65048" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Novo Nordisk New Jersey Marathon[/caption]

8. Novo Nordisk New Jersey Marathon

Location: Monmouth, NJ Date: Sunday, April 29, 2018 If you’re looking for a fast, flat, beginner-friendly and BQ-friendly race, then, “baby, you were born to run” the Novo Nordisk New Jersey Marathon. Not without a few sharp turns, this course takes you through a stunning stretch of the Jersey Shore. The race starts at Monmouth Park Racetrack and meanders through some small town neighborhoods before heading south. At the turnaround point, near mile 19 in Asbury Park, you’ll have the Atlantic Ocean views to take your mind off of hitting any walls. The crowds come out to cheer you on in the final stretch — along the boardwalk in Long Branch. The weekend’s events also include a half-marathon, relay and 5K. RELATED: 5 Running Tweaks That Took an Hour Off My Marathon Time [caption id="attachment_65049" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Flying Pig Marathon[/caption]

9. Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon

Location: Cincinnati, OH Date: Sunday, May 6, 2018 It started out as an idea scribbled on a bar napkin by some local runners in 1999. Today the annual Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon has reached new heights as part of one of the largest running events in the country. Nearly 5,000 marathoners will cover the beautiful BQ course which “flies” through the “Queen City” and over the bridges of the Ohio River — all with 150,000 enthusiastic spectators rooting them on. And what other race can claim a bacon stop at mile 15? The weekend also includes a half, relay, 10K, the Flying Piglet kids fun run and more. RELATED: The 10 Best Races That Are Fit for Foodies [caption id="attachment_65050" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Vermont City Marathon[/caption]

10. KeyBank Vermont City Marathon

Location: Burlington, VT Date: Sunday, May 27, 2018 If you’re going to run 26.2 miles through Ben & Jerry’s country, you deserve extra scoops at the end of the KeyBank Vermont City Marathon. And that’s not the only treat for the 3,600 marathons who take on the BQ course. The charming streets of downtown Burlington, sparkling waters of Lake Champlain and the Adirondack and Green Mountains set the scene. Shaped like a clover leaf, the race is very spectator-friendly. And runners, you’ll be thankful for them, especially during the epic climb at mile 15, casually referred to the “Assault on Battery.” There’s also a relay option available, if you want to split the distance (and share that ice cream). RELATED: 15 Fun, Fast and Beginner-Friendly Marathons [caption id="attachment_65051" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Newport Marathon[/caption]

11. Newport Marathon

Location: Newport, OR Date: Saturday, June 2, 2018 Whether you want to run your first marathon or earn a BQ, you can do it at the Newport Marathon in the heart of Oregon’s central coast. According to race officials, almost half of all 1,000 participants earn personal records (PRs) at the non-profit race. There’s only one catch: You better like oysters, because you’ll be encouraged to slurp ‘em down at miles 11 and 19 of the flat. You’ll also trek through some of the most picturesque neighborhoods and fishing villages along the bay, with only a few gentle rolling hills and one short steep hill (mile 4!) along the way. Then it’s flat to the finish, where runners earn the unique recycled glass medal. [caption id="attachment_65052" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon[/caption]

12. Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon

Location: Deadwood, SD Date: Sunday, June 3, 2018 The Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon has been called the “best kept secret in marathoning.” Well, we can’t wait to tell you about the invigorating point-to-point BQ course of the largest trail marathon in the country. The first 1.5 road miles start in the old mining town of Rochford and lead 500 marathoners to the start of the Mickelson Trail, through the land of the Lakota Sioux. Here they’ll cover a mix of small climbs and flat ground in the first half and a huge stretch of downhill (especially mile 19 to 20) before coming to the end of the trail. It’s not necessarily a fast course, but if you want the thrill of trail running (meadows, forests, babbling brooks and lots of mud) in a marathon setting, this race is for you. RELATED: 14 Trail Running Adventures to Try Before You Die [caption id="attachment_65053" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Steamboat Springs Chamber Resort Association[/caption]

13. Steamboat Marathon

Location: Steamboat Springs, CO Date: Sunday, June 3, 2018 For more than 35 years, the Steamboat Marathon’s warm hospitality has welcomed 500 marathoners to experience a beautiful BQ course along the Elk River. The net downhill course, with majestic views of the snowcapped Rockies, isn’t for everyone though. With rolling hills, steep descents and a five-hour time limit, it’s a tough one for walkers or those who aren’t used to altitude. But there’s also a half-marathon and 10K available. Everyone can soak up their accomplishments post-race with a dip in one of the area’s historic hot springs. RELATED: 15 Races for People Who’d Rather Walk Than Run [caption id="attachment_65054" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Grandma's Marathon - Duluth, Inc.[/caption]

14. Grandma’s Marathon

Location: Duluth, MN Date: Saturday, June 16, 2018 How can you say anything bad about Grandma’s? It’s a small town race, with big-time popularity. Since 1977, this annual race has drawn 9,000 marathons to the North Shore of Minnesota. From super organization, to the vast views of Lake Superior along Old Highway 61 (and 32 rivers, creeks and stream crossings along the way), to the enthusiastic crowd support, it’s easy to see why. The point-to-point, waterfront course is pretty flat — just a few gentle hills and one bigger one at mile 22 — so it’s a great choice for beginners, PR-seekers or those who crave a quick swim after the finish line. The weekend’s events also include a half-marathon and 5K. [caption id="attachment_65055" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Anchorage Mayor’s Marathon[/caption]

15. Anchorage Mayor’s Marathon

Location: Anchorage, AK Date: Saturday, June 23, 2018 With all the extra daylight to spare around the summer solstice, why wouldn’t you run a full marathon in Alaska? For many past participants, the Anchorage Mayor’s Marathon is a destination that’s well worth the trip. The certified course is a mix of bike trails, rocky gravel and paved roads that keep you and about 1,000 other runners guessing. Take in the natural beauty (and maybe a moose sighting or two!) as you meet people from all over the world — all coming together to spend the longest day of the year doing what they love best. On the selection process: We spent a lot of time reading online participant reviews and soliciting input from our own editorial team, as well as running contacts from around the country. When it came down to the tough choices, we went with picks based on positive reviews, reputation, popularity and the unique value they offer to the runner. We create these lists to not only feature some of the always-popular, bucket list races, but to shine a light on some newer, smaller or challenging races that offer the participant something off the beaten path. Originally published February 2014. Updated January 2018. Read More The Best Fall Marathons in the U.S. Why I Started Running — And Never Stopped 50 Running Resources for Speed, Strength and Nutrition

The post The 15 Best Spring Marathons in the U.S. appeared first on Life by Daily Burn.

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mebeingserious · 7 years

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(c.) End 2012 - Early 2013

- - #1

#Based On A You Story. Blinking cursor.

Peep my Doogie Howser blue screen. Peep my blue light. No bloc festivities, streamers, or tails to pin anything on. Pin that shit on yourself, B. Take responsibility.

“Pin The Tail” had a Max B verse on the original. Do with that knowledge what you will if what you will do is reimburse me for my strong miscellany-fact-brain game. I refined it through the arthritis of those on my personal Mt. Rushmore.

I’m unknowable, really. You should get to un-know me.

And it was an inside job, btw. Egged on by the peanut gallery, flipped the switch, gave you a parachute and some mumble-mumble about how the chlorophyll’s gonna be stunning.

I’m just another human cat, word to Grass Green. Don’t treat me like the grassy knoll. Leave them stones turnt all the way down.

But that “you” isn’t you, that’s you’s on you’s on you’s. UUU, if you will. Gotta not have it.

New swatch alert. Here. Peep the texture and the hues. That’s the interior.

Cam’ron in a Utah Jazz throwback staring back at me through a phone’s reflection. [||]. You right, you right.

Captain Quirk but the Captain Crunch Dog at the same damn time. Pretend it’s two months ago, though.

Your last.fm recent plays leave you vulnerable, if you think about it. I thought about it.

I need to remind myself I don’t do this for the little or the big dunns. Everyone needs to get their Lex Luger on from time to time. B.Y. Before Yokozuna.

So I say that to say this: “Can’t call it, might spoil it”

Performing tune-ups with some VBRs and possibly, 192s. You can only crash so many planes before you start frisking yourself in the airport.

Further and farther are in full effect. But then I remember “that’s when the money starts running” and Stoicism, and put it in hands I once knocked down.

- - #2

Spot ‘em, got ‘em. I got dirt on you, doggie.

But God made dirt and dirt bust your ass.

Or my ass. I know too much. Internal Spy vs. Spy.

I saw those stars. Had my radars up. Tangible air.

One minute it’s in the constellations, the next sixty-seconds it’s a “Superthug” if.

Hella.

No, not you. The other. But you? You’re putting together a 150-piece in the dark.

Me? S.O.L. S.O.S. But I’m like Private Ryan. So you can save that.

Oh wait, I forgot that motherfucker survived.

Anyways, haardships.

My window’s been closed but at least I have a window. But it’s lowkey amazing that a window is even a thing.

I just did what Game did with the coaching of the fat producer on ironing Dickies. But you don’t hear me, doe.

Do you hear me, doe? This is the Gawd.

He doesn’t take requests but he’ll play me, though.

But really, I did that. Sorta like what Kane said on “The Symphony.”

Anyways, indecision.

He who hesitates in peace is even worse.

The pyramids didn’t get built by throwing stones or sitting on them. But I fucked up when I entertained the E.T. theory.

I’m the man now, dog. But really, without the seven you’re not Sean Connery. You’re just…

Anyways, alternate universes. That exist in shared thought bubbles.

But that’s the only place they ever existed, nah?

But let’s thought experiment. Does that outcome satisfy?

Or is it just better than hearing a single echo against drywall?

I can give you advice on farther but my track record is a stumble out the blocks paired with a horizontal starting gun, finished off with a somersault. 1.0 - 1.0 - 1.0

Got gotted and spotted.

Need is whatever you think it is.

But try to take my arm and leg and I might be that shoe with the band between the big toe.

You can have a symphony composed of c-notes in that porcelain but if you don’t embrace that internal Hammer … well. Basslines don’t come across well in sign.

You can go on and be Big L’s Rocafella debut, but you don’t know voodoo.

But tangible is good. I mean, Tough Luv holds up pretty well eight years later.

I guess I misunderstood that originally. Or I tried to understand too soon. He was right when he said “…or rather me.”

- - #3

The last verse on “Pyramids” without the sonic context.

Strikes Back. In the Empire. They say it’s their favorite flick.

Swore my hand waved to me as it fell, in that “Hi, Hater” motion.

Took off that mask and it was a mirror. No disrespect but there’s truth to it.

Anton Chigurh in the guidance counselor’s office basically saying “heads or tails.”

Saw it with the old man. In the alt. section of the universe it was Batman Returns.

Trying to lucid dream about the Northwest in 1996, but I’m better off sleeping. And peeping those trees with the date emblazoned in a reddish orange beneath their stumps.

Subsidized Napoleon complex had me fighting on the wrong side. Got did like Waterloo.

Manila envelopes addressed to that British newspaper. Don’t you know this is the Empire?

Telepathy returned to sender.

Heard “boo” from that pocket-sized frame.

But ghosts only come for your wig when you turn your back.

“Whoa” ain’t me, that’s Black Rob.

Speaking of that song…

Come to terms with endearment.

You chose the ball and you joined me in breadth.

Another one chewing dead skin, dirt particles and textile fibers.

Carly Simon. Bet.

What came first, the wound or the egg that provided the shells that were stuck in the soles?

South West here like Northern OH. Something something “talent.”

Indecisive travel agent that forgot to build a plane.

I saw the white plates, the blue plates, and now they’re yellow. i.e. I’ve seen the Empire crumble.

Let an ocean talk for me.

What the fuck is portamento? Not worth it.

Waking up to a foreign vocabulary test. Appealing. No comprende.

Opted-in because I was loyal to the wrong things. Minus the fuckboy-isms.

He was the Pookie of venlafaxine.

Caesar: Judas.

Conversational anesthesia. Was on that Freud shit.

Liked the yellow yoshi that stomped and the one with wings.

And you can tell a lot about a man by how he uses a warp whistle. Button on the VCR.

Meant to hear Tiến Quân Ca in person but couldn’t. If he saw the inland, I wouldn’t.

Lucas Arts revisionist tip. Script = flipped. And now…

Telling the emperor “We don’t need to see all that.” I’ll say it.

And maybe worth it. But no capitulation. The sign fixed.

- Carly.

“You, Me, Him and Her” gets played twice.

The first one’s near Luxor, prolly.

Gut snitched.

Us couldn’t stop dreaming, then I couldn’t get to sleep. Both.

“I fuck around and have you sleeping underneath something”

But that last verse, though.

- - #4

Pop culture hustling and cocaine references are the way to my heart. My heart is sullen and abandoned; full of un-shatterable Pyrex-brand measuring cups.

Or is it. Racially ambiguous inquisition. Internal. In-terminal, I keep ticking. So, maybe occupied.

Don’t knock it. I’m taking out this time. To compose choppy sentences that stop before they start because I’m so non-fiction I might call myself Tumblr Game Tom Wolfe.

Looking back, YN really inspired me with his Letters From The Editor. But nah to that “Ha!”

Flirting with disaster because she sent me a flick. Y’all are too literal. Down to the ‘I’m so crazy.’

Meanings on top of meanings. Princess and the Pea. That now archaic Jay-Z and Kanye interplay. References need a new hard drive. They’re making that grindin’, too busy to stay up-to-date sound.

I’m not looking at your dues, I’m looking past you. Why are ghosts see-through but you can’t see through what you can see.

Peter Piper was too fucking picky. End of story. Citing Antwan Patton in MLA style. If you want the references, you gotta pay for this. I accept Juelz. Pay the pause forward.

Subtle is my subtitle. You can read or watch. An internet quiz will tell you what that means for you and your personality.

John on the run eating. But wasn’t gaining.

Acting like shenanigans in loosie, but there was no explaining.

No, no, no. I’m not you, rapper.

Jesus H. Pylori. The church of disrupted insulin function and latter day faints.

Glue where the flex be. Vampires that never heard about the smallpox blankets. Paul’s Boutique sample count. Dust, brother. Trying not to bite down.

That admittance, and the small BIC. Alluhdat.

Three letters. Now I feel alluhdat.

Maybe knowing in retrospect is the win. Like when they extend those legs and and hold their hands in a state-enforced half-hearted semi-prayer position saying “I hope this provides closure for your family.”

A & B convos. Split-tests. More like a two and eight.

Good things surface for those that hold elevators. Or something.

Lost the top about fitty-leven times. No lojack. Find it, then repeat. Dementia. Kojack.

No lolli. Point the finger, no Rollie. No handle, no bars. Just folly.

Was on that “If I die, I die.” Life Game Ivan Drago.

Try to be a fatalist. Unexciting Mortal Kombat finishers.

Marcus Aurelius darts onto the screen to kill the opponent with mercy.

No hip hop genius to help you. Y’all Nah Right sidebar. Newsy. Your quotient can’t save thee. Or thou. Or you. Let’s say you.

Because I’m like Jason Bourne asking himself about that one birthday party when he was an age that gets spelled out by the Associated Press. Hope unseen sequels don’t kill my simile.

We’re all trying to live facsimile’s meaning if you said it quick. Gender neutral, though.

Don’t, doe.

Because reflection requires dedication. Three’s ain’t always charming. There’s precedent. See the millionaire trying to kickflip.

I’m not a walking version of the back of the teacher’s edition history/sociology/psychology combo cost-saving textbook.

Slight of hand. Converse with it.

Phonte’s monologues on the last two from Get Back.

That’s the point. Nipsey Russell.

#writing #1-4

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