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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

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Dance of The Spheres Chapter 1: Terran Tarantella

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, implied murder

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

“I see a bad moon a-rising

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today”

Creedence Clearwater Revival

A small group of men, and one woman gathered in a small room; the kind that seemed like a storage closet from the outside, the kind that had cameras installed, but not functioning. Beyond this room, the basic hustle of running a government rushed on, but within it, all heads were turned to a handful of hand written documents scattered over the table.

“And you're absolutely sure this translation is correct?” One of them asked.

“Yes.” The woman said. “Well, as much as I can be. Old Norse is a contentious language, but this is written so much more clearly than most of our primary sources.” She gestured to the letter in question, written in gold ink on purple parchment. It was a museum quality piece of work, and it would likely never see the inside of one. Its contents were just too incriminating. Especially since the President seemed to be seriously considering it.

“Hm. Well then, we should probably chose someone shouldn't we?” He said.

“Mister President?” The translator asked. “Are you sure? I've been quite plain about what this says. What is being asked of us. It's...reprehensible. And frankly, I am surprised that King Thor would even allow it.”

“Ma'am, this is a culture that is old beyond reckoning.” Another man-one of the generals? She couldn't keep them straight-piped in. “An alien race on top of that. It's only to be expected that they would have customs that are unfamiliar, even repugnant to us. We should keep an open mind.”

It was ridiculous. She knew for a fact that many of the people in this room and beyond held virulent hatred for several cultures that existed on Earth. There was no reason they should be showing this kind of cultural sensitivity to a bunch of aliens who just showed up and started making demands. Especially that one...

“I ask you to understand that sometimes we make hard sacrifices for the good of all.” The President said. “Asgard is a galactic superpower.”

“Was.” She pointed out. “Now they're a bunch of refugees.”

The President gave her an annoyed glance. “They will no doubt regain their power shortly. Their technology is wildly advanced. And if we go along with the occasional weird little whim they have, they will be grateful. So America gains access to Asgardian tech. Imagine how many people could have their lives bettered by Asgardian friendship.”

The translator couldn't help but wonder since when this man gave a shit about bettering the lives of others. It was disgusting, that this was probably just another path to money and power for him. Even moreso that no one else in the room was questioning this, even a little bit. They were all known for eating scraps from his table anyway, and likely looking to grab some of those benefits for themselves. At what expense?

She decided to start looking for another job.

“Asgardian friendship would certainly be a boon for our country.” She said. “Do you have further need of me?” She wanted out of here badly now. She didn't want to be in the room while they made this awful choice.

“No.” The president said. He tapped one of his men on the arm. “Escort her out, would you?”

With relief, she followed the man out of the room.

She never made it to her car.

******

Loki wandered through the dark and cramped byways, to the furthest reaches of their new settlement, past the places where the rest of his people felt safe, past where even he felt safe. These outside places were no longer the haunts of petty criminals or undesirables exactly, not that he feared such unsavories. No, these rough walls were now the lair of the most notorious and hidden Asgardian of all. So mythical was she, that almost no one knew she still lived.

Gullveig the witch. If stories were to be believed, she was the first witch. If stories were to be believed, she had been killed three times, and returned each time. If stories were to be believed, that meant she was now beyond death.

If stories were to be believed, that meant he was as well.

But that was not why he was here.

In all the whispers, in all the screamed confessions, all the gibbering of those who had visited her, her power was very real. Real and terrible, for she could grant any wish, any wish at all, and sometimes that was far more than the wisher actually wanted. Word a wish poorly, and it would be granted. Fail to think through the consequences of a wish, and it would still be granted. It was why she had been killed so many times in the first place. But that was the fault of the wishers, not Gullveig herself.

And Loki had thought through this wish, and knew what it would cost him. But the gains...if he had calculated correctly, predicted correctly, the gains for Asgard could be immense. Steeling himself, he found the one area that appeared to be lit, and entered.

“You have returned again.” She said in her cracked and watery voice. Her back was to him, and she appeared to be warming her hands over a tiny fire in a glowing crucible. Fires-real fires-were strictly forbidden within the confines of Asgard right now, but it was debatable whether those embers counted as a real fire, debatable whether she lived within Asgard. On the edge of things, always as she liked it. “So you are truly committed?”

“I am.” Loki said. “I have made my decision.”

The old witch cackled in amusement. “It may be your last! After this, you will be different. You know this, yes? This person who stands in my doorway? He will no longer exist.”

“That is by design.” Loki said.

She turned to face him. She was, by far, the oldest Asgardian he had ever seen; bent, wizened, wrinkled and scraggly. She didn't look the part of a witch. She wasn't horrifying to look at, simply old, frail, wrapped in a pale shawl. She wasn't frightening at all, except that he knew her to be older than his father's father, and that she had one, single-minded focus in life that transcended any morality or ethics she might have ever had.

“Did you bring me what I want?” she asked.

“Yes.” He offered up a sizable sack, filled with every last scrap of gold that he owned. He had pried it from his armor, stripped it from his jewelry, and pricked out every last shimmering thread from his royal wardrobe. His, and only his: she would not accept any that he had taken from someone else. This had to be his sacrifice to make-the first of several.

Gold was all she ever wanted. Anyone could buy her services, if only they offered gold. Sometimes she didn't care where they got it, but as a ruler, he was a special case. No one knew what she did with it. Surely, she had collected enough over the millennia to build a palace out of it, but it was never anywhere to be seen.

She smiled at the sight of it, seemed to stand straighter, move more spryly.

“Now, for yours.” She plunged her claw-like fingers into the crucible, stirring the embers and ashes with rapidly blackening talons. She plucked forth a glowing ring, strewn with runes, and shook it, blowing ashes from the darkening metal. Using her tattered apron, she polished the ring until it shone even in the weak light of her tiny hovel.

It was not gold, which she would never have parted with, but platinum, a metal that just happened to be fairly abundant in their new settlement. He did not know if the powers of Midgard were aware of the riches to be found in the place they had allotted to Asgard, but he would certainly see that Asgard got to claim them.

The glow and runes had thoroughly faded from the ring before she set it on his palm, with the instruction 'not to put it on until you mean it'. But he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He had taken the opportunity while Thor slept the long and powerful sleep of an Asgardian ruler, to send a message to the country of most of his brother's friends. The country he had tried to conquer. It was a message that promised things, as in days of old. A promise of power, of friendship, of mutual benefit, in exchange for a life. The simplest and most common of agreements.

Perhaps that might make up for his earlier...indiscretion.

He vanished the ring to his magical hiding place, and exited Gullveig's home. While Thor slept, Loki ruled, and it wouldn't do for him to be missed. Winding along through long, rough corridors, until he returned to the well-lit and finished walls of Asgard's new buildings, he found Heimdall and his advisors waiting. Perfect. He needed to tell them to expect a visitor soon.

******

“There. I think that's everybody within the parameters.” One worker said, pushing back from his computer.

“Let me check.” His partner leaned over the keyboard. “Lessee...age range, yeah...unmarried, yeah...less than twelve thousand a year, yeah...anti-Party sentiments on social media...arrest record, yeah...'other undesirable'? That's pretty cold.”

“This whole thing is cold.” He agreed. “But the projected benefits are worth it. Whoever's chosen will be contributing more than their current life is worth.”

“Cold as ice. Well, let's do this.” His partner hit the sort command, the program sifting through millions of names before settling on one at random.

“Well, there's our unlucky lady.” He said, pulling up all the personal information the computer had. “Sorry about this, miss, but maybe you should've made better life choices. Either way, your sacrifice will usher in a new age of prosperity for us.”

“Well, when do we get her?”

“We've got people in her town. We'll just send them a message tomorrow. Well, sleep tight, miss. There's no telling what that freak is going to do to you.”

“Fucking frigid, man.”

******

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed. Another day, another dollar. Never quite enough dollars for the amount of days you spent though.

You found your cane and hobbled to the shower, wasting precious morning moments under the warm spray. You probably wouldn't get a chance to bathe this evening. You would be going to a protest-you had finished your sign last night, and it should be dry by now.

You didn't bother to turn on the lights; the sun was peeking through your window, and it wasn't like your studio apartment had much clutter to trip over anyway.

Getting your leg attached, and grabbing a slice of buttered bread, you just barely caught the bus to work.

It was simple data entry, but it-barely-paid the bills. And it didn't require you to stand for hours, or be constantly walking back and forth, or talking directly to customers, so you were thankful to have it.

You'd still be voting for better conditions though, and surreptitiously trying to unionize. You, and everyone there were still being exploited, and it wouldn't do to just accept that, simply because it could be worse.

Now if only Betty had called in...Nope, she hadn't. It was practically every day lately, that you prayed for your ultra-conservative coworker to just stay home, but she never did. She bragged to you-or within earshot of you-very often about her perfect attendance. You could never prove that she was doing it as a jab to your occasional medical related absences, but you wouldn't put it past her.

She noticed you slipping your sign under your desk.

“That's inappropriate.” She said with unconcealed disgust. Ugh, the twit would hate protesters. She somehow thought she was closer to those power-hungry hangers-on that the regime seemed to draw out of the woodwork. She had much more in common with the people crawling in the streets than she ever would with the so-called 'president' and his cronies, and she would actually benefit from the changes you were all marching for, but her pointy, oyster-white nose was so far in the air that she would never see it.

“It's none of your business.” You grumbled, slipping into your chair, and setting your cane aside. You wouldn't be getting up from there for the next few hours.

“It is my business to know whether I share a cubicle wall with a violent thug!” She trilled sanctimoniously.

“Okay, first of all, that kind of accusation is inappropriate, and prohibited by company policy. Second of all, what am I gonna do? Limp at you?”

“If you decide to get aggressive with me, I can't escape. I have to run down the stairs, but you can beat me to any floor, just by using the elevator!”

“This again? Give it a rest!” You were this close to reporting her. Again. Maybe if you did it enough times, somebody would actually do something about it.

Betty held a genuine grudge over the fact that you were the only employee on this floor who got to use the janky old service elevator. Everybody else had to use the stairs. Never mind that it was literally the only way for you to even get to your desk. No, if there was something that some people were allowed to do, but Betty wasn't, it was clearly incontestable proof of oppression against Betty herself. Also, if the 'wrong sort' of people were allowed to do the same things Betty was, well that was also anti-Betty oppression. She just wanted so badly to be able to claim oppression, that she didn't realize that she actually was being oppressed by the people she wanted just as desperately to emulate.

She was exhausting.

“Good morning you two! Hey Betty, you got those numbers for me yet?” Saved by the boss. Well, not really. He didn't like you, but he didn't like Betty either. He didn't hate either of you. He was just the boss-make believe friendly, but distant, concerned with other things. However, he disliked when employees wasted time, and Betty did. A lot. That's what happened when someone was an incorrigible gossip.

Betty slunk back to her desk, cowed for at least a few minutes. He handed you a bit more work to do, then meandered down the aisle, greeting other employees, and handing out more work on his way to his own tiny office. He wasn't all that important either, in the scheme of things. It was really amazing how many people kept their gaze so fixed on the people in power that they couldn't see them pouring quicksand around their feet.

But you would lend your voice to the march on their behalf anyway. They deserved better too. Maybe they'd see it someday, instead of continuing to fight against their own interests.

For now, though, you would concentrate on your work.

The morning came and went, your little lunch alarm signaling its death. You grabbed your cane and walked slowly and carefully to the break room. You kept a week's worth of small lunches in baggies in the fridge here. Salami, little cheese slices, crackers, cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, and grapes. Not much, but tasty and filling, and you got all the food groups. There was an unspoken rule about not messing with other people's food that, thankfully, nobody in the office had ever broken; at least not while you'd been here.

You could see into the tidy lines of cubicles from the break room, and while you crunched away at your carrots, you noticed something worrying. There were two men in matching suits and shades talking to Betty. She spoke to them animatedly, gesturing at your cubicle. One of the men peeked inside.

Oh, you didn't like that at all.

You didn't actually have anything to hide, but you knew damn well that didn't matter. If these were cops-or worse-they would find whatever it was they wanted to find, one way or another.

By the time you got back from your lunch break, the men had disappeared, but Betty still had a distressingly smug grin on her face. You checked every drawer and every cranny of your desk: nothing had been taken, and nothing had been left behind. You went back to work, trying to ignore the anxiousness that was creeping up your back.

You had just finished and sent your last spreadsheet when your boss opened his door and called you to his office. You slowly made your way there, trying not to pay attention to the malice sparkling in Betty's face, or how your other coworkers glanced at you with pity or distrust.

The suspicious pair of men were hiding out in your boss' office, and you'd never seen him looking more uncomfortable.

One of the men positioned himself closer to the door behind you, not that you could run anyway.

“Um...Do you know why I called you in here?” Your boss asked.

“I assume it has something to do with your new friends.” You said sourly. This was going bad, you could see it a mile off. You honestly didn't know why they were here, or what they wanted. “Seriously though, no I don't. Why have you called me in here?”

You'd make him say it at least.

“Er, well, unfortunately your employment with us has been, well, terminated. So, if you would just gather up your things-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You interrupted. “On what grounds? Because these guys said so?”

'These guys' said nothing.

“No, no, it's, uh...your arrest record...”

“That's ridiculous! Why didn't you fire me two months ago then, when it happened? Because you know it was pure bullcrap, that's why! You saw the footage; I never threw anything at that cop! He tripped over some garbage that was already there, then turned around, knocked me down, and hit me with my own cane. They let me out the same day because they knew they had nothing. Cane's still bent.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but you're fired. I'm sorry. Now go on, get out of here.”

And take them with you seemed to be the unspoken plea. You stormed out of the office with as much dignity as you could, spoke to no one, shoved the meager contents of your desk into your purse, gabbed your sign, and got into the old service elevator for the last time.

You would be reporting this, to anybody who would listen. It was completely unacceptable. And now you would have to go through the ordeal of applying either for unemployment, or disability. You hoped your savings would last long enough for your appeals to go through.

You spotted their reflections in a display window on the way to the bus stop. The two men from the office were following you now. Were they feds? Had Betty and your spineless boss sold you out to the feds? You hadn't even done anything!

You almost expected it when they dragged you into an alley, a pungent-smelling cloth held tight over your face, muffling your voice. It made you cough, but that also made you inhale, and in moments, soft blackness wrapped around you.

#danceofthespheres #loki x reader #disabled reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#Heimdall (Marvel)

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wolfcha1k · 3 years

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Flood and Flame /// Guy x Eep Fanfic

"You're the fire and the flood

And I'll always feel you in my blood

Everything is fine

When your hand is resting next to mine

Next to mine

You're the fire and the flood"

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

She shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, getting comfortable. "No, not really," Eep told him, seeing he didn't look convinced despite all she could really see was the curve of his jawline. "What about you? I have a feeling that it's not just itchy feet bothering you tonight."

Guy and Eep take some time to sort out their feelings, surviving The End of the World itself can take its toll. There's also matters of the heart... /// Guy x Eep /// Post!Croods but before A New Age ///

You can also read it on Ao3 or FF.net here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494047

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13821005/1/Flood-and-Flame

- <3 -

Author's Note: I'm always fascinated by the development of Guy and Eep's relationship that we don't see leading into "A New Age", since they start off rather new to each other. I also like to explore just how the family processed surviving The End since I'd imagine that was a very traumatizing experience. Especially for Eep who had nearly lost both her father and Guy during all that, two people she cares deeply for. So this is a little "what if" into that scenario.

This is also just a little distraction from "A Tomorrow of Our Own" as I sort through my writer's block. I had wanted to post this before Valentine's Day hit but what can you do, can't rush quality. The picture here was drawn by me and I hope you like the story and artwork. Some warning, kinda steamyish near the end, skip right to it or over it, your choice. If it makes anyone feel anything, then I did my job despite my virgin awkward boyfriendless ass feeling differently, haha. Ngl, took me several days just to write the kiss because I got so much second hand embarrassment yall gotta read that.

Eep couldn't sleep but then again, how could you catch a wink after surviving The End of the World itself? Her blood was still pounding in between her ears and it thrummed through her veins. The energy hummed under her skin, desperate to burst alongside the burning that sent her nerves ablaze. It was barely a few short hours ago they'd outlasted certain death. For those short moments, all had seemed lost.

In-between the restless twisting and turning amongst the sleep pile, Eep gave up trying to sleep. The dark around her didn't help matters much, even if Eep prided herself in her courage. She hunted for light all her life, eyes drifting towards the remains of the embers that still glowed upon the ground. It gave little comfort.

Her father's words echoed in her memory, the whole ordeal still fresh as a wound. Never be afraid.

Perhaps it was easier said than done, green gaze finding the hulking mass of fur and muscle that was Grug. She almost lost her father without never telling him she loved him. It haunted her when she waited on the other side of that chasm, bordering The End and waiting for a response she knew was never coming. The anxiety came like an unwelcome stranger, knocking persistently at her skull. Giving a soft frustrated groan, she sat up and crossed her arms.

She looked up at the moon and the night sky that held all the Tomorrows, the sleeping suns shining like beacons of hope. Eep tried laying down again, cuddling close to a nearby snoring mass she assumed was her little brother Thunk. There was Chunky's loud rumbling purr, Gran's thunderous snoring and Ugga's gentle murmuring to seek comfort from. She counted each breath, in and out and shut her eyes… How did the tiger fly? Her voice echoed, reminding her of caves and the canyon that once defined her existence.

And then he stumbled into her life, well, more like she pushed her way into his with persistence rivaling the most stubborn of beasts. He held the sun in his hands and showed her there was more than darkness. She jumped on the sun and rode it to Tomorrow.

Her nerves, taut as a bowstring, nagged for release. Like the tiger in Guy's tale, she was ready to fly.

I gotta move around, she thought. Eep gave one last look at her slumbering family silhouetted in the darkness. Instinct was something she knew innately, it kept her alive.

She wiggled free of the tangled bodies around her, rolling onto her hands and knees. Eep quickly felt the crisp night time chill turn her skin to goose flesh. She shivered, partially regretting the choice to leave the warm safety of the family sleep pile. Her body was too tense for sleep though, reminding Eep of the static feeling the air got before lightning struck.

She shrugged the feeling off and like a cat on the prowl began to creep away from the slumbering clan. Eep made distance and in-between trotting along her knuckles, she sprang up onto the balls of her feet gracefully. Muscles rippling under her tanned skin, she just let loose. The lush green jungle and its many colorful flowers rushed past her in a blur of color. Breaking into a run once Eep knew she was far enough away not to make noise, she relished in the freedom the night brought her. Eep breathed in the air deeply, feeling it expand her lungs and suddenly the cold of it felt good in comparison.

Her feet carried her towards the edge of the jungle, white sand expanding far as the eye could see. The ocean was shining bright, so blue she wondered if it was even real. The moonlight reflecting on the ocean called to her in a whisper yet was loud enough to deafen her ears. Eep wondered perhaps if she dipped her hands into the water she would scoop up a shard of the moon. Eep paused at the edge of the treeline. A familiar scent blew in on the breeze upwind, Eep flaring her nostrils.

Guy, she would recognize his scent anywhere. He smelled of wind and freedom, like innovation and firewood. He was also tinged in ash from The End and the burning scent of the tar he'd been stuck in with her father. It was thick and pungent, making her tense. Again it reminded her how close she had nearly lost everything. Eep without another thought was quick to seek him out, a part of her worried about him being alone out here.

It was silly to worry, there was no danger here now. Besides, Guy had survived alone long before he ever met her and her family. However she couldn't shake it, especially when today she saw him lose hope in that moment. Guy was a dreamer and always knew how to escape the worst of dire situations. Full of ideas that seemed endless, he'd had no solution to when the earth broke into pieces around them. It had broken her heart seeing him like that, all her faith was on him and she'd never thought he could lose that spark.

It didn't make her regret the journey though, she would have always followed him to The Ends of the earth. Despite how short she'd known him, it felt like forever somehow. Were soulmates real? She hoped so.

Come with me.

She found him quickly thanks to her keen sense of smell. Seated on a tall rock on the shore, his back was to her. His knees were curled up to his chest, long arms wrapped around him. Eep crept towards him and he perked at the sound. He turned his head, squinting to see passed the dark. He relaxed when he realized it was not danger, a sigh rattling his thin, lanky frame. His smile could radiate light as he gave her one. It made her insides melt.

"Hey," he greeted, already scooting over to give her a spot on his lonely little ledge.

She didn't hesitate to plop herself next to him, quickly cozying herself into his side. "Hey you," she chirped back.

Guy didn't seem to mind the affection, if anything he was just as eager to meet her half way. He leaned his head comfortably against her temple, breathing in her scent.

"What are you doing up?" Eep asked him after several moments, needing the time to enjoy having him to herself for once. It was one of the first real time being alone together since getting stuck in the canyon.

"Just wanted to explore a bit, I couldn't sleep," he told her, turning his face to nuzzle her cheek. If Eep were a cat, she would have purred at the affection. "What about you?"

"I'm too wound up I think," she said. "I can't sit still for long anyway."

He chuckled fondly, pulling away to look at her. Eep practically whined at the loss of contact, looking into his eyes. "You do have a severe case of wanderlust, I must be contagious."

"Hey, so long as it's not the common cold I'm good."

"I'd never want to make you sick," Guy promised her. "I'm healthy as a horse fly, I swear."

Lovesick seemed to be a fitting description though, Eep batting her eyelashes as she swooned at his affection. He grinned at her.

"How did you find me?" He asked her suddenly, returning to nuzzle the soft skin of her cheek and jaw.

"I sniffed you out," she exclaimed, sounding proud of herself.

"Do I really smell that weird to you?" Guy teased her, gently lifting a finger to boop her on the nose. She went cross eyed, amused.

"A bit, I've gotten used to it though," she teased right back.

He gave her a lopsided boyish smile at that, chuckling low in his throat. Guy made himself more comfortable on his perch on the ledging. Eep watched Guy turn away from her to look towards the sky, his brows furrowed. Something seemed to be on his mind, Eep's curiosity pricked under her skin and she shuffled her weight. Feeling her shift, Guy turned back to her, questioning.

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

He sighed, merely cuddling her warm body as he put an arm behind her back. "Bad dream," he confessed at last, looking up at the slumbering suns above them again. Guy's face was solemnly drawn, forlorn as seemed to search the heavens for answers. "Today was a lot."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, mind blanking as she thought back to what had happened just barely a day ago now.

Eep looked at her arm where a fresh wound was, the blood long since dried. She'd gotten it after Grug threw her across the chasm, her bicep had grazed a sharp rock when she landed. Eep had a feeling it would scar, it wasn't like she was scared or ashamed of those though.

This one though felt different, sure, she had survived but it'd been a horrifying day. It was something that would take time to forget and feel pride in.

Guy followed her eyes and gently nudged her, drawing her from her thoughts. "What about you?" He echoed the question. "I know it's not only me who's reflecting."

"What is there really to say?" She shut her eyes, returning to the darkness that had suffocated them in dirt and ash. "I nearly lost my dad." We all almost died.

They fell into a tense silence as both Eep and Guy continued to digest all that they'd experienced today. Guy idly peeled at a piece of dried tar he couldn't wash off successfully with his finger nail. She lifted her head a little and Eep watched him, green eyes flickering between his face and the splotch of black tar.

"I know the feeling," he murmured at last and he hesitated a long moment, steeling himself as he lowered his head. "I… um… I lost my parents when I was a little boy."

Eep drew away to properly look at his face, seeing the old hurt there. He wouldn't look at her, trapped somewhere in his mind she was unable to follow. She reached out to cup his cheek to turn his head towards her, rubbing her thumb tenderly against his face.

He leaned into her touch, lifting his hand to cover hers. He pulled it away slightly in order to press his nose into her calloused palm, a gesture of deep fondness amongst cave people. Did he know that? Eep wondered. It made her ears burn despite the weight of what they were talking about.

"Guy… I'm sorry," she said finally, it was the only thing she could really say. It had been an obvious conclusion for why he was alone, so young yet wise beyond his years. His experience spoke volumes of the world he had to face.

She once couldn't imagine living without her father, no matter how much Grug frustrated and smothered her. After today she knew though at last and it was the worst feeling in the entire universe, no kind of wound she'd ever gotten could come close to comparing to it.

"The tar pit with your dad really picked at an old wound for me," he went on, voice beginning to warble a little. "They had drowned in that stuff. I guess… I guess I wasn't as over it as I thought I was. I can't forget that awful smell, it suffocates you."

Eep didn't think it was a thing you could get over, part of her didn't want to meet the person who had forgotten it that easily. She wasn't sure what to say so instead she wrapped an arm around his waist, hoping her presence would be enough comfort.

"I'm not alone anymore though," Guy continued despite how sad his voice sounded. "I got you and your family now."

"And Belt," she added helpfully and it made him smile a little bit as waned as it was.

"And Belt," he agreed. "I think my family would have wanted me to go on this crazy road trip with you."

"Log ride and all?"

"Maybe sans the log ride," Guy admitted, twisting his face up in a pout. Eep pulled him closer so she could hug him better.

They fell into a companionable silence for a time, listening to the wind as it blew over the beach. Her thoughts wandered again to places she didn't want it to go, that buzzing unused energy beneath her skin returning with a vengeance.

Eep knew thinking about things wasn't going to be helpful for either of them, her gaze jumping between Guy and the ocean. The tide rumbled softly as it eased in and out along the coastline. She tugged on his elbow, gesturing with her head in the direction of the ocean.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Eep asked, knowing the shift in topic would be welcome. They would drown their fears in the water. She idly flexed her muscles in preparation of the activity to come.

His expression lightened despite his eyes still looking sad. It was progress at least. "Yeah, sure," he relented with a small smile.

Eep beamed at him in girlish glee, separating herself from his side to spring to her feet. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" She shot off, leaping off the ledge onto the sand gracefully.

Guy scrambled to rush after her and nearly fell face first off the rock, calling out accusingly, "Hey! That's cheating, Eep!"

"No, you're just a sore loser!" She called back, turning around as she ran backwards a moment. She saw him running as fast as he could, long legs extending forward and back. Eep made it to the shore line and leaped into it in a cannonball, climbing a nearby series of rocks as a kind of diving board.

There was a dark shape distorted on the surface of the water before suddenly it crashed down after her. Eep moved to avoid being crushed and saw it was Guy. He grinned at her, paddling about skillfully. Eep was still learning this whole swimming thing, he was like a swan to water compared to her. They were deep enough that they could see the bottom yet not far enough for it to be a problem returning back above the sea. She swam after him when he went further down, showing her some coral and undersea plants that were eye candy. Some fish swam passed them, their scales rainbowy and glistening in the lowlight.

Her lungs began to burn for air and she could see Guy was beginning to feel the effects too, for he started upwards with a strike of his feet to the sea floor. Eep could see the mottled light shining above her on the water, casting the belly of the sea in an ethereal sort of glow. She kicked her feet down, paddling her way up to the surface with a gasp. She moved a clump of wet hair out of her eyes, grinning when she saw Guy resurfacing next.

She splashed him merrily, Guy lifting his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself. He swatted water back at her afterwards childishly, Eep giggling as she began to crocopup paddle away from him. Guy followed her, easily cutting her off to dunk her when he grabbed her around the shoulders. Eep sputtered as she resurfaced, seeing the wide mischievous grin on his face.

"Two can play at that game!" Eep declared, sucking in a breath dramatically before diving back down.

She could see Guy's body twist and turn as he attempted to peer down to see what she was doing. Eep swam under him and hefted him onto her shoulders, she heard his surprised gasp as he clutched around her neck for support. She promptly tossed him head over feet before scrambling to the nearby rocks again before he could get her back.

His head popped up above the sealine, Guy wiping his face away the water and spitting salt from his mouth. He looked around for her before his dark eyes found her standing proudly on the rocks.

"What are you doing now?" Guy asked her, swimming near her suspiciously.

"I'm the queen of the rocks!" Eep called out, puffing her chest out. "And you're the dirty dung beetle," she added, her teeth shining from her wide playful smile.

"I'll show you who's the dirty dung beetle," he said, beginning to climb the rocks after her.

Eep pounced to a higher one as he got closer, her balance better than his as she lowered onto all fours. "You gotta try harder than that to dethrone me, Guy."

Guy scrambled on the wet slippery stones but found his balance before he could plummet back into the ocean. He got to her perch and the two of them began to wrestle for the spot, Eep getting him into a headlock as his arms went around her torso.

He attempted to shove her with all his might, looking rather pathetic as he went red in the face from exertion. "You're like a rock!"

"Complimenting me won't get you anywhere!" She shifted her weight, ready to throw him.

He saw an opening and Guy swept his leg against hers, forcing her to stumble as her foot slid from underneath her. Suddenly, Eep lost her footing and yelping out loud began to fall. She didn't release him, if she was going down he was going down with her. Guy gave a similar shout and the two crashed in a heap into the water.

He let go of her and Eep loosened her grip from around his neck as the two swam back to the surface, gasping for air. Eep pulled him up with her, arms loosely draped on his shoulders and back. Guy had a sopping mop of hair drooping over his forehead and eyes, his smile wide. "I win."

"That was hardly a fair victory," Eep accused him without any real bite, lightly kicking his leg. "You fought dirty!"

"You're just a sore loser," he teased her, echoing what she'd called him earlier.

She just huffed, floating there with him. She looked at his face, amused. He looked so funny with his hair covering most of his face, it reminded her of the shaggy mop sabrebunnies had. She was suddenly hyper aware of how close together they were, his face nearly touching hers as his breath came out huffing. She could feel it fan her lips and a chill that wasn't just the cold this time made her shiver. His torso pressed against hers, their knees touching and chests close together.

It reminded her of when they'd set the trap together back in the tundra with the weird rocks. They had gotten tangled together like this before, faces touching and limbs ensnared tightly. This time there was no turkeyfish or Grug to break the tension.

She swallowed, her throat felt tight. Guy brushed aside the hair from his eyes, his laughter stilled and the smile on his face fell away slowly. His eyes fell to her lips for a moment. He suddenly realized their position but he made no move to pull away.

"Eep?"

She felt like she had butterflies inside her stomach yet somehow it didn't seem to matter at all right now. Eep only wanted to hear him say her name again like that, softly and wrapped with warmth. Only he could make her name sound like one of the most beautiful things in the world.

"Yeah, Guy?" It took her a moment for her brain to catch up to reply, she wondered if she sounded as breathless as she felt.

He was quiet, a seriousness she wasn't quite used to seeing when she thought of Guy. He was usually so goofy and strange, in a good way, of course. It was easier on her nerves though when he was stammering and a little nervous of her. Now she was the one feeling a little frightened but she also couldn't care less about that right now. It was a fear that reminded her of when she tried something new, nervous energy that fell away into satisfaction when it proved her fears wrong.

"I think I love you," he confessed after hesitating, needing to collect his thoughts. His words were soft and gentle, the fondness there even without him directly telling her. They came out of nowhere practically, yet it just felt right. Guy gauged her expression which must have been surprised because he reached for her hand as it trembled. "Are you okay?"

"It's just the cold," she mumbled with a sheepish look, attempting to ignore the gooseflesh erupting across her skin. Eep smiled.

He seemed as nervous as she was, resting her palm on his chest and covering her hand entirely. His heart was thundering under her fingers and he shivered. She felt it through her hand and arm, Eep blinked at him with concern. "Just the cold," Guy murmured back with a small grin.

"My heart feels like that too," she chuckled, shutting her eyes tight as she sucked in a deep breath. "Is that normal?"

"Yeah, it is," Guy assured her, squeezing her hand with a gentleness she wasn't accustomed to. Used to rough handling, it was something she was still adjusting to. "Least I think so. I've never… felt like this before."

"Okay," Eep murmured. "Hey, um, can I…?"

"Can you…?" He encouraged her softly.

She decided it was easier to just do it than elaborate what she wanted because something about it felt too intense to put into her voice. She forgot what words were but that was okay, they seemed unneeded. Not thinking was becoming easier, Eep closed the distance between them, not that there was much left to begin with anyway. She pressed her forehead against his, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction. He was so warm, his breath stuttering against her lips at the contact.

He was tense under her touch for a moment before relaxing, brushing his nose against hers as he tilted his head at a more comfortable angle. His touch thrilled her, a feeling she'd never experienced before until meeting him. Nobody had ever touched her like this, vulnerable and intimate. It was a long drawn out moment, Eep hearing the soft exhale of his breath.

"You need to breathe, Eep," Guy reminded her in a low voice.

"Oh," she managed to say, sounding rather pathetic as she let it out.

Guy nuzzled his nose against hers, brow against brow. "I like this."

Eep found what she wanted to say again, pressing her palm against his heart. His fingers tightened around hers. His pulse raced under her, pounding like thunder in a storm. It fueled her resolve and gave her relief that her feelings weren't something fleeting. It wasn't just because Guy was new that he fascinated her endlessly, her feelings ran deeper than that. "I... I think I love you too, Guy."

There was a hitch in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They breathed together for what felt like forever, his breath fanning her face. Guy moved, she felt it in the water around them. Eyes still closed, they widened when she felt the gentle press of something against her lips. His fingers brushed along her jawline tenderly, tilting her head further. A rush of heat made her skin feel more alive than it ever had before, touched by sunlight and fire all at once. It burned her blood and pounded in between her ears. His mouth moved against hers, each movement making her heart skip a beat. He pulled the slightest bit away, lips hovering above hers. His chest heaved a bit as he caught his second wind, Eep realized she was just as bad. It felt like the rush she got from hunting or when he taught her something new, invigorating and alive. Guy seemed to be waiting for something, what that something was, Eep wasn't sure.

A shiver ran down her spine despite how warm her entire body felt, Eep gathered her resolve. She leaned back towards him, hesitating for a heartbeat before tentatively closing the distance between them. He pulled her closer, which was somewhat difficult due to being in the water. He let go of her hand to tangle his fingers in her hair, Eep stroking the indentation between his pectorals. He trembled like a leaf under her touch as it roved over his skin, her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, kneading the sinewy muscle there. His hand gently stroked the slope of her neck and down her muscular back, tracing scars in a awed sort of way, like she was precious.

She felt the soft flicker of his tongue against her lower lip and she couldn't help but startle, pulling back the slightest breath away. He didn't chase after her lips, just shut his eyes and breathed out a long, drown out exhale like he was pained. Her face leaned closer to his again and shyly she copied him, gliding her tongue along his lip to show her what he wanted.

And show her he did, tentative and gentle as always when he sensed her hesitation. He would never push her, though once Eep found her courage, she turned the tides on him with her typical ferocity. Guy gave a sound that was nearly a growl, thrilling her. She'd never been wanted before, her palm cradling his cheek. Her other arm went to wrap around his neck as his hand fell to squeeze her waist. He gripped the furs at her hips, pulling her closer yet still feeling too far away. She wanted him closer, like prey being hunted she felt cornered but it was exciting. Emotions she never knew before raged within her, Eep couldn't help but whimper against his lips as they spiraled down.

He paused, pulling away at the sound to take in her flushed face. His chest heaved, Eep feeling it more so than hearing it now. "Are you okay? I'm um… sorry." Guy was suddenly sheepish.

"I think I forgot how to breathe," she said between breaths, exhilarated.

He swallowed thickly, gathering his wits as he gently pushed her away. "Me too." The words seemed to remind him what was at stake here, that there was more than the burning in their blood.

The distance helped her heart time to finally stop its frantic beating. It found itself a much more manageable rhythm, one that thankfully didn't make her feel like she was dying. She caught her breath, lifting her hand out of the water to see it was pruned. "Wow," she mumbled, surprised.

"We've been in the water too long," he said, looking at his own fingers. "I think I'm actually cold now." Guy shivered, teeth chattering for a second.

Eep giggled with a sheepish grin. "Me too."

Guy began making his way towards the shoreline, padding through the water. Eep followed him as she crocopup paddled. Once they reached the soft white sand, the couple flopped together on their backs. Eep wiggled into his side, curling up into a ball. With the warmth of the sun gone, there wasn't much of a way to chase off the chill.

He wrapped an arm around her, rolling onto his side to get closer. "We can't stay here, you know," he mumbled into her hairline.

"Too cold, don't care," she rebutted. "Make me warm."

Guy chuckled, pulling his hands away despite her whining protest. He blew hot air into his palms and rubbed her chilled skin vigorously. They stayed like that for a moment, trading body heat until the cool night air on their skin felt tolerable. Eep pushed herself to her elbows after pulling away, gazing at the sky. Guy followed her eyes towards the sleeping suns.

"I'll never get tired of seeing this," Eep said aloud, turning to face Guy. He finally sat up, draping his arms over his knees as he crossed his legs.

"Me either," he said, relishing the beautiful sight. "I've followed each sun for so long," Guy continued, closing his eyes with a peaceful look on his face. He turned to face her, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. The fondness in his dark eyes made her feel shy, something she hadn't known she could be. "They lead me to you."

"I should thank them," Eep decided, getting to her feet. She stretched her arms above her head, hands attempting to reach for the moonlight. "Thank you, Tomorrow!" She called out, smirking at Guy who laughed.

He found his legs, standing up next to her. "Yeah!" He shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth so the sound carried. "Thank you!"

She giggled, giddy as she pressed into his side. He rested his head against hers, grabbing her hand to affectionately smooth his thumb over her knuckles. Guy raised her hand to his lips after, placing a featherlight kiss on each finger. "Your dad would so kill me right now," he mumbled against her skin.

"I won't let him," she quipped, practically glowing in her warmth. "Though, he might hunt you down if we don't go back to bed."

"Yeah," he sighed, sounding reluctant as he let her hand go. Eep instantly missed the warm of his calloused palm and fingers around it. "We probably should."

"We can still take advantage of the sleep pile though," she said with a slow grin, hands behind her back coyly.

He copied her expression, keen on the sneaky plan. "Not like Grug can really lecture us, everyone moves like an earthquake in there."

She toed the ground, shaking her head with a snort. "Yeah." Eep nudged his shoulder and looped her arm through his. "C'mon, it's late and I think I'm worn out enough to sleep now."

Guy nodded his agreement, seeming to suppress a yawn suddenly as he muffled his mouth. "Yeah, I'm all adventured out." He gave her a sly little look, Eep innocently blinking up at him as if not knowing what he was insinuating. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Anytime," she quipped.

They began to make their way away from the beach and into the jungle, hearing the snores of the slumbering family through the thick foliage. Eep tugged Guy down besides her to practically curl around him. Guy wrapped an arm around her waist, shimmying into a more comfortable position before sighing. Eep closed her eyes with a low hum, listening to the soft beating of Guy's heart.

She felt something soft press against her forehead, a kiss, she realized. She idly kissed the spot where his heart was in response, lovingly without a word but he knew its meaning. His breath hitched a little and he tugged her closer.

She was asleep faster than she thought possible, content and cozy…

Of course the awakening was less so when morning came, a disgruntled and shrill sound reached her ears. Yup, everything seemed back to normal, its natural balance. Guy could do nothing more besides retreat away as the familiar broad form of Grug seemed ready to skewer him with a nearby branch he grabbed. Of course he had assumed the worst, having awoken to see Guy's body draped over Eep's, pinning her beneath his weight

"Belt!" Guy shouted as he pelted off into the forest, ducking and weaving.

But the sloth only raised his long arms in a sweeping dramatic gesture. "Dun, dun, dun!"

"Ah, young love," Gran crooned, resting her fist on her chin as Eep got up to go save her boyhog. "I doubt he will kill him, we still need his fire."

Fire indeed, Eep thought with a burning blush.

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idjitlili · 4 years

Text

Legolas x reader

I am so tired I stayed up till 5 am last night reading so sorry if this shit. It is shit, Idont know what happened

Imagine somehow being teleported into Tolkien’s ,the hobbit, and you end up meeting legolas and Thranduil. In which you insult thranduil, Thorin is sorta your daddy.

You have been travelling with the company since the trolls tried to eat everyone. You had quite literally came out of a floating , flame coloured line. Only to walk into the tree. A troll had picked you up and attempted to eat you as-well , but you really didn’t care, as you was focusing how your head hurt from the tree.

After explaining your situation to Gandalf , which he ended up believing that you weren’t from here, due to your clothing, and strange sayings. Plus the evidence that all the dwarves and a Hobbit had seen you magically appear.

Thorin didn’t like having a teenage girl , with barely any self defence skills , to come with on their adventure, mission, thing. Yet he felt like he had to protect you from harm, surprisingly since you saw how he treated Bilbo. Uh basically he’s your dad.

The first night with the company , they had all offered you blankets , food (lucky Bombur makes a lot.) , the princes had given you some of their extra tunics. Which they had a lot because dwarves likes to wear layers. Too bad they weren’t green.

Dori acted like a mother to you , he would make sure you ate , and even got Ori to make you knitted goods. The dwarves thought you you would freeze to death , as dwarves didn’t get as cold as humans. Something to do with their build or something, you recall Balin telling you.

You became quick friends with Bilbo, he was interested in where you were from, and what it was like there.

Kili and fili teased you for your weird obsession with potatoes, as you mostly ate them, and you even had gone far enough to make a potato ring. (I actually did)

Now you and the company are In Mirkwood forest , unaware to what is going to strike, soon.

Kili and fili ,stood either side of you in a protective manner. For hours the company had been walking through Mirkwood, Thorin denying any assumptions that they were lost.

You grunt , at the blisters that are forming on your feet , that are sweating in your trainers.

“My legs hurt.” You moan , quietly dragging out hurt.

Kili scoffs at you , “your legs are longer , imagine how mine feel.”

You look at Bilbo who is lagging behind,

“Well you can’t say anything , Bilbos legs are as long as my dick.”

“OI y/n, i dont have no legs.”

“I never said that , my dick is hugeeeeee.”

“You don’t have a dick .” Bofur responds loudly , with annoyed tone.

“How would you know if she had a dick. You haven’t seen it.” Kili responds sending you a wink.

“Yeah thank you , my dick is in my head.”

“How would it fit though?” Fili inquires , with a confused facial expression.

“I meant my personality you jensen Ackles , and John travolta blend!” You reply smirking to yourself .’Boom roasted’ not that he would get the joke.

Unknown the rest of the company Bilbo had climbed up a tree to look for a way out of mirkwood. The air felt limited in the poisoned forest , you felt chills go up your back, shivering slightly.

“Thorin...” you speak slowly, as you spot a eight legged spider, approach in the distance. It was bigger than a sheep, teeth like knives, beads for eyes.

Thorin grabs you and makes sure you are behind him, before you know it , all the dwarves plus you are surrounded. You unarmed, stay close with thorin , so you don’t die.

Suddenly the spiders are everything, no escape, the spiders are travelling down by webs and pulling up the dwarves , who don’t see it coming because they are too busy fighting the ones on the ground. When they are pulled up , they are wrapped into a webbed cocoon.

Thorin grabs a hold of you and pulls you into his jacket , then you are both slung up into the air, you become dizzy from being wrapped up in the webbing. Then you and thorin are in just stuck. For what it seems like forever.

Until , you feel yourself falling down slowly from the trees, the cocoon is ripped open by thorin. You get up looking around there are several, other cocoons with dwarves crawling out of them. You look around to see there are still spiders everywhere, you look to the floor and see thorins swords , picking up quickly you pass it to him. he nods with appreciation and passes you a dagger.

I guess you have no chance but try to help , otherwise the others will die because you were too scared to take a chance.

‘You miss 100% the shots you don’t take -Wayne Gretzky-Michael Scott -y/n l/n’

Before you can even look around for a target , you are rugby tackled to the ground, by a disgusting excuse of one of Morgan freeman’s creations.(I think he’s god uh)

You pull your arm out of its grasp, with your ,sorry thorins dagger in hand , before the poison from the spider can be injected. You stab it the face , its body goes stiff around you curling. You push it off gagging at its texture, you pull yourself off the floor only to be tackled again.

This time the dagger had been knocked out of your gasp , desperately you try to reach it buts in use, the creature pushes you down hard. You pull up your leg and kick as hard as you can, it lands on the left of you. You finally able to grab the dagger going to kill the spider, but someone beats you to it , FIring an arrow through its head.

You look up to see a blonde dude, why is he wearing leggings. Weirdo, your brother accidentally put your leggings on ,once and ripped the crotch how he didn’t notice

he doesn’t own leggings. I do not know.

Snapping you out of your thoughts , you are dragged up, dagger snatched out of your hand, and you are roughly pushed towards the group.

“Don’t you touch her again , or I’ll make sure your everlasting life does t last.” Thorin snaps at the ginger elf that had man handled you. What a bitch.

“Oh is this human your girlfriend?awwe.” The blond elf snickers at Thorin, kili and fili gag at the thought of their uncle being in a relationship.

“Uh princess , yeah you with the dance pants. Treat the king of erebor with a little respect. Assbutt.” You glare at the blond, who tended at your words. Haha loser.

“There is no king under the mountain not will there ever be.” He replies , scowling at you.

“Yes , there will be , princess.” He scoffs.

———————————————————

The blonde elf that you soon discover his name is legolas ,and he is the kings sOn.

Bilbo was missing , aand the company were led to the woodland realm. You could only hope that he would find a way for us to escape.

You and Thorin were spilt from the other dwarves, we were brought to the king. He stuck a deal with Thorin who declined. This king was as dickhead , and narcissistic. Legolas is stood next to you just in case you tried anything .

“Take him alway, ill take to his girlfriend now.” The woodland king states to his guard smoothly.

You scoff.

“ I am literally 18, you perv.”

You feel his ice eyes , stare at you , judging , your whole life, your clothing.

“You are not from here are you,child?” He must of noticed your keanu reeves shirt.

“No”

“tell me why you travel with these dwarves.”

“Why, I like them.”

He scoffs “they are scum, pigs , thieves.” He growls at you , circling you.

“Oi princess , this is your daddy?” You ask legolas who refuses to meet your eye.

“ all I can say is, at least thorin actually loves me and he’s not even my real dad.” Thranduils jaw clenched so hard that he probably could bite your head off.

“We are NOT talking about my son we are talking a bout you.”

“ okay listen here you self obsessed prick, I don’t give a shit about what you want, so cut the shit and get to the point.”

“ I want you to get my the gems of starlight,Thorin won’t expect it from you, I’ll let you all go.”

You feel bad for legolas his dad is soulless, makes him do everything while , he sits on his throne , acting like Gaston.

“No, I am not doing that to my friends, If you wasnt such an asshole and helped Thorin when Azog attacked them he probably would’ve given them to you. But you didn’t. So you suck”

Thranduils faces fled with red , he was angry he whipped his head to towards you.

“Get her to her cell now, legolas.”

“Just saying who risks their own sons life on a forest that clearly can’t be saved,”

“My sons well being doesn’t concern you. Human.”

“You clearly haven’t got love with son. You need to get yourself a girl mat-“

you are interrupted by a slap in the face.

“Well that was a girly move, who slaps , go punch me instead.”

Legolas pulls you out of the rooms quickly, not allowing things to worsen, walking you towards the cells.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

He stops and looks at you,” because he will probably execute your friends.”

“Doubt it , he wants them gems , then he needs someone to kill the dragon.” You speak carefully walking down the stairs.

He hummed in response.

After you walked into your cell,you turned and smiled at him. You knew he wasn’t as mean as he portrayed himself as.

“Uh sorry for making fun of your trousers ,” you whispered so thorin didn’t hear , he would skin him.

He smiled lightly “sorry my Ada slapped you.”

“It was a bitch move not going to lie. “ you reach up to my face that still stung, You grin.

“I have no doubt you are going to escape.” He whispers.

“Yes sir. Stay safe princess,savvy?”

———————————————————

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh” you let out , as the water in the river splashed you hard in the face.

“Why is this so fun, yet we are still being hunted.” You throw up arms like you are on a ride in a theme park, until an arrow flies at yodu and almost hits you.

You turn to see legolas , you wave to him. He just keeps running after you and the dwarves , saying our butts , see he was a good dude.

Because of you distracting legolas , he couldn’t see an orc going to hit Tauriel. She got punched square in the nose , falling into legolas , whodidn’t see it coming and fell in the water.

For elves being graceful, that wasn’t ,but fortunately he landing in the water right near you. You reach in the water and some how pull him up so he’s holding onto the barrel. You lean back so it doesn’t tip his way. Still does. He’s stuck in the water with you. You offer him a smile.

“How was your fall?” You ask him.

“Into the water ? Amazing.” He replies grunting.

‘No falling from heaven”

“Oh.” He blushes

#legolas #legolas x reader #the hobbit imagine #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #the hobbit x reader #legolas imagine

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darling-i-read-it · 5 years

Text

Hands

Billy Hargrove x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none?

Author’s Note: We were robbed. ROBBED. Of Billy and his future. Enjoy girl!

Requested: @ateliefloresdaprimavera , thanks doll :) My Billy imagine is that he's been mesmerized by YN Byers since day 1( it doesn't help that she gives him no attention, always with those pesky kids ans Max is always talking about how cool she is) so he realizes that it's not enough for him to step up his game, he really becomes a better person because of her (because we were robbed of Billys redemption arc and we deserve it!

Summary: the request!

Genre: fluFF

(not my gif)

You laughed at Will who sat before you and threw a game piece at him. He gasped and tried to catch it before starting to laugh with you.

The two of you had been playing Dungeons and Dragons for the past hour and a half, not your longest time but also enough to let you be better at him. You were his older sister, Jonathans twin and spent more time with him and his friends then you did with Jonathan and his friends.

You tended to find more companions with Will who was easily your best friend then you did with people your own age. You took Mike, Lucas, Will, and Dustin everywhere they needed to go and just recently you took Max and Eleven. You fought with them against the demodogs and demogorgans, making friends with Steve. He was the only accuatiance you had your own age and you sat with him at lunches and he was your partner for projects in your senior year of school.

And then there was Billy Hargrove. Billy, Max's older brother and an absolute prick. You may not keep up with tons of people your age but the gossip that he had come and slept with half the school didn’t pass you by. Max complained to you about how he was mean and ruthless but also how their father was abusive to him. While you felt bad about it you tried your best to get Max out of that environment. It wasn’t an excuse to make his sister scared whenever she went home.

But you couldn’t help yourself by thinking he was attractive and that he had real potential to be one of the best people you knew. If he just applied himself.

Billy saw you the first day he came to Hawkins. You were sitting on a bench and reading one of your many books. He saw Carol and he saw Nancy and all of these girls who were trying so hard to date him. You however gave him no attention when he tried to flirt with you.

One day you had come to his house and he opened the door, a fresh dab of cologne on and an award winning smile. You were there however, to pick up his sister to go to the arcade. He couldn’t express the disappointment of those words as you spoke them.

“Did you see Billy yesterday?” you asked Will as you began cleaning up the things you had thrown at each other. He nodded, handing you a game piece.

“A new haircut. It was weird when we picked up Max,” he told you. Weird was one word for it. Whenever you went to pick up Max, Billy tended to open up the door. He flirted and then one day he just stopped answering. With school out you hadn’t seen him for months, assuming he had run away with one of his girlfriends one day.

Yesterday however you went over and he opened the door and you thought he was someone else. His mullet was gone (which you did mourn slightly) and his shirt was buttoned up all the way. It had surprised you and even more surprising was the fact that he asked you how you were and fidgeted when calling Max.

You didn’t bring it up when she arrived.

“He loves you,” Max said, coming down the stairs with a bowl of chips. You raised an eyebrow and laughed a little.

“Hilarious Maxine,” you commented. The thought had crossed your mind when you saw him yesterday. Not that he loved you but that he had changed for someone. Someone he did love. The rest of the group followed. You hadn’t even been told they had arrived. “Did Steve bring you?” you asked.

You hadn’t been told that they were coming over today.

“No uh I did,” Billy said, coming down the stairs. You raised an eyebrow and leaned against the stairs as Eleven passed you. He stopped halfway down the stairs. You shoved your hands in your back pockets and rocked back on your heels.

“Is that so? Well thanks, I didn’t know they were coming over,” you said with a shy smile. He looked undeniably handsome. The group behind you was whispering.

“This is my house Y/N,” Mike said. Truth be told you had wondered where the Wheeler had gone.

“Oh darn! I forgot the salsa!” Max said exaggerating the loudness of her voice.

“I can get i-” Billy began but the kids were running quickly past the both of you. Soon they were gone and the basement door closed behind them. You took a breath and smiled at Billy.

“You look really good,” you told him and you saw him blush. It was barely there but you could swear it was still there, on his cheeks.

“Thanks I uh-” He started walking down the stairs and stumbled a bit at the end, falling a tad forward. You caught him with your palms against his chest. “-hoped you’d like the hair,” he finished. You laughed and he chuckled and neither of you moved away from one another.

“I do like it. I like this whole look.” You looked him up and down, closer than you have ever been to one another. You brought your hand and touched his neck lightly. He took a sharp breath but you weren’t looking at his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Your necklace. The long one with the circle,” you muttered, finally meeting his eyes again. Strikingly blue. “Its gone.” He nodded, reaching and touching your hand on his chest.

“I tried to be better. I thought if I got rid of everything from before it might make you see me as a different person.” Billy had never been so vulnerable to someone he barely knew. You gave him a look.

“I always noticed you I just... I guess I thought you were no good for me. That's what I told myself at least,” you said with a smile. You turned your hand so that your palms were pressed together.

“I’m real good for you now I think. I’d love to be good for you. If you’d let me,” he said. You grinned at him.

“Billy Hargrove are you asking me out?” you asked with a teasing tone. You moved your hand against him but didn’t intertwine your fingers. He smiled at there was that smile. The charming one you knew so well.

“Yes Y/N. I in fact am,” he said. You nodded feigning seriousness as though you were contemplating this.

“Alright,” you said quietly. It took him no longer to kiss you and you wondered if you had kissed him earlier if you would feel like you were missing out like you were now. You concluded it wouldn’t have felt the same. It wouldn’t have felt that right.

When you pulled away you saw his eyes were still shut, as though he was living in the moment.

“I’m glad you didn’t change your smile. I’ve always loved your smile,” you told him. He couldn’t help but grin. You were going to kiss him again when the door upstairs opened.

“Are you done?!” you heard Will yell and you and Billy laughed, pressed against one another.

“You can come down we’re both clothed!” you yelled back and peeled away from Billy. The kids came trampaling down the stairwell.

“Billy do you want to play some dungeons and dragons?” you asked and he gave you a look.

“I don’t know how,” he muttered and the kids gasped.

“Well Will has been looking for more partners. I’ll teach you.” You finally intertwined your hands. He squeezed his hand and nodded.

“I can learn.”

#stranger things imagines #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove imagines

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer III: Amaterasu Blessed

When Anjou came into the lounge a few minutes later, Johann had already set up a small recuperation corner by putting together some chairs, taking sofa cushions for my back and putting the water dispenser closer to me. The old man chuckled.

“That reminds me, I haven’t approved your marriage application yet, Johann.”

“The school board has some concerns.” Johann said quietly.

“Understandable ones. But I’ve already made up my mind.” He walked over and handed him what looked like a lipstick case. “This is my private seal. Once you two get back to the college, you’ll find the application in my left upper desk drawer.”

I frowned. “You’re not planning on dying, are you principal?”

“No my dear, I’m not. But one should always be prepared, regardless. Now... that that’s out of the way, I can speak freely about your next assignment.”

He was looking at me, laughter in his eyes. “I need you to shadow Chisei Gen.” “Eh? But...”

“Do you really think he’s going to leave Japan with his siblings?”

I recalled his preparations earlier. “He’s not.” I said flatly.

“We have learned so much from your team reports in the last few days and yet we have only scratched the surface! Even if we have the ultimate weapon, we are still taking a shot in the dark. Chisei Gen is now the best source of intel we have.”

Johann and Nono had explained the Sword of Damocles to me. It wasn’t a sword at all, but a massive metal rod shot from space. The impact force and heat of the rod would be very similar to a meteor strike and would obliterate everything for miles, including a dragon.

But it would only be over its target every 90 minutes. And it would only be fired once.

“Then... why cut him loose?” I asked.

Anjou just smiled. “It is for the best that he tastes the freedom of his individual justice. He is a man without a mentor for the first time in a long time!”

“Uh.... then he might not appreciate me following him around then?”

“He is also a Lonesome George by his own admission. Forgive me for saying so Johann.” He glanced briefly at him and turned to me again. “He is without equal in the world. And you are his kind. I don’t think he would turn you away. Quite the opposite.” He looked at Johann again. “No offense.”

Johann crossed his arms. Nono couldn’t hold back her snicker.

I blushed and changed the subject. “By the way... has anyone heard from Mingfei?”

Johann shook his head. “He’s probably hiding somewhere safe. You’re not worrying about him?”

I tilted my head in thought. “No... I think he’s okay. I wonder if he’s walking here. Poor guy didn’t have a helicopter like I did.”

Anjou was unconcerned. “Oh... I’m sure he’ll turn up when he’s needed. He always does. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be herding those crazy Gear Department Cats.”

“ 辛苦你了”(Thanks... sorry.) I said as he departed.

I wanted so much to sleep. I was exhausted from everything. But just as I was drifting off, my phone vibrated next to me. I picked it up. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Carli?”

“Eh? Chisei?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I... just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to bring it up again. I meant it.” I said. Johann was watching me. I was nervous now, talking to another guy right in front of him. It was a for a mission. I knew he wouldn’t say anything or take it personal. That didn’t make it right in my eyes. “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going back to the shrine. To get Erii and Chime on the next flight out of here.”

“I imagine things are pretty booked...”

“It won’t be an issue for me. I’ll also be putting in my final instructions for Hydra.”

“So you’ve decided not to leave.”

“I can’t Carli. I was just looking at all these people leaving Tokyo. They’re probably going to die before they get out. They’re here, each car has a family. Each family is trying to stay calm, holding onto each other. After everything I’ve done, it’s not right for me to leave with my family.”

I sighed. “I’ve told you what I wanted but... if this is your justice then, that’s something I can respect.”

“Thanks.”

I smiled, recalling Anjou’s words. “Sorry... if this sounds weird... but I can I come see you at the shrine please?”

“W...why?”

“Because... I’ve been thinking about what we talked about earlier. I’m more curious now about what your justice looks like. Your future plans for Hydra.”

“Won’t Anjou have something to say about you suddenly leaving?”

“Mmm...” I glanced at Johann. “Anjou is a smart man. If he cared, he would have said something by now. It’s obvious he knows I care about your welfare a lot. I still remember the way there. It’s a unique place.”

“Then... it’s fine.” He hung up.

Johann looked at me. “Anjou was right. At this point, he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

I slid my legs over the side of the couch. Johann helped me get up.

When I arrived at the shrine, stepping out of the void, it was raining, but I had an umbrella. I still wore the traditional Miko clothing he’d given me earlier. Chisei was already in the shrine, surrounded by priests, flowers and candlelight. I left my umbrella outside the dark space and knelt quietly on the tatami.

He didn’t look at me or greet me. Instead he looked at someone near him with a traditional inkwell and parchment scroll.. “Write down what I’m saying.’

“I am Patriarch Gen Chisei, 74th generation patriarch of the Hydra. I am ashamed of the ancestors of the family. Our unforgivable errors have caused a disaster in Japan. Starting tomorrow, I will transfer all the powers of the patriarch to Sakurai Nanami, the head of the Sakurai family. She is the 75th Patriarch.”

“After me, family members should follow the instructions of their ancestors and must not pursue the dragon corpse for strength and power. Those who violate that prohibition will be executed by the family.”

“To avoid harming the innocent, the devils in the asylums should be well cared for. In every devil is our family blood. If we treat them kindly, they will be with us. If we abandon them in the wilderness, they will retaliate against us...”

He handed over all control, including contacts, access to buildings, property ownership and passwords to sensitive files. The rain had stopped and things were starting to clear up.

When he was finally done, he looked at the secretary. “Is it all written down?”

The secretary handed him the parchment which he read. He took a small knife, pricked his finger and smeared the blood on his ring. He pressed the ring to the parchment, leaving his signature on it.

He handed it back to him. “Make a copy, seal the original and give both to Nanami Sakurai.”

“Tomorrow, I will be an ordinary person. But today, please come to the battle with me.”

I felt the warmth on my back and looked over my shoulder. The sun had broken over the horizon and spilled its light into the shrine, on the priests and onto Chisei.

He looked so peaceful. Perhaps, I thought, I could believe he really was Amaterasu-no-Mikoto.

He met me at the entrance. “At such a time like this, you can smile like that.”

I stood up, still mindful of my healing wound. “I just felt really happy for you.”

“I’ll be sending Erii and Chime away now... Is... Mingfei alright?”

“Oh he’s fine.” I waved dismissively.

“I wanted to thank him in person. But... if you could....” He beckoned me to follow him.

He took me to a back chamber of the shrine complex. Erii was sitting in the corner, looking like me in Miko clothes, while Chime, dressed in priest clothing, still couldn’t seem to look his brother in the eye.

“The helicopter leaves in 5 minutes.” Chisei hugged him gently.

“Are you... going to come back?” Chime again had that weak, weak voice.

“I can’t promise you that but I’ll do my best.”

“If only I could...”

Chisei cut him off. “You can’t... and you know why. If you went out there, I’d lose you... forever.”

Chime looked profoundly stunned. “I don’t... understand. The King should have pursued me. But he didn’t. I don’t understand why...”

Erii held up a notepad that read. “Brother, what’s going on out there?”

“It’s very bad, Erii.” Chisei opened Erii’s suitcase full of clothes that Mingfei and Johann had mailed to them. “Here, put these on. I’ll teach you your new identities.”

While he was doing that, I approached Chime. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He hung his head in shame.

I waved my hand at him. “I’m like your brother. I can’t be killed so easy.” I had a sudden thought. “Chisei, after this is over, I’ll send you a bit of my blood for Chime. With the injection it will help prevent his ghost persona from returning.”

I turned back to Chime, “Your Soul Skill, you shouldn’t use it. If you do, there’s a risk you might be lost.”

He nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I do!” I gave him a victory sign. “Invite me to your first Kabuki performance! That is... whereever you’re going!”

Chime looked away from me, in a daze. “This... doesn’t feel real.”

“Want me to pinch you?” I asked playfully.

“Uh...”

“Here.”

“Don’t!” He flinched away.

I laughed.

“She has too much energy.” Chisei moved to shield him from me. “Change into the clothes I’ve left for you, also, here’s your ID, a bank card and a phone. Don’t tell anyone your original names. Only use the name on your passports.”

He leaned over and kissed Erii on the cheek. “I haven’t done much for you in these years. Not even as much as Mingfei did in this last week...”

Chisei’s voice grew hoarse and he abruptly stopped talking. He just hugged her again.

My smile faded and I looked away.

Once Chime had changed into casual clothes, Chisei led us out to where a bullet proof Benz was already waiting. He put Erii in the backseat and stroked her hair before giving Chime another hug.

I kept my distance. Chisei said something to Chime I couldn’t hear, but the younger brother burst into sobbing. “Don’t go, Chisei, please. Please come with us!”

Chisei held him close, not answering, instead, guiding him to the car. Chime dug his heels in, going into a full-blown panic. “The King is going to kill you. He will! I know he will!”

“Hey!” I shouted. “I won’t let that happen!”

Chisei sighed.

“I mean it! This whole situation is kind of my doing you know? If I don’t follow through to the end it would wrong!” I blinked away my tears. “If Chisei doesn’t come back alive then... well, neither will I. Understand?”

Chime looked at me like I was his only hope and I really felt like I was. It was only then that he got into the car.

The vehicle drove away and I watched it. Chisei glanced over at me and I just looked back at him. “There was no way he was going to get on that plane without something, Chisei.”

“Did Anjou send you?”

“You...” I laughed. “Called me.”

#Chisei Gen #Chime Gen #Erii Uesugi #Dragon raja #FanFiction #Writing

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spikeymarshmallows · 4 years

Text

alright bitches, saddle up. it’s headcanon-ing time.

inspired by this post.

Specifically this section:

The standard urban fantasy female protagonist dating a werewolf who is not an alpha. Bonus points for it being a cute beta werewolfess who thinks her girlfriend’s perpetual posturing as the ‘baddest bitch on the block’™ is the most adorable thing ever. Extra bonus points for fuzzy baby werewolves and adopted babies. (Because actual wolf packs? Exist to raise children. They’re family units, focused around rearing cubs.)

#werewolves #queer wolves #werewolves as the foster parents of the supernatural world #if there’s a kid so much as sniffling in their general vicinity they’re going to get adopted #the fae discovered that they could straight-up hand off changlings to werewolf packs #no deception needed #magic using children of mundane parents who can’t handle it? #every pack has a dozen of them #fic ideas

okay this is one of the cutest reblogs I’ve gotten. imagine it werewolves just going YES FAMILY GOOD and adopting everyone and making sure they get attention and food and understand that it’s fine to be who you are and that you’re not alone, you’re pack now

Okay, I tried to do the Tumblr aesthetic thing, but it turns out, it takes more effort for me *not* to use capital letters, so fuck that.

Okay, but just imagine. The kids are all 13. Five has not yet fucked off into ye olde apocalypse. Reginald has caught Klaus wearing eyeliner and dancing around in one of Vanya’s skirts, because Allison rumoured him into doing 300 pushups last time he was caught in hers, and Vanya has no spine. So Reggie’s just shoved Klaus in the mausoleum, and as soon as he’s been let go, a sobbing Klaus sneaks out of the house.

He’s hiding in the alley outside the house, one of many probably, and is crouched on the ground, sniffing wetly and wiping furiously at his eyes. The eyeliner is long since smudged, but it’s stuck around because, hey, it’s not waterproof but it’s that shitty 90′s eyeliner that takes an insane amount of effort to get off. And he’s rolling a joint, but his hands are shaking.

And this queer werewolf couple happen to be walking by, and super-hearing etc etc, hear a kid crying.

And one of them is all “CHILD. CRYING. MUST PROTECT”.

“Maggie, ffs, you can’t just walk up to strange children and adopt them” “WATCH ME”.

And so this lovely werewolf couple, who are young, and haven’t been able to have kids of their own yet (but have a lovely pack back home) go and talk to a crying Klaus.

And Reginald has taught the kids loads of useless shit, but teaching them stranger danger? Nahhhh son. Sure, Klaus could put up a good fight, but why would he want to fight this nice couple?

And so, through tears, Klaus talks to them, and Maggie is like, looking up at her partner, Sofia, with these big earnest eyes. Because Sofia was like this, trapped with a shitty family who wouldn’t accept her for who she was. And Maggie is like “CAN WE ADOPT HIM” and Sofia is “...you can’t just take a kid off the street and adopt him” except Maggie basically did it to Sofia when they were both seventeen, so it’s not an effective argument.

And Klaus is crouched there, still in his damn skirt, his knees all bruised and filthy from being in the mausoleum, and his hands are grimy and a little bloody, and he can’t fucking roll this joint, and Sofia is just “he’s thirteen and smoking weed? THIS CAN NOT GO ON. MUST. PROTECT.”

And god, it does not at all take much convincing to come home with them except--

“I can’t leave without my favourite brothers 🥺“

Cue Klaus racing inside, trying to grab Ben and Diego to drag them off to his new family. And honestly, they’re not that hard to convince to leave either although they wonder if Klaus has lost the fucking plot, because he’s rambling and raving and not entirely making sense and he’s filthy and--well, he’s Klaus.

But Luther is very “No, we cannot split the team up >:(” and Klaus is just “Okay. Come with us, dipshit.”

And where Luther goes, Allison follows. That said, Allison had been listening from her room and is intrigued at the idea of an adventure.

And Five, who thinks they’re all a bunch of idiots, is just... “Ugh, I’m coming with because it’s me who will need to get you out of trouble when you inevitably land in it”.

And Five (and Ben) don’t like to leave Vanya out, so as soon as she’s back from her violin practice, they sneak her out too.

And that’s the story of how this lovely queer werewolf couple went on an afternoon stroll and adopted seven kids.

Because, hear me out if you’ve made it this far....

It’s initially a bit weird. The kids are used to competing for love and attention, for any skeric of a compliment. There are tiffs, really fucking fast. And Mom’s are like “Kids, this isn’t good pack behaviour”.

Luther’s ears pricking up because... “...does... does this mean we get to do Pack Bonding????”

Yes it does.

There’s no competitions here! Not any more than friendly ones, anyway. No competing for attention or love. It’s just lavished upon them because there’s a pack! Lots of parents!

Imagine one of pack members taking Luther outside to study the night sky, and teaching him all about moon cycles, and different stars and constellations. Some of these werewolves are as strong as him too, and he can spar without having to hold back!

Imagine some pack members saying “hey, Diego, let’s see who’s the fastest!” and Diego just *heavy breathing*. And of course, they let him win, but not in an obvious way. Just slowly building this kids confidence up, piece by piece. They don’t care about his stutter, and they show him love in loads of cuddles, and he learns to howl at the moon.

Allison is just... sisters. She’s always liked being the centre of attention, and so it’s an adjustment to be here with so many others. But she still gets attention. She’s shown that she doesn’t need to hold the limelight to be loved and valued and cared about. She doesn’t need to Rumour anyone because her opinions are actually allowed to be listened to. Why Rumour someone when she can just state why she wants to do something, and it’ll probably be allowed.

And they got to Klaus before his addiction spiralled out of control. They take him through graveyards during the day, not to make him control his powers, but to show him that he's never alone when facing his demons. Maybe they take him to a family crypt or something and introduce him to great grandmas and shit like that. It's hard to be scared of the dark and of demons when your parents run through the forests and howl at the moon and you have friendly ghosts on your team to talk to you when things get hard.

Some pack members are super smart, and for the first time, Five isn’t the smartest in the room. He weirdly relishes it. His thoughts and opinions and desires are listened to as well, and whenever he’s told no, he actually listens to why that is. Instead of treating him like a little asshole, they encourage his love of learning.

And then there’s Ben... Werewolf Parents: Now, Ben, we all have difficult things inside of us to control. Let's work on that and, also, on loving that beast inside us. 😌 Ben learns to control the Horror and it becomes like a giant swing and like, all the pack kids wanna be swung around by the Horror.... Cue pictures of the Horror with little ribbons wrapped around its tips or some bizarre and soft shit like that.

And finally, Vanya. Vanya, who is still Ordinary, at least at first. The Pack doesn’t mind her being on her meds, and don’t mind that she’s quiet and ordinary. There are other humans in the pack too! And they all love listening to Vanya play... Even when she’s just practicing, she usually ends up with a few people sitting there, delightedly listening in. And as time goes on, she thinks “hmm, maybe I don’t need these things for my nerves anymore... Maybe... Maybe I will be okay without them?” and Mom’s are like “well, there’s no problem if you need to go back on them, but if you want to try, we support you : )” And RUH ROH, there are powers??? HOLY SHIT. She’s mad as fuck, but instead of it being disastrous, she has loads of love and support. Like Ben, like al of the siblings, she has people there to help her learn how to manage her powers, and her emotions.

The kids are just totally loved upon and cherished and have someone there for them all the time.

And let’s not even get started on pack cuddles. actually, no, let’s.

Reggie used to be a real cunt about the kids and their need for contact. I mean, sure, they still tried to sneak into each others rooms for platonic cuddles all the time, but they sure as hell paid for it. And now?? Now, they can cuddle as much as they fucking want. Oh, Ben, Diego and Klaus wanna snuggle together every night? No worries, kids! We’re just gonna get you all a bigger bed and we can turn one of the bedrooms into a study or something. And slowly, there are just... entire pack cuddles. Allison has a bad day, and Klaus tugs her into the pile. And Luther sees and... Snuggles up behind her. Vanya, who is getting better at not being left out, who is more confident in herself, doesn’t fight when Allison brings her in. And Five? Five pretends he’s only there for Vanya, but they all know it’s a lie.

But they don’t call him on it.

Anyway. I’m just very here for a nice pack of werewolves adopting my babies, and them growing up happy and well-adjusted, and loved, and-----*record screeches to a halt*

DIEGO LOVES HIS NEW MOMS. BUT HE MISSES GRACE SO MUCH T.T

....So the Umbrella Academy band together for one final mission: to Mom-nap Grace.

It’s all very dramatic. I haven’t seen Spy Kids since I was, what, 13, but I’m gonna pretend it’s like that. They Mom-nap Mom, and she goes happily because she’s missed her babies and she gets to join the snuggle pile too. She loves helping out her new family too! And she learns new recipes and shares some of her own! Mom is happy too because LET GRACE BE HAPPY.

Anyway, they grow up happy, and well-adjusted.

And still as incestuous as fuck.

Like, that still happens in every universe.

And the wolf pack are like *chinhands* because like. Whatever.

/END

#spikey headcanons #long post #hmmmm not gonna tag it on the original...

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mrsrcbinscn · 4 years

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Wilbur Is Not Amused || The Robinsons

@wilbur-robinson, @mrrcbinson

Tl;DR: Franny and Cornelius tell Wilbur about the baby. It does not go well.

Date: August 23rd, 2020

FRANNY:

So about telling Cornelius she felt fine...turns out that was a lie. Once she got to her ninth week the morning (and noon, and night) sickness began. It got to the point she made excuses to be out during dinner time because she didn’t want to tell the family she was pregnant yet, but she couldn’t actually keep food down. Water and crackers were all that was on the menu these days. Even the foods she was craving she couldn’t actually enjoy! It was frustrating, but overall she was thrilled.

Due to her age and her history of miscarriages her doctor wanted weekly ultrasounds to keep an eye on the baby. Now at eleven weeks pregnant and rapidly approaching the second trimester, everything looked great. The baby had a strong heartbeat according to her doctor and that was all Franny had really hoped for. While eleven weeks wasn’t fully out of the danger zone for the most common window for miscarriage, she realized she couldn’t hide it much longer. They’d almost gotten caught already!

When Tallulah offered her a glass of wine at Wilbur’s birthday party — the fake one, the one with the family that they always did — she made up an excuse about being on a drinking hiatus to lose weight. Franny hoped her hands hadn’t instinctively gone to touch her abdomen like her brain had been telling her to do.

Eleven weeks with a strong heartbeat was already more than she had expected. It seemed like the right time to tell their family and Cornelius as ever took her lead on this. They told his parents first and Lucille squeezed Franny’s hand and reminded her that by loving their son, she’d already fulfilled all of their wishes for their family, and giving them Wilbur was just a pleasant bonus. Franny of course cried. What else could she do? Lucille was sometimes too ridiculously good to her.

Next it was Wilbur, and after Franny had stopped crying courtesy of Lucille being too damn wonderful, they called him into their bedroom to talk. Being on her feet was getting tiring, so talking at the window seat in their bedroom just felt more practical than sitting Wilbur down in his room. It was nap time right after this for the pregnant lady.

“Why am I nervous? Are you nervous? Am I freaking out again?” She leaned over to catch Cornelius in a kiss and tangled her fingers with his.

CORNELIUS:

Cornelius was still in shock. He partly couldn’t believe it. Almost didn’t if it weren’t for Franny growing sicker and her weekly doctor appointments. It was weird to imagine that at their age - they might be parents again. Just as Wilbur was on the verge of graduation…

He had been caught up in these thoughts all day. Every time he saw Franny now, actually. But especially today because they were telling everyone. His mother had cried. Actually cried. And then hugged him tight while his father made a science pun about atoms - his mother’s crying in his ears had drowned out the rest, to be honest.

But the kiss and her touch alone broke him out of his thoughts and he looked to Franny. “Oh! I - more like...well, I don’t know,” He admitted. “I mean, Wilbur’s almost an adult. Legally, at least. I know he can act childish sometimes, but he’s a good kid. I think he’ll be excited. He’ll probably teach them to be like his little sidekick and turn them against us at the age of two.”

He laughed a little at the joke, honestly believing it to an extent though. But he could get where Franny was coming from. Still, he wasn’t nervous himself.

Not until Wilbur came in.

“Hey, kiddo. Come have a seat, will you?”

WILBUR:

Wilbur and his parents didn’t really sit down for important talks often. There were a couple times when he was younger (like when they sat him down to say he might be a big brother, or when they sat him down and said actually no he wouldn’t be and his mum would cry). There were other memorable occasions of course, the last one being a dead relative.

He started going down a list of relatives that could have kicked the bucket, because there were of course some older ones. But could he play guess who? Or was that entirely inappropriate? Wilbur wandered into his parents room with eyebrows furrowed, debating over whether tact was good or bad in this case?

Wilbur eyed his mum first and then his dad, debating over who would spill the beans first. Then he shrugged and sat down in one of their chairs. “Okay what’s going on? Who died?”

FRANNY:

“What?”

Franny had a brief spiel loosely prepared but Wilbur’s comment threw her off track. Died, huh? No this was the opposite hopefully. Next week would mark the longest she’d stayed pregnant and her OB/GYN said especially considering her risk factors, her pregnancy was healthy. She couldn’t believe her luck at last after nearly twenty years of marriage.

A decade and a half of trying to grow their family, until a few years ago, when Franny’s broken hearts couldn’t take it anymore. Cornelius had always been so good, so understanding, and never once blamed her. She couldn’t say the same for herself.

It felt too good to be true and too perfect but yet, here they were. Wilbur was going to (most likely, very likely, it seemed) be a big brother. He’d be so much older than his baby brother or sister but he’d be their superhero and the thought of that made Franny’s eyes prick with tears so she took care not to go there right now.

“No, your father and I just have to share some exciting news.” Franny began, tightening just barely her grip on one of Cornelius’s hands. “Wilbur, your father and I found out I’m pregnant. At our age, I know, I thought it was a mistake too but I really am. Twelve weeks; in March you’ll have a little minion to teach to get into trouble. Around your father’s birthday, too...everything looks good this time around. Looks perfect.”

Franny’s grin almost hopped off her face, it was so wide! She reached for one of Wilbur’s hands and squeezed. “Isn’t that exciting?”

WILBUR:

There were a few different things Wilbur would have imagined that they’d have to say. Maybe some Great Uncle bit the dust, or they were planning another trip and they wanted him to give them input. Or maybe they were rethinking his request for a horse. You never knew. Wilbur was willing to be imaginative.

But then his mum started talking, and Wilbur could feel his heart sink. Not sink, maybe it just fell right out of his body and fell into the sea. The bemused look changed so swiftly, any hint of a smile gone from his face as he paled. He could remember the last time his mum had told him she was pregnant. It was years ago, and Wilbur had just assumed (like an idiot apparently) that they wouldn’t try again.

Why wasn’t he enough for them anyway?

Wilbur sucked in a breath and let it out again, forcing himself to try not to blow up. He wanted to. He wanted to so badly, because his parents really didn’t think about him at all did they? Wilbur immediately tugged his hand away from his mother, arms wrapping around himself defensively as he glanced between Franny and Cornelius. He was still waiting for one of them to say ‘just kidding’ but...well his parents wouldn’t pull that kind of a stunt with him.

Which meant no matter how improbable, no matter how horrible, it must be the truth. “Are you serious? Why would I be excited about this? In what world does ‘my mum could possibly kill herself again trying to have a real baby’ sound exciting?” Okay, maybe he couldn’t contain it.

CORNELIUS:

Of all reactions, Cornelius didn’t expect this one from Wilbur. Especially faced with the beaming face of his mother right now. But the moment his face changed, he knew something was wrong. And -

Real baby? What did that even…

“Wilbur, what do you by real baby? You’re our real son,” Cornelius began slowly, his mind trying to process everything. Something that was so exciting and joyous suddenly turned sour and was about to become a fight. One that would not be easily fixed either. “Its….you’re not be replaced, if that’s what you’re getting at. Or forgotten or any of that.”

Considering both of them were orphans, he could put himself in Wilbur’s mindset in a way. But not much. Because this reaction was just - shocking. Were they being selfish though? Were they bad parents to bring this up at Wilbur’s age? He turned to look at Franny, his brows coming together in concern.

FRANNY:

Franny first felt white hot anger at her son’s reaction. It was as if for a brief moment she resented him as much as she’d ever loved him.

(And briefly, she was angry at Cornelius for not at least gently chastising him for yelling at his mother, but she reminded herself that Cornelius was a better person than she was. He heard Wilbur’s hurt first, whereas Franny first tuned into the anger. Thank god Cornelius was here. She would have shouted right back if not for him.)

How dare he, she thought though. Now, she expected her son to make a joke about how old she was. She wasn’t stupid enough to think Wilbur, a happy only child, would be thrilled. She expected, however, a quick ‘oh? Cool. Anyway is that all?’

What she didn’t expect was such a reaction.

How dare he, in one instant, rob her of her joy. Franny’s heart sank as she thought to herself this is a mistake.

And as quickly as her anger appeared, it subsided, as it always did when she was angry with Wilbur. His words cut but after feeling the impact of those words it was as if she pressed pause on her hurt to instead focus on Wilbur’s, because that’s what moms are supposed to do.

She could cry to Cornelius later or perhaps her mother, but who could Wilbur go to? He usually sought her out for comfort but who now?

“Wilbur…what are you saying?” Franny said quietly as her face fell, before for once in her obnoxious life, she struggled to find words. “You’re not...it...it was an accident, we didn’t mean—“ wait. Was she about to apologize for being pregnant? She sighed and her hand flinched to reach forward and hold Wilbur’s hand, play with his hair, anything, but he’d batted her hand away not a moment ago. “Wilbur, honey. You are our real baby. There is nothing we love more than you and being your parents. Nothing, honey.”

WILBUR:

Honestly, Wilbur thought it was pretty clear what he meant. He was being replaced. By a younger model that would probably be nicer than Wilbur and more likeable than Wilbur because they wouldn’t be as bratty as he could be. They’d probably “try to get it right” this time, and where would that leave Wilbur? Miserable.

“Really?” He asked, and he couldn’t help but snort. Of course he’d be forgotten. A baby would demand all their attention, and when Wilbur would need them for college things or anything else, he’d probably get ignored. His whole family would probably coo at the baby and focus on what it wanted and needed and he’d be pushed by the wayside. Wilbur wasn’t stupid. He knew babies needed a ton of attention.

“Why would you still care about having another baby? That’s what I just don’t get! Mum was always so messed up by this shit, and yet that’s always been it. ‘Why can’t I have a real baby to take care of?’ You didn’t say it in as many words, but the implication is pretty fucking clear.” So what if Wilbur was a bit spoiled? Who were the people that had spoiled him in the first place? Oh yeah, it was them.

He didn’t look forward to watching the way his mum would try to do things differently so this baby, their actual biological one wouldn’t turn out like him. He hated it. He hated it he hated it. He was going to be sick. “I can’t believe you’d do this now! What, I’m going to go off to college soon so it doesn’t matter what I think? That’s great really. Have fun with your new family.” He stumbled to his feet. He needed to get out of here. He wanted to cry, but he was nothing if not determined to do that in the comfort of his own space, without the people who hurt him around.

FRANNY:

“Wilbur!” Franny exclaimed, springing out of her seat but not advancing toward her son. She wouldn’t force him to stay but he wasn’t going to storm out without one final attempt to reach him.

And, yeah, maybe she said his name in the ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ tone but with the way he was speaking to his parents right now did he expect any different? His words were hurtful not only to her as his mother, but as a person in general. Franny kept her composure enough to keep from well and truly yelling at Wilbur but under the far too consistent volume of her voice was boiling anger.

“What do you mean ‘new family?’ For once would it kill you to not be so over-dramatic. Like I just. I just wanna know. You know damn well, Wilbur, that plenty of families have more than one child in them. We wanted a big family because we just did, okay? We just did. There’s no other explanation. We just wanted that. But your father -”

Never slowed down. Never could press pause so we could adopt again so I had to try the old-fashioned way even though my body kept telling me I couldn’t do it.

“- and I just kind of shelved that for the most part. We stopped tryin’ years ago, I didn’t get pregnant to piss you off. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around Wilbur Robinson. Sometimes it just happens. What was I supposed to do when I found out I was pregnant, huh? What would have made you happy?”

A beat, and Franny pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“Get out. Go to bed. Or don’t, I don’t care, just get out.”

WILBUR:

So the world didn’t revolve around Wilbur. He knew that already. His mum made it even more clear that he wasn’t that special. He wasn’t enough for them. He’d never been enough for them. If he had, then his parents wouldn’t have cared about a big or a small family. They would have just let that baby stuff be and loved him.

Why did mum think he was overdramatic? It wasn’t overdramatic to realize he was being replaced! It would be different if they’d adopted or had another kid when he was still little, when it was a normal thing to do. This wasn’t normal. He’d never felt so unappreciated in his life, and he’d had his moments of doubt.

“Oh I know the world doesn’t revolve around me. And it never will, because that new baby’s just going to replace me and that’s just great. I’m glad you get a do over to have a better kid.” And since he was already in it, and he’d clearly already pissed off his mum too, Wilbur headed out, both middle fingers waving at them as he made his way out. He’d break down once he was alone. He wouldn’t cave until then.

#wilbur #cornelius #like a dream

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suicidalcatz · 5 years

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Dog Days Are Over : Chap 3

AN : hi guys! A longer chapter in which we get to meet Jake for real. I had fun writing it, especially the dialogues, I hope you’ll like it. Next chapter will be next week, I’ll be abroad again but I’ll have more free time. I think we can categorize this as a slow burn / friends to lovers fic. The more I write ideas the more I know where this is going. Feel free to leave me feedback!

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap1 ; Chap 2

Masterlist : here

Chapter three : Mind if I join you ?

By the time I finished my assignment, birds were chirping and sunrays were piercing through the scraggy branches of the December trees. A pleasant fog had settled around school, covering the park and the fields in a white blanket. Sitting by the windowshill, legs against the radiator, I was sipping my first tea/coffee of the day, but not of the night. My eyes were pricking with the familiar sensation of tiredness. Boy I knew this school was elitist but the amount of homework was impressive, I already missed sleeping. That was the main reason Mandy and I kept skipping parties, to be honest. I went half of the time to keep in touch with people, and be a little social. Mandy went more often and I didn't know how she could cope with that already infernal routine.

We were so busy painting and sewing that we napped whenever we had the time, every minute counted, we literally had no time to waste cooking or cleaning up the room we lived in. And the worst is that it wasn't even an excuse to our laziness, it was real.

Fabric of different colors and patterns were scattered accross the floor, a huge pile of canvas was pushed to a corner, our walls had my digits on them in the form of black dots because I didn't wash my hands after doing some charcoal drawing, and Mandy's sewing mannequin fully clothed in the middle of the kitchen always threatened to give me a heart attack whenever I went to the toilet and saw it in the corner of my eye. The good thing was that living together on campus and sharing a room was way cheaper than renting a place, and the legend was true ; art students really are broke. Sure it was smaller than we had expected, especially after filling it with all of our stuff, and we had to share showers and toilets with the other residents of the dorm but hey at least we had a little kitchen.

My phone alarm started ringing softly, and I immediately set if off, still gazing outside the windows at crows eating yesterday’s french fries and students already chatting, displaying posters for the Christmas school festival, and smoking in the designated area. Mornings really were for coffee and contemplation.

It turned out that my work paid off. Receiving compliments by the teachers was harder than expected but when they did congratulate me for my work, it felt twice as good. But that gigantic illustration got me running out of paper for the next assignment. Going to the school supplies store with a portfolio half my size was a pain in the ass, and feeling this enormous thing tug on my shoulder all day long was worst, but I had no choice. It was so unpractical that I accidentally kicked someone with it.

- Sorry I wasn't paying attention.

- No prob- Oh hey it's you.

- Josh ! Hi.

It was weird hearing his voice for the first time or at least talking for the first time, after having exchanged so many notes. I got cold just by looking at him, it's like he didn't even know it was Winter. Aside from a red and white flowered jumper, who definitely didn't seem warm at all, his tight jeans were cropped and he looked as extravagant as always. He had a very unique sense of fashion and I loved it, he really didn't look out of place in this school. A glance at his hands and I saw he came to buy some guitar strings. Before I could make small chat about it in order to break the ice, he saw me and addressed it, lifting the package in front of his face.

- That's for Jake, my brother. Playing the guitar isn't a part of my numerous talents.

So his name was Jake. Nice. I've been honestly so busy with work I had forgotten about him for a moment, but noneless mentally thanked Josh and his seemingly sixth sense for making things easier for me. The clerk was grumpy per usual, so we got out of the store before he could yell at us, and continued chatting in the hallway. It wasn't anything interesting, just getting to know each other a little. Much to my surprise, it wasn't awkward like I may have imagined it to be. Josh was a nice guy with great conversation and seeing him being at ease made me feel less shy too. He suddenly got in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder.

- So sorry about that ball of paper the other day, my pitcher skills are rusty.

- Not one of your talents either ?, I teased.

His expression softened before a small grin appeared on his face, nodding and shaking his finger like I just made a point. He gave me a light tap on the shoulder as the bell rang, cue for us that we should be in front of our respective classrooms.

- Let's meet here and have lunch together with Mandy, I'll show you real talent. We get out at 1 !, he added, running in the corridor past students to go to his next class.

Fuck, I really have to tell Mandy.

Having luch together wasn't exactly what I expected. But somehow, it made sense ?

After texting Mandy something along the lines of « Saw Josh while buying paper, he wants to eat lunch with us today ??? », I wondered how he knew our names and then remembered the teacher calling us last time because we were ''disturbing class''. Yeah no wonder Jake doesn't want to hang out with us. My eyes were on the clock the whole time I was in the workshop. Even without having to meet Josh, they were always. The atmosphere was heavy, nobody was allowed to say a word, not even « bless you » when another student sneezed. And it lasted four full hours. Thank God we could eat, drink and listen to music while painting (never understood this teacher's sense of priorities) otherwise I would've fell asleep on my canvas.

By the time I got out of my misery, Mandy was already waiting for me outside, assaulting me with questions. After little deliberation we thought it was best for us to run to our room to change, one of the pros of being in a boarding school. It was noon, and Josh said he'd go out at one, that let us some time to talk and wash away the paint from my arms.

- He said we had to meet them in front of the shop, I called from under the shower.

- What do you mean « them » ?

Turning off the water, I scrubbed my eyes. Yeah, what did he mean « we » ?

- I have no clue, he was in a rush. We should ask his number next time, if he wanna meet again.

- It'll save us three a lot of paper.

Letting out a snort, I got out of the shower, catching a clean shirt Mandy threw at my face for me to wear before going to meet Josh and whoever was with him. Boy oh boy was I not disappointed when I saw Jake's silhouette from the other end of the corridor. Panicking a little and trying to be discrete, I quickly glanced at the door behind me but Mandy caught it and put her hands on my shoulders to keep me from escaping this situation. It was so uncomfortable. The hallway was painfully long, just next to the cafeteria so sometimes someone would go out and slow us down, making things even more embarrassing. They made no move to meet us halfway but Josh interrupted his conversation with his brother to wave at us with a wide movement, shaking his arm in the air, which we replied by the tiniest gesture ever, the one you make at the supermarket when you see someone you really don't want to at the moment. That tiny wave of the hand, exactly.

- Hi ladies, I took the liberty of inviting my brother to the party, as he was feeling lonely without me.

- Not really, Jake interjected.

He greeted us with a smile and a charming nod, wearing actual winter clothes, in comparision to his twin. The dark oversized sweater and grey denim jacket looked good on him, like literally everything else, and I tried not to stare.

- Hi, I'm Jake, he said to cover Josh's pouting and complaints about him lying.

- I know, I half-whispered.

I got so busy staring at his brown eyes that I replied without thinking and now he was standing in front of me with a puzzled expression on his perfect face. Mandy poked me in the ribs, trying to save what was left of the chances of him wanting to have anything to do with us.

- Josh told us about you, she said with a convincing smile. Shall we eat ?

Not very subtle, but nice attempt to change topics.

- Oh yeah, let's go ! I have found the perfect place.

The ever enthusiastic Josh took the lead and we all followed after him as he showed and introduced every corner of the school like a real tour guide, only saying bullshit instead of real historical info, but judging by his interest in Art History class we weren't really shocked. What had us three surprised however was the place we were in when he exclaimed « Voilà ! ».

- It's a staircase, pointed out Jake.

- It's a place full of possibilities, corrected Josh.

Mandy gave me a look like they were both crazy and I could tell by her face she wondered how we got into that mess. Josh sat first and his brother, defeated, did the same, sitting by his side and motionning for us to join them. The patterned floor tile was cold as hell beneath me and I had so many questions I wanted to ask but didn't dare to do so-

- So why are we eating on the stairs ?

For a second I thought I had thought out loud but it was Mandy who broke the silence.

- See ?, Josh said to his brother, Told you eating in the park was best.

Jake shook his head like he couldn't believe it before looking at us.

- This crackhead wanted to have a picnic. It's literally freezing outside.

- So eating inside was your idea ?, I asked to made sure I understood.

With a nod, he took his backpack while speaking, unwraping his lunch from its aluminium foil.

- Yup. Looks like I'm the reasonable one. Didn't know we were gonna eat here though, he added with a little apologetic gaze.

- Well excuse me sir I did my best, Josh chimed in.

We couldn't help laughing a little, as Josh angrily tore the aluminium of his sandwich. What I also couldn't help was stealing glances at Jake who was sitting in front of me, by the window. It turned out the boy was less intimidating that I first had thought. Talking to him was nice, I had the feeling that he really care about what I said, looking me in the eye and nodding, listening intently before replying. He sounded like a quiet, composed, and cultured person, and I found his presence soothing. His low, raspy voice had a serene je ne sais quoi that I couldn't really explain. To top it off, his smile, just like his brother's, was mesmerizing.

- Still, said Mandy with his mouth full after someone made them move to use the stairs, you know we could've eat at the cafeteria, right ?

She teased and Josh started shouting again that he wanted a picnic, which made us all laugh because it was the hundredth time he had to justify his poor life choices.

- Oh yeah, I just remembered !

In a second, he calmed himself and his face lit up with the look of someone who just got a great (or terrible) idea. One thing I learned is that with Josh, it could've been both, we never knew. He fumbled in his bag in search of something, squirming, making a mess, giving his half eaten sandwich to Jake for him to hold and almost knocking him out with his elbow.

- I told you I'll show you real talent, he said with his head in his bag.

Four curious eyes turned to meet my gaze and I shrugged.

- He did ?, Jake wondered.

- Yeah, it made me freak out a little.

A little laugh escaped from his lips, and it was the cutest thing I had ever heard. Not that I'll admit it out loud. Thankfully, Josh interupted my staring contest with his twin and threw a bag of cheese balls our way. The sound it made almost covered the « Oh, not again » complaint from Jake and I quirked an eyebrow. Mandy opened the bag like she was asked to.

- Shoot, I'll catch.

Jake face palmed while Josh was already in position.

- That's the talent you were talking about ?, Mandy asked unsure. I don't know why, I should be surprised, but I'm not.

He was actually pretty good at it, if that was even something to be proud of. I could see her having a good time throwing chips his way and booing the rare times he missed.

- I swear they have after school contests with our brother.

Hearing Jake talking to me made my head jerk off of Josh. Brother ? Mandy caught the same info and paused the ball throwing to look at him.

- Do you guys have another brother ?

I took a sip of water while they were explaining, taking this opportunity to look at the hour just to make sure we won't be late to our next class as we were all in different buildings.

- Oh yeah, Sam, he's studying music too, but we're not in the same grade, said Josh. People often mistake him and Jake for twins even though he's the youngest.

This info almost had me choking on water imagining another Jake but fortunately, they mistook it for outrage that people would think that. By the time the bell rang, we learned that they all were staying in the dorms too, in another building. The twins shared a room together, whereas Sam and Danny, their best friend, shared theirs. We didn't exchange numbers, since Mandy forgot to ask and I was too shy to, but when we parted ways, they both left saying « See you later ».

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Eighty-Seven: Open ___ ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, alcohol, vulgarity ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

He’s never liked weddings. But at least this one has something he can appreciate: that being an open bar.

Sipping his whiskey on the rocks, Sasuke tries to ignore the party behind him. A little difficult to do, however, as the groom’s best man. He never thought the idiot would manage it, but...here they are, celebrating his wedding to his childhood sweetheart.

The same woman that obsessed over Sasuke nearly their entire primary and secondary school careers.

But hey, apparently people change. And he couldn’t be happier for them. Maybe with the pair of them hitched, they’ll have less time to drive him nuts.

...they’re his friends. Really, they are. But sometimes they really test that definition is all.

“Excuse me…”

Glancing over as someone steps up to his right, Sasuke recognizes one of Sakura’s bridesmaids: Hinata Hyūga. Ino had the honor of being her, well...maid of honor. The two have been inseparable since first grade...even if they had their rough spots due to...eugh, competition over who, apparently, was going to end up dating Sasuke.

Now Ino just needs to get married…

Hinata, however, was more their wallflower friend, from what he can recall. The quiet background girl to their bombastic natures and forward actions. And in all honesty, he’s surprised she’s here, all things considered. After all...she was head over heels for Naruto for a long time. It’d been hard enough for her, surely, when Naruto and Sakura started dating. He can only imagine what it’s gotta be like being a bridesmaid in their wedding.

Sure, it might’ve been a while ago now...but first loves always stick with you, right?

Sasuke wouldn’t know. He hasn’t had one yet. And doesn’t really plan on it, in all honesty.

Still, he snaps from his spirit-tinged stupor as she asks the barkeep for...ginger ale? A dark brow perks, and his addled mind doesn’t censor asking, “You feelin’ sick?”

Startling a bit at his voice, she nearly sloshes her soda. “W...what?”

“Ginger ale. Isn’t it good for stomach aches?”

Pale eyes blink. “Um...yes, but...I just...I don’t drink.”

“Whaaat?”

There’s a soft snort at his rather...obvious slip in character. “It’s just n-not my thing.”

“But there’s an open bar - it’s free!”

“And so is the soda,” she replies simply.

Sasuke scoffs...but doesn’t have a retort.

“Is there a reason the b-best man is getting so...sloshed?”

“Psh, I’m not sloshed. Just...taking the edge off,” he mutters.

“...edge?”

“...I hate weddings.”

“Oh...then why did you…?”

“S’not like I could say no,” he sighs, realizing her question before she finishes. “He’s my best friend. I guess. I dunno. He can be a right prick sometimes, but…” Shoulders lift in a shrug.

Hinata gives a smile that’s both sympathetic...and perhaps a bit amused. “I mean...I wasn’t exactly Sakura’s b-best friend in high school. To be honest...I don’t know w-why she asked me.”

“Could be she just wanted to boost her maid numbers,” he offers, examining his held-aloft cup. It’s almost empty...he needs to fix that. “She’s a show-off that way. Probably wants t’be able to shove that in Ino’s face later, that she had more bridesmaids…”

The Hyūga’s expression falls just a hair...and thankfully Sasuke notices. Ooh...he said a bad, didn’t he?

“...or maybe she wants to reconnect,” he tries to amend, but it’s clearly too late. Apparently she hadn’t considered the possibility she’s just number fodder as opposed to a valued friend. Sasuke doesn’t know their relationship: he can’t exactly speak on the matter, just offer a theory. But...clearly there’s a hint of truth to it if she takes it to heart.

After a pause, she slides up onto the stool besides him, taking a sip of her soda. “...maybe. At least it’s been fun, I guess…”

“Fun? Really?”

“In a way.”

“How’s it fun to watch your childhood sweetheart marry someone else?”

...damn it, he really needs to learn to shut up. Maybe he has had too much to drink if he’s going to blurt things out like that...like some kind of asshole.

Hinata flinches. “...that was...a long time ago.”

“...uh huh. Your reaction’s real telling.” Someone shut this man up!

Pale eyes slide to their corners to give him a look. “...and you’re c-clearly still bitter about how Sakura treated you...at least I made an e-effort not to let my feelings ruin their day. I’m sure they’ve noticed the best man sulking and drowning his sorrows…”

“You kidding? Those two only notice me when they want something,” Sasuke scowls, kicking back the rest of his whiskey and flagging for another. “S’far as I know, my duties are over for the night...I’m done. We did the toasts and all that nonsense. All that’s left is cake and dancing...and I hate cake. And dancing.”

“Do you like anything?” Hinata asks with a sigh.

“...yeah. But nothing I like is here.”

“What a winning attitude,” she half teases, half drawls.

“My cynicism is all that keeps me going.”

Her eyes roll. “...I don’t know what’s going to pickle you first: your drinks, or your vinegar attitude.”

At that, he gives a snicker. “...that was a good one. You’ve got a sense of humor. I learned something new.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Though to be fair…I dunno anything about you besides that you were that weird, quiet kid in school.”

“Not much has changed, really,” she assures him. “Now I’m just the w-weird, quiet adult at work.”

“The one everyone’s afraid is gonna go ballistic?”

“More like the one that gets walked all over. But at least I can pay my rent,” she replies, shrugging.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“What about you? Still mister popular?”

His lips fall into a pout. “...nah. Well, maybe a bit. I’m just another lackey in my dad’s company while my brother gets groomed for a top dog role. I’m fine with being whatever, so long as I can afford what I need to. Just gets old, y’know? I love my brother, and I love my dad. But it leaves a guy wondering what it’s like to be the favorite.”

Hinata gives a sympathetic frown. “...sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, but...I brought it up.”

“Was only fair - I asked you first.”

The music then quiets, and the pair turn to see Naruto attempting to remove Sakura’s garter for a crowd of luck-seeking guys in attendance.

Sasuke’s face falls into one of disgust. “Eugh...creepy.”

“What?”

“...you take a garment from a newly-wedded woman’s thigh...and you toss it to a bunch of dudes who probably just wanna use it as an excuse to get laid. Just like ladies use the bouquet as one to hint at getting married.”

Hinata can’t help a snort. “...I’ll admit, it’s weirder than the bouquet. But hey, traditions are usually weird.”

“I’d never let my wife do that. Anything under her gown is husband-only, far as I’m concerned.”

A far less dignified snort works its way from Hinata’s nose, almost spilling her ginger ale.

“...what?”

“Noting, just...w-wasn’t expecting that,” she giggles.

There’s an uproar as the garter is thrown, and then comes the bouquet. “...gonna go try?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’m hardly even looking to date, let alone get married,” she replies with an exasperated smile. “...better to let someone else have that moment. It wouldn’t m-mean anything to me.”

“...fair enough.”

With that, the music kicks back up, and the pair lapse into a companionable silence. He’ll admit...seems Hinata’s grown a bit since they last spoke, what...back in high school? Seems her shyness is still there, just...with a new tinge of sass. Or maybe just a bit more confidence...or it could be a lesser tolerance for bull.

Either way...he’s having fun talking to her. By far, in his opinion, the best part of the night he’s had yet.

“...do you want to dance?”

“Huh?”

“Dance. Do you want to?”

“I told you, I hate dancing.”

“And I hate seeing you mope. You’re here, you might as well do something, right?”

“I am doing something,” he sniffs. “I’m drinking.”

Giving him a look, Hinata abandons her half-empty glass and tugs on him. “...come on.”

“No.”

“Come o-on!”

“I said no!” he retorts, nevertheless stumbling off his stool at her insistence. “The hell’s your problem, lady?”

“I’m bored, and I want to dance. And I don’t know anyone else here well enough to dance with. And you need to take a break. I don’t want you miserable in the morning.”

“Who says you’d even see me in the morning?” he retorts, following her into the crowds.

“I suppose that depends on how the night goes,” she teases back, smile ensuring him that’s one hundred percent a joke.

...but it still makes him pause.

Giving a little shimmy, she tries to egg him into dancing. “Can you still manage basic motor skills?”

“Course I can. Maybe I just don’t want to.”

“Either way, you’re doing it.” She gives him a pointed look. “Dance with me.”

Heaving a sigh, he blinks owlishly at her. “...fine. But you owe me a drink, since I never got my second whiskey before you whisked me away.”

Snorting at the wordplay, she replies, “I’ll consider it...after you dance.”

Sighing, he does a little...something. “...how’s that?”

“Pathetic,” she laughs. “Come on! You have to try.”

“All right, all right…” Following her lead, he just sort of...grooves around. Sasuke’s never been much of a dancer, but...this isn’t too bad.

...and maybe he really wants her to get him that drink.

.oOo.

I had an UBER long day and I'm v tired and only just managed to get this done at two am, sO...I'm gonna be brief, lol I dunno...what this is. I stared at the prompt before the phrase 'open bar' popped into my head, and we got...this. Out of a very tired author's brain. So I have nO idea if it's any good. Hinata feels...a lil ooc? But she's feelin' the sass after her convo with Sasuke, and tbh the look she gives Hanabi in The Last when Hanabi's teasing her tells me that Hinata DOES have some inner sass (even if The Last isn't the greatest movie and I replace Naruto with Sasuke in it, in my head xD). So maybe it's not too bad. I dunno. I'm v tired, ahaha~ Annnyway, I need to go sleep, so that's it outta me for now! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #alcohol //#vulgarity //#best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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lunastories · 6 years

Text

Love me to Death

Link: AO3

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester (Destiel)

Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Dean is Death, death!dean, that's why there's a major character death tag lol, because I mean Cas kinda has to die to meet his fave person in the universe, angst, brothers grimm au, fairytale based, AU, self harm, suicide, more information on the warnings in the end notes

Word Count: 9219

Square filled: Brothers Grimm AU

Summary: There once was a man who feared Death. He feared him so much, he tried to seek immortality but his efforts were in vain. Eventually, he learned to love Death and everything he represented. This is the story of a mortal and a god and their love for each other.

A/N: Written for @spnangstbingo . Now with amazing graphic art by @envydean! You can check it out here. Edit: Now with an awesome multimedia art piece by @uncelestieldestiel! You can find it here.

There once was a man who feared death. Nestled in the outskirts of the kingdom, Castiel lived in a small village that had seen many trials and tribulations. He watched as his family died, one by one, succumbing to an unknown disease. He watched as slowly, the once prosperous village dwindled down to a meager population of one human and many wild animals.

He knew he was next. As the last survivor, he understood, with a steady resignation, that he had lived longer than most and he should be grateful for it. Standing alone in a field that smelled more of decaying flesh than the poppies that had once populated the vast open area, Castiel felt only a disparaging sense of loneliness. His isolation and the silence of a land unused to such despair, led him to pray for salvation. He tried everything he could to save himself, shaking as he knelt by his bedside. The candlelight cast a glow over his body, one that highlighted his malnourished form and the dulled glimmer of his blue eyes. “Please.” He would breathe out in a hoarse whisper, the final symptoms of the disease showing in his sunken cheeks and the blood that oozed out of the sores on his body. “Please just one more day.” The next day, he died.

When Castiel opened his eyes he sighed, the grimace pulling at his face even though he knew it was just the residue phantom limb sensation of a physical body. He floated to his feet, his steps silent as he walked through the fog to find the man he seeked. He practically glided across the floor, his motions unhindered. He was unselfconscious of his nudity, as there was no point in being embarrassed. The first few times he’d been here it had been jarring but now it was mostly just irritating. Frowning, he passed the barrier and knew he had entered Death’s territory. Where before he was in the hazy nothingness of Limbo, he now felt the imagined prick of leaves on his bare feet, the forest floor almost moist with dew. He lazily stretched out a hand to the deer that approached him, smiling gently when it nosed at his hand before bounding off and disappearing between one blink and the next. The moon lit his path as he walked through the forest, following a trail he knew by heart. All the creatures and the scenery were conjured by Death; it seemed the man was more comfortable in a domain which resembled mortal lands. It was something that had piqued Castiel’s interest, this small detail that seemed otherwise insignificant. Despite his god-like position in the universe, Death remained utterly fascinated with life. Even now, after all the times he’s entered this realm, it still left a sense of awe in him. It was this otherworldly nature of it that seemed to be intertwined in every molecule in the air. Even though Death tried to mimic the mortal realm, there was still a mystical quality to the forest that made it seem just a little off. Still, he could appreciate the effort. As if sensing his presence, the forest almost rustled in excitement, the moon brightening its glow for one unnatural moment before dimming. After a few more steps, he reached the clearing. As usual, Death was sitting cross legged on a giant rock, his hands loosely settled on his knees. He was dressed in his usual bizarre combination of robes, a ceremonial purpose for it that Death never bothered to explain to him. It was an elegant piece of clothing, layered with long sleeves. The color was pitch black but in the light it seemed to shimmer blue at times. The entire clearing was covered in red poppies, the color almost like fresh spilled blood. The man’s eyes were luminescent and focused unerringly on him, glowing of a green color that reminded Castiel of life and spring. Ironic really, since he was quite literally Death. Death grinned wide and jumped down, almost stumbling in his haste. He barely caught himself with a hand on the boulder, straightening up with a sheepish rub to the back of his neck. Death approached the mortal and waved his fingers a little, frowning when Castiel seemed to stare back at him in confusion. “Hi Castiel.” Death hesitated, waving his fingers again. “This is still the greeting for humans correct?” Castiel tilted his head, considering the weird gesture Death had just shown him and quirked his lips up to one side in amusement. “Hello, Death.” Castiel paused, his eyes drifting as he drank in the sight of the man before him. “I wouldn’t know. I lived in a small village this time. Hardly the center of new age thought.” “Ah.” Death murmured, his gaze darting over Castiel’s body, observing with those haunting eyes of his. They flared for a moment, the power in them breathtaking before fading back to his unassuming green. Castiel felt his own breath hitch at the display, a needless reaction seeing as he didn’t exactly need to breathe in this form. Still, they were ingrained in him, his reactions to this mysterious man. Dean smirked, noting the way Castiel had reacted to his glowing eyes. “I’m glad to see you again.” “Wish I could say the same to you. Death is never fun.” Castiel grimaced, remembering how he’d had a high fever after his prayers and subsequently died after choking on his own vomit. Death’s lips thinned, his eyes playful even as his mouth pulled into a sympathetic grimace. “Hey, I’m plenty fun.” Death laughed as he winked at Castiel, making him feel shivery inside. Castiel cleared his throat, looking down at his incorporeal feet. Dean leaned in close, forcing Castiel to meet his eyes before his softened with affection, the green of them glinting in the light. “And I told you already to call me Dean.” This time Death’s grimace was real, a furrow in his brows with teeth bared. “Being called Death makes me feel old. It’s a bit too morbid for my taste.” Castiel rolled his eyes at that, though his smile showed his fondness for the god in front of him. “Only you would complain about that.” “Well, I wouldn’t want to feel like I’m robbing the cradle. Especially if we’re dating.” Dean’s words were said with a sense of confidence to it, as if he was used to getting what he wanted. Slowly, Castiel took a step back, sighing and folding his arms across his chest as he did. He hugged himself, chewing at his lips absentmindedly. He couldn’t feel the bite of his teeth, but it was the familiar motions that helped settle him. “Dean we’ve talked about this before.” Castiel’s words were solemn, the regret in them palpable as he darted his eyes up to face Dean head on. The god’s eyes were flinty with hurt and they shone with a sort of desperation. He stepped closer to Castiel, holding his palms up beseechingly when the mortal took another hasty step back. Dean stopped his advance then, dropping his hands down and clenching them into fists. “Yes, we have, but I don’t care.” “Dean-” “Why can’t we be together? I don’t mind waiting lifetimes for you. As long as we have these few moments in Limbo together I’m happy.” Castiel closed his eyes, the action useless because in this form he could sense Death from a mile away. Dean felt like the void of sleep and the absence of light. He felt like the dark things that mold, the smell of dead leaves and the cold fear of the unknown. These parts of Dean barely scratched the surface and it reflected his role as Death. However, Castiel also knew that Dean was lonely. He knew the man enjoyed growing poppies, mostly because the red brought a pop of color to the perpetual night in his realm. He knew that the god had a weird fascination with the development of transportation, claiming that it would go far and that one day humans would be riding fast speedy things that roared like thunder and smelled of smoke. He knew that Dean was almost childlike in his intensity, always wanting to learn more about the human realm and their foods. He also knew that Dean loved him, for some indecipherable reason. Castiel was always too afraid to ask, terrified the answer wouldn’t be one he could accept. Still, it was obvious to him that a relationship like this would never work. He couldn’t stay in Limbo for long, otherwise his soul would disintegrate. It was always nice seeing Dean for these brief moments, but a relationship was unrealistic. Castiel opened his eyes, huffing out a breath heavily through his nose as he walked past the god and into the field of poppies. He ignored the defeated slump of Dean’s shoulders, knowing the man would pull himself together soon enough. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As predicted, Dean straightened up, giving himself a quick shake before turning around and facing Castiel with a tentative smile. “I guess I’ll try again next time.” He didn’t say anything, only staring at Dean as he walked over to the poppy nearest to Castiel and plucked it with strong fingers. It was time. Castiel felt the tugging sensation deep within him, an urgency to it that increased the longer he stood there. Dean tucked the flower behind Castiel’s ear, the large poppy clinging to his skin through Dean’s powers; he was incorporeal after all. “What’s this one for?” Castiel whispered, shuddering as he felt his soul slowly disperse, little spheres of flashing blue flying away. “For luxury and beauty. Your last life was pretty harsh.” Dean stepped closer, his eyes conflicted. Already Castiel could see the man shuttering his feelings away, hiding the constant loneliness that plagued him. It was only because of the sadness in his gaze that Castiel closed his eyes and allowed Dean to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost pretend he could feel the warmth of it. “I need to go.” Dean’s hands tightened on his face, the press of his hands heavy on his cheeks. The man crowded closer, as if reluctant to let him go. “Stay.” Dean whispered, his voice pained as he rested his forehead against Castiel’s. “I can’t.” And with those last words, his consciousness left his body. Vaguely, he remembered floating and drifting gently around Dean, the man reaching out to touch the blue blinking lights he’d become. Dean had told him once it reminded him of fireflies, a phenomenon he’d not had the opportunity to witness in his many lifetimes. The flower that Death had bestowed upon him floated with him, a blessing to be carried on to his next life. With one final caress, his soul flowing over the entity that was so much more powerful than he was, Castiel disappeared.

There once was a man who feared death.

The court would say he was blessed, that the birthmark of a poppy flower on the side of his neck meant he was destined for wealth and beauty. Castiel would not deny it, instead enduring the reverent gazes of both nobleman and ladies alike. His birthmark was something that brought him both joy and trouble.

When he touched it, fingers gentle on stubbled skin, it felt like the caress of another. Sometimes, the flower seemed almost alive, resonating with his soul. It made him feel...lonely. There was a gaping emptiness in his heart that he noticed over the years, the feel of it all consuming and almost overwhelming. He didn’t know why, but some nights he woke up gasping, the phantom sensation of cold skin and rough lips on his forehead. The dreams (memories, a part of him whispered) haunted him. The noble did not enjoy the attention his mark brought him, but the man knew it was necessary to keep his position. As long as the population worshipped him, he would live comfortably. A noble in status, many people respected and feared him. Castiel was a fearless noble, one who believed he was owed the wealth he carried and the privileges he enjoyed. One day, after the death of one of his beloved retainers, he realized something dreadful. Life was too short. Everyone eventually died. It was then that he developed a fear of death. He didn’t want to lose his wealth and his power. He wanted to live forever. Following the guidance of a witch doctor he hired, he went on many journeys across the land, searching for an elixir of eternal life. He spoke to animals and people alike, learning the lay of the land he ruled. It was eye opening. He realized with shock that he’d never known the people he was responsible for. They gave him more than they had, and they were generous to a fault. Their actions humbled him and he returned to his castle wiser and older. He decided that his search for immortality was futile. Why search for eternal life when he could just enjoy the one he had currently? It was more than enough. The noble ignored the voice inside of him that said it wouldn’t be enough. He ignored the part of him that told him eternal life wasn’t what he’d really wanted. He’d been searching, a compulsive action, but he knew it was never about immortality. He searched because he felt empty. When he eventually passed away, buried in a field of red poppies, he was one of the most beloved nobles of the land and his people sang songs of his legacy.

He felt unmoored, drifting. With a content stretch, his consciousness filtered in and he opened his eyes. He languidly floated upright, heading into Death’s realm. Limbo was always empty and the white of it was boring to stare at.

When he stepped into the clearing, he felt his mouth pull into an involuntary grin, his voice gentle. “Hello, Dean.” Dean smiled without opening his eyes, the soft twitch of it highlighting his dimples. He stretched quickly, pulling both arms above his head and clasping them to each other to pull up his muscles. Shaking himself a little, he finally jumped down from the rock, this time significantly more graceful than the last. Stepping up to Castiel, Dean lifted his arms up before hesitating and dropping them back to his sides. Usually Castiel wouldn’t initiate contact between them because he didn’t want to mislead Dean. He was adamant that they couldn’t have a relationship. But...the life of a noble he’d lived showed him something he’d long suspected. Even with all the wealth he wanted and constant attention from admirers, he lived his noble life with a strong sense of longing. He always felt incomplete. It had made him pensive, towards the end of his life. Even then, he’d tried his best to take care of his people and make sure they were happy. He wasn’t happy but that didn’t mean he should drag his people down with him. It was with a sense of resignation, when he’d opened his eyes in Limbo, that he accepted who was causing that longing from within him. A feeling of love so strong that he felt it even through his different lives and with no memory of Dean. Still overwhelmed with the want inside of him, he pulled Dean close with a hand on his arm. Dean looked startled but went with the movement willingly, allowing Castiel to wrap his arms around the man. Tentatively, Dean hugged him back, pressing his face into Castiel’s neck and breathing in deeply. There was a certain amount of awe to Dean’s slow breathing, the tickle of it directly on the spot his birthmark had been in his last life. Castiel closed his eyes, enjoying this moment. Gradually, he felt himself relax in increments until he no longer felt so lost. This was what he’d been searching for his whole life. These interactions with Dean kept him alive. Castiel finally pulled back, Dean reluctantly letting go. They stared at each other for a second, letting the usual happiness they felt at seeing each other wash over them. “Hi Cas, how was the noble life?” Dean finally asked, pulling the man by his arm to the rock and lightly pushing him until he sat down. The poppies were tall, almost up to their chests as they sat, leaning against the rock. It should have made him feel suffocated but it just felt like a warm hug, like a blanket. The poppies were Dean’s creations after all, and the touch of them was almost playful as the wind rustled through them, brushing the flowers against his exposed skin. “It was...an interesting experience.” Castiel finally settled with, shifting until he was leaning companionably against Dean’s side. He knew that the god had only wanted the best for him by giving him that blessing. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “Ah,” Dean pulled one knee up and rested his arm against it, glancing at Castiel quickly before staring out into the woods surrounding them. “You don’t sound all that excited about it.” Castiel shrugged, unwilling to admit he’d been unhappy because he didn’t have Dean with him. Dean let the topic go, knowing by Castiel’s tense form that he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well, I’ll try to give you something else next time.” Dean settled with saying, brushing against Castiel’s bare shoulder lightly with his own. “I’m sure we’ll find something you’ll like eventually.” “Dean.” Castiel sighed, giving in to his impulses and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. He could feel Dean’s barely controlled glee at his rather affectionate gesture. Wisely, Dean didn’t say anything, just raising a hand up to card through Castiel’s dark hair. “You know you can’t keep giving me blessings, it’s unfair.” Dean scoffed, the sound jolting his body. “How do you know I’m not giving other souls the same blessings?” Castiel lifted his head up just enough to meet Dean’s eyes with a raised eyebrow, clearly doubtful of Dean’s claims. Dean for his part only laughed. Castiel smiled, helpless in the face of Dean’s happiness. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Dean laugh sincerely. “Okay point taken.” Dean replied to Castiel’s unspoken skepticism, his chuckles dying down enough for Castiel to resume his position, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. Still, even through Castiel’s protests, Dean plucked a poppy and slid it behind his ear. When Castiel asked what this one was for, Death’s eyes had grown distant, an almost fleeting look of bittersweet hurt passing through. “This one is for dreams.” They sat for a moment, bathing in the moonlight. “You’re special to me, you know?” Death spoke up in the tranquil quiet, his voice a soft rumble that Castiel could feel through his soul. When Dean slowly cupped a hand to his cheeks, turning his head until he could press a light kiss to his lips, Castiel didn’t resist. He pressed closer, holding onto Dean’s wrist with one hand and letting out a barely audible groan as he breathed. After a few more gentle pecks, he pulled away, his dark eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and the flush of them an imagined reaction to the stimulation Dean gave him. Dean’s eyes flared a brilliant green, the man clearly affected by their kisses. “I know.” They didn’t speak much after that and when Castiel slowly drifted into balls of light, flying to his next life, Dean clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch something in frustration.

There once was a man who feared death. The young man was stuck in a college that he didn’t want to go to, following the wishes of his parents. He was afraid that his time would run out and he would never be able to accomplish his goals. He had so many things he wanted to do, so many dreams. Dreams were the bane of Castiel’s existence. While he tried to be an obedient child, tried to follow his parents orders, he sometimes wished he could rebel. The man didn’t know when he started thinking like that, but he decided it was probably after the dreams started. Dreams of poppy flowers, a flower he’d never even seen before in person, and the gentle press of lips against his. Most of all, Castiel remembered startling green eyes, ones that crinkled in mirth and glowed with pleasure. He dreamed of a man that radiated power but held himself casually. The student, after a one night stand he hadn’t anticipated (her eyes were just so familiar, it had been hard to resist), startled out of his post-coitus bliss by the words of his bed partner. “So, have you told them yet?” The woman asked, her eyes staring into the ceiling of the small dorm room. The man looked over at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?” “The person you’re in love with.” The woman replied. When she turned her head to face him his breath hitched, the bright green of her eyes hypnotizing. “You were thinking of someone else.” He swallowed hard, his mind bringing up images of similar haunting green eyes. Fleeting phantom sensations of lips on his, pressing and moist, swept a shiver down his spine. He turned his back to her, clearly dismissing her words. “You should tell them.” The man closed his eyes, and dreamed. The night, his life slipped away peacefully, amidst dreams of dimpled smiles and arms that hugged him tight. He welcomed death.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this.” Dean joked, the moment Castiel stepped foot into the clearing. Castiel only rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in amusement. “This is the only place we can meet Dean.” Castiel deadpanned, his expression warming when Dean met him halfway with a hug. “I’ve missed you.” Dean breathed out, his slowly tracing up Castiel’s spine to cup at his neck. Castiel closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace. He felt enveloped and warm, almost high on the sense of home he felt with Dean. Eventually, he pulled back from Dean’s arms, just enough to press a kiss onto the man’s lips. Dean froze in surprise. This was the first time Castiel had kissed him of his own volition and though he was ecstatic, he still needed answers. “Cas…” Reluctantly, Castiel stopped, letting out a huff of breath. He knew it was time to come clean. His recent life had been particularly eye opening to him and the woman he’d met had shone a light on his own feelings. He’d suspected they’d been there for a while, but it wasn’t until now that he felt that maybe he should give them a chance.

“Dean, I love you.” Castiel’s eyes bore into Dean’s trying to gauge his reaction. He held onto Dean’s hands, feeling how they slackened at his words. “You...love me.” It was an astonished whisper, one that made Castiel smile. Dean frowned then, pulling his hands away from Castiel. “Then why did you say no?” This time it was Castiel’s turn to take a step towards Dean, hugging the man tight in his arms. He could feel how agitated Dean was, his posture stiff and unyielding even as Castiel rubbed a soothing hand down his back. Dean seemed to shrink into himself then, as if by making himself smaller he could lessen the inevitable pain of rejection. “I said no because it’s unrealistic, Dean. We only have these short moments in between lifetimes, there’s just no logical way for us to stay together.” Castiel’s words were matter-of-fact, not aimed to hurt but rather spell out the truth. Dean let out a harsh bark of laughter, trying to pull away from Castiel but stopping when the man’s arms held strong. “Then why would you tell me that you love me?” Dean’s voice was muffled in Castiel’s shoulder, where the man had pressed his face, trying to seek comfort even as Castiel hurt him. “Because Dean, I think-” Castiel paused, biting his lips nervously before pulling back enough to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean, although still terrified of the damage Castiel could inflict with his words, met Castiel’s gaze head on. He would face this, no matter the outcome. Even if it hurt. As if sensing the resolve in his eyes, Castiel carefully lifted up one of Dean’s hands with his own, exposing his wrist and pressing a warm kiss to his pulse point. Dean watched, mesmerized, as the human stared into his glowing eyes. Although Castiel was human and didn’t have the same eye glowing properties that Dean had, Castiel’s dark blue eyes were always so beautiful they seemed to shine with magic to him. Now, he could see the fierceness in them and the love. “I think you’re worth it Dean. I want to give this a try, I want to give us a try.” Castiel held tightly to Dean’s wrists, his body trembling with barely perceptible movements. The human was just as scared as the god. Dean wasn’t alone in this. That knowledge relaxed him and he smirked, teasing Castiel with his words. “What a bold human you are, propositioning Death like this.” “Dean.” It was an admonishment but Castiel’s voice was laced with relief and amusement. He softened at the grumpy face Castiel wore, stepping closer and kissing him with a hint of teeth. He moved on to the human’s throat, biting as he went, relishing in the moans it pulled out of Castiel.

When he finally pulled back, disappointed at the lack of marks on Castiel’s incorporeal form, his voice was solemn. “If we do this...if I have you, then you will be mine forever. Just as I’ll be yours.” “Is that-” Castiel paused, wetting his lips. “Is that a promise?” “Yes.” Dean pressed another kiss to Castiel’s lips, feeling an overwhelming joy bubbling within him at finally being able to be with the man he loved. “It’s a vow.” Steadily, Castiel felt the pull again, the call of his next life. He let out a whine of distress, resisting as long as he could. Eventually, he stepped away from Dean, panting at the strain. “I want to stay.” Castiel said, his eyes watering at both the pain and the helplessness he felt. They would be separated again for another lifetime and he couldn’t stand that. Not again, he couldn’t take another empty life without memories of Dean. “Please, I don’t want to forget you.” Dean pressed his lips into a thin line, his face full of regret. He may have asked Castiel to stay before, but they both knew it wouldn’t be possible. Not without his soul imploding and disappearing forever. “You can’t, Cas.” “I just-” Castiel cried out, falling to his knees, his form dissipating slowly into blue orbs of light. “I don’t want to forget you.” Castiel pleaded again, curling in on himself. Dean crouched down, plucking a poppy from the field. He tucked it behind Castiel’s ear before kissing his cheeks softly, his taste salty with tears. “But I can give you this.” Castiel blinked tear-wet eyes at him, the hope on his face battling with the pained grimace he wore. “What is this one for?” “This is for remembrance.” Before Castiel could reply, he faded away. Distantly, he felt Dean’s rough hands sliding through the blue blinking lights he’d become. With a few more languid flashes, he disappeared.

There once was a man who feared death. He feared it, like any normal human would, because it was unknown to him. Everyday he would get up for work and head out of the dreary, foggy city and walk to the office building next to his apartment. The freezing cold always reminded him of death, of how sudden or slow it could happen. Someone could freeze to death on these streets and no one would ever know. One day, he decided to take a different path than usual. He walked past a graveyard, previously unknown to him. He feared death because he didn’t understand it, but when he saw the poppy stalk peeking over the cemetery gates, he remembered. As if in a movie, the man experienced the shock of several lifetimes of memories dumped onto him. When it was over, the only word he could say was “Dean”. It was wild, breathless, and exquisite. He remembered him, he knew Death. And he would never forget him again. Over the years Castiel had many offers for long-term relationships or even sexual gratification but the man rejected all of them. None of them could fill the void in his heart, only Death would satisfy him. And wasn’t that a peculiar thought? Most people wouldn’t welcome death. In Castiel’s eyes, death was cold but it was also salvation and always cleansed him of his sins from past lives. Years later, when Death came for Castiel, the man welcomed him with open arms. It had been a long and tiring wait, but he was finally home.

“Cas.” Dean smiled, opening his arms as Castiel briskly walked over and hugged the man tightly. Dean wrapped his arms around him, practically cocooning him in his ceremonial robes. “Dean.” Castiel’s voice was rough, desperate, as he tried to press himself as close to the god as he could. “I’ve missed you.” Dean hugged him tighter, comforting Castiel by dragging a hand through his hair. “It was a long wait.” Dean pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Castiel’s nose, the man sighing and eyelashes fluttering gently shut as he basked in the love he felt from Dean. “I’m glad you’re here now.” As usual, Dean held onto Castiel’s hand and pulled him over so they could sit on the floor, leaning against the rock. Castiel snuggled in close with a head resting on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s arm around him, quietly immersing himself in the presence of the man he loved. “At first I was happy to remember you but…” Castiel thought back of all those days he lived, painstakingly going through the motions of life. Life no longer had any appeal to him, not when Death was all he wanted. Just remembering that empty life he lived made him wince. “It wasn’t fun, knowing what I was missing.” Dean tensed at that, carefully pulling Castiel’s head back with a hand and tilting his head up, staring into his pained blue eyes with concern. “The blessing I gave you was permanent, meant to last through all your lifetimes. But…” Dean hesitated, searching Castiel’s eyes as he spoke. “if it’s too much I can take it away.” “No!” Castiel immediately protested, holding onto Dean’s wrist and pulling the man until he was nestled in a fierce hug. Dean’s hair tickled his nose, as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his fists twisted into the back of Dean’s robes. “I would rather remember you than suffer a life without memories of us together.” Dean softened, pressing kisses and teasing bites onto Castiel’s exposed neck. “Maybe it’s selfish of me...but I’m glad.” Dean never claimed to be a kind god. He was someone who persisted and fought for what he wanted, and in the many years of his dull existence as Death, he’s never wanted someone as much as Castiel. They sat there, chatting and catching up, holding hands tightly and trying to spend as much time together as they could. Dean triumphantly spoke of the advancements of machinery, his excitement palpable as he gestured. He teased Castiel, saying that his early fascination in human transportation weren’t in vain, and that he “totally predicted this, Cas”. Castiel just rolled his eyes, fond and happy to just bask in Dean’s presence. It wasn’t until he felt the pull of life that he stood up abruptly, smile dropping. “I have to…” Castiel stumbled, his feet moving forward jerkily. Dean’s gaze was subdued as he stood up as well. They stared at each other for a long moment, just drinking in the person they loved. Dean’s eyes glowed a beautiful green, and Castiel feverently wished he could stay by this man’s side for all eternity. “Is it time?” “Yes. I don’t-” Castiel bared his teeth and let out a frustrated snarl. Hugging himself tightly, nails digging into his arms, he hung his head low. “I don’t want to leave you again.” “You won’t be. You’ll keep me in your memories.” Dean sighed, the sound full of sadness. “I can’t step foot into the human realm. It’ll shift the balance of the universe.” Castiel didn’t speak, eyes glazed as he slowly started drifting into nothingness. “I’ll be here when you come back to me.” With that, Castiel burst into a startingly bright mass of orbs, the color of his soul bright and pulsing. They swirled for a bit, reluctant to leave, before the pull was too much and they flew to their next lives. Dean stood, alone in the field of poppies as he stared into the sky. He let out a slow breath, closing his eyes against the longing he could already feel. Tipping his head back, basking in the subtle glow of the moon, he breathed out. “Until we meet again.”

There once was a man who feared Death. It was a stubborn fear, one borne of increasing restlessness and the aching in his heart. The poppy was always the trigger, and a part of him both dreaded and anticipated the flood of memories. He lived most of his life unaware of the weight of his love, oblivious and blissfully human. Then, when his memories returned, he always felt lost. He wasn’t sure if this was how love was supposed to make him feel. Love was a happy feeling, one of joy, yet all he felt was pain. Pain at being separated from Death, pain at knowing he would have to live years alone. He feared the power Death held over his heart. It was maybe irrational, but it was the only way he could stay sane. He’s feared death for so long, that even when he loved Death, he hated him. It was a bizarre oxymoron and a part of Castiel struggled with these feelings. It was too much, too intense. He loved him so much and slowly, he could feel it consuming him. There were some days he felt hollowed out, as if the only thing in his mind and soul was Death. That was why, when he crossed the street and he saw the car rushing towards him, it wasn’t much of a surprise that all he did was stand there and close his eyes. Just like that, it was over. And he had nothing to fear anymore.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out, stepping forward to embrace the man but stopping almost immediately. He tilted his head in confusion, the happy reunion pushed to the back of his mind as he traced his eyes over Dean’s body. “What is that?” Dean looked down at himself, grinning and doing a slow spin around to show Castiel his new clothes. “I thought I should get with the times, as kids say these days. Besides, these clothes are way comfier than those stupid robes I had before.” Castiel squinted, walking closer and tugging at the plaid long sleeve Dean wore and shamelessly groping his ass in those jeans. “Hm, you look like a lumberjack.” Dean rolled his eyes, grinning as he kissed Castiel lightly. “You still love me.” “Unfortunately.” Castiel replied with fake distaste in his voice, though his smile and the crinkles around his eyes told a different story. Dean let out a hearty laugh, hugging Castiel tightly before pulling them to their customary spot. “So tell me what you’ve been up to.” “Well, this time I was a scientist and…” When it was time for Castiel to leave, he felt a little more settled. Seeing Dean had helped suppress his manic desperation to see the man, but he felt it clawing at his throat and he knew, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist it.

There once was a man who loved Death. He loved him so much. He met with him after every ended life, the smiles hiding his pain and the slow unraveling in his mind as the insanity sunk in. He remembered everything. He remembered how the first time he let the car take him and the next, he was holding a shard of glass. The man had been in the restroom, having a near panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. It wasn’t fair. The man yelled out, this mental breakdown many lifetimes in the making. Other people could have the person they loved but he couldn’t be with Death no matter how hard he tried. It was with a swirling vortex of negative emotions that he destroyed his mirror, smashing his fist into it. There was red. The man noted distantly, his gasps settling as he focused on the blood. It reminded him so much of Dean, of those beloved poppies of his. He wanted to see more. Grabbing a shard of glass, he carefully and almost mechanically cut into his arm, gasping in delight when the pain hit him. It was then, holding the bloodied shard of glass in his hands, staring into the shattered mirror that reflected his fractured self, that he realized he hadn’t been trying hard enough. Of course! Why didn’t he think of it? There was only one way to reunite with Death. And that was to die. With that last thought in mind, Castiel pressed the shard of glass to his neck, and closed his eyes.

“Dean,” Castiel grinned, the phantom feeling of blood in his teeth still plaguing him. “Dean.” Castiel reached out, almost stumbling into his arms as the god quickly jumped down from the rock and caught him. “Woah Cas,” Dean sounded concerned, his face dark as he looked over him. “Are you alright? You’re not supposed to be here yet.” Castiel could sense his confusion, his worry, and it made him warm again. He’d felt so cold for so long, it was comforting being in Death’s embrace. “I’m fine Dean, just a freak accident.” Dean paused, and Castiel could feel the man weighing his words, eventually Dean seemed to accept them at face value and relaxed. Dean still seemed slightly suspicious, but Castiel smiled at him and it loosened the frown Dean was wearing. He knew the only reason Dean wasn’t interrogating him was because he had missed him too. They had so little time together that wasting it on arguing was counterintuitive. “Okay. But be more careful next time. I don’t want you hurt.” “Of course.” Castiel lied, his sigh audibly blissed out as he sat with Dean. Closing his eyes, he thought to himself that as long as he could be with Dean like this, he would pay any price. His neck still felt slightly warm, the imagined imprint of his hot lifeblood spilling out still haunting him. He was content to listen to Dean ramble about the wayward souls he’d met over the years, and when it was time for him to leave, he left more willingly. After all, it wouldn’t be long before he could see Dean again.

There once was a man who loved Death. There were many ways he tried to meet with him. Blades, they were sharp but the man wasn’t too fond of slicing his own skin. He’d tried bullets, those were quick but the lingering taste of gunmetal when he went to meet Dean wasn’t very fun. Acid was just slow and painful. Drowning made him feel wet while he was talking with Dean, and Death had definitely noticed his uncomfortable shifting. He couldn’t let Dean find out, anything too suspicious would have to be ruled out. Finally, after many lifetimes, he decided that pills were the best option. Usually he fell into a dreamless sleep and when he woke up Death was there to meet him. It was a win-win situation and he felt proud that he’d found this solution. Still, the more often he visited, and the quicker he found his way to Death, he could feel Dean slowly closing up. These days, Death sat in pensive silence with him, his grip tight on Castiel’s body but his eyes distant and worried. Castiel was scared that maybe Dean was getting tired of him but the man had reassured him with kisses. Castiel could feel himself shaking in fear, he can’t lose Dean. He just can’t. It would destroy him. Dean hugged him tighter these days, trying to soothe him in his own way. He liked to talk about the future, of maybe making a house here in the field so that they’d have a home of their own whenever they were together. It made Castiel happy, knowing that Dean was as invested in their relationship as he was. They loved each other and that was all Castiel needed.

“What would you like our house to look like?” Dean commented idly as they laid in the poppies next to each other, staring up into the starry sky. Dean had his head resting on Castiel’s shoulder, the man humming as he stroked his hand over Dean’s arm. The touch was light and he knew Dean liked being pet like this. He shuddered at the sensation and snuggled closer to Castiel, if that was even possible. Dean was almost laying on top of the human. “Hm?” Castiel finally responded, distracted by the way the moon seemed to periodically pulse with light. The scent of poppies was in the air, and he took a deep breath, enjoying the way the smell reminded him of Dean. “I believe something small would be satisfactory. Just enough space for the two of us.” “Mm.” Dean mumbled, sighing as he gave up any pretense of stargazing and instead bit at Castiel’s chest. He always seemed to be very determined to leave possessive marks all over Castiel, even though it was literally impossible since Castiel’s current “physical” form was incorporeal. The only reason Dean could even touch what was basically the embodiment of his soul was because he was Death. Souls were his domain. “I want to cook for you. I’ve always envied humans and their burgers. I think it’d be nice to try it.” Castiel let out a chuckle of amusement, the deep rumble of his voice resonating where Dean rested his head. “I wasn’t aware you could consume food.” Dean shrugged, his movement hindered by Castiel’s hold on him. “There’s a first time for everything.” Dean rolled himself until he was pinning Castiel under him, his grin wide and playful, though his eyes were dark with want. “And I want to experience all the firsts with you.” Castiel smiled, slowly raising a hand up to brush the back of his hand over Dean’s cheek. His hair was messed up from all the rolling around they’d done in the poppies, play fighting and shoving at each other before tiring themselves out. Dean was almost ethereal in the moonlight, the shadows cast over his face highlighted his features. Castiel pulled him down with a hand to the back of his neck, devouring his mouth. He relished the moans that Dean let out, panting into the kiss. When he finally separated them, nestling Dean’s face into his neck, he grinned. “I look forward to it.”

There once was a man who loved Death. He was almost thirty when he saw his first poppies, a fleeting glimpse at a flower shop he’d been driving past. When he remembered him, those freckles that seemed so prominent under the light of the moon, the way his grin felt pressed against his neck, the man ran to the pharmacy. He bought the pills he wanted, even through his increasingly short lifetimes, he preferred a specific brand of sleeping pills that worked the best. Back home, he didn’t hesitate. Washing his face in the bathroom sink, he looked at the image reflected in his mirror, at his sunken cheeks and the bags under his eyes. This life hadn’t been kind to him. He would be glad when it was over. Opening the bottle he quickly swallowed as many as he could. Staggering back to his bed, he collapsed onto it. He smiled and waited for the medication to pull him into a dreamless slumber and into the arms of Death. Except, this time, as he felt death taking over him, he swore he saw Dean’s horrified face in his mind. In the fuzzy stages between death and dreams, he saw the way Dean cried out, his name shaky on his lips. “Castiel, why?” Then, he let Death take him.

Castiel woke up sluggishly, the side effects of the way he died. It took him a minute but eventually he pushed himself up. He blinked a few times, frowning as the tickle of a recent memory screamed for his attention. He could’ve sworn he saw Dean’s face in his dreams when he took the pills. That didn’t make sense though, Death wasn’t supposed to be able to have access to the mortal realm. Shrugging it off as a rather intense hallucination brought on by the pills, he eagerly stood up and walked aimlessly around Limbo. Usually within the first few seconds, the forest would appear to him, but as he walked nothing happened. Castiel stopped in his tracks, confused. He looked around and saw nothing but foggy white as far as the eye could see. Heart suddenly leaping into overdrive he ran, his feet light as they floated over the floor. “Dean!” Castiel called out, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Dean! Where are you? I’m here!” He called out over and over until he saw the man standing with his back turned, a few feet away. “Dean.” This time, his name was said with relief and Castiel approached Death, arms already held up for a hug. “You scared me, I couldn’t find the forest-” Finally, Dean turned around, his expression flinty and heartbreak in his gaze. “You couldn’t find it because I didn’t want you to.” Castiel froze, slowly lowering his arms as he took in Dean’s tense stance. “I-I don’t understand.” “No, Castiel.” Dean pressed his eyes together tightly, letting out a humorless laugh as he ran a tired hand down his face. He didn’t meet Castiel’s gaze. “You know full well why I’m doing this.” With dawning horror, Castiel took a step back, his eyes darting around nervously. He could feel the imagined cold sweat building up on his back, his body rigid and broadcasting his anxiety. “You saw me.” It was a whisper and though Castiel felt guilty, he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done. “Yes. I-” Dean stopped, tears gathering in his eyes as he made an aborted movement to touch Castiel. He stopped himself though, as if he couldn’t bear to touch the man. “Why would you do that to yourself?” Castiel let out a harsh laugh, stepping closer to Dean even as the man retreated. “I didn’t do that for myself Dean. I did it for us! I did it so that we could be together.” Even as Castiel spoke he knew that he wasn’t telling the full truth. He knew his actions had been selfish and it had been entirely self serving motivations that made him choose this path. “I didn’t ask you to do that for me Cas!” Dean raised his voice, the first time he’s done so since Castiel met him. It was beginning to dawn on him just how much this was affecting Dean. He had always appeared gruff and teasing at times, but Castiel has never seen him so hurt, and it was all because of his actions. “I didn’t have a choice.” Castiel grit out, eyes glaring and fists clenched. He was hurting. They were both hurting but there was no turning back. “No, you had a choice Cas.” Dean paused, wiping his tears away with rough hands. “You just made the wrong one.” Before Castiel could speak, Dean turned his palm up and slowly, a poppy materialized. It looked so innocent, that flower, but Castiel felt a growing sense of dread within him. “What are you doing?” Castiel stepped back, his fear of Death returning. Dean’s expression was determined, though he was holding back his own pain. “What I need to do.” “Dean, what is that?” Castiel kept stepping back, hands raised up as if trying to defend himself from what was to come. “Please, I promise I’ll stop hurting myself. I won’t do it again.” Dean shook his head, not willing to believe Castiel’s words. “We both know that’s not true. You won’t stop because you believe it is right. You don’t think that what you’re doing is wrong. But it is Cas, you’re hurting yourself and I’m not worth that.” “You’re worth everything,” Castiel insisted, frantic in his need for Dean to see that he would behave himself. There was a part of him that knew Dean was right, that he was never going to stop, not if it meant seeing Dean and without the horrendous wait. “I’m not, Cas. I realize now that our relationship would never have worked.” Dean let a grimace cross his face, the sorrow in his gaze clear. “It’s destroying you Cas, and I can’t let that happen.” “Dean please.” Castiel begged, stopping his retreat because he knew it would be futile. His breathing was speeding up, the panic consuming him. “Please don’t make me forget you.” Dean stopped, tilting his head as a brief look of pity crossed his face. “Oh Cas, that’s not what this is for.” Dean let a self-deprecating smile mar his face, the stretch of it brittle with self hatred. “I’m too selfish for that. I don’t want you to ever forget me and I know-” Dean stopped then, choking up as he clenched the poppy stalk tightly in his hand. He knew that letting Castiel keep the memories of them was cruel, but he couldn’t help it. He’s always been a selfish god. “I know I should just let you go, free you from the memories of us, but I can’t. I want you to at least keep me in your heart.” Now, Castiel was truly terrified, he felt like he was slipping, like Dean was going to leave him forever. There was a certain finality in Dean’s words, as if they’d never meet again. That was absurd, Castiel tried to calm himself. After all, Dean was Death, as long as Castiel died, he would always see Dean. Dean approached him and Castiel tried to run away, tried to resist, but he was held by Dean’s powers. He whimpered when Dean caressed his cheek gently, hating the fact that he leaned into the touch, seeking comfort from the one who was going to hurt him. When Dean slowly slipped the poppy behind his ear, fingers brushing his hair in a loving gesture, Castiel spoke. “What is this one for?” Castiel whispered, terrified of the answer. Dean closed his eyes tightly, the lines of his face taut with heartbreak and pain. It was as Castiel darted his eyes across Dean’s features, ages older from the weight of his love, trying to commit it to memory, that he truly realized Dean was a god. He was Death. It was foolish of Castiel to believe he could ever be with someone this powerful. “This-” Dean finally met Castiel’s eyes, the usual bright green glow dulled to nothingness. His tongue darted out to wet his lips in a nervous gesture as he held Castiel’s cheek in one hand. “This one is for eternal life.” “No.” Castiel breathed out, his breath hitching on a gasp of air as tears fell from his eyes. “No!” Castiel screamed, straining against the invisible hold on him as Dean held him steady with sorrowful eyes. “You can’t do this to me! Please, Dean. I love you.” Castiel sobbed, the sounds wrenched out of him and his chest heaving. Eventually he looked up, eyes meeting Dean’s, both of them trying to commit the other to memory. It was with a hoarse whisper, broken and defeated that he asked the question. “How am I supposed to live without you?” Dean’s haunted gaze brimmed with renewed tears as he pressed a shaky kiss to Castiel’s lips, the taste of them salty from the tears of their shared grief. “That’s the point Castiel. Without me, you’ll live.” With those last words, Dean faded away, Castiel screaming frantically for Dean to come back, to spare him, to love him. Screaming and crying, he fell to his knees as the hold that Death had on him disappeared with Dean, the weight of his heartbreak too much to bear. The only word he could repeat was “No.” the cadence of it frantic and disbelieving. Eventually, his tears ran out, and he knelt there, head bowed and motionless as he waited for the pull of his next life to make him feel alive again.

There once was a man who loved Death.

When Castiel first saw the poppies on a painting he passed by, the wave of memories brought him to his knees. The first thing he did was run home and grab the knife on his kitchen counter. He had to try. When he pressed the blade to his own skin, it sliced deep. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, grinning at the sight of blood. Then, before his horrified eyes, the wound knitted itself together and healed. He didn’t remember much of what he did after that. All he knew was that his apartment looked like a murder scene and he was covered in his own blood but still alive through it all. He cleaned himself up and resolved to try again. The next day, he kills himself again. Death doesn’t come. He tries, again and again, sobbing into his bloodied skin as he cried out. “You promised Dean! You promised me that I was yours forever.” It was then that he understood the true price of immortality, the forever that most humans sought was his but at the cost of losing his heart and the only one he loved. He took the pills, praying to a god he didn’t believe in for it to work. The next day- The next day… Castiel lived.

There were legends, fables of Death and his lover. It was a story of the mutual love between Death and a mortal, a love so deep that it lasted many lifetimes. People would whisper, voices hushed and reverent even as they told this tragic tale. “There once was a man whom Death loved. This is a story of how Death's love for a mortal gave him immortality but in doing so they would never be able to truly meet. This is the legend of the first Immortal, and the last.” fin

#spnangstbingo #spnangstbingo2018 #profoundnet #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #death!dean #square filled: brothers grimm au #lunastories #lunawrites #writing #lunawriting

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floralseokjin · 7 years

Text

— off limits | 05 (m)

you've been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can't ignore the sexual tension that's simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | smut, angst words | 9,221

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08 ✓

The days continued to blur into each other, stretching into weeks of quick hook ups and late-night sexting. You and Seokjin used every chance you could to see each other but that was a task proved difficult most of the time. That’s why your cell turned into your best friend. Seokjin was just at the other end, a quick message away. Amidst the risky texts you sent each other in the dead of night, horny and annoyed that you couldn’t have each other for real, you also grew closer. That “date night” had proven beneficial in getting to know each other and it felt weird now, when you realised you and Seokjin were maybe as close as him and your brother. Okay, maybe not that close, but you knew him well enough, you liked to think. You got on extremely well, which surprised you still. Who would have thought your older brother’s cocky friend would turn out to be the compatible dork you couldn’t stop thinking about…? It was dangerous, but staying away from him wasn’t an option anymore. It was addictive and you’d both hit the point of no return. So they only other option was to keep sneaking around and to keep lying…

Sneaking around wasn’t too hard; going over Jin’s apartment when Yoongi was out, maybe stealing sly kisses and gropes while at a party (sometimes more, but you knew that was dangerous…). You’d even gone as far to hooking up in his car somewhere quiet. You had to jump at these opportunities, but sometimes your schedules didn’t match up and your only way of communicating was through your phones… Looking back, you knew you should have kept a closer grasp of it; there were texts and images saved on your device, the same said for Seokjin’s…

You most definitely shouldn’t have let Sunmi scroll through Facebook trying to find the posts to show you what Brian did on the weekend. You just forgot yourself, both on your bed as she grew tired of watching you study. Even the chime of bells, signalling you had received a message—two in a row, didn’t make you realise. You had your head in a book, trying to make last minute notes before tomorrow. You were distracted and that proved disastrous.

It was Sunmi’s gasp of “Oh, my god!” that stirred your curiosity, wondering what had happened to cause such a reaction. Had she seen something else on Brian’s page? That’s what she got for being nosey! As you looked up, you had about enough time to see her expression, mouth agape as she eyed your screen before she was screaming dramatically, throwing your cell on the bed. It landed face up and your eyes travelled to it, just as your stomach dropped. Dread and disbelief filling you, the colour draining from your face. On the screen was a dick. Seokjin’s dick.

“Shit,” you hissed, scurrying to grab the device and shield it against your chest.

You were clammy, cold sweat sticking to the back of your neck, your heart pounding inside your chest. Maybe there was a chance she didn’t know it was him. Maybe she hadn’t seen his name…but one look at your best friend’s face and you knew, she knew! Her eyes were narrowed in accusation, shock still muddled on her features as she tried to make sense or whatever was happening.

“Did he mean to send you that?” She asked slowly, trying to find a plausible answer.

Sadly, there wasn’t one. It was exactly what it looked like. A dick pic from Jin at just gone midday on a Sunday. He must have been very bored…and very stupid. Although, you guessed you were the stupid one for giving Sunmi your phone.

“Oh my god,” she uttered, realising by the look on your face that in fact, yes, he did mean to send you a picture of his dick in all its glory. “How did this happen?!”

You stumbled, not sure of what to say. You couldn’t believe this was happening… Swallowing once, you took a deep breath, changing tactics and turning it on her. “Why did you open my text?!”

“It was a reflex,” she gasped. “I wasn’t expecting your brother’s best friend’s dick on the screen, was I?!”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“So, what?” She prodded, curiosity in her tone. “You guys are hooking up?”

You sighed loudly, realising that you’d have to explain to her. You couldn’t get out of this, so you lifted your head, a meek, “something like that,” falling from your mouth.

“Why? When? How?” She questioned immediately, desperate for every detail.

“It just sort of happened,” you shrugged. In all fairness, you were telling the truth…

“But how? Were you guys drunk or something?” Sunmi pressed on, sounding confused with the jump.

“It happened in my kitchen…the first time…” You were mumbling now.

“Kitchen?!” She burst, looking floored. “With your mom and brother home?” She asked and all you could do was nod, not wanting to get into details, so it was just easier to agree. “You hoe!” She teased, a jubilant grin on her face. She was loving this.

“Sunmi,” you scolded. Kyuho may not be home right now, but your mother was only downstairs. “Shush.”

She apologised silently, looking at your bedroom door before dropping her voice to normal volume. “Wait, you said the first time… How many times have there been?”

“A lot,” you nodded your head, great emphasis.

Dare you say you were loosening up now. It actually felt good that someone else knew, like a weight of your chest.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “This is something else…does anybody else know?”

“No, it’s a secret,” you shook your head, already knowing it was safe with her.

“I’m highly offended that you didn’t tell me, your best friend who would die for you a million times over, sacrifice herself if it meant you lived—

“Quit being dramatic,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes at her display.

“Hm,” she hummed, shooting you a pointed look. “As long as Sujee doesn’t know.”

“She doesn’t,” you chuckled, wondering how you had become friends with two people who disliked each other so much.

“Good” she nodded tartly. “So…one question…”

Your ears pricked up again, curiosity colouring her tone once again. “How the fuck does his dick fit up your vag—

“SUNMI,” you exclaimed loudly, not believing what was coming out of her mouth.

“What,” she deadpanned. “It looks humongous! Horse dick or something!”

She went to reach for your phone that was still clutched to your chest, but you pulled it back. “Quit it,” you chided.

Your own interest peaked, wanting to know what the message entailed and you unlocked the screen, Jin’s dick making your eyes pop out of your head as it filled the screen. You scrolled up a little, letting yourself read his messages.

12:25pm [Seokjin]

— I miss you — my dick misses u more…

You instantly rolled your eyes, locking your cell again and leaving him on read for even longer now. Whatever. He was a big boy, he’d be fine. He had hands last time you checked.

“He knows how to get a good angle, that’s all,” you retorted, looking back up at her.

“I bet he does…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frowned at her joke of a euphemism.

Sunmi shrugged. “All I’m saying is he must be amazing in the sack for you to keep going back—Well, who am I kidding? He’s drop dead gorgeous too!”

You dismissed her with a shake of your head, chuckling at her dramatics. She paused, an unnerving grin plastering across her face as she leant in and prodded your sides.

“Ooooh, he and my best friend are going to have such pretty babies!” She teased, a squeal leaving her.

“We’re fucking not getting married,” you shook her off, rolling your eyes once again.

“So, you sure it’s just fucking?” She asked, shooting a pointed look in your direction. “No hidden feelings, awkward predicaments?” You went to butt in, but she spoke over you. “I’m just saying, it must be something worth while if you’re sneaking around your brother’s back, banging in the kitchen—

“There’s just an attraction there, we couldn’t ignore it any longer,” you finally got in, unease looming over you for some reason as she skirted around a subject you knew you weren’t entirely comfortable discussing. “We have become friendly though, since, y’know…”

She raised her eyebrows, as if she was unsure you were telling the truth, checking every move your face made for signs of fibs. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt, okay?” She told you, crossing her arms. “Jin is a handsome guy, he could break hearts just by staring directly at his face—like being blinded when you look at the sun—”

You scoffed, wanting the subject to be changed but in a way that didn’t make her suspicious.

“I can imagine being that intimate with him messes with your head…”

It was her last line that made you feel nervous, because you knew deep down that’s what had began happening. Each time you had sex with Seokjin, something grew in your chest. Your heart felt warm, sometimes like it was on fire—especially when he smiled at you or hugged you. When he held you as you both slept, something that seemed way too intimate for two people hooking up. It was times like that you knew deep down you had fallen for him, hook, line and sinker. But here you were still, ignoring it. The feelings festering inside of you as you tried to keep them hidden.

“So come on then!” Sunmi exclaimed, physically nudging you out of your thoughts and you looked at her, confused by her sudden change in tone. “I want to know all the sordid details, each hook up in smut extreme detail, please,” she ordered. Her please doing nothing to soften it.

“What’s his orgasm face like? I bet it’s ugly—there has to be something wrong with him!”

Telling Seokjin that Sunmi knew was a scary task. You didn’t know why. Maybe a part of you thought maybe he’d end things straight away if your secret was violated. You didn’t know why you were so worried. So scared of him breaking things off. Deep down the realisation hit. It was because you knew it would never, never be you to end things. Or course, you’d done it the one time when you’d felt guilty sneaking behind your brother’s back. But now you were in too deep. If things were ever going to be over between he and you, it would be because it was Seokjin’s decision.

As luck would have it, he didn’t mind. He even took full responsibility for it. He was the one who sent you a picture of his dick in the middle of the day, after all. It wasn’t like you could have prevented Sunmi from seeing it, not really, unless you forbade her to go on your cell. Which would have been highly suspicious in the first place.

“Why do you look so worried?” He asked, his hand reaching to stroke your shoulder.

You had managed to get an hour or two away in his car after class one day. You couldn’t keep it in any longer, so you had to tell him.

“Did you think I’d be mad?” He continued.

You shrugged, but you both knew the answer was a yes. That, and you’d tell me it’s over, you’d thought too, but decided against saying that.

“Awh, come here!” He cooed, pulling you towards his body for a mismatched hug, awkward because of the hand brake between the two of you, his hands cupping your face as you gripped at his shirt with yours.

“If I’m going to be mad, it should be at myself for sending you dick pics in the middle of the day,” he reasoned with a small smile, and you chortled a little, bowing your head to burrow it into his neck, but he stopped you, resuming eye contact, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“And for making you keep secrets from your best friend…and brother—and mom…”

“Jin—” you began, but he stopped you, placing a kiss on your forehead, right between your eyebrows.

Your heart stopped then from the sheer sweetness of such a small action. Serious was not his style—or at least you had never seen it. It was nice to know that under all the joking and teasing behaviour, sometimes cocky too, there was another layer—another side to him. The realisation was great, but the swell in your chest grew hard to ignore. A bad omen.

“You have to keep the secrets too,” you reasoned, not wanting him to take all the blame. It was on the both of you.

He nodded slowly, one hand sliding some stray hairs behind your ear. “But I can’t stay away from you.”

Your heart stopped this time, his words making heat rush up to your face. He’d said such things before, but that was always when he was having sex with you. This time was different. You had never seen him be so honest. And your heart began to wonder, what if…

That was the first time you didn’t sleep with each other. Just opting to hang out and listen to music instead, laughing and joking before you had to go home.

That was the first time you really let yourself think, what if this could be something more…

Time carried on like that. Something small would happen that made you realise the fluttering in your heart wasn’t normal behaviour for a series of hook ups with Seokjin. You thought you had it under control, but lately it had become harder and harder to ignore. You found yourself filled with joy when you got to see him, even a rush of happiness shooting through your body when he messaged you. Whatever it was; a look, a touch, a smile, it made you stop breathing for a second. You were caught up in everything he brought to your life and tonight was no exception. Although granted, it wasn’t anything to do with him personally, more like something you overheard…

You were actually heading off to meet Seokjin, under the guise of staying over Sunmi’s. You were in the kitchen grabbing a snack when you overheard your brother and Yoongi in the living room. They were heading out tonight and he was staying over your house, Seokjin had taken the opportunity to forge work, sneaking you over instead. You were making your sandwich hurriedly, desperate to get out the house as soon as possible, because looking in Kyuho’s eyes was hard enough already. He and Yoongi weren’t exactly being quiet, so you were more or less forced to listen as you buttered the bread, even though half of your mind was occupied with thoughts of when Seokjin had first fucked you in this very kitchen. It seemed so long ago now, but in reality, just over a couple of months. So much had changed since then, it was almost comical.

“I think I’m in love.”

Yoongi’s dramatic confession from the living room pulled you out of your thoughts, the irony painfully apparent.

“Oh please, dude,” your brother sighed. “She’s let you fuck her once and now you’re in love?”

You grimaced at your brother’s tone. You didn’t know where he got off telling you all men around here were the same, as if he was some saint, when he was just as bad.

“It’s not even about that,” Yoongi insisted. “She’s just amazing.”

There was a slight awe to his tone and you couldn’t help but smile a little as you made your sandwich. It was instantly wiped off your face when your brother spoke again.

“You’re whipped. You waited all this time to sleep with her, I thought the novelty would wear off once you did…maybe it will take more goes.”

Wow. So respectful, Kyuho.

“Dude,” Yoongi shot, warning in his tone before he carried on. “You don’t even understand, she said I was great.”

You rolled your eyes. Men were so easily pleased. She was probably just saying that to be nice. You tried to block them out again, not wanting to hear about Yoongi’s antics in the bedroom, but they were so loud it was hard not to.

“She even let me cum inside of her.”

Your eyes widened at what you heard. Was it possible that boys were this open around each other? Kyuho’s next line made you realise that, yes—yes, they were.

“Beats that melon you microwaved last Christmas.”

You pulled a face, the words pulling up a mental image you’d rather not see considering you didn’t know the guy well. Honestly, what the fuck. Why were guys so weird?

“Besides, that was probably a bad idea…”

Kyuho was back, voices wavering in and out of volume as Yoongi questioned why.

“What was?”

They had turned the television on, voices blending into one another which was a sign to probably stop eavesdropping. Nothing ever good came from it, even if you weren’t doing it on purpose. You quickly cut the sandwich, shoving everything you’d pulled out back in the refrigerator.

“Coming inside of Eunji,” Kyuho carried on, “don’t you remember what Jin always preaches?”

Your ears pricked up at his name, taking back everything you’d previously thought. Eavesdropping was bad, but you couldn’t help it now. Your rules were out the window. You concentrated really hard to hear your brother, cursing them for flicking the tv on at the most vital moment. You didn’t give a fuck about what fruits Yoongi liked fucking at parties, you just wanted to know what Jin “always preached.”

“His number one rule is NOT to come inside anyone he’s fucking. It’s a trap. A woman’s vagina is like a snare—once you come inside, that’s it, you’re done for. Feelings emerge and then you’re fucked.”

Your heart stopped, arm stiff, unable to close the fridge door. You were frozen in the spot, your brother’s words flying around your head.

“Well fucking chain me up and throw away the key because I’m here for it. I’d be Eunji’s slave any day of the week,” Yoongi’s voice bellowed from the living room, but now you weren’t even listening, too busy piecing together every bit of information you had.

Your eyes glazed over the fridge, remembering how Seokjin had fucked you against it that first time and how he had come on your face as you kneeled on the floor. You remembered how he had been adamant to come anywhere but inside of you the first couple of times you’d had sex, despite you being on the pill.

You finally felt movement in your hand as you managed to drop your arm, refrigerator door closing slowly, clicking shut as you remembered the last detail to the puzzle. The first time you’d had sex in his bed. You’d asked him to come inside of you, desperate in the heat of the moment and you had felt him hesitate for the slightest of seconds before he had rolled you over and done just that—came inside of you. You remembered everything that came with it, the sensations, the emotions—that was when you had began questioning everything about your hook ups with him. Feelings. He had acted strangely as well that night, and if you were being honest, every time since had felt different—closer almost, very different to the first few times you had fucked…

So, Jin’s rule was was not to come inside anyone he was having sex with... You think he’d broken that a while ago…

Your feelings for him began to look not so stupid anymore…

❁❁❁❁

That night Seokjin came inside of you twice.

You didn’t say anything, mostly because you didn’t know how to bring up the subject. The rule he set for himself seemed childish and like something from a movie, added with the fact you had overheard it from your brother’s mouth of all places… No, you couldn’t tell him, let alone ask about what you’d heard. Instead, you just super analysed everything he did.

It was when he was kissing your neck, the soft hairs of his head tickling you chin as he pressed his body against yours, you decided to bring something up, if not just to lighten the mood, because each peck of his lips was sending you deeper and deeper into a tailspin… Crude or not, you were sure you could feel his seed inside you, a constant reminder of the feelings he may or may not share for you… The feelings you both may or may not share together…

“Did you know Yoongi fucked a melon?”

Seokjin paused instantly, lifting his head up to watch you quizzically, one eyebrow cocked as a bemused smirk spread on his face, wondering how you knew such a thing.

“Christmas last year,” he recalled, straightening his back and rolling off you to lay down. “Way to ruin the moment.”

You exhaled in relief, thankful that he’d stopped all the kissing. You didn’t think you had it in you for round three before you confessed everything…. Instead, you carried on, joking your forte in such a desperate hour.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever fucked?”

He tilted his head to look at you, shooting you a look that screamed ‘really’ and then he said, 100% serious, “you.”

You gasped, affronted by his reply, ready to shoot back a remark you hadn’t thought of yet, before he was chuckling, wrapping his arms around you and turning you over, chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

“Now, turn around so I can have something comfy to sleep against tonight!”

The action was small, but enough to make you belly do that flipping inside out thing it did every time Seokjin touched you. You hadn’t been in many serious relationships, so you wondered if this was what it felt like. Joking about, feeling comfortable with that special someone, feeling content when you were around them… It was hard to imagine doing this with someone other than Seokjin. You’d never felt like this, not even with your two past boyfriends. It was getting harder and harder to ignore these feelings and now with the newest revelation, you were wondering if there was any point in pushing them away anymore….

More days past and you had begun to psych yourself up. You couldn’t push this to the side any longer. It was either end this with Seokjin right now, or tell him how you were feeling. You couldn’t leave it as it was because it would end up getting worse. Your feelings were growing stronger for him as each day past. You didn’t even have to see him anymore for the swell in your chest to keep on flourishing.

You couldn’t know for sure if it was a stupid thing to do, but you had taken Kyuho’s words as a sign. It made sense, right? How long would you and Jin keep this up if it was just casual? It had already gone on long enough and it didn’t seem like it was going to end any time soon. You’d even convinced yourself that Kyuho would be okay with it if he realised how much Seokjin and you liked each other. It would be official and your brother couldn’t have a problem with that. You could tell him and everything would work out. Just imagining calling Seokjin your boyfriend made you feel giddy a little, the smile on your face wide.

You hadn’t told Sunmi about any of this, still biding your time as you tried to find the perfect moment to tell him. Instead, you spent your free time reading back old messages Jin had sent you, looking for signs that he was for sure 100% into this like you were, reading between the lines. Why else would he tell you he missed you, or that he couldn’t wait to see you…? Everything made sense…

These thoughts kept you up at night. You didn’t know when you and he would be alone together next, but you had told yourself, it would be the time. The opportunity to tell him how you felt for sure. In the meantime, you decided you needed to let your hair down and have some fun. The thought of not knowing was making you anxious and you needed to let lose for one night. Sujee had invited you to the new bar that had opened across town and you had jumped at the chance.

You were lying on your bed waiting to get ready when someone knocked the door. It couldn’t be your mom because she’d left for work moments before and your brother was already in work, due back in just over an hour… The door opened slowly, a head popping around the corner.

“Jin!” You exclaimed in surprise, sitting up on the edge of your bed.

“Surprise!” He sang, walking inside.

“What are you doing here?”

“Supposed to be meeting your brother when he comes home from work but I ‘accidentally’ got the times muddled up,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes. He was unbelievable. But there was your belly doing flips again, because he wanted to spend some time with you. You realised now would be a good time to talk, but for some reason you were too nervous. You hadn’t planned enough and you couldn’t do it off the top of your head.

“How did you get in?” You asked, picking at your comforter, trying to ease your nerves.

“Key under the flower pot,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to you. “You should probably be careful about that y’know, you don’t know what weirdos could come inside.”

“What, like you?” You retorted before giggling as he poked under your ribs, reflexes fast.

“Hey, that’s mean. I just wanted to hang out with you some.” He pouted.

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, before adding “…stalker…”

“WHAT,” he shouted dramatically, incredulous.

“Nothing, it’s just pretty creepy that you know when my mom’s in work, that’s all,” you shrugged, unable to hide the amused smirk on your face.

“Fine, I’ll just go then,” he retorted, making motions to get up.

“No,” you whined, quick to drag him back and go in for a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft like always, moulding perfectly against yours. You were losing yourself as he continued to peck at your mouth, nibbling the supple flesh of your bottom lip as you slid down the bed, laying down now as he hovered over you.

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling away to nuzzle your neck, inhaling loudly. “You smell nice.”

“I just had a shower that’s why,” you explained. “Sujee and I are going out tonight.”

“Oh?” He wondered, raising an eyebrow. “Where you off? Maybe me and Kyuho will go…”

“No can do,” you dismissed, sitting back up. “It’s a girl’s night.”

“Girls night always means there will be boys lurking around,” he grumbled, rolling off you to lean on his elbow and look at your comforter, the tiniest of pouts on his mouth.

“What, like you and my brother,” you quipped.

“No,” he frowned, shaking his head. “Like other guys trying to take you away from me.”

“Since when am I your property?” You questioned, trying to lace your tone with attitude, but deep down you were vibrating with joy. Little things like this just further fuelled your inklings. They made you want to confess right there and then.

Lying beside him on your bed right now was heaven. The little things in life you didn’t know you needed, but made you eternally happy. It could be like this permanently if you both wanted…

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insisted, pushing his hair away from his face, and you started giggling, pout more visible now. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you got out between chuckles. “It’s just cute you’re jealous.”

Your heart began to pound when he didn’t deny it, watching him sidle up to you and wrap his arm around your chest.

“Men are weak when it comes to the female species,” he muttered, nuzzling his cheek against your yours.

“Ew, shut up,” you cringed.

“What,” he balked, kissing your cheek now…further and further until he reached the side of your mouth.

“Nothi—

You were cut off by his mouth on yours again. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss this time, grazing the flesh with his teeth, desperate for you to part them and when you did, he slipped his tongue inside, breaths merging together, his hands entangling in your hair. You were drowning in bliss, wanting Seokjin to never leave your room or your side. Even as he pulled away to catch a moment, you dragged him back.

“Mm,” he hummed, pecking you back each time. “Mm, okay, so I think we have—” he spoke, holding his arm above his head to look at his watch, the other lowering dangerously close to the waistband of your leggings. “—enough time to…”

“You came here to get your dick wet? Charming,” you interrupted.

It wasn’t like you were that offended, but it would have been nice if you could’ve talked some more. You would need to be eased in if you wanted to have a serious talk with him and sex would just distract you. As well as how stupid and dangerous it would be to do so when your brother was back from work soon.

“I’m a giving man,” Seokjin reasoned. “I’ll be happy to just eat you out.”

“You know that always ends in sex,” you rolled your eyes, even though the tingling sensation was traveling between your legs at the thought. You were putty in his hands, already turned on from the slightest of words.

“Is that a bad thing?” He questioned, eyeing you pleadingly. “C’mon,” he urged, “don’t deprive a guy of his sexual fantasy!”

You scoffed a laugh. “What fantasy is that?”

He leaned into you more, voice breathy and thick, going straight to your core, but you bit down on your lip, trying your best to ignore it. “Fucking you in your room, hard and fast—we have to be quick and you have to be quiet in case we got caught.”

If he carried on like this you wouldn’t need much persuading, that was for sure. But then he spoke again and ruined it…

“Granted, it would probably be hotter if your mom and brother were downstairs or something, but I’ll settle for the role play.”

“You really are a freak, you know that,” you groaned. “What’s hot about us risking getting caught? Me being humiliated for the rest of my life and you being beaten to a pulp—so hot!” You exclaimed sarcastically.

“I am a freak,” he agreed almost instantly. “A twisted deviant that deserves to be punished.”

Wow. Okay. Dramatics now too? He was that horny? Silly question, because that’s when you felt him rub his erection against your hip. Secretly, it was kind of pleasing to have such a reaction on him, but you stayed tight lipped.

“I didn’t realise you were into being submissive now….”

“No!” He half-shouted. “I’m not, it’s just right now I’d do just about anything to get you to fuck me.”

“Wow, desperate much,” you judged.

But secretly you were about two seconds from giving in. You could never turn him down. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Sexually, and hopefully otherwise…

“Fine, how does this fantasy start?” You sighed.

Seokjin sat up immediately, his eyes bulging, mouth open in surprise. “Fuck, yeah?” He asked and you nodded, watching him fumble around as he tried to collect his thoughts. “O-okay, fuck—

“We have like half an hour, so hurry! Otherwise you’re stuck with a hand job!” You cut in.

If you were going to do this, it needed to be quick to eliminate any risks.

“On your knees,” he ordered finally, a clearer mind once again.

You went to climb up the bed, but he stopped you, “no, on the side so I can stand behind you.”

Your stomach was fizzing with pleasure already, core heavy with need as you crawled on all fours and faced the wall, feet hanging over the edge. You felt his presence stood behind you after a moment, not touching you at all, and you were desperate. Nimble fingers pried at the edges of your vest top, but he stopped you, hands cupping over yours.

“Clothes kept on because that’s really hot,” he said, running through his fantasy inside his head you guessed.

He let go of you and you took the chance to prop yourself up by the elbows, wiggling your ass a bit so he could fuck you sooner. It was always like this, as soon as you lost yourself to Seokjin, you didn’t care about the rest of the world. You didn’t think about the possible dangers this stupid situation could bring—you weren’t even thinking about everything you wanted to tell him… When it came down to it, sex with him turned you drunk. You couldn’t think straight, you just craved him inside of you. And you never wanted it to stop.

Fresh excitement danced in the pit of your abdomen when you felt his long fingers pry at the waistband of your leggings, pushing them slowly over the curve of your ass, revealing the soft, supple flesh to his eyes. You twitched when the pads of his fingers delicately brush against your folds, getting coated in your arousal. It still surprised you how pliant to his actions you still were. But you guessed that would always be so. The more he got to know your body, the better he was at making you go wild.

“Already wet, I see,” he noted, a bragging in his tone. “Fuck, so inviting—you really like testing me, huh?”

He was furiously whispering, slowly losing himself as you felt him move, crouching down, and you jumped in surprise when you felt him kiss quick, wet kisses down an ass cheek, growls of pleasure leaning the back of his throat as he made his way down to your core.

“Seokjin,” you whined a little, fidgeting under his touch.

“Just one taste,” he muttered against your skin and then his mouth was against your opening, tongue flickering against the moist flesh.

“Ah, fuck,” you moaned and he hummed against you, pulling away with a slap to your ass that had you yelping.

He gripped the flesh with one hand, holding you in place as you painfully tried to jut your hips into his, but he kept the distance, instead, using his other hand to rub at your folds once more. You sighed in relief then, making sure to hold your breath and steady yourself as you felt his fingers push at your entrance. You groaned when you felt him insert both his forefinger and middle finger, the stretch toe-curlingly good as he curled them inside you, pressing against your walls.

“Two straight away,” he hummed, impressed. “I’ve trained you well.”

You could only moan a response, gripping the sheets under you in a bid to exert some self control. Especially when he began pumping them deeply inside of you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, back trying to arch but he kept it bent, palm of his free hand now pressing down on your spine, gently yet firmly.

“Fuck, J-Jin,” you got out, trying your best to formulate words, teeth chattering. “K-keep going.”

You were rocking back into his hand now, positive if you hit him back with as much force you’d come soon, but it seemed like he had other ideas, and he slid out of you slowly, making sure to smear your arousal across your ass lewdly.

“Shush, baby girl,” he whispered. “You have to keep quiet otherwise we’ll be caught.”

You paused for moment, realising he was really into this ruse of getting caught and staying silent. Fresh waves of pleasure washed over you as you heard him undo his pants, pulling them down enough to reveal his dick. Your walls were clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you. You heard the rub of skin as he jerked himself off slightly and then you whimpered when he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance.

“Do you think you can take it?” He asked, pushing against you, his breathing laboured. “My cock stretching you out?”

You nodded madly, beyond desperate right now. You wanted him inside of you, stretching you out as far as you could go, even if it stung, you’d take it because it would Seokjin’s dick buried deep inside you.

“Yeah?” He whispered, groaning a little as he got too excited. “Shit, fuu-ckk,” he cursed as he pushed inside you slowly, drawing out his words as he felt you stretch around him, your walls contracting around his hard, hot flesh as your body tried to get used to him.

The burn traveled all around your pelvis, but it was worth it, because with that came the painful-pleasure as he rocked his hips slowly inside of you, warming you up and relaxing your muscles. You concentrated on the feel of the fabric of his pants against your ass, letting him steadily pick up the pace as he spread you further.

Soon enough you were moaning quietly, jutting your hips out to meet his as you begged him to go faster. He complied instantly, pumping into you hard and fast and griping your hips tightly. His breathing was loud, guttural moans leaving him each time he pushed deeply inside of you. You kept your head down, concentrating on the feeling of each stroke of his dick as it rubbed against your walls.

“Shit, I can’t believe I’m fucking you on your bed,” he managed to get out, disbelief in his voice. “Yo-you like it it?”

You nodded again, choked yeses falling from you, tears pricking at your eyes again. You lowered your back slightly, pressing down on your forearms, desperate for him to hit your g-spot directly, because the continuous teasing and brushing across it was too much. He got the message and pressed one of his knees on the bed, his chest directed at your body, pelvis flat against your ass, large hands palming at your back now, ruching up your vest. His motions seemed to slow down for a moment, your orgasm floating away, out of your touch.

“Seokjin,” you begged, your whole-body craving release. “Fuck me h-harder—I promise to keep quiet.”

He groaned and sped up, pistoning his hips into yours as he leant back, gaining more leverage, panting under his breath. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, looking up at the ceiling as you desperately tried to stay quiet. You had to admit, it was really hot to do it hard and fast, under pressure—forbidden one again.

“Fuck,” Seokjin hissed, clattering your hips into his, your body weightless to you as he continued pounding. “I can’t wait to cum inside of you,” he told you. “Tell me how much you you want i-it.”

Did you catch a slight begging in his tone? Or were you imagining things? Either way it was hot and you groaned, flinging your head back, hair like a mane down your back.

“I want it so bad,” you rasped. “Please, just cum inside me and fill me up.”

“No cleaning up afterwards, okay?” He continued. “When you go out tonight, I want everyone to be able to smell me on you—so they k-know—” he stopped to groan, snapping his hips into you so hard you gasped “—that you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes,” you panted, his words sending you into a tailspin.

Before you knew it, your hand was between your legs, rubbing your clit furiously. The urge to come was too much and you were so close. You pushed against each thrust of his, the slapping of flesh ringing in your ears, your head bent as you watched between your legs, concentrating on the sensation and each grunt that Seokjin made as he buried himself into your wet, tight mound, both your bodies trembling with pleasure. He was close too, you could tell by the stiffness of his actions, but he was eager to get you off first. That thought alone was enough to work.

“Oh God,” you cried, clit pulsing against your sticky fingers. “I’m c-coming—

“Me too,” Seokjin cut in, pressing himself deep inside you one last time as you burst, walls clamping down on his cock and milking him of everything he had as he shot his seed inside of you.

He held your hips tightly, letting his dick pulse inside you as he made sure his come was situated safely and as deep as he could get it. The feeling made your head dizzy, even more so than the orgasm that had just filled your body, and you gripped onto the bed sheets once more, trying to clear your mind.

“F-fuck, you always feel so good,” he groaned, finally slipping out of you.

The warmth left you and you couldn’t explain your sadness. You heard him zip his pants back up and then he helped you pull your leggings up, shaky fingers getting the job done slowly. Once complete he collapsed, back first on the bed next to you, hands running through his hair.

“Fuck,” he chuckled breathlessly.

The sound was beautiful and you turned on your side, propping your head up with your hand, breath still laboured as you smiled and watched him—he looked so beautiful too, enough to make your heart ache a little. You wondered if he thought the same about you? You shook your head, banishing the thoughts and opened your mouth instead.

“Better than you’re imagination?”

“Of course,” he grinned. “Fuck, my heart’s still going like crazy.”

You watched him grip his chest, taking in every ounce of him as your eyes ran over his body, and as you were distracted he leant up for a kiss, soft and deep, making your heart flutter. When he pulled away, smile still on his face, eyes dark and blown out, it really felt like he wanted to read your mind. You felt vulnerable and exposed. It was always like this after sex. You were weak, and this time you acted on it. It was now or never. So you asked the dreaded question, fingers tracing lightly down his chest as you kept your eyes on him.

“When do you think we should tell Kyuho?”

“What?” He balked, smile instantly falling off his face.

You turned cold, all courage leaving you at his stony reaction, but you willed yourself on.

“T-tell Kyuho—

“Never,” he cut you off, sitting up abruptly, your hand falling to the bed. He watched you with bemusement, laughing slightly. “Are you crazy?”

He thought this was a joke? Why would you joke about such a thing?

“We can’t keep this up forever,” you replied, deadly serious, sitting up too.

He eyed you as if he was missing something, waiting for the ending line of the joke you were so obviously telling him right now, but when he realised there wasn’t one, he sighed, expression turning serious. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from you before he spoke again.

“What would we tell him?—What would I tell him?—Sorry, bro, I’m just fucking your kid sister, you don’t mind do you?” He mocked, and his tone made you wince.

“Not quite like that,” you mumbled, feeling stupid.

“Then how?” He exclaimed, shaking his head as he dropped it in his hands. “There’s no perfect way to tell him I’m hooking up with you.”

“It doesn’t have to be just a hook up though.”

The words were out before you could think to keep them in. Your conscience having enough as you needed to confess. But something told you it was a bad idea now… Maybe you should have brought the subject up a bit differently…

Seokjin froze for a moment, but you couldn’t see his face, so you watched on nervous, waiting for his reply. He fidgeted, looking at his watch instead. “Maybe we should go downstairs and watch some tv for a bit, before Kyuho comes back.”

His voice was quiet, a tone you had never heard before and your heart dropped. Something told you this wasn’t going to end how you imagined. For one, his posture was closed off, defensive and for another, he was totally disregarding what you had just told him. Ignoring you and pushing you away. Maybe you’d had it all wrong…

“We don’t want to look suss,” he continued, standing up, back still to you.

“Seokjin,” you spoke, your own disbelief loud in your voice. “Did you just hear what I said?”

He froze again and for a split second you thought he was going to leave and go downstairs, but then he turned around to face you, his expression worn out. “I did.”

“Well,” you pressed on bravely, ignoring the quiver.

“Well, what?” He deadpanned, almost sounding angry. You were taken aback. “Look, Y/N,” he paused himself, as if he was wondering if he should just say what he wanted. He shook his head and continued.

“What we have is just sex, right? It can’t be anything more…”

He was speaking to you as if you were kid who had missed the point entirely.

“Why? Because of Kyuho? It won’t be that bad if we tell him how much we like each other.”

You could tell by the way he sighed and looked away from you, that you were wrong.

Maybe you had missed the point…

“No,” he shook his head. “Not just because of Kyuho, there’s a variety of things….like…like—

“Like?” You urged, angry now, but you knew deep down it was at yourself more than anything.

How stupid were you?

“I don’t know, okay?” He shot, sounding equally as mad. “Like, I don’t want it to happen.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and you had enough courage to look at him for a split second to see that he was just as surprised at himself. He shook his head again, tone turning softer—apologetic, as he edged closer to you, hands out as he pointed at himself.

“Look…this has nothing to do with you, it’s me. I don’t do serious, okay? I thought we both understood that? Hell—I thought you didn’t want serious either,” he explained, and you felt humiliation wash over you. “This was just a bit of fun, to get it out of our systems…?”

You couldn’t disagree with that. That was what it had started out as, but somewhere along the line you had fallen for him. You thought he’d fallen for you too… Or maybe you had just convinced yourself that… It hadn’t been true. You were fucking stupid, and now you looked like a fool. You didn’t reply, just continued to sit on your bed, Seokjin’s standing figure making you feel small and feeble.

He tried again.

“Look, I know sex can mess with a girl’s head more than a guy’s, but I really thought we were on the same page? I’m sorry—

“You’re a pig,” you spat, not believing your ears. He was really blaming this on you? Because you were female?

“T-That’s unfair,” he told you, shocked by your strong words.

“I’m not asking for you to marry me, Jin!” You shouted. “You’re just going to blame all this on my stupid female hormones?! You dick!”

You didn’t care if you sounded childish right now. You didn’t care if you looked stupid—you were stupid, so it didn’t matter. Stupid to think Seokjin wasn’t like the rest, but here you were…your heart heavy in your chest as you looked up at your mistake.

“Y/N—

“What about all the things you’ve said to me? I’m supposed to not read anything into them, right? Because you’re just saying them for the effect?” You continued, not wanting to hear whatever it is he had to say to you. He couldn’t make it better. He had turned you down already.

“I don’t know what things you’ve misunderstood.”

You scoffed loudly, too mad to burst into tears even though it felt like you would any moment now.

“Other guys trying to take me away from you,” you mocked in the most obnoxious voice you could pass of as his own.

There were other things too, many more examples. Numerous just minutes prior when he had been inside you. The thought now only made you nauseous. You felt like your skin was crawling, remembering you had let him touch you, say all that stupid shit to you, only to throw it back in your face.

He stayed silent as you threw the accusations his way, like a coward, so you continued, voice shrill as he shrunk further out your room. He was nearly at the door by now…

“Or is that just you thinking you have dibs because you’re fucking me?”

“It’s not like that at all,” he insisted, although his voice had fallen flat by now. He was defeated, because you were correct.

“I like you, Y/N—I really do, but—

“But not like that?” You finished for him, picking at your comforter again to distract you from the tears that wanted to fall.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised after a short pause.

You looked up to see him with his back to you and fresh anger surged through you.

“You can’t even look me in the eye,” you shot. “Coward!”

There was more silence before he spoke again, as if he was battling with himself for the right thing to say. In the end he chose the weak way out.

“I-I think I should just go…”

“Yeah,” you scoffed.

“I’m sorry for leading you on.”

There it was. More words to make you feel idiotic. It was all on you. You watched him open the door, pausing to look at you, his face sombre, but you didn’t feel sorry for him, you just stared straight through him.

“It’s probably best if we end this th-thing now…”

“Don’t worry, already forgotten,” you replied instantly, it taking everything you had to stay strong and keep you voice even.

His eyes widened, but he left it at that. He could probably see straight through you anyway. He knew it was façade, but he still left…

You heard him echo down the stairs and then the porch door opened and closed, signalling that you were alone. He hadn’t even bothered to wait for your brother. Oh well, that was his problem, not yours.

You didn’t even have the energy to distract yourself, staying at the same spot where Seokjin had fucked you not fifteen minutes before. You felt like you were in a dream. That couldn’t have actually happened, could it? You were so sure if you had spoken to him things would have worked out… You would have both told Kyuho and he would have been fine with it and everything would have been perfect… But you forgot one detail, you weren’t living in a Disney movie… You were an idiot, festering in your own humiliation as you replayed everything over in your mind.

How stupid were you to think that Seokjin liked you back? That the information you had pieced together over the weeks had been a figment of your overactive imagination… You had been so deluded you had even taken a lewd rule that he had when it came to sex with girls and turned into some sort of love confession. Reminding yourself of what you had overheard your brother say just made you feel even more dirty.

Why you? Why did he choose to mess with your head like that? Did he just give you what you wanted because it was easier to humour you? Did he find it funny? Had he even noticed you were falling for him? Imagining that he knew already and had just continued to use you because it was easy sex just made you feel sick. Was that all you were worth? Even today he had only come around early so he could get with you. There was no substance to your relationship. You were stupid to think there was…

However, maybe it was your fault… You had after all, agreed for this to be casual because you both enjoyed having sex with each other. But you should have known something wasn’t right when once wasn’t enough. That deal back in your kitchen all those weeks ago had been for just one night. But you couldn’t stay away, even when you had tried… He hadn’t been able to either. That’s where wires had been crossed. Each look, each kiss, each touch, you had seen something more, while he hadn’t. Everything he’d said to you had just been part of the excitement. He had only chased you for the adrenaline rush. The biggest turn on, the forbidden fruit—you. You weren’t supposed to read into it. But you had anyway.

And now you felt stupid.

You’d fallen for him while he didn’t want you. Not like how you wanted him anyway.

“Just make sure you don’t get hurt, okay?”

Sunmi’s words came back to bite you on the ass. It was too late now. You were hurt, and the worst thing about it was that you’d have to continue to see Seokjin around and pretend like nothing had happened. You had to live a lie and hide your emotions. Each time you would see him a bitter reminder of what had happened.

It was a while before you realised you were crying, thick, hot tears running down your cheeks as you sat there feeling pathetic. Just the thought of never being around Seokjin like you had been for the past couple of months made your heart throb painfully and you didn’t know how you were going to cope.

Your phone screen lit up, signalling you had a text. Your heart dropped when you saw it wasn’t who you wanted it to be. How pathetic. Instead, it was your mom, telling you there were leftovers in the fridge ready to be heated up before you went out tonight. You groaned, throwing your phone face down on the bed. You’d forgotten about that and now you were positive you didn’t want to leave the house tonight—or any other night for that matter.

If you were anyone else, you would have thought fuck him, and gone. Gotten drunk, had fun, maybe hooked up with a cute guy you’d see there, but that wasn’t you. At all. And not after today. It hurt you to imagine Seokjin would do exactly that, most probably. Kyuho watching him and jeering him along because he’d have no clue his best friend had just broken his sister’s heart…

Fresh tears fell at the thought.

#jin smut #bts smut #jin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:off limits

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fromtheringapron · 5 years

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WCW Halloween Havoc 1989

Date: October 28, 1989.

Location: Philadelphia Civic Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Attendance: 7,300.

Commentary: Jim Ross and Bob Caudle.

Results:

1. Tom Zenk defeated Mike Rotunda.

2. The Samoan SWAT Team (Fatu, Samu, and The Samoan Savage) (with Oliver Humperdink) defeated Steve Williams and The Midnight Express (Bobby Eaton & Stan Lane) (with Jim Cornette).

3. Tommy Rich defeated The Cuban Assassin.

4. NWA World Tag Team Championship: The Fabulous Freebirds (Jimmy Garvin & Michael Hayes) (champions) defeated The Dynamic Dudes (Shane Douglas & Johnny Ace) (with Jim Cornette).

5. Doom (Butch Reed & Ron Simmons) (with Woman) defeated The Steiner Brothers (Rick & Scott).

6. NWA United States Championship: Lex Luger (champion) defeated Brian Pillman.

7. The Road Warriors (Hawk & Animal) (with Paul Ellering) defeated The Skyscrapers (Sid Vicious & Dan Spivey) (with Teddy Long) via disqualification.

8. Thunderdome Cage Match: Sting and Ric Flair (with Ole Anderson) defeated Terry Funk and The Great Muta (with Gary Hart). Bruno Sammartino was the special guest referee.

My Review

Halloween Havoc was the one night of the year where WCW’s penchant for batshit gimmickry was free to roam and, as we all know, the results were pretty remarkable. However, the first iteration of the event is much more conservative than what it would become. It doesn’t have the awesome entrance set yet, not even the Party City gravestones. There’s also nothing like the Chamber of Horrors or the Monster Truck Sumo Match here. The only real inkling of Halloween we get is a paltry setup in the backstage interview area, which looks like the set of a middle school’s production of Sleepy Hollow. It’s a relatively modest show, especially for an event that’d see Abdullah the Butcher cooked in an electric chair just two years later.

Fortunately, we do get some Halloween hijinks in the form of the Thunderdome Cage match. Nothing about it makes sense so, needless to say, I love it. It’s a bit of a precursor to Hell in a Cell, except with cheap, tacked-on decorations and the inexplicable risk of electric shock. Seriously, what are the rules here, if any? It’s never made clear. If anything, its an excuse for Terry Funk to sell ever-loving shit out of it, which is as valid an excuse as any. We also get to see Sting and Ric Flair swing on a rope for reasons unbeknownst to me. The most hilarious part is that the referee is Bruno Sammartino, who famously left the WWF for this exact kind of bullshit. You have to wonder what he was thinking before he signed on to take part.

With such a wild main event, it’s too bad the rest of the card isn’t nearly as fun. Overlong matches are a reoccurring theme of the night. Do we really need to see a filler six-man tag match go on for over 18 minutes? Do we really need to see an aging Tommy Rich longer than 3 minutes? Do we need that, really? The bookers of this show apparently think so. A major part of WCW’s appeal in the late ‘80s was its ‘real sports” feel compared to the WWF, which had blossomed into a full-blown neon circus of death. For as much this approach would serve them well, it also just as often resulted in content I personally find a little too dry. You’re certainly welcome to disagree, but I do feel the show could use a bit more oomph to the proceedings.

Perhaps more striking than the card is the crowd in Philly. WCW crowds were smarkier than the WWF ones, and this show is a shining example. Perhaps the highlight of this is them completely taking the side of The Freedbirds in their match against the Dynamic Dudes (thought I can’t blame them; even in this era, the Dudes seems like total phonies). 15 years later and they would’ve been no different than a crowd in Toronto or Chicago, homes to other “backwards world” fans. The fans much more willing to accept anti-heroes, which would later parlay into them embracing the nWo.

WCW was still trying to shed its NWA skin at the time of Halloween Havoc 1989 and it shows. They’d be tossed from one creative direction to another for the next few years, from Jim Herd to Bill Watts to eventually landing in the hands of Eric Bischoff. But in the case of their annual October pay-per-view, it wouldn’t take them long after this first try to finally spike the Halloween party punch and just go wild with it.

My Random Notes

We’re unfortunately stuck with Bob Caudle on commentary for this broadcast. He feels such a part of the Mid-Atlantic era that he seems really out of place here. I will concede that he absolutely does seem like the old, out-of-touch Republican that likely populated WCW offices, especially at this time.

Okay, The Great Muta putting out a fire with his green mist is definitely the most badass thing I’ve seen in awhile.

Doom and Woman also look pretty badass. It always feels weird discussing Woman now, and it really shouldn’t, as it’s not fair to her that her life was taken from us so harshly. She carved out a nice little career for herself in the wrestling business and carried herself with the kind of presence that made it seem like she belonged there.

Love, love, love the animated Halloween intro. Even in the first iteration of this event, it’s good to see WCW already starting to get into the holiday spirit.

Really caught off-guard by JR mentioning the Blade Runners, and throwing shade at The Ultimate Warrior on top of that. Didn’t think the Sting/Warrior partnership was referenced until well into the ‘90s.

Cocky U.S. champion is definitely the best version of Lex Luger. I’ve always thought his match with Pillman here is pretty underrated, and it shows how Luger always should’ve been⏤an absolute prick who is nonetheless totally competent.

Poor Tommy Rich, eh? Dude just gets absolutely trashed on by the fans. They don’t fuck with him or his attempted comeback at all.

I can only imagine what it must’ve been like for the WCW creative team trying to think of a gimmick for Tom Zenk. You’d have to wonder if they spent several hours in a boardroom before finally throwing their arms up and saying, “Fuck it, we’ll just call him the Z-Man.”

#wcw halloween ric flair sting lex luger

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euphoric-melancholyy · 7 years

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On Sleepless Roads (3/3)

Summary: A S6 Canon divergence. There’s an irony, she supposes, that something created to pull one into eternal sleep, is now a barrier to any sleep. Her body fights against the maddening exhaustion. She’s just so tired, so fucking tired and she can’t keep going like this.

Ao3 FF.net Part 1 Part 2

It made sense, really. After Killian’s explanation that the Sandman is a character in her dream and therefore could only be defeated from within it. They were still struggling, though, with questions of how and why, especially because the sandman’s powers blurred the line between reality and hallucination.

(Especially because the information came from a page randomly appearing in a book.)

Someone was helping them, or relenting in their torture to give Emma a leg up for once. Although, there was always the creeping fear that the intel was false, an answer that leads them into a trap. Her gut says it isn’t, to trust that this is real, but--

“It’s a sleeping curse.” Regina chimes in. They’re all sitting around Emma’s living room - her parents and baby brother, Regina, Henry, Violet, and Killian. Emma’s never had her house as a meeting place to plan their operations before. Even throughout this, they met at Granny’s, or the library, the loft, or the station. It’s a weird feeling, having a home she can share like this. She thinks she wouldn’t mind it if she didn’t feel like she belonged in an episode of The Walking Dead, her brain fried and body slug from sleep deprivation and nightmares that leave her injured without physical proof. “Not like the one I cast. This one’s specific to the sandman. There’s different dream realms too.”

“So we find how to get to the sandman’s dream realm and what? Diplomatically ask him to stop torturing my daughter?” Charming asks.

“Not exactly. See, the realm is specific to Emma and what haunts her. The Sandman is powerful; he can play on the problems in your subconscious. Originally, this was used for good, to give people good dreams and hope. There’s only one other recorded case of a sandman, or sandwoman, using their powers for evil.” Regina pauses, making sure she has her audience’s full attention. “I think I figured out how to get to him though.”

“No.”

Killian frowns at his Swan’s protest. “Emma, love. Someone has to go.”

“No one is going through this, but me. I can fix it. I can defeat him.”

“No offense, Emma, but you’ve had your chance to fix it and you haven’t. You need our help. You can’t do this alone.” Regina says.

“And what happens if one of you gets hurt or killed in this dream realm? I can’t let you do this. You’re not under the curse. It could hurt you beyond what it does to me.” Poorly veiled panic rises in her voice, the caring words escaping harsh as the pieces of Regina’s plan click. Nightly, she’s suffered the pain of what it feels like to almost die, floating on a line so close she thought she had more than once. A line sewn with pain and adrenaline, regrets, and the overwhelming sensation of burning, sharp and aching in its pursuit to torment her. There were too many unknowns, anyway.

Her eyes find Killian’s, fierce determination masking their brooding anger, and she knows that he will be the one to go under. Unwelcome flashbacks of his demise reappear, the real version and that of her dream; she’s seen him in this realm before and she longs to never experience it again. True love’s kiss has yet to break the Sandman’s grip. What if it’s the same for him? If he doesn’t wake up, or suffers the same fate as she. . .No. This is supposed to be her job - she’s the savior. They can’t come running to her rescue because she’s too damn weak to do what she was made for. “No. Please, Killian.”

“Swan, you would do the same. Watching you suffer has been the hardest thing I’ve had to face. I’m going under the sleeping curse and you’re going to wake me. And do you know why you’re going to wake me?”

She smiles at him then, lashes fluttering up to meet the blue of his eyes, no longer hooded in anger, but shining with something lighter, happier. “Because we’re true love.”

“Aye. That we are. And true love is the most powerful magic of all.”

Regina pulls a strand of Emma’s hair without warning - earning the Queen a grumbled What the hell - that she laces through one of Mary Margaret’s sewing needles. “I need this to get Hook there. This and the sand that’s in your eyes when you wake up. When you fall asleep, Hook will gather the sand and tether it to this needle. Once he pricks himself with it, he should appear in your dream.”

So they wait. Emma lays her head on the cushion of the couch, face turned away from her expectant audience. They’re hovering, consuming oxygen and producing a sweltering heat. A week ago, she’d have been able to easily fall into sleep’s embrace, but now. . .

Now her heartbeat quickens, smothering her in doubts and fears, while they watch on.

She’s grateful when Snow notices. “Why don’t you go and try to sleep in your bed upstairs? It might be easier.”

“Yeah, good idea. Thanks mom.”

Killian follows her with soft steps and a gentle hand that guides her up to their bed. He pulls her shoes from her feet, working his way up to her sweater. “Relax, Swan. This will all be over soon.”

“I can’t relax.”

“Okay, don’t relax. Just...close your eyes.”

She complies, listening to the shuffle of denim and leather as it falls to the floor. She feels the mattress shift with the weight of his body, hand curling around her shoulders as he massages them. It feels nice, to be cherished like this. It grounds her, if only a little.

“The ocean is very treacherous being, “ Killian begins. Of course he’d tell her about his time at sea, the place that calms his soul and now hers. She smiles up at him, resting her head on his chest. He knows her, truly knows her in a way that no one has before. His voice is a lighthouse as if she were lost in the sea he speaks of. “testing your will and determination as it throws you against the wood,” he continues. “But not always. Oftentimes it’s calm, the colors of the sunset or sunrise reflecting off it’s waves. And beneath that there are fish, mermaids and creatures of the sea, treasures beyond a man’s greatest imagination. Can you picture it Swan?”

“I can.”

“You’re quite like her.”

“Hm?”

“The ocean, love. You’re equally fierce and beautiful, with the strength to take out fleets of sailors.”

“Shut up, Casanova.” She laughs through her words - the laugh that comes in bursts, radiant and unbidden, showcasing her dimples - before nuzzling closer.

(She didn’t know she was still capable of such a laugh, muscles feeling weak and dying for rest.)

There’s an irony, she supposes, that something created to pull one into eternal sleep, is now a barrier to any sleep. Her body fights against the maddening exhaustion. She’s just so tired, so fucking tired and she can’t keep going like this. She wants --

She wants it to be over. His hand feels nice, massaging the knots in her shoulder and down her back, nails lightly scratching at her hair.

It’s not instantaneous, her descent into slumber. Though the vibration of his voice against her skin calmed her anxious heart, settled her into a place of home, it wasn’t a magical cure. She tossed and turned, grunts of frustration that preceded reassurances and kisses to her head filling the space between them. But it did come, and once it did, a world opened up before her eyes.

-/-/-

He finds her in a castle, walls lined with sharp rock. It has grooves and crevices that form at points and claw marks ravaging every surface. There’s a panic sitting in the air; he can feel it stiffening his muscles and quickening his heart. It reminds him of Neverland - as if there’s another layer of magic laced within this curse. Different hues of blue and black wash the stone. The rooms are emptied of furniture and light, a giant abandoned maze that has his eyes searching for something, anything he can find. Her name escapes his lips, once, twice, three times, each echoing off the walls in dismayed return.

Minutes pass before he gets a response that is not his own. “Killian, get out of here! Run.” He can hear her as if she’s surrounding him at all sides, strained and exhausted; the epitome of the panicked ambiance that lies within this dream.

So he runs.

He runs and fights against the delusions of a sleeping mind. He runs and runs, feet pounding against the pavement never fast or quick enough as he winds through corners, each one feeling the same. The deja vu alone is enough to drive him insane. That is, until he sees her. She’s lying against a pillar, blood seeping from her arm.

“When I said run, I meant away from him,” she points to the beast that’s roaring back to life behind them. He had been so focused on her, he hadn’t noticed the cause of the pain - the dragon eyeing its newest victim. But Emma’s black sweater is torn, patches of yellow and purple skin replacing the fabric, dark enough to match the scales of the beast behind them. Her head bears the worst of what he can discern from his limited view, a small gash opening around a knot that’s already formed and blood slowly making its way to her lap.

“Emma.” Her name is a whisper, a prayer to whatever god can help them leave this hell. He had only seen the aftermath, the glassy fatigued eyes and agonized screams as she curled into herself. Not until now was he able to see the wounds of what she felt. Her reality of what was happening. This was the invisible pain that stole her sleep and tormented her psychologically, physically, emotionally, now in all its glory. He feels sick to his stomach, the knot that forms no less painful than a punch to the gut. But he pushes it down. He can deal with his guilt later. Now he has to help her, to rescue them both from these demented dreams. “I had no idea, Em.” Killian uses the curve of his hook to brush her matted hair behind her ear, making no effort to conceal the tears that slip down his cheek.

“You need to get out of here. Killian, please. Now. Get out--”

He ignores her protests, sweeping her crippled form into his arms. But it’s too late. And he watches as the dragon engulfs the castle in flames.

-/-/-

They land outside the gate of their house. To her surprise, she feels no fire, but the ache from her earlier battle remains.

“How?” Emma asks. She falters as she tries to stand, leaning against the fence for support.

“I don’t know, love.” Killian responds. His eyes go wide as he stands to meet her. The bruises from earlier have turned darker, with more appearing in the exposed areas of skin. She tries to magic it away, her blood tasting of metallic as it drips down her forehead, but she’s pretty sure her wrist is broken and body too weak to support her supernatural attempts at healing. Everything in her aches, mingling with the sharp pain of her open wounds. Feeling like hell is an understatement, but it’s the nausea overtaking her that’s winning her attention.

Killian reaches her in one long stride, standing at her front catch her should she fall. While he bears no physical injuries, his eyes are as pained at the sight as she feels. But there’s something else too, something she can’t quite place in the way he looks at her. (She thinks it might be a glimmer of hope, but for what, she’s not sure.) He pulls her into his chest and she relishes in his gentle touch. If magic can’t heal her, she’s pretty sure this could. In the distance, she can hear glass shatter. It’s muffled by his hug and maybe a concussion, so she ignores it and runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“This was too easy.” He says, stepping back to look into her eyes.

“What was too easy?”

“Your dream. This is your dream realm, love. We aren’t safe here.”

“Killian, that’s insane. This isn’t--”

Immediately, she knows it’s Henry’s scream that cuts her off. Suddenly, he appears on the porch with his neck strained and head lifted up as he is strangled by an unknown force. Emma starts to run to him, but Killian’s arm pulls her back. Delirious with confusion, she pushes him away, the force of it causing her to stumble back into him. It only enrages her further. She has a mind to sweep his leg Karate Kid style, knock him to the ground, but this is Killian. Her Killian. It doesn't make sense. He would help her. Help Henry. He loves Henry and it just doesn't add up --

“This must be it, this must be the test.” Killian says.

“Let me get my son!” She tries to free herself, throwing her beaten body forward with all her weight. “Henry!” she calls. It’s a tired, angry cry that coils with the panic in her stomach.

“Emma,” he takes her wrist and turns her toward him. Wild eyed desperation is what meets his eyes as she tries to understand. Why isn’t he helping? Henry needs them, needs her. Henry--

“This is a dream. Just like the ones you’ve been having.”

“No, no this is real. Henry - Henry’s--”

“Henry is back at home with your family. You’re sleeping. If this were real, I would be doing everything in my power to rescue your boy. Look at me, Swan.”

She listens, tearing her eyes away from the scene playing out in front of her, if only for a moment. While she’s felt her heart literally split in half, there is no pain that can compare to this. Like glass cutting into the arteries as it flattens under the pressure of a lifetime's worth of love and loss. There’s a part of her, as subtle as a ticking clock in a loud room, that’s something close to believing her teary eyed true love. Killian’s eyes plead with hers, desperation in the furrow of his brow. She wants to believe it and maybe, believing it is what will make it true. Henry told her that and it saved him the first time.

“Do you trust me?” Killian asks. In any other situation, she’d chastise his question, but this. . .

She nods, tears streaming down her face. “What do I do?”

“This is a dream, the only real thing in it is you and me. Fight against it, fight against the pain that’s the only way this is gonna end.”

She can’t see what’s choking him, only watch as he struggles to breathe and the lack of oxygen threatens to take his life. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real” she repeats over and over, hoping that each tear stained word becomes more convincing. Afraid that looking away will show she’s fallen into the trap of this false reality, she watches on. Killian’s rings leave marks against her fingers as she holds his hand in a death grip, his hooked arm around her middle. She can feel her chest constrict, heart shattering into a million pieces as each second passes. “This isn’t real, this isn't. . .” Her voice breaks on a sob as Henry’s body falls to the ground. It wasn't real.

And then her son disappears in a puff of smoke, black and cruel and screaming of death. In his place stands a man, tanned and mystical, with brown curls that reach his shoulders. He’s donning a hooded robe, intricate designs made of black and gold sand weaving their way through the fabric. With his appearance, Emma can feel the pain of her wounds evaporate, bruises vanish into the paleness of her skin and sticky, dried blood lift away as open wounds close. It’s instant relief and she sighs as the alleviation soothes her muscles. And though his presence brings a physical healing, she doesn’t dare trust it. She doesn’t dare let go of Killian until her foe speaks.

“Congratulations, Miss Swan. You broke my spell.”

“Go to hell.”

“I think we’d both agree this is worse than hell. At least for you. You are a brave one though.”

“Why did you do this to me?” There’s a desperation she lets escape from beneath the anger that’s boiling over. She needs to wake up, needs to see Henry alive and well and smiling. But she also needs answers.

“Me? I’m just a hired hand. You have no idea how lonely it can be when you’re cursed to the realm of dream until death. Sometimes I like to play games, it keeps me entertained.”

“Who hired you?”

“Well, I suppose the game is over.” Killian tenses behind her, jaw clenching as he balls his hand into a fist. He’s as ready, if not more, to kill the son of a bitch who has put them through this. She clasps her hand over the clenched fist, the small gesture not necessarily meaning stop, but rather wait.

“Spit it out, Sandy.” Emma says.

“Jafar.”

“What did--”

“Your loverboy here stole his true love. But that’s his story to tell, not mine. This has been fun, Emma. I must now bid you both goodbye.” The Sandman throws a handful of sand in her direction and before she can protest, she awakes.

-/-/-

She had almost forgotten what it felt like to awaken in a better reality - that dreams are simply dreams that haunt, pleasure, or bewilder you in the waking hours - and not a physical ache, not always. There’s an emotional tear though, still pressing on the corners of her heart, that has her running down the stairs in search of her son. She finds him at the kitchen table, along with the rest of her family, and wraps him in a hug. It wasn’t real.

“Woah, mom. Everything okay? What happened? Is the curse over?” She laughs at the bombardment of her son’s questions, ruffling his hair in response.

“Yeah, kid. It’s over.”

“Where’s Killian?” Henry asks. She can’t help the upward tilt of her lips at this being one of the first thing he notices, her heart warming at the thought.

“I haven’t woke him yet. I just needed to see you.”

Henry accepts her answer without a reply, instead squeezing her tighter. While it may have not been reality, she knows watching him die will not easily be forgotten. For now, this hug is enough, his voice deeper than it used to be reassuring her of his presence and his life. So she lets go and kisses his forehead before turning back to wake her other true love.

Since living together, Emma hasn’t gotten the chance to truly enjoy the nauseating couple-y things that her and Killian should be doing. Between dying and curses, Dark Ones and nightmares depriving them both of sleep (albeit in different ways), she hasn’t soaked in this happiness. But as she winds the corner to their bedroom and finds him sleeping, arm draped over the side of the bed, she can’t help but smile. He looks so peaceful, snuggled into a mountain of pillows and blankets. Her thumb traces his forehead, pushing stray hairs out of his face. Threats still loom, but with Killian by her side, she’s ready to start their happy beginning. She leans down and kisses him, prepared to battle whatever demons from his past have reemerged.

“Swan,” he whispers in awe, rainbow light sweeping over the house, making their hearts light and full. It’s a magic that leaves them in pure bliss with it’s power and light. She pulls him up to a sitting position, a soft smile to challenge his grimace.

“Smile, Captain. Most people do when their true love wakes them from a curse.” She punctuates her words with a light shove. He listens, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Emma turns her head, inspecting him, while her thumb traces his jaw. “It’s over, you know.”

“All of that pain, it was because of me. Of what I did. The man I was. . .”

“Killian, I don’t care. It wasn’t your fault, you can’t put that on yourself. But now we have the chance to right a wrong, to apologize for whatever happened.” She pauses, lacing her fingers with his. “ I need to know what you did but if you think I didn’t go into this relationship knowing that there were many things in your past that you aren’t proud of, you’re wrong. I know the man you are and I love that man, no matter what it is he used to do.”

Killian sighed, leaning into her touch as his strength. “Jafar had a very powerful scepter. It hypnotizes people and I wanted to use it on the Crocodile. But before I could use it, I met Cora and eventually forgot about it. And then I met you. . .” He gives her a melancholy smile. “He begged me not to take it, said his true love was stuck inside the scepter. All I cared about was my revenge, I had already lost Milah, so if I couldn’t have love then no one could. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

His skin is rough beneath her fingers as she caresses his face, gently outlining his silhouette. He looks so crushed, broken from the weight of sins he now regrets (she knows the feeling), and she wants to wash it all away. Erase the pain and heartbreak. “I know you are. Let’s go meet Jafar, see if we can give him his true love back. Do you still have the scepter?”

“It’s hidden in the Jolly Rodger.”

Emma shoots him a small smile, tugging at his arm. “Get dressed and we’ll go get it.”

-/-/-

Emma stares at the hand lettering on Granny’s guestbook, thumb tracing the curves and indentations of names she’s grown up hearing, seeing, without truly knowing they were real. But they’re all here, sleeping on the same crappy mattresses she once had, all with a variation of a familiarity in their stories. Their life had paused, stuck in a land where their narratives would no longer play out, but now it was time for the clock to start ticking again.

She stops when she sees his name, Jafar, room 221. There’s a hesitance as she grips his scepter, Killian’s hand at her back urging her forward. “Thank you, Granny!” Emma offers.

“You’re welcome, honey. Go do what you need and get some rest. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Emma nods in the widow’s direction and continues on her way. She can feel Killian’s nervous energy from behind her. He’s staring a little too intensely at the door, clenching and unclenching his fist. As Emma raises her own fist to knock, they’re enveloped in thick red smoke, transported next to the pond.

“What the hell?” Emma mutters, more to herself than anyone. As many times as she’s used her own magic to teleport herself from one place to another, it’s always disorienting when you're not expecting it. She's grateful for the familiarity of where they are, though she hasn't ventured back to this particular location since going to the Underworld. At the edge of the water, she sees Jafar smirking in their direction, his new scepter glowing bright.

“I heard you were looking for me. You’re looking awfully tired, Savior, Hook.”

“We broke your curse!” Emma shouts, but it’s too weak, too tired to be anything close to intimidating.

“Ah, so it would seem.”

“We’ve got it, your scepter. Isn’t that what this whole thing was about?”

“Oh Emma, I truly thought you were smarter than that. It must be the lack of sleep getting to you. Let me lay it out in black and white. This was about revenge. Hook took my love, so I vowed to take his.”

“What if we can give her back to you?” Killian interjects. “What if Emma can free her from the scepter?” Looking to the ground and back up with a dramatic roll of his head, Killian lets out a sigh of frustration. He pauses, then collects himself, his anger, and softens his voice. “I’m sorry, mate. I’m sorry I took her. Let me, let us do this for you.”

“You can’t give me back the years I lost with her.”

“No, and I’m sorry for that.” This time it’s Emma that answers. She’s proud, so proud of Killian for facing this, for the man he’s become since she found him under a pile of dead bodies in the Enchanted Forest. And now, he doesn’t have to face these mistakes alone. “But I can give you a future. Let me fix it. I’m the savior, my magic, it can free her.”

“Do you think me an imbecile? Do you not think I would have tried that?”

“You haven’t tried it with my magic.” she reaffirms him, voice firmer despite her current state.

“You don’t look very powerful to me.”

“Let her try.” Killian growls. “Let her try and if it works, just let us be. What do you have to lose?”

Hook sets the original scepter on the ground, stepping back. Emma waits for Jafar’s nod of approval before conjuring up the little strength she has toward the golden staff. Her limbs feel weak, and for the first time, she thinks the magic hurts, unnatural to her frail hands and restless body. So she falls down with it, knees hitting the wet grass with a thud.

And then she sees a tall, brunette haired woman appear in front of them. Emma’s chest feels full as she watches the couple reunite. She thinks she sees Jafar cry as he holds her and she thinks she knows the feeling. (It wasn’t long ago that her and Killian had a similar reunion, though it was death and not enchantment that separated them.) The memory has her rising to her feet, hand settling over Killian’s heart, head resting on his shoulder.

It’s beautiful, the happiness she sees on Jafar and the unknown woman’s faces. Emma wonders who she is - what fairy tale, folklore, or book, bares her name and her story. But she doesn’t dare interrupt.

After the elation and shock has worn down slightly, the woman turns her attention to Emma, taking Jafar’s hand to walk towards them.

“Thank you, Emma. Hook. I apologize for what I’ve put you through.” Jafar says.

“Join the list,” Emma smiles, extending her hand to Storybrooke’s newest resident. “Welcome to Storybrooke. . .”

“Amara.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amara. I hate to cut this short, but I really, really need to get some sleep. We’ll see you around though.”

“Of course! Thank you again.”

They’re already walking away from each other, Emma leaning her weight almost entirely against her lover, when Jafar calls for them.

“Captain?” he pauses, turning around to take a step in Killian and Emma’s direction. “You really have changed. I didn’t know such change was possible for hearts so cruel.”

Killian looks to Emma with a small smile and love gleaming in his eyes. “This town will do that for you. These people will change you for the better.”

-/-/-

She falls asleep with Killian pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, and groggy reassurances of I love you, I’ve got you and There will be no nightmares tonight, It’s over, love, mumbled against her skin every so often. His arms are home, holding her together. His voice is safety. His kiss is love. She means to tell him, show him, all these things and more, but there will be time for that tomorrow. There’s other battles to conquer still - Mr. Hyde, a celebration dinner at Granny’s, and copious amounts of new residents to be getting into mischief soon if not already - but it’s about living in between the chaos. Right now, that means sleep. Tomorrow, it means making sure Killian is taken care of, that he feels as loved and cherished as she does in this moment. After that, who knows what life will bring. Whatever it is, she knows for sure, they’ll win.

A/N: It’s about to get sappy. I started writing this as a one-shot in July of 2016. If you’re finding this in the archives, it is now June of 2017. There are so many people who have helped and encouraged me throughout this process, @starg8rocks @foundmyhome, @thesassywitchofthenortheast, @acrobat-elle, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, my Seafret Pandora Station, @space-whales, @lovebecomeshim, @bromfieldhall, @thepowerofmyfridge@potentialheartofdarkness @phiralovesloki, @the-reason-to-sail-home, @poetic-justice-96, @snowbellewells, just to name a few. This fic would be nowhere without you all. On Ao3, I said this would probably be the last fic I wrote - my Swan Song. That may or may not remain true. A 3 part fic should not take a year to write, especially when you have a very detailed outline. I love you all so much, I love this fandom and the people in it. It’s changed me. So thank you. I hope you all like this fic!

Also, if you got this far, you probably realized it ignores the OUAT in Wonderland canon, as I have not seen it. And I came up with the idea for Jafar before it was ever announced he would be in Once, so I’m pretty proud of that one. ;)

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #my writing #on sleepless roads #cs #captain swan #once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #killian jones

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darkshimmeringworld-blog · 6 years

Text

Wapping (Bollocks)

Pretty poppet, meet me by the chicken cottage. I wants the red head. I wants the red head. Pipe down. Consecrated night of illusions, secret chicken cottage mason lodges. Coven cottage dreams. Breadcrumbs. I had an arguement with my friends. They dish it out but cannot take it. I retreat to an imaginary world. I have pretentious thoughts. I have the Yves Klein Blues. Curling my lips at the moon. Soliciting false hope in the light of long dead stars. I sow language demonically. Reverse word breadcrumbs that lead into a forest. A yard with lunatics. St. George-in-the-East and McDonalds to the south. Gatekeepers of the Highway, Gog and McGog. Old King Ludd. Gunge. A deep fat fryer pariah. Roadkill in chip shops. Battered pigeons, battered hedgehogs, half a battered squirrel, the homeless Heston Blooming-fool, bargin in to boil rats in vats of searing fat. Uncharter’d meats. Pipe down. When was the last time I climbed a wall? I change the tense I write in. I changed the tense I wrote in. I change the tense I write in. I walked along the Highway. Rented out by the French Government. Fleur-de-Leases. Ghost houses. Ancient brasses. The French Disease. Surplus foreground, surplus background, surplus horizon, surplus everything. The entire fucking universe is frivolous. The River Lea is bloody marvellous. Opening ceremony. Bucks fizz, whizz kid, alco-popstar-prick. Staple diet of pork scratchings dipped in Manuka honey. Weaponised almonds. Parrot. You are my foil. My tin man. Parrot. Fake imaginary parrot. Imaginary animatronic parrot. Whatever. We need each other. You need my insane thoughts to exist. And you exist to keep my insane thoughts in check. Come in parrot. Shunned by my pretend talking parrot. Aerosol can man. Smashing a bottle of Captain Morgan over Piers Morgan’s fucking face. Polish man in pub garden telling me about munchkins mix-up. Job interview at the Leftorium. It all went horribly right. Pic-n-mix-up. Pipe down. Sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, sky vaulting, firmament. Pipe down. Breadcrumbs.

One caveat with that cravat, it used to be the Captain’s cat. Token Somalian. Robert Mappelthorpe. Bogmanagers. immobile archaic juts. we call them things headstones. I am universal flotsam. Floating up the River Lea. Kraken! The aberration in the light was not in fact a sea monster. It was Tatlin’s titfuck revenge. An Anish Kapoor play thing. A double clef with a disability. A gigantic demented saxophone fighting itself. A roller coaster delineated by spirograph enthusiast at ayahuasca ceremony. It looked like an ampersand & ampersand one man band & ampersand one man band vomiting steel across what once was hinterland in a jaunty rude solo interlude & I ask the ampersand: Doest thou stand here to fuck time? I wandered the windswept plains. I took refuge in Zaha Hadid’s vagina stadium. I wrote: I am here in the Olympic Park. It looks like a vajazzled Chernobyl. My mind is fertile atomic logic. Objections are simple. Redundant description redundant. Redundant description redundant. Pipe down.

(Gunge decanting weirdness in the countryside line here)

Advert for the countryside: Get closer to nature (Get closure on nature). Jerusalem is mine. Holy fucking hell. The Pope spits out his tea. The celebrated celibate. Is an ornate monkey. Order of the Capuchin Capuchins. Cappuccino please. Alpha coffee male. Parrot: “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen” Epic Eccie Epping Forest. Hangman’s Pill. This has been communicated to you in a blindfolded waltz. I am not in control of what I say. It unspools, from my mouth, like a yarn, which is why, we call it, a yarn. Yawn, pipe down. Lawns. Castigated dogs on the horizon of washing lines welping in ylang ylang scented beatings. Over the hills, an Auld Pub. Inside. Old man. He had a whole disorderly repertoire of falling over. Backwash of whiskey spit had cauled over his face. Grave-flirting cunt. Sir Osis of the Gelwaz. A bar-stooling throne. A crackling crown of bloody skull fragments. His Kingdom all crashing down. He dusted off his woes. He warned me of the urinals. Do not go in there. Weird piss cult. The constipated conspiracy theorist: It was an inside job! My dream shop, a list of things it sells: A conspiracy running the entire length of the Greenwich Meridian Line, the Holy Grail made out of a Christian's skin, infinite iconoclasm, magnifying glasses for midgets with ivory handles crafted from pygmy elephant tusks, new imagined noses, transformation parables sewn onto a human heart, rare cough syrup, antique ashtray from Nazi Germany, a Unabomber Schott jacket, rare CD of Jim Jones singing the greatest hits of Tom Jones, a limited edition John Wayne Gacy Island, Thunderbirds toy set, the smell of petrichor and tobacco, a cup that overfloweth with witty barm, balloon canisters sold with park bench (this included free of charge) and nineteen frosted bones. It’s very contrived. It is all set up. There was no let up, to unperceivable things. A man looking like Robert Mappelthorpe, drifted into things. From where I do not recall. He told us of the snapping turtles, and catfish of the Lea. Of dreams of being an artist, and his creosote modernist sculptures that littered the flooded gravel pits of Essex. Of his troubled youth and blazing memories of family feuds. Of running away from it all. Time wasted navel gazing in Lower Nazeing, alone but for the ghosts of Odo from Ranulf, brother of Ilger, two free men and half a fishery. The puissant king of Nazeing. Tethered to a tree. Rooted to a dying tree. He thought he broke free. He had it all once but now he is dead. Pissant. Did you see the frog?Missing posters of Gunge: Last seen kicking a Hari Krishna to death in the head shouting Shanti Shanti Shanti Shanti Shanti Shanti. He fled the scene. He lined his pockets with as many jam doughnuts that would fit and waded onto the railway tracks. He was never seen again. There was no body. Could be jam, could be blood. We will never know. On the scene: A wasp, dead, burrowed into a sausage roll sarcophagus. A mystery. What did the Ninth Legion have for dinner? Mange tout, Brute?

The Cereal Vapist. Leaves a bad taste in Shoreditch.

the paranoid weird dreams i used to have of my friends flat in maryland. why is he called gunge? fatbergs. tube of genius cream cream. apply in topical area. if irritation or burning sensation shout at it tell it to pipe down! Chewing on some mugwort that grows by the velodrome. that there thing that came out of that there bigger thing kill it and that thing that came out of the thing of the bigger thing kill it too

a group of women piercing their hearts with daggers

Parrot: “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen”

Memory palace Weatherspoons. So many doors.

If a prism, if a forest, do occur, in an image, in your mind, with trees, black and without leaves, it is winter. How do you feel? Stalactites, stalagmites, Ludd-ites. Spiralized styrofoam monsters stylised as tentacled octopi. Redundant description abundant. Synonyms and antonyms mingling in the garbage bins. I have thoughts but no words. I have words but no thoughts. I have vacant images. An industrial swearer. A Henry Ford Production Line of Fuck Lines. An absolute bell-end. Carefully reverse your vehicles over the heads of small minded men. I’m a bum note mate. I’m a dicky heart. I’m an insatiable loss. I’m a fortified wanker. Breadcrumbs. Pipe down. I am Onan the Barbarian. I am the Olympic tosser. Weaponised fucking almonds. Nuts. An EDL man. Dressed as St. George. He says it is all King Vortigern’s fault. He laments Broken Britain. Says imperialism is in, he saw it on his porcelain. I tell him: There are two dragons underground. One is red. One is white. They are fighting each other. This, is why your house is falling down. He tells me to pipe down. Crusade Crusoe! The Man Who Was an Island Mentality Nationalist. The Man Who Was a Complicated Pacifist. Says he likes shitting on Persian rugs. That’s all. I decide to leave. Up chalk streams to the Olympian Palaces of Excess. King Vortigern, leftovers, Brexit mercenaries, athlete villages. The unbecoming of a potentially good thing, now passed, the faint departing music of opportunity denied. A marching band of ideas disappearing forever into an invisible tunnel. The doldrum winds of inertia winding down. Silence, deafening silence, silence, deadening silence. The erection of the pleasure dome, damnation to the libraries, elation at the pleasure dome, death at the grass roots, cessation of the spaceship games and then stagnation of the pleasure dome, a nation full of funeral homes and a country in a come down. The Olympic mirage villages, all lullabies and alibis. Its not a pyramid scheme, its a ziggurat enterprise. My brain is sludgy. Your grotty hands are on the shiny things. Pipe down. Macaroon breadcrumbs. Fennel scented cologne from Damascus. Damaris Page wearing Damask Rose. A glaucous macaw. Chewing on Cicely with whores from Macau. Fighting for gold with gymnasts from Beijing. Born in the trench of fools. Wench for sale, wench for sale! Pieces of silver. Podiums. Ahh, many times laddy, have I sat in the afterglow of a witty remark. Filigree words sopping and charming, unspooling from the mouth in effortlessness. Never diminishing after being spoken, but saturating the past in a gilded ambience that when looked back on radiates like the long dead stars that still twinkle at night in far gone space. A crop of bubbling daisies or whatever those flowers are that pavement sprout. Cockney pagans, kicked out by new religion, that built pristine puritanical palaces atop their old school foundations. For whom the bells toll. Are thoughts real? Waiting for the gold. Waiting for the gold. This reverse solipsism hurts my brain. Phlegmatic Father Thames, spittle banks and morsels of clay. Fuelling mad thoughts, another, again, more, or less, lucid, or unreal, than that hill, that I sit on, than that gold I think up, or the gold, that wanes. Vanishes. Evaporates. That was spunked away. The Road of Excess. A sketch for tomorrow. Drawn yesterday. I was dreaming as a voice, refracted in my pint. It said: Whatever I do, I do not repent, I keep pissing against the moon. Signed, Flea. Niches for imbeciles and alcoves to waste gold. Amusements for Affluenza victims of the 21st century, a quarantine zone, a regeneration scheme, reclaimed land, Chelsea Flower Show doped up like a Russian Olympiad, an East End Genocide, Cockneys blowing bubbles, in the marshy reeds, moved out, moved back in again, a hokey cokey organised by porn barons, the erotomania of starchitect visions, the spaceship landing, soldiers on rooftops, Wind in the Willows, Bobby Moore, a Piper From the Gates of Porn, he is pissed off, Hung Up on a Team. Nine days upside down, from that tree. The cockney dildo draft. In, out, in, out, shake it all about. The Pornographers Phallacy: Iconoclasm in the club shop. Effigies of dry rot. In the board room, they rip flesh off each other, madly. And rip off Dr. Faustus, badly. The shadow of glory. Shadows and floodlit glories. The spectre of Super Sunday. Escape to China with Felix Magath, do not say his name in a stadium, it is considered bad luck, you will get fired. Allusion illusion. Allusion to illusions. Layers upon layers upon layers upon layers up layer upon . . . kaleidoscopic derision. Pipe down. Emulsified shirts, and calcified dirt, and a crucified cat and sewer rats, in a plastic six-pack beer packaging, artificial, multi-straight-jacketed rat king demise, all drowned together, floating amongst the coat hangers, a bicycle, and a myriad of used condoms. God’s bawdy house. Up in the sky, the cloud was full of nihilism. The sun, full of itself. His bad first impression, was his bad last impression. Art is new age alchemy. Transmutation, transmutation. Arthur write this: Handle conspiracy with care. Rheumatoid hands and lizard people. David Icke. Up on the vivisection fable. The garbage vans were hijacked, the LED screen were loaded up with obscene images. Information Jihad in this green and pleasant land of grey.

It looked like a vajazzled Chernobyl.

What a load of pretentious rubbish.

Pipe down.

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