#and then i mowed the lawn because he stopped doing it ages ago and he sat and played video games | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

borathae · 2 years

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“Mornings with your husband are the best.”

Pairing: Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, pregnancy!AU, Smut

Warnings: domestic bliss, sleepy morning sex in spooning position, hand holding, some grinding, lotsa kisses and cuddles, unprotected sex, Tae is obsessed with her pregnancy belly, they are so in love :(

Wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: idk why but this story affected more than I wanted it to. This is without a doubt one of the most comforting stories I have written in a while 🥺 also this was lowkey inspired by @seagulljk who made me very soft for the ihyily!couple by voicing an idea like that once 😔💗

The morning is perfect. It is a Saturday. The sun shines into the room just the perfect amount. Nobody is mowing the lawn and that one construction site up the road is finally quiet too. Your housekeeper isn’t here today because she and her husband are on a holiday. Which means the kitchen was quiet too. And to top it all of, you changed your sheets last night and they still smell slightly of laundry detergent, now mixing with the smell of warmth and your shampoo.

You also don’t need to pee and your stomach isn’t protesting in annoying morning sickness either. It was paradise, actual paradise.

Especially because your husband's arm is snug around you and his chest is melted with your back. He is naked, matching with you because your nightly cuddle adventures leave both of you way too hot for clothes. Also being casually naked with each other is just so nice with him. There was never an annoying barrier of clothes between your body and his', just soft skin against soft skin, sharing warmth and providing comfort.

Taehyung is still sleeping, very deeply actually. He had such a stressful day at the office yesterday that you don’t blame him for literally being passed out still. They are currently developing their newest model of SUVs and it needs all of his brain power to work efficiently. So you gave him a very relaxing massage last night. Starting from his feet and working your way up his body. You didn’t leave an inch out, truly and really no inch was left out. Be it front or back. Taehyung hadn’t carried that much bliss on his features in ages.

You also gave him his own spa treatment afterwards, but he fell asleep in the middle of it, leaving you to wipe off the cucumber mask and kiss his forehead goodnight.

That was ten hours ago and Taehyung is still sleeping deeply. You don’t mind that he is, you yourself are drifting in and out of consciousness repeatedly. You like nothing more than that peculiar state between being awake and sleeping. The bed is so much softer in that state, his skin so much warmer and lying still feels a thousand times more relaxing. Also the constant feeling of waking up only to realise that you can continue sleeping because you have no plans for the day feels like a high in itself.

You were just in the state between falling asleep again and being awake enough to take in your surroundings when Taehyung shifts for the first time since last night. Not much just a little wiggle of his arm as he pulls it closer around you. You don’t know if he is waking up or merely changing sleeping positions, but you let it happen without forcing your brain to be more awake. Even if he wakes up now, he won’t want to talk to you in an instant either way because he is just as much a sucker for the high of not having to leave the bed as you are. He would probably continue snoozing either way.

Taehyung moves again, inhaling your scent only to then press a gentle kiss to your hair. You smile, but don’t do anything else. He doesn’t move afterwards as well, probably already asleep again. You drift off after a moment too, waking again twenty minutes later.

Nothing changed except that Taehyung's left nostril began to squeak each time he breathed. It's funny and makes you smile tiredly. You move your head back to make him breathe in loudly and then exhale again. That stops the squeaking and makes him squeeze you in his sleep. You feel warm all over. He is so cute. You are so freaking much in love with your husband. Yes, you need to call him your husband every second minute because it never gets any less exciting. Taehyung is your husband. Kim Taehyung with his handsome face and golden heart and addicting personality is your husband. You are married to him. You are his significant other. Husband and wife. Man and woman. Mister Kim and Misses Kim. Oh this sounds like the sweetest poem to your heart.

You smile and snuggle into him. Taehyung moves his head, the new position allows him to rest it on the side of your face and for his arms to close even more.

One arm is stretched out, fingers intertwined with yours. The other is draped over your waist, hand resting next to your face because that is where it fell naturally. Taehyung began resting his hand on your belly since a few months. It began in that one fateful night when you peed on a little piece of plastic and it showed two stupid little red lines twenty minutes later. You were crying and Taehyung was crying and it was one of the best evenings you ever had with him. Ever since that evening Taehyung began resting his hand on your stomach when he fell asleep and sometimes he also woke up with his hand still on your (now already round) belly.

Today wasn’t such a day, but that was okay for you because you like opening your eyes slightly to study his relaxed hand in your blurry, unfocused vision. It relaxes you because it lets you know that he is with you and that he is holding you and that in this moment you are safe and loved. You also just really liked his hands because they are hot, but you are too sleepy to think of that aspect right now.

Taehyung moves once again. A lot more than he did last time. His legs rub against yours as he wiggles them and his stomach presses into your back as he takes a deep and long breath. The kind of breath you know to be so instinctively his waking up inhale. He exhales in a soft hum, shaking softly as he flexes his muscles in the good kind of morning stretch. You let him, lying still and resting your eyes.

Taehyung doesn’t do much either. You know that he is awake because his free hand has found its way back to your belly, currently caressing it softly. He also began placing little kisses on the back of your head, making the softest kissy noises.

You just let it happen with a droopy grin on your lips and your body floating on relaxation. You never know with Taehyung anyway, this could be simply one of his awake phases and ten minutes from now he could already be fast asleep again. You are just going to see what will happen and accept whatever outcome gladly because whatever will happen is going to be nice and cuddly.

You manage to drift off to sleep again in those ten minutes, only waking up because of the tickling biting sensation on your neck.

You stir but stay still enough that Taehyung seems unaware of you being awake. Not much changed, his hand is still caressing your belly, his fingers are still intertwined with yours, his chest is still snug against your back and his warmth is still engulfing you. Two things however did change. First Taehyung has lifted himself enough that he can kiss your neck and he is currently nibbling on it gently. And second he is sporting the biggest morning boner ever, rubbing it against your butt and lower back.

Which can only mean two things. He is awake awake and you are slowly but surely getting horny.

So you stir, rolling back into him and eliciting a shaky exhale from him.

"Darling are you awake?" he tries just as you knew he would.

You don’t answer him, instead you roll your hips back. Taehyung whimpers softly, squeezing your hand.

"Wake up", he whispers, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear.

You could let him know that you have been awake for the last few minutes, but it's fun to rile him up. So you hum as if you were sleeping and stick your butt out. Taehyung presses himself closer, grinding his dick up and down your ass. It is so hard, his skin so hot. Oh it’s so exciting. He kisses your neck, sucks on it softly before he releases it with a breathy moan and kisses a trail up to your ear.

"Darling?", he tries, "darling wake up, I need you”, he begs cutely, bucking his hips into you. Goddamn he is hard. Another buck of his hips, Taehyung whimpers at the sensation, fingers squeezing your hand.

Okay now you are too horny to continue. He is so hot and you are so wet and goddamn you want him closer. You blame it on your changed hormones and his addicting presence.

So you purr and shift, rolling your head so you could look at him.

"Mornin' baby", you whisper, keeping your eyes half-lidded.

"Morning darling sorry for waking you", he says and pecks your lips.

"Mhhhm is fine", you murmur into the kiss before rolling your hips back.

Taehyung groans softly, fingers twitching on your belly. You chuckle softly, breaking the kiss.

"Horny?" you ask him.

"Yeah", he nods his head.

"Mhm good, me too", you murmur, sticking your butt out and lifting your leg slightly. You don’t need much preparation right now. Cuddling with your – excuse the giddiness – husband , has the effect of making you wet. You call it comfy horny and think it is one of the best genres of horny. Yes, there are different kinds of horny genres, you just invented that and also came to the conclusion that Taehyung can make you feel all of them.

Taehyung acts instantly, holding your leg to help you with it. His big hand runs up and down your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His lips are connected with your neck, sucking on your skin softly and making you sigh in the process. He angles his hips differently so he could grind his cock back and forth between your warm pussy, soaking his length in your juices.

"Baby you’re so warm", he whines. He loves morning sex, not only because it's romantic and he loves the sleepy intimacy of it but also because sleep makes your pussy so much warmer and wetter and also softer. He loves it, if other genres of sex weren’t so amazing with you he could solely run on morning sex. Yes, he just invented genres of sex and he came to the conclusion that you are the best person to experience all of them with.

“You feel so good”, you sigh, meeting his movements in slow rolls of your hips. His cock fits so perfectly between your folds, you could honestly climax just from the feeling of his length grinding against you, “baby you feel so good.”

You in return really love morning sex because it's romantic and sleepy and cuddly and also because your bodies warmed up his dick so good and he is always a little bit sensitive.

Just as right now when he drags his heated tip over your clit and literally has to mewl because it feels so good.

"Want to be inside you darling", he whispers.

"Want to have you inside me darling", you answer him.

"Can you help me?"

You reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and align it with your entrance. You push softly, making the first inch slip inside. Taehyung whimpers, you mewl. Another push, his length slips past the tight ring of muscle, making both of you moan in unison. This right here, this first initial breach where he finally returns and you welcome him, feels like nothing else. It’s addicting, makes you feel like millions of fire ants are crawling over your skin and as if a million more are dancing in your stomach. Taehyung would only agree, it’s the moment his cock feels so goddamn perfectly squeezed that he practically wants to cry because he feels so amazing.

“Keep going baby, keep going”, you encourage him in sighs of bliss, caressing his shaft softly. Taehyung takes over, slipping inside inch by inch. He goes slow, pausing in between to kiss your neck and caress your round belly. He is very much obsessed with it, if one hadn’t realised that yet. The last inch feels the second best because now he is finally connected with you by all he has to offer. His crotch is snug against your ass, his length so perfectly stretching you out and his lips have stilled on your neck for the pleasure was too great to concentrate on two separate things.

"Baby, oh darling", he moans, reaching to the front to touch your clit. He begins moving, rocking his length in and out of you slowly. No rough, hard grinds or fast, aggressive thrusts, he is giving you the best kind of fuck. The kind which is slow and deep and which makes you feel every inch of him over and over and over again until your body runs on nothing but him.

“How are you doing?” he asks you, voice shaky in pleasure.

“Amazing”, you moan and shiver, reaching behind you to pet his hair. He throbs inside you, squeezes your hand. He feels so good. He feels so freaking good when he can be so close to you. When he can feel your warmth. When you play with his hair and make his spine tingle. That is why he loves morning sex. Because he is so tingly and so freaking much in love with you.

"I love you", he whispers.

You turn your head, eyes spilling over in adoration.

"I love you too", you breathe, pulling him into a deep kiss.

You both moan, letting your lips and tongues dance with each other slowly as his hips continue rocking themselves into you. You feel so much warmer ever since he gave you his length. You know that it is not only because the sensations are raising your body temperature but also because being so close to him can get rid of even the deepest chills. And while you aren’t cold you still shiver. It just feels so good. His cock feels so good. His fingers on your clit feel so good. His kiss feels so good. He feels so good.

You break the kiss for the sole purpose of whispering sweet nothings to him.

"This feels so good. I can’t get enough of you."

Taehyung smiles, poking to tip of your nose with his own.

"Me neither, baby you have me. All of me", he whispers and moans. He finds your g-spot and begins rocking back and forth. He knows that he found it because you squeak and then tighten around him. He would lie if he said that the certain tightness doesn’t make him want to climax just that second, but he tries not to because he has a goal this morning. He has the goal of making you cum first and then using the addicting clenching of your heat to find his own high. This is without a doubt his favourite kind of orgasm. When you shake in his arms and make the sweetest noises. Oh feels his own high so much deeper in those moments.

"Is that nice?" he asks.

"Yes Tae, so nice", you mewl, letting your eyes flutter closed.

"Yes? Oh baby, I feel so good too", he lets you know and resorts to moaning afterwards.

You love hearing his voice. You aren’t shy about telling him that you have a thing for his moans. On the contrary you sometimes even order him to be louder for you because it turns you on so much. Today is no exception. His voice is still so raspy from sleep, so deep and sultry. It almost drives you insane.

Especially when his fingers feel so good on your clit. It sends a constant stream of warmth through your limbs and makes the feeling of his perfect cock even more intense. You know that you are close and so you braid your fingers in his hair and open your eyes slowly to look at him. His eyes are closed too, tranquil pleasure has laid itself over his ethereal features.

"Look at me", you order lovingly.

And Taehyung obeys, whimpering softly when his gaze meets yours.

"You're so beautiful", you whisper and smile. A moan slips past your lips, your thighs twitch.

"I love you", he answers you, writing it against your magical spot as he circles your clit. Your body tenses, your toes curl. That’s it. That’s the spot. Oh that feels so good.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Don't hold back", he encourages you.

"Taehyung…" you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed as your body dives into the warmth of your high.

The pleasure sits deep, seeping into even the most hidden fibers of your body and filling you up to the brim.

"Baby I’m cumming", Taehyung squeaks, finally letting go just as he wanted it to happen.

He is blissed-out, feels reborn, as if this right here is the meaning of life. He feels even more connected to you like this. You shaking in your high and helping him with his own. Taehyung is sure that those moments are the reason why you and him are so inseparable, why you and him fit together so perfectly and why he will never stop loving you.

You come down faster than Taehyung. Helping him ride out those last two waves of his high with gentle rolls of your hips.

Taehyung shakes uncontrollably just once from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Then he grows limp, collapsing into the pillows and pulling you so snug against his body it feels as if he literally wanted to absorb you.

"I love you so much", you say, squeezing his hand even though you long stopped shaking. He is squeezing you back.

"I love you too", he answers you slightly out of breath.

He is so dizzy and feels so good. You are so giddy and feel so perfect.

Taehyung stays inside for now, wanting to be close for a little while longer. You are glad that he stays close, it is so nice to be connected with him.

His hand dances from your core back to your belly, resting itself on the roundest part. He caresses you gently.

"You're so beautiful darling", he whispers.

"You literally only see the back of my head right now", you giggle. You know what he actually meant by that. That he is so obsessed with your baby belly and that his own hormones are going crazy ever since he looked at those two stupid little red lines, also that he just generally thinks that you are the most beautiful woman on earth. Teasing him is fun however.

"Yeah well, that's pretty too", he says and makes you laugh.

You cuddle back into him and hum contently, reaching down to hold his hand and touch your belly as well.

"You know what's awesome?" you ask him.

"Our baby?"

"Well...yeah that too but I didn’t mean that."

Taehyung nuzzles his nose into your hair, "what else?"

"That we can stay in bed the entire day."

"Oh yeah that is really awesome", Taehyung agrees and kisses your hair.

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lennydaisy · 3 years

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SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead || CHAPTER TWO.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

The Walking Dead.

Season 1-?

FEM OC! and ?

Hope you like it :)) and here is the link to CHAPTER ONE!

My home is nothing but radiant. It's a place that is constantly filled with smiles and laughter and sometimes the occasional tear, but no matter what we get through it because we are a family. It's filled with so many memories; like when Corey and I tried to make mom a cake for her birthday and ended up spending her birthday at the hospital because Corey somehow got a teaspoon stuck up her left nostril, or when I came home from school claiming to have a new pet. My mom thought it would have been a snail or a worm, like something normal, but no I was a bit of a weird kid and brought home a skunk. I don't know how I found it or how I managed to get it to rest peacefully in my school backpack all day, but what I do know is that we all had to spend a week at a motel whitest our house got deep cleaned.

I had my first heartbreak in this house, my room filling up with tears like that one scene from Alice in Wonderland, only difference was I was 6 years old and claimed I had already met the love of my life.

This house has blessed me with so many things. One of those things being a chance. A chance at a normal upbringing in a comfortable home. It also blessed me with 2 sisters at the age of 4 and the most amazing mother I could have ever asked for. At the end of the day, my home, 76 Baden Way, Mormont, is the one consistent happiness in my life.

That's why I'm confused.

The drive up the all too familiar street was oddly unsettling. It didn't feel right. To be fair I didn't grow up in a white picket community with neighbours that give you cookies every fortnight or invite you to their weekly barbecues in their freshly mowed lawns, but it wasn't a bad place.

Was I gone for too long, it's only been a couple of days.

The houses that once stood tall, the house that once signified homeliness, now appear to be on there last leg. The once standing, chipped fences are now nonexistent, flattened into the ground. The once curtained windows, with the occasional flower pot on the window sill, are now completely bored up, no light being shown into the what I assume darkened houses.

Normally finding parking in my street is a nightmare, it's always something for somebody. Whether it be a birthday or a family get together, there is never any space for me to park my car relatively close to my own house. Of course, I complain, it's annoying, but for some reason being able to just drive straight into my own driveway is sickening to me. Where's mom's car?

My car whistles to a stop as I cut the engine. Neither I or Cora dare to move as we look upon what we once called home. The once fully in season apple tree is now snapped basically in half, rotten apples scattered around the dying grass. As for the house itself, it's not doing so hot either, the garage door is now covered with large indents in the shapes of fists, the odd splatter of blood causing bile to gather in my mouth. The usually crystal clear windows are now dust-ridden and black with ash, unable to see what's within the once homely home.

"What it like this when you left for school this morning?" I question Cora, the unsettling feeling that our home is giving me makes my voice lose all strength.

Shaking her head timidly, "No," she replies, "Everything was normal."

'Now is as good a time as any', I thought as I reach over into the passages seat pocket, grabbing my Cloy Python. Looking my scared sister in the eye I said, "You can stay in the car if you want. I'll scoop the place out, make sure it's safe."

Shaking her head vigorously at my suggesting, gripping onto my arm, prohibiting me from leaving the car alone, "I'd feel a lot safer with you." If it wasn't for the situation I would have poked fun at her for needing her big sister but honestly, I'd feel safer with her too.

Nodding my head, I exit the car and make my way around the front of our house. With shaky legs, Cora stands as tall as she could beside me. Not knowing what we're about to walk into, I detach my baton from my belt and hand it to my timid sister. With trembling but understanding hands she clutched it tightly, white-knuckled.

Mom normal locks the door, no matter what, it's always locked. That's the first sign that somethings wrong. The front down just swung open. I keep my gun raised as I slowly step into my house, the sound of glass crunching under my combat boots, the side window had been smashed. Would explain why the doors unlocked.

"Someone else could be here, be careful, stay alert," I whisper to my sister how had barely moved an inch into our house, my baton still stuck to her right hand.

The dark wood cabinet, where all our favourite captured memories were framed, is now broken, laying on its fronts, surrounded by glass and water from the Fine China flower vase.

Bending down to flip over one of the pictures scattered on the floor, only to be met with the smiling faces of my family. We went to the Grand Canyon a few years ago, we were all so excited but we didn't check the weather. Who knew the Grand Canyon, y'know that big dry place, had flash floods, beats me, but that didn't stop out Mom from forcing us to still have a picnic on the waterlogged grass. 'It's all part of the experience' she said. If the experience was having a cold for weeks after the trip then we nailed it. I couldn't help but smile it the silly but fond memory, but I guess with the way the world is headed moments of endearment and reminiscing don't last very long.

A subtly whistle from my sister causes me to raise to my feet slowly, turning to see her pointing quietly into the family room. Standing still for a minute or so, the loud silence is broken by the soft sound of pattering feet. Signalling for my sister to stay behind me, I stalk my way into the room. Expecting to see one of those things in our living room, I flip the safety of my revolver, taking aim. As though glued to the spot, my legs for some reason forgetting how to work as my eyes settle on a figure standing, back towards us, facing the bookshelf. Not moving like any of those things from before, or making any similar noises, I come to the conclusion that's there is a person in our house. A person I don't know.

"Stay where you are and don't move," my once shaky voice now filled nothing but authority as I order the person before us to halt. Getting the picture, the person raised their hands slowly not daring to move another inch, "Who are you and why are you in my house?" I question, my aim on the back of their head never flatters.

"Ain't no need for that now little missy" their thick Geogiran accent breaking through the tense air in the room, "what happened to a little common southern hospitality?" He asks laughing clearly not taking any of this seriously.

"You broke into my house and you expect what, a welcome party. Oh wait and I'll fetch the balloons," the sarcasm rolls of my tongue like venom. The nerve of this guy.

"Correction I didn't break-in, I was pleasantly granted access," he corrects cocking his head to the side. Even though I can't see his face I already know that's there's a shit-eating grin.

"Granted access by who?" Perks up Cora, her voice not as protruding towards the figure but her point still stands.

Seeing the man nodding his head in acknowledgement, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth, "ah you're the sisters. The cop and the college chick," he laughed, his hands no longer held up but instead on his knees as he leans over slightly in laughter. Not understanding what's so funny, I cock my gun causing him to shot back up to attention, any signs of joking no completely evaporated into thin air.

Turning his head slightly despite my order to not move, his stubbly side profile coming into view, half a smirk lazily dancing along his face, "I take it you're the bad cop," he attempts to joke again, but it falls short, in a situation like this, one that has my moms safety on the line, is not the time to be Mr Comedian.

"Where's my mom" I rolled my eyes at the man, asking the serious question at hand. If he as much laid a single finger on her, I swear, if he thinks I'm the bad cop now, he's got another thing coming.

"Well if that's what you wanted this whole time you should have just asked little missy," he exclaims turning round to fully face us. He's a shaggy looking man, looking to be in his early 40s. His short blond hair sitting a mess on the top of his head. He has a few scars here and there and eyes that sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. His attire, clad in an old button-down shirt and a dirty wife-beater that looks to be stained with sweat from the Atlanta heat.

I already knew he was armed, spotting the gun that was tucked tightly into the back pocket of his cargo pants. Based on looks alone I already know what type of man I'm dealing with here. A stereotypical, boorish, southern redneck. Most of these men are ticking time bombs and the fact that one has found there way into my home, the place where my mother is, doesn't sit right with me.

"Come on out now Charlotte," He called out of the broken-down door, leading to the stairs, "I think it was a bird," he mutters, kicking this right leg quickly. Looking down at the ground, aside from the broken glass and wood chips, there are also feathers. Must have been the bird he was talking about.

The sound of light feet pattering down the stairs causes my ear to twitch, almost cat-like, but I don't flatter my aim on the man, "are you sure, I thought I heard-" the voice of my mother echos through the room from behind me. Mom. As subtly as possible I attempted to flip the safety back on my gun, not want to catch the attention of the man before me, but the silence fails me yet again, the soft clicking of my gun makes the man look at me, a knowing grin on his face. Cocky bastard.

"Cora, Macy," relieves mom, as she rushes over the glittering glass, skidding with friction, pulling both of us into a bone-crushing hug, "you're okay?" She asks as she separated from us, holding us at an arms distance, looking us over for signs of injury.

"Mom, Mom! We're fine," Cora reassures our panicking mother, holding her ageing face between her hands, looking her seriously in the eye, "we're okay."

Yeah, we might be but what about her.

My mom is a colourful woman. She always said 'the world is simply in black and white, but that doesn't mean we can't add our own colours'. Whether it is a bold pair of earrings or an eyesore of a scarf, she is always surrounded by colour, but not today. She clad in a shirt that appears to big for her petite frame, baggy jeans and hiking boots. No colour, just black and white, not like our mother at all. Her hair resembling that of a birds nest and her glasses sitting at a slant. She doesn't look put together.

"This is Merle," my mom waves her hand in the direction of the man whose eyes have not left mine, not so subtly looking me up and down with a look that makes me feel sick to my stomach, "He and his brother saved me from those people, brought me back here safely."

"That we did Charlotte," this Merle character near enough shouts in reply. 'What is this man so damn loud for?', "Just a bit of Southern hospitality. Something your daughter here could learn about," he says clearly not liking the fact that I still have my gun pointed in his direction.

"Macy put the gun down," the stern voice of my mother caused me to holster my gun against my thigh, but I refuse to let my guard down. I don't trust this Merle, whether he saved my mom or not, something just doesn't sit right with me.

"That's more like it girly," he says sounding assertive as if he has just won. It pretty clear that the man has some military experience. I can feel it in the air. The way he thinks he can control the room and the people in it, "My baby brother should be back soon, but I say we meet him halfway."

Is this some kind of joke?

"Look thanks for help our mom," I eventually cave into thanking the man, "But no way in hell are we going anywhere with you."

"Now I think your mommy over there would disagree with that?"

I turn to look at my mother who has a reluctant look in her eye, but not at the sketchy man in our living room, but at me. Is she really thinking about leaving with this man? Everything about him screams red flags and that's not just because I'm a cop but from just general observation. This is the type of man you would not want to meet alone at night.

"He and his brother have plans to head for Fort Benning," My mom starts slowly, clearly trying to find the right words, "I thought we could go with them."

I'm already shaking my head as my mom is speaking and I can hear her breath getting quicker and quicker, panicking, "Please," she begs, her voice cracking as I notice the tears building up in her eyes, "Please Macy, I want us to be safe."

Safe.

With the way things are going, I don't know how much longer we can be safe. I’ve always seen my home as the safest place on earth. It's where I live. It's where I grew up. My whole life started here in this very house, surrounded by people that I love. I always swore to protect my family. I didn't know what I would have to protect them from but seems as though the time has come to prove this more than ever.

"Ah, now Macy, baby," Merle begins to taunt, starting to walk closer but stops when he sees my hand rest on my gun again, "What kind of daughter would you be to deny your mom of safety."

"Why don't you just stay the fuck out of this?" I snapped at the man how held his hands up in defence and walked over to our couch bending down to pick up the rifle that I failed to notice resting on the table.

"Macy," I hear Cora whisper from behind me and when I turn to look at her the look in her eye tells it all. She's scared.

She's scared.

Mom's scared.

I'm scared.

"Where's this brother of yours?" I sigh turning to face Merle who is looking out of the window, his eyes darting from left to right.

"Away hunting," he shrugs, "should be back in an hour or two, but we're losing light. I say we meet him halfway."

For some reason, my mom just agrees with this and turns to Cora, telling her to pack a bag for her and me. My mom wonders off to wait outside, but I stay put. I don't trust this man, and I sure as hell don't trust him wandering around my house where both my mom and sister are. I stand my ground and clear my throat causing merle to turn in my direction, "Try anything, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes."

"I'd like to see you try," he lets out a burly laugh before pushing his way past me and out of the front door.

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as the sound of a car door slamming shut snaps me from my own world.

Call it wishful thinking, I already knew the answers to the question that was spinning around in my head. She wasn't back, and she was never going to come back. But there was no harm in checking. Right?

Bare. Empty. Any trance of anybody living in this room had been completely erased. It's hard to believe two people I held so dearly to my heart lived here. The once painted black walls which were covered with the typical posters of any rebellious teenager are now newly painted white, hiding all the scratches or chips that were previously there. I kind of glad about the change of walls, in my opinion, once you reach the age of 30 it's maybe time to let go of your rebellion.

All that is left is a set of drawers, a double mattress on the floor with no covers and a small single mattress on the other side of the room. Moving over to the dust-ridden drawers, I pulled open the first one and to no avail, it's completely empty. What was I expecting? She's been gone for years and she was never coming back. Especially not now.

It might sound dumb but every night after she left, I would leave her bedroom light on hoping that it would encourage her to come back home. But she never did. Mom eventually got annoyed about finding me asleep outside of Ally's bedroom door every night and had to have a word with me. Sure I stopped leaving a light on for her, but that didn't mean that I missed her any less.

Without Ally being around I had to step up and fill in the gap that she had left in our family. Ally was always the hardass. The tough one. If you were in a fight you'd want Ally in your corner. Despite anything that she says, she did love her family at one point. She was always on our side. In our corner.

Then one moment that all changed. We had a new addition to the family.

Little DeeDee.

DeeDee, my sweet little niece. Such a sweet kid, not a bad bone in her body. It's almost hard to believe that she's my sister's daughter. What they lacked in a shared personality they make up for in identical looks, they look the spits of each other, a true carbon copy.

When my sister found out she was pregnant she ran away. Telling not a soul why. Except for me.

I found out on my own, we have always told her to clean up after her self or something might happen. Well hi, I'm that something. She never kept me updated through the duration of her pregnancy, not like I expected her too, she just up and left. Until DeeDee turned 3. It's only been a year since she came home and she's was more disconnected than ever, especially with mom.

The rattle of an all too familiar engine interrupts my conversation with mom. Giving each other a knowing look with flickers of uncertainty as though maybe we heard wrong.

We didn't hear wrong.

The pounding of her heavy-duty boots slapping against the hardwood floor, echoing through the entire house. The house was so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

Mom went to 'greet' her first, myself in tail, just in case this all goes south which it most likely will. We haven't seen or even heard from her for well over 3 years now, it got to the point where we all just assumed that she was never coming back. It explains the shock towards her arrival. Well, half of her arrival.

"Ally... your home," mom squeaks out unable to hide the overwhelming shock in her voice. It's awkward, so awkward that it makes me want to itch. The passing eye contact between one another speaks more than their unspoken words.

The reunion of a mother and her absent daughter.

The shock must have gotten to mom's head because she failed to notice the new soul in the room with us. A person we have never had the pleasure to meet. Standing behind her mother, not tall enough to reach her hip yet, is a little girl. All wrapped in a cosy jacket despite the Atlanta heat is the reason why I haven't seen my sister in 3 years.

Moving forward to where Ally can fully see me, making brief eye contact before kneeling down before the little girl. Hands tugging tightly on her mother's leg as she hides her face from mine. It's understandable, I'm an unknown face, so I decided to introduce myself, "Hello," I said gentle, just looking at the innocent girl softly not wanting to overstep my boundaries, "I'm Macy."

I'm oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I didn't hear the stampede of feet rocketing down the stairs. The only thing I'm focusing on is this little girl. She just looks at me in what I'm assuming is confusion because she's never seen me before and I her. It's new for all of us.

"What's your name?"

I honestly didn't expect an answer, she looked like such a delicate flower, but a genuine smile covered my face when she said "Lydia" in the quietest voice I've ever heard.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," I say as I reached my hand forward for her to take in her own, and she did. Slowly but surely her hand was in mine, her tiny hand. Smiling softly at Lydia hoping to have her mirror my actions, she does, but it's short-lived as I'm sucked back into the reality that is the rest of my family.

"So you run off, get knocked up and have the audacity to come back here 3 years later begging for a place to stay," laughed Cora at the mentality of her older sister. I can't help but shake my head as I let go of Lydia's hand, her smile falling behind my back, "Cora, she had a kid," I said to my sister hoping to get her to understand, but it seems as though I don't understand either.

"Oh no the kid can stay, but her," she laughed at the thought, "no chance, not again," shaking her head at the idea of us welcoming Ally back into our home, into our family again. Cora is strong-minded, no doubt about it, but when it comes to her family, if anyone stands in between them and happiness, even if it's our family themselves, they best hope they don't cross Cora.

Cora and Ally have never gotten along. I've always blamed it on the fact that they are too much alike. Cora may be extremely vocal about everything, but Ally is too, just minus the vocal part. You can tell a lot about Ally and how she's feeling just by looking at her. And right now she looks vulnerable. She has a child and I don't know where she has been staying for the last few years but right now she's homeless and what type of family would we be if we shunned out our own.

A terrible one that's what.

"Corrina, if she wants to stay she can stay. If she wants to go she can go. This is just as much her home as it is yours," mom ushered out all in one breath, still baffled that her daughter and newly found granddaughter are standing before her.

I really feel for our mother, ever since Ally vanished she hasn't been the same. It was a drastic change, not enough for the people she sees on her daily shop, but us, her family have noticed that a little light behind our mother's eyes has been duller than usual. Looking at her right now, the light is still flickering but instead with hope. Hope at a new beginning with her daughter and her granddaughter.

"If you ever leave my mother like that again, after everything she has done for us, especially you, it'll be the last thing you do," threatens Cora, never breaking her eyes from Ally who is doing the same.

Coming back to her senses, Ally snaps out of the trance that is Cora's eyes, clicking her fingers like a royal pain in the ass, "Lydia, come," she orders the little girl as she readies herself for the March up the stairs.

Noticing that her mother is no longer standing in front of her, hiding her from the picture that is her family, she rushes to her mother not before looking at me though and I can't help but feel bad, "Lydia if you want you can stay down here, I can make you something to eat," I said trying my best to convince the little girl that she doesn't have to do everything her mother says, but little Lydia shakes her head in rejection.

Maybe it's because she genuinely just wants to stay with her mom in a foreign place or it could be that her mom is staring at her, as though waiting for Lydia to make the wrong choice. P.S I'm the wrong choice in this situation, according to her.

Stomping her away up the stairs like an angry teenager, she leaves her daughter behind assuming that she will just follow her like a helpless puppy. Unable to hide my pity for the little girl, I attempt to cheer her up a bit, "see you soon DeeDee," I promised as a subtle smile appeared on the 3-year-olds face before running after her mother's tail.

The hallway is left in silence, not an awkward silence but just a thoughtful one. The same thoughts and feelings are running through all our minds; Ally's back, with a child. She was bad enough on her own, but now with a daughter, I fear not only for us but for that little girl.

Rubbing my eyes, as the only thought that is running through my mind behind 'this is not my fault', 'there was nothing I could have done to make her stay', no matter what, if she left for a reason or not, I just hope she keeps DeeDee safe because God knows she never done that when she was here anyway.

Just as I had enough of the energy to leave he room, a pile of papers tucked under Ally's mattress caught my attention. Behind down to pull them out, I'm shocked at what she had hidden. It as a collection of loose picture. My curiosity getting the better of me, I start to flick through them, she not here to tell me otherwise.

There are ones from her senior year of high school and her only 2 friends, who I've only had the pleasure of meeting once. On was called Barrett from what I remember, I don't remember the other name, all I know is that the unknown friend mysteriously disappeared a few years after they left high school.

The rest of the picture where weird but oddly boring, snaps of her smoking and drinking, kicking a few gravestones, y'know typical Ally behaviour. It's the last picture that struck me, made my blood run cold but in a comforting way. It's a picture of Ally and I for that time I shaved my head. I briefly remember mom taking it after me begging for hours, trying to convince her and Ally that this was a moment the was worth capturing.

There I stood, tall and proud, both hands on my head with a cheeky grin plastering on my beetroot face, my eyes holding a sheen of water from laughing. It's a contrasting picture. Ally slouched beside me, well a wingspan away from me, because I'm was an embarrassment to her. Her eyes deadly staring into the camera, making no effort to show any emotion.

I remember being disappointed with her lack of effort in the picture, but looking at it now it's perfect. It really shows how we were and are. I always wondered where this picture went. Mom got it reluctantly developed for me and even framed it for my bedside table. I only had it for a few days before it went missing. At first, I blamed mom, believe she wanted to erase the memory from her brain, but all this time Ally had it, and that oddly warms my heart. Sure it was hidden under her bed, but she still had it and kept it. Now I'm deciding to take it back because if the world continues the way it going, I don't know when the next time I'll see my sister will be.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" the sudden voice breaking through the air causing me to jump, and I spin around to find Cora leaning on the door frame, looking around the room in wonder just as I had moments before.

"If you asked me a week ago I would have said yes," I replied looking down at the picture in my hand before folding it and putting it into my back pocket, "Now I don't know."

The thought of Ally coming home was always a distant one. I wanted to believe that the day would come where she would be back and our family would be whole again. That was when the world was normal and even then she still showed no signs of ever coming back.

It seems to me as though the world as we know it is changing, coming to an end if you will. The though of Ally coming home was a longshot before but now more than ever.

A redneck just apparently saved my mom life for crying out loud and now I'm having to drive with said redneck to find his brother.

The worlds went mad.

It's changed and I don't know if I like it.

But it seems like I have no choice.

And thats chapter two done. Its going to be an interesting ride thats for sure.

You got to learn some more about Ally and we also met the lovely man that it Merle Dixon.

If you want to be tagged when I post for this AU just ask and I will for sure do that.

But anyways, yeah, I hope you liked it.

DAISY.

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kuramirocket · 3 years

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Sandwiched between private properties in Southeast Austin sits a little-known cemetery off Hoeke Lane, just west of U.S. 183. From the outside, there’s nothing that indicates the site is the final resting place for a number of Mexican and Mexican-American residents who died decades ago.

It’s a wilderness. The headstones, many of which date back to the 1940s, are easy to miss. The weeds are overgrown, and trees and shrubs cover much of the 4.5-acre plot.

The cemetery has been called a couple different names over the years — the Montopolis Cemetery and San José II. But no sign will tell you that. In fact, there’s scarce information available about the cemetery’s history at all.

But members of the community and a team of researchers are trying to change that. They want to trace back its history and ensure the cemetery, along with its sister site in nearby Montopolis, is preserved.

Diana Hernandez is the lead researcher for (Re)claiming Memories, a research group out of UT Austin that seeks to restore and preserve missing histories in communities of color. She and her team have been collecting death certificates and reaching out to descendants of those buried at the cemeteries to help piece together the history.

“Once we start to research the people that are buried here and start to find archival documentation for each person, we start to see the community come to life through the cemetery,” she said.

The History

To understand San José II, Hernandez says, we have to start about 2 miles north at San José I. This historic Mexican and Mexican-American cemetery was built around 1919. It sits between two churches off Montopolis Drive, though neither of them own it. The site is believed to be unclaimed, or orphaned, meaning no one is responsible for its upkeep in any official capacity. But neighbors and community members have taken care of it as best they can over the years, mowing the lawn, pulling weeds and cleaning off gravestones.

A metal archway stands at the entrance and reads “San Jose Cementerio.” The cemetery was founded by a mutual aid society called the Union Fraternal Mexicana, and it served the migrant sharecropping community. This was during segregation.

“Mexicans weren’t necessarily allowed to be buried in white cemeteries,” Hernandez said. “In some cases I've seen where there's a white cemetery, and then right next to it is the Mexican section … In this case, it was just a completely different cemetery."

When Cementerio San José started to get full, the second one was created in 1949 in Del Valle. Over the years, the cemeteries changed hands. The original San José hasn’t had a known owner for several decades. San José II has an owner, but she’s believed to be in poor health and unable to maintain it, according to Hernandez. KUT reached out to the owner for this story, but did not hear back.

Based on their research so far, Hernandez and her team estimate San José I and II have more than 350 burials combined. But understanding how many burials are at each individual site is a challenge. That’s partly because on death certificates, the name Montopolis Cemetery was often used interchangeably for San José I and II. And not every burial has a gravestone.

Many people buried at the cemeteries died during concurrent epidemics, like influenza, tuberculosis and pneumonia.

“They were getting so many bodies that they were burying people in layers on top of each other, and they stopped documenting who all was getting buried,” she said. “Because there's no documentation for the number of layers for the people that were being buried in these mass graves, we're just never going to know. There's going to be layers of people that we're never going to be able to identify.”

Hernandez began researching the San José cemeteries at the end of 2019, just before the area was hit with another outbreak of a deadly disease — COVID-19. And again, this predominantly Latino neighborhood was hit harder than others.

“These histories repeat themselves,” Hernandez said. “I think that’s one of the reasons why this work is important, because it kind of sheds light on these pasts that weren’t acknowledged the way they should have been. We can use this knowledge to improve our present.”

The Descendants

Frank Monreal remembers the days when Montopolis Drive was just a dirt road. He and the other neighborhood kids, some 50 years ago, would play on the giant oak tree that stands in the middle of Cementerio San José. Instead of bicycles, he and his friends had horses.

“Everybody rode horses back then,” he said one day while at San José I. “We used to come out here, and they were our lawn mowers. They let them eat the grass and keep the grass low here.”

Monreal has relatives buried at San José I and II. From an early age, he understood death was a natural part of life. He often helped out with funerals. He remembers one burial happening at Cementerio San José when he was a kid. But it’s been a long time since anyone was buried there, he says. Most gravesites appear to date back to the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s.

There were more gravestones back then, he says, but some have weathered or broken over time. He used to walk through the cemetery on his way to school. He’d often see people putting flowers on graves, something he doesn’t see much anymore. Now, many relatives have died or left.

“That’s inevitable, you know, because generations change,” he said. “People move away.”

Preserving the cemetery, though, is important, he says, especially as gentrification has altered the landscape of Montopolis over the years.

“[The cemetery] is sacred ground to us, from our ancestors,” he said. “I don’t want to see it gone.”

Micaela Johnson, a 19-year-old artist and activist, can trace part of her family tree back to the Cementerio San José. She’s a member of the Limón family, one of Austin’s founding families whose descendants now number upwards of 3,500.

Many of her family members grew up and had businesses in Montopolis, like the Limón Bakery. She said her grandparents probably have connections to at least a quarter of the people buried at San José.

In her family, passing down stories from generation to generation is a common tradition. She remembers hearing stories about Aurora, her grandfather’s sister, who died in 1940 of pneumonia when she was 11 months old. She was buried at Cementerio San José, and her gravestone was decorated with marbles. But Johnson hasn’t been able to locate it.

She also remembers stories of Concepcion Trevino Garcia, her great-great-grandmother who died in 1939 from tuberculosis and was buried at San José. She left behind her husband and five young daughters.

“She was one of the strongest women that I have ever heard my family talk about,” Johnson said. “She was very driven and very loving.”

Garcia's grandchildren still visit the cemetery on Mother’s Day and leave flowers, Johnson said. Her family’s connection to the cemetery has inspired Johnson to get involved with (Re)claiming Memories and help ensure the San José cemeteries are well kept.

“It’s not just a place where people are buried,” she said. “It’s the life and the heart of a lot of our ancestry.”

One of the more recent headstones at Cementerio San José belongs to Augustina Rosales, who was at one time believed to be Austin’s oldest living resident. She died in 1994 at age 116. Near the back of the cemetery, she’s buried next to her husband Marcos, who died in 1951.

Rosales had 13 children and raised several others who were relatives or orphaned as if they were her own. She liked to dance to conjunto music and cook for her family, according to an Austin American-Statesman article about her death. Rosa Moncada, Rosales's great-granddaughter, says “she was awesome.”

Maintaining The Cemeteries

Moncada has several other relatives buried at San José, including grandparents and two older sisters who were born premature and died. Growing up in East Austin, Moncada would go with her mother and siblings to visit the cemetery. But they went less frequently over time, in part because the grass was often so high they couldn’t easily walk through it.

When they heard about the work Hernandez and her team are doing to help maintain the cemetery, Moncada and her sister Juanita Moncada Bayer started visiting again. And now they’re trying to keep it maintained, bringing relatives together to mow the lawn and clear out dead tree branches.

But maintaining the cemetery consistently isn’t an easy task. San José I is 2.5 acres.

“We thought, well, let's do what we can,” Bayer said. “But unfortunately, our mind tells us we can do it. But our bodies — like, that's hard work.”

(Re)claiming Memories and members of the community hosted a cleanup for San José earlier this year and hope to host more. They have been reaching out to city and county leaders, asking them to allocate more resources to the cemeteries' maintenance.

The more challenging endeavor will be cleaning up San José II. The site is difficult to access, making it hard for people to visit and maintain it.

Monreal remembers going to San José II as a kid to visit his grandfather’s grave with his dad. Back then, San José II had a proper entrance and was easier to get to.

Now, a locked chain-link fence blocks the main path that leads to the cemetery. Several sources told KUT the fence was put up by the property owner next door, perhaps to keep people from trespassing. KUT reached out to the law office that owns the property and was told it didn’t have anything to do with the gate. Hernandez and the research group are trying to get to the bottom of the issue and hope to create a proper entrance, so descendants can visit.

The area has long had problems with people dumping trash and gravel. A mound of dirt and debris now presses against fencing on one side of the cemetery.

And warehouses are being built on the southeastern side. This worries Hernandez because the cemetery hasn’t been surveyed; some burials could be outside the perimeter and could be disturbed. Community members have expressed concern that debris from construction is impacting the cemetery.

When KUT reached out to the construction manager for the company that’s developing the site, he was surprised to learn there was a cemetery next door. (“That is a jungle,” Brent Ramirez said.)

The cemetery itself is zoned for warehouse and limited office use, which some are concerned could make it vulnerable to development. (Re)claiming Memories is working with Council Member Vanessa Fuentes to get the proper zoning for it and a historical designation. Fuentes toured the cemetery earlier this year.

“It’s sad to see because it looks as if it’s been neglected and dismissed, especially with the development that’s right next to it,” she said. “Those are families and families’ history and legacies and relatives that are buried there. Those are stories that need to be told.”

Currently, pink marking flags stick up in various spots within the shrubbery of San José II. That’s the work of Joaquin Rodriguez, an Austin resident who has been going out to the cemetery to remove litter and clean off and mark gravestones that have been covered up over time.

He first learned about the cemetery late last year while researching his ancestry. Rodriguez, who was adopted, had taken a DNA test and learned he had relatives buried at cemeteries throughout Austin, including San José I and II. After seeing how neglected San José II was, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The (Re)claiming Memories team wants to eventually create a digital map or database where people can upload information about the people buried at the cemeteries. Hernandez hopes this crowdsourced online resource will help bring the stories of the deceased together and shed light on the history of the Mexican and Mexican-American community in Montopolis.

The team is also putting together an exhibit on the cemeteries for the Mexic-Arte Museum in September. Johnson plans to perform a poem called “We Are Lost History” and sell shirts she designed, the proceeds from which will support the cemeteries' upkeep.

Johnson said she recognizes that Austinites who are not directly connected to the cemeteries may not see a reason to care about them, but she thinks they should.

“They might just see it as another gravesite or another old ancient Mexican burial ground, and they might [think] it doesn’t matter because it’s not a part of them,” Johnson said. “But it is a part of them. It’s a part of the history of Austin.”

And as development continues to alter the look and population of the Montopolis neighborhood, she says, it’s urgent to keep conversations about the cemeteries going.

“If we’re not actively trying to be like, ‘Hey, this matters,’” she said, “it’ll get washed away.”

#🇲🇽#usa #united states #texas #texan history #mexican history #cemetary #cemetaries #montopolis #mexican #mexican american #austin #austin texas

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peri-crone-al · 4 years

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Forgotten

August 06, 2020

{This idea came to me while I was mowing the lawn this morning. Amazing what can happen when you’re engaged in some menial task.}

It’s a little angsty. My happy-ending-loving soul hurts after writing this.

CW: amnesia, mysterious injuries

You woke up in a hospital bed, and immediately started crying. No idea why. And certainly no clue where you were.

Fortunately, a nurse was in the room at that moment, and was immediately by your bedside. A sweet, older woman, she takes your hand and pats it gently, brushing her fingers through your hair.

“There, there, Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe now, from whatever happened to you. Do you remember anything?”

She uses a tissue to dry the tears from your cheeks, hands you another to take care of your dripping nose.

You look up to meet her soft gaze, terrified, and shake your head.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to try and force yourself. You worried a lot of people when you disappeared. They’ve been searching for months.”

“Disappeared?” Your voice is ragged, your throat sore.

“Mm-hm. Witnesses said some man with silvery hair just snatched you right off the street. Police weren’t able to find any clues to where you’d been taken. After a few weeks, the searches were called off. No one thought you’d ever be seen alive again.” She smiled gently down at you. “And then, like a miracle, you reappeared. Unconscious, a little the worse for wear....”

You look down and finally notice that there are bandages on your hands and arms, and you can feel them on other places around your body.

There are so many questions flying through your mind now, but you can’t latch onto any of them, and just stare at the nurse, uncomprehending.

“Your family is on their way to you, right now. It’s a bit of a distance for them to come, and you were just found last night. Would you maybe like to try and eat something?”

You don’t really feel hungry, but you nod anyway, and take a closer look at yourself as the woman leaves to find some food for you.

You notice intricate markings in various places on your body - the inside of your right wrist, on each hip, your left shoulder, the inside of your right thigh, your stomach. Something itches on your lower back, and when you reach around, you can feel the raised lines of a seventh design.

You were tracing the lines of the one on your wrist when the nurse returned with a tray.

“Those are lovely tattoos,” she remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any like that before. What do they mean?”

Your nose stung, and tears started to fall again.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I...I feel like they’re important, but I don’t know why...”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry! It’ll probably all come back to you in time. I imagine that whatever you went through while you were gone, it was pretty traumatic. Your brain is just trying to protect you from those memories right now. Unfortunately, that means both the bad and the good. Give yourself time.”

A few weeks later, you’re home. The burns and cuts and scrapes and bruises have all healed. You’re seeing a therapist, who is trying to help you recover nearly 18 months of missing memories. They’ve recommended that you start keeping a journal, and write down anything that seems relevant.

In the meantime, life moves on.

For the most part, all is well. There’s still a yawning cavern of emptiness inside that you can’t identify, but you learn to live with it.

On a handful of days, you wake up filled with an inordinate sadness. Soul deep and crushing. On those days, you can’t even get out of bed. And you don’t know why.

After a few years, it occurs to you to look back through your journals, and you realize it’s on the same days, every year.

March 11

April 09

May 15

June 06

September 10

October 20

Every year, on these six days, complete heartbreak holds you paralyzed.

And still, all these years later, you have no idea why.

And time doesn’t stop.

You’re older now. Maybe you married and had children, who are now nearing the age you were when those eighteen months of missing time happened.

Maybe you never married, because deep down, you knew your heart always belonged to someone else.

One day, you’re at your local market, slowly perusing the aisles to find the items on your list, when you notice a man staring at you, his eyes intense.

He’s breathtakingly beautiful. Tall, broad shoulders, slender waist, deep black hair and dark eyes, dressed far too elegantly to be in a grocery store. Couldn’t be more than thirty.

“Can I help you?” You ask.

He searches your eyes for a moment, and, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders fall.

“I apologize,” he says with a small shake of his head. His voice is deep and sonorous. “You simply reminded of me of someone I love, who was lost to me many years ago.”

He gives you a nod and walks slowly past you.

For some reason, your heart is pounding a million miles an hour, and it’s all you can do to remain standing as your emotions whirl and you feel something fluttering at the edges of your mind.

Eventually, you calm down and resume your shopping trip, and then return home, wondering about that man, stroking the design on your wrist.

#obey me #swd obey me #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #my writing #I hope this means my muse is back

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primatechnosynthpop · 3 years

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Oh yeah just remembered several weeks ago I jotted this down in the notes app on my phone. Not really developed enough to warrant posting on any fanfiction websites or whatever but I guess I may as well share it here

The old manor across the street from the arcade has been haunted for decades. The groundskeeper knows this all too well, for reasons he prefers not to share, especially because nobody ever listens when he tells them. But he really did try to warn those kids.

The morning after three young men waltzed into the manor against his warnings, two of those young men ran out, screaming at the top of their lungs. Cooper couldn't say he didn't feel bad. But he had tried to warn them, and what did they do? Just went right on in anyway.

Later the following day, once the kids have long since left the vicinity, he takes a look around the manor to clean up whatever remains the ghoul may have left behind from its latest victim. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for him to find a body: eyes torn out; skewered by tentacles in several places; innards partially consumed. Scattered next to the corpse are several of Cooper's belongings. Seems like this guy had been trying to steal... maybe planning to commit identity theft? Well, whatever his motivations were, it's too late to ask him now. Cooper bags the body, drags it outside, and gets to burying it.

A couple hours later, the two kids who got away show back up. They look real skittish, especially the skinny one with the glasses, but they manage to stammer through an inquiry as to whether their friend "made it out okay". They refer to him by name, and say a whole bunch of stuff about who they are and what they were doing there the night before, but it all kind of goes in one ear and out the other-- in part because the two young guys talk over each other a bit, and in part because, hell, it's not like it matters. Cooper, no longer able to muster much sympathy after learning these punks tried to steal from him, leads them over to the newest "grave" on the property, hands them a shovel, and tells them to start digging.

As he's walking away, he overhears one of them saying to the other, "is he saying Kevin escaped using a secret network of underground tunnels?" The other guy offers an equally chipper comment in return. He can't tell whether they're deep in the denial stage of grief, or just complete idiots. Either way, they aren't looking so chipper when they trudge off his property about half an hour later. Cooper watches them from the window and thinks, good riddance. Hopefully they'll spread the word around, and people will actually listen for once, and stop walking into their deaths in this house.

It isn't until several days later, when Cooper is out mowing the lawn, that he notices a change in the air. By now, he's so used to sudden chills running through his body and the like that he barely registers it at all. But this is a new sensation. It's more like getting zapped or burnt. He looks behind him, and rather than the ghoul's familiar skeletal grin, sees the translucent but well-defined and largely humanoid figure of a man standing there and glaring at him with eyes that are big patches of static.

Well, that's a new one. But after living with one malevolent spirit for nearly forty years, Cooper isn't gonna be too freaked out by the appearance of another. Hell, this isn't even the first time this has happened recently. Other ghosts, ghouls, and spirits come and go from this place all the time. Why, just a few weeks ago the temperamental spirit of some real nasty-looking guy about this punk's age wandered through the property before settling down at the arcade across the road. So he just shrugs and goes back to his groundskeeper duties.

This new ghost proves not to be much of a threat. It seems to do a lot of macho posturing without ever really attacking Cooper like it means it. Most of the time, it's out of sight and out of mind, to the point where Cooper keeps assuming it's moved on after going a day or two without seeing it, only to be mildly surprised when he sees it again, rattling the doors of his old pickup truck or going through his gardening tools or just generally wandering around and groaning to itself.

He can always tell when the two spirits run into each other, because what follows is a cacophony of moaning and screaming that can be heard from any corner of the house. It's nothing he hasn't heard a million times before, but it's so loud and incessant that it keeps him up at night, like a dog barking or a car alarm going off outside. The ghoul never did get along very well with its victims' spirits. It starts getting annoying after a while.

Eventually, Cooper starts looking for a way to put this young ghost's soul at ease just so it'll stop making a racket. The next time he catches it rifling through his gardening supplies, he doesn't stop it or shoo it away. He lets it grab his hoe and his spare shovel, and then, out of mild curiosity and the lack of anything better to do, tags along from a safe distance to see what it does with them.

As it turns out, this ghost has lofty ambitions.

It tracks down the ghoul that killed it and thrusts the blade of the hoe into it, over and over. The ghoul lashes its tentacles, but each time it touches the other ghost it recoils as though from an electric shock. Watching this, Cooper almost feels sorry for the old ghoul. It's been in charge here for so long, but (perhaps by pure luck) this newcomer seems to have figured out its one weakness. As the one-sided battle progresses, the ghoul's tentacles are lopped off one by one, eventually leaving it defenseless. From there, it doesn't take long until it's completely pulverized. You can't kill a supernatural being with an ordinary weapon, from what Cooper knows, but you sure can destroy it. And sometimes being destroyed is worse than being killed.

Oh, but the ghoul will reassemble itself in time, once it recovers enough energy. Again, it's not like this is the first time any of this has happened. This other ghost doesn't have to know that, though-- let it think that its unfinished business is now finished, so it can go away. It turns and walks outside, and Cooper runs to the window to watch it leave.

But it doesn't leave.

In fact, it wanders across the property, shovel in hand, to the patch of upturned soil where Cooper buried the body. He realizes what it's trying to do as it starts digging, and despite everything, he almost starts feeling bad for it again. He goes outside and watches it dig for a while before speaking up.

"That won't work. There's nothing there." The ghost turns to stare at him with those big patches of static where its eyes should be, and Cooper crosses his arms. "Your little friends came by and dug up your body. It's gone now."

The ghost emits a reproachful moan. It drops the shovel and stomps on the ground. Then, with a shake of its head that sends little sparks of energy flying off it like water droplets off a wet dog when it shakes itself, it turns and shuffles away.

Cooper never sees that particular ghost again, and never thinks much of it again, either. There are always new supernatural happenings to be dealt with in this house. No need to get hung up on one guy in particular just because he was a would-be thief or died young or tried to fight the ghoul. He wasn't the first to fit any of those descriptors, and he wouldn't be the last.

It's not until many years later that he sees those three young men again, traipsing down the sidewalk toward the arcade across the road. So many people are coming and going to and from the arcade that day that he barely even notices. By the time it sinks in that it's definitely the same guys, and definitely all three of them, the arcade doors have already closed behind them and he can't look again to double-check. But Cooper knows what he saw, or thinks he does. He never finds out how or why, and frankly, he doesn't care. Whatever happened with that guy in the plaid shirt, it didn't break the cycle of paranormal events on Cooper's property.

Only... after that busy day at the arcade, new ghosts stop showing up, even when people visit his manor and meet their ends. And then one day, people stop meeting their end there altogether. He wakes up one day, almost another full year after the fact, and realizes that he hasn't seen the ghoul in months.

It's like there was some kind of portal open all this time, and now for whatever reason it's closed-- maybe whoever was keeping it open is gone now? Whatever. Cooper has no way of knowing, and he doesn't really care to find out. The point is, it seems like this property is all his now. It's almost lonely, in an odd way, without any spirits wandering around. Gradually, people stop dropping by so often. He should be glad to finally be left alone, but...

Ah, forget about it. Whatever happened with those kids, he still doesn't care, and he's sure as hell not gonna seek them out to express his gratitude to them for seemingly indirectly exorcising his house. He's an old man, after all, without many years left in him. And whatever years remain of his life, he intends to spend them continuing to work as a groundskeeper.

#this is kinda... not cerebral per se but it sorta relies upon some implied bits of lore that aren't explicitly suggested by the text itself #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

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The Once & Future Queen Pt.20

Camelot. Valley. Continued. (Queen Annis heads toward her niece as Morgana turns with a scowl and disappears into Caerleon’s army.) Merida: "What in heaven's name have you done?" Queen Annis: "Hello, Merida. What a pleasant surprise to see you." Merida: "You cannot trust Morgana, she's-" Queen Annis: (Interrupting:) "Allowed me to do what you could not? The once mighty Arthur Pendragon lies dead at my command, not yours. I should always have been the one to claim Dun Broch's throne after Fergus' death." Merida: "I am his daughter and rightful Queen of Dun Broch." Queen Annis: (Scoffs:) "Your people are welcome to you. I have just claimed half of all Camelot in Caerleon's name. You can barely control the members of your own clan." Merida: (When Annis turns to leave:) “Don’t be taken in by Morgana’s fine words. She is consumed by bitterness, it spreads within her like a disease.” Queen Annis: “Have you forgotten how Arthur killed your father? Do you not deny that you sought revenge?” Merida: “Yes, I sought revenge. But that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.” Queen Annis: (Laughs with derision:) “You are weak, Merida, as I always thought you were.” (Annis walks away. Hidden in the crowd, Morgana sees Xena and Gabrielle searching for someone. Suspecting that they mean her harm, Morgana turns her attention to Darian and, her eyes glowing, uses her powers on him. Grimacing momentarily, Darian shakes his head. Looking beside him, Darian pulls his long sword from Arthur’s chest and stalks toward his new targets. Spotting Morgana before she disappears further into the crowd, Anastasia turns to see the giant about to split Xena in two with an overhead swing. Thinking quickly, Anastasia uses her powers and Darian's sword disappears mid-swing. Turning to face their attacker, both Xena and Gabrielle draw their weapons.) Gabrielle: "By the gods, he's almost as big as-" Xena: "Grinhilda, I know!" (Ducking a fist from Darian, Xena rolls out of the way. Gabrielle fearlessly jumps onto the behemoth's back but is flung to the ground for her trouble.)

(Xena runs up behind Darian and slashes him across the back. The giant falls to his knees and Gabrielle kicks him down. Xena is poised to strike when soldiers surround them, aiming their crossbows while Agravaine looks on from above. Seeing Xena and Gabrielle stand back to back before being restrained and shackled, Merida surges forward, but is held back by Anastasia.) Merida: (Struggling against her:) “Let me go! We have to help them!” Anastasia: “No! No! We can't help them now. But we can help each other!" (Anastasia waves her hand and they disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Returning from the station, Regina walks along the pathway to admire Emma's handiwork.) Regina: "Hey." Emma: (Turns:) "Hey. Be careful not to trip over any branches." Regina: (Smiles, looking around:) "I'm very impressed." Emma: "Thanks. It's been needing a good going over for awhile now." Regina: "Haven't we all." Emma: (Chuckles:) "You're insatiable." Regina: "Only for you." (They kiss.) Emma: "I've raked the leaves, mowed the lawn and now I'm just finishing up with the hedges." Regina: "Well don't work too hard, you can always just do all this magically." Emma: (Wipes the sweat from her brow with her arm:) "Yeah, I know, but sometimes it's nice to do things the old fashioned way, get a good sweat going." Regina: "I can see that." Emma: (Smiles:) "Don't worry, now that you’re home, I'll use my magic to clear the rest up once I'm done." Regina: "Okay, good. Is Maria sleeping?" Emma: "No, I've got her picking apples from your tree. (When Regina raises an eyebrow:) Relax. (Leans down and picks up the baby monitor:) She went down about half an hour ago." (Tosses it to Regina.) Regina: (Catching it:) "All right well I'll leave you to it. But you know... (Curling her finger into one of Emma's belt loops and pulling her close:) if this is the kind of thing I'm going to be coming home to, I think our retirement is going to be pretty sweet." Emma: "Oh, you have no idea." (They kiss once more, pulling each other close with their free hands as Emma holds the chainsaw in one and Regina cradles Maria's baby monitor in the other.) Forest. Stream. (Lancelot and Guinevere walk along the forest path beside a stream.) Lancelot: “We’re not far now. This stream leads to the lake.” Guinevere: “How did you know?” Lancelot: “I’ve been here many times.” Guinevere: “No, not about the lake. How did you know my feelings for Arthur weren’t real?” Lancelot: “Well... because he’d only been back a day and there was no way you could have possibly forgiven him for those years he kept you by his side against your will.” Guinevere: “Did you suspect, even back then?” Lancelot: “I suppose I always held out hope that you would one day leave him, but I couldn’t have imagined Arthur capable of such an evil act.” Guinevere: “Well, they do say love makes you do strange things. Despite everything that came after, I believe Arthur truly did love me in the beginning.” Lancelot: “What he did to keep you was not an act of love. It was cowardly and unforgivable. Love is about finding someone and thinking about them all the time. It’s about caring about them more than anyone or anything. The Arthur I knew was only ever concerned about his destiny. He never deserved you, Guin.” (Their conversation is cut short at the sound of a rider approaching. Morgana rides through the woods and pulls her horse to a halt at the sight of them.)

Morgana: (Smiles:) “My my. What a delicious coincidence?” Lancelot: “Run Guin! I’ll hold her off.” Morgana: “Aw. How sweet.” (Guinevere begins to run as Lancelot pulls his sword and charges at Morgana. Urging her horse into a gallop, Morgana rides straight at Lancelot. Conjuring a lance into her hand at the last moment, Morgana almost decapitates Lancelot with it, knocking him down to land hard on the forest floor, unconscious. Laughing, Morgana drops the lance and turns her attention towards Guinevere.) A Short Distance Away. (Guinevere dashes through the forest, passing a tree and inadvertently snaps one of its branches in her rush. Morgana continues her pursuit and stops to look for any signs. Spotting the snapped branch, Morgana smiles and heads off in that direction.) Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Snow White and Henry sit together in a booth while Henry wears a stunned expression on his face.) Henry: "You're not serious?" Snow White: "Well why not? I'd say you'd be uniquely qualified for the position." Henry: "How did you come to that conclusion?" Snow White: "Henry, you've literally written the book on everyone in this town. Plus, growing up with Regina, you must have sat in on your fair share of Town Hall meetings?" Henry: "Yeah and I was bored out of my mind through all of them. I'm sorry, Grandma, but I'm not the guy you want to run as mayor." (Henry stands.) Snow White: "Promise me you'll at least think about it. It would mean working shorter hours and a heck of a lot less time spent in your car." Henry: "Hey, the taxi service might be a dead end job but at least it has the possibility of excitement. Listening to people complain all day and then going blind doing paperwork is about as far from where I wanna be as I can think of." Snow White: (Slides out of the booth:) "All right, so where do you want to be?" Henry: "I don't know... off on an adventure with my fiancee somewhere. As a matter of fact, I'm only back driving because Ella and I couldn't decide on where we should start looking for one."

Merlin: "I might be able to point you in the right direction." (Snow White and Henry both turn to look at the Sorcerer who sits alone at a table.) Henry: "You know where Ella and I can find ourselves an adventure?" Merlin: "Yes. I believe I know just the place." Henry: "That's great. Where is it?" Merlin: "Ah. Before I tell you, you must first do something for me." Henry: (Looks to Snow White who is unsure about this:) "All right, what is it?" Merlin: "You must promise me that you won't tell your mothers I had anything to do with aiding you on your quest." Henry: (Smiles:) "Deal." Swan-Mills House. (Regina checks in on Maria who's still sleeping soundly, laying on her back with her arms up over her head. Smiling, Regina wonders just what her child could be dreaming about. Although not prone to crying like her big brother was at this age, Maria would nevertheless refuse to sleep alone during Emma's prolonged absence. Indeed, Regina would often find herself watching Maria drift off on those sleepless nights they shared a bed. The fact that on the night of Emma's return, Maria resumed sleeping in her cot without fussing once, only helped confirm Regina's theory that her daughter didn't much like the idea of her mother spending her nights alone. Backing out of the room, Regina leaves the door ajar and heads towards the staircase. Stopping at the large window that overlooks the garden, Regina notices that Emma is still hard at work. Captivated at the sight of the muscles in her wife's arms flexing, accentuated by the perspiration glistening in the sunlight, Regina sinks down onto the window seat to continue watching the show.)

Forest. Continued. (Guinevere runs at full speed now as Morgana gallops through the woods. Guinevere falls, but gets up quickly and keeps going only for Morgana to catch up and cut her off.) Morgana: “Guin. Nice to see you again. Oh, you’ve forgotten. I’ve hunted these woods since I was a child.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please, we were friends once, were we not?” Morgana: “You misunderstand me. I only wish to help. The path to Camelot is that way.” (Morgana points.) Guinevere: “It’s you who has forgotten it seems. I know these woods, too.” Forest Road. Past. (Morgana and Guinevere ride through the woods with an escort.) Morgana: “You look troubled, Guin.” Gunivere: “I’m fine.” Morgana: “You’re very secretive these days. I’m beginning to think there’s a man involved.” Guinevere: (Scoffs:) “When do I get to meet any decent men?” (Suddenly, their party is attacked.) Sir Robert: “My ladies, you must follow me!” (The knight is shot in the back. Guin and Morgana are pulled off their horses. A knight kills the men holding them.) Morgana: “Guin! Head for the path! Go! (Guinevere and Morgana run up the hill, but Kendrick is waiting for them:) I warn you. I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon. He’ll have your heads if any harm comes to me.” Kendrick: “I have no intention of harming you. At least not yet. You’re much more valuable to me alive, Lady Morgana.” Bandit’s Camp. (Morgana and Guinevere observe the bandits from inside a tent.) Morgana: “He’s coming. You know what you must do?” (Guinevere nods.) Kendrick: “I trust you are comfortable?” Morgana: “I demand to know where you’re taking us.” Kendrick: “You’ll find out soon enough. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. Get some rest.” (Kendrick turns to leave, but Morgana walks out of the tent after him.) Morgana: “I wish to bathe.” Kendrick: “You wish to bathe?” Morgana: “I am the King’s daughter and accustomed to certain standards. I am sure you are quite contented to stink like a pig, but I am not.” Kendrick: (Speaks loudly so his men can hear:) “The Lady Morgana wishes to bathe! Who wants to help me guard her?” (Coarse laughter rises from the men.) A Short Time Later. (Morgana begins to undress by a stream, two men guarding her and Guinevere.) Kendrick: “You may find the water a little icy.” Morgana: “I’m sure I’ll manage. (Glances over to see one of the men holding on to Guinevere’s arm. To Kendrick:) If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d give me some privacy.” Kendrick: “Well, unfortunately for you I am no kind of gentleman. Now get on with it.” (Kendrick chuckles and moves closer to her. Morgana removes her outer garment and the second bandit lets go of Guinevere to get a closer look himself.) Morgana: “You can at least turn your backs.” Kendrick: “So you can make a run for it. Do you think I’m that stupid?” Morgana: “I think you’re very stupid. (Guinevere pulls Kendrick’s sword and Morgana hits him, Guinevere tosses her the sword and Morgana slashes both men. To Guinevere:) Run! (The men pursue them through the woods:) No, no, this way!” (Guinevere stumbles and twists her ankle, Morgana stops and goes back to her.) Guinevere: “Run!” Morgana: “Put your arm around my shoulder, come on!” Guinevere: “No, no, no. We’ll never outrun them, you must go on without me!” Morgana: “I’m not leaving you behind!” Forest. Present. (Morgana smiles at the memory.) Morgana: “I remember very well. Truth is, it doesn’t matter which way you go. As long as you’re around, the people will always love you more.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please...” Morgana: “I can’t say I blame them really. You are far too delicate a soul to be mixed up in all this, Guin. I think it’s time to take you off the chessboard and release you from your burdens. (Not sticking around to find out what Morgana means by that, Guinevere starts running. Morgana’s eyes glow and Guinevere screams as she is thrown against a tree. Guinevere falls to the ground, unconscious. Moving her horse to stand over Guinevere:) Nu bebiede ic þe þæt þu lætest þine flæsc sclice gelic nysse. Wyrþ deor!” (Morgana’s eyes glow and a golden shimmer glows over Guinevere’s body. Morgana leaves with a smirk.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Pleased at a job well done, Emma waves her arms in all directions, magically sending all the garden debris into the recycling bin. Brushing her hands together, Emma starts whistling a familiar tune while she gathers up her gardening tools. Her arms now fully laden, Emma turns around to walk back up the path when she catches sight of a vision sitting in the upstairs window. Emitting a long appreciative whistle, Emma drops the tools noisily to the ground as she stares up at Regina, who is clad only in her underwear where any passerby could see her.) Window. (Smiling at Emma's reaction, Regina crooks her finger at her, indicating that she should come inside.) Outside. (Smiling at her wife's brazenness and not needing to be invited twice, Emma walks towards the house.) Forest. (Merida walks several paces ahead of Anastasia, clearly agitated.) Anastasia: (Stops walking:) "So you're pissed at me, is that it?" Merida: (Rounding on her:) "I am furious at you. How could we just leave them there?!" Anastasia: "If we had stayed, we'd be prisoners too." Merida: "Not necessarily. We could have fought. You could've used your magic to-" Anastasia: "To what? Blast the soldiers out of our way?" Merida: "Well it would've been something!" Anastasia: "I understand full well that you only invited me into this little gang of yours because I have magic. But if I used it as callously as you think I should, wouldn't that make me just as bad as Morgana? (Merida says nothing:) You know I'm right." Merida: "Yeah, but I don't have to like it." Anastasia: (Smiles:) "Come on, it'll be getting dark soon and I'm starving. What say you catch and I cook?" Merida: (Softening:) "I wouldn't hold your breath, there doesn't look to be any signs of life out here." Anastasia: "Well, I could always give you a five minute head start, Merida." Merida: "Funny." Anastasia: (Spots movement in the bushes:) "Deer!" (They chase after a doe running through the woods. Splitting up, Anastasia slows to a walk while Merida carries on ahead. She spots the doe and it looks at her. Anastasia senses something and hears Guinevere’s weeping. Anastasia realises what’s happened when she sees Guinevere’s running reflection as the doe passes by a small puddle. Merida arrives and passes Anastasia before taking aim.) Merida: “Well aren’t you a beauty?” (Coming to her senses too slowly to react, Anastasia watches in horror as Merida fires.) Anastasia: “No!”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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howdoyousleep3 · 4 years

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The daddy vibes I get off of andy barber are so intense it leaves me breathless

I can only look at the gifs or pictures sporadically because I’m genuinely worried I’ll stop breathing lmao.

It’s like double Daddy. He’s a Father, sure but he’s also a Daddy.

D o u b l e. D a d d y.

I have a huge urge to do a filthy Headcannon with him. I read and reblogged one a week or so ago about a friend of his son’s (who is of age) who gets into a hot little thing with him and it made me squirm, oof.

He seems so...like you’d never see it coming. He could be talking about how he wants to mow the lawn this weekend and maybe he needs to go to the hardware store one second and then tell you to crawl to him in the same tone the next second and I shake all over thinking about it!

#askK

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daybreak-delusion · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina. As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

Yeah, it was just as awkward as I thought it would be. First off Rafe didn’t say anything for a while he was just texting someone on his phone. I was awkwardly sitting on the couch so I tried to envision myself anywhere else but here. I thought about the London flat and how it was probably going to be destroyed by Will’s outrageous parties. Becoming too overwhelmed that this was my life now I tried to start a conversation to distract myself.

“So, have you lived here all your life?” was my pathetic attempt to converse with a boy who seemed to have an intimate relationship with his phone.

“Um yeah, I have. Do you know the WIFI passcode there's no service in here,” was his pathetic response to my question.

“I actually just got here a few hours ago and haven’t gotten the chance to find it. Wanna help me look for it?”

“Uh sure,” he finally put his phone away and was looking at me like it was his first time seeing me, almost as if he hadn't realized I was a girl before, “Yeah it’s probably in the kitchen.”

We looked for a good ten minutes, but no such luck. That’s when things finally got interesting.

“Aye you wanted to talk to me, sunshine,” barged in Golden Boy from the back kitchen door, hitting Rade in the face in the process. It was the first time I had genuinely smiled that morning.

“JJ what the hell are you doing here,” said a red-faced Rafe. Ah so JJ was Golden Boys name. It suited him in a boyish way. No doubt that he was one of the most handsome boys I had ever seen. His golden hair and striking blue eyes were the main statements of his face. The boy was also blessed with good bone structure and full lips that girls at my boarding school would have killed for. Then there was his tall frame and strong arms. He was a classic hottie. Of course, this was just his looks, I didn’t know what he was really like and from the encounter I had this morning he wasn’t the highest on my list of boys I would date. But, I had gone out with douchebags with fewer manners than him.

“I could ask you the same question, Rafe,” JJ’s voice was laced with pure hatred. It startled me how quickly his demeanor changed from walking in.

“Rafe it’s okay, JJ mows the lawn and I asked to speak to him,” I said in a calming voice sensing dangerous tension. The last thing I wanted was a fight on my hands.

“Is that why it looks so shitty,” was Rafes’ response to this which put him even lower on my dating list. Grandmother wouldn't have hired just anyone to take care of her lawn so calling it shitty was an insult on her part. I quickly became angry.

“Hey man!” JJ said in a “hey I will fight you right now” tone of voice. The boys each were about to throw punches when I interfered.

“Rafe, hey,” I said stepping in front of Rafe with my hands up, trying to calm him down despite my anger, “It’s okay, how about you come back and pick me up for dinner, I just need to talk to JJ about the lawn and I’m sure you have things that you need to do before tonight.” I put as much sweetness I could muster up into my words hoping to calm him down and get him out of Grandmother’s house.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll need to get your number so I can let you know when I’m coming back,” he said with charm into his voice. I swear I saw JJ roll his eyes, but I ignored and reluctantly put my number into Rafe’s phone.

“I’ll be by later Whitney, see ya,” and just like that Rafe’s sickening presence was finally gone.

When I came back into the kitchen JJ was sitting at the table drinking a beer.

“Excuse me where did you get that?”

“The fridge.”

“And who gave you permission to go through my fridge?”

“Sorry, Sunshine, this is just how Vicky ran things”

“Who is Vicky?”

“Your grandma, duh”

Vicky? My grandmother? A nickname? She was one of the most proper women on this Earth, I never knew she was a nickname kind of person. I must have woken up in Oz because apparently I’m not on this Earth anymore.

“Whatever, I guess official introductions are in order”

“Yeah, I’d like to meet the girl who was showing off her ass this morning.”

“First things first please delete that from your memory.” I quickly replied, turning away from the boy so he doesn’t see my face quickly turning red.

“Sorry Sunshine, can’t it’s burned into my brain.”

“Please stop”

“It’s like every time I close my eyes,”

“Please”

“It’s just there”

“Okay fine, just please refrain from telling anyone about it.”

“I’ll try my best”

“Thank you”

“Which isn't much if I’m being honest.” There he goes with that smile again, looking like he can see right through me.

“Are you always this infuriating?”

“I don’t know, do you always use weird words while insulting people?”

Ugh, this boy is impossible.

“Look, I really don’t want to argue with you, I am now your new boss and I need information.”

“Wow getting all official on me,” he said taking another swing from his beer, “what are you gonna do? Have you a special investigator look into me? I promise sunshine I’ll give you whatever you need.” he said with a wink while looking me up and down in a similar way Rafe was just moments early. But this time it was hot. Wait, what? Whitney, no. Boys are not what you are here for. But you were just ranking them on your “dating list”. Shut up logic.

“Alright first of all enough with the nicknames. Even though I am technically your boss, because we are probably the same age you may call me by my first name; Whitney.”

“God lady I didn’t know Vicky could have a granddaughter with a huge stick up her ass,” he said, setting his can down on the table. Right on the table no coster or anything like some animal.

“Excuse me? Don’t make me have you call me Mrs. Goodwinson,” I snapped back looking in the drawers for a coaster. Surprisingly I found one on my first try. Of course, it had little lemons on it.

“Ohh I sure am scared,” said JJ leaning back while placing his hand behind his head. I was starting to lose his focus and needed to get to him.

“Oh trust me you should be,” I threatened walking over to this boy, coaster in hand ready to start my test, “I don’t think you really understand what’s going on here,” I stepped closer to him leaning my hands on the table so I could get closer at the boy who apparently held Grandmothers trust, “This is my house now, my lawn, my beers, and my equipment. So enough with the snarky comments, the insulting nicknames, and any mentions of my ass, got it? I don’t know what you know about me or what you think you know about my grandmother, but all of that is going to change. All you need to know is that I could ruin your life. In 5 minutes I could have my family's lawyer on the phone, in an hour I could have a case against you claiming breaking and entering and sexual harassment, in a day a court set up, and by next week you could be in jail for 5-10 years. You really want to risk that,” I finished my statement by picking up his beer and placing my coaster underneath it.

Yeah I know I sound like a bitch, but with good reasons. This also wasn’t the first time I’d given this speech. Father had helped me memorize it when I was trying to get some guys to stop harassing me in middle school. I wasn’t necessarily trying to get him to fear me or anything I was just trying to figure out him out. Grandmother trusted this vulgar, rude, blond boy to take care of her yard and I know this sounds obsessive and weird, but Grandmother always said you could tell the most about a family by the way they kept their yard. Yeah, it was shallow, but was she wrong? Maybe, but I can’t disrespect the dead and I needed to know this boy would take his job seriously.

“I got nothing to lose...sunshine,” said JJ, smirking while taking a swing of his drink keeping eye contact with me the whole time. God, he was cute. What was that? Nevermind I finally had him figured out.

“Now I see it,” I said.

“See what?”

“Why Grandmother trusted you.”

“And why is that?” JJ asked leaning forward his face inches from mine.

“You’re fearless.”

a/n: Yeah i know Whitney kinda sounds like a bitch in this chapter, but i like making characters that have room to develop. The next chapter will make her a little more human, hopefully. Anyways the next update will be Saturday! Thank you so much for reading it means a lot! If you want updates on this fic message me and I’ll tag you. Thanks again!

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

I Need You

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Smut Summary: The moment you fell in love with him was when he smiled at you as Robin. But now that Bruce adopted you, Dick has become your older adoptive brother who sometimes sleeps with you in the same bed. What will you do when your lust overpowers you, and you start to touch yourself while he’s right there, sleeping?

You didn’t have a tragic backstory.

There were no hungry nights, or abusive parents.

There were no parents, full stop. You never knew them. And you were really okay with that. Life happens. You didn’t blame them for anything, except maybe not considering birth control.

You were just an orphan, living in an orphanage, and doing orphan things like sneak out at night for little “adventures” as you liked to call it. The orphanage wasn’t bad either. The people who ran it were nice people, although perhaps just a little boring.

Which is why you liked to walk around at night. You didn’t have game consoles and the books inside the mini library you had read time and time again.

So there you were at 14, just wandering around Gotham at night, giggling at men trying to pick up prostitutes in cars, and avoiding the drunken homeless who liked to get a little aggressive when asking for spare change.

When you walked around, you felt like a different person. Your imagination was what kept you entertained, and honestly, optimistic about the world.

You could pretend to be whoever you wanted to be. That night, you were a secret Russian spy, walking by the blocks of loud club music and neon lights, trying to identify the man who was working with the Americans, planning to kill the Russian president.

You stood outside the club from across the street, waiting for someone to come out. Someone who would look like a traitor to the Motherland.

And there you found your culprit, a man in his mid-30s, with blond hair slicked back, a white shirt that plunged down to reveal his hairy chest, and a pair of sunglasses- at night. You thought he looked villainy enough.

Fueling your imagination, you followed the man from the club. He walked a couple of blocks down, and then turned inside an alley. Smiling to yourself at the excitement you felt, you crossed the road and followed him into the darkness.

You pouted.

You had lost him. The alley was empty except for a pair of cats hissing at each other in front of a metal trash can. Sighing to yourself, you decided to give up on your little fantasy and head back to the orphanage before anyone noticed you were missing.

“Why are you following me?” you heard the sudden threatening voice first before you felt a hand grab your arm tightly, spinning you around and pushing you up against the alley wall.

Your eyes widen and started pooling with tears when you saw the same man in front of you, holding your neck now with a hand, and the other, a gun pointed at your face.

“I’ll ask you again, bitch,” he spat, “Why are you following me? Who paid you? Tell me!”

You yelped out loud when he slammed your head against the wall.

“No- no one!” you sobbed, “I’m sorry! I was just bored!”

“The truth, before I shoot you in the knee!” he growled.

“I swear!” you cried, “Please, I swear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Stupid. You were stupid. Curse your boredom, and curse your imagination. Who were you kidding? You weren’t a Russian spy, nor were you an undercover celebrity, or an investigative journalist. You were just a bored girl with no parents.

“I will shoot your cunt off,” he roared, “And then I’ll fuck whatever’s left of-”

The sound of sudden wind interrupted him mid-sentence. The pressure on your neck disappeared, and so was the man in front of you.

Instead, he was four feet in front of you, on the ground, face bloodied and unconscious. Over him was a tall, dark shadow.

You whimpered in fear, and backed into the wall, praying for it to swallow you up. You slumped to the ground, cowering up at the shape.

“Are you hurt?” a gravelly voice said, coming from the dark shadow.

You didn’t dare answer.

“B!” a chirpy young voice suddenly appeared from above you. A blur of red and green dropped from the sky and landed in front of the shadow.

“Why didn’t you wait for me, B?” the boy you knew was called Robin panted. That’s right. Robin. Then the tall, dark, shadow must be-

“Earth to Batman?” you saw the back of his head cock to the side. He turned around and finally saw you. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?”

Robin walked over to you. He was taller than you, and muscular. He looked more like a man than Boy Wonder. To you that is.

“I’m Robin, and this is Batman. You’re safe now, okay?” he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten. Even through the white lenses of his mask, you could tell that he was being genuine. He offered you a hand to help you up.

“O-okay,” you gulped, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up with strength you did not expect. You were standing closer to him now, and you realised that he couldn’t have been much older than you.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You told him.

“Hey, I’ve seen you before haven’t I?” he queried.

“Robin,” Batman suddenly said in a cautionary voice, stepping forward. You finally saw him properly. Indeed, he looked exactly like the blurred photos in the news.

“No, no,” Robin shook his head, “We’ve seen her before. Around.”

Batman took a look at you.

“Yeah, I’ve definitely seen you. You’re usually alone, though,” Robin said again.

“I like to walk around,” you answered sheepishly.

“At night?” Batman disproved, “Where do you live?”

“At the orphanage on Murphy Street,” you told him.

Silence.

“Why were you following that man?” Batman broke the silence.

“Well,” you started blushing, embarrassed, “It’s stupid. I was just bored.”

“You like to follow people when you’re bored?” Robin chuckled.

“It’s not like that!” you huffed defensively. Even though it was kind of like that.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you,” Robin apologized.

“It’s okay,” you shuffled your feet, “I should get going before they find out I sneaked out again.”

“Okay,” Robin nodded, “Stay safe.”

“Th-thank you,” you looked at him, and then at Batman, “For saving me earlier, too.”

Batman gave you a quick nod, and you hurried back to the orphanage, unaware of the two jumping from roof to roof behind you, making sure you got back okay.

Bruce Wayne waltzed into your orphanage two days after that, with the proper paperwork to officially adopt you.

It was revealed to you after the first 6 months of living with Bruce Wayne and his adopted son Dick Grayson that they were Batman and Robin, the very same ones who saved you that night. You didn’t believe it at first, but they showed you to the Cave behind the old clock, and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Fast forward 4 years later, you were now a Wayne, with an adoptive older brother and an adoptive younger brother. Bruce adopted Jason Todd two years after you, and he became Robin while Dick had moved on to being Nightwing. You weren’t interested in the vigilante life, despite your previous fantasies that you were one.

You were very happy where you were, as a normal girl in a not-so-normal household.

The four years you spent with Dick, you got close to him. He was still warm and chirpy outside as the day you met him, yet you knew that he had changed drastically inside. He aged- not in the physical sense. There was just a look in his eye that said he had gone through a lot.

Yet despite how busy he was as Nightwing, he always spent a lot of time with you. You were his dear little sister after all. He made you feel safe, as he had all those years ago when Batman had saved you.

You would watch movies together, fall asleep together, cuddle together in front of the fire during winter, and spent the summer splashing around in the pool outside.

Your relationship with the younger Robin was good too. You loved him dearly, and tried to be a good older sister to him, constantly giving him advice and being a listening ear if he ever needed one.

You were lucky.

You didn’t have a tragic backstory.

The only tragedy that you faced was the developing feelings for your older adoptive brother.

You probably fell in love with his smile the first time you met him. The smile that warmed you up and calmed you down. When Bruce took you in and introduced you to Dick Grayson, your breath hitched when you stared into his beautiful, perfect face and bright blue eyes.

And then your already wild imagination went ahead and got dirtier the more time you spent with him.

Summer was your favorite time of the year, because Dick Grayson during summer was a sight to behold.

The first reason was his skin. His skin got a bit tan during the summer due to the sun- and the fact that he liked to workout shirtless. He jogged shirtless, he swam shirtless, he helped Alfred mow the lawn shirtless. And so, the darker warm shade of his skin accentuated the contours of his muscles. At his face, his tanner skin made his blue eyes looked even more striking due to the contrast.

The second was due to the heat. The heat, on top of making him take off his shirt more, also made him sweat. His already tan, already magnificent body would glisten in the light from his sweat that made you feel like licking something. The sweat also made his musk stronger. It wasn’t body odour, but it was his smell. He smelt like citrus and candy lemon drops and for some reason, a scent that reminded you of rain. The heat also made him jump into the pool more with you, and you were able to appreciate him even more.

The third was his hair. Summer usually left you with greasy hair because of the excess sweat, but for some reason, Dick Fucking Grayson’s wavy hair was more alive and bouncy in the summer. It made you want to run your fingers in and pull and tug.

His hair was currently wet, though. Slicked to the back and dripping droplets of water down his defined cheekbones, you subconsciously licked your lips at the obscene way his mouth was slightly parted, panting as he finished his lap.

He looked at you from the pool and grinned widely, waving at you. You had just walked out to the pool to tell him something.

“Hey, sis!” he greeted. You hated when he called you that.

“Hey,” you walked over to the edge of the pool where he was and squatted down to his eye level, “Wanna watch a movie tonight? They just added this new horror movie on Netflix.”

You saw him frown and bite his lower lip, running a hand through his wet hair. It was the look he made when he was thinking of something, or deciding.

“Unless you have Nightwing duties,” you hurriedly added, forgetting that the rest of your family had their nights usually occupied.

“No, no,” he shook his head and smiled at you, “I can take a night off.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, “I don’t wanna hold you back from your responsibilities, or anything.”

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he assured you, “I like to watch movies with you. It’s a Friday night after all. I don’t want to leave you alone on your favorite night of the week.”

There it was. You loved it when he called you that.

“Okay!” you made a star jump from where you were, giggling in excitement, “Let’s watch it after dinner. We can make some popcorn, too.”

“Sounds great, sis!” he grinned at you. You forced your smile to stay where it was until he dived back underwater to continue his laps.

Your heart ached whenever he called you that.

You stared at him longingly as he did his butterfly, his back muscles flexing in the sun.

As much as you wanted him to think otherwise, he still saw you as his little sister, and nothing you could do can change that.

Not the short skirts and low tops, not by being touchy and clingy, and certainly not by wishing.

*** You heard Dick’s soft snores in your ear.

You couldn’t sleep, your heart was beating too fast.

After the movie, the two of you fell asleep on your bed, legs tangled, heads on the same pillow. You were facing him. You saw the outline of his face barely illuminated by the moonlight outside. You smiled.

His sleeping face was adorable.

He frowned slightly as he slept. It wasn’t because he was having a nightmare, it was just how he was. His lips were in a slight pout, his lower jutting out slightly.

You gulped.

You always imagined his lips on yours, and how soft they must feel.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

You always slept together like this, and some nights were harder than most. Most of the time, you could sleep soundly, even if he was spooning you from behind. You felt comfortable, and warm, and safe with him engulfing you into his heat.

Some of the nights, though, your brain went on hyperdrive, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Your imagination was running wild.

You imagined those lips on your flushed skin, or around your nipples, suckling, or kissing your sweet spot between your legs.

Your pussy was aching.

You opened your eyes to look at him, making sure that he was completely asleep. You then let your hand travel down your body and slip underneath the band of your shorts and panties, to between your folds.

You were surprised at how wet you already were. You didn’t expect to be dry, but you didn’t expect to be dripping either.

Your eyes were set on his lips as you rubbed your clit, sparking pleasure throughout your body. You wanted to close the distance and press your lips against his so bad, but your willpower was strong enough to resist.

You stopped rubbing, but slowly inserted your middle finger inside your entrance.

“Mmm,” you moaned before you could stop yourself. You paused in panic, and looked at Dick’s eyes, to see if they were open.

Thankfully, he was still fast asleep, his frown still evidently present.

You continued to take the risk and pump in another finger.

“Fuck,” you hissed. You were being reckless at this point, really. You knew that you found it hard to keep quiet when pleasuring yourself, yet here you were masturbating right in front of your adoptive brother.

You thanked whatever higher being there was that Dick was a heavy sleeper and miraculously have not woken up yet despite your heavy breaths, occasional moans, and squirming.

You felt your juices leak even more at the prospect of getting caught by him.

It was stupid, beyond insane, but somehow you were even more aroused that you were fucking yourself in front of him while he slept.

Your thoughts were hazy, a fire was pooling slowly at your core, and you knew you were going to come soon.

You sped your fingers up, closing your eyes.

“Ah, Dick,” you groaned softly, chasing your high, “I need you.”

But suddenly, you felt a hand around your moving wrist that forced your eyes open and made you jump.

“What,” Dick was looking at you intensely, his eyes hooded from sleep, “Are you doing?”

“Dick,” you breathed in panic, “Not- nothing. I was scratching my leg.”

“It didn’t sound like you were scratching your leg,” he said in a low voice.

Fuck.

“I was,” you lied desperately, “Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.”

You hurriedly turned your back towards him, your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.

“Hmm,” you heard him sigh behind you. He snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“How do you expect me to fall asleep now, sweetheart,” he muttered, hand suddenly gripping your hip so tight that it almost hurt.

You gasped when you felt something hard poking your ass. You heard him groan in frustration.

“This isn’t fair,” he choked, grinding his hard on into you once more, “This isn’t fucking fair.”

You’ve never heard him like this before. You’ve heard him mad, frustrated, tired. But not this. This was different.

“What isn’t?” you dared to ask.

You felt him still, a tired sigh, and then-

“Nothing,” he released you and then turned his back towards you too, “Go back to bed, sis.”

You remained quiet.

It took you almost the whole night to finally drift back to sleep.

***

You blinked yourself awake and immediately cringed at the light that poured through your pulled curtains. The warmth you felt behind you last night was absent, which meant Dick must have woken up earlier and intentionally pulled back the curtains for you. You groaned in your pillow at the reminded of what happened last night.

You got ready for the day and went down for breakfast, which you had in the kitchen on the island that Bruce made into a sort of breakfast bar.

When you were close to finishing, you heard the main door open and close, and in came Dick Grayson shirtless, sweaty, and panting right after his morning jog.

You made a point to ignore him and looked at your phone while gobbling up your scrambled eggs.

“Good morning, sis!” he chirped, pouring himself a glass of cold orange juice from the fridge, as if whatever happened last night didn’t happen.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled back with your mouth full.

“What’re you up to today?” he asked, pulling up a chair next to you. You tried to reel in your nerves. There was no reason to be jittery. If he was going to act like nothing happened, then you’ll gladly follow his lead.

“Nothing much,” you shrugged, “Work out a bit. Read a bit. Watch some TV?”

“Don’t you have friends to go out with or something?” he jested.

“Hey, I like staying home and lazing around,” you defended, finally turning away from your phone to look at him.

An action you regretted instantly.

He was looking at you with a slight smirk on his lips- which was glistening with orange juice. His hair was damp, some curls sticking to his sweaty forehead that made him look more boyish than usual.

The warm light that entered through the windows added on to his overall glow. He was like a bubbling ray of sunshine that made your breath hitch.

You tried hard to maintain eye contact, pretending to give him a slight glare by narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh, really?” he teased, “And here I thought it’s because you don’t have any friends to go out with.”

“I do,” you huffed, “They invite me out sometimes. I choose to stay home.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. But it’s okay if you don’t. I’m here. I’ll be your friend,” he grinned, adding a flirty wink.

Wait, a flirty wink?

You rolled your eyes at him and went back to your phone.

No, Dick is naturally flirty, you convinced yourself. He doesn’t realise it, but he’s like that to everyone.

“Anyway, I think I’ll be down in the Cave for a bit,” he told you, “If you need anything, just text me.”

“And what would I need from you, Dick Grayson?” you raised an eyebrow condescendingly at him.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze had changed to that of an intense stare, his jaw clenching and unclenching. And then-

“If you need someone to lift anything, or open jars, or do anything manly,” he suddenly changed into his usual cheerful self, even flexing and kissing his biceps for exaggeration, “These guns will help you out.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Whatever, Dick,” you shook your head at his idiocy and went back to your breakfast.

You did exactly what you said you would. You worked out, you read, and now you were lounging on the sofa in the living room watching TV. It was already in the late evening at the time Dick came and joined you.

He sat next to you, further away than usual.

After about ten minutes, he said, “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

“You’re the one who sat down far away,” you muttered to yourself, yet cuddled up next to him anyway.

You rested your head on his chest and leaned into him, as usual.

Another ten minutes passed by.

“We should talk about last night,” he suddenly brought up.

You tensed.

“What about last night?” you cautiously replied.

“You know,” he simply said.

You pulled away from him to look at him directly, showing him your fake confused face.

“I don’t?” you lied.

He sighed in frustration.

“You can’t lie to me, you know that right?” he told you, “I’m trained to detect lies, remember?”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. Deny, deny, deny. You didn’t care if it was obvious or not. You needed to keep denying.

“Okay, how about I start over then,” he gave you the same intense stare as before, “We should talk about how I caught you touching yourself.”

Your brain short circuited. You hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and straightforward about it. But you needed to respond before he realises that he hit the mark.

You burst out into laughter.

“Is that what you thought I was doing?” you chortled, “Holy shit!”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“What?” you continued to force yourself to laugh, “It’s funny! I told you that I was scratching.”

“Do you usually moan my name when you scratch yourself?” he snickered.

You almost dropped your smile the way your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Dick,” you smirked, “What dreams did you have last night? Are you sure you were even fully awake?”

“I’m pretty sure I can differentiate reality and my dreams, sweetheart,” he assured, “But you know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up anyway.”

He grabbed your head with his hand and pushed your head to his chest like you were before.

“There’s nothing to even bring up Dick,” you bit your lip in worry now that he wasn’t looking at you, “You’re delusional.”

“Don’t push it,” he quipped.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

***

The next time Dick ended up in your bed was 2 weeks later.

It was again, after a movie. The two of you fell asleep after under the covers, just like usual.

Dick had been acting normally, and in turn you did as well. It was as if that night had never happened. So, you could drift to sleep easily, despite him being there.

But something woke you up that night.

Your mind was still cloudy from sleep, and you weren’t sure whether you were dreaming or not. Now, you couldn’t tell if it was the slight movement of the bed that woke you up, or if it was the sounds you thought Dick was making.

Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him even if the moon shone a little bit brighter that night. But the bed was shaking very slightly, as if someone was absentmindedly jiggling their foot while lying down.

You frowned in the dark. Dick never really had the whole restless leg syndrome. You jiggled your knee while sitting down way more than he did.

But then you heard his soft sighs and moans. And then the haze in your mind cleared up completely, like a rush of cold water that woke you up, and you knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” you heard him whisper in a desperate tone you’ve never heard before.

Your heart was racing, thumping against your chest as if it was going to burst. You couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was doing the same thing you were two weeks ago.

You strained your ears even more.

You heard it now, the slick, wet sound of what you assumed was him jerking off his cock. You bit your lip. You wanted so much to see it.

Wait a second, a thought occurred to you. It wasn’t fair that he caught you and then acted all smug about it. No, you wanted to get him back as well.

You hurriedly thought hard about a smart thing to say that would leave him just as embarrassed as he made you.

“You know that I can hear you, Dick,” you finally voiced out, internally smacking your head for such a boring opening line.

You felt Dick still behind you.

“How long have you been listening?” he rasped.

“About a minute,” you gulped nervously.

A beat. And then-

“Shit,” he groaned, “That’s hot.”

He continued his movements.

Your eyes were opened wide, your mouth gaping at the shock of how easy he took it. That fucker even continued masturbating.

You’ve never witnessed this side of him before- ever. You didn’t even know he had this side. You thought he was just sunshines and rainbows, the warm older brother who incorrectly thought you were this innocent little girl he sworn to protect.

“Surprised?” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t in the first place.”

You made a move to turn around to face him.

“What are you- no, no, don’t,” Dick panicked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eyes up here,” you replied, now facing him.

He was lying on his back. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you could faintly see the outline of his face, his mouth slightly parted, panting. You were lying on his left side.

You saw a movement on his right, and then you heard the wet sounds again. Another sigh from Dick.

“You’re shameless,” you told him, “I wanted to embarrass you the same way you embarrassed me.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he stated, “Masturbating is healthy.”

“Masturbating in front of your adoptive sibling is healthy?” you chuckled.

“Only if the feeling’s mutual,” he gave what you thought was a smirk. It was hard to read his face in the dark.

“Fuck,” he swore again, and then a little calmer added, “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Then why aren’t you stopping?” you whispered.

“Because,” he paused, “Because it’s especially fucking hard to stop now that you’re watching.”

“Craving the centre of attention, just like always,” you teased.

You were surprisingly keeping it cool despite feeling wetness gush between your legs. If Dick can do it, why can’t you?

You brought a hand down under your waistband.

“No,” he suddenly protested, “You can’t do it with me.”

“Why not?” you moaned when you rubbed between your folds. You’ve never been that wet before.

“It’s wrong,” he choked.

“Oh, now it’s wrong?” you scoffed, “Fuck off, Dick. I’m going to touch myself with you.”

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you sound sexy,” he breathed hard, hand pumping harder.

“Mmm,” you hummed, feeling yourself getting slicker and slicker as you circled your sensitive nub.

You watched him intensely with hooded eyes. He was frowning as if he was deep in thought, and was now biting his lower lip.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart,” he groaned again, “You’re going to make me come.”

“Isn’t that- fuck- isn’t that the point?” you retorted, breath hitching.

He sped up even faster, and pumping even harder now that he didn’t need to hide it from you. You wanted so much to glance down, but you promised that you wouldn’t look. He was panting as if he was sprinting now.

You copied his actions, spreading your legs further apart to rub yourself. You felt the familiar heat pool at your lower stomach, the tingling in your toes.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whined.

“Me too,” you echoed.

“Don’t come with me,” he urged, “Please, don’t come with me.”

“I’m going to come, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m going to come with you.”

“No,” he protested, “Shit! I’m- fuck. Fuck.”

You felt his pumps became more erratic and messy, and he was moaning and groaning- as were you. The heat from your centre burst into waves of fire, feeling you clench and unclench your pussy.

You watched as Dick came. His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows furrowed, and his sound, god.

He didn’t come with a groan or a moan. He came in whimpers and whines. It sounded vulnerable, and desperate, and needy.

And then the two of you were panting in the darkness, wrapping your head around what had just happened.

You felt the bed shift, and saw Dick take off his shirt to wipe what you assumed was his cum from his stomach. You wanted to steal a look at his cock, but he had already pulled his sweatpants up. He threw the shirt to the floor and got beneath the blankets again with you.

Silence.

He sighed, and then pulled you closer to him. You rested your head on his chest and he slung an arm around your waist.

“I’m disgusting,” he whispered sadly.

“Then so am I,” you replied.

“It’s just- I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself,” he confessed, “When I heard you that night, moaning my name. Fuck. It wasn’t fair.”

Now you knew what tone of voice he used when he said that. It was him holding back, repressing himself.

“I don’t understand what you mean by it’s not fair,” you stated.

“It’s not fair that you can just- just go around looking like you do,” he elaborated, “Walking around with almost nothing on, squatting in front of me in your skirt while I’m in the pool, fucking masturbate next to me while I slept. It’s not fair that you can affect me so much, and I can’t do anything about it.”

You were so shocked by his confession that you couldn’t even think of retorting him by saying that he did the same.

“And then I’m in the same bed as you again,” he continued, “And you’re just there in your shorts and your tank top, and all I can think about is how you sound when you moaned my name. How long have you been touching yourself to me?”

“Uhm,” you hesitated, blushing slightly to yourself at the embarrassment, “Maybe one or two years.”

“Fuck,” he swore, “And I thought you were so fucking innocent. I felt bad for having dirty thoughts of you.

“Far from it,” you giggled.

He sighed again.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, Dick,” you tried to assure him, “We’ve only met 4 years ago. There’s nothing relating us to each other except documents. You don’t even have the Wayne name.”

“Still,” he weakly argued back, “I’m still as much your brother as Jason is mine.”

“But you don’t see me as a sister,” you debated.

“No, I don’t. Just- just go to bed okay? I love you,” he kissed you on your forehead.

“Love you too, Dick.”

And so, it started. Whenever Dick slept in your room, the both of you would sometimes masturbate together, never looking anywhere but each other’s faces. But sometimes you would sleep throughout the whole night, and sometimes you would end up touching yourself alone and once you were done, you would feel Dick press up his hard on against your ass but do nothing about it until the both of you fell asleep again.

And during the day, you would act like how you always acted. Like there was nothing going on at night between the sheets. Dick would be his usual cheerful, brotherly self. You didn’t have any other talks like you did again. It was mainly silence or single word answers, swears, and moans and his needy whines.

The longest sentence exchanged between the both of you at night would probably be Dick’s “You done? Go back to sleep.” He would, of course, cuddle up against you and maybe grind himself on you a few times.

But then that night happened.

The two of you had been doing this for 6 months already.

One night, you were in bed, not sleeping soundly but not fully awake either. You faintly heard the door opened and close. You opened your eyes and voiced out in the darkness.

“Dick?” you mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied softly, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

You heard his footsteps come closer to your bed. You blinked yourself awake.

“No, I wasn’t really sleeping,” you explained. He was standing by the side of your bed dressed in a plain white shirt and boxers. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I need you,” he whispered, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course,” you immediately sat up and pulled the covers, “Get in here.”

He snuggled up next to you, now lying down on his side facing you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Almost four in the morning.”

“You just got back from patrol?” you enquired.

“Yeah,” he simply said.

Your eyes darted across his face to see him in the dark. You noticed he had a butterfly BandAid across a cut on his right cheekbone. Your hands immediately went to caress it.

“Oh my god,” you whispered excitedly, “Nightwing got injured?”

“I’m not invincible you know,” he scoffed.

“Could have fooled me,” you smiled softly at him.

He didn’t reply, but you could feel his intense stare. You continued caressing his cheek.

“So who did it? Pyg? Zsaz?” you paused before you jokingly added, “Condiment King?”

Dick let out a chuckle at that.

“No,” he replied, his smile faltering, “It was Deathstroke.”

No wonder he had his panties in a bunch.

“Oh,” you simply responded, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he sighed, wrapping you with his arms and pulling you into his heat by your waist, “I just need you.”

You were so close to him, you could feel his warm breath on your face, his chest rise and fall against yours. Your lips were inches away from each other, and you suddenly felt some sort of pull.

You knew the term electricity sparking between two people was cheesy and overused, but it really was how you felt then. It was like some sort of static that pulled you in closer and closer to him, all the while your heartbeat felt like like it was drumming in your ears.

You suddenly felt hot, too hot. You had your air conditioner switched on and yet you felt like you were sweating. You were suddenly aware of his arms around you. He’s cuddled you like that many times before, but it seemed different tonight.

You noticed his toned biceps flexing around you, how his large warm hand settled at your lower back, burning the small patch of skin that was exposed from your shirt hiking up. You noticed one of his thighs were in between yours, and that your leg had subconsciously found its way up to his hips, almost straddling him sideways.

And you noticed how your core was pressed against his thigh, the pressure making you feel tingly. As if he read your mind, he pressed his thigh between yours harder.

“Dick,” you moaned.

“I need you,” he breathed, and repeated the action again.

You were both staring at each other’s lips. You saw his tongue quickly dart out to wet his lower lip. You both knew what was going to happen next, but it seemed like forever before he actually kissed you.

It didn’t really start out as a kiss at first. He simply pressed his lips against yours gently, like he was testing to see if it was okay. When you reciprocated by adding pressure to the kiss, then he started to ease into it, taking your lower lip into his mouth, adding small licks here and there.

But when you opened your mouth to give him access, it was like he snapped. He thrusted his tongue inside your mouth to taste you, and suddenly flipped you over, climbing on top of you.

He grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, all the while tongue fucking your mouth. You started mewling at the growing intensity of the kiss, and how he completely dominated it.

He broke off the kiss to rasp “I need you” once more, and then started going lower to suck and lick on the skin above your pulse. You felt him let go of your hands only for him to start feeling you up from beneath your shirt, bunching it up in the process. You let out a groan when he started massaging your breasts, playing with your nipples.

In one swift motion, he pulled your top over your head and tossed it onto the floor. He then immediately went to your nipple and took it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, all the while pulling and pinching the other with his finger.

He traveled lower again, and forced your thighs apart with his hands, immediately burying his face in between your thighs. He started mouthing you over your sleeping shorts, making it grow damper with both your slick and his saliva.

“Dick,” you begged.

He took them off smoothly.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You felt your face heat up when he complimented you. You felt a bit vulnerable, your legs spread and fully exposed to him. But all the nervousness disappeared when he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, making you shudder in the intense, unfamiliar pleasure.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he teased, his hot breaths sending bolts of electricity over your pussy. He dove in again.

He groaned around your sensitive bud, his vibrations almost completely unraveling you. Suddenly you felt him insert a finger into you while lapping at your clit.

“Oh, God,” you whined, “Fuck, Dick, please.”

He curled his finger upwards to massage the sweet spot inside you, causing you to thrash about, your hands flying from above your head to his soft curls. You tugged on his hair as he continued to drink you up, making him moan as well.

He added a second finger.

You felt the familiar heat build and build as he worked your pussy with his mouth and hands.

He added a third.

“Dick,” you choked, “I’m gonna-”

And then everything you felt was gone. Dick was now kneeling on the bed in between your legs, suddenly shirtless and grinning, his mouth glistening with your juices.

“No,” you whimpered, “More.”

You started bucking your hips in vain to relieve some of the tension that he built.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” his voice was suddenly at your ear, “I need you. I need to feel you. Can I?”

“Please,” you whined, canting your hips to meet his. You felt his hard on poking at you through his boxers, begging for attention.

“You want my cock, baby?” he purred, “You want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” you repeated, your mind was hazy, and it was like the only word you knew how to say.

“Okay, baby, I’ll give you my cock,” his breath tickled your ear.

You felt the bed shift, and you didn’t even realise that your eyes were closed. You opened them and saw Dick position himself between your spread legs, his shorts gone. Suddenly, you felt nervous again.

“Uhm, Dick?” you voiced out.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied, one hand wrapped around his leaking shaft, the tip wet and reflecting what little light there was.

“Is… that normal?” you pointed to his cock.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Is it normal for a penis to be that big?”

He grinned at you and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he winked, “I know it’s your first time, so I’ll take it slow, okay?”

“O-okay,” you stuttered.

He aligned his cock at your hole, pushed in slightly, but then took it away to rub it between your wet folds.

Your breath hitched.

He repeated what he did, pushed in a bit more, only to take it out again.

“Jesus, Dick,” you gasped, “I know you said to take it slow, but-”

You let out a long moan when he finally pushed it in beyond the bell of his head, causing you to wince slightly at the stretch.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, still pushing it in dangerously slow.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you panted, “Oh fuck, you’re huge. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He stilled as soon as he bottomed out in you, a thumb rubbing your clit to distract you from the almost pleasurable but still painful stretch.

But god, the sensations you felt.

You felt so full, and so good, and like your whole body was on fire. The way he filled you up meant that he was touching every single spot inside you that gave you pleasure.

You weren’t the only one who was whimpering.

You saw Dick with his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip bit. He was breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he choked, “Fuck. You feel- fuck.”

“You can move, please,” you instructed.

“You sure?” he whispered.

“Yes, Dick, please.”

He pulled out slowly, but not completely, and he pushed back in.

“Your walls are clinging onto my cock, fuck,” he described.

Indeed, you felt it too. It was like your body didn’t ever want his cock to leave you.

He leaned over you and propped his elbows at either side of your face, his hips still thrusting in and out. You could see the droplets of sweat on his forehead, and smell his familiar citrusy scent along with his salty musk.

You adjusted to his size quickly enough, because soon, you needed more.

“Faster, please,” you told him.

His pace quickened ever so slightly.

It was better, but still not enough. You wanted to feel him, every inch of him. You were greedy for his cock, and greedy for your high.

“Faster,” you pleaded.

He obeyed, but it still wasn’t enough. You knew he was still holding back.

“God dammit, Dick Grayson,” you angrily cried out, “I’m not going to fucking break, so go the fuck faster.”

“Fine,” he panted above you, “You want fast? I’ll give you fast.”

He snapped his hips, and you got the breath knocked out of you.

He started pummeling into you, drilling his cock violently into your pussy.

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t scream your lungs out at the intense pleasure you felt as he pounded you.

“This fast enough for you, sweetheart?” he breathed.

You couldn’t form a snarky reply, hell, you couldn’t form any words at all. The only word you knew was his name and ‘Please’, which you chanted like a mantra, all the while not even knowing what you were pleading for.

The sound of the room was filled with your heavy breaths and vulgar sounds, the slapping of his cock into you and the wet slick that you knew came from your dripping slit.

“Fuck, I need you,” he suddenly crashed his lips into you, violating your mouth with his tongue, his thrusts never faltering.

You felt the previous orgasm build again, but this time it was different from any other you’ve felt. You felt like your vision was getting narrower, like you were seeing white light, slowly building and building its intensity.

“Dick,” you choked.

“Me too, baby, me too,” he muttered, his rhythm now getting sloppy, his moans and groans now replaced with new sounds, the sounds you knew he made when he came.

And then it finally came, you felt yourself flutter around his length, a hand covering your mouth which meant that you must have been making a lot of noise that you didn’t notice.

And then you didn’t hear nor see anything but white static, and an electrical fire that burst throughout your whole body. When you were slowly coming down, you heard him.

His whines and whimpers.

You felt him pull out from your cunt, the sudden emptiness slightly surprising you, and he came all over your stomach in streaks of white.

Your vision was still cloudy, but you could see clearly that he was still hovering above your body, propped up with one arm next to your head, sweating with his eyes closed and breathing hard.

With a groan, he sat up and took his shirt he discarded from before to wipe you clean.

He collapsed next to you and pulled you close, giving you a kiss on the nose.

“That was- wow,” he chuckled.

“Agreed,” you giggled, looking at him endearingly. He looked completely wiped out.

“I love you,” he said, “But no one can know about us, okay? At least, for now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “But, Dick?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want us to pretend like this never happened in the morning,” you whispered, “I don’t want us to act like normal even when we’re alone.”

“Me neither,” he sighed, caressing your cheek, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that before. I just wanted to live in denial. I didn’t want to face my issues.”

“I know,” you smiled softly, “It’s okay. I know it’ll take time for you to get over your guilt or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” he scoffed, “It’s complicated, you know, seeing that I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Whatever,” you lightly teased, “As long as you stop calling me ‘sis’, I’ll be good.”

“Yeah, I only called you that to try to tell myself what you’re supposed to be for me,” he confessed, “But now that’s obviously out the window, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

“No problem, bro.”

The last sound you heard him make before you drifted to sleep was a yelp that you elicited from him by smacking him on his head.

#Dick Grayson x reader #dick grayson reader imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #robin #jason todd #dc #dc comics #dc universe

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trexrambling · 5 years

Text

‘Till The End

Summary: Sam and Dean reminisce about the past.

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: mild language, feeeeeeeeeeeels

Request: Sam and Dean are reminiscing and the Nair incident comes up, leading Sam to share some feelings and things he has never opened up to Dean about. And Dean really listens and hears him. If you make me cry a little that would be lovely. - @awesomesusiebstuff

A/N: Hope you like how it turned out, lovely :) It went a completely different direction than I was originally intending...

The worn, bound photo album hit the table with a loud thump, causing Sam to jump slightly. A rise of dust accompanied it, making his nose itch with the onset of a sneeze that he quickly rubbed away with the side of his hand.

“Man oh man, Sammy,” Dean gleefully chimed, pulling out a chair and joining him at the long desk, “you won’t believe what I found.”

“Hopefully the manuscript we’ve been looking for. Or weapons. You know, the whole point of you going to dig through some of Dad’s old storage units?”

“Even better.” Dean spun the album towards him and cracked open the cover, a wide smile on his face.

A faded family picture took up the whole first page, and Sam quickly leaned closer. “Is that-”

“Us, yeah.” Dean’s fingers gently traced the worn outline, of John with an arm around Mary and one hand holding Dean’s while Mary cradled Sam against her chest. An offset look filled his eyes before he collected himself again. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

The playful tone was back, and Sam felt a small twist of dread in his gut that instantaneously manifested into a loud groan when Dean’s hurried flipping finally landed on the sought after page.

“How the hell does that photo even exist?” He reached out to grab the book, but Dean hastily slid it from his grasp.

“Careful, Sammy. You’ll bend the pages.”

“Good.”

“This photo is priceless.”

“I’m bald.”

Dean lost his composure then, a loud laugh rolling from his gut. “Oh man, I’d forgotten that I’d taken this when you weren’t looking. To think that this has been hidden from us all these years when we could have been appreciating the glory of-” Dean flipped the photo towards him with a flourish- “my adorable brother Sam in the most stylish of hats-” Dean’s finger tapped the photo for emphasis- “to hide his balding self from his prom date.”

“I hate you.”

Dean chuckled again, turning the photo back to his viewpoint, “Hey, you started that one, Sammy. Had it coming.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I put glitter in the vents of your car. I don’t think that merited ruining the social standing of my life in high school.”

Dean glanced up, “It was my car, Sam.”

“I had to wear a fedora I found at the Salvation Army, and then a beanie in ninety degree weather the rest of the year. People kept asking if I had cancer.”

Dean snorted and went back to flipping through the album. Sam leaned back in his chair with a sigh, his mind starting to wander amongst all the details of that year.

“Hey... do you remember Mrs. Ambrose?”

Dean looked up slowly, his eyes narrowing, “The old lady that lived a few streets over from our apartment complex? Not really.”

“She wasn’t old, Dean. She was actually probably the same age you are now,” Sam added, a glint in his eye.

Dean let out a hmmmpff, “I remember you being over there more than you were with us most days after school.”

Sam remembered that, too. How she used to help him with his homework, how she convinced him to stay for dinner almost every night, made him lunches for school the next day. How she let him talk about things he was too embarrassed to discuss with Dean, like girls and fears of moving again and how he didn’t want to be a part of their family business when he graduated, all while she knitted in her worn arm chair, nodding alongside his words and offering her insights when she could. He remembered taking her labrador retriever, Macey, for walks and helping her mow her lawn. He remembered her sharing story after story about her daughter, who had just left for college that year, studying at Stanford. And, most importantly...

“You know, she offered to let me live with her.”

Dean visibly froze, halfway through turning a page of the photo album. He closed the cover instead and slowly sat it back down on the table. “She what?”

“Yeah. She said that she wanted to give me somewhere to stay my senior year so I didn’t have to change schools again.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s tone was short now, almost sharp. “And you actually-”

“No!” Sam interjected. He swallowed, rubbed the palm of his hand. “Well...okay, maybe I did consider it. But I knew it could never happen. I knew Dad would never-”

“So you wanted to,” Dean deadpanned back. Sam couldn’t quite read the look on his face - maybe angry, maybe sad, more likely a mixture of both.

Sam sighed, “That was so long ago, Dean. Why does it even matter now?”

Dean shrugged, “You brought it up, so it obviously matters to you.”

A silence stretched across the room, neither brother saying anything. Sam finally reached out across the table and slid the photo album closer to himself, opening the cracked pages and rifling through them until he found a photo he wanted - him and Dean with wide smiles on their faces, holding a sled bound together with copious amounts of duct tape at the top of a snowy hill.

“Do you remember that Christmas?”

Dean’s eyes flitted to the photo, “You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m not-” Sam sighed exasperatedly- “just... do you remember it? How we found that sled in the dumpster and you ‘fixed’ it for us?”

“Hey, don’t finger quote my ‘fixing’. It worked great.”

Sam let out a short laugh, “Dean, it splintered into at least five pieces on the way down that hill.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turned up, “Yeah... but it was a hell of a ride.”

Sam nodded slowly in agreement and slid the photo album back to Dean. “You’ve done stuff like that for me my whole life, always looked out for me, even if it was you who got us into the mess in the first place.”

“So why bring up Mrs. Ambrose?”

Sam’s brow furrowed, thinking through how to best articulate his next thoughts. “She... For that short time, it was like I had a mom. Someone to make sure I did my homework and ask me about how my day at school had gone. I don’t know, Dean... I wanted that. I felt cheated from that part of life for so long, and someone was suddenly there, offering it to me with no strings attached.”

Dean nodded, silently listening.

“But... I couldn’t do it. I never could have left you and Dad. Not just because Dad would never have let me leave, but because I knew it was almost summer, and you’d promised to take me on a road trip to see the Spy Museum in D.C..”

“You always were a nerd.”

“We both know you wanted to see the gadgets as badly as I did.”

Dean smiled, “Yeah, maybe. We never ended up making it, though.”

Sam’s jaw clenched sightly, “The case in Saratoga.”

“Yeah. Nasty one.”

Sam nodded and shifted his weight in the chair. “I think... I think that was when I decided to try to make it to college. To Stanford, like Mrs. Ambrose’s daughter had.”

"Huh.”

“Do you still hate me for going?”

Dean looked up sharply, his eyes meeting Sam’s. “Hate you? Sam, I never hated you.” Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean sighed, “Okay, maybe for a week or two I did. But I think something always told me you’d come back, and until then... I knew you were happy.”

“And here we are,” Sam continued, “living in an underground bunker, three friends to our name, have started and stopped the end of the world more times than the average guy. We’ve traveled all across the country and back to pick up cases, we’ve flown on cursed airplanes and even went on that boat that one time to-”

“Hey,” Dean cut in, “we promised to never mention that again.”

Sam huffed air out his nose in amusement, but let the topic pass. “Hell, Dean, we’ve been to Heaven and Hell, Purgatory and other dimensions of this world. And, after all these years, we still haven’t been to the Spy Museum.”

He’s smiling when he says it, his voice lighthearted, but he can tell by the look on Dean’s face that he needs to say more.

“Dean, you know I wouldn’t trade what we’ve done, what we’ve accomplished, for anything. We’ve come too far to think like that anymore.”

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, “Not even for a full head of hair your junior year?”

Sam laughed, rich and hearty, “That is a strong contender.” He reached out and placed his hand firmly on Dean’s forearm. “But no, man. We’re brothers - together, ‘till the end.”

He let his hand rest there for a few moments, giving a small squeeze of reassurance before he got up to leave. His fingers found the photo album, lightly touching the brown leather. “Glad you found this.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “me too.”

He waited for Sam to exit the room before he found and opened his laptop, quickly navigating to the website for the International Spy Museum.

Tickets: $26.

He smiled as he bought two for the week of May 2nd.

___________________________________

My Forever Lovelies: @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda @ruprecht0420 @arryn-nyxx @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-naturall @aiaranradnay @percywinchester27 @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke @escabell @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @deanssweetheart23 @oneshoeshort @claire-of-the-country @keelzy2 @angelsandwinchesters @findingfitnessforme @luulaachops @tas898 @221b-cfordwrites @keepcalmandcarryondean @ravengirl94 @hollygopossumlovesj2 @hennessy0274-blog @mickey-m399 @autopistaaningunaparte @fandomismyspirit @anticipate1003 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @boxywrites @sylverminx @watermelonfruitsalad @darthdeziewok @amionthetumbler @smalltowndivaj @supernatural-girl97 @sujuvixxo @imgetting2old4diss @karlilarki @amanda-teaches @impala-dreamer @kristaparadowski @dancingalone21 @mjdoc90 @jeanjeaniethings @ja9erz @masksandtruths @wildlandfox @deanandcassiefan @sandlee44 @obsessivecompulsivespn @poukothenerd @michellethetvaddict @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @blackcherrywhiskey @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @fanfreak07 @cassieraider @there-must-be-a-lock @oh-balls-you-idjits @speakinvain @ellen-reincarnated1967 @atc74 @yourvoiceislikearose @superwholockmarauder @copperseraphim @mouselovesmusic @petra-arkanian-1497 @kornerstone234 @spnbaby-67 @wickidlady @dapresidentsshoelaces @claitynroberts @amythyststorm33 @sleepless-sin @hunterswearingplaid @andkatiethings @waywardrose13 @salt-n-burn-em-all @deansenwackles @calaofnoldor @imsuperawkward

#till the end #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester brothers #brothers to the end

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sweetcatmintea · 4 years

Text

So I’m a Vampire now...

Hello hello! It’s flash fiction Friday again! (Hurray!) Guess who still hasn’t learnt to stick to a word limit: This creature! (I’m so sorry <u<;;;;) Anyways, this kinda snuck up on me and I couldn’t think of anything better than this little vampire drabble. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

FFF is hosted by @flashfictionfridayofficial

Prompt: Deep End Words: 1665

----

“And we’ll have fun fun fun unt- Michael, put the rock down.” I hoped my voice conveyed how done I was with his reaction. Michael stood, back to the old jeep his mum let him borrow when he mowed the lawn, arm raised, poised to bash my head in with a sizable chunk of concrete. Vanessa wondered back to him from the direction of the mostly closed shops, an eyebrow quirked above her glasses.

“I swear to god, put the rock down. I’m not here to gogurt you.” Why do I have to be friends with an idiot?

He held firmer to his makeshift weapon. “Prove it. I can see the blood lust in your eyes.”

I pressed a palm into my forehead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. “Yeah, my eyes dilated. Y’know, that thing that happens when you are happy to see your friends. Go repeat bio. If I was gonna slurp your guts, I wouldn’t be singing the beach boys and waltzing up to you like a door knocker asking for money. Especially not after I asked you for a lift.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at me. “Unless that’s what you want us to think. I know you Jessie. You’re sneaky.”

“Oh my god, why are you so dumb? Vanessa, can you PLEase talk some sense into him.”

Vanessa knocked the rock out of his hand, pitching it across the desolate car park before he could react. She should go into a ball sport. I don’t know, baseball or something. It clattered somewhere in the distance.

“Michael, stop being weird. We both know Jessie could have pinned you before they got turned. Your noodle arms can barely open a particularly sturdy container. You’re just making them feel unwelcomed. And being a trashy friend.”

“All true.” I nodded. “Plus, it’s not like I chose to get turned. If that loser Josh hadn’t done me dirty last week, I’d be at home feeding my Tamagotchi. Has he even reported me missing yet?”

Michael mumbled a sheepish apology. “Sorry, I was just worried you’d gone off the deep end all blood lusty or something…”

I waved it off. I wasn’t really angry. It’s not like we’d exactly been in this situation before.

Vanessa shook her head, giving me a one-armed greeting hug which I, of course, returned. “He hasn’t mentioned it. I mean, you have been reported missing. That was a whole thing that happened with your parents and then us pretending like you weren’t texting us because how do you tell someone their kid is off getting the lowdown on being undead, but yeah, not reported by Josh.”

“What a soggy zit. I swear, when I get my hands on him.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Michael and Vanessa shared a worried look.

“What? No. Of course not! That’s disgusting. You think I’m gonna put my face hole anywhere near that slimy weasel and voluntarily drink two thirds of his blood?? Do you know how long that would even take?”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “Well, I kinda thought you’d y’know, snap his neck or something now you have super strength…”

“Who’s gone off the deep end now?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not some killing machine. I’ll just dob him in and let him flounder some explanation for how he shoved me at the burglar while we were closing up shop and ran away. He’s lucky it was a vampire and not some lunatic or I’d really be dead.”

Vanessa plopped down on a concrete chock block, sipping her bubble tea and settling in for a long conversation. It was wild, I could hear the jelly in the cup squishing together. Michael sat to her side, patting the ground to invite me to complete the triangle. I obliged.

Vanessa started us off. “So what’s it like? Being all vampirey now?”

“Well, I’ve got cool powers now. Not the powers of being cool, I already had that.”

It was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes at me. I elbowed him in the ribs. Gently. Breaking bones had become a real danger. He snorted a laugh, almost shooting red bull up his nose.

“I got these neato glow in the dark eyes. Don’t know if you can turn that off. They do the cat slit thing though which is interesting. I can see So much more at night. But I think I need reading glasses now? Can’t make out squat near my face in the day.”

Shuffling around in the pockets of my oversized 90s jacket, I retrieved a packet of dried wasabi peas and munched away as I talked.

“I’m like, crazy strong. No kidding, I accidentally ripped my favourite jeans on the second day of being a vampire. Just tugged them a liiiittle too hard and bam, ruined pants.”

“Have you got fangs?” Vanessa peered closer at my mouth. It would have been better to ask that before I started eating.

“Fangs for the memories, even if they weren’t so- nah, I’m just kidding. I got them.” I bared my teeth at them, poking the lengthened canines with an index finger. “They’re sharp as anything. I’ve drunk more of my own blood than anyone else’s ‘cause I keep biting my freaking tongue. Reminds me of being little and sucking a candy cane into a shank. I’m surprised none of us got an impromptu festive tongue piercing off those things.”

“Speaking of blood… Do you need to drink it now?” They both leaned forward, anxious for my answer.

“Oi, quit it with the looks. I’m not going to freaking bite you. I’m not some mindless animal, I’m just me. Just Jessie.”

“Is there a difference there?” Michael’s ribbing was, for once, welcome.

“Hardy har. Yes, I mean, technically, I have to consume blood. But, like, the pamphlet seems to say that it’s basically a supplement more than anything so I’ve just gotta eat normal stuff and chuck back a shot or two after.”

“Okay, two things. First, human blood?”

“Again. Eww. Do you have any idea how many diseases are in human blood? There’s a reason we haven’t literally eaten the rich yet. To be fair, I’m somewhat immortal now so I won’t get sick physically, but emotionally? Imagine the toll.”

“So how do you..?”

“You know you can just go to the butchers and buy blood right? It’s like an actual cooking ingredient. It comes in blocks. It tastes like satan’s toe jam but you just gotta chuck it back real quick. Or, I’m getting a fondness for black pudding. It too tastes like feet but isn’t as bad.”

Vanessa took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “Okay. Second thing. Pamphlet?”

“Oh yeah, this thing.” I fished it out of my other pocket, passing it to them. The vampire pr committee went to great lengths to make it cute with little cartoon vampires giving advice on this time of change, talking about how your body is changing and the strange things you may feel.

“Aww that’s super cute.” Vanessa pointed to a little vampire on the cover, handing it to Michael when she was finished skimming.

“I know right. Apparently they got tired of the old program where you get bitten and have to have an awkward talk with the weirdo who kinda killed you.”

Michael handed the pamphlet back. “Speaking of, what was it like living with a vampire for a week?”

I groaned. “Oh my god, he was insufferable. At first it was like ‘I vill show you ze vorld, shining shimmering splendour va ha ha’ which was neat but then it got all ‘I’ve turned you into a monster! You will suffer for eternity! Woe is ze life of an immortal. I am so sorry va ha ha’. Which I’m like, yeah you could have at least asked my name first or waited for my hair to grow out a little instead of sticking me with this too short for the long style, too long for the short style do I’ve gotta rock for the rest of time, but all in all, it’s not the worst that could happen so chill a little maybe?”

“Aw, poor guy. He doesn’t sound that bad.” Vanessa was much less, judgey, than me. I kinda felt bad for ripping on the man.

“Okay, he’s not terrible, but the lamenting. God, the lamenting. ‘Woe is me, I have seen so many seasons I can not even remember my age.’ Why don’t you just get a calculator and subtract this year from your birth year? Then you can know that bit. ‘Oh, but ze isolation! My human friends are long dead and buried!’ That’s super sucky bro. Why don’t you make some new friends and ask if they want to be turned? Or like, go on immortalsingles.com and get a butt touch buddy? With the internet age, it’s a lot easier to connect. ‘oh but who could love a monster like me? I haven’t even seen my face in five hundred years va ha ha.’ There is a Whole genre of people online (and in line) for that. And just, update your mirrors. Get a cheap one and it won’t have silver in it and you can see your face again. I kinda think he just enjoys lamenting. If he’d get with the times, things wouldn’t be half as unpleasant for him.”

“You’re not a very empathetic listener, are you.” That’s a lot coming from the guy who was going to stone me fifteen minutes ago.

“Hey! I hooked him up to the internet and gave him my number. I didn’t just leave him.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say Jessie.” Michael got up, brushing his jeans off and stretching. Vanessa and I followed suit. One thing remained on my mind. Something I needed to prepare myself for.

“Okay, before we head home, I have one last, very important question.”

They looked at me quizzically.

“Has anyone been looking after my Tamagotchi?”

-----

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withoutmonsters · 4 years

Text

Freedom from the Day

Ask and you shall receive! @okayshitbird, you wanted to read a fic about Max and Billy sneaking out Billy’s window to explore San Diego, so here it is! You said you wanted to hear about them exploring some restaurants, I hope a food truck counts. Read on ao3

“Max,” Billy hisses, holding his arms out and gesturing for her.

She crouches by the window, biting her lip with wide eyes. “Are you sure?” she breathes, glancing back to Billy’s door.

Billy rolls his eyes. “Yes, Max, I’m sure. Now get going. Hand me the skateboard.”

Max passes it through the open window. It’s smaller than Billy’s, made for a child instead of a young teenager. When Max and her mother had first moved in with the Hargroves, she had been enchanted with Billy’s skateboard, bugging him for weeks and weeks until he had finally let her ride it. Billy would never let Max knows this, but he thought that Max was a natural on the skateboard. He had been considering buying her one as a sort of welcome gift. But Susan had scolded her for it, saying that it wasn’t ladylike for a girl to ride a skateboard. It was obviously something that was meant to discourage both of them from letting Max ride in the future, but all that had done was cement it for Billy. He’d gone out, using the money that he’d earned mowing the neighbor’s lawn, to buy her a smaller one, since his was much too unwieldy for a nine-year-old.

“Come on,” Billy snaps, gesturing again. “We don’t have all night, Max. We need to go.”

Max casts one more glance into the house and then fits herself through the window, slight shoulders ducking through, followed by her torso. Billy catches her arms, grunting as she gives him all her weight. He grabs her waist and bodily hauls the rest of her through the window, clumsily setting her down once her feet are out.

She’s smiling, blue eyes bright bright in the night and a gap-toothed grin wide on her freckled face. Billy raises an eyebrow. “You weren’t this excited about a minute ago.”

Max raises her chin regally. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m excited! We get to go skate! With Tomas and Domingo!”

Billy tries to hold back a smile at that and fails. He had been prepared to hate Maxine forever when his father had first introduced them. Billy had been mean to her the first week, but every sneer was met with one of her own, each pinch and prod met with an answering slap and hit until he learned not to pick on her. But somehow, Max had wormed her way into his good graces, with every wide-eyed stare and enthusiastic cheer for every skateboard trick that he’d learned. He’d even let her go out on his surfboard, red hair fire against the waves and little body surprisingly strong against the movement of the board. She was a natural, just like she was at skating.

Billy snorts. “Tomas and Domingo think you’re a little pest.”

That isn’t true at all. Tomas particularly had taken quite the shine to Max, promising to teach her how to make tamales when Christmas rolled around and murmuring quiet endearments of, “Shhh, mija, it’ll be fine,” when Neil was loud with Billy.

Tomas always joked that he wanted a nice little sister instead of a demon of a twin while cuddling Max, and then Domingo would give that devilish grin and jump on them and start a tickle fight for the ages. Billy would make sure to pull Max out before the brothers got too rough, but then would dive in enthusiastically, laughing and shouting and roughhousing until they were a sweaty, breathless heap on the beach, sand in places where sand shouldn’t be, hair mussed and smiles so bright they rivaled the sun. And if Billy got a little too breathless when he felt Domingo’s hands on him, well, no one had to know.

Max turns her chin up. “That’s a lie, Billy. You’re a filthy liar. I’m telling Mom.”

“Oh?” Billy scoffs. “So you’re gonna tell her that we snuck out in the middle of the night to go skate with Domingo and Tomas? Good luck with that.”

Max pouts. Billy laughs softly, ruffling her hair, before he scoops up his skateboard. “Come on.”

Max picks up her own board and follows Billy through the patchy grass and goat heads to the sidewalk. He places his skateboard down and pushes off, checking over his shoulder to make sure she does the same, and then they’re off. The boards make a ticking noise as they go over each crack in the sidewalk, invisible weeds brushing Billy’s flip-flopped feet as they pass, feeling like spiders in the night.

The air is cool coming off the ocean, the breeze bringing the salty brine smell that opens up Billy’s lungs and makes him feel like he’s floating. He closes his eyes and tilts his face up and lets himself enjoy the freedom from the day.

Max and Billy head towards the skate park near the beach, having arranged to meet the twins at 1. This is not Billy’s first time sneaking out, but Max had caught him last time and insisted on coming or she would tell Neil. So this is Billy fulfilling Max’s pushy request, because his blood curdles at the thought of what Neil would do if he caught Billy sneaking out.

When they are down the block, Billy diverts into the street, knowing that it would be safer than on the thin sidewalk. Max follows him, weaving her board dangerously, teeth bright white and glinting out of her grin. Billy laughs as the board veers wildly and she stumbles off it, feet slapping the pavement loudly as catches herself.

“That’s what you get!” He calls back to her as he pumps his leg and goes faster.

“Asshole!” she shouts back.

They make it to the skate park a little late, Billy boosting Max over the fence before following her. They head into the grass on either side, lined by trees and swathed in dark shadows. Billy whistles shrilly, grinning as he sees two shadows jump.

“Mija!” A delighted voice calls from the side, and then Tomas is emerging from the trees and beaming widely.

Max takes a moving jump from her board, landing hard in the grass and running to leap at him. He catches her, laughing and grinning. “That was good! You timed it much better this time!”

“I know,” Max tosses her hair, shifting her body so that she’s in a princess hold instead of awkwardly clutched to Tomas’s chest. “I’m great like that.”

Tomas laughs loudly. “That you are, little bird. That you are.”

He drops her onto her feet and ruffles her hair. “Oh, hi, Billy. Didn’t see you there. Max was too busy outshining you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure. Fuck you, asshole.”

Tomas snickers, offering his hand. Billy claps his hand to Tomas’s clenching it into a fist and knocking their knuckles together. “Where’s Domingo?”

“Comin’. He wanted a taco.”

Max brightens. “Can I have a taco?”

“No, Max—” Billy starts, because he knows that if he starts fucking up her food schedule, Neil will have his hide, but Tomas interrupts.

“Sure! C’mon, mija, I’ll get you some. What do you want?”

“Carne Asada. And Pork Carnitas. Oh! And can I get some of their ice cream?”

Tomas laughs. “What, did your mom not feed you or something?”

Max pouts. “I just want some Horchata ice cream, Tomas.”

“I think he might have one or two ice cream sandwiches left.”

Max brightens.

“You know we came here to skate, right?” Billy calls. Tomas flips him off over his shoulder.

Billy huffs, popping his board up and grabbing it, following them to the other end of the park, where they climb another fence and come out on a street where a food truck is parked. Technically it wasn’t open, but the three of them had been regulars for so long that Domingo could knock on the window and the chef (who lived in the back and drove to different cities along the west coast as well as Mexico) would cook them what they wanted as long as they had the money.

Domingo is standing in front of the truck when they walk up, laughing at something the chef said.

“Hey, Tio,” Tomas greets as they stop next to his brother.

“Jesus,” Angel groans as he sees the extra people. “Do you little shits never eat, or something?”

Billy laughs under his breath as Domingo ducks his head. “Please, Tio Angel. We’ll pay, we promise!”

Angel scrubs his hand over his face. “Y’all are the worst, you got that? I swear.”

Doming gave him a bright smile that punched a hole in Billy’s chest. “Thank you so much!”

“What do you want?”

Max perks up, rattling off her order in a voice that is fairly presumptuous, considering it’s the middle of the night and Domingo probably dragged Angel out of bed for food. Tomas adds his own order, leaning his arms on Max’s head and making her grumble.

Domingo catches Billy’s eye. “And a Chicken Tinga and an Al Pastor, please. Oh, and some Refritos and Elote.”

Billy makes a noise in the back of his throat. “No, Domingo, I can’t pay for that—”

Domingo cuts him a look. “I can.”

“I don’t need your goddamn charity—”

“It’s not charity, cabron, I’m just buying you tacos, goddamn.”

Billy opens his mouth but Domingo cuts him off with a finger pressed to his lips. Billy’s protest dies in his throat with a strangled noise. Domingo gives him a secret smile, pulling out a wallet and slapping down a ten-dollar bill.

Angel takes the money and brings back change. “It’ll be out in a little while, shitstains. Try not to make too much trouble in the meantime.”

“Thanks, Tio!” Max chirps, scooping up her board and pushing off.

Angel’s face transforms from long-suffering to fond in a split second. “You assholes are bad for her,” he says, pointing at Tomas.

Tomas gives him a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on his chest for added effect. “How can you say that, Tio? We are teaching her the fine arts of sneaking out and talking food out of even the most unwilling chefs. Those are great skills! She’ll use them for the rest of her life!”

Angel snorts. “Sure, dickhead . Whatever you say.”

Domingo slings a hand over Billy’s shoulder. “So, where do you want to sit?”

Billy has to swallow before answering. “I wanted to skate, asshole.”

Domingo scoffs. “Too late. You get food now.”

Billy grumbles but follows Max, who is waving from a table at the end of the block. Domingo steers Billy that way, Tomas staying behind to get the food. When they reach the table, Domingo sits so that his thigh is matched along Billy’s, shoulder to shoulder and breath brushing Billy’s ear as he looks at him.

“How was Neil?”

Billy shrugs. “Not too bad, actually. He’s been preoccupied with getting Susan settled at her new job, so.”

Domingo nods, leaning into Billy. “Did he give you any trouble?”

Billy shakes his head. They sit like that, matched thighs and breaths even as Max chatters at Domingo about a new trick Billy was trying to teach her. Tomas comes by with the food piled high in his arms: two tacos and a churro ice cream sandwich for Max, four tacos for Domingo, an additional three tacos for himself, and two for Billy. They share the Elote and Refritos among them, using forks provided by Angel to scoops out bites as they chat.

Billy leans more into Domingo, the other boy shifting so that his front is pressed into Billy’s side, one arm wrapped around Billy’s shoulders while the other one scoops stray corn bits out of the container of Elote. The ocean breeze sweeps over them, ruffling Max’s hair and picking up the bag and dancing it across the table. Tomas snatches it out of the air before it can be carried away, laughing as Domingo teases Billy gently about his wipeout on his surfboard earlier today.

Billy leans his head on Domingo’s shoulder, eyes drifting close.

“Aww,” Max teases. “Is it past the old man’s bedtime?”

Billy cracks one eye, glaring at her. “Shut up, Maxine. I’m 13, not 30.”

Max snorts. “You act like a 30-year-old.”

Billy makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I do not!”

Max sticks out her tongue. “Yes, you do!”

Billy gasps, pulling away from Domingo and climbing to his feet. Max shrieks and runs, her little body darting away.

“Get back here!” Billy growls, chasing after her and throwing out a hand to catch her.

She squeals when Billy seizes her torso and tickles her mercilessly, squirming in his grip.

“Billy!” she laughs. “Please! Don’t—no—”

Her giggles rise on the ocean breeze as Billy tickles her, Tomas and Domingo looking on with fond smiles. He catches sight of Domingo’s smile, and for a moment, Billy feels like everything in the world is okay.

#Freedom from the Day #on ao3!#prequel to the timetravel!AU #withoutmonsters #the blog not the fic lol #cold_shadows #my writing #Billy Hargrove #Max Mayfield #stranger things

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